xix: the sun

˖.𖤓 ݁٠࣪˖˚⋆

[zorasrealm]

domain expansion: lotus flower .𖥔 ݁ ˖

zora - 20 - she/her - writing blog

18+ sfw/nsfw (tagged accordingly)

jjk centered - but not limited, so stay tuned !!

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[revolvingsaturn]

𝜗𝜚 wine and naked confessions with Shoko

a/n: happy pride to all my fellow sapphics (and everybody in-between <33)

more like this

Glass clinks against your nails as you absentmindedly wrap your hand around the stem of the bottle. Your apartment feels cosier like this, the world outside blocked out by your wine haze and the gauzy curtains, Shoko’s voice murmuring across to you as she happily sips her drink.

You sigh dreamily as the wine slips down your throat smoothly. “God, I’ve missed you, Sho.”

She laughs in response. “I missed you too, pretty. Blame Gojo for getting injured and making me stay late.” You roll your eyes theatrically, setting your glass down to softly trace the soft skin of her palm. “I still can’t believe you can just… do that with your hands. It’s amazing, Sho.”

She raises an eyebrow as her head tilts, shiny brown hair waterfalling over her shoulder, the skin exposed beyond her tank top. Her work clothes have long since been discarded into the wash, lab coat hung up inside the cupboard. “Oh? Tell me more.”

You know she’s only half serious, but the infliction in her tone makes you shiver. “Mmm…” your fingers keep tracing the lines on her hand. “And I love the way you don’t brag about it too much, either, you just do it. You’re so dedicated. And…”

Your reverence continues as your hands trail from her hands to her waist, Shoko’s glass of wine long forgotten beside yours as she lets the world go a little fuzzy around the edges. But not you, not as you crawl up on top of her and press your mouth to hers.

You’re loosely straddling her, thighs parted around her lap as gravity takes it’s course to allow you to slip your tongue into her mouth. She’s pleasantly surprised, and the moan she lets out is enough to tell you; soft puffs of breath get caught between thirsty nips of your teeth.

Shoko kisses back, lips plump and a little stained from the wine as she sits up and looks at you expectantly. You lie one last kiss to her beauty mark then adjust yourself how she wants- how you know she wants, after so many reruns of this same routine. And yet, you never get bored.

You couldn’t get bored- it’d be impossible, when she lifts up her thigh between your spreads legs and grabs your hips to drag you forwards. A gasp slips out instantly as your clit presses to her smooth skin beneath the loungewear she’s sporting, floaty shorts that are probably yours anyway.

“You can do it.” She murmurs against your earlobe, trailing her hand from your hip to pull your bottom lip down. You’re already dazed as she touches you, messily rocking your cunt back and forth.

“That’s…” you breathe, head tipping forwards into her neck, “that feels nice.”

She laughs and the breath ruffles your skin, goosebumps springing up. “Mmm, I can tell.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s referring to the damp spot on your panties, slick pooling frustratedly in the gusset as you fight for friction on her leg. It’s a good thing too, because you’re already dizzy from the wine and her touch isn’t helping.

Your girlfriend’s hands slide from your hips- they’re moving on their own now, bucking desperately- to pull your shirt away and toss it to the side. She grins, eyes heavy but no less reverent, as she lowers her mouth to kiss across the newly exposed flesh.

Your tits are spilling prettily from the bra cupping them, chest heaving as your hips stutter along her thigh. “Oh, fuck, Sho-“ you mewl, gripping her scalp when she wraps her lips around your nipple and tugs down the undergarment.

Maybe it’s her teeth on your skin or the way she lifts her thigh up to rub against your soaked skin. Maybe it’s the wine simmering in your bloodstream and the fuzziness of your eyesight. Maybe it’s the fact you’ve been worked up since she uncorked the bottle with dexterous fingers and your mind drifted to them inside you.

“Ohmygod-“

Whatever it is, it makes your back curl outwards and shove your tits closer into her chest as the seam of your underwear catches justttt right and you cum on her thigh, legs shaking and your cheeks brightened.

“There you go.” She says lowly, proudly, pressing a final kiss to your marked-up tits and collarbone before drawing back to gently thumb your face; the action draws you back into consciousness, control of your own body, and you lean forwards to connect your tongue with hers.

It’s messy, to say the least. You’re still shaky and uncoordinated from your orgasm, aftershocks buzzing through you when she pinches at your nipple briefly; your whole body shudders, but her mouth coaxes you back to reality as you pull apart for air and gaze at her.

She’s so pretty. Her lashes are dark around her honeyed eyes, dusted with desire and adoration as her hands hold you. Shoko’s hair is mussed from your fingers, soft brown tangling around your palms as you gently lift her shirt away, too.

You giggle against her mouth. “Lie back.”

Her lips curl against yours. “Why should I?” She’s joking- her elbows are already turning, lowering her back against the comfy couch cushions as your fingers twist into the waistband of her shorts and gently shimmy them down her slender legs.

A trail of kisses is planted along her skin first, adoration bottled up in every slide of your mouth against her; her calves, thighs, hips- nowhere is exempt, and you can tell it’s working her up by the way she sighs and tangles her fingers in your hair.

“Don’t tease.” She mutters, although her voice is already strained. You smile, press one final kiss to her inner thigh, and clamp your mouth between her thighs. She moans breathily, and the sound makes you gasp into her in a cycle that only serves to make Shoko tremble above you.

Usually, she’s quiet anyway. But then it’s calculated silence, more like she’s deciding if the speech is worth her time or not- however, what you do to her is beyond the words she wouldn’t be able to choke out if she tried.

“Shit.” She breathes, rubbing soothing little circles on your scalp with her nails as you lick through the dampness flooding her skin. You’re enjoying this, having her collapse above you when your lips enclose around her clit and suck just a little on the right side of harsh.

“Sho…” you moan, pulling back enough to slide in two of your fingers, “you’re so pretty right now.”

Her hips buck upwards involuntarily, searching for the beautiful friction of your fingerpads against her insides; you twist and crook them in the way you know she likes, tongue carding across her clit, and the noise she makes is rewarding- to say the least.

It’s high and shattered, choked out between moans breathier than any others you’ve heard so far, mixed somehow with a little whisper of your name as you gaze up into her eyes.

You pull back, lips glossy with her until you swipe it away with your tongue. You’re as dazed as she is, body soft and naked above her as Shoko grips you up to rest on her skin. “Love you.” She murmurs quietly, legs tangling with yours on the couch as cushions fall ignored to the floor.

“Mm.” You agree lazily, kissing absentmindedly across her face. “Love you too, Sho. Have for a while.”

She laughs, tracing the curve of your back. “You didn’t finish your wine.”

You’re sitting back on your haunches to grab the bottle and refill your glass when you realise Shoko’s still staring at you. Her eyes are tracing the nakedness of your body, over the way your tits are marked up and your panties are nowhere to be seen- but she isn’t exactly doing it lustfully.

Of course, that makes up a little part of her obvious reverence- but it’s more the fact it’s you. That you’re both here like this, comfortable enough to fuck each other to orgasm and then go back to drinking wine, naked- like nothing happened.

She reaches for her glass and smiles around the rim.

ೃ࿔*:･

masterlist

tags (open):

@yvannaille @f33bs @loverofladybugs @p3stop3sta @arabellasolstice @dreamcastgirl99 @what-the-jams @likstars @elenathriel @gyusheadphones @savagecatsuga @wqsrs @kakuthefish @megssleepygirl @olegirldowntheblock @sugerfilled @mershyjershy @1cckedheart @mimicosmos8 @destenyyyyy @icebearcucumber @satoru2716 @mebodys @megumisrighttoe @toesy3 @ivankinnieclatter @v4mp1r3b4tzz @a-court-of-smut-and-sluts @stqrgumi @skylaryippee @iridescentshine @hanges-wife @rengoatku @lilyalone @cherryfawnie @toro-inouelover @bowiesprettieststar2 @mischivana

[sukunahs]

sweet tooth masterlist | ryomen sukuna

wish I could see that it feels much better when I'm with you

pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader (university au)

summary: sukuna has a notorious reputation on campus of being terrifying, but it's hard to be too scared of the guy when he shows up to your family’s failing bakery every day to buy strawberry shortbread.

when your life feels like its falling apart you discover just how sweet he can be.

content: 18+ mdni, eventual smut, university au, FLUFF, angst, humor, slow burn, idiots in love, miscommunication, parental illness/death, grief, money issues, stress and overwork, harassment, introverted reader, both reader and sukuna are kinda insecure in their own way, reader's life is falling apart but sukuna is there to make things better

episode 1: going through it

episode 2: under your spell

episode 3: anyone out there?

episode 4: expectations are too high

episode 5: crush

episode 6: I just don't know right now

episode 7: late nights

episode 8: so come a little closer

episode 9: beating like a hammer

episode 10: stop the world I wanna get off (with you)

episode 11: I'll stand here all night long

episode 12: sugar mice

episode 13: wonderful life

episode 14: how I’ve longed for you

episode 15: tell me that you love me

episode 16: let me always be with you

episode 17: wound up with a purpose

[jaegersmist]

ㅤㅤㅤmutualism ‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

You're a second-year marine biology student who only wanted to pass her upcoming ecology midterm. Asking Armin Arlert, the famously brilliant and infamously soft-spoken TA, for help seemed like a purely academic decision. But what begins as a quiet study session beneath the hum of library lights quickly drifts into deeper, uncharted waters. There's more to learn than just predator-prey dynamics, and some forms of symbiosis go far beyond the textbook.

pairing. nerd!armin + student!reader.

genre. college au, oneshot.

cw. strong language, sexual content.

wc. 8,710.

fanart. novalise1 on twitter.

The Sina University campus in autumn had something melancholic and perfect about it. Leaves still clung stubbornly to some trees, painted in shades of orange, ochre, and gold. The air was crisp, with that constant breeze carrying the scent of damp earth and old books. The sidewalks were covered in crunchy leaves, and the bicycles parked outside the Marine Sciences Building swayed gently in the wind. There was a calmness to the season, as if time moved slower between classes, as if thoughts could linger in the air a few seconds longer.

Studying Marine Biology had been a decision more visceral than rational. It wasn't the easiest or most comfortable path, but it was what made you feel something close to fascination. The marine world was as vast as it was unknown, and maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the pages of the textbooks, even though right now it felt more like drowning than being guided.

Marine Ecology, in particular, had become dense. Between trophic webs, interspecific competition, symbiosis, and energy flows, your notes looked more like hieroglyphs than concepts. The first exam was approaching, and anxiety grew silently. That was why, when you found out you could schedule a time with the teaching assistant, you decided to write to him.

Armin Arlert, fourth-year Teaching Assistant.

You had seen him in class since the beginning of the semester. Always sitting to the side of the classroom, near the professor's desk, with a notebook and an open laptop. His presence was calm, almost imperceptible, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made everyone notice him anyway. His voice, when he spoke, was measured, firm without being authoritarian. There was something about him that was hard to explain: a mix of serenity and depth.

Physically, he stood out without even trying. He had blond hair, with some strands falling near his eyes. His expression was soft, almost kindly by default, and his posture reflected focus rather than stiffness. He had matured compared to the earlier lab photos circulating among previous cohorts; now his face had sharper angles, a more defined jawline, but his blue eyes still held that thoughtful, almost melancholic gaze. He wore neutral sweaters and dark pants, with that air of someone who didn't seek attention but ended up attracting it anyway.

Armin had already noticed you in class,

attentive, curious, different.

He had cast subtle glances your way from his seat at the side of the room during lectures. When you answered something, when you furrowed your brow reading a slide, or when you bit your pencil without realizing it. He never did it obviously. He just observed, carefully, as if making a mental note about you.

Every time you participated, he stayed listening with a slight smile or silently nodded, never interrupting.

Despite feeling drawn to your way of thinking, a blend of insecurity and genuine interest, he kept within the limits his role imposed. He knew exactly where his place was.

You didn't know exactly when you started noticing him beyond academics. Maybe it was the first time he explained something to you in the study room after class, when he bent down to look at your notes and his voice sounded closer than usual. Or when you saw him smile shyly at a senior student who greeted him in the hallway, and you felt an absurd pang in your chest.

There was something about him that unsettled you. It wasn't just his intelligence, though that certainly made him even more attractive. It was the way he spoke to you, as if listening was his most natural way of being in the world. As if he was never in a hurry, as if everything you said had real value.

You wondered if he had noticed you. Not in the superficial way others did, but truly. If he had ever caught how you watched him when he explained at the board or how your breathing got a little uneven when he passed nearby.

Sometimes you thought not. That it was all in your head. That he was simply attentive, kind, professional.

But other times you weren't so sure.

There were moments when his eyes lingered on yours a second longer than necessary. When he lowered his tone slightly answering you, as if you were alone in a room of a hundred people. As if you also distracted him a little.

And that possibility, even if you didn't admit it aloud, churned something in your stomach. Something that had nothing to do with the marine ecology exam.

You checked your phone for the third time in less than ten minutes, as if the email could have changed since the last time. But no. There it was, the same as before. Armin Arlert's reply, read and reread, with that polite and considerate tone that characterized him.

From: Armin Arlert Subject: Re: Marine Ecology Question

Hello, Of course, no problem. We can review the material together before the exam. I've reserved a private room in the library; it's quieter than the common areas and has a whiteboard we can use. I'll be waiting for you today at 5:30 pm in Study Room 3B, Central Library. Best regards, Armin.

You were more surprised than you wanted to admit. Not because he accepted, he had always been willing to help students, but because of the detail that he himself had reserved a private room, and so well in advance. The gesture was meticulous, considerate. Typical of someone who didn't take things lightly.

You slid your finger back over your own message, your hurried reply sent fifteen minutes later, after you had read his email three times and were still unsure whether to send something informal or keep it completely academic. Your eyes nervously scanned the text, making sure for the umpteenth time that there were no mistakes, no writing errors, no misplaced "thank you" that might make him think you were less than you hoped to appear.

"Hi Armin, Thank you very much for your willingness. I really appreciate you taking the time. I'll see you then today at 5:30pm in room 3B. I'll bring my notes and the module guide, just in case. Best regards."

It wasn't bad.

Clear, cordial, without errors.

But you still debated whether that "thank you very much for your willingness" sounded too formal, or if the "just in case" sounded too insecure. You had taken almost twenty minutes to send that email. And now you were reading both responses as if they were pieces of a hidden puzzle. As if you could deduce something more than just the academic exchange.

You put your phone in your jacket pocket with a silent exhale. Ten minutes remained until the agreed time. And for some reason, although you knew you were going to talk about trophic webs, you felt as if you were about to enter a much more complex conversation.

You walked silently along the stone path that led to the Central Library. The breeze gently moved your jacket as you approached the building, one that always commanded respect for its size and its almost modern design, white concrete and large windows.

The Central Library had three floors, and at the main entrance stood straight columns supporting a portico open to the sky. Inside, everything was bright: high ceilings, light wood floors, and bookshelves extending like silent labyrinths. To the left was the general reading area, with individual tables and natural light. At the back, a glass corridor connected to the private study rooms, exactly where you were headed.

You stopped in front of the door of Study Room 3B. The number was engraved on a small metal plate next to the handle. It wasn't exactly 5:30 yet. You took out your phone, more to keep your hands busy than out of need, and pretended to check something while taking a deep breath.

There was something about Armin that unsettled you. He had a serene beauty that you didn't know how to handle and made you more nervous than you wanted to admit. His blue eyes, his low voice, the way he seemed present at all times. There was a silent intensity in him that attracted you unintentionally. And today you were going to be alone with him.

You put away your phone. Your hand hesitated for a second, but finally you knocked twice on the door.

"Come in," you heard from inside.

That voice. You recognized it instantly: calm, precise, with that natural warmth he had even when explaining things as technical as the energy flow between species.

You turned the handle and entered.

Room 3B was brighter than you expected. White from wall to wall, with a rectangular table in the center surrounded by four black chairs. In one corner, a desktop projector and a whiteboard occupied the space next to a shelf with markers and erasers. The side windows looked out onto the main campus courtyard, where students could be seen walking along paths or sitting on benches, unaware of everything else.

Everything was silent. Everything but his voice.

Armin was standing next to the projector, connecting his laptop to the HDMI cable. He wore a white shirt rolled up to the elbows and dark jeans. His blond hair fell slightly to one side, naturally messy. He didn't look at you immediately, focused on checking that the screen responded. But when he did, his expression changed.

"Hi," he said with a slight smile. "Did you get here okay?"

"Yes..." you answered, returning the smile awkwardly. "Thanks for making time for this."

"Of course. I'm glad to help." He put away the excess cable and approached the table. "How have you been?"

He didn't start immediately with the concepts. That surprised you a little. He seemed genuinely interested in knowing how you were doing, not just academically. He sat across from you, leaving the projector on, projecting a blue background on the whiteboard.

"I've been okay... a little lost with the material, if I'm honest," you confessed with a small nervous laugh.

"That's normal," he said, resting his elbows on the table. "Most people struggle at first".

His tone remained the same as always: patient, calm, but with something different today. Something closer. As if you weren't just any student sitting in front of him. As if he too was waiting for this moment.

With a soft sigh, you took a seat at the rectangular table, leaving your backpack to one side. You felt the cold surface beneath your forearms as you leaned forward to open your notebook. The paper was full of hurried notes, messy underlines, and little doodles in the margins. You searched for the ecology section and smoothed the page with your hand, as if doing so might also help you organize your thoughts.

Armin moved to the nearest window to partially close the blind, dimming the natural light a bit. He went over to his computer, opened the course presentation, and projected it onto the whiteboard. The title read "Community Ecology: Biological Interactions," in the same somewhat old-fashioned format the lead professor used.

There was something reassuring about his posture: straight back, hands in his pants pockets when not gesturing, and that attentive look he frequently turned toward you to make sure you were following along.

"Let's start with the most general," he said, moving to the next slide. "We saw this in the last class, but it serves as the foundation for what's coming."

The way he spoke was slow, clear. He explained confidently but without arrogance. Occasionally, he walked to one side of the room, gesturing with an open hand to highlight a concept, then returned to the center. You could tell he enjoyed what he did, and that made him oddly attractive.

Seeing him like this, in his element, made him look even more handsome. That calmness in his speech, the way he slightly furrowed his brow when searching for a more precise word, the restrained movement of his hands... If he were the main professor, you'd probably not only understand better but also attend class more eagerly.

"So, within symbiotic interactions," he said, turning briefly toward you, "one of the best-known is mutualism. Both species benefit. Like the clownfish and anemones, or lichens."

"And would that also apply to mycorrhizae?" you asked, recalling an image from your notes.

He paused. The expression on his face brightened a little and he nodded.

"Yes, exactly that. Very good observation. Not everyone makes that connection so quickly."

The praise was soft, almost casual, but you couldn't help noticing that little sparkle in his eyes. As if, for a moment, he wasn't just speaking to another student, but to someone who genuinely surprised him.

"Thanks," you whispered, pretending to review your notes so he wouldn't see how you'd blushed.

Armin resumed his pace. He changed the slide to a more colorful diagram about ecological niches.

"This tends to get a bit confusing. The niche isn't just the physical place a species occupies, but everything it does: its behavior, what it consumes, who it interacts with, how it adapts..."

He walked slowly to the right side of the whiteboard, where he'd projected a comparison table. He stopped in front of it, crossing his arms as he spoke.

"Here you can see the difference between the fundamental niche and the realized niche. The first is like the 'ideal' for a species, without competition or external pressure. The second," he took a pause "is what's left, what it can really occupy."

You nodded, though focusing only on the content was difficult. His voice, the rhythm he used to explain, the way he paused to make sure you understood. Everything had a warmth you didn't usually find in teaching assistants or professors.

And even though you tried to stay focused, the truth was that Armin looked good like this: standing, explaining confidently, speaking directly to you in a silent room where only his words and your responses were heard.

He continued reviewing fundamental topics clearly: mutualism, parasitism, interspecific competition. He marked key points on each slide, using examples from the marine ecosystem like coral reefs, intertidal zones, and plankton communities. He mentioned data, asked gentle questions to confirm your understanding, and nodded each time you found a correct answer or made an interesting observation.

When he reached the last slide, he paused for a few seconds and then commented:

"I took the chance to borrow a book from the library. There are some examples the professor doesn't cover, but that could really help you for the test."

He closed his laptop with a soft click and turned off the projector. The room grew dimmer without the screen's light, and for a second, you felt the shift in the atmosphere: more intimate, quieter.

Before you could react, Armin walked to the other side of the table, took one of the empty chairs, and carefully pulled it next to yours. His closeness made you tense slightly, though you tried to hide it by looking at your notes.

He sat beside you, not too close, but close enough that his arms brushed the edge of your personal space. He opened the book with calm movements and flipped through the pages until he stopped at a section marked with a small yellow post-it.

"Here's an example of ecological succession that I always found interesting," he said, barely turning the book so both your gazes met on the same page. "It happens in a coastal area where a sandbank was recolonized by different species after a heavy storm. It's a good model to understand how marine ecosystems recover."

His voice, now lower, almost like he was speaking only to you, filled the room's silence again. And you, with your heart beating a little faster, leaned in to look closely. Or at least you tried. Because the truth was there was something more present than just the book's content: the nearness of his presence, the calm rhythm of his voice, and the way you both finally shared the same space.

Armin leaned down to reach for his notebook that he'd left on the other side of the table. As he did, his arm brushed against yours. It was a light touch, without any apparent intention... but he didn't pull away.

You held your breath instantly, feeling how that minimal proximity had a disproportionate effect on your body. You could have attributed it to the enclosed room, the silence, the concentration... but you knew it wasn't that.

He seemed to notice your reaction. And although he didn't say anything, he lowered his voice slightly, as if suddenly you were both in another conversation, different from the one the books and notes indicated. His tone was calm, didactic, but there was something more in it: a new warmth, a softness that made him even more attractive.

You looked at him more than you should have. You couldn't help it. The way he slightly furrowed his brow when concentrating, how he slid his fingers along the page to follow the text line, the way he barely turned his body toward you every time he explained something. Armin definitely noticed, but said nothing. He kept explaining as if he didn't want to break the balance you'd silently built together.

Your fingers and his met on the paper when you both pointed at the same diagram: a drawing illustrating an ecological process. The contact was as unexpected as inevitable. And though it was brief, it made you both visibly blush.

You quickly pulled away, almost clumsily, and started writing down whatever you could in your notebook, trying to hide how your pulse had quickened.

Armin, however, stayed a few seconds longer than necessary looking at your writing. As if the sound of pencil on paper was hypnotic to him.

"Is what I wrote okay?" you asked without looking up.

"Yes..." he said in a low voice, almost like he'd forgotten to speak. "More than okay."

There was a brief silence, one that wasn't uncomfortable but that seemed to stretch in the stillness of the room. Your eyes met. Not with tension, but with a kind of silent complicity. As if you were both realizing, at the same time, something neither dared to name yet.

Armin looked down first, returning to the notes. The faint blush still remained on his cheeks.

"So... is mutualism always positive for both species?" you asked suddenly, even though you knew perfectly well the answer. You just wanted to hear him talk a little more.

Armin looked at you and smiled, that subtle smile he rarely showed in class. "Yes," he answered, settling into the chair. "Although sometimes the lines between mutualism and other forms of interaction get blurred. Like some things in life."

You both laughed softly, and the atmosphere seemed to relax, opening up to something new. Little by little, the conversation stopped revolving around the subject. You began talking about university life, difficult courses, demanding professors, exam weeks, and the feeling of sometimes getting lost in so much content.

"I admire how you explain things," you said at one point, without thinking too much. "Your voice, it relaxes me. It makes everything easier to understand."

Armin seemed to take a second before answering. He looked down, then back up at you with a different, softer expression. "You also have a way of looking that disarms," he whispered, almost unintentionally.

The silence that followed didn't need to be interrupted immediately. Because, for the first time, there seemed to be no rush.

The conversation took on a more relaxed tone, gradually moving away from the material you had been reviewing. You talked about university life, the weight each of you felt on your shoulders. The age difference was felt in your experiences, but it wasn't a barrier, rather a bridge.

"The second year tends to be a year of many adjustments," Armin said, leaning back slightly in the chair. "The subjects become more theoretical, and sometimes it's hard to find a balance between practicals and studying. How have you been doing so far?"

You took a deep breath, grateful for the chance to vent without fear of being judged. "It's been hard, to be honest. Some subjects overwhelm me, and sometimes I feel like I'm not up to the level. But I like marine biology, and that keeps me motivated."

Armin nodded with understanding. "That's the most important thing. Sometimes it's not just about knowing, but wanting to keep learning. I've also had moments when I thought I wouldn't make it." His smile was gentle, sincere, and invited you to trust him. "If you want, I can be your tutor for the rest of your degree," he offered naturally. "Not just to help with subjects, but for whatever you need guidance, advice, anything."

Your heart skipped a beat. The offer wasn't just academic; it seemed like a way to build a bond beyond classes. "I'd love that," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though the smile slipped out on its own.

For a moment, you simply stared at each other, the silence filling the white study room. The windows showed the campus outside, with students walking distractedly, unaware of the moment happening inside that small room.

Armin, with that almost spontaneous impulse, leaned toward you and brushed a strand of hair that fell over your notebook, gently touching your cheek. The contact was light but charged with electricity. You didn't pull away, and his fingers stayed there a moment longer, as if he wanted to linger.

His eyes met yours, and time seemed to slow down. "I shouldn't cross that line," he whispered, voice low and almost vulnerable. "But I think I already crossed it with my gaze a while ago."

The intensity of his confession took you by surprise, but instead of pulling away, something inside you opened.

Without thinking too much, you leaned toward him, shortening the distance between your bodies. The brush of his lips was timid at first, exploratory, a gentle touch that seemed to ask for permission. But with each second, the kiss gained confidence and warmth, melting the barriers you both had kept.

The room, with its white walls and enveloping silence, became a refuge for just the two of you, where the subject matter, time, and the outside world disappeared.

The moment their lips touched for the first time, everything seemed to stop. It was a soft, almost trembling contact, as if you were both testing the possibility of something new, unknown. The warmth radiating from his mouth contrasted with the fresh air coming in through the window, and the faint scent of his skin and clothes became unbearably close. You also noticed a fresh minty taste in his mouth, as if he had eaten mints just before the meeting, a small but surprisingly sweet detail engraved in your memory.

Your hands, which until that moment had been resting on the notebook, tensed involuntarily. You felt your pulse quicken, a tingling rise along your spine, and a knot form in your stomach, a mix of nerves and desire.

Armin responded with the same slowness, his breathing deepened, and a slight tremor ran through his fingers as he leaned a little closer, as if making sure this moment was real. His hand rose gently, brushing your cheek before resting lightly on the table.

The world around you seemed to fade. There were only the two of you, that delicate and electric connection, that feeling that you were crossing an invisible line that had been drawn with looks and silences for a long time.

The kiss became a wordless dialogue: every movement, every pause, said what words couldn't express. There was uncertainty, yes, but also a shy trust growing with every second.

Your lips began to part slightly to take a breath, and that was when Armin gently slid his fingers down your neck, bringing you a little closer. The closeness of his breath, the warmth of his skin, all intensified the feeling of being trapped in a suspended moment.

There was no hurry or pressure, just a slow discovery, as if you both wanted to imprint every detail of that first encounter, every contained emotion that was now being released. When you finally parted, you both gave shy smiles and lowered your gaze, as if the world weighed a little after that moment.

"Honestly," you said, letting out a small nervous laugh, "I have trouble concentrating when you're this close." You said it jokingly, but with a sincerity that didn't go unnoticed.

Armin pursed his lips slightly, as if holding back, and murmured: "I've been avoiding thinking about that too."

Without looking away, he gently lifted your chin with one soft hand. He looked deeply into your eyes, searching for an answer in them, as if making sure the moment was real for both of you.

"Can we do it again?" he asked quietly, almost a whisper, loaded with desire and shyness. You nodded without hesitation, feeling your heart beat strongly.

This time, Armin approached with a gentle but firm determination, like someone who knows they are crossing a threshold with no turning back. His lips melted with yours in a deeper kiss, heavier with emotion, where every instant seemed to stretch, as if time folded to grant you an ephemeral refuge.

His body pressed against yours with contained urgency, the distance between you disappeared in a shared sigh. The brush of his chest against yours, the warmth radiating, wrapped you like an invisible, warm cloak amid the cold of the library.

It was a wordless dialogue, a secret language woven with the softness of his lips, the pressure of his hands, and the quickened beat of two hearts finally finding harmony. In that kiss mixed doubt and certainty, shyness and courage, contained desire and silent surrender.

It was as if the entire universe had shrunk to that contact, and in that instant, you knew there was no turning back, that this moment was a starting point, an encounter that broke down barriers and built bridges between two souls that had waited in silence.

You felt his hand, timid at first, begin to slide down your arm while his lips remained on yours. The caress was soft, almost reverent, but his fingers trembled slightly, as if he himself couldn't believe this was happening.

That gesture, so small and yet so intimate, ignited something within you. You wanted him closer. With an almost instinctive movement, you slid your chair until the sides of both bodies brushed, until the space between you disappeared completely.

The kiss then changed. It ceased to be a careful exploration to become something deeper, more urgent. Armin stopped caressing your arm and, delicately, put his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer to him, as if simple contact wasn't enough, as if he needed to make sure you were truly there.

This time, your tongues began to play, to explore, to recognize each other. It wasn't just desire; it was connection: a new language they both discovered at the same time, as if every touch, every shared breath, brought them closer to a truth they could no longer deny.

You both ran out of breath, but neither wanted to stop. It was as if in that silent corner of the university world, among books and notes, they had created their own universe, one where only they existed, their bodies, their sighs... and everything they still didn't dare to say out loud.

As the kiss intensified, something else began to awaken between them. It wasn't just desire; it was a mix of contained emotion and accumulated longing. The heat in their bodies became more evident, more urgent.

That game led to both of them becoming aroused. On one hand, your panties started to get wet and your clit began to throb with the desire of feeling Armin even closer. On the other hand, his penis was already completely hard, restrained by his tight jeans. To tell the truth, all Armin wanted was to be inside you and feel your warmth surround his cock.

Their breaths were deeper, more ragged, as if every caress, every touch, ignited a spark they didn't know how to extinguish. They both began to feel more heated, as if the air between them wasn't enough to cool everything that kiss had started to stir.

Without saying anything, they knew they were crossing an invisible line, a point of no return... but it didn't seem to matter to them.

You needed Armin to touch you, to know that in that moment, you were completely his. You took his free hand and positioned it over your chest, forcing him to squeeze your breasts. That made Armin let out a groan in the middle of the kiss and spread his legs to give his hard penis more room.

They separated slowly, as if their lips still resisted letting go. Both were breathing faster, with flushed cheeks and eyes shining with something beyond desire: it was a silent confession, a longing held for too long.

Armin looked down for a second, as if searching for the exact words. Then he looked up and held your gaze with an intensity uncommon for him.

"I've been wanting this for a long time," he said in a low voice, as if afraid of breaking the spell. "To kiss you... to touch you."

You didn't say anything at first, but your gaze spoke for you. He smiled, a little nervously, and looked away for a few seconds before confessing truthfully:

"Sometimes it was hard for me to concentrate. I told myself I had to stay serious, reserved... because of my role as an assistant. But when you arrived, it was as if everything else blurred."

There was a pause. It wasn't uncomfortable, but dense with meaning. Armin lowered his voice even more, barely a whisper:

"You don't know how many times I thought about you, about all of this. And I had to force myself to set boundaries."

You felt your chest tighten at that declaration. Something in his voice, in the way he spoke to you, made you feel completely exposed, but also safe.

You raised a hand and gently caressed his cheek.

"You don't have to set limits anymore," you whispered. "Not with me."

Armin closed his eyes for an instant as he felt your caress, and when he opened them again, it was with an expression that mixed relief, tenderness, and contained desire.

Their gazes met again, charged with a mixture of tenderness and contained desire. Without the need for words, they both knew they wanted to get closer again.

Armin leaned in slowly, and his lips met yours again, this time with a warmer and more confident intensity. The world seemed to disappear around them, leaving only the soft touch, the ragged breaths, and the shared beat of their hearts.

His hands began to explore delicately, tracing your skin with a tenderness that spoke more than any words. Every caress, every touch, was a silent promise, an invisible bond that united them in that unique instant.

You felt enveloped in his closeness, as if nothing else mattered, and at the same time, more aware than ever of every small detail: the warmth of his body, the softness of his skin, the subtle scent that enveloped him.

The silence between kisses was comfortable, full of meaning, as if they both understood each other without needing to say anything more.

It was a moment suspended in time, where the connection between you grew deeper, more sincere, more inevitable.

Armin put his hands on your breasts again, touching them softly, squeezing your nipples through your clothes, which made them harden. You took the opportunity and slid your hand down to his pants, where you felt his masculinity completely hard. You began to caress it and move your fingertips in circles over its tip, which made him sigh and open his lips, which you took advantage of to put your tongue in and explore his entire mouth.

In that moment, beyond any physical contact, what you truly felt was a deep connection, an invisible bridge that united your hearts and your fears, your desires and your doubts. Every touch, every sigh, was a silent conversation where nothing needed to be said to understand each other.

The world outside seemed to have vanished, and only the two of you existed, vulnerable and authentic, sharing a space where you could be yourselves without masks or reservations.

You felt his presence fill you with a warmth that went beyond touch, something that reached the most hidden parts of your being, awakening emotions that had been dormant for a long time.

It was a fragile and powerful instant at the same time, where the surrender was not only physical, but also of the soul. You separated again and Armin looked down, his voice barely a whisper as he leaned in a little closer.

"I want to feel you but I'm not sure if it's okay."

You looked at him softly, without hesitating for an instant.

"It's okay," you replied, with a calm that reassured him. "I want to feel you too. I'm just afraid we'll be found."

He nodded, still with some uncertainty, and got up to place a chair in front of the room door, blocking the way so no one could enter from outside.

"That way we'll be alone," he murmured, sitting back down next to you, his gaze full of a mix of nervousness and determination.

You smiled and kissed again. This time, with a gentle gesture, you took off your wool sweater, revealing your lace bra. You hadn't imagined reaching this moment, but you had chosen your clothes with the idea of him liking them.

Armin couldn't help but look at your chest for an instant before slowly approaching, placing delicate kisses on your neck, tracing your collarbones, then stopping over your breasts, with the tenderness and reverence only he knew how to show.

You kissed again, this time with a different intensity. As you did, you began to unbutton his white shirt, sliding it down until you completely removed it. His abdomen was exposed: firm and defined, with soft lines that reflected both youth and dedication, inviting further discovery.

Armin paused for a moment, his eyes scanning your face with a mixture of admiration and tenderness.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, with a sincerity that made you smile immediately.

You returned his gaze, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

"You are too," you replied, with a soft smile that touched his soul.

His lips met again in a sweet kiss, full of promises and discoveries. Delicately, Armin slid his hands to your feet and helped you take off your shoes, each movement as careful as if he feared breaking that perfect moment.

Then, his hands moved to the buttons of your pants, and with the same tenderness, he began to unbutton them, slowly sliding them down to free you.

Every gesture spoke of a connection that went far beyond the physical: it was an encounter between two souls who recognized each other, who sought each other out and surrendered with respect and affection.

He carefully helped you sit on the table, making sure you were comfortable. With a deep look, he indicated for you to open your legs slightly, approaching delicately and unhurriedly.

His lips sought yours in a soft, prolonged kiss, while his hands began to explore you with a tenderness that made time seem to stop.

With one of his hands, he began to massage your clitoris with the same delicacy with which he explored every gesture, every sigh, attentive to your every reaction, respecting your limits and seeking for everything to be an exchange of trust and mutual desire. This made you begin to moan softly against his lips, a sound so natural and sincere that it drove him completely wild. Your every sigh was like a melody that disarmed him, awakening in him a mixture of desire and tenderness difficult to contain.

His gaze became more intense, and with every gesture, with your every response, he felt that unique connection that united them in that instant grow, making him completely lose himself in you.

Armin knelt down carefully, slowly bringing his face closer to your vulva. His voice was barely a whisper when he asked, seeking your consent with his gaze.

"May I?"

You nodded softly, trusting him completely. You were grateful you had shaved a few days ago. Delicately, he moved the fabric covering you slightly, pushing it aside with care and respect.

His proximity became more intense, and he began to explore gently, attentive to your every reaction.

His movements were slow and delicate, like a silent caress that conveyed tenderness and contained desire. He began to lick your pussy and play with your clit. He gently sucked your femininity and made circles with his tongue over your clit. The atmosphere filled with soft whispers and ragged breaths, a wordless language that only the two of you understood.

With careful gentleness, Armin slowly slid two fingers inside you, exploring delicately while paying attention to your every small gesture. His movements were slow and full of tenderness, as if he wanted to discover a secret language in every response he received.

Armin bent his fingers slightly inward, finding the perfect spot for you to let out a groan that echoed in the room. He pulled away from your vulva a little and made a sound for you to quiet down. You leaned back and supported yourself with one hand, while covering your mouth with the other to muffle the sound.

"You're too wet," Armin said, continuing to slide his fingers in and out of your pussy. The slap of his hand against you made a sound that drove him wild. He wanted with all his being to be inside you.

The blonde continued his work, two fingers inside you, his tongue playing with your clit, and his other hand caressing your breasts. It wasn't long until you reached orgasm. Armin noticed it because you let out a muffled groan and began to move your hips to the rhythm of his fingers.

Your forehead was sweaty and your breathing accelerated. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, and Armin couldn't help but feel proud of that. "You make me feel so good," you replied, your voice breathless. "Please, let me do it to you now."

Armin smiled sideways as he helped you off the table. You knelt down and began to unbutton his pants. You could feel his penis about to explode under all that fabric. His boxers were white and a little wet from the pre-cum his penis had released. You bit your lower lip as you watched his dick spring out of his underwear. It was long, thick, and the tip was swollen and a lovely pink color.

You began to lick his penis from base to tip, exploring every inch with your tongue. Armin let out sighs and squeezed his mouth shut to keep from moaning and being heard by the rest of the library. As you lost yourself in that moment, what truly enveloped you was the deep connection you felt with Armin. It wasn't just the touch or the contact, but the way he seemed to understand you without words, as if you had your own intimate and secret language.

His every sigh, every glance, reminded you that you weren't alone, that someone was there for you, with respect and affection, sharing an instant that felt bigger than any you had ever lived before. The world outside disappeared, and only the two of you remained, wrapped in that bubble of emotions and complicit silences, where everything else seemed not to matter. It was a moment of surrender, yes, but also of trust and tenderness, a suspended instant where time seemed to stop and barriers vanished.

Armin took your head with both hands, careful not to hurt you, and began to guide you back and forth to feel the full depth of your mouth. You didn't complain; in fact, you were nervous about taking it all the way, so you were grateful he took the lead. Armin felt overwhelmed, not by nervousness, but by the intensity of the moment. Every caress, every touch, spoke to him of surrender and trust, of something that went far beyond physical desire. His eyes were half-closed, his chest rising and falling heavily, not because of what was happening, but because of what it meant. He felt his body tremble slightly, not just from pleasure, but because his heart was completely exposed.

In his mind there was no room for disordered thoughts, only a deep clarity: the certainty of being in the right place, with the right person. He closed his eyes and let the moment envelop him, full of tenderness, warmth, and a vulnerability he rarely allowed to surface. His hand sought yours, squeezing it tightly, as if he needed to anchor himself to you so as not to get lost in what he felt. The other remained on the back of your neck.

With passion, you took his penis with both hands and began to rub it while your mouth was focused on pleasing the tip. Armin was completely wet and the pre-cum he released tasted salty in your mouth. You loved seeing him like that, with his eyes half-closed and his breathing ragged, completely surrendered to the connection you shared. In that moment, Armin wasn't just the brilliant strategist or the loyal friend you had always admired: he was someone who trusted you, who showed himself vulnerable without fear.

Seeing him that way, open and unmasked, made you feel special. As if his surrender was a silent way of telling you how much he needed you, how much he valued you. You felt a deep warmth in your chest, a mix of tenderness, desire, and real affection. You loved him, beyond desire, beyond the physical. You loved him completely, even in his most fragile moments.

And in that instant, as your gazes crossed in silence, you knew there was nothing more important than the bond you were building together.

"Wait," he interrupted, releasing your head. "I feel like I'm about to..." You pulled away from him, swallowing the saliva that had accumulated in your mouth. "Do you want to finish in my mouth?" you asked sincerely.

Armin smiled shyly and shook his head. "I want to do it inside you."

His words took you by surprise. For an instant, time seemed to stop as you looked into his eyes, trying to process the intensity of what he had just said. It wasn't just the desire that impacted you, but the way he had said it: with honesty, with sweetness, with that mix of shyness and bravery that was so him. You felt a soft knot in your stomach, as if something inside you ignited fiercely. You didn't expect to hear him say that, at least not so frankly. And yet, a part of you felt deeply moved. Because in his words there was more than desire: there was trust. There was a silent surrender that made you feel loved, chosen, connected.

"But we don't have protection," you said as you stood up.

Armin blushed and, careful not to trip with his pants around his knees, he approached his backpack. Inside it, he had a hygiene kit from which he pulled out a condom. You couldn't help but smile seeing his clumsy but determined gesture. There was something endearing about his nervousness, about how carefully he prepared, as if every step he took meant something beyond the moment. Your smile wasn't just from the surprise that he came prepared, but because, deep down, you understood that he had wanted it too, that it wasn't something improvised. That he had thought of you.

"You're very smart," you said as you approached him.

Carefully, Armin opened the wrapper containing the blessed condom and put it on his penis. Meanwhile, you pulled down your panties and unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts, which became the target of Armin's eyes. He approached with that mix of tenderness and nervousness that moved you so much. His hands softly grazed your cheeks before he leaned towards you. When his lips touched yours, it was as if everything else disappeared: there was no hurry, no noise, no world beyond that instant. You felt his fingers entwine with yours for a moment, as if he needed to anchor himself, as if that contact was his way of telling you everything he still couldn't find words to express.

Then he lowered his mouth to your breasts and began to lick and massage them with his hands. Feeling his mouth and hands on you awakened a mix of warmth and tenderness that enveloped you completely. Every caress was like a silent whisper telling you that you were safe, that you were desired and valued. The attention he gave you made you feel important, unique, as if in that moment nothing else existed but his care and your surrender.

That closeness awakened a deep connection within you, an intangible bond that went beyond the physical. It was as if his gentle and attentive gestures spoke a language that only the two of you could understand, full of trust and complicity. You felt supported, understood, and at the same time vulnerable in the most beautiful way possible.

"Armin," you whispered, almost inaudibly, "bite them, please."

Almost instantly, the blonde began to bite your nipples and tug at them with his teeth. This made his penis grow even harder inside the condom he had put on. Your pussy was already wet enough and ready to receive him. It was what you needed most at that moment: to have Armin inside you.

You lifted your tutor's face with both hands and gave him a short but warm kiss before turning around and giving him your back. You stretched your arms backward to reach his hands and guided them to wrap around your waist. Afterward, you took his penis and guided it to the entrance of your vagina.

Carefully, Armin introduced his dick inside you, slowly pushing it deeper so it wouldn't hurt. Just having him inside made you groan with pleasure, to which the blond covered your mouth with his hand.

"Don't make a sound, beautiful," he whispered in your ear. "You don't want us to be discovered."

Those whispered words near your ear sent a shiver down your spine, awakening a mix of excitement and nervousness that enveloped you completely. His voice, low and protective, made you feel cared for and, at the same time, complicit in that secret moment.

You felt time slow down, and in that small space between his words and your breath, a deep connection was woven, a silent union that only you shared. It was as if the outside world ceased to exist, and only the two of you remained, united by that whisper charged with desire and tenderness.

The sensation of being both desired and protected filled you with a warmth you couldn't and didn't want to hide, and a shy smile appeared on your lips, complicitly accepting that silent game of secrecy and closeness.

Armin moved the hand he still had on your waist to one of your breasts, squeezing it as he slid his dick in and out of you. At first, he went slow, but as the seconds passed, he began to go faster and harder, causing your moans to collide with his fingers.

The blond began to kiss the back of your neck, which tickled you pleasantly, making your skin tingle. Each soft touch awakened a delicate sensation, a mix of surprise and pleasure that kept you completely attentive to his presence.

His closeness filled the air with a silent electricity, and in those small gestures, you felt a deep connection, as if each kiss was a silent word in a language only the two of you understood. You felt vulnerable, yet safe, as if you were in a refuge where you could let all your barriers down.

The warmth of his breath on your skin enveloped you, and without realizing it, your breathing began to synchronize with his, in a slow and harmonious rhythm that made time seem to stretch just for you.

Armin moved with a mix of firmness and delicacy, as if each gesture was charged with intention and contained passion. His movements were synchronized, a perfect balance between control and total surrender, setting a rhythm that seemed dictated by the deep connection you shared.

You could feel his body adapt to yours, responding to every subtle signal you emitted, as if you were both part of the same heartbeat. Every touch and every movement of his hands were intense, silently transmitting the growing desire between you.

His breathing accelerated, and although he tried to maintain serenity, there was a palpable fire in his gaze that completely disarmed you. In that instant, there was no room for doubts or fears; only the force of his presence and the urgency of that encounter that seemed to consume you.

"I feel like I'm about to come," he whispered in your ear as he sped up the movement of his hips. In response, you began to move at the same rhythm as him, which made him moan and thrust deeper. The sound of his balls hitting you drove you wild. You loved having him like that.

Armin let out a ragged groan and you felt his dick swell and throb inside you. You knew he had reached his climax.

Carefully, Armin pulled away from you, squeezing the condom with his hands to remove it along with his penis. He had ejaculated quite a bit, which made you smile.

"Did I make you feel good?" he asked with a worried look.

You looked at him with a soft smile, feeling a sweet warmth expand in your chest. His worried gaze softened as he listened to you, and you knew that in that moment, everything was worth it.

"Yes, it was wonderful," you replied sincerely, your words loaded with everything you felt.

His eyes shone with relief and tenderness, and without a word, he slowly approached, as if wanting to engrave that moment in memory. His lips touched yours in a warm, delicate kiss that seemed to say everything words couldn't convey. In that contact, you felt the world fade away, leaving only the deep connection between the two of you.

As they separated, Armin looked at you again with a shy smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I think we should hurry lest someone try to open the door and discover us," he said with a hint of urgency that contrasted with his usual calm.

You both laughed softly, and with a mix of haste and care, you began to dress. The fabric of your clothes once again covered your skin, but the sensation of closeness and warmth remained intact, like a soft flame that wouldn't extinguish.

As you gathered your things, your hands brushed several times, each contact sparking a small flame. Finally, ready to leave, Armin took your hand with a firm but tender gesture, intertwining his fingers with yours.

As you crossed the door, the fresh air of the library greeted you, and for a moment, you both stood there, enjoying the shared silence.

Armin turned to you and, with a sincere smile, said:

"See you in class" he looked down at your breasts "or another tutoring session."

Your smile widened, and with a slight blush on your cheeks, you replied:

"Of course, I'll be waiting for it."

With that simple exchange, full of unspoken promises, you said goodbye, carrying with you the memory of a moment that would undoubtedly mark the beginning of something special.

© jaegersmist

[zorasrealm]

nerdmin my love oh my god this is incredible

[maxxie-or-smth]

you've met me at a very "yeah i'm trying to work on that" time in my life

[shimmeringterroroblivion]

[aliienangel]

𝜗◞ ♡ 𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊 ; gazing at 𝒈𝒐𝒋𝒐 & his lifted shirt results in him dry humping you ꒱

every time you catch sight of gojo's happy trail your heart skips a beat. his arms lifting over his head to stretch his limbs out, the t-shirt he's wearing lifting up just enough to display the enticing visage of his lower abs leading down into his pants. white tufts of hair creeping out his pants and trailing upwards enough for you to see and feel a certain way about.

you avert your eyes after staring for far too long, long enough for gojo to pause mid stretch and tilt his head at you. his gaze trailing down his own body, trying to ascertain where you were looking. he doesn't seem like the astute type but you can practically feel the amusement rolling off him, easily picking up on what caught your attention.

"if you wanted me to take my shirt off... you could just ask."

you grumble back at him, annoyed by his ability to notice everything about you, "i don't want you to take your shirt off."

he hums a lilted tune, "hmm, certainly didn't seem that way with how you were eye-fucking me."

"i was not!" you gape at him, "you're imagining things, i fear your ego is growing too large for you to handle."

gojo walks the short distance to where you're sitting on the couch, his form leaning down so he's in your space. lips already hovering over yours as he asks, "so, we're not going to have sex on the couch?"

“i’m not that easy.”

a light laugh leaving him, “i am, you looked at me and now i’m all hard.”

"that's not my probl—"

his lips on yours shut you up, kiss heavy and already needy. he doesn't waste any time slipping his tongue into the mix, the taste of you making him shiver and whine. a sudden pressure around your wrist alerts you to his hold, his hand guiding yours. he places it under his shirt, your palm resting against the same trail of hairs that landed you in this situation.

the thrill that moves through you has you gasping into his mouth, pussy fluttering from how easily he overwhelms your senses. melting into him, letting him kiss you stupid. growing too horny to continue this way, you hold onto him and somehow manage to get him to lay on the couch.

his back resting on the cushions with you straddling him. "i wanna ride you," words spoken soft and tantalising, hand slipping under his shirt again to rest where it once was.

gojo's shirt rides up with your touch, the warm pressure of your soft palm has his cock twitching in his pants. "are you waiting for an invitation?"

"more like a plea," you challenge his glib attitude.

"pleaseee sit on my dick, pretty," his hands slide up your thighs to grip your hips, "i'm aching for it." and as if to prove his point, he ruts his hips up under you. grinding his erection against your clothed cunt.

your nails lightly scratch against his skin, lungs shuddering from the much needed stimulation. you're digging your teeth into your lower lip to stifle down any pathetic sound he might be able to pull from you. failing completely when he tugs you down at the same time that he's rutting up.

"fuuuuck– hold on– hnn– this feels soo—" he doesn't finish his sentence, head tilting back as he keeps dry humping you.

his skin is all flushed and radiating heat, eyes dazed and lost in the muted pleasure he's gaining from this. he's acting like a dog as he keeps relentlessly grinding against you. a small and pitiful whimper leaves him and you're keening into it. hands tugging his shirt up more, palms perched on him as you meet his grinds.

"wait– wait– hng– i'm gonna—" even though he's asking you to wait he doesn't stop his hips, continuing until he's shuddering through his own orgasm.

his pants growing damp as he cums in them, gojo can feel the way his seed clings to his clothes. coating his dick in his own sticky release. if it hadn't felt so fucking good he'd probably be embarrassed but he's in complete bliss right now.

"did you just cum?" you ask him, somehow even more aroused. his relaxed and borderline fucked out expression making you want him more.

he's panting softly, eyes glazed over as he answers, "you shouldn't have looked at me like that."

[deartokki]

♡ ྀི꒱ᩙ ࣪   ׅ   ⊹ kento covers himself while eating u out !

kento is the biggest munch you've ever been with! he'll eat it for breakfast, lunch, & dinner if he could（and trust me, he absolutely tries to !）

but there's one little peculiar thing he always does . .

he always covers himself with a blanket over him while his face is buried deep in your sweet core. when he did it the first time you two ever got intimate, you just thought it was something he did out of respect for you and you wouldn't put it past him to do something like that so you let it be.

as time went on though, he continued doing this and so you couldn't help wonder why. so today you decide to find out just that.

while he's ever so sweetly lapping at your slicked folds, you very slowly lift up the blanket and peek in to see your beloved. he doesn't seem to notice at first since you're still letting out those cute whimpers of yours. but then, he soon hears a soft giggle from you and that makes his eyes shoot up to look at you.

and gosh, he looks so goddamn cute & sexy at the same time — so greedily suckling on your puffy clit and stretching you out with those thick fingers of his, it's like he's completely lost in the moment. then . . his eyes flit up to meet yours whose peaking so adorably with that pretty smile on your face.

kento stops like he'd just been caught doing something naughty（technically he had been!）and then his entire face flushes a shade of pink, smushing his cheek to your inner thigh. you'd never seen him get flustered like this & you genuinely feel your heart do flips at how cute he looks.

"honey . ." he mutters, squishing his face even more into the plush of your thighs. ". . what are you doing?"

"just looking at my lovely boyfriend." you muse, running your fingers through his hair. "because he's always hiding himself when he's eating me out."

the flush on his face gets darker as he lets out a tiny groan, embarrassed & bashful. ". . i just get shy about it, sweetheart. i don't know why but i just do."

your heart flutters at his adorable admission, and with that, you lower the blanket back down & you can hear kento hum in delight as he dives right back in to devouring you ❤︎ !

[liahcharms]

my rifle, pony and her

What's the safest place to hide away from the local sheriff? A brothel, of course! And for a famous female outlaw, Gojo Satoru, the safest place on earth is between your arms. And legs.

written for the Luci's Cowboy Culture event by @sextier

pairing: outlaw!femjo x prostitue!reader

content/warnings: MDNI 18+, wild west au, set in 19th century, wlw, fluff, smut, smut and a bit of plot, scarjo, lesbian sex, oral sex, fingering, scissoring, masc femjo (mmm), happy ending, Satoru is super rich in every universe

WC: 4k

a/n: yeehaw! Forgive me for any mistakes, I was proofreading it at 2 am.

dividers by @olenvasynyt and @strangergraphics

When Satoru visited you for the first time, dusk had already settled over the lively town.

Warm lamps hanging by the brothel swayed in the wind, carrying droplets of crimson sand. The smoke curled around your lips as you stood on your balcony, looking over the drunk cowboys and giggling soiled doves walking through the red-light district. Brothels after brothels, divided by saloons, lined up and blared loud, jumpy tunes.

A heavy scent of alcohol lingered in the air, and you sighed heavily as another client entered the big wooden building where you worked. As another soiled dove, although Madam tends to believe you were one of the most precious petals here.

The wooden floor crooked under your heels. Long, white dress draped in lace took in the dust settling in the corners of a small room, and a few loose strands of hair fell, hugging your overly powdered, too-blushed cheeks.

Another client would arrive any second, so you stubbed out the cigarette and went back into the room. Old whisky stood on your wooden cabinet, and you prepared the glasses. It was always a bit easier when you were slightly drunk, especially with those old, sweating cowboys.

The place you worked at remained one of the best-known among locals, but also… outlaws. Oh, there was no better place to hide from the sniffing sheriffs than under the long skirt of a sweet prostitute!

And so Madam always forced the outlaws to pay much, much more just to let them sleep a few nights. They usually left after a few days, but not before jolling, drinking and fucking with scarlet women who were more than happy to hear their thrilling stories.

Of long, vast travels around the country and of constant cat-and-mouse play with the law. Of nights spent sleeping under the naked sky and of mornings when they woke on yet another farm with yet another married birdie.

Some of them would show their scars – long cuts from knives and bullets that grazed their necks when husbands of those young girls suddenly came back home.

The prostitutes loved listening to those frivolous, lighthearted stories with deep longing coiling in their eyes. As most of them, including you, were simply poor women whose families found themselves in nasty money problems.

And what was the best way to pay the debt without a sweat?

Sell a daughter, of course!

Four years have passed since you found yourself here, with a body used by countless men every day and eyes losing their young, girlish shimmer. There was no telling when you would leave this place, or whether you would at all, as women of your sort were often taken from the sweetness of those filthy walls either dead or crippled.

The gentle knock on the doors pulled you out of dreadful thoughts before they opened with a soft creak.

Madam's old face slipped inside. "My dear, a special client for you," she murmured, and you knew another outlaw had visited the establishment.

A low sigh escaped your lips, and you nodded before walking out of the room. It was too dangerous to keep them in your regular bedrooms, so you followed Madam to the attic, where darkness spilt through the covered windows and only a few small rooms lay hidden behind the old walls.

Your fingers curled tighter around the small lamp as she opened one of the doors with a nasty creak. But before you could enter, her hand grabbed your arm.

"This one is… special. They paid quite a large sum to see you, and, well," something in her eyes glimmered, as if the nature of your client made her a little awkward. "Take good care of them. You've never worked with someone like that, but… well, you're a woman yourself."

And so she pushed you inside, before closing the door back.

The full moon bathed the room in cold kisses, and a few short candles gave it a cosy atmosphere. Heavy, crimson materials draped the walls and the bed, which stood lonely near the wall.

But the moment you entered, your eyes fell immediately on him.

Or… her?

Slim back was covered by a flannel shirt, long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Lean legs dressed in old jeans, with classic, leather shoes wrapping her calves.

The brown hat lay on the small desk, and you could see the short white hair shimmering like cream in the pale moonlight. At first, she stood facing away from you, but when her eyes finally met yours… heavens.

Your lips fell slightly open as you saw the crystal-blue orbits, with a cheeky, warm smile curving her cherry cheeks.

She was oh so beautiful, with milky skin and the most lovely, sharp face you've ever seen. Multiple scars slashed her face, crossing her cheeks, chin, and lips, with a long, nasty one going right through her right eye. Something cheeky danced in her gaze as she scanned your frozen body from head to toe. Dressed in a loose-fitting white gown without a corset, to allow easier access for the client's sticky fingers.

But her fingers looked clean, kind, and gentle, and thus a sudden warmth spread across your cheeks at the thought of spending the night with her.

"You don't look scared, dove," a low voice filled the small space, as she leaned over the window. "Used to outlaws coming and going?"

You coughed faintly, leaving the lamp on the drawer. Two clean glasses and a half-empty bottle of whisky were already there. You took the nasty liquid and poured it with trembling hands.

"Well, our place is one of the few hideaways for people of your sort. Although…" you looked back at her, noticing the same cheekiness coiling in her gaze. "I've never met with a woman."

She pushed away from the window frame, slowly coming your way. Heavy leather boots clicked on the wooden floor, and only now did you notice how tall she was.

Tall and rather muscular, and if not for the face of a true sweetie and breasts bulging beneath the flannel, you would surely take her for a man.

"Do you mind?" she asked, taking a glass of whisky from your hand.

The crystal cups clinked in silence, and you took a small sip, not taking your eyes off her face. "I don't. I've never been with a woman, but I'm a quick learner."

Her blue eyes narrowed, lips curling with a hum. "Madam said you're the best dove here," she whispered, lifting her hand to curl a soft strand of your hair around her finger.

You could feel the warmth beaming off her chest. The fragrance of bonfire smoke, sweat and something sugary. Wrapping around your heart, filling it with something balmy and pleasurable, making your heart leap a little faster.

You've never taken clients' compliments seriously. They were sweet, yes, sometimes even rather filthy, and those you usually ignored with a smile, but with her, it was different.

In a way, she looked at you – with gentleness, patience, something warm and yet lined with hunger. When her finger brushed your cheeks, you shivered.

"Are you nervous?" she cooed slyly, sending another wave of heat down your spine. "We don't have to do it."

You shook your head, nuzzling into her hand. "That's what you paid for. How can we not?"

"I don't mind. Spending time in your presence is enough," her words carried sincerity, and something in your gut told you she really wouldn't mind paying solely for your company. But you… you were curious.

And when her thumb brushed your lower lip, you gladly wrapped your lips around it, sucking gently as your warm tongue slid down her long digit and along your cheeks. She hummed lowly, and her crystal eyes shimmered as she looked at the way you glanced at her from below, with the sweetest doe eyes and cherry lips sucking on her lone finger.

You pulled back with a pop. "I want to," you rolled, nuzzling into her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours. "But you need to teach me how."

She chuckled, stepping closer. Crystal eyes flicked between the open cleavage of your flimsy dress, with breasts spilling over the white lace, and the eyes, shining like the evening's moon. Round and pleading, with the sweetest innocence she had ever seen in a whore.

There was angelic loveliness in your hearty face, and yet she knew that casting wicked, love-spells must've been your speciality.

Especially with people like her – yearning for the warmth and delicate touch of a woman after months on the road.

"I thought you were supposed to do the job, dove," she brushed away a few stray locks of your hair before cupping your face. "But if you want me to take the lead, I will gladly serve you. My lady."

A second later, with a gentle flicker of a candle, her lips crashed against yours. In a gentle, sweet, yet ravishing kiss as she curled her arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrapped yours around her neck, forcing her to lean down, and closing your lips again, and again, and again, as her tongue smooched the inside of your mouth and throat, drinking in your soft moans.

You could feel her scars bulging under your tongue when you licked her lower lip with a faint moan.

She tasted of whisky and sugar, and maybe it was the first time you truly enjoyed the kiss. It was nasty in its own pleasurable way, making your thighs clench with warmth and breath hitch.

You started walking her back towards the bed until the backs of her knees hit the edge; she sat down. Your hips quickly climbed over hers, rolling the dress up until the thin gown folded around your hips. Long, lacy knee socks wrapped your legs, and she moaned as the fat of your thighs spilled over the flimsy material.

"I can't believe some nasty bastard could have this," she groaned, cupping the swell of your ass. Her long fingers dug deeper, squeezing the skin and rolling your hips against her. "How many clients do you have every night, hm? One, two? I paid for two full days in advance, so no one else will touch you."

You cried as her lips slipped down your chin and neck, licking it gently and sucking on the delicate skin of your throat.

"Mmm–"

"Satoru," she whispered, before placing another kiss under your jaw. "Call me Satoru, dove."

And then, as if a bucket of cold water had run down your cheeks, it finally flickered.

The posters, glued all over the town, with those milky strands peeking from every corner, eyes hidden behind a brown hat.

Gojo Satoru.

The first and most famous female outlaw, wanted for multiple train robberies, bootlegging, gunfights, and, most of all, for the massive accumulation of gold.

It was difficult to tell whether she truly was as rich as everyone said, but the way her fingers gripped you with unwavering confidence, and eyes drank in the softness of your face, told you that she indeed was someone.

She chuckled, sensing a shiver run down your spine. "So you've heard of me, my lady?"

Her fingers tug at the flimsy material covering your breast, and with a single move, it slipped off your arms.

A low, "Fuck," rolled, when she wrapped her lips around your perked nipple. Another hand squeezed the other tit, rolling the hardened bud between her fingers. "Unfortunately, there's nothing to get drunk on," she smiled, looking up from a curtain of long lashes.

"Ah–Satoru, mmmm," you cried, feeling the warmth of her mouth spilling around your breasts. "There's s-still whisky if you want."

She chuckled, biting gently on your nipple till your back arched. "My lady, I wasn't talking about the whisky."

A quiet oh slipped past your lips when you understood. Her hand pulled you closer, letting her face dive into your soft breasts. Warm tongue curled, lapped, and tickled your swollen buds as she moved between them, letting out low pops and groans.

For the first time in your life, you truly started taking pleasure from such intimacy. Your hips rolled against her as if seeking some kind of traction that would let your squeezing cunt spill its sweet juices. Flimsy panties were completely drenched, sticking to your swollen folds.

You didn't know whether to focus on her heavy gaze pinning you down to her thighs or lips sucking on the plush breasts. With low moans and squeezes of your fat, as you tried to push yourself into her mouth.

"S-Satoru," you whispered shyly, trying to push her onto the bed. "Let me take care of you. I should be the one doing it."

But instead of letting her back hit the mattress, she quickly curled your arms around your waist and changed position. Letting your hair spill all over the soft bedding and thighs spread wide open.

"I paid quite a hefty sum, my Lady. Why won't you let me do what I want, hm?" Her thumb traced the drenched material of your panties, pushing the swollen clit through the lace, before rolling them off your trembling thighs. "Fuck, my lady. Are you always this wet?"

"N-no, I've never-ah!," a sweet cry slipped out, when her fingers spread your folds. "I've never felt anything like that."

Crystal eyes flickered to your teary face. "Never?"

You shook your head. "No, I've never taken any pleasure from sex."

And it seemed that your words must have snapped something inside her mind. As a low my god rolled past her lips, and she quickly started undressing herself. The flannel shirt revealed reddened breasts with rosy, hard nipples and multiple scars decorating her chest, belly, and shoulders.

When the trousers slipped down the long legs, you noticed another slash, and your heart squeezed in pain upon seeing how much she truly had to suffer.

And yet, a wicked smile curved her lips as she saw your big, pleading eyes fixed on her heavy, milky breasts.

"Are you okay, dove?" she asked, jumping off her jeans before rolling down the flimsy panties too.

Oh, you were not okay.

In fact, you were rather anything but okay, with thighs still spread wide open, breasts spilling from the tight robes, cheeks smooched with cherries and a lovely gaze looking down at her pussy. You bit down on your lower lip as she moved closer, joining you on a bed.

The white dress slipped off your body, leaving you bare and breathless beneath Satoru's silky fingers.

"So beautiful," she whispered, leaning in to kiss your fallen lips. "The most beautiful dove I have ever seen."

Her lips travelled down your chin, neck, breasts, wrapping around your perked buds again before kissing your plush belly. She bit down on a little roll, making you squirm under her cheeky fingers, spreading your thighs open.

Folded in half, you tried to look down at how dangerously close she was to your leaking cunt. With lips kissing the mound, before slowly, slowly, finally, curling around your clit. Her tongue plastered itself to your cunt, giving her a long, nasty lick.

And it was… dear heavens.

Maddening, mind-clouding, pushing out a high-pitched moan from your lungs, as if you had kept it there for the past two decades. Her soft strands tickled your thighs, and she looked absolutely mesmerising – with her chin already drenched in your juices and forehead creased with pleasure.

As if lapping around your folds and slurping on sugary cum was enough to give her pleasure.

"My lady, fuck, you're so delicious," she moaned straight into your cunt, sending a trembling wave right into your clit. "If the sheriff were to come in right this second, he would not be able to pull me away from this sweetness."

Your cheeks burned upon hearing filth slipping past her lips, but you were too weak to say anything. With mind clouded by pleasure and back arching off the mattress, upon feeling her lips sucking on your clit and tongue gathering the sticky cum.

When a single finger slipped in, you cried miserably, finally lifting yourself onto your shoulders. From this perspective, the view of her creamy, arched back and the swell of her ass was even better.

Starving moans escaping her throat filled the bedroom, as she scooped a hefty cum from your walls and drank it madly. Your swollen clit was ready to burst any second – bending, crying, burning under her tongue.

"S-Satoru, mhmm, so g-good," you moaned, rolling your hips against her plastered tongue. Moving with desperate, aggressive urgency, gripping her hair and pulling her even closer. Although closer was indeed not possible, as Satoru was already nose-deep between your folds. "Breath, oh God, Satoru–ahhh!"

She pulled away with a faint pop, before a second finger slipped in. "My lady, suffocate me with your thighs, I don't care," she mewled, eyes completely lost. As if the sweetness of your cunt truly made her drunk! "Ride my face, dove, come on," she wrapped her lips around your clit, before you started rolling your hips again.

And only then have you noticed that Satoru's second finger travelled down, down her body, right into her leaking cunt. She pinched her clit while wrapping lips around yours, as if trying to synchronise the pleasure washing over both of your spines. A hefty pool of cum was dripping down the bedding, and you whimpered miserably, seeing a waste of such sweetness.

"Let me taste you," rolled quietly, and she looked up. "I want to taste you too."

She chuckled before lifting drenched hand up to your lips. Her long fingers were glued with strings of silky cum, stretching between the slim digits, and when you wrapped your lips around one, another wave of pleasure tickled your skin.

Honeyed delicacy spilt on your tongue, and a cry rolled again, feeling the sudden warmth pooling in your lower belly. "Satoru–mhmm–let me, ahh, let me eat you out."

"Next time, dove," she murmured, before pulling away. Two fingers still abused the soft spot inside you with brutal tenderness. She knew how to drive you over the edge and still caress your body with gentleness. "I have a better idea."

When her fingers suddenly pulled out of your soft walls, a lovely pout twisted your lips. She chuckled, leaning in to give you a short, sweet kiss. "Don't worry, my lady. I think you'll like it."

And before you noticed it, her milky thigh slipped over yours, pushing you into a rather weird yet oh so nasty position. With her drenched pussy glued to yours, letting your juices mix. A little, sweet clit perked from between her folds, and you reached to roll her gently between your fingers.

"Ahh! My lady–" Satoru sighed, allowing you to do it again.

And again, again, till she herself started to wave her hips and seek the friction of your soft pads. The loveliest moans slipped past her lips, and thus, you could finally cherish the crease of her forehead and the beads of sweat coating her bouncing breasts.

But then she pulled your hand away, letting your folds connect once again. Your swollen, trembling clits brushed against each other, and both of you moaned before she started moving.

In harsh, mean rolls, filling the room with filthy squelches and smearing your cunt in her juices. Her sticky, sweet nectar dripped down your folds, clit, before slipping warmly into your tightening hole. You always detested clients who wished to fuck you raw, and yet your spine tingled and the feeling of her warm cum filling your hole,

She spread your legs even wider, allowing herself to sit on your pussy with a full weight, till not even a finger could slip past your connected folds.

Her hardened clit smooched yours in harsh, slippery friction, making your mind spill and toes curl in maddened pleasure. The wetness coiling in your lower belly was dangerously close to spilling, and when she reached towards your nipples, your back arched.

"Satoru, mhmm, I'm s-so–" slipped drunkenly. "Feel so good, s-so–ah–good."

She chuckled, but you've noticed how close she was too. With lips fallen open and gaze fixed on your hearty face, haunted by pleasure. Crystal eyes shimmered, and she would not lie, saying that the pleasure taken from seeing your teary face was already enough to push her over the edge!

"I'll pay for you," she suddenly muttered, rolling her hips even faster. Her clit rubbed against yours, sticky juices coated your cunt with hers, and this feeling alone was loosening the knot in your belly. "I'll pay for your freedom, so fuck, run away with me. I have a small farmhouse, down south. We can, ahhh, live there in peace. No one will find us."

You felt too fucked to truly understand her words, but your heart swelled with hope nonetheless. She wasn't the only client who promised such dreams, but the first to state them with such seriousness.

With this haunting look in her eyes, taking you in like the most precious treasure. With her fingers caressing your skin so tenderly, as if handling something of utmost delicacy, and her lips peppering your skin with the most loving kisses.

And so when her finger slipped down your pussy and pushed your clit for the one last time, you cried pitifully, gushing all over her cunt. Her breath hitched, and a sweet, low moan slipped past her lips, before you felt the wetness of her cum spurring all over yours.

It was messy, raw, with her squirting mixing with yours and heavy breaths fogging the small room bathed in candle-warmth.

The pleasure coiled beneath your skin, biting raw into your feverish flesh. When she leaned down to kiss you, something in your mind forced you to say, "Yes."

As the truth was that even if at risk, the vision of running away with this woman made your heart beat in an unfamiliar rhythm.

She kissed you again, and again, whispering softly let's run, together, I promise to treat you kindly, while her juices were still mixing with yours, and hips rolled slowly. Your fingers wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer as if wishing to hide beneath her skin.

The closeness you shared simply wasn't enough.

And so the next two days you've spent rolling in bed, with your lips between her folds and hers on yours. Sometimes she would push you into the most extravagant position, force you to ride her fingers like a true cowgirl while sucking sweetly on your bouncing tits.

You laughed and talked, inside the small room that counted days of her departure and of your freedom. She told you more about the promised farmhouse – the animals, warm garden, sunsets spreading over the porch, smooching the sky in crimson hues. About all the bank robberies and the times she almost got caught, tracing softly all the scars coating her body and telling the story of each. About her dear friends and all the gold she has gathered, as if still trying to convince you that life with her will be good.

But you didn't need to be convinced, as the single look into her loving eyes was enough.

And so, on the third day, you woke without her by your side. The bed was frozen cold, even though the summer couldn't be any warmer.

Your heart leaped into your throat at the sight of her things being gone. The hat, the flannel shirt, and the small bag she had brought with her.

A panic rose in your chest as you looked around the tiny room. In search of something, anything, just to make sure that she, in fact, hadn't left you here.

In a place where you would surely die.

After a moment, something white has caught your attention. A neat, creamy sheet of paper, lying folded on the bedside of an old wooden drawer.

You took it with shaking fingers before finally releasing a deep, teary sigh.

Everything is settled, dove. Meet me tonight at midnight behind the back door. Don't bring much. My heart needs only you.

Yours, Satoru

And thus the promise of evenings filled with orange sunset hues and hours spent peacefully on a porch suddenly became sharper.

As your young, fair heart needed nothing, no one, but a woman who spent half her stolen fortune to set her dove free.

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

I'm ready to spend eternity with my wife... thank you Luci for creating the event, I had so much fun writing it! <3

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[f-tality0]

Cheese!!!!

[gnabisms]

‎ꫂ᭪݁ random things husband!nanami does that you find attractive

content warnings. dadamin 👅, dilf!nanami (aura wise), modern!au duh, reader is pretty weird but arent we all?, reader is referred to as ( darling, sweetheart, angel ), not proofread we die like satoru gojo, you both have a cat, suggestive

author’s note. thank you all for 300 followers ♥︎ i wouldn’t have done this without any of you or your support

EXHIBITION (A): COOKING @ 8:48AM

it was yet another morning in the nanami household. like clockwork, kento woke up early and fed your cat, jazz. his pyjama pants were resting low on his waist, scratches all over his back from last night’s, er.... shenanigans.

he whipped out a pan from the oven and placed it on the stove top, meaning to make pancakes. just as he was pouring the mixture into the oiled pan, he heard your feet padding down the stairs, “good morning, sweetheart,” he said in that raspy, deep voice of his.

you had to bite back a moan, seriously.

i mean, the sight in front of you first thing in the morning was enough to warrant a moan, an orgasm even. your hot husband standing, cooking for you, broad back flexing, sun shining down at him highlighting his features, making him look like an angel in his grey sweatpants glory, finally wearing something that wasn’t his three-piece suit.

nanami’s voice snapped you out of your daze, “darling, are you alright?”

“pshhtttt, why wouldn’t i be alright?” you threw your hand in front of you awkwardly. nanami hums, “i don’t know, you zoned out there for a moment.”

you scoff in response, “what, so i can’t admire my husband nowadays?”

he chuckles, “i didn’t say that, sweetheart.”

the moment is cut at the feeling of a cat nuzzling against your legs. you bend down to pick up the cat in front of you, “good morning, baby” you say in a high-pitched voice and jazz just meows in response. because, believe it or not, that’s what they do.

then you put jazz down and go love on your husband a little bit.

you hug his side and pepper kisses his cheek before trailing down to his neck, sucking some spots there.

yeah, nanami knows that you’re clingy but not to this point. but he chooses not to question it further and soakes in the love you’re showering him with instead.

EXHIBITION (B): DRIVING @ 1:12PM

since it’s a weekend, you both figured it would be nice to go to the beach.

you pack all the things you need and place them in the trunk. you wore a pair of meduim-rise shorts and a cape top underneath your two-piece set. meanwhile, nanami just wore a tshirt over his swimming trunks.

the sun formed a halo around the both of you, making you look like angels.

the car speakers that were connected to your phone were blasting every summertime by niki, perfectly setting that summer vibe.

on a normal day, you would be singing along (loudly and totally off key) to whatever was playing or taking some scenery pictures with you and nanami’s shared camera that you decided to buy even if you’re mostly the one who uses it.

but today is different and somehow just like any other day.

you always stare at nanami when he drives because he just looks so hot doing the most mundane stuff. although today, he just stood out with how the sun was shining over him.

“you’re staring, sweetheart,” nanami breaks the silence glancing briefly at you then returns his attention back to the road.

“i can’t help it, you just look so... scrumptious” you admit shamelessly.

he fucking chuckles and you think it’s the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard despite hearing it many, many times.

you just keep staring in awe, jaw slack. until he utters:

“i can just pull over, you know.”

he’s mostly teasing you and you know he’s just teasing so the next right thing to do is... tease him back, “don’t tempt me with a good time, mr. nanami.”

he chuckles and you both fall back into comfortable silence.

EXHIBITION (C): PUTTING STUFF TOGETHER @ 5:02PM

you both read so often and own so many books you didn’t realise that it was growing ever so rapidly.

that’s led to now: you were leaning on the wall in front of your husband who was currently sprawled on the ground putting together your second bookshelf.

but that’s not the point.

you were biting your lips so much you could almost feel the metallic taste of blood.

why is that?

well, while your dear darling husband was screwing in the screw, the veins on his forearms were bulging and what a sight it was.

to say you were mesmerised would be an understatement.

you genuinely felt like you were gonna pounce at him in any moment.

he turned to see you blantly staring at his forearms and smirked, “like what you see, darling?”

hearing his voice snapped you out of your daze, “you’re just seeing things, ken.”

kento chuckles and replies: “keep staring, sweetheart,” he glances at you, still smirking.

you felt your face flushes even more at his comment. screw you, nanami kento!!!!

EXHIBITION (D): READING @ 9:20PM

you’re tapping the moisturiser into your face and kento is just taking his supplements.

he settles into bed and you follow after wrapping your hair in the bonnet. he wraps his arm around your waist while picking up the book he was reading earlier that day to do what he loves doing most in his free time (other than enjoying your company): read.

jazz climbs up onto the bed and nuzzling into your lap. “hi, baby!!!! you wanna sleep with mama and papa?” you spoke in that high-pitched voice you always use with cats and kids.

the cat in your lap just purrs contently and nuzzles himself deeper into your lap.

but your attention got redirected to something else.

your attention is now on the man sitting next to you, peacefully reading. you decide that his peace isn’t gonna last long.

“ken, has anyone ever told you how handsome you look while reading?” you ask him while grinning like a fool in love (you are).

“no one except you, darling,” he says calmly.

“mmm, maybe i should tell you more often,” you hum sleepily before laying down, drifting off to dreamland.

he kisses your head and murmurs “goodnight, my love.”

masterlist ♥︎ ͏͏͏ @gnabisms © ─ 2026 don’t repost or steal or translate on any platform without my permission. absolutely don’t use to train to AI or feed to AI chatbots.

[sherrycr0w]

Shokohime pilled

[zorasrealm]

okay so there's a low number of wlw fics in the jjk community in comparison to others and idk i'm trying to be the change i wanna see in the world so lmk which one you guys would be most interested in... xoxo

pick ur fav

shoko x reader

yuki x reader

utahime x reader

Voting ended onMay 16

tags xx

[zorasrealm]

finals are killing me but i'll start working on a shoko fic asap once i'm done in a few days🙏 thinking of something with a little angst.. hihi with a happy end ofc bcs i can't handle it otherwise 🤧 xoxo

[requiemdesreves]

BROOKLYN BABY

Everyone outside the hotel thinks they know you. They know the stage persona, the voice, the eyeliner, the way you destroy yourself on stage night after night. But only Vi knows what happens after the lights go out—how your hands shake after concerts, how exhausted you really are, how badly you need someone to hold you together before you completely fall apart.

tags: explicit sexual content (18+), rockstar au, singer!reader, guitarist!Vi, tribbing, pussy grinding, clit stimulation, nipple play, biting, spitting, finger sucking, weed smoking, praise and teasing, emotional intimacy, soft dom Vi.

The bathroom in your hotel room smells like weed, steam, and your shampoo. The hot water runs down your body like punishment, barely any pressure behind it, but you’re grateful for every drop anyway because tonight’s show was a slaughterhouse, too many people, too much noise, too much of everything. The microphone still vibrates in your hands even though it’s been two hours since you walked offstage, your throat feels scraped raw from screaming down to your guts, your makeup running because you couldn’t even bother taking it off before the shower, and your thighs ache from jumping under the stage lights. Nobody prepared you for this, for this animal devotion, the roar, the pressure of being the band’s singer, of making every show more epic than the last even while you’re falling apart inside. Outside the hotel there are probably another hundred, another thousand fans, all convinced you’re some untouchable goddess and not a wreck of a human being who hasn’t slept properly in six months.

The only thing you have is Vi. Vi, with her razor-cut hair dyed by you, tattooed arms and easy laugh, waiting for you in bed like you’re the center of gravity of the whole fucking universe. She’s completely naked, legs spread, with that hungry look she never loses. There’s a joint between her teeth and she watches you, impatient and amused, while you walk out of the bathroom, barely drying yourself off, naked all the way to the bed where she’s already turned the lights off. Without saying anything, you throw yourself on top of her, crush her under your wet body, and she takes you in laughing, kissing you slow enough that it feels like slow motion. Vi holds the back of your neck, plays with your lips while her hands slide down your back to your ass, squeezing you and pulling you higher against her.

“You know what killed me today?” Vi asks, pulling back from the kiss, voice rough from cigarettes and screaming.

“What?”

“When you hit that high note a few hours ago. I thought your throat was gonna split in half.”

“I almost threw up,” you answer with a laugh, pressing your forehead to hers. “How’s your hand holding up?”

Vi lifts it, flexing her knuckles, all bruised and dry-skinned from the chords. “It’ll fall off on its own eventually. I’m letting it.”

You kiss her hand and look back up at her eyes, not before stopping at her lips first, of course. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t stop you. Vi is always willing when it comes to you, no matter how crazy or ridiculously romantic it is. Taking advantage of that, you keep kissing lower, tracing a path to her middle finger, sucking it gently. Vi sighs at the heat of your mouth, your tongue around her finger, and decides to push her ring finger in too, grabbing your chin so she can talk.

“You know there’s an afterparty, right?” she says quietly, pulling her fingers from your mouth even though she doesn’t want to, just to hear your answer.

You nod. “I don’t give a shit about the afterparty,” you admit. To you, one more party or one less never meant much anyway. It’s all the same in the end. “I’m good here.”

“You sure you’d rather have this than a party with music, food, alcohol?” she asks in that low, dirty voice.

“Mm.” You murmur against her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses, soft and lazy, teasing her with a small bite that makes her grab the back of your neck. “You’re better than all that, Violet.”

Vi laughs, flips you over in one sharp movement and leaves you underneath her, her thigh wedged between yours. She leans down, kneading your tits, staring at them like they’re something precious, or like she likes to call them, “her stress balls.” She licks one nipple hungrily, moaning before you even do, enjoying this as much as you, maybe more. Vi takes her time, sucking each nipple one by one, biting right at the edge of pain. She talks with her mouth still against your skin.

“We could be on a yacht right now,” she says, “But you want a stiff bed and hotel sex.”

You pull her hair back and stare into her dark, burning blue eyes.

“You can leave if you want,” you reply, pretending not to care while partly daring her to do it. With a glance, you point at the faint smoke still rising from the joint she abandoned on the nightstand. “Give it to me.”

Vi brings it to her mouth, takes a long drag, then parts your lips with her thumb and blows the smoke into your throat while kissing you. You choke a little, the burn sliding down your chest, your mind starting to float while your hands move on their own, desperate, touching Vi’s body like she’s liquid, like every inch of her skin is charged with static electricity.

Vi lowers her hand to your cunt, just playing, like she could torture you mercilessly all night long. Her finger gets bolder, stroking between your lips where she finds wetness. She laughs under her breath.

“You’re sick,” she mocks. “Concerts turn you on?”

“You turn me on, idiot.”

Now it’s your turn. You slip your hand between her legs and rub her clit with practiced rhythm, pressing slow circles, feeling the heat build while Vi curves toward you, mouth at your ear, breathing hard.

“Come on, doll, I know you love making me cum. Do it,” she begs, and the fragility in her voice catches you off guard.

You answer with the same touch, picking up the pace without going too fast, searching for the exact spot that makes her shake. Vi kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulders, biting everything she can until you feel marked and feral. Before letting her enjoy your fingers too much, you switch positions, climbing on top of her, pressing your pelvis against hers until your cunts line up, heat and slick mixing together, your clits searching for each other.

It’s slow at first, just brushing, grinding, feeling the pulse of your bodies and the sway of your hips, sticky skin sliding together, slick overflowing between your thighs. Vi guides you with her hands on your waist, tattoos shining under the dim light, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

“That’s it, baby,” she murmurs against your neck, already lost in the feeling of you against her. “So good, so fucking good. Don’t stop.”

Vi forces you to grind harder, to crush yourself against her like you could eat her whole.

“Fuck, Violet.”

“Ah, there it is,” she teases quietly, breath brushing your skin. “That little voice. I like that one.”

You bite her shoulder just to shut her up for a second, but she only laughs against your neck, completely entertained by you.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“Then stop making such pretty sounds.”

There’s no sound except your bodies slamming together, Vi’s muffled moans, your ragged breathing, the dull thud of your heads against the headboard, hot crushed tits and the smell of sex filling the whole room. Your mind goes blank, only movement and hunger exist, the need to grind her down until she surrenders, until she cums first.

But Vi is stubborn. She holds on like a champion. So you take control, hook her legs over your shoulders, spread her wide and line your cunt up with hers higher, closer. Then you start grinding again, slower this time, your clits rubbing together, swollen pussy lips slick and hot, heat climbing like a fever.

You look down at her, your pace slowing more and more, like you want to feel every tiny tremor running through her body. Vi’s cheeks are flushed, lips shiny and swollen from all the kissing, and she’s still smiling at you in that insolent way that melts you.

“What?” she murmurs, still rubbing against you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You don’t answer right away. You just brush a strand of hair stuck to her forehead aside and run your thumb over her bottom lip, soft, almost tender.

“Open your mouth, my love.”

Vi does it without questioning you, staring up at you, trusting, like she’d let you do anything to her as long as it was you. The gesture is slow, intimate, more vulnerable than anyone would ever expect from her. And when your spit falls onto her tongue, slow and warm, Vi lets out a quiet sound that tightens something in your chest more than between your legs. Her fingers sink into your thighs as she swallows without looking away.

“Again,” she whispers, rough and needy. “Please.”

The way she asks makes you kiss her before answering. Your mouths crash together wet and messy, sharing breath and taste without caring about anything else. There’s no disgust, no shame, just hunger and affection tangled together in a way that can’t be separated.

Vi cups your face while you keep grinding together, slow but desperate at the same time. Every kiss feels like she wants to swallow your moans, your soft laughs, even the air from your lungs.

You’re close, too close, orgasm bubbling low in your stomach, but you refuse to cum before she does. Vi looks wrecked, mouth open, begging for more, repeating “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” so you keep going, grinding your cunts together until suddenly her body arches and she cries out, rough and animal, pure pleasure. Heat explodes between you, soaking everything, and only then do you let go too, your legs shaking while your body collapses onto hers.

You stay there for a moment, breathless. Vi strokes your hair, your cheek, kisses your eyelids.

“nNw it actually feels like we had a party.”

“We’re disgusting,” you say, but you’re laughing.

“Does that bother you?” she asks, with a hint of vulnerability.

“The opposite.” You kiss her cheek, her forehead, her mouth. “I want you exactly like this. With everything you come with.”

“You wanna skip rehearsal tomorrow?” she asks, grinning with that wicked spark in her eyes. “Stay here all day, fuck and write songs.”

“Otherwise what the fuck are we rockstars for?” you say, kissing her, and inside that kiss, it feels like the whole world fits.

✦ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @riotstemple29, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @myrlovestrees, @cherry-kissesxox, @caitvisthirdmember, @visalcoholstore, @poeticrenaissance, @mxchi-mxxn, @mwahbabe, @sevikas-whore, @gh00styyy, @cutflwr, @gabrielthethird, @lonerslug, @sasseffect, @celinealways, @lilas712, @mseilishmwah, @monroesg1rl, @love-bites-and-poetry-burns, @rawrspacecat, @macamilarofe, @bb-cookiee, @thatredheadloserlesbian, @lobotomymutt, @rudymoon, @naexdreams, @l4dyaranea, @wiinterz, @jaxiswlw, @sveraia, @kanadadryer, @imyoursun,@st4rgirl-444, @lizzieicecreamqueen, @jiaxm77, @snowynotgurl442, @wildernessmuse, @hi-imjusthere, @ilovewomenfr, @annaqwt, @femmeblu, @minaaminaa8, @tojisasscrumbs

[to00fu]

the taste of you and me will never leave my lips again

[ndsoda]

I love him so much.

[tasneff]