ʚɞ Warnings: Fem!reader, Obsessive Behaviour, Pervy Geto, Stalking, Penetration (p In V), Doggystyle,

Viktor would 100% love you on top of him, but he would also enjoy rutting into you while you’re on top.

Imagine you both had a long day and needed to let off some steam, so you do your usual routine and you’re on top of him once again. You roll your hips slowly, carefully bouncing up and down on him.

Viktor’s eyes water at the sensation, whimpering at the feeling of you squeezing him. His eyes meet your own and you lean down to kiss him, losing momentum. Suddenly, you feel a thrust come upward from him, causing you to pull away from his lips as it caught you off guard. It felt great, but you worried it world put a strain on him. “Vik’, let me take care of you.”

He shakes his head, “need more..” he pulls you back down to his lips and begins thrusting into you at a quicker, yet deeper pace. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling. Viktor moans into your ear and lays kisses on your lobe, down your neck. You clench around him, signaling you’re close.

Viktor puts his hands on your hips, thrusting deeper than before causing you to moan louder, echoing through the room. “Cumming.. mmf..” Viktor’s grip on your hips slams you down once more, both of you cumming at the same time. You both lay, catching breaths for a moment.

Getting the strength back, you lean up to look at him. “That was different.” You say, chuckling. Viktor’s face flushed as he looked away from you, “s-sorry, I just feel bad making you do the work, you deserve to feel good too.” You roll your eyes and kiss his cheek, “Vik, if you think you don’t make me feel good, you’re crazy. This was nice though.” He nods.

“I’ll make a note to do it again, just for you.”

Can you do Ellie with a mommy kink and she was being a brat and the reader puts Ellie in her place by making her wear a vibe out in public and makes Ellie cum quietly after she made her beg for it

what did you expect?

ೃ⁀➷ sub ellie williams x dom reader

ೃ⁀➷ word count 1.7k+ (sorry 😫)

ೃ⁀➷ summary: i feel like this would be the vibrator that reader chose for ellie, for the full experience ofcourse ;) ((whore for this ellie))

ೃ⁀➷ warnings: NOT BETA READ, exhibtionism, ellie williams is a loser sub in this (don’t like that, don’t read), overstimulation, public humiliation (maybe, idk, still tho..), fluff in the end, reader is an implied sugar mommy in this. (i didn’t go into a lot of detail about reader so r! can be femme or masc or wtv!!!)

ೃ⁀➷ 🍉🍉🍉!!!!!! (from the river to the sea)

ೃ⁀➷ reblogs and comments always appreciated 🫶🏻

╰➤ linktree ╰➤ pinterest╰➤ request rules

ellie willams was acting like a brat.

you knew she wasn’t a brat. but she was acting like one.

you had just returned from a work trip, and ever since you came back, she had been acting like a brat.

she reminded you of your childhood cat who used to get salty whenever you left with your family for vacations.

but your childhood cat couldn’t talk back. couldn’t push your buttons like ellie did.

so you decided she needed punishment, and a little bit of assurance that you weren’t going to leave her.

so on friday, you sent her a text while you worked.

[you]: we need to talk, i am taking you to dinner tonight. wear something pretty.

[ells]: fine

[you]: i left you a surprise on your desk, wear it.

she left you on read.

you smiled, more fuel for the punishment you were going to make her endure.

[you]: pick you up at eight sharp.

· • —– ٠ ✩ ٠ —– • ·

7:30

ellie stared at the fancy box.

she had no clue what it could contain. it was big.

as soon as she opened it, her thighs clenched.

you were scheming, and she loved it.

it was a weird dildo vibrator. it was shaped like a curvy L,

she could hear her blood rush in her ears.

she tried to turn it on but wasn’t able to find the power button.

her thighs clenched in response. she unbuttoned the nice pants she had worn for the occasion and slipped them down her hips along with her underwear.

sliding her fingers into her wet core, she circled her clit softly. she pulsed with desire and anticipation.

she was drenched.

she had gone so long feeling sorry for herself, you had left for a week and had barely replied to her. sliding in the thick dildo into her drenched pussy was a welcome feeling. the vibrator sat snugly against her clit. it had slight bumps that rubbed against her deliciously.

she knew she couldn’t get off. she had worked on her appearance and did not want to ruin it. ellie also did not want to ruin the anticipation.

she sat on the sofa waiting for eight to arrive.

the intrusion on her pussy and the pressure against her clit made her shift her hips and pant.

by the time her phone rang, she had worked herself into a flush.

she could feel the wetness everywhere.

she stumbled out of your penthouse apartment, down the elevator and into the car.

you were driving, weird. you always had someone else drive, someone from the company you worked for.

you had a very high position, which allowed you to spoil ellie rotten.

and you would usually go into the back of the car with her, motion for the privacy screen, and just…

but not today.

today you gave her a tight-lipped smile.

it made her nervous.

the car ride to the restaurant was quiet, she was too frustrated to notice though. she couldn’t concentrate, so she kept rubbing herself on the sex toy. shifting her hips, trying to alleviate the pressure.

“stay still ellie, or this is going to get difficult.”

she had barely noticed you park, barely noticed the valet opened the door.

she stumbled out, her legs unstable. she felt your warm arms hold her up.

you were dressed to kill. your hair was done, and your clothes were tight on your body. she panted.

your smile was evil. “oh, are you feeling alright? do you want to go back” you said loudly enough for the people around to hear as you walked into the fancy restaurant.

“im fi-fine…” she mumbled.

she clutched your arm as she beheld the full restaurant. filled with fancy people.

she didn’t belong here. less with a plastic dildo stuffed in her cunt.

but you did not seem fazed, supporting her as the waiter led you to your table, right by the window, it had a beautiful view of the river. but she could hardly appreciate it.

you pulled out a chair for her, and she clenched her jaw as she sat down, the position making her pussy pressed against the textured toy.

the waiter handed both of you the menus before leaving.

you started talking about wine, but ellie got nervous.

she wasn’t dumb, she knew it was remote-controlled, she shivered with nerves. she could barely look at you, but your eyes were focused on her face

were you going to turn it on in public?

she did not have to wait long. the waiter came back to take the order. you ordered as usual.

“ellie, love, do you want anything else?”

she swallowed saliva, inhaled, and opened her mouth to speak “no than-“

her knees banged the table.

she had not been prepared, she had been expecting it, not at the moment she opened her mouth to speak. she forced a cough, suppressed a whine.

“oh sweetie, are you sure you feel alright? look at you, you’re flushed!” you were mocking her. she raised her eyes to meet yours. you looked pleased. “that will be all thank you.” you politely smiled at the waiter, dismissing him.

it had been about an hour since she slid the toy into her pussy. she was strung tight, and she desperately needed a release. the soft vibration and the constant stimulation without pausing, or without payoff was making her teeth chatter.

you tried to make small talk while waiting for food.

she slid her hands under her thighs, sitting on them to hide their visible shake. her eyes were trained on the table setting. she could feel wetness drench her panties. she bucked her hips as subtly, as discreetly as she could. chasing the pleasure. the slow drag of stimulation on her sensitive clit sent jolts of lightning through her. she bit her lip. she she looked up at you.

your chin rested on your palm, fingers drumming against your cheek. you were looking at her with a look of adoration. she missed it.

“mommy…” she whimpered. she was so gone, barely conscious of the freuidan slip, of the word leaving her mouth.

she could count on one hand the number of times she had called you that. but she had been missing you since you had left for that work trip. and even though you had come back physically, she still missed your comfort.

the food arrived, and she was not even close to coming, but she was close to crying.

her hands shook as she did her best to eat.

she barely registered the taste. if it was good or not. she swallowed as her body begged her for release.

her thighs spasmed softly.

it had been ages of constant stimulation. she could tell the vibration was at the lowest level. but it was still frustrating.

“ellie, i am so sorry if i made you feel unwanted while i was away, there is no excuse for me ignoring you. i was busy, but i should have made time for you. i really love you ellie, but i am hurt you did not feel comfortable enough with me to tell me what had been bothering you and took it out on me with hurtful words. i can honestly not let it slide, it was disrespectful, and you need some negative reinforcement.” your voice was soft, only for her ears. you slid a hand under the table.

her limbs locked in anticipation, she could not hold back a soft whine at the increased stimulation.

her whole body shook in desperation. “please, i’ll do any- anything… i’m so so- sorry mommy. i j- just missed you!” her voice was barely above a whisper. but she could tell you had heard.

“okay, i think that is enough suffering for tonight.” your voice was soft with understanding. “clench your teeth. take a deep breath baby- yes that’s it. another. prepare yourself to keep quiet.”

ellie hid her face in her hands in anticipation. her body jerked harshly as the intensity rose enough to bring her to the edge. her teeth tore the surface of her lip.

this time, he whole body shook in earnest. as sudden as the intense vibrations arrived, they left. and she was left jerking her hips against the toy to ride out the aftershocks.

“oh baby, i am so sorry, i did not know it was that bad.” your voice was loud. you got your wallet and pulled out three crisp hundred dollar bills. more than enough to cover the food and wine, placing it on the table. you got out of your chair and moved to her side. you slid your arm along her waist and hoisted her up.

she knew she was almost deadweight, but she did her best to move her legs. she sniffled an mumbled gibberish apologies as you made your way to the valet.

she tried her best to fight off sleep on the car ride home.

she did not fight off the urge to lean on you during the elevator ride up. you murmured praise and sweet words the whole time.

you helped her off her clothes. helped her wash her face, her teeth. all the while, she had the toy stuffed in her sensitive pussy.

you led her to bed. she wore nothing but the panties and the rubber dildo. you had not changed out of your fancy clothes.

she laid on her back. whining and twisting her body as you slid her panties down her freckled thighs.

her legs were spread open, and you rested your cheek on her soft and warm thigh. her upper inner thighs were slick.

you pulled out the sopping wet toy and enjoyed her soft whines as you replaced it with your mouth.

you wrapped your fingers around her hips. her skin was soft and warm.

you lapped at her until her thighs were violently spasming, you stopped when she yanked at your hair, pulling you up.

she was sniffling and sighing in contentment. she looked through heavy eyes as you removed your clothes, undid your hair, and got in bed with her. tangling your limbs with hers.

she groaned in pleasure when your nails scraped her scalp. she felt herself drifting onto unconscious.

didn’t even make sense of her words. “missed you mommy, so much…”

and you swore to yourself, you would never be the cause of her insecurity again. never do anything for her to doubt that she was loved by you.

· • —– ٠ ✩ ٠ —– • ·

reblogs and comments always appreciated 🫶🏻

gojo satoru had experienced hell before, that one time he lined up to get his favorite manga signed by the author but kept letting people cut in front of him because he was too scared to say something and he’s just nice like that. that was until geto told him off for doing it because he ended up not getting his book signed. he’s so dumb.

but this—this was a different kind of hell. he’s sat on the couch at a house party with.. yeah, you guessed it. the squad: suguru geto, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna… a whole bunch of hotties

it’s not really a pleasant sight to see. 2 girls clinging onto sukuna, fushiguro making out with one and geto talking to a girl who is clearly interested in him..

and then there’s gojo.

sitting there awkwardly, clutching a cup in his hand while sipping on nothing.

sure, he loves his best friend suguru. he just hates how popular he is. at every function, all the girls seem to be magnetised to his mysterious and brooding aura. and gojo’s just there, i guess. he huffs at the thought. he thinks knows that he could treat a girl soooo right if they just gave him a chance!

geto excuses himself to go upstairs with the girl. satoru already knows where this is going, so he brushes it off. he then eyes the group of girls from afar giggling and whispering to each other while looking at the guys on the couch. actually.. it looks like they’re looking towards his direction.

“come on y/n! just ask him!” your friends keep nudging and shoving you towards his direction, and gojo couldn’t help but scowl.

after finally mustering up the courage to come up to him, you fiddle with your fingers before stuttering out a quiet “hi,”

gojo sighs, “if you’re here to ask for suguru’s number, i’m not interested.”

your eyes widen in confusion which makes him confused too.

“oh, uh.. i was actually going to ask for yours..?”

what.

there’s no way.

“it’s fine if you’re not interested, i’m sorry—”

“NO, NO, I AM!” he internally cringes at his response. “sorry, i just.. thought you were gonna ask about suguru.” he puts his palm out, silently asking you to give him the sharpie. you shrug and give it to him, rolling your sleeve up.

you smile after he writes down his number on your forearm, giving you back your pen. “thanks,” he nods at you. “and for the record.. i think you’re way cuter than geto.” gojo’s face heats up as you walk away, burying his face into his hoodie.

you tuck the pen into your pocket, suppressing a grin as you walk away. behind you, gojo groans, burying his face deeper into his hoodie, his muffled voice barely audible.

“way cuter than geto,” he mutters to himself, kicking at the ground. “way cuter. oh my god.”

͙͘͡★ divider by @zerowhy & @cafekitsune 🩵

These two saved the world btw

you were in the park, petting some random dog.

its owner, a tall dude with white hair and sunglasses, said,

“wanna see her puppy?”

and like a fool, you said, “hell yeah, i wanna see puppy.”

you followed him.

to his car.

every true crime podcast screamed in your head,

but puppy logic overrode survival instinct.

fast forward five years.

that tall dude? gojo.

your husband.

the dog is still fat.

gojo’s still hot.

and every time he tells the story, he starts with:

“she risked it all for a puppy. now she’s stuck with me.”

computer show me men with wet spots in their underwear. men making a mess in their boxers. men gasping and panting. men pressing their thighs together. men with trembling hands and sweat beading on their neck. men with warm, sweet skin between their thighs. men twitching. computer. computer can you hear me.

needy!drunk!gojo satoru x gn reader-based off this post

synopsis: gojo is a lightweight, vowed to sobriety to keep whatever bit of shame he has left to his name. but he really can't help but take a few shots when he sees you doing the same.

warnings: sub gojo, gn dom reader, both reader and gojo are drunk, gojo's a lightweight, handjob, semi-public sex, he cries-like a lot, he also had nipple piercings bc i couldn't help myself, reader's kinda a hoe, feelings, think that's it

The warm press of hands against your hips is what makes you gasp. The soft touch of lips traced over your throat is what makes your head spin.

What a delightful feeling. 

What a human desire. 

“Touch me.” 

The room spins around you, the warm feeling of being held making you sigh, leaning into it. The scent of him, the greedy claiming of his presence in your mind. So selfish. Of him not to think of the effect that this has on you. To not care about the war going on in your mind. 

“Touch me, please?” A whine this time. A meek sound, spilling from his lips, making your body light up in return. 

“Satoru,” He practically purrs at his name on your lips. Pathetic. How easily riled up he is. How easily you’re able to make his knees feel weak. How much he loves the sound of your lips forming his name.

“Mmmm, say it again.”His nose sweeps delicately over your neck, working over a heavy sigh as he tries not to get drunk on the smell of your shampoo. Or more drunk than he already is, that is. 

“Your name?” You mutter slowly. 

“Yeah….” His words have been gradually slurring over the span of the night, with the amount of shots he’s taken, with the amount of drinks he’s had. With the inches of space between you closing until there’s nothing between you but the thin layer of clothing that does nothing to hide the bulge he shamelessly presses against you.

Even so, you know that he's always been far beyond measures of shame, but this is a whole new level, the way he continues to press his body impossibly closer to yours, his broad chest against your shoulders, his hips canting against you. 

You’ve always hated how he’s been taller than you, his incessant teasing when he throws you over his shoulder as you yell and pound on his back. He takes advantage of it all too often.

You don’t mind now.

“Why, Satoru?” Maybe you’re cruel for the teasing, for liking your friend’s reactions all too much. Shivering, nearly violently, throbbing against your lower back. 

He whines, “Sounds so…-so much better when you say it. Makes me wanna just…”

His breath is heavy with the scent of alcohol and you’re still not entirely sure how Shoko and Suguru managed to get him to break his vow of sobriety. Not when you’d seen him turning them down for the first bit of the night.

The next time you saw him he was getting dragged along by you, gulping down whatever liquids you shoved into his hands. 

With his feverish hands tracing up your body and his sinful hips pressing against yours. Muttering about how he wanted you and needed you, whispering about things he'd never have said in the harsh reality of day, but was that not the beauty of getting intoxicated beyond belief?

“Hmm? Just what?” 

He simpers, “Wan’ you to touch me, play with me, like I’m just a toy for you~” He grinds slowly and you wish you could kiss him. Kiss him until he’s breathless and red and can’t remember his own name. Dazed and dizzy and muttering gibberish while loosely gripping onto you. 

You don’t think if you’d even have to kiss him to do that right now, but the taste of his perfectly pink lips would just be an added pleasure to this delectable mix.

But you shouldn’t. And you won’t.

Not because he’s your friend and this will surely be crossing some unspoken line.

Or because it’ll throw off the axis of your entire friend group. You'd never let that stop you before. And you wouldn’t let something like that stop you now. Not when you've clumsily pressed your lips to Shoko’s, high out of your mind and hidden under the blanket of dark nights. Or when you let your hands wander along the lengths of Suguru’s skin, promising to make him feel things he’d never felt before. 

Not because Satoru Gojo is one of your best friends.

But because Satoru Gojo is currently drunk and so are you. And despite the fact that you’re practically drowning in the warmth of alcohol and all that is Satoru Gojo, you want whatever you do with him to mean something-be something. Not just a clumsy night of drunken mistakes and hazy flashes, not something you’ll forget in the morning and agree to never speak of again.

He’s too…important for you to treat him like that. And you’re too selfish to let anything you do to him to mean anything but the fact that he would be yours. But he’s not yours. And you’re not his. And all this thinking is only making a steady ache build behind your temples.

You sigh, twisting around in his arms. Blue eyes blinking back at you, slowly searching over yours and fuck, his lips are so kissable. Pink and plump, trapped between his too white teeth.

“Let’s get you back to Shoko and Suguru, they’ll take you home and make sure you don’t kill yourself.” You’re not entirely sure where they went or why they’ve left the two of you behind, all alone where they'd know neither of you were in the right mind to make good choices.

 “No,” He shakes his head, white hair tossing, ruffled and mussed from a night of clinging to you like this. Far too close for comfort though you still couldn’t bring yourself to pry him off.  “No, n-no, don’t wan’you  to leave…” 

You begin to tug him off either way. He’s not sane enough to make decisions for himself and you don’t think you are either. “C’mon baby, let’s go find your friends.”

He shudders and grips your hand, refusing to move an inch. Tears pool in his eyes and your jaw hardens.

You sigh. You didn’t know why you thought this was a fight you’d win either way. It was a losing game trying to argue with Satoru. His lips wobble and you can feel your resolve withering away by the second. Tearing down every single defence you put up around, being ripped away by him and his stupid tears as if they were paper. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispers and he looks pathetic but you know you’ll give in to him if he asks you to. “Don’t leave me…please.”

You cup his cheek and he purrs, melting into the touch as if he were a cat, pushing into you for more attention. Basking in your attention as you sweep his tears away with your thumb, letting him close his eyes and pull you into the soft cushioning of a booth. 

You feel heady or maybe it’s the alcohol talking. More tears roll down his cheeks, tracking along the slopes of his flushed face. Crystalline and sacred and you realize with a twist in the pit of your stomach that it’s arousing.

The sight of him. His sweat-soaked skin and his eyes big and glassy. And the fragile mask he’s worked so hard to keep up deteriorating beneath your very eyes, each tear breaking and cracking apart the image of the powerful man he claims to be.

A crumpled facade of a God into a something more, something divine and corrupt, something vulnerable and weak and so very human in your arms, falling apart by a mere touch.

Maybe you’re more fucked up than you realized. Maybe you’re just horny. Maybe because it’s him. And he’s Satoru Gojo and everything about him is perfect. Powerful. Transcendent. A God against humans, finally falling apart like this, before you, ready to fall to his knees. Perhaps he was always meant to.

“Don’t wanna be alone…don’t wanna…ngh~” 

His hips thrust up, a whiny gasp working past his lips. He pants as if he’s run a marathon and you want to do such delectably sinful things to him and you’re sure you could do them all and more and he’d only beg and plead for more.

Perhaps…

“Kiss me.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, you wonder if he can hear with how loud it is. “Satoru,”

He whines and grinds and you moan. And it’s a losing battle.

“Shut up,” he insists, hand cupping the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair, almost obsessively. “Shut up and just kiss me.”

“You know we can’t. You-“

“I, am perfectly fine.” His words are a pant, a plea, whispered with a kind of reverence of a worshipper to a god. “Just kiss me, fuck me. Use me,” white eyelashes flutter, blue looking all the bluer rimmed with red and filled with tears. “Use me until you’re bored of me, until there’s nothing left-i don’t care.” He breathes, desperate and pleading and looking like he’s ready to get down on his damn knees on the dirty sticky floor. “Just-please.”

A losing fucking battle. 

Maybe it always was. Trying to keep your hands off him, now, you realized it was like setting a treat on a dogs nose and telling them to wait. A crazy amount self control with the eventual prize just in sight. 

All you can think as you cup his cheeks, flushed and wet from tears, warm against your hands is how fucking pretty he is. How you want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Fuck, Satoru,” you mutter and he moans deep and appreciatively and then you’re pulling him in to slide your lips against his.

 And now all you can think about is how much of a dumbass you are for not doing this sooner.

He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes-when he had one you don’t know but you do know that it’s the most intoxicating mix you’ve ever encountered. You feel like you’re floating, high off his taste and his moans; like he’s a drug and you’re the addict, injecting him straight into the vein. 

It's far from elegant and he’s not perfect at it in the way you’d expect from a man as beautiful as him-godhood hasn’t blessed him in every aspect. But he’s desperate and he's eager to take everything you give, mewling against your lips. 

He’s so needy and it's crazy the way it sends you into a sort of reverie. His hands gripping your hips hard, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go, like he’s hoping you’re real and not a apparition of drunken hysteria. He pulls you closer, as if you could get close enough that no one could find where you ended and he started, that you might be able to meld into one.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same sentiment. If you didn’t try your hardest to do the exact same; nails pressing into his skin, making him whine as you tilted his head back and slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring, feeling, taking, using. 

Just like he told you to do.

He vibrates against you, nearly shaking with choked noises. He mutters soundless words, each and every one swallowed by you as soon as they’re spoken. Pleas and prayers, worships and praises. 

You’d show him what real ascension felt like.

You probably should be embarrassed, or at the very least shameful to be putting on such a show in front of what you know are watching eyes. But you know that Gojo is far past shame at this point and you're too enamoured by the beauty that is Satoru Gojo clinging to you like he’s about to break.

To be honest, you can't find it in yourself to give a shit about any of them. About anything but him, focusing your attention on devouring him whole as he shatters, ready to catch every piece as they fall into your waiting hands. No matter if the shards rip apart your skin and leave you a bloody mangled mess.

You break away first, fighting a smile at his whine as you pull away from him, panting. 

He looks unravelled, messy. His usual flirty facade lost to pleasure. His watery eyes and heartbroken whines gone as well. Overwhelmed by swollen lips and gasps to make up for lost air. A blush like he’s just realized where he is, burying his face into your neck to hide from the probing eyes. To whisper, "You're too good at that, you know?.”

You bark a laugh and he nuzzles into your skin. 

And then you’re redirecting him to your lips again.

In a flurry of hands and lips, messy steps and you’re clumsily stumbling into the bathroom. Quickly, Satoru is shoved against the door, fingers fumbling for the lock.

Your lips find his neck, fluttering a barrage of open-mouthed kisses over the heated skin, dragging your tongue along his thrumming heartbeat. 

He whines and he begs, muttering nonsense that makes it to your ears but not to your head as you hum against him. Slender fingers knit through your hair, holding you close to him, pleading for you to never leave him.

“Touch me, touch me, touch me.” He repeats, slurred and slow, his eyes drooped shut, his voice husky with want, with lust and everything he’s been just barely repressing all this time.

But you've only ever been a slave to his desires.

So you respond in tenfold, nipping and sucking, leaving evidence that you've been here, staking a claim that doesn't exist and maybe never will but for tonight maybe you can play pretend.

Because he keens when your teeth sink into his skin and his back arches, pressing evidence of his wanton yearnings against you like you might devour him whole.

Like he wants you to.

He quieter when he whispers something that could change everything. “Love me?”

Your heart pounds in your chest but you’d never turn him down. 

Fingers deftly undo the buttons on his tight-fitting button up, revealing porcelain-like skin underneath. His nipples are hard and pink and fucking pierced. 

He gasps when you touch them, pinching them between your thumb and forefinger.

And you've never been particularly mean but you can make an exception for the God in front of you, leaving him to tortuous touches all while he throbs and thrusts into nothing but the fabric of his too-tight pants, whining from the stimulation that's all too little.

He's been begging for this all night. Whispering dirty words like a little tease, like a shameless slut.

He got you all riled up and for that you think that he should take his own share of teasing.

For retribution, for your own piece of mind and the pleasure it is to watch him squirm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and tearstained and begging in small breathless whimpers barely over a whisper.

But you've never been able to resist him long, not then, not now and not ever.

Your hand finally reaches for his waistband, his body shivering with the feeling of your fingers dipping onto hot, untouched skin.

But he stops you.

His hand, large and pale landing over your own in a quick moment of lucidity.

His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"

You met his vulnerability with a promise because you could never leave him with any less. "Yes," your words a whispered caress, a undying oath in itself, a vow that you'd take beyond this in whatever may happen.

Your lips brush over his ear, his eyes squeezing shut as your hand wraps around him, dragging a ruinous moan from deep in his throat.

"I promise, I will."

And your hand is wrapping around him, hot and wet and hard, all for you. Just for you. And his head is turned off, just sensations and feeling and you.

Just you.

"F-fuck, yes, please," so broken, fragile almost as ironic as it is. "Yes, pl-please, feels so go-good."

He doesn't last long and you don't know if it's from all the teasing you've administered or from how long he's been worked up for.

But you rather like the thought of him being sensitive enough that your voice and a few strokes is enough to bring him to the edge.

To have him pulsing in your hand while his arms wrap around your shoulders, blunt nails scraping into you skin as his hips thrust with reckless abandon.

His body quivering with pleasure as your hand forms a loose hole for him to fuck into, your thumb playing with the sensitive head of his dick.

"Please, please I need it, need it so bad," And he has no right sounding this good, looking this good while fucking into your hand like a goddamn dog. "Need it more than anything."

He always has been one for dramatics.

His head falls back against the wall, throat bobbing with the moan deep in his throat, fuck how the marks of your teeth stand out on the pale skin of his neck. Your lips permanent on his body for now, forever maybe if he'll let you keep replacing them.

"Fuck, Satoru," You free hand threads through his head, pushing his lips to meet yours, messy and slopping as he arches against you, hips thrusting erratically to match your pace. Keening when you nip at him, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, nails scratching at his scalp sending tingles down every part of his body.

He breaks away with a gasp and a cry when and only when he absolutely has to, eyes shining and chest heaving with breaths to fill his burning lungs.

And he's crying. And he's beautiful.

More beautiful than anyone or anything you've ever seen in your life.

"Shit, I'm close, m' so fuckin' close-!"

You’re half out of your mind and you couldn’t feel more sane. Like this was meant to happen-like he was meant to be yours. 

"Don' stop, please don't stop," he gasps, like you'd ever think about it, like you'd could even if you wanted to.

“Satoru,” And he shakes.

“Satoru,” And he sobs.

“Satoru,” And he breaks, head falling back as if in prayer, a finger pushing his chin up, clashing against a higher power he didn't think possible.

“My one and only Satoru.” Soft and sweet and just for him and only him. And he’s gone.

Ropes of cum spurt out, rope after rope, covering your hand and the floor. Covering his thighs and his stomach in a mess.

Everything feels fuzzy and his cheeks are pink. A stupid grin crossing his face as he melts, boneless in your arms. "I love you." He mutters, distantly, foggily.

Perhaps somewhere beneath the haze he thinks that maybe you've said the same back. But he isn't quite sure anymore. He needs to be sure.

Slowly, he's lowered onto the floor into a sitting position. The tile is cold against his bare skin but it's okay because you're still caressing him, holding his face in your hand, thumb wiping at his tears.

"You love me right?"

You leave for moment and a whines at the loss of you pressed against him. Even if it's only for a few seconds he feels lonely and empty without your touch.

But then you're back and you're wiping him down with a wet towel, cleaning off his skin so gently, as if he's made of glass of porcelain, like he something to be cherished and taken care of.

"Hey pretty boy, you good?" He recognizes your voice even throughout the cloud in his mind. He nods and you smile and he's melting all over again.

"Do you love me?"

You roll your eyes and for an awful second he thinks that maybe you're going to say no. But then you're pushing the hair off his forehead and kissing him so fucking gently he thinks he'll cry.

"I do love you Satoru."

And his heart is bursting-he swears it is, it's beating so fast and so hard he's absolutely sure that you can hear it and that the quiet laughs escaping your pretty lips is because you can tell how dumbly in love with you he is.

But that doesn't matter.

Because right now he's normal person and you're a normal person and nothing else will matter but the fact that he's your's now.

"I love you too, y'know?" He mumbles.

You kiss him again, and again, and again. On his forehead and his temples, his cheeks and the tip of his nose and each of his eyelids. You kiss everywhere on his face until his lips are pouted out and he lets out a little whine of frustration.

And then you kiss his lips. Barely a peck, too fast and short for his taste but he doesn't have time to complain as you pull him off the floor.

“C’mon pretty boy, let me bring you home.”

“Mmm,” He doesn’t move, boneless against you. “Will you fuck me again?”

You laugh, soft. “Like I’d be able to resist you.”

cute little painfully nerdy 2000s ellie williams x popular bimbo fem reader part 2

in the girls’ locker room the fluorescent lights buzz overhead. perfume clouds thick in the air. flat irons sizzle, flip phones chirp, and someone in the corner is crying over their boyfriend breaking up with them.

you’re standing in front of your locker. glossy lips pursed, sidekick phone in the pocket of your low rise jeans, your hands pulling your tank top off slow, dramatic, giving the girls (and let’s be real, mostly one girl) a show. dramatic push up, leopard print, hot pink VS bra on full display.

now that girl? ellie williams. corner bench goblin. hoodie up. knees turned in. glasses slipping, lip bitten raw, sketchbook trembling in her lap.

she’s not even pretending anymore. just fully drawing you. boobs front and center. pink glitter gel pen already on standby. there’s a little bubble by your nipples that says:

“soft?? or dangerous??”

then she gasps. you turned your head and looked at her. and because the universe hates her, her stupid clammy hand jerks—

sketchbook goes flying.

sprawled open on the tile.

right at your feet.

you look down. brows furrow. blink. then, slowly, you bend over—boobs still out—and pick it up with two manicured fingers like it’s covered in germs.

“…what the actual f*ck is this.”

ellie’s already stammering. “i-i was just—it’s for a project—i’m in—uh—figure drawing—?”

you hold up the page. “is that supposed to be me? are these my tits?”

she’s practically vibrating. “they’re—they’re really distinctive.”

now, the whole locker room is watching. girls whispering. dina’s jaw is dropped. someone’s filming on their pink razr.

you flip through the sketchbook. pages of you in different bras. different outfits. one of you in a bikini you haven’t even worn yet.

you hold one up. “why am i in a schoolgirl skirt with whipped cream on my chest?”

ellie squeaks. “i—it’s symbolic?”

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “symbolic of what? your weird little loser nut fantasy?”

she shrinks.

“geez,” you mutter. “you’re so pathetic.”

that made ellie wet as if she wasn’t already. she opens her mouth. closes it. opens it again. “i think I’m in love with you,” she says.

you burst out laughing. “no sh*t, perv.”

ellie freezes. she looks like you just stabbed her in the chest with a glittery gel pen.

“wait—hold on—please,” she says, voice going higher than her GPA’s ever been. “you can’t—you can’t keep that.”

you arch a brow, already flipping to the next page. “i absolutely can. possession is, like, nine-tenths of the law. ever heard of it?”

ellie lunges forward instinctively—then thinks better of it. hands up, like she’s in a hostage negotiation. “okay. okay. let’s talk. we can talk. that sketchbook—it’s not safe for the public. you haven’t even seen the worst pages.”

you pause, intrigued. “oh? there’s worse?”

she twitches. visibly. “page sixteen is a crime. i drew that at 3AM while watching wild things and—i wasn’t in my right mind. please.”

you start turning the page. she yelps.

“i’ll pay you!” you glance up. “with what? your lunch tokens?”

“i’ll sell my PS3. i’ll—i’ll do your homework—“ you hold up a page. “is this me… as a sexy vampire?”

ellie visibly short-circuits. “okay, that one was experimental.”

you smirk. “you gave me fangs.”

“it was a metaphor!”

“for what?!”

she just breathes. hard. ragged. “desire?”

you’re wheezing now, flipping faster. “why am I in a maid outfit on this page?”

she slaps her forehead. “that one’s not done! you’re supposed to be stepping on me!”

you look up, stunned.

“i was in a weird place, okay?!”

you cackle, stepping back as she reaches forward again. “if you touch me, i will literally call coach vera and tell her you’re having a pervert episode.”

she groans, dropping her face into her hands. “i was gonna burn it. i swear. i had a lighter and everything and then i remembered i have asthma and the fumes might kill me—”

you flip another page. pause. “is that… my bra on your head?”

she’s now just crouching behind a bench like a feral animal. “i was doing character study.”

you tuck the sketchbook under your arm and fix her with a smile that’s all teeth. “i’m keeping this.”

ellie just whimpers.

you lean in, giggle mockingly, casually evil. “i’m putting sticky notes on the ones i like best.”

she makes a strangled noise. and not in the usual creepy, horny way—this one’s real. “page seventeen has smudges—don’t judge me by that one!”

her shoulders slump. glasses fogged beyond saving. she’s blinking a lot, like she’s trying not to cry. it’s giving tragic victorian orphan. if victorian orphans wore spider-man boxers and thought about your boobs 24/7.

you pause.

“huh.”

it’s not like you feel bad, exactly. but it’s… visible. pathetic, even for her. she’s gone quiet. staring at the floor like the sketchbook was her only shot at happiness and now you’re gonna frame it above your bed like a serial killer trophy.

you sigh. loudly. dramatically. like it pains you to be merciful.

“my goodness, fine.”

you shove the sketchbook toward her chest. “take your little porn diary, freak.”

ellie grabs it like it’s a newborn baby. cradles it. whispers, “thank you” like you just pulled her out of a burning building.

“i don’t want your loser fantasies anyway,” you mutter, tossing your hair, adjusting your bra strap. “half of them didn’t even make sense. why was i riding you with a neon penis in thigh-highs?”

ellie doesn’t answer. she’s too busy clutching the book to her chest like it’s her oxygen supply.

you roll your eyes. “ugh. you’re welcome or whatever.”

she looks up at you, eyes glassy behind her crooked frames.

“…you have a really beautiful soul,” she says.

you just pat her head like a dog. “clean your glasses, williams. you’re fogging up again.”

and with that you flip your hair over your shoulder and start walking away back to your locker, muttering just loud enough for her to hear:

“sick in the head. go draw a tree or something, loser. get a grip.”

just like that, you’re gone—lip gloss shining, the kind of exit that belongs in a teen movie finale. girls part like the red sea. you don’t even look back.

ellie just stands there. silent. cradling her returned sketchbook like it’s the ark of the covenant. knees weak. boxers sticking.

she flips open to page sixteen. stares at the half-finished drawing of you in a silk robe that’s barely on, licking frosting off your finger in a kitchen that says “hot bimbo bakery” on a pink neon sign in the back. you’re surrounded by cupcakes. in the bottom corner, ellie had scribbled in shaky handwriting:

“i’d let her eat me like dessert. respectfully. or not.”

her hand trembles. she closes the sketchbook gently. holds it to her chest. eyes wide. flushed.

you’d seen it. maybe not that one, but enough. enough to know.

and you still gave it back. called her sick in the head, sure. but didn’t kill her. ellie sinks to the bench.

her chest is tight.

her glasses are fogging again.

she’s pretty sure her boxers are ruined forever.

she whispers, “she noticed me…”

then slowly slumps against the locker, eyes wide, cheeks pink, heart doing backflips.

she’s never been more down bad in her life.

and tragically? she’s only gonna get worse.

taglist : @deliciouslydeviantsatan, @valeisaslut, and @dollinrehab. lmk if uu wanna be added. :)

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅| 18+, gn!reader (no pronouns or bodily description), blowjobs/oral, virgin!viktor, sub!viktor if you squint, language/dirty talk, light praise, viktor begs/says please a lot, some deepthroating, first time actually writing for arcane pls forgive any mistakes T^T)

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅| 0.3k words

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅| viktor loml… i hope this was okay and that y’all enjoyed! i’m so obsessed with arcane and i’m only 4 eps in (viktor and vi are my f/os). thank you so much for reading!! <3

sucking virgin!viktor until he’s absolutely trembling, thighs tense and pretty moans dropping from his lips like a mantra.

“hah, oh, fuck — ‘s so deep, feels so good,” he’s babbling incoherently, hips thrusting up in small humps to fuck his cock deeper into your throat. he’s big, stretching you out in all directions and offering your jaw a pleasant ache.

“so, so good — faster, please,” viktor whines, eyes cinched shut and jaw clenched in pleasure; he’s so close to absolutely losing it, wrapped up in the nirvana of your plump lips around him, cock hard and leaking and throbbing.

you bob your head down against his humps and hollow your cheeks, tongue laving over the thick vein on the underside of his dick, pulling a full body shiver from the man spread out in the chair.

“shit — mhmm, fuck, do that again, please.”

you can tell he’s close already, balls and cock both twitching with every slide into your mouth, moans escalating and torso jerking. you repeat your previous action over and over again, until viktor is nearly combusting beneath you —

“co-coming — fuck, it’s — hurry, get off, please. i don’t want to —”

you don’t let viktor finish; instead, you put more enthusiasm behind your movements, one hand shooting up to wrap around his shaft and twist. you’re dead set on making him bust, gut heated and churning at the feel of his dick kicking up against your palate.

he’s absolute putty, body trembling and convulsing as he sinks his fingers into your hair and grips.

“wait, fuck — hah — coming!” viktor uses his leverage to push your head down, cockhead spearing past your tonsils and pulling a gag from your throat. he’s thick and hot inside your throat, dick twitching hard as ropes shoot from his tip, splattering against the walls of your esophagus and causing your eyes to roll back.

everything about viktor is thick in this moment — his fingers, his voice, his cock, his cum; and it’s driving you absolutely insane, sore throat working overtime to swallow down every drop your mouth is milking from him.

“ooh, shiiiit,” viktor moans as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth, fucking himself gently through his orgasm. “so good… oh, fuck, ‘s wonderful… can we go again, please?”

feed back and reblogs are always appreciated my girliees <333

virgin!nerdjo who pulled a total certified baddie in college by being…himself.

awkward, dorky, too tall for his own good, always pushing up those stupid glasses with ink-stained fingers— it was him. somehow, you wanted him. he doesn't understand how he got so lucky, but he's not about to question it. 

virgin!nerdjo got one mission : being good to you. especially in bed. because when you kissed him for the first time, straddling his lap, grinding that perfect little body against him, he nearly came in his pants. he gripped your waist a little too tight to keep you from moving too much. it's humiliating how quickly he was about to fold, how his cock throbs desperately just from the heat of you.

virgin!nerdjo isn't completely clueless—he's read about sex, heard about it, he's not that innocent. but knowing and doing are two completely different things. and he realized it the second you grinded on him. he damn near whimpered. bit down hard on his lip to swallow it back.

virgin!nerdjo needs to learn. he thinks porn might help—big mistake. it's all so…aggressive. male-centered. nothing about it feels right. he watches a few clips, cringing the entire time, then slams his laptop shut and scrubs a hand down his face. he should have listened when geto used to go on and on about his exploits. should have paid attention instead of rolling his eyes and tuning him out.

so he does what he does best. he researches. virgin!nerdjo orders a book called ‘The Art of Female Pleasure.’ and the moment it arrives, he's on it. glasses slipping down his nose, hunched over the pages, absorbing every word like it's the most important text he's ever studied. he dedicates days to this. nights. rereads passages, highlights sections. he doesn't just want to be good. he wants to be perfect. because you're a baddie—a pro— and he's so fucking lucky. what if you jump on him any time soon and he's still not ready? that idea terrifies him.

virgin!nerdjo gets so into it that he even starts to scroll through forums. he reads firsthand experiences, studying anatomy diagrams until his face is burning and his cock is achingly hard beneath the sheets. because it's not just learning, it's imagining.

virgin!nerdjo who imagines you underneath him, pretty lips parted in gasps, legs spread as he slides his fingers over you just like the book describes. he imagines how wet you'd get if he did everything right. if he took his time, kissed his way down your body, licked into you like he's read—slow, deep, deliberate. he wonders if you'd tug on his hair, if you'd cry out his name, if you'd shake when you come, thighs squeezing around his head—

fuck. horny thoughts took over him as he bucks up into nothing. he wants it. so bad. 

and the next time you're kissing, you instantly notice how his hands get bolder, slipping under your shirt, trailing fire down your spine. how he suddenly knows excatly where to touch, where to squeeze, when to roll his hips just right—letting you feel the size of him, the hard, thick heat pressing up against you. you break the kiss, breathless. “since when do you do all that?”

virgin!nerdjo swallows thickly, ears burning red. “…i've been studying.”

૮꒰⸝⸝> - <⸝⸝꒱ა☆⋆。

for @miscellaneous-misty