Hammock.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML!1!1! 🥺😻😻

ଘ. warnings ⸝⸝ twitter p*rn links. consensual somnophilia. cunnilingus. car/public sex. cock warming. creampie. greedy ‘n needy getō >:| only cause it's his birfday. (17+).

birthday boy!getō.. he's selfish. so, so, so fucking selfish.

birthday boy!getō who wakes up bright and early with a cheesy smile and a hard-on in chastity; fat cock already throbbing with anticipation–already leaking with greed–and ready to make the pitiful excuse to fuck you as just an ‘early birthday gift’ for him; stuffing you full with the fat of his cock as you continue to try and sleep before prepping for his big day today.. link! + link!

birthday boy!getō who can't even keep his selfish and eager hands off of you while you try to cook his favorite breakfast for him.. his greedy hands snake around the soft curve of your hips, the tips of his fingers wisping across your fevered skin and nipping gentle kisses at the curvature of your neck, teasing you, reeling you into giving him the breakfast he actually wants this morning.. link! + link!

birthday boy!getō who whines to you selfishly for more of your special little gifts you promised him, even when you try taking him out for a cute little picnic birthday lunch, having to hear him whine and make the selfish excuses on how it's his birthday and deserves to fuck you on the way there and even at the picnic spot.. link! + link!

birthday boy!getō who makes you sit on his aching cock while he opens his gifts soon as you two arrive back home. he makes you warm up his cock with your pretty little pussy as he smiles and appreciates every gift you've given him; he's so thankful for you and everything you've done for him today, and he sits there with a giddy smile as you tease his sensitive cock till he finally pops a hot and heavy load deep into your soft cunt.. link! + link!

ᥫ᭡ ─ tags! ⸝⸝ @svgarslut , @gabzlovesu , @umiexe </3 , @earlesskitten , @misss-chrisss , @tojiswhoreeee , @ghoejo >.<

more levi visuals because we’re horny

xxx (fingering, spanking)

xxx (6:33) (fingering, guided masturbation, heavy overstimulation, impact play, vibrators)

xxx (3:00) (fingering, heavy overstimulation, impact play, spanking)

xxx (nipple play)

Baby Blue - Satoru Gojo x Reader x Suguru Geto

Warnings: Explicit smut, noncon/rape, threesome/double penetration, unhealthy relationships/manipulation

Word Count: 16,216

Ah, there’s nothing like traveling and family to kill inspiration. Regardless, here it is, as promised

//

Sweat trickled down the middle of your spine, curving with the arch of your perfectly upright posture. Your hands, neatly folded in your lap, weren’t shaking, but the stark white of your knuckles was telling enough of the anxiety keeping your body almost exhaustingly stiff.

This was why you didn’t put yourself out there. This was why you were careful, measuring the risk and reward of your actions before acting impulsively. This was the consequence and nothing you felt—fear, discomfort, uncertainty, betrayal—was as potent as the regret. You had a feeling when you showed up at Satoru Gojo’s door with lingerie under your dress and butterflies going wild in your stomach that something was wrong but you told yourself it was just nerves. After all, firsts were important and you’d been putting off your first with your boyfriend for longer than you thought he’d have the patience for. You weren’t trying to be rude, or to intrude. You were trying to surprise him because you knew Satoru liked surprises. But the door was open, that wasn’t your fault. The intentions you had going in weren’t morally good, but they certainly weren’t insidious, you weren’t trying to spy on Satoru or anything. It was by complete accident and horrible happenstance that you caught a glimpse of the guest he had over.

And after that, intentions didn’t matter. You had officially seen too much.

In a way, you might have rathered he was just cheating on you. That would hurt, but it wouldn’t be entirely out of character. You would cry and burn the various stupid souvenir trinkets he brought back for you and complain to your friends over a bottle of wine or five, but that would be it. Instead, Satoru greeted your intrusion with only a second of displeasure before it melted into knowing delight, enthusing about the wonderful surprise and ushering you to come in with his normal energy. Now you were stuck between two of the strongest sorcerers in the world. Well, Suguru Geto was no longer a jujutsu sorcerer, even if that was how you remembered him. Now he was a criminal, a curse user, a genuine villain, and, most importantly, Satoru Gojo’s arch enemy.

Keep reading

Too Much (Take Me Home)

Pairing: OPLA Sanji x Reader

Rating/Content Warnings: okay so I have no idea how to rate this. Like this is definitely not PG but it's also not really nsfw?? Honestly I'd recommend just reading the summary and deciding for yourself from there.

Summary: Reader is a sub who, due to the nature of y'know like being on a pirate ship constantly has not had a single chance to relax in weeks, especially since they don't really know any of their crewmates like that. Sanji steps in to save the day.

Disclaimer(s): so funny story - this is the single kinkiest thing I've written for this blog. And yet. It is also the least sexual thing I've written for this blog, that being not sexual at all. This is purely mentally-ill wish fulfillment emotional hurt-comfort d/s fluff. None of those words are in the bible but we persist nonetheless. A lot of d/s themes but like soft d/s if that makes sense, undernegotiated kink (there's definitely communication and it's p healthy but they're both idiots your honor), some petplay if you squint? Like not really but reader is on their knees and he calls them puppy a few times so do with that what you will.

There's a surprising amount of paperwork that comes with being the ship's chef.

One would think Sanji was always on his feet, whipping up something new- and yet here he is, late at night, sitting at a table that feels nautical miles away from where he really wants to be, the galley. But this was a part of the job- to catalogue ingredients, new recipes, what he could make and on what day for their supplies to last until the next town.

He's used to it being a solitary job, but then there's footsteps and a knock at the doorframe of his room and you walk in, shy uncertainty in your voice.

"...Sanji?"

You weren't sure about this, about any of this. But you were exhausted in a way that sleep couldn't fix, and it was obvious to you as to why.

You were a sub. There, you admitted it, got that embarrassing information out of the way as quickly as possible.

You - strong, strategic, stoic you - had been spinning out for the last few days. It had been too long since you'd been able to go under, since you'd joined the strawhats, to be precise, and it was starting to wear on you.

There was only so long you could go like this, tough and detached, protecting everyone else, taking care of the rest of your crew before yourself. It was constant, on the Merry. You really should've seen that coming with it being a pirate ship and all, but you felt like you had no room to breathe. Wake up, save the day, plan, eat and sleep only to keep your energy up to do it again the next day. You were always on, always performing the most capable version of yourself, and it was starting to wear you thin.

Sanji, for all his care and attention, hadn't seemed to notice. Even now, when you'd come to him like this. For that, a part of you was thankful.

He can't even hope to hide the way his face lights up when you walk in, quickly grabbing a towel next to him and wiping off his hands on instinct, like there should be oil or cooking wine or flour on them. There isn't, but other times there is. And there will be again, eventually. Better safe than sorry, he supposes.

"What could possibly bring such an angel down to me so late?"

He questions with a charming smile, cocking his head at you fondly. You roll your eyes at his immediate antics, blushing.

"Ah. Straight to business, huh?"

You laugh nervously, looking away and scratching the back of your neck with a sheepish blush.

"...can I stay with you? While you work?"

He squints at you curiously and then nods, smile blooming on his face the way it always does when you're around. For such a simple request, he doesn't know why you look so embarrassed.

Sure, the signs of embarrassment aren't as obvious on someone like you- but he can still see them. The way your eyes avoid his, the slight awkwardness in your stance as you shift on your feet.

"Of course, love. I'd never turn down your wonderful company."

You take a relieved breath and nod, looking down. For a moment you stand still, trying to make your feet move. Is this really such a good idea?

You take the leap before you can second guess yourself, walking over to where he sits at the desk. You pass the other seats and he squints curiously, having expected you to take one. Instead, you come straight to his, sinking down to your knees next to him and sitting back on your heels, resting your head on the side of his thigh.

Oh.

Oh, wow.

His eyes widen when you settle on the floor next to him, his face a pink hue as he looks down at you. Still, he didn't move. Instead, he gently brushes some of your hair back, looking at you with confusion.

"Are you...what are you doing, love?"

You swallow thickly, blinking your eyes back open to look up at him pleadingly, face pink.

"...can I stay here? I- I'll explain if you want, I promise, just...please."

He chuckles, an intrigued little smile gracing his features as he looks down at you nods. "Go ahead, explain. You can stay here as long as you'd like, darling."

"I need..."

You start to speak before backing up your explanation, embarrassment showing in the way your speech jumps back and forth between thoughts.

"I've been exhausted, recently. I'm sleeping fine, I just...sometimes I need to- to relax a certain, uh- a certain way. And since we've been on the ship, I haven't been able to, uh..."

You squeeze your eyes shut with embarrassment, taking a deep breath and turning to press your face against his thigh to hide your blush.

"...subspace. I'm- I'm a sub. And I haven't been able to go into subspace for a while, and I know this is a lot to ask you and I'm sorry, I just- I need to be like this for a while, please."

Immediately, your behavior starts to make sense. It would be hard to be a sub on a crew like this, constantly having to fight and stay in control. You likely haven't had the chance to submit to anyone in ages, if only for safety reasons. After all, you're all wanted. But with the natural way you dropped to your knees below him, put your head on his thigh like second nature, it all clicks.

He looks at you for a moment and blinks, his expression unreadable.

"...I think I understand what you mean. You want to be good for me, yes? I don't mind that, you know. You're quite pretty like this." He gently drags the back of his hand across your face with a smile before adding, almost as an afterthought, "Sweet thing."

You shiver at his words and nod in confirmation, letting your head fall back to the side to rest against his thigh.

This is...it's the last thing he'd expect from you, really. You're so tough and capable and independent, so the fact that you're a sub? The more he thinks about it the more it makes him blush- that someone like you was even capable of submitting, let alone craved it, let alone again would come to him, pleading for him to let you kneel at his feet for a while as he works. He gently runs a hand along your back, the corner of his mouth twitching as he smirks.

"I want you to stay like this until you're satisfied, alright darling?" He smiles and takes a look back at the paperwork on the table "...Are you comfortable there?"

You nod, heart fluttering when he says he wants you to stay like this until you feel better. It's sweet and gentle and so very Sanji, but at the same time, it sounds almost like an instruction. Like a command. It makes your cheeks flush and your mind stop whirring for a second in a way you'd missed so badly from when friends or partners who knew about your submissiveness back on land would put you under. The comfort of not having to think of anything besides doing what you're told- being good, always being good. You'd missed this.

"I need you to relax for me, okay? Just...focus on enjoying yourself, yeah? I have to get this work done, so I'm counting on you to stay right here. Can you do that for me?"

You nod almost immediately and he grins at the obedience, going back to his work with a satisfaction mirrored in you.

Something to do. A task. Something to be good at, good enough to make him proud. It settles your mind as you lean your head against him, the slight twinge of pain from kneeling on the wooden floor grounding you pleasantly.

He could get used to this, he thinks- you sitting at his feet next to him like a puppy, one of his hands scratching through your hair absentmindedly as he works through his paperwork and supply numbers. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as he works, the sound of parchment paper a pleasant constant. Your breathing was also rather soothing, a nice background to his quiet humming as he writes. He feels as though he could listen to it all night and never grow tired of it.

He makes a mental note of how each different touch effects you- cataloging your reactions, what you like, what seems to make your mind dissolve. He finds a particular sweet spot behind your ears that leaves you a shivering puddle when he scratches softly with his nails, a spot at the crown of your head that makes you purr, that any light touch closer to your neck provokes a wobbly, ticklish smile but that you don't make any move to stop him. You seem completely zoned out, dazed and pliant and warm under his fingers.

A minute passes like that, then five, then ten. He looks back down to check on you and feels his heart stall in his chest.

"Oh, darling..." He whispers softly, blushing at the sight of you. Hazy and dazed with near-reverence in your eyes. He stops writing, setting down the pen and reaching down to lift your chin up, looking you directly in the eyes.

"Look at me. Please."

You perch your chin on his thigh obediently to look up at him from your position on the floor. It's the most relaxed he's ever seen you- shoulders dropped like a tremendous weight's been lifted from you, limbs like lead as doe eyes blink up at him blearily, expression glazed-over and vulnerable and soft, softer than he thought you were capable of.

You were a tremendous warrior, someone feared across the seas, and yet your head was on his thigh, sitting at his feet below him.

You, who could kill him in a fraction of a second if you wanted.

He sighs, a little breathless. He's so tempted to lean down and kiss you, but he shakes his head slowly. Not now, not yet. There's something else he needs to do first.

His hand runs through your hair as he looks into your eyes almost like a nurse would with a concussed patient, checking up on you to make sure you're okay.

"Can you speak? It doesn't have to be a lot, just...say something for me, love."

"C'n speak."

You answer softly, obedient nearly to a fault, your usually confident voice gone soft and mumbly. It's perfect. Christ, all of it is perfect.

"'verything's just kinda...fuzzy right now. 's okay, it's nice."

His eyes are glued to you as his hand gently runs through your hair, scratching behind your ear. There's something on his mind, something he can't quite place or figure out yet.

"You look so beautiful right now." He admits gently, his voice still a low whisper. "Can you tell me why- why you're like this?"

Well, wasn't that a hell of a question? Why are you - always that emphasis in your head, though he doesn't mean it like that - of all people, why are you?

A few moments pass before you say anything. You don't really know what you would say, not until it's already coming out of your mouth.

"...cause 'm not allowed to be."

It's the only answer you can think of when you can finally convince yourself to speak.

"I- I have to know everything. All the time. Be in charge and make the tough decisions and stay on top of everything and make sure everyone's okay-"

The words come slowly at first, but the longer you speak the quicker they spill out, rambling like it's something that's been festering for weeks that you desperately need to get off your chest.

You cut yourself off with a deep breath when you realize the breakneck speed with which you're ranting, simplifying your answer down to it's most basic terms.

"...I don't get to be weak."

He can't help but feel his breath catch at that reply. "I don't get to", like it's something you want but aren't allowed. He can so easily see that side of you now that you mentioned it, but he'd always just ignored it. It seemed inconsequential. Like that part just...wasn't you.

It strikes him then that that was probably on purpose, on your part. You wanted them to disregard it.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he recontectualizes all your stress, all the moments of you snapping at the crew over little slights, the more curious he gets as to how and why you got to be like this in the first place.

"There isn't anything weak about this." he pushes back sternly as soon as he can get his voice to work. "This is...this is the most courageous thing I could imagine. I'm so proud of you."

The words hit you like a brick and you close your eyes, taking a shaky breath as they play on repeat in your head.

"I'm so proud of you."

You can feel yourself crumbling at his affection, the voracity of his care. How adamant he is about understanding that sometimes you just needed to be below someone else.

He cups your cheek in his hand softly, angling your face to look up at him. The more you let your guard down, the warmer his chest feels looking at you. He'd never seen you open up this much, it makes his heart ache. He smiles at the sight of you looking up at him so prettily, lightly tapping the tip of your nose.

"...there you are."

The words are barely a whisper, full of pride and admiration and pleasant disbelief. It's a shame how much you try to prove your strength, your resilience when there isn't a reason for it.

You'd always been enough for him. Always been strong enough, tough enough, useful enough. Always, always, always.

You'd never needed to be anything more than who you were, and getting to see you like this...it's like he's seeing you for the first time all over again.

"It's an honor to finally meet you."

All you can manage is a soft huff of breath, his words knocking the breath from your lungs. It's almost a sob, except that there are no tears. You have no idea why. Or why you almost sobbed in the first place. Why are there no tears?

"It's an honor to finally meet you."

The words cut through you like water. He still wants you? Even like this- emotionally stunted, a needy mess, pathetic and fragile and shaking?

"The way you are right now is nothing short of beautiful. Everything about you is lovely. It's...it isn't easy letting go like this, is it?" He muses, a hand resting on your hair, his thumb running along your face.

You sniffle quietly and blink back tears, nodding your head. It's progress even getting you to agree.

He knows you aren't upset by his words and so your unshed tears don't bother him. Knows that you aren't used to this, aren't going to be good at believing or accepting it immediately. He knows it'll take time to get to a place where words like that don't phase you anymore. So for now, your agreement is more than enough.

"...can we stay here for a while? Please?"

You break through his train of thought with a cautious whisper, voice small. A surge of pride shoots through him at your words, so fucking proud. If agreeing with his words is difficult, asking for what you want is worse. It's a hell of a first step.

"Of course we can. How long do you want to be like this, sweetheart?"

Ah. And there's the problem, isn't it? The "what do you want?" Really and truly, you have no idea.

"I don't mind much, it's..."

You trail off softly, hiding your face against his thigh in embarrassment as your blush spreads to the tips of your ears.

"...'s however long you want me to stay. It...it helps, letting you decide things for me."

The admission is a shy one, but it's not like it's something he couldn't've seen coming. It makes sense that instructions and praise would go hand in hand to make someone like you feel safe, small, protected.

"...I don't want you to move, okay?" He finally decides, lifting his hand from your hair to brush it behind your ear, fingernails scratching gently.

"Just let me take care of you for a while."

You take a deep breath at his words like the air's cleared for the first time in decades, finally having something to ground yourself on.

He makes a note of that in his head, too- you like a sense of order, when he makes decisions for you or gives you instructions to follow. Something simple that you can focus on even in your dazed, vulnerable state of mind, a task you can accomplish.

His hand continues to run through your hair gently, thumb making little figure 8's at the crown of your head.

"Do you want me to hold you? Or do you prefer being on your knees?"

He doesn't look at you when he asks, pen scratching away at his charts with his eyes on the table. Somehow, that helps- the idea that he's still working, that you're not too inconvenient of a distraction.

The simple choice you're given between two options makes everything feel easy and calm and hazy, and your voice is quiet when you answer.

"On- on my knees. Makes me feel more- more..."

You trail off, trying to explain but unable to find the words.

"More vulnerable." He finishes for you, smiling as it finally clicks. A position of submission, giving up your power to him.

Undoubtably, you're more vulnerable on your knees. You'd typically never let anyone near you in this state, not since you joined the strawhats, but with him, it feels...safe.

"I like it too." He admits, his hand still on you as his voice slowly trails off.

Your features smooth out in relief at his understanding and you nod, leaning into him and nuzzling his thigh for a moment to show your appreciation.

He has to look away for a moment, as seeing you nuzzle against him triggers an almost visceral reaction he wasn't expecting. His face flushes a bit more, a small smile brightening face as he leans in his chair, his expression adoring as he looks down at you. He reaches out for your ear, scratching gently at it with his fingernail.

You're so soft like this he swears he might fall in love.

"...can we do this more often, when you want to relax?"

Your eyes widen with a surprised blush at all the question as your brain shorts out for a moment.

He really...he's really willing to make this a regular thing? He isn't just doing this to humor you? It seems almost impossible to believe that this isn't some kind of weird burden you'd pushed onto him.

"...yeah. I'd- 'd like that."

You mumble breathlessly, clearing your throat as you look down.

He's already looking for another command, a simple task he can praise you for. Something about telling you what to do - you, who could slit his throat in an instant - he's quickly figuring out that he likes it. Quite a bit, actually.

He thinks back to the little things he's noticed about you- you prefer standing with your back to walls, facing the exit of whatever room you're in. You can only fall asleep when someone else on the crew is still awake. You're always chewing toothpicks, sucking on the end of your pen-

Wait.

Do you have an- could he- maybe...?

He hums in thought, grin spreading wider as he looks down at you once more. Gently, he lifts your chin so you're looking directly at him.

"Open your mouth," He instructs softly, almost in a whisper. Curious.

A soft blush blossoms across your ears but other than that you don't question it, far enough into subspace that all that matters is following instructions, being good. You don't even think before parting your lips obediently, looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes. Like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

Bingo.

It was an oral fixation, your constant need to suck on a toothpick or the end of your pen. He couldn't fully understand, but he could relate- he always felt safer with a cigarette in his mouth.

He gently pushes his thumb in your mouth, taking a deep breath as he waits for your reaction to the audacious move. You wanted him to make you feel small, safe, vulnerable. He's more than happy to do that for you.

At your service, now and always.

Your blush spreads out to your cheeks and your eyes widen a fraction in surprise, but as soon as you manage to process that he really just did that, you close your lips gently around his thumb, eyes glazing over as you look up at him for approval.

You're so beautiful when you're like this, all raw and vulnerable and desperate to be good. He hums, eyes glued to you with a loving gaze as he takes in just how stunning you are in this moment.

"Submission suits you." He praises softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You're so...so sweet like this. So lovely when you don't think so much, puppy."

The last word is meant jokingly, gently poking fun at the way you're kneeling next to him, head on his thigh. Your reaction, though...that throws him. The way you squeeze your eyes closed and your blush darkens to a pure pink when he calls you "puppy", the way he can feel you whine around his thumb at the term as you melt, shoulders slumping- and that's certainly interesting, isn't it?

"Aww, puppy likes that, doesn't she?"

He can't help but smile as he takes his thumb out of your mouth for a moment before pushing two fingers in instead. Your cheeks flush when he does so, those puppy dog eyes glancing back at him with so much emotion it's almost overwhelming. The name is fitting, he supposes.

You flush further with embarrassment, though you know it makes no logical sense. Your mind doesn't seem to want to quiet itself, echoing judgements of your current position- weak, needy, pathetic. The shy feeling of poorly restrained shame claws up your chest even as you try to dismiss it. You shouldn't feel so embarrassed by this- Sanji clearly isn't bothered by it, doesn't think it's odd, hell, if anything he seems like he's enjoying himself. Yet you, brain all tied up in knots, can't seem to look at him.

So instead you try to focus on other things, like the comforting contrast of the warmth from his fingers and the cool metal of his ring pressing down softly on your tongue.

He can sense the embarrassment from you, though he can't understand it. He'd seen you at your worst, and this certainly wasn't it.

"...there's nothing wrong with allowing someone to take care of you, you know. I actually quite like seeing you like this." He says, the words falling out of his mouth before he even thinks.

Almost as if they'd been waiting to come out this whole time.

His reassurance only makes your blush intensify, but this time it's not bad.

It isn't shame, not really. It's more pleasantly flustering. If embarrassment were a spectrum, this...feeling would fall on the 'good' end of it.

Sensing it's a vulnerable topic, he lets the reassurance hang, not giving you enough time to think about it before changing the subject with a fond, knowing chuckle.

"You like the ring, don't you?"

He doesn't say, 'it gives you something to focus on so your mind doesn't wander too far' or 'the temperature brings you back down and grounds you here away from those nasty thoughts', but you both know that's what it is.

There's something warm in the way he so nonchalantly reveals that he's been cataloging every little detail of your reactions- the spot behind your ears, the fact you like being called 'puppy', and now the fact that you like the feeling of his ring pressing down on your tongue. Your mind is in enough of a submissive haze that you can't bring yourself to lie to him, instead nodding your head in agreement.

A small, fond smile graces his lips as his thumb moves up to your lower lip, gently prodding at your chin to bring your attention back to him.

"You can take breaks if you want. I know the ring's cold."

His voice is a warm, intimate whisper, eyes watching every movement you make, every twitch and hum catalogued in his mind.

The care in it makes your heart feel warm and you keep his fingers where they are, nipping lightly at him for a moment as if to let him know without words that you're enjoying this, that you don't need a break. It's so fucking cute his heart melts.

He can't help himself any more, pulling his fingers from your mouth. You nearly whine at the loss but then - then, oh, then - he presses a small, soft kiss to your lips and the whole world falls apart, his lips pressed tenderly to you as if you're something so much more than the sum of your parts. Your mind works on overdrive- it's such pure affection and approval and he kissed you, so that means you must've been good, right? That he was proud?

Little do you know, he's just as in awe as you are. In awe that you're really here with him, like this. That you'd ever let him do this. Everything about you is special to him, special because it's yours. Just like your eyes, the sound of your voice, the heart beating erratically in your chest. Before he can think about it he's pulling his ring off his finger, wiping the remains of your spit from it, and sliding it gently on your ring finger.

You cock your head up at him and squint in confusion and he smiles, voice soft like he's afraid anything stronger than a whisper would break the moment he's worked so hard for.

"Keep it, puppy. Then, next time you...need my help like this, you can give it back to me. Yeah?"

He punctuates his words by lifting your hand up like it's precious, placing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles.

The promise sparks a warmth in your chest, the casual mention of "next time" like there's no doubt at all in his mind that there will be a next time, the way he touches you like you're fragile, stares at you with pink cheeks and blown eyes like you're the sun and the moon and all the pinpoints in the night sky.

You should've jumped overboard when you had the chance, you think, because you've ended up drowning either way.

Eventually you can convince your muscles to work enough to nod, face blooming in fireworks of pink and orange and red as your words come back to you, though your voice is still small and hazy and breathless.

"...yeah, okay. Next time."

Could you write a short fic for Zoros reaction to his s/o falling down some stairs (but she is ok just bruised) please. BTW love your writing

Characters: Zoro x female reader CW: none :) Total word count: 1k

Slip and Fall

One second you were upright, walking down the stairs.The next moment, you were staring up at the ceiling. 

The pain caught up with you quickly, and you groaned from the aches that riddled your body. Judging by the pain in your back, you must’ve slid down the stairs. Nothing seemed to be broken, but you were certain you’d have a few bruises to show for your misstep. 

You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to recenter yourself and minimize the pain.

“What the hell was-” Zoro’s irritated voice cut off abruptly, and you braced yourself for some kind of cheap joke at your expense. 

But nothing came. You were certain he hadn’t left, but he also made no move to get closer to you. Or do anything. 

“Y/N?” Zoro’s voice came out as a harsh whisper. 

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” You breathed out a laugh. The pain seemed to be getting worse the more you lay there. “Help me up, will you?”

“No!” Zoro finally moved, rushing over to you to keep you still. “You shouldn’t move. It could-you could-I don’t want you to-”

“Zoro,” you groaned, finally opening your eyes and instantly meeting his. 

His eyes were so full of worry. They raked over your body, searching for any sign of injury. And you realized that Zoro was truly scared. 

Naturally, his fear made you panic. 

“What?” you tried to lift your head, but Zoro refused to let you move. 

“Chopper needs to check for a spinal injury. If you landed wrong…” He shook his head, as if he were shaking a thought from his head. 

“Zoro, I’m fine.” Though your back was probably blossoming with bruises, you were sure you’d survive.

“Let me go get Chopper. Just stay here for a minute. Please.” His last word was barely a whisper. It was that word, that small act of begging, that kept you anchored to where you laid. 

“Alright, alright.” You closed your eyes. “You fuss too much.”

“I do not-” You could hear him clench his jaw in frustration. “Just stay still for a minute!”

His hurried footsteps receded, and you could hear distant shouts from off in the distance, followed by footsteps coming back to you quickly. 

“She slipped and fell,” Zoro said softly, and you could hear Chopper set down his medical kit and open it. 

“Can you open your eyes for me?” Chopper asked. You opened them. 

“Do you know your name?”

You laughed. “Of course I do!” 

Chopper and Zoro didn’t join your laughter, so you gave your full name to the doctor. 

The reindeer nodded. “And do you know where you are?”

You sighed. “The Sunny. The Grand Line. Don’t ask me where on the Grand Line, because I wouldn’t even know that on my best day.”

Chopper gave a slight smile at that answer, but Zoro was still watching you from a few feet away. He was tucked back in a corner, almost as if he was scared of you. 

“Did you hear me?” Chopper asked, waving a hand in front of your face. 

You blinked. You hadn’t heard his question. You hadn’t even realized he was speaking. 

“What is five plus five?” Chopper asked again. 

“Oh. Ten,” you answered quickly, taking your eyes off of Zoro for only a moment before finding him again. He looked so pale, and his mouth was pressed in such a tight line as he watched Chopper. You opened your mouth to speak, but Chopper spoke first. 

“Zoro, can you come help her sit up? I’d like to check her back for any signs of injury.”

“Chopper, I told you already! I’m fine!” Your words were accompanied with a groan as you tried to sit up on your own. 

Zoro was suddenly there, gently guiding you into a sitting position. You rolled back your shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness of your muscles. Zoro only watched you, his face still hard as stone. 

“Zoro.” Your fingers cupped his face, forcing his eyes to lock onto yours. “I’m here. I’m okay, really.”

“She’s right,” Chopper agreed, looking at you. “Some icky bruises for a few days, and you probably have a minor concussion, but you’re okay.”

“See?” You smiled. “I’m okay.”

Zoro nodded and pulled his face away from your grip. The panic in his eyes has subsided, but only slightly. 

“I probably need a lot of bedrest though, right Chopper?” You gave a slight nudge to the reindeer. 

“Huh? You don’t-” Chopper caught your wink and worried glance at Zoro. “Oh! Yes! She needs lots of rest. And she shouldn’t be alone…because of the concussion! Zoro, can you look after her?”

Zoro narrowed his eyes slightly, and you gave him a sheepish grin and you held out your hands. “Help me up?” you asked. 

He did you one better, gently picking you up off the ground. He was careful to avoid the sensitive spots on your back. How he knew exactly where they were, you weren’t sure, but you were thankful he was considerate. 

You were quick to pull him into bed and snuggle into his chest. Even if it wasn’t the most comfortable for your sore body, you were happy to be close to him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.” His response was short, clipped. 

“Okay,” you hummed, curling in closer to him. 

A few minutes passed in comforting silence, and you were almost asleep when he kissed the top of your head. 

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered hoarsely. “I thought I lost you and I just…I couldn’t go through that again. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t. I’m right here,” you murmured softly into his chest, letting his warmth lull you into a deep sleep.

Baby Blue - Satoru Gojo x Reader x Suguru Geto

Warnings: Explicit smut, noncon/rape, threesome/double penetration, unhealthy relationships/manipulation

Word Count: 16,216

Ah, there’s nothing like traveling and family to kill inspiration. Regardless, here it is, as promised

//

Sweat trickled down the middle of your spine, curving with the arch of your perfectly upright posture. Your hands, neatly folded in your lap, weren’t shaking, but the stark white of your knuckles was telling enough of the anxiety keeping your body almost exhaustingly stiff.

This was why you didn’t put yourself out there. This was why you were careful, measuring the risk and reward of your actions before acting impulsively. This was the consequence and nothing you felt—fear, discomfort, uncertainty, betrayal—was as potent as the regret. You had a feeling when you showed up at Satoru Gojo’s door with lingerie under your dress and butterflies going wild in your stomach that something was wrong but you told yourself it was just nerves. After all, firsts were important and you’d been putting off your first with your boyfriend for longer than you thought he’d have the patience for. You weren’t trying to be rude, or to intrude. You were trying to surprise him because you knew Satoru liked surprises. But the door was open, that wasn’t your fault. The intentions you had going in weren’t morally good, but they certainly weren’t insidious, you weren’t trying to spy on Satoru or anything. It was by complete accident and horrible happenstance that you caught a glimpse of the guest he had over.

And after that, intentions didn’t matter. You had officially seen too much.

In a way, you might have rathered he was just cheating on you. That would hurt, but it wouldn’t be entirely out of character. You would cry and burn the various stupid souvenir trinkets he brought back for you and complain to your friends over a bottle of wine or five, but that would be it. Instead, Satoru greeted your intrusion with only a second of displeasure before it melted into knowing delight, enthusing about the wonderful surprise and ushering you to come in with his normal energy. Now you were stuck between two of the strongest sorcerers in the world. Well, Suguru Geto was no longer a jujutsu sorcerer, even if that was how you remembered him. Now he was a criminal, a curse user, a genuine villain, and, most importantly, Satoru Gojo’s arch enemy.

Keep reading

I have already found impersonators, so please remember! That the accounts linked on my Portfolio site, are the ONLY accounts I use!

https://www.clownillustration.com/ ! (Twitter, Tumblr, Picarto, Instagram, and Ko-fi!)

Please do not impersonate me and delete comments stating it, I will report the accounts. Please be careful too- Although I have been vocal on all of my accounts, this is my Instagram!

Thank you!

hello favorite writer !! can u do megumi w 46 in the kisses section ? i hope u r doing well and i love ur works :)

46. angry kisses (M. FUSHIGURO) (wc: 650+)

part of L’s 1K event!

“Megumi?”

He can practically hear the quiver of your lip before he sees it, turning around at the sound of your voice calling out his name. He should be scared, petrified, of the wrath he knows he’s about to face. He should be shaking in fear and anticipation of the anger he knows you hold for him right now, but he isn't.

If anything, in some sick way, he’s relieved. Grateful to even be hearing your voice after the stupid stunt he just pulled on his mission. Even if your voice was laced with fury and resentment, it was still yours. 

When he fully turns and sees you, he can practically feel the heat from the anger radiating off of you. If it was possible, he’s absolutely certain that steam would be coming out of your ears. You wear a livid yet weary expression, one he’s become far too accustomed to these days. And again he finds himself cursing his heart for swooning at the sight of your angered frame, because again, it’s yours. 

Suddenly you’re walking towards him, quickly and motivated as you close the space between the two of you. He expects a light shove, some tears, maybe even a flick on the forehead. He expects your desperate pleas of hurt and betrayal, or even worse, the silent treatment. What he doesn't expect but somehow still receives, is your lips desperately on his, inhaling all of him as if you might never get the chance to taste him again. 

“You’re so stupid,” you whisper between the cracks of his bloodied pout. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I know,” he agrees, and he means it. He knows how foolish it was to risk his life on a whim like that, without saying goodbye to you or kissing you one last time. He thinks he’d kill you if you did the same to him. 

“I know,” he repeats (more so to himself) into your mouth, lips still feverishly on one another. 

He’s not sure what he did to deserve this kind of reaction, but he’s more than thankful for it. You are mad at him, he can tell from the harsh insults imbedded in your kisses, but you’re still kissing him. So how mad can you really be? 

“How could you do that to me?” 

Kiss. 

“Something could’ve happened to you.” 

Kiss. 

“You’re so selfish.” 

Kiss. 

“I would have never done that to you.” 

Kiss. 

Your hands are clinging and grasping onto any part of him they can reach: his sore arms, disheveled hair, tiresome back. Poking, prodding, feeling him. Making sure he’s alive and here, in your arms and stupid as ever. 

“Not that I’m complaining or anything but,” Megumi decides to try his luck, as he slips his tongue into your mouth for a second before pulling away once more to quietly mumble, “if you’re so mad at me, why are you kissing me?”

And he almost regrets asking, because for the first time since you walked into his embrace, your lips leave his as you pull away to look him in the eyes. 

“Because I need to feel you,” you pine and he feels the love in your voice—it encompasses him like a familiar scent of warmth and home. Your eyes burn into his as you continue, “Make sure you’re still with me, even though you’re an asshole.”

He lets out a soft chuckle at your crude insult and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more loved than he does in this moment. For someone to scream at him, hold him accountable, want more for him, it feels like a blessing which he doesn’t deserve. 

“I’m sorry,” he returns, forehead resting on yours as his large and calloused hand rubs sweet circles on the center of your back. 

“No, you’re not,” you mumble as your lips find his again, needing him close. You feel him smile into the kiss as he grabs your face to deepen his movements.

“Kinda hard to be when you’re kissing me like this,” he admits with a grin. “Not exactly a punishment.”

NOTE: f- favori- favorite writer????? imagine me clutching my chest and blushing bc thats whats happing rn. thank u for all of ur support / reading my works / requesting this for the sweetest stupid boy ever! i hope you are doing amazing and that this makes u smile 

Sanji Week Day 3: Stealth Black

❥ SHANKS X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: forced orgasms, some yandere vibes, dub-con to be safe, very inappropriate use of conqueror's haki, power dynamics (captain/crew), praise, creampie, Shanks is so mean but so good and I would die for him

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

“You’re gonna cum for me, darlin’, even if I have to take it from you.”

The weight of his words curl around your throat like a vice, blood pumping in your ears you until can barely hear his boisterous laugh. 

The smile he gives is so cheshire, so oddly genuine, it makes a shiver of fear run down the back of your neck. Perhaps it’s actually pleasure, but the emotions are too entangled for your brain to piece apart your state of mind. 

He’s not letting you go this time, not until he gets what he wants. 

“Shanks,” you plead, nails gripping into the black fabric of his cloak, “we shouldn’t, you’re my captain, and I—”

“And your captain knows what’s best for you. Promise.”

The playful lilt in his voice is disarming. 

He always lures you in so easily, and usually you can squirm away, calm your raging heart and pretend like you’re not the object of his desires. Because you shouldn’t be, you can’t be, you’re honor bound to serve him as your captain and you refuse to let lust cloud your relationship to Shanks. He helped make you a pirate. You’re more than a mistress.

Yet he’s already stripped you bare for him tonight, easy work for one of the most powerful men on the seas.

Warm lips press into your cheek as you turn your face from him, gritting your teeth as you deny his kiss.

Shanks chuckles in the face of your defiance, squishing his fingers into your cheeks to make you look at him. 

“You know, you really are cute, thinking you can stop me. Besides, don’t you want to follow Captain’s orders, hm? That’s why I picked you—you’re so loyal, always willing to please. But you should please and be pleased.”

His eyes close with a sincere smile, the pink scars nearly shining in the firelight of his room.

Perhaps you do forget sometimes how weak you are compared to him, to the man who can cut down enemies with a single gaze. 

Trapped between his colossal body and the wall, you have nowhere to run, no way to slink off and keep only ghosts of his touches. He’s going to make you feel every moment.

“Want me to show you how good I can make you feel?” 

“Trust me, I know, I know how good you’d feel, but I can’t—”

“You have no idea.”

Somehow he feels closer, as if the sun-kissed skin of his chest from his parted shirt is already blending into yours. He is darkness clouding over you, engulfing you.

He cups your chin with his hand, big fingers spilling down onto your neck. He slants his mouth over yours before you can protest, moving plush lips until you can’t help but moan. Spiced rum, aged and smooth, greets you when his tongue slides between parted lips. He kisses like a dance, like a back and forth that he leads.

“Breathe,” he whispers, and you don’t have to ask why. You sense his conqueror’s haki in the air before you feel the power lick at your skin, dragging and pulling and hot. 

“Cum for me.”

Lightning quick, your tummy tightens, the pleasure centers of your brain on overload as he overtakes you. Desire boils down to your cunt like a poisonous liquid heat, unbearable, sinful, yet so, so blissful as your pussy flutters and you fall over the crest of orgasm. 

“Fuck! Oh, fuck you, fuck, fuck…” Your eyes squeeze closed as the ecstasy is literally ripped from your body, like he somehow sunk his hand inside your core and extracted all the delight he craves. 

“Doesn’t that feel good?”

You can’t help but nod, because yes, it does, as if pleasure is bursting like supernovas underneath your skin. Your hands are clinging to him, one around the back of his neck, the other beneath his shirt, like you can’t help but be closer to the source of your heat.

“Shanks, I…” your tongue is so thick in your mouth, searching for words you can’t think of.

“Now imagine just how fucking good you’ll feel when you do that on my cock.” 

“Please, oh, god, please.”

His famous laugh greets your ears and you’re almost knocked back to the reality of who has you in his grasp. 

“That’s my girl.” 

You’re in his bed before you know it, eyes glassy at the sight of his naked body. You knew he’d be beautiful, but the actual view of him, on his knees, pumping his cock in his hand while between your legs has you whining.

“What’s going on in your pretty little head? Tell me.” 

“I…want you, so badly, and I-I’m sorry for pushing you away. I never—”

He shushes you, takes his hand from his cock so he can brush the back of his finger across your cheek, “You were just doing what you thought was right. Didn’t wanna just be my plaything, did you? I know you wanted to be my strong little pirate, but you can be both.” 

“Promise?” 

“Swear it.” He grins like a little boy as he mockingly draws an X across his heart with his finger. 

How can someone so deadly be so adorable?

Your instincts are flaring again, telling you to run, that once he sinks his claws into you, you’ll only ever be his. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Maybe that doesn’t sound so bad, especially not with how good it feels when he buries his hand between your thighs, fingers playing in your wetness. 

Shanks is equal parts messy and methodical, swirling his fingers around in your slick folds before rubbing his thumb over your already sensitive clit. You cry out, back arching and nails digging so deeply in his pillows you swear you hear fabric rip.

“Think I made you wet enough to take my cock already, don’t you?” 

To prove his point, he slides his slick-drenched fingers between your lips, letting you taste yourself. You nod your affirmation as you suck against his skin, his eyes shining as you wrap your tongue around his fingers.

You eye his cock between his legs, preening at the thought of having him inside you. His cock is pretty, fat, already leaking and veins straining beneath silken skin. Red curls crawl up his toned stomach and you nearly drool around his fingers. 

All you ever wanted was to be a pirate, but the sight of your captain’s cock has you content to be a whore.

“Been dreamin’ about you in my sheets ever since I found you, darlin’. Knew you were the one for me, my perfect girl.”

“Oh please,” you gasp as he draws his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down to your tit so he can pinch your nipple, “you know what praise does to me, Shanks.”

“Of course I do,” he sing-songs, grasping his dick and pushing his tip between your folds. He presses in, a cant of his hips shoving his cock halfway into your dripping hole. Your head falls back at the stretch, cooing at the feel of him. 

Shanks is clearly done chasing you, mindset moved to capture, to take. He bottoms out and immediately starts moving, grinning as he watches your pussy lips drag along his length. 

He wolf-whistles at the sight, making you flush with a strange mixture of embarrassment and pride. “Look at that pretty fucking pussy. So slutty already for me.”

Strong fingers push your thigh back, spreading you wide as he starts his pace. 

“Now,” Shanks clicks his tongue against his teeth, “let’s see what it feels like when I make you cum around my cock.” 

“You don’t, ah,” you gasp as his cockhead prods against a soft spot, “h-have to make me, I’ll—” 

“Shh, I’ll take care of you, baby. Let me make you feel good, yeah?” 

There’s no time to think, not with how fast he acts, a simple look into your eyes has you shattering until you scream. The pleasure claws from your depths all over again, more intense now that your cunt has his fat cock to convulse around. You suck him in deep as you fall, bliss blooming over every nerve ending. Your toes curl, your nails cut into his shoulders, your stomach nearly hurts from the twisting of your orgasm. 

“God damn, you feel so fucking good when you do that, get so tight around me.” 

“Sh-Sha—mhm, fuck,” you try to protest, to say something, but the way his body moves into yours is like the mesmeric waves, lulling you into a headspace of drifting euphoria. 

He’s all over you—hand in your hair, tongue sliding down your neck, lips sucking at the fat of your tits, teeth scraping along your curves. He’s all encompassing, snaking his arm behind your back until you're pressed against his thick chest and rocking with every thrust.

The orgasms have made you numb, all you feel is pure carnality, like now you just exist to fuck and be fucked.

For a moment you wonder if he’s still forcing it on you, but you decide you don’t care. He’s the only one who can make you feel like this, haki or no.

Shanks brushes his nose down your cheek, lips hot and wet as he kisses your skin, “Touch me, baby, be with me.” 

Like puppetry, your hands trace his musculature, taking note of how his shoulders roll with every push and how his abdominal muscles stiffen whenever your cunt spasms from pleasure.

You kiss over the freckles on his shoulder, down to the thick bicep he no longer wraps in bandages. 

He groans as your lips get close to where his arm used to be, a purr from deep in his chest like you’re too close to something vulnerable.

“Gonna take from you again, darlin.’ Gotta feel your cunt suck me dry.” 

“N-no I can—I can do it, I can cum for you, promise.” 

“Mhm, where’s the fun in that when I can just make you?”

His hand snakes around your body, letting you sink into the bed free of his hold. He teases your clit just because he can, because he likes watching you wiggle and writhe and whine beneath him.

You suck in a sob, “Please, just a little more, more, and I—”

Shanks’ haki feels like the warm licks of familiar fire. He burns because you let him too close, stared too long at the flames. 

You’re sure he purposely brings the assault of his conqueror's power on slower, lets it bleed and blend with the ecstasy building from the sensitive pressure on your clit. 

This crest is bigger, fuller, like you’ve been thrown from the Red Force into the toiling dark ocean. Only it’s boiling, scorching and tugging the pleasure from deep within your belly. 

“Oh god,” you throw your head back and whine, “too hot.” 

Shanks groans deep from his chest, fingers pausing on your clit as he feels you cum around him. His thighs shake, cock twitching and throbbing. Mean fingers dig into the softness of your belly like he’s clinging to sanity, holding himself back just enough to be in control. 

“One more, baby.”

He starts thrusting again, a slow grind into your depths that has red curls kneading into your clit. You feel him in your guts, your heart, like the beat of blood in your veins. 

“C-can’t, god, can’t, please.” Please no. Please yes. You’re back in an entanglement of emotions where no way is up, the sun still so far from underneath the waves.

Shanks buries his face in your neck, red hair fanning like embers across overheated skin. 

He sucks at your pulse, flesh between his lips, “yes you can, my good girl. For me.” 

You’re slammed into a new atmosphere, floating for seconds before being dragged back down, down to where you feel details of your name whispered against your throat and the pulsing of a thick cock as ropes of cum spill into tight, gummy walls. 

“Fuuuucckk, oh g-god, Shanks, hurts, so good, shit—”

You babble until your mouth runs dry, anchored by your captain’s bruising grasp on your hip. He has you flush against his body, heavy breaths syncing as you both float up from hell.

It’s like waking up from a dream when he starts kissing you, all feather-light and reverent. He sits up and his lopsided smile seems so sincere. 

“So proud of you, really thought you were gonna pass out there for a second.” He laughs playfully, blowing a stray red hair from his face. 

All you do is whine and shift your sore hips, gasping at the feel of his cock still hard and deep inside you. 

You’re not sure how much time passes before he pops his dick out—your heart beats are too erratic to count as seconds. 

He sinks praises into your skin, kissing down your breasts, your belly, making you jerk when he kisses the mound of your pussy. 

His breath is hot on your clit. That feeling has your mind shattering like porcelain, a sharp smack centering you straight back into reality. You sit up and stare at the scene before you, sharp-eyed prey watching a predator in the forest. 

“Shanks, no, please, for the love of god—” 

“No no no no, it’s okay,” he coos from between your legs, eyes closing and head cocking to the side as he smiles, “I’m not gonna take this one from you. Promise. Gonna let you do it all by yourself, nice and slow.” 

It’s easy to forget that Shanks is a bad liar when he shoves his pretty face down to eat his cum from your pussy.