head in the clouds

chai (she/her) | 21+ | blk | full-time grad student | xsilverstar (AO3) Multi-Fandom Fem Reader author: JJK, AOT, Hazbin, etc. NSFW/SFW | 18+ ONLY | MDNI | DLDR I don’t take requests atm, but feel free to use the Ask button for prompt ideas or to send some love! i hope we can be friends! ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜.ᐟ ♡

summary: alastor finds out that you cheated with lucifer behind his back. he's determined to remind you who you truly belong to. themes: infidelity, revenge sex, face fucking, choking, dub-con, power play, vampire!reader, fallen!reader word count: 1.1k | ao3 full ♡ (one of author's personal favorites)

In the middle of the night, you were woken by an unusually cold draft of air.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you squinted at the window facing the foot of your bed. You certainly remembered closing it before going to sleep, but for some reason it was now wide open. That would explain why it was suddenly so frigid.

Making your way to said window, you rubbed sleep from your eyes before sliding the glass pane downwards. With a click, you flipped the window lock and pulled the curtains back into place, thrusting the room into comforting darkness once again.

Before you could make another move, you felt a sudden presence behind you. Blood drained from your face as soon as you recognized his familiar, woodsy scent.

“Alast—ow!”

He tugged your arm behind your back and smashed your face into the window, his sharp nails digging into your skin. Struggling against his tight grip, you felt coiling tendrils wrap around your legs and force them apart while another set lifted the skirt of your gown, the shadows as warm as Alastor’s own hands. You gasped when his hips pushed against your own, something long and hard poking into you.

A nervous sweat pricked at your skin. Quietly, you asked, “Y-you’re mad, aren’t you?”

“Mad? What makes you say such a thing, darling?”

He touched your neck, manifesting a tight red collar with a golden bell. His fingers traced down your neck tenderly before they curled around the leash.

Your head jerked backwards, your hands flying to the squeezing collar. Clawing at it, you choked and sputtered for breath, but Alastor did not let up. You grew dizzy, and right when you were sure you'd pass out, Alastor released you entirely.

Collapsing onto your hands and knees, you coughed and wheezed as air rushed back into your lungs. He didn’t let you rest for long before grabbing you by the hair, pulling you along behind him as you tried to escape his grasp. Despite your fighting arms and legs, Alastor dragged you across the floor steadily, giving no reaction when your nails pierced the flesh of his arm. Once he made it to the bed, he thrust your head upwards to look at him.

There was a fury you had never seen before in those eyes of his. They glowed effervescently as he looked down on you like you were nothing more than a mortal worm.

You felt tears poke at your eyes as you panted. Alastor kept an assertive hand on your head, his lips curling into an even wider smile.

“Oh, pet, don’t look at me like that. I went through so much effort to sneak out of the Vees tower so I could give you a gentle reminder of who you belong to. You don’t like it?”

With a twirl of his fingers, you felt something hard and steel clamp down onto your wrists. You looked down to see a pair of red handcuffs, and when you looked back up, Alastor’s throbbing glans was just an inch away from your nose. His eyes narrowed at you as he pushed his hips forward, smearing thick precum across your cheek.

“Maybe you’ll like this better?” he purred. “I knew you were a cock-hungry slut, but I didn’t figure you’d settle for something as tiny as Lucifer’s just because I left you alone for a few days.”

Your mouth immediately opened, your tongue lolling out for him as you obediently chased after his waving member. You moaned when he jerked your head back, your shoulders trembling as your body ached with need. Desperately, you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry. You let that filthy mongrel use my holes, and all you can say is sorry?”

Your eyes teared up, your wrists straining against your confines as you watched his dick spasm before you. You couldn’t fight the strength of his hand in your hair, so you shook your head and whined, “You left me alone without even warning me! Do you know how hungry I was?!”

“Hungry?”

The room began to shake as Hell itself trembled beneath the hotel. Alastor gained a sinister expression, his eyes shifting to radio-like dials as his neck unnaturally bent to the side. In a loud, static-covered voice, Alastor hissed, “Don’t tell me you drank from Lucifer.”

His dark tendrils looped around your neck, pulling suffocatingly tight. You bent your arms upward, reaching for the shadows with your bound hands, but every time you tried to touch them, your fingers passed right through them. Saliva ran down your chin as you gurgled, and after the second time of this, you were starting to think Alastor was developing a rather unhealthy kink.

“Can’t…say anything…when you’re choking me—mm!”

Alastor rubbed his tip into your mouth, completely cutting off your words along with the rest of your oxygen. He pushed your head forward, the bell around your neck chimed, and you felt his head go down as far as the back of your palate before pulling away again. Your vision grew spotty as he continued to suffocate you, your eyes rolling back into your head. Pushing you to the edge of asphyxiation, Alastor relinquished his shadowy hands around your throat in order to shove his dick down it instead.

Your throat squelched as he fucked your face, the pure force of his thrusts crushing you nose each time. Blood and snot ran down your face as you struggled for air, hot tears running down your cheeks all the while. Alastor’s ragged breathing was accompanied by a wide-eyed stare of doom—he stared you down with no sympathy whatsoever.

As fucked up as this all was, you felt you core throb and squeeze.

“Yes, that’s right, pet,” he growled. “I’m sure you’re starting to remember who owns you now.”

You whimpered on his dick, nodding your head as best as you could. He slammed his hips into your face one last time, pumping hot loads of semen down your throat so forcefully, some of it backed up and trickled down your nose. When his cock fell from your lips, you eagerly moaned, “Alastor.”

His eyebrows furrowed, his smile growing wider. “Beg.”

“Alastor, please,” you said quickly. “I missed you so much.”

“Is that so?”

“Please,” you whimpered, leaning your head forward and placing your nose against his pulsating cock. “I love you, Al.”

“Apologize. Do it convincingly this time.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Al. I promise, I’m yours.”

“Mine?”

“All yours,” you moaned, pressing a dark-colored kiss to the base of his cock. “I’m sorry for letting Lucifer use your holes. You can use whichever one you’d like to punish me.”

“Hm. An appealing offer.”

“Use all of them at the same time if you want. You can do whatever you want to me, Alastor.”

“That sounds about right. Up you go.”

Alastor lifted you to your feet with his shadow magic, leering down at you with hungry eyes. He curled a hand into your ass, squeezing before giving you an encouraging smack.

“Turn around and bend over.”

summary: wall maria is recovered. your comrades dwinded from two hundred to ten. in lieu of this, levi doesn't waste your time. themes: "god am i glad you're not dead" sex, light angst and comfort, fluff and smut, light humor word count: 2.3k | ao3 ver ♡ (one of author's personal favorites)

Retaking Wall Maria had dealt the Scout Regiment a devastating blow. Over two hundred soldiers had been reduced to ten, but at the end of it all, humanity had prevailed. Shiganshina was recovered, buried secrets had come to light, and for the first time in what felt like ages, humanity was capable of fighting back. That was what mattered to the masses, sparked a sense of bleeding nationalism, and founded epics that would be shared amongst tavern-goers for years to come.

But that wasn’t what mattered to men like Levi Ackerman and your father. Over two hundred soldiers had died brutal, excruciating deaths in service to their country, but you weren’t one of them.

Your adoptive father was nearly a foot taller than him, but when he heard the news, he fell to his knees before Levi and cried.

“You kept your promise,” the middle-aged man sobbed. “Thank you.”

Levi’s fingers curled surely into your father’s forearms. As he recalled the panic that had consumed him in Shiganshina, the fear that had burned like bile at the back of his throat when the Colossal Titan appeared on your side of the wall, he slowly shook his head.

“Don’t thank me,” he said quietly. “I was separated from her for a long time. The only reason that she survived is her own strength.”

“My girl is strong,” the older man whispered, his voice hoarse. “But when she’s fighting for the right to be with you, Levi, she’s damn near invincible.”

Chills crept down Levi’s spine as the older man’s words settled in on him. Slowly, Levi lowered himself onto the ground as well, going from the figure towering over your father to the man inclining his head in respect for him. Fist pressed to the left side of his chest in a heartfelt salute, Levi closed his eyes amidst the turbulent emotions spiraling within himself. Perhaps out of shock, when the older man realized what was occurring, he didn’t speak a word.

Levi knew that being a soldier was often a thankless job. Maybe because they weren’t the most eloquent; or maybe because, for a long time, they hadn’t deserved it. Or maybe the real reason was far simpler—they weren’t legends or gods. Soldiers were as human as everyone else, even the ones stuck with the conflated label of “strongest”.

Levi’s arm trembled.

“Don’t thank me,” he repeated, his voice cracking. “I thought I was going to lose her.”

Without another word, your father circled his arms around Levi. As the older man rubbed his hand up and down Levi’s back, for the first time in a long time, Levi cried.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I made you a promise, but this time, I couldn’t protect her.”

“It’s okay, Levi. At the end of the day, both you and my daughter came home. That’s all that matters to me in the end.”

You slowly lifted your hand to Levi’s face before gingerly pressing your palm to his cheek. You stroked your thumb across his cheekbone as you observed him, your eyes flicking to his puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Quietly, you brought a second hand to his face, cradling him under your touch as you smiled.

“I thought we had prepared for this,” you said, smiling regretfully. “Don’t tell me these tears are for me.”

Levi didn’t answer. He curled his arm around your hips, staring down at the lower part of your face as you continued to caress him. You weren't unused to the silence, but the clear strain you had placed on his heart was making your own cry out in pain.

You leaned forward. The first was a butterfly kiss. The second one lasted. And on the third, he pulled your body crushingly close before he desperately mashed his mouth to yours.

This wasn’t a kiss. It was a prayer.

“Don’t leave me,” he said breathlessly. “Don’t you ever fucking leave me.”

“Oh, Levi. You know I’m not going anywhere.”

Red blanketed his cheeks, stretching across his face from ear-to-ear. Metallic-colored eyes were glued to your own, and within the comfort of his loving gaze, you smiled.

“I’m here,” you murmured. “You see me, don’t you? Feel me?”

Levi hugged you even tighter. “I do. But this all feels like one bad fucking dream.”

“If your bad dreams end with me alive in your arms, then are they really all that bad?”

Slowly, quietly, he shook his head.

“You’re right. The result’s all that matters.”

“Right. We made each other a promise, and I don’t intend on breaking it.”

“Me neither.” He reassured his grasp on you, sliding his fingers into the hair along the back of your head. In a softer voice, he repeated, “Me neither.”

You smiled tenderly.

“I love you more than anything, you know?”

Instead of answering, Levi brought your mouth back to his.

A long time ago, You had told him there was no point in being chaste with one another.

“I just think it’s a waste. None of us know when our last day is gonna be until we’re facing death head-on. Why waste time that we may not ever get again?”

He hated when you spoke like that, but he was pragmatic at heart. He wasn’t one for omens and fickle mottos, but every time he experienced the bone-chilling fear of losing you, he was grateful that you had made him embrace it. Live every day like it was your last, and love each other like you’d never get to do it again.

Levi could have protested the fact that it was your parents’ house. He could have argued about how your uber-religious father disliked the idea of Levi spending the night under their roof while you remained unmarried, or how your mother was the one to advocate for Levi’s right to stay with you. He could have told you that it was only out of obligation that your father acquiesced; that if they hadn’t all nearly died, he’d be spending the night in an inn; that fucking you into the mattress on top of it all was a huge disrespect to the man and woman who had raised you.

But how could he, when for all he knew, this could have been their last time?

His fingers curled surely around your shoulder as he panted raggedly behind you. With a sharp, powerful snap of his hips, he stuffed you full of him. Your slick walls pulsated around him as he slowly drew backwards, and when he thrust into you again, you released a moan into the pillow beneath you. Slowly, but certainly not gently, Levi repeatedly carved his hips into yours, his eyes focused on the tremble of your ass every time that his base met your own. Licking his dry, hungry lips, Levi’s hand stroked over the shape of your ass before his fingers groped into it.

With a gentle push, he stared at the dark ring of flesh surrounding your other, empty hole. Glancing upwards, he observed the deep red color that had settled into the back of your neck and ears, and with another look back downwards, Levi’s breath shuddered.

He brought his thumb to his mouth, coating it with a sopping amount of spit. Pressing the pad of his finger to the hole between your cheeks, Levi watched adoringly as your whole body squirmed.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, your fingers clawing into the pillow beneath you, toes curling against his calves. “Levi.”

He curled his thumb further forward, feeling along the smooth ridges of that lined your rim as he continued to fuck your squelching cunt. You babbled meaningless words and disjointed sentences, your whole body twitching sporadically as you begged him to continue. Your whines thickened the hot air surrounding him, to the point where he almost felt like he was suffocating.

“‘m gonna cum,” you sobbed. “That feels so good, Levi.”

He let out a hot breath of air. “You’re gonna cum from my thumb in your ass?”

You didn’t answer coherently—you moaned nonsense. As your hips visibly twitched, he felt your insides grow hotter, wetter. It was sticky when his hips pressed into you, connecting his pelvis to your ass with multiple stringy trails of slick and cum.

Levi blinked. “Guess that’s interesting.”

“You bastard,” you groaned. “Your thumb’s in my ass, but you’re also fucking the shit out of me. Don’t make it sound like I’m some kind of deviant.”

“Dunno, brat. Not sure that I’ve gotten this strong of a reaction out of you before.”

“…What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, really. Just that you might be filthier than I thought.”

“Oh, yeah?” you murmured breathily. “If that’s what you think, Levy, then why don’t you clean me up?”

He reached over you, slotting his hands behind your armpits and pulling you into a kneeling position. Kneeling similarly behind you, Levi pressed his face into the crook of your neck, running his tongue along the sweet trail of skin that led up to your earlobe. He had somehow stayed buried inside you despite all of your movement, continuing to grind up his hips against yours as he bit the rim of your ear.

“I don’t want to clean you,” he whispered, letting his tongue flick against the folds of your ear. “I want you to stay just like this.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “Do you, now?”

“Yeah.”

Reaching down, he directed himself out of you. Coated thoroughly in both your fluids and his own, Levi dragged his twitching tip from one hole to the next.

He heard your breath hitch. Pressing forward only slightly, he asked, “This is what you wanted, right?”

You reached backwards to grasp his hair in your fist. Biting your lip, you eagerly nodded.

Levi pushed forward. Your ass stretched around him, and when he delved all the way inside, he marveled at the foreign sensation. It was similar to your cunt—hot and tight—but it also seemed to stretch on forever. There was no narrowing towards his tip, just squishy, wet walls that allowed him to comfortably fuck you balls-deep again, again, and again.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, your eyes rolling backwards. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice breathy. “Feels good for me, too.”

Your eyes fell shut, your brows arched across your forehead. Levi watched your expression twitch with each smack of his hips to your own, heat settling in the back of his ears as his own pleasure amplified because of it. Reaching down between your legs, he pressed his thumb and forefinger around your slippery clit with a firm pinch.

The sound you made could only be described as music to his ears. His dick spasmed within you, harsh and repeated throbs warning him that he was soon approaching his limit. Closing his eyes, Levi buried his face into your perfumed neck and groaned.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your neck. “Fucking take it.”

You gasped in short, repeated bursts. Your head nodded up and down so adamantly as you whined and sputtered his name, he worried for a moment that you might give yourself whiplash. Still, he continued to rub you between his fingers, buck his hips into your own, and speak to you in guttural, encouraging moans as he stuffed you full.

“Should have done this in your pussy,” he groaned. “Could’ve pumped a brat into you.”

“Levi,” you bawled.

“Fucking love you. Fucking love it when you take my cum.”

“Levi.”

“Ah, fuck,” he drawled, his breath growing shorter. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you wailed. “Levy, I want it.”

“Mm.” A sharp breath from his nose. “That’s a good girl.”

You went out sobbing. Levi felt along your cunt, feeling the hot spurts of your own ejaculation into his palm as he curled his fingers into your silty hole. He palmed your clit as he dug inside of you, rubbing like he was milking you the cum right out of you. Digging his teeth into your shoulder, Levi snapped his hips forward once more before feeling the powerful rush of incoming orgasm.

“Nnf.” His brows furrowed. Swirling his tongue across your skin, he repeated, “Nn.”

Shit, he was cumming hard. He really should have just shoved himself up your cunt at the last second there—should have made you take his hot seed into your empty womb. Maybe it would’ve taken, and maybe in nine months’ time, you would have pushed out a brat that looked just like you.

You laughed. “I thought you said no babies while we’re still fighting.”

Levi winced. Had he said all that embarrassing shit out loud without realizing it? “Your stupidity must be rubbing off on me.”

“Hehe…I think this is a problem of your own making, Levi.”

“Whatever.” He squeezed your hip. “Taking it up your ass felt good, huh? You little fuckin’ squirter.”

“P-please don’t bring that up,” you replied, smiling tensely. “But, yeah…it felt a lot better than I thought it would. What about you?”

“Same thing. It’s got all the perks of your cunt, minus the risk of knocking you up. Might be a new favorite of mine.”

“Hm…somehow, I’m a bit offended.” You smirked. “It feels more romantic when we do it normally.”

“Hah? The fuck does that even mean?”

You giggled and Levi raised an eyebrow. When you failed to elaborate, he rolled his eyes.

“Come on,” he said, stroking your lower belly. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

“Thought you didn’t wanna clean me.”

“That was before you squirted all over my hand.”

“H-hey! I thought I asked you not to bring that up!”

“It’s all over your thighs too,” Levi purred into your ear. “Your squirt.”

“C-can we just get cleaned up?!”

“Uh-huh,” he answered. “I’ll get all this squirt off you, brat.”

When you jabbed your elbow into his stomach, Levi only chuckled.

summary: your husband alastor promised to always provide you with blood in exchange for your undying loyalty. only problem is now he's a prisoner of the vees and your bloodlust is spiraling out of control. lucifer makes you an offer you can hardly refuse. themes: infidelity, revenge sex, power dynamic shifts, vampire!reader, fallen!reader, sexually repressed lucifer, canon-adjacent word count: 384 ♡ (one of author's personal favorites)

As he waited for you, Lucifer began to feel incredibly nervous.

“It’s not a big deal, right?” he mumbled, fiddling with a rubber duck as he tried to relax into the couch. “Just gonna give her a little blood. What’s so nerve-wracking about that?”

He laughed, but the thrumming of his heart spoke otherwise. Something about the sound of shower water and your earlier instructions had him feeling like this was weirdly similar to something of an entirely different nature. He had fully expected you to go all vampire on him right where he found you, but you insisted that you needed to properly clean up and get him “relaxed”. Whatever that meant.

“Relax. Relax. She said to relax.”

Squeak, squeak, squeak. His rubber duck basically was agreeing with each squeeze. Basically.

“There’s nothing weird or wrong about this, right? I mean, she said the best place for it would be in bed, which is kinda weird, but I’m not a vampire, so what do I know? And it’s totally not cheating on Lillith, right? ‘Cause it’s just blood!”

He rapidly shook his duck up and down, convincing himself that the yellow avian was nodding in assent. Letting out a reassured sigh, he leaned back with his legs spread wide, smiling up at the ceiling. Like a mantra, he repeatedly told himself that there was nothing to worry about and that this would all be over soon.

All too suddenly, Lucifer realized that he was sitting in silence. You must have turned off the shower.

Quickly uprighting himself, he turned his eyes towards the bathroom door. His mouth felt awfully dry as he waited for his fellow ex-angel to emerge.

Click.

Steam poured out from the door, as did a soft yellow light. You stepped one bare foot out, then another.

Lucifer’s face filled with warmth when he realized you were wearing nothing more than a black slip. Your dark hair fell over your blood-colored eyes, and when your full black lips moved, he almost felt entranced.

“Are you ready, Luci?”

He was nodding before he even realized, his jaw fixed in a dropped position. Distractedly, he replied, “Uh-huh.”

“Okay. Come with me.”

You offered him your hand, just as he had done to you before. Swallowing hard, Lucifer placed his hand in yours.

summary: all satoru ever wanted was for you to love him. you're trying. you really are. themes: angst, binding vows, unrequited love, marriage of convenience, explorations of duty and filial piety, might expand later word count: 890

Gojo Satoru was the strongest. Everyone in jujutsu society knew this to be fact—but they didn’t know him as well as you did.

You stroked the back of his hand, which was interlocked with his other across your lap. He held you tightly to his chest, his face buried into the crook of your neck as you sat entwined with one another. You caressed him, and wetness spread through the shoulder of your blouse.

“Tell me you love me,” he rasped out. “Please.”

“I love you, Satoru.”

He squeezed you even harder, shaking his head. In a pitiful mutter, he said, “That didn’t make me feel any better.”

A twinge of guilt pierced through your chest. You stared down at the rug underneath you, taking note of the coffee stain that never came out; the stain you had created, apologized profusely for, and at Satoru’s insistence, eventually stopped trying to efface. You kept your mind turning, thinking, dissociating. Anything to avoid the bitter reality of your relationship.

“Now,” says to you an elderly woman with pale, sagging skin, “this vow shall be inscribed into your skin. Let it serve as a permanent reminder of your place.”

The vow was made between your parents and the Gojo Clan and before you were old enough to comprehend the meaning. Servitude, loyalty, six spawn to inherit your shared abilities—the words were burned into your back in ink. You had accepted this long ago, but you never realized just how much it would torment him.

You didn’t like hurting him like this, being unable to provide exactly what he desired. The ink burns. You especially hated making him cry.

The ink is a permanent reminder of your place.

You licked your dry lips.

“I love you,” you repeated. “You don’t believe me?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

“I think you’re just saying what I want to hear.”

“But…you asked, Satoru.”

“I know.”

Silence fell between you. Ordinarily, you would have relaxed into a rare moment of quiet like this, but when it was accompanied by Satoru, it gave you chills. It just wasn’t right for him to be keeping his mouth shut. You would have much rather had him lauding you with idle chatter or being a nuisance instead.

“I’m sorry,” you said eventually. “I really am, Satoru. I’ll try harder—.”

“You shouldn’t have to try, cutie. It shouldn’t feel like trying.”

Your lips clamped shut. You swallowed back your own spit, feeling a nervous pit begin to form in the base of your throat. Your hands massaged his repeatedly as guilt snuck up your arms and into your chest, eventually bathing you from head to toe.

“It’s just not fair, cutie. I’d do anything if it meant you’d really love me. Anything.”

You didn’t doubt his words, which chilled you to the bone. After all, what wasn’t Gojo Satoru capable of? That list must have been infinitesimally small.

“I do love you,” you repeated. “I just…don’t know how to love you the way that you want me to. I’ve always felt something here for you, but you won’t accept it.”

You touched your palm to your chest, right over your beating heart. Satoru moved his head to observe, then placed his hand over yours, grasping tightly. His pink lips were pressed flat.

“It’s okay,” he said, sighing. “Don’t force it.”

“But I’m n—.”

“Don’t,” he said sternly, “force it.”

Your lips fell shut. Satoru pressed a firm kiss to your temple, whispering an apology against your skin. Lacing your fingers together, he continued to hold you quietly, like a child with his stuffed bear after a bad dream. His face returned to the crook of your neck, but this time your skin remained dry.

“I love you,” Satoru whispered. “I love you so much that I kinda hate myself for it.”

You frowned, feeling a hot, uncomfortable pressure form behind your eyes. It welled beneath your eyelids, pooling, until it rolled down your cheeks in hot rivulets. You gripped his hands hard, sniffling petulantly when your nose started to run.

Satoru straightened up sharply. He placed his hand to your face, turning it back slightly to look at his. Your wet eyes met his red and dry ones, the latter of which were widened in surprise.

“Cutie,” he said breathily.

“Why would you say something like that?” you answered hoarsely. “It’s not like I want to hurt you, Satoru. I want to be the partner you want me to be. I really do.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, wiping at your tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry.”

“You hurt my feelings.”

“I’m so sorry. Hey, come here.”

He brought your lips together, giving you a tender, chaste kiss. Your shoulders trembled with sobs, but you kissed him back with a hunger you hadn’t felt in years.

From there, everything moved so quickly that it sent your head spinning. Satoru’s tongue was in your mouth, his warm hands were under your shirt, and you were rubbing your hips against that familiar, aching hardness. Even if you couldn’t love him how he wanted, even if he couldn’t accept your feelings for him as they were, you never had a shred of conflict when it came to physical intimacy.

Perhaps that was why you both defaulted to it in heated moments; no matter how empty you may have felt afterwards.

summary: the gojo clan considers you a blight on satoru's career. as such, they demand you choose an arranged marriage partner. due to your binding vow of loyalty, you concede, but the man you choose is not who you think he is. themes: misogyny, forceful sex, dubcon, sexual abuse, virgin!reader, extremely toxic relationship (!!!) word count: 2k+ ♡ (one of author's personal favorites) | pls read disclaimer at the end

You were used to being obedient.

“Wanna talk back to me, huh? You’re lucky you’re so nice to look at, otherwise I’d bash your nose in next.”

You winced when Naoya’s pressure against your back grew stronger, crushing your cheek against the wall as he kept you pinned there against your will. He painfully twisted your arm behind your back as he intensified his hold on you, his nose brushing against the rim of your ear. He audibly inhaled as he ran his face along the length of your neck, letting out a pleased sound when he returned to a standing position. You felt his hand grasp the inner aspect of your thigh, forcing you to part your legs as his fingers dug painfully into your pliant flesh. You kept your lips sealed all the while, focused on the wall across from you instead of your current situation.

“You can try and defend him all you like,” Naoya purred, his silken voice slithering around your brain like a viper, “but at the end of the day, it’s my seed you swallow. I’m the one who conquered you, so it’s my heir you’ll carry. You’re a fool if you think that Satoru actually cared about you, and not just your womb.”

It was better if you didn’t argue. It was safer if you kept your tongue to yourself. It was logical to let Naoya have what he wanted and to not put up a fight.

Your fingers twitched anyway.

“You’re joking," he purred. "You aren’t seriously going to hit me, are you?”

Your upper lip furled as violence and anger filled your chest.

“Oh, so you wanna play that way, huh?" he snapped, grinning from ear-to-ear. "C’mon then, bitch—let’s play.”

You knew you couldn’t overpower him, but you had to try.

“You fucking cunt,” Naoya spat, his hands wrapped around your neck like an iron collar. “You just like being disciplined, don’t you?”

You couldn’t breathe. You gasped hopelessly for air as you clawed at his fingers, your body jerking violently across the bed with each of Naoya’s forceful thrusts. He fucked you with no regards for you as a woman, using you like a toy to do with whatever he wished. Your back arched, your feet flailed, snot and tears mixed together running down your face, but Naoya would not let up. Not when you had insulted him with the claw-like lashes you had ripped into his cheek, from where you had struck him so hard, his whole body had staggered from the impact.

“You’re a stupid bitch. The Gojos said you were a good girl, that you knew how to listen. Those fucking liars.”

“I…” you choked out. “I do know…how to listen…”

He removed his hands from your windpipe, you gulped air into your screaming lungs, then Naoya struck your cheek with a flat palm, the expression in his eyes absolutely livid.

“You’re trying to mock me, aren’t you?” he seethed. “Just because I like that face of yours doesn’t mean I’m not willing to rearrange it.”

He said that, and yet he chose to strike you in a way that was bound to leave no scar. Naoya was always strange like that—he only ever left marks where they could be hidden behind layers of clothing. Perhaps it was due to his pride, the desire to show off his wife as the perfect trophy, to have the envy of other men fall upon him. Whatever the purpose was, you knew you could always use your face to your benefit.

“I listened when they told me to marry you,” you said, your voice hoarse from all the choking. “I had the world at my fingertips, but I listened to them and ended up with you.”

He looked shocked for only a moment. Holding eye contact, Naoya’s grip on you grew crushingly tight. As though he was determined to destroy your pelvis between his palms, he sneered and pushed your body down harder into the mattress.

“I don’t give a shit if you want me or not. The only thing I want from you is a son.”

“If that’s what you want, I will give you one. Just be prepared for him to have my eyes.”

For some reason, Naoya seemed to deflate. He glared as you compliantly folded your legs midair, pulling your knees back to allow him deeper access. Watching his face still, you inclined your head, your lips pursed.

“I don’t leave anything unfinished, Naoya. Do you?”

“...Fuck this.”

He aggressively grabbed your chin, turning it up before his mouth smashed against yours. The grinding of his hips grew deeper, more desperate as he jammed his hot tongue down your throat. You lightly placed your hand to the back of his neck, running your thumb along his soft and silky nape as you devoured him back. Though you couldn’t see eye to eye with Naoya on a number of subjects, here, he had to admit that you were both equals.

“Fuck,” he moaned between kisses. “Take it all, honey.”

With a soft pant, you did.

Naoya was a hypocritical man.

“Beg me for it.”

A surprising request from the man who “didn’t care” whether or not you wanted him. Waving your hips back and forth as enticingly as you knew how, you turned your gaze backwards to find Naoya staring, his cock held in his fist. He had a smug smirk on, per usual, but even he seemed to realize the vulnerability he displayed with his words.

Not that you had the room to dwell on these things, or even to care. Pulling one of your ass cheeks aside with your cold fingers, you softly murmured, “Please.”

Naoya laughed.

“Good girl.”

He was a cocky man. Even if he demanded complacency and obedience, he still wanted to be lauded with praise by those he despised. Perhaps if he ever realized it, he might be capable of change.

“I want to hear you moan and squeal like a bitch,” he growled, the sound of his hips against hers reverberating through the room. “I know this is the best dick you’ve ever had.”

Your hands curled up into fists.

“It’s…the only one…”

“Hah?”

“It’s…the only one I’ve ever had.”

You felt an embarrassed heat spread through your face, though you weren't sure why. Naoya was uncharacteristically quiet behind you, and you were almost tempted to chance a look back at him. He continued to fuck you like nothing had changed, but the hold he had on your waist tightened.

“...You really are a good wife, saving yourself for me like this. It’s no wonder you’re so fucking tight.”

Naoya’s hand slapped against your ass, sending a shocked yelp out from your lips. Heat flooded your face when Naoya laughed.

“Good girl, good girl. Speak a little more and I just might give you a treat.”

He talked to you like a dog. It was abhorrent, so why were your lips moving to his commands?

“Good, good. You want it right? Deep inside you, right?”

Yes, you did.

“Good fucking girl.”

The cry you let out filled you with shame. Naoya rutted against you as he came, his voice all brash insults and lewd compliments as he filled you with his semen yet again. Your breath grew short, your heart grew fast, and in the back of your mind, you were looking for a way out.

“Say thank you,” Naoya ordered.

You swallowed a hard lump down your throat.

“Thank you.”

He smacked your ass again, causing you to flinch. With no respect for your own needs and desires, he left you half-finished, not even bothering to give you a shred of aftercare. Naoya was off to the bathroom by himself, whistling a familiar tune as he set the shower water running.

You rolled over onto your side, absolutely breathless. Curling your hand into a fist over your chest, you tried your best to hold back a sniffle.

“Hey. Woman.”

You blinked when you heard Naoya call out to you. Slowly, you set yourself upright in the bed, your eyes meeting his from across the room. He gestured to the bathroom with his thumb.

“Get in.”

For the first time ever, Naoya held you.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, peeking over your head and down at your cellphone. “Stupid videos again?”

“Um…no. I’m just looking at my pictures.”

“Hm. Let me look at them too.”

“Sure.”

His arm, which he had casually laid across your waist, gave you an eerie feeling. It was too gentle for Naoya, who usually preferred to exert dominance through force. Instead, he pressed his knees into the backs of yours, properly holding you in bed like a husband would. His embrace was full of warmth that you did not think him capable of.

You tried to relax, but the goosebumps on the back of your neck remained. You scrolled through last year’s picture album, swiping past images of shrines, papers for jujutsu missions, and tons of selfies taken by Satoru without your consent. There were also candid shots of yourself, once again taken by the limitless technique user, as well as photos of the both of you together. You hadn’t realized just how many of your memories were dedicated to Satoru.

“...What gives? Why’d the Gojo Clan send you to the Zen’in Clan?”

You didn’t sense any malice from his question. Just pure curiosity.

“Satoru gets too distracted by me. The elders were worried he’d lose sight of his true purpose if I stayed around any longer, so they gave me a choice.”

“A choice.”

“...Yes. I was told to either provide the Zen’in Clan with a bride, or be married off to one of the minor families instead.”

“And you chose the Zen’in Clan.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

You could hear the mirth in his voice. He was surely smiling behind you, and even if it was out of mockery, it made him feel softer. You swiped to the right in your photo library, displaying to both of them a picture of Naoya wearing his typical shit-eating grin.

Your thumb hovered over it. When you spoke, your voice felt small.

“I just thought…that you were handsome.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Y-yes. The other marriage candidates were alright, but you…you are admittedly a fine man.”

Naoya began to laugh, quiet at first, then louder. His laughter made you blush like a child, embarrassed, nervous, and still unsettled by the whole ordeal. He reached up for your chin, turning your face back towards his as he continued to laugh. Your lips parted to apologize, but his mouth was on yours before you could even think to say anything.

“So you thought I was hot. But now you’re regretting it, right? After all, I treat you like the woman you are.”

You shook your head.

“I don’t regret anything. Regardless of how you treat me…when your mouth is closed, you are quite handsome.”

Naoya laughed again, leaning his head back as it boomed through the room. Nearly breathless from how hard he was giggling, Naoya said, “You really don’t care what happens to you, do you?”

“I’ll accept you for who you are. If you feel that I need punishment, I won’t object.”

“Ha…you talk a lot with me, but you keep your mouth shut when it counts. It’s a shame…I’m almost starting to like that bite of yours.”

He kissed you again, surprising you, who had expected something far rougher. He turned your cellphone off before tossing it aside, and with a slight shift up the mattress, leaned back down for another wet kiss. Your fingers curled up against his chest, your body twisted towards him uncomfortably, but your eyes fell shut in content.

“Mm. You are a pretty girl, and far more obedient than most women these days. I think I can work with you.”

He fell back down onto his side behind you, nudging ever so closer to your back. You relaxed again, trying to quell the pounding of your own heart.

“Get some rest, honey. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Quietly, you nodded.

summary: bratty reader gets backshots on the roof while ange wrecks lumiose. themes: 3rd-person storytelling, popstar!reader, humor and light smut, corbeau is so done with you™, it came to me in a vision word count: 831 ♡ (author's personal favorite)

At the end of the world, some might say her priorities were questionable. Sure, they had to save Kalos and all, but there was hardly anything wrong with taking advantage of a fun situation, was there?

“You okay, Miss Kalos? You’re not scared of heights are you?”

The young trainer known as Paxton extended his hand towards her, but she quickly waved him off.

“No, no, I’m fine! I’m afraid I won’t be able to accompany you the rest of the way, so I just wanted a chance to see you off! Go on, now! Save your friend!”

He looked conflicted at first, but subsequently gave her a determined nod. Running off towards the ruin surrounding Prism Tower, Paxton was finally out of sight.

She could feel Corbeau’s shoulders beneath her palms, his whole body trembling as he and the fifteen other grunts attempted to keep her balanced atop of them. Her high heels caught onto the building, effectively boosting her up to the roof as she pushed off of Corbeau’s shoulders. When she turned to face him, she could see his strained, pissed expression.

“What the fuck do you think this is?! A game?!” he barked. “Do you know how hard I’ve been trying to keep you from falling?!”

“Falling? Falling, huh…”

Pretending to be clumsy, she turned her back to them, stumbling towards the edge of the roof. Grinning over at Corbeau, she purred, “Oops.”

She went plummeting towards the ground, her Rotom phone activating just in time to catch her and assist her to a safe landing. Laughing, she clapped her hands together as she observed the human ladder was still intact.

“Sorry, Corby!” she shouted, her hand cupped near her mouth. “I promise I won’t fall again!”

“Just shut up and climb already!” he barked, his voice barely audible over the howling winds.

She grinned slyly.

“Oops.”

“Oh no, I fell!”

“Silly me, I can’t seem to stay on the roof!”

“Merde!” Corbeau barked, feeling her grab onto his shoulders for the fifth time that night. “If you fall one more time, you’re staying on the ground where you belong!”

“Oh, don’t be such a drag, Corby. All your subordinates have loved it! Isn’t that right, guys?”

“Yes! I’d do anything for you, Mademoiselle!”

“Please, step on me again, Mademoiselle! I-I mean, if you have to!”

“I’ll be your ladder whenever you want, Mademoiselle!”

“See?” she chirped, bringing her cheek close to his. “And I’m sure you’ll like it too. Just give me a second to get up…”

He winced when she stepped on his shoulder to boost herself up, but the sight she offered him sent his eyes wide open again.

“Oops!” she said, waving her ass around as she stood on her hands and knees. “Corby, I tripped!”

Heat rushed to his face when he saw her panties underneath the flapping hem of her skirt, and she continued to wave her hips around like a treat in front of a dog. When she turned her head, she gave him the most knowing grin that he had ever seen. Popping her eyebrows, she subtly wiggled her hips up and down, her ass bouncing with the motion.

“If only I had a big strong man to help me up,” she purred.

He logically shouldn’t have had the strength to do it, but he pulled himself up that damn roof anyway.

“The world’s about to fucking end,” Corbeau growled into her ear, “and you want backshots?”

She laughed. “You say that and yet…you’re the one giving them to me, aren’t you, Corby?”

Face red, he buried it away into her cloud of soft hair as he moved desperately atop of her. Their fingers were intertwined on the cool metal of the rooftop, and the sounds of Rogue Mega Evolved Pokemon battling down below drowned out the clapping of their skin. He prayed that no one would notice, lest they both be forced to explain where their true priorities lay in a crisis.

“It’s your fault,” he grumbled, his cheeks burning. “You can’t just wave your ass around in my face and expect me not to fuck you.”

“Hehe, isn’t that true, Beau…”

They fell silent, letting their hot breaths do the rest of the talking as he continued to thrust in and out of her. Prism Tower continued to sway from the power of Ange, and a powerful accumulation of light began to form at the peak of the structure. If that energy were to successfully fire off, who knew what kind of devastation might fall upon Lumiose?

“If I’m gonna go out,” Corbeau whispered, “this wouldn’t be a bad way to spend my last moments. Buried deep inside my favorite songbird.”

He bit her earlobe, feeling her body shudder beneath him. Nodding her head, she grasped his hands tighter.

“Je t’aime, Corby,” she panted. “Do me a favor and cum inside before we die, yeah?”

He snorted.

“Who am I to refuse you, ma cherie?”

summary: Alhaitham had little interest in getting to know others. He hated small talk, despised the “getting-to-know-you” phase. It was strange, then, that he was was the one to ask you out for a drink. themes: fluff and eventual smut, autism impacting social understandings, confessions of love, vahumana!reader word count: 319

Alhaitham had never so much as considered the possibility of a relationship until a Vahumana scholar looked him in the eyes and told him she was enamored.

Placing his soundproof earpieces on, Alhaitham took a glance at his music player. Scrolling through the list, he saw song after song, letting the titles flit past his eyes as he absentmindedly searched for a favorite.

♫ Love in the air - (2:00) ♫ Come back to me - (2:35) ♫ My light, my darkness - (3:30)

He paused, thumb hovering over the phone screen. How strange, that nearly every vocalist thought to settle on love as a topic. Even stranger was how pleasing he found said songs, even if he lacked the capability to relate. Were relationships really so common, so heartwrenching and awe-inspiring, that Sumeru’s poets were as entangled with them as its scholars were with their studies?

Well. What did it matter? Love was not something that Alhaitham cared for, neither positively nor negatively. If it hadn’t been for her, the thought would have never even crossed his mind.

♫ Now playing: Ocean-Eyed Lover - (3:23)

She’s got eyes like the ocean, hands like the sea…

“...Eyes like the ocean, huh?”

Immediately after speaking, he fell quiet. The girl from yesterday came to mind, with her deep eyes and her voice, softer than the morning tides. It was objective that her features were fair, but what did that matter to him? He had never stopped to perceive another in such a way.

Did she perceive him in such a way?

With a sigh, Alhaitham leaned against his fist, turning his pensive eyes to the library window. As raindrops pelted the floor-to-ceiling glass, he focused on the natural phenomena, praying his mind would cease to run amok.

What constitutes ‘love’ anyway?

He pressed his eyes closed. For the first time in a long time, the Haravatat scholar was thoroughly stumped.

summary: cola flavored pocky is back in stock. satoru thinks its important to make you aware of that. themes: food play, pocky kisses, dick so good i cried™, cringe satoru jokes, aftercare, fluff and smut, light humor word count: 3.3k | ao3 link ♡ (one of author's personal favorites) | aint gonna lie feel like i cooked with this one

The soft clicking of mechanical keyboards filled the room, the sole accompaniment to the sustained silence.

Of course, peace never lasted long.

Bam!

“Hey, hey, hey! Guess what I got!”

Satoru, who had kicked the door open with as little regard for the people inside as possible, bounced on his heels before you with a white plastic bag. Your fingers hovered over your keyboard as a flash of irritation washed over you, but with a composed breath in and out, you relaxed once again. Turning back to your computer screen, you continued typing written instructions for the students’ next technical exam as you said, “Don’t be so loud, Satoru. Kento and I are working.”

“Nanamin’s here?! Ugh.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Kento said bluntly.

“Whatever, we’ll just work around him. Cutie, look—those limited edition cola pocky sticks are back! I know how much you love them, so I got you ten packs.”

Satoru shook the grocery bag by your ear, sending various sticks of carbohydrates plinking against their cardboard confines. Narrowing your eyes, you growled, “I don’t love them, you do. I’m seriously trying to work, Satoru.”

“Eh? But last time you ate the whole box with me!”

“Because you practically forced me to.”

“Yeah, yeah, you liar. You know you liked it.”

Satoru leaned down next to your ear, his grinning lips just a hair away from making contact. In a low murmur, his hot breath ghosted over your cheek. “How about you and I find a nice couch in the teacher’s lounge to share a few of these on? Hm?”

“Work—ing,” you replied with an emphasis on each syllable. “Also, you and I are not alone right now. Please stop embarrassing me.”

“Aw, Nanamin doesn’t care—.”

“I care a lot, actually. You’re extremely annoying.”

“Nobody asked you, Nanamin! Bleh!”

Like a child, Satoru stuck his tongue out at Kento, and your patience was at its limits.

“Sorry, Kento,” you said, rising to your feet and clutching Satoru’s collar in your fist. “I’ll drag this idiot out of here.”

“Yay, you’re getting pissy! You’re totes adorbs when you’re mad at me, you know?!”

“Shut up.”

“Oh!” he moaned dramatically. “Scold me more, cutie!”

With a red hot face, you shoved Satoru out of the work room before following after him.

Pocky was just Satoru’s way of hitting two birds with one stone.

“Remember when we were kids and I taught you how this works?” Satoru asked, grinning fondly as he tore the packet of candies open. “You didn’t realize that the whole point of it was so I could kiss you.”

“You don’t have to buy a packet of pocky sticks if you want to kiss me,” you grumbled. “The only reason I’m playing your stupid game is because I want you to leave as soon as possible. You’re only ten times more insufferable when I don’t indulge you.”

“Wha—?! How cold, cutie!” He gasped dramatically, slapping his hand over top of his heart. “I’d beg you to stop, but I get turned on when you’re mean to me.”

“I really hate you,” you hissed, pressing your eyes shut. “If you want to make out with me so bad, then just come here.”

“But…this is more fun! And I love the cola flavored ones!”

Satoru gave you his signature puppy-dog pout, sending warmth into your face. With a sigh, you gave in to him yet again.

Satoru always got the tip with coating on it. You took the bland side.

Snap!

“Shit,” Satoru mumbled through his mouthful of chocolate. “One more time.”

Snap!

“Again, again.”

Snap!

“Satoru,” you growled. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Whaaat? Now why would I do that?”

Before you could bring up a solid list of reasons that all involved wasting your time, Satoru shoved another pocky stick into your mouth. You glared at him in silence, lifting your chin for him to have access to the other end.

“Ah,” Satoru said, blinking down at you. “You’re so cute I wanna take a picture.”

“Mmf, mmf, mmf.” In other words, if you take a picture of me, you die.

Satoru just giggled. With an exaggerated ahh sound, he closed his lips around the sweet part of the pocky stick. Chewing like a hamster, his mouth descended bit by bit towards yours.

He didn’t fuck around this time.

“Mm.”

You were almost taken aback by the sensation of your lips finally meeting. Though you stiffened in shock at first, you quickly relaxed under him, lifting a hand to his face. Satoru’s mouth tasted like the various cola pocky he had already devoured, hot like a can of soda left out on a blazing summer day. As little as you cared for sweets, you had to admit that the flavor was quite pleasant on him.

Satoru broke away first. With a shit-eating grin, he popped his eyebrows up and down at you.

“Fuck work,” he crooned. “Let’s go home.”

Smoldering, you threw your gaze elsewhere.

“...This is stupid,” you muttered, “but fine.”

Cola-flavored pocky sticks weren’t the only goodies that Satoru had up his sleeve.

Shhhhhick. Shhhhick.

You laid atop the bed, consumed in a fiery blush from head to toe. You tried to ignore Satoru as he grinned like the bastard he was, flinching only slightly every time that the whipped cream touched you somewhere new. With every press of his finger to the nozzle of the can, a shhhick noise accompanied his perverse giggles.

Naturally, he had laid a thick coat of cream across your chest. Your nipples perked in response to the cold, fluffy sensation, and when you saw Satoru stare after them like an architect debating his new design, your legs instinctively squirmed.

“Ah, ah,” Satoru said, long fingers curling around the base of your knee. “Don’t move, cutie. I’m not done yet.”

He shook his hand up and down, filling the room with the sound of dairy flopping around in the compressed can. Walking his eyes down from your breasts to your stomach, Satoru’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“A little bit here,” he said, drawing a line straight down your midsection, “and a little bit there,” a thicker dollop straight in your belly button, “and we can’t forget here.”

His finger was pressed to the nozzle, but he didn’t depress it. You lifted your head to see what he possibly could have been so fixated on, only for him to shoot you a toothy grin.

Your heart skipped a beat. Satoru ran a finger along the outside of your vulva, but with a shocking amount of restraint, did not torture you with the inevitability of tomorrow’s yeast infection. Instead, he moved down to your thighs, purring, “Spread ‘em.”

Your legs moved before your brain could dictate it. Why were you so good at listening to this idiot?

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not gonna put anything near your pussy. I just like the view.”

Your brows furrowed, heart hammering in your chest. Embarrassed, you mumbled, “Are you just gonna stare at me like this?”

“Can’t a guy admire his work? Though you are missing the final touch…”

The pocky was back. Satoru leaned over you, holding the dry end of the stick over your lips. Coaxing you with his gleaming blue eyes, you hesitantly opened your mouth. When you closed your lips around it, holding it up in the air against your tongue and teeth, Satoru made that architect-face again.

“There you go,” he said, his eyes sliding up and down the length of your naked body. “That’s perfect, cutie. You look like a fucking treat.”

You had agreed to this, but that didn’t make you any less flustered. When the bed depressed around your hips from the weight of Satoru’s knees, your breath hitched, the pocky stick between your lips twitching up, then down. His hands touched you first, warm against your burning skin, and with a gentle caress down the curves of your waist, he walked himself down the length of the bed. You craned your head, Satoru bowed his, and after what felt like an eternity, his tongue pressed flat to your underbelly.

Hot, smooth, wet. Satoru licked his way up the trail of whipped cream he had adorned you with, sending chills down your spine as you watched him savor the taste. His eyes were closed at first, but when he lowered himself to your belly button, they opened to catch yours.

Your core throbbed with need. Still watching you, Satoru used his tongue like a shovel as he lapped at the sugar inside you. It was a strange sensation, having the tip of his tongue push against your navel like that, ticklish but stinging, as though your nerves rejected the notion. Satoru slathered his tongue up your torso again, leaving goosebumps in his wake, and with a cheeky wink, brought his lips to your areola.

Your leg instinctively drew upwards, your knee bent at his side. You tried to focus on keeping the pocky stick from melting in your mouth, to linger on the texture of it against your tongue—anything to distract yourself from the sensation of Satoru’s sucking lips against your sensitive nipple. Your fingers curled into the sheets as you hiked another leg up, framing him between them, and with an instinctive arch of your back, Satoru solidly pushed you back down.

He looked up at you before switching his mouth to his last source of saccharin: your coated, lonely second breast. Holding you in a curved grip, he closed his mouth around you like he wanted to inhale you whole; jaw open wide, tongue hanging out with hot spit dripping onto your skin from it. Staring at you with his incendiary blue eyes, Satoru descended towards your needy tit, letting out a childish, “Aaaaah.”

He was gentle first—just his tongue, just his lips, rubbing your nipple between them as he cleaned his mess off of you. It wasn’t until his free hand clamped down on your other breast with a claw-like grasp that you felt yourself arch into him again.

“M-mph.” Your voice was muffled by the pocky stick. Your saliva was softening the base, so you nibbled bit by bit to keep it from falling. While you tried to remain focused, Satoru massaged your other breast, pushing it upwards, downwards, in small circles as he went from kissing and sucking on you to being an asshole and biting.

Your hand flew to the back of his head, gripping a fistful of white hair. A shaky breath exhumed itself from your chest as he pinched one nipple, bit the other, and subsequently sent a hot rush of contractions through your slickening, greedy hole.

With an exaggerated, wet smacking sound, he tore his mouth from your puffy nipple. He gave you a smile that was curled up further at one end than the other.

“Good girl,” he said, his eyes trained on the pocky, erect in your mouth. “I always knew you were good with your lips.”

What a nuisance he was, but when he made you this wet with his idiocy, how were you any better than him?

“Give me a taste.”

Of course, he meant the pocky. Or so you thought, until he ripped it out your mouth and flung it across the room.

Satoru’s mouth hit yours like a crash landing. He caught your lower lip between his own, darting his tongue along it like your lips were studded with whipped cream. With a teasing bite of his teeth, he pulled your lip upwards as he withdrew his kiss, and with a loud moan, came diving back down for your mouth all over again.

He bucked his hips forward, grinding the dry crotch of his pants against your slick, barren cunt. He was hard through the leg of his trousers, stiff against you, and with an unsatisfied groan, you tugged impatiently at his belt.

“Mmn—ah,” Satoru said, like he had just taken a long swig of cola. “It’s not so stupid anymore, is it, cutie?”

“Take your pants off,” you whispered quickly, breathily. “Just take your fucking pants off.”

“Heh…maybe. If you admit that this is way better than grading papers.”

“Satoru.” You curled your hands around his belt and pulled.

“Come on, babe,” he purred, bumping you across the bed with sharp, slapping dry thrusts. “You gotta work a little with me here. You hurt my feelings earlier, you know?”

“You’re such an ass,” you whined, your voice higher-pitched than it normally was. “Take them off.”

Satoru laughed. Pressing a compliant kiss to your cheek, he reached down to his waist.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room. Its sole accompaniment was the steady hiss of an aerosolized can.

“Mm,” Satoru moaned. “A little more?”

As you were slowly coming to find out, whipped cream was not only incredibly sweet and quick to melt, but horribly sticky. Rivulets of it ran down the corners of your mouth, smeared Satoru’s face, but your sugar-obsessed boyfriend only seemed to get a rush from it. You winced when he brought the nozzle to your mouths again, but when you saw the kiddish joy on his face, you nodded.

Somewhat embarrassed, you let your tongue loll from your mouth. Satoru’s mouth curled up higher at one corner than the other, and with a playful glint in his eyes, he sprayed a sizable dollop onto the tip of your tongue.

Shhhhick.

Goddammit, it was already melting and running down your face again—.

“M-mmph.”

You let out a satisfied puff of air when Satoru’s lips closed around yours. He sucked at your lower lip, swiping his tongue across the dripping whipped cream with a deep, rumbling moan. A sweet frisson crawled through your cheeks as his husky voice reverberated against your skin.

Plap. Satoru’s thrusts were slow, controlled. A rare feat for a man that seemed like he was determined to fuck you straight through the mattress every time. Plap. Plap. Plap.

Your nails dug into his shoulder blades. When Satoru released your lips to suckle away at the melted streaks coating your jaw, you leaned your head back in an attempt to catch your breath.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” Satoru said, his teeth grazing at your chin, a tease of a bite. “You’re my sugar-sweet princess, aren’t you?”

Dread took a hold of you, but when Satoru’s dick slammed in so hard that you saw stars, you ceased caring.

“I am,” you whined, your fingers scraping at his back, his biceps.

“Yeah?” he answered, fucking you hard. Slow. Intentional. “Tell me, cutie. Tell me you’re my sugar-sweet matcha mochi fuckin’ princess.”

Idiot, idiot, you’re an idiot, Satoru—.

“I’m,” you breathed, “your sugar-sweet…matcha mochi…p-princess…”

“Nn, babe. Say the buttercup one.”

“I—,” your voice warbled, your rationality dwindling. Hot sparks of sensual heaven shot through your core like a beating pulse, beating to the pound of Satoru’s hips. “I’m…your buttercup fudge sundae.”

“With sprinkles,” Satoru groaned, his tongue lathing up the length of your attention-starved neck.

“W-with sprinkles,” you whined. “With sprinkles, Satoru.”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute, cutie.” Plap. Plap. Plap, plap, plap—. “I fuckin’ love you.”

You gasped when Satoru’s pace accelerated, your nails clawing into his back as searing sparks, shooting stars, and Satoru strangled your insides. Your body behaved on its own; your hole clenching in tight, rhythmic spams that made you feel like if he kept this up, Satoru I’m going to fucking lose it—.

“Why so fussy?” he asked, grinning crooked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were about to cream on me.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you blurted, your back arching, fingers clawing, breath leaving in succinct, staccato beats that damn near asphyxiated you. “I hate you, you—piece of shit—!”

A terribly, horribly embarrassing cry escaped you without your permission. You fisted his hair, pulling him down to your neck, forcing him not to look at you with those eyes as your waves of pleasure converged at one massive, tumultuous peak.

“I love you,” you whimpered, pure instinct as you bucked your hips up to meet his. “Satoru, I love you.”

“Nn, good job, cutie.” His voice was hot and wet against your sticky neck. “Mind if I cum, too?”

You shook your head, words stuck in your larynx as your eyes rolled towards the heavens. Satoru’s teeth sunk into the junction between your neck and your shoulder, biting hard enough to draw blood, to mark you as his in the way that only he could.

One big, dramatic snap of his hips. His dick, inside you, throbbing and twitching and filling you up. Those sparks were back, through your cunt, up your stomach, coming out of your mouth like a geyser of affection for Satoru.

“Satoru,” you whined again, tears beading at the corner of your eye. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” he answered immediately, gutturally. “I love you more than anything, cutie. You’re so good for me, you know? Fuckin’ sweeter than a cream pie.”

And just like that, the crest of your orgasm came crashing down pitifully hard. Clarity replaced your heightened sensitivity, and with burning ears, you barked, “You’re not funny at all!”

You slapped his back, but he just laughed, giggling into your neck as he exhaustedly laid atop of you. Glaring at the ceiling, you felt an embarrassed flush of heat creep into your face as your boyfriend nuzzled against you, cooing his sugary apologies as he laced his fingers between yours. Disgruntled, but not entirely displeased, you let out a huff.

“Don’t ever say that again.”

“Sorry,” he giggled. “But isn’t it funny? I’m pretty clever, no? No?”

“No,” you said flatly. “Also I’m sticky. Can you get off me so I can shower?”

“You mean so we can shower.” Satoru cupped your cheek before planting a wet kiss to the other. “I’ll clean you up real good, cutie, promise. You’ll hardly even have to lift a finger.”

“Is this you taking responsibility for lathering me in whipped cream or is it you trying to fuck me in the shower?”

Satoru let out a dramatic gasp. “How dare you! I’d never lie to my matcha mochi princess!”

Your ears smoldered. “Please don’t say that ever again.”

He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “But you totally got off on me saying it, cutie.”

“I said what I said. Now get off me. Please.”

Satoru chuckled. “Sure thing, babe.”

You wriggled out from under him, bare feet plodding against the oak-topped floor. As you made tracks for the bathroom, you could feel Satoru’s eyes on your back, watching, and no doubt admiring.

You gingerly touched the doorframe, swallowing back butterflies. Turning your face halfway, but certainly not looking at him, you asked, “Are you coming or not?”

“Ha! If my cutie requests it, then of course I am.”

Casually, he sauntered up to you, looking honest for once. He opened the bathroom door for you, gesturing inside like a dutiful attendant. Your eyes flit from his crescent-moon smile to the shower within. You could feel his body heat as you passed him, your arm subtly brushing against his naked torso.

When he smacked your ass, you only somewhat regretted inviting him.

“Sorry,” he purred. “You know how I get around cake.”

You whipped around and shut the bathroom door in his face. As he cackled behind it, you pressed your forehead into the white wood, feeling the vibrations of his laughter in the recesses of your mind.

“You’re so stupid,” you whispered, your hand pressing beside your cheek. “But for some reason, I love your stupidity.”

“Cutie, I promise I’ll be good!” Satoru called from the other side of the door, his words sporadically interrupted by little chortles. “No more puns. Just a normal shower, I promise.”

You didn’t believe him for a second, but out of undeniable love for the single most infuriating man of all time, you opened the door again anyway.

“I’ll be good,” Satoru repeated, curling his arm around your waist. As he led you to the shower, he leaned over to press a sweet kiss to your temple. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

With a warm face, you nodded.