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PENITENCE

• feeling or showing sorrow and regret for having done wrong.

Synopsis: Satoru Gojo’s demise lead him into a heart wrenching dream-like state, where all he can see is you. You and him. Him and you. People he’s lost, people he could have met.

Satoru Gojo x fem!reader, angst, mention of slight gore with Satorus injuries, Silly drabble cause i was bored, not my best work 😝

Satoru’s eyes jolt open to his heart racing, and he swears it never beat this fast before. His body feels like it weighs million and millions of pounds. He plants his hands on the ground, sensing fine grains filtering in through his fingers as he looks down, hands sinking in fine sand.

His head is spinning, his mind feels like a static. It’s like his nerves are just firing off whenever they see fit. He stands up, brushing the sand off his torso as he looks down. His shirt is torn, his stomach is a mess of blood and guts he really doesn’t wish to look at. He looks back at the sand, noticing the indent of his shape, the blood splattered across the silhouette, a menacingly sharp line of blood over his waist is the only indication of his injury.

He should have bled out. He died.

Satoru’s torso feels like it’s going to fall apart—Like some strange force is keeping him in one piece. This is all so surreal, Satoru knows it’s not reality. Its a twisted looking world, so sweet looking it makes him want to shut his eyes and ignore how much he wishes to stay. This is most definitely a dream, or the afterlife, or both. Has he really crossed to the other side to be met with just a this?

He observes the sigh of a pretty beach before him. Golden sand, a nice pink sky, calm oceans, it’s picturesque. Like a painting. He stumbles forward, trying to keep himself steady as each footstep sinks into the sand. He walks normally, not feeling any pain or discomfort. None of those stings in his lower back, not an ache in his muscles, nothing.

He walks, not seeing any difference in his surroundings. He may have zoned out a few steps in, each step so agonizingly boring he may die from that instead of the injury present on his body.

“‘Toru!” Satoru stops abruptly, eyes blown wide as he hears a voice. Your voice. You giggle so sweetly, and he looks around frantically to search for you. Any glimpse of you could make him move forward, anything to prove you’re there. Its empty, and he feels himself die a little. Such a pretty beach turned so ugly and wretched in your absence. Where the hell are you? Why won’t you run to him? He dying, for gods sake!

“Toru! Come back, don’t go yet!” Your voice speaks up, echoing in his brain as he picks up the pace, trying to search for you. Why do you sound so happy? You shouldn’t be, it’s not the right time. Satoru adores your joy, but at the sight of him split in half, you would not be giggling and calling his name. You’d be in shambles, heartbroken.

His eyes catch a glimpse of something, someone in the water. Himself? He watches his own body rise from the waves, his skin tinted pink on his shoulders, in swimming trunks and sunglasses. Sunburnt to a crisp, as usual. “Coming—“ he runs over to the shore, and Satoru stands there stunned.

What can he make of this, he doesn’t know. This other Satoru is him, and he knows it, he feels it. He’s an image in his dream. Satoru never believed himself to be so arrogant as to dream of himself all sexy coming out of the water, thats not what’s going on.

He watched the figment of himself run, and the beach seems endless until everything comes full circle. You’re on the beach towel, in your bathing suit as you chide at the sunburnt Satoru for being careless, pinching his cheek. You push him down, sitting behind him as you gently spread sunscreen on his shoulders.

Satorus breath hitches, knees feeling weak as he watches the sight in front of him. This must be hell, he’s made up his mind. Is his afterlife just him having to watch another version of himself happily in your care? it cuts him to the core.

“Y/n!” He calls out, feeling an unfamiliar throb in his abdomen. He forgets he’s dead, forgets that soon this dream, as beautiful as it is, in a twisted way, shall end. And hell fall into a twisted abyss, a cold dark sea, having failed at his duty. At being the strongest, at protecting people.

He wonders if this is karma, punishing him for his actions. Maybe in another universe, he’s as happy as the sunburnt version of him is. Laughing, smiling, spending time with you. Maybe these are versions of himself, those that didn’t die, those that got to live life to the fullest.

Your lack of a response is noted, and he continues walking, ignoring the sight as he moves forward, trying not to look back. Maybe the universe is cursing him for dying, showing him what he could have had. It feels like hes walking through millions of possibilities, each hurting just as much as the last. He walks through beaches and bedrooms, fields of flowers, wedding halls, family homes.

Another jolt of pain hits him, and he hears your voice again. He was walking trying to ignore everything, trying to power through his he sights and not make himself feel guilty for dying. He looks down, noticing bland grey tiles as your voice hits him again. So painfully beautiful.

“‘Toru, wanna hold her?”

Satoru can’t bear to look, he can’t. Seeing a possibility of that with you, its not possible. He doesn’t want to die like this, he wanted it to be peacful, filled with nothing but positive thoughts. But the ache in his heart is more than enough as he turns his head, screwing his eyes shut as he takes in a shaky breath.

He watches himself hold your baby, tears streaming down his own face as you comfort him best you can. Your daughter holds the dream-Satorus finger, fast asleep, swaddled in a pretty pink blanket. The real Satoru walks forward, staring down at the bundle of joy as another jolt hits him.

He reaches down to try and touch her, maybe get a glimpse of what could have been. Shes cute, red as a tomato, wailing like an ambulance. But she was yours, she’s yours. And he curses himself for not actually being able to experience this, envious of something that isn’t even real. His hand phases through the baby like he’s a ghost, and Satoru recoils at having his hand in your babies face. This isn’t where his place is. This is the vision of father Satoru and his baby, the mother of the little Gojo right beside him. He can’t live in their life, he can’t be the sobbing Satoru with a daughter in his arms.

Satoru steps back, trying to calm his own breathing as he begins walking again, the vision of the hospital room fading. So many versions of you two flash around him, his surroundings changing each time.

He sees more an more, from seeing Geto and Shoko, to you holding little Megumi when his leg broke as careless teenagers. To getting weird stares when you bought him clothes because people thought you were teen parents. All of it makes Satoru coil up in utter despair. He may be the strongest, but he doesn’t want to die!

He forgets how long hes been walking, a jolt of pain hitting him as he stops. A breeze washes over him, and he finds himself in a large field of white roses. The pain is getting to him, and he feels like hes been ripped apart. He has been, but thats besides the point.

He stops, eyes glued to ground. He feels as if he can see his own reflection, the ground almost mirror-like. He can’t begin to count how many lashes and gashes are on his body, the way his entire torso feels like its being held on by a thread.

would he have done things differently if he knew? Would he have joined Suguru? Made sure Haibara didn’t die? Kill Toji before he killed Riko? Destory the ugly stich faced cursed before he set Nanami ablaze?

Would he have married you if he knew he’d die? No, he wouldn’t.

As if the Satoru Gojo would leave you a widow at 27.

Would you look pretty in a wedding dress? Silly question, of course you would.

Suguru would be his best man.

Megumi would bring you your rings.

And he’d cry, he’d cry super ugly, fat tears.

But he can’t, can’t think of what else he’d do after that as he feels his body hit hard ground, feeling his body slide apart like a cartoon. This is the real world, isn’t it? Dreams don’t last forever.

His legs are gone, all he can see is the sky is a flicker of the sky, blurry and dim. Its clear, blue as his eyes. He feels warm, disgustingly at ease. He’s leaving people behind, but at last, he’s resting.

Overstimmed gojo trying to push you away when you won’t stop sucking him off

Dom!reader, crying, whining, overstimulation, teasing

“W-Wait! Mmm t-too much [name]!” Gojo lets out a desperate cry as you steal another orgasm from him. He watches you with glassy, hazy eyes as you grin at him and swallow his cum.

He hiccups a little as he grips the sheets underneath him tightly. He tries to prop himself up on his elbows but his body feels so weak that he just falls back down on his back and whines.

“N-No more pleaseee” He tries to squirm away from you but you quickly grab his thighs and pull him back to you which makes him whimper. You laugh at him and his adorable state.

“But don’t you think you can do another one for me, baby? Don’t you want to be good for me!”

Gojo whines at you and before he could reply with a stuttered response, your mouth is already back on his dick which makes his body shake and eyes roll back. But he doesn’t try to get away so you guess you can take that as a yes from him.

every time someone writes baby girl williams as a mean dom a lesbian loses their carabiner

cmon shes literally the biggest loser EVER and i love her for it

HEAR ME OUT...PLS...HEAR ME OUT!

I WOULD'VE FOLDED IN THAT FUCKING GARDEN

Y/N: “Smash”

Angel & Husker: *Spits out drink*

Alastor: Dear, please stop saying ‘smash’ every time I walk past you.

Hear ye! I have a request my liege, how about a fem reader trying to win over viktor multiple times but fails all attempts until it is revealed he does in fact reciprocate🤭

𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐮𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬-𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧.

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐦𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐱𝐱

You were nothing if not persistent.

Viktor was sharp, focused, and hopelessly oblivious to the fact that you were doing everything in your power to win him over. It wasn’t that he was cold—far from it. He was kind in that absentminded, half-listening way of a man too buried in his work to notice the very obvious signs of affection right in front of him.

And so, you tried. Again. And again.

Attempt #1: The Lunch Offer

Your first plan was simple: food.

You had spent hours preparing something special, something homemade, something that you knew he’d like. You weren’t the best cook, but you had carefully followed every step of the recipe, determined to impress him.

Approaching his workspace, you cleared your throat, balancing the carefully wrapped meal in your hands.

“Viktor?”

He didn’t look up. His fingers twitched slightly as he adjusted the mechanism he was working on, the dim light of the laboratory casting sharp shadows along his face. His brow was furrowed in thought, lips parted slightly as if he were mid-calculation.

You tried again.

“Viktor, I made lunch for you.”

That got his attention. He blinked, finally shifting his gaze toward you. His golden eyes flickered between you and the carefully packed meal in your hands.

“You did?”

You nodded enthusiastically, setting it down on his cluttered desk. “Yeah! I figured you probably haven’t eaten much today, so I thought I’d bring you something homemade.”

A pause. Viktor regarded the meal with mild curiosity before offering you a small, appreciative smile. “That’s thoughtful of you, thank you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Progress.

But then— Without hesitation, Viktor picked up his fork, poked at the food once, then twice, before taking a single bite. He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable.

Your fingers curled anxiously. “So? What do you think?”

“…It’s interesting,” he said diplomatically.

Your stomach dropped. “Interesting?”

He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “I appreciate the effort.”

You deflated.

“I might have miscalculated the salt,” you admitted sheepishly.

Viktor, ever the gentleman, coughed lightly. “Ah, yes. A bit… potent.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Okay, okay, I get it! It’s bad, isn’t it?”

He chuckled, nudging the plate slightly away but still offering you a kind smile. “Not bad. Just… an acquired taste.”

You groaned. First attempt: failure.

Attempt #2: The Book Gift

You knew Viktor loved books. It was one of the few things that could pull his attention away from his work—albeit briefly.

So, you found a rare book on Hextech theories and wrapped it neatly, tying a ribbon around it for good measure.

You waited until he was in a rare moment of relaxation—well, as close to relaxation as Viktor ever got. He was seated at his desk, flipping through his notes with a cup of tea beside him.

Perfect timing.

“Viktor,” you called softly, holding out the book.

He turned, glancing at you before his gaze landed on the package in your hands. “What’s this?”

“A gift,” you said, smiling. “I thought you might like it.”

His brow furrowed slightly, curiosity shining in his eyes as he reached for the book. He unwrapped it carefully, the ribbon slipping off with ease. When he saw the title, his lips parted in surprise.

“You found this?”

You grinned. “I did! It took some effort, but I figured you’d love it.”

For a moment, he seemed genuinely touched. His fingers traced the spine of the book as he flipped through the first few pages, skimming the text.

“Oh, this is the outdated version.”

Your smile froze. “…What?”

Viktor tilted his head slightly, scanning the pages. “This edition was published before Heimerdinger updated his findings on Hextech decay rates. The later editions corrected a few errors in the theory, particularly in chapters three and five.”

You stared.

He looked up, noticing your expression. “…Not that I don’t appreciate it!” he added quickly. “It’s a thoughtful gift, truly. I will still read it.”

You sighed dramatically. “I was trying to impress you, you know.”

Viktor blinked. “Impress me?”

“Yes! And instead, I gave you an outdated book!”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s not about the edition. It’s the effort that counts.”

You folded your arms. “So I failed, huh?”

His lips quirked up. “Not at all. You are very persistent.”

Not exactly the answer you wanted, but you supposed it wasn’t a complete loss.

Attempt #3: The Stargazing Invitation

This time, you were going for romance.

You had set up a small spot on the Academy’s rooftop, a cozy little corner with blankets, pillows, and even a small lantern to give off a warm glow. The sky was clear, the stars bright. It was the perfect atmosphere.

Now all you needed was Viktor.

Dragging him away from his work had been no easy task. He had resisted at first, insisting he had equations to finish and calibrations to check, but you had practically pulled him by the arm, determined.

When you finally reached the rooftop, you gestured grandly. “Tada!”

Viktor looked around, brow raised. “…You brought me here to sit on the ground?”

You huffed. “Not just sit—stargaze. Relax. Take a break.”

He hesitated before carefully lowering himself onto the blankets. His cane rested beside him as he leaned back, gaze flickering toward the night sky.

You watched him closely. “What do you think?”

He was quiet for a long moment, then finally spoke. “…It’s peaceful.”

Success!

Encouraged, you scooted closer. “I thought you could use a moment to breathe. You work too hard.”

Viktor hummed, seemingly considering your words. “Perhaps you are right.”

You turned your head to look at him, the glow of the lantern casting soft shadows along his sharp features. He looked beautiful like this—lost in thought, his golden eyes reflecting the starlight.

Heart pounding, you gathered your courage. “Viktor… can I ask you something?”

He glanced at you, intrigued. “Of course.”

You swallowed. “Have you ever… thought about taking a break? Not just from work, but from everything. Spending time with someone. Maybe… me?”

Viktor blinked.

Then, with all the grace of a man absolutely oblivious—

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to burden you with that,” he said sincerely.

You stared.

He continued, oblivious to the weight of your question. “My work is demanding, and I would not want you to feel neglected. Relationships require time and attention, and I would hate for you to be disappointed.”

You nearly groaned out loud.

For a man as brilliant as Viktor, he could be painfully clueless.

With a resigned sigh, you flopped back onto the blanket, staring up at the stars. Another attempt, another failure.

—

You weren’t expecting much when you walked into the lab that evening.

In fact, you were expecting nothing at all.

After weeks of trying—pouring your heart into homemade meals, thoughtful gifts, and starry rooftop nights—you had resigned yourself to the truth: Viktor either didn’t notice your feelings, or he didn’t want to notice them.

And honestly? You were tired.

You had been visiting him less and less, not completely avoiding him, but pulling back just enough to protect yourself. You still cared—you would always care—but unrequited love wasn’t something you could keep torturing yourself with.

So when you stepped into the lab that night, you told yourself you were just here for work. Nothing else.

Jayce and Viktor were deep in conversation when you entered. Jayce stood by Viktor’s desk, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Viktor, seated, was scribbling something furiously in his notebook, barely acknowledging his friend’s presence.

They both turned when they saw you.

“Oh, hey!” Jayce greeted, his usual easy-going grin in place. “Haven’t seen you around much lately.”

Viktor’s head snapped up so fast you almost thought he hurt himself. His eyes flickered to you, studying your expression for a fraction of a second before returning to his notes.

You forced a small smile, holding up a stack of reports. “Just dropping these off.”

You moved to place them on Viktor’s desk, careful not to linger, but Jayce’s next words stopped you in your tracks.

“You know,” he mused, voice dripping with playful amusement, “for someone who constantly complains when she’s not around, you sure don’t act like it, Vik.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that immediately thickened the air, made it heavy, charged.

Your brain took a full three seconds to register what Jayce had just said.

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

Viktor froze.

His pen, mid-stroke, halted against the page. His entire body went rigid, his fingers tightening around the notebook in his lap.

Jayce, bless his completely oblivious soul, continued without a care in the world. “Yeah, seriously. Every time you’re not here, he—”

“Jayce.”

Viktor’s voice cut through the air like a knife. Low. Sharp. Warning.

Jayce finally seemed to sense the weight of the situation. He looked at Viktor, then at you, then back at Viktor, realization dawning like a slow-motion catastrophe.

“Oh,” he said, blinking. “Ohhh.”

You barely heard him. Your entire focus was on Viktor, who was currently staring a hole into his notebook as if he could will the conversation out of existence. His grip on his pen was so tight you thought it might snap in half.

You took a step closer. “Viktor,” you started carefully, “is that true?”

He didn’t answer. Your stomach twisted.

Jayce shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh—”

“Leave.”

It was barely more than a breath, but Jayce immediately straightened. “Yeah. Yep. That’s my cue. I am—definitely—leaving.”

And then, with the speed of a man fleeing imminent death, he was gone.

The door shut behind him, leaving you alone with Viktor.

And still—he didn’t look at you.

You took a slow breath, willing your voice to stay steady. “Viktor.”

Nothing.

So you took another step closer, moving carefully, deliberately, until you were standing directly beside him. Close enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was clenched just a little too tight.

“…Is it true?” you asked again, quieter this time.

A long, heavy pause.

Then—finally—he exhaled. A slow, controlled breath, like he was preparing for something.

“…Yes.”

Your heart stuttered.

He still didn’t look at you. His eyes remained fixed on the desk, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his notebook.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your pulse was hammering in your ears. “Then why—?”

“Because it is irrelevant.”

That caught you off guard. “What?”

Viktor let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You deserve someone who is not married to his work. Someone who can give you their full attention, not just stolen moments between projects.”

Your chest ached. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

He went still.

Slowly—hesitantly—he finally turned to look at you.

His golden eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were guarded. Careful. But beneath that, beneath the walls he so carefully constructed, there was something else.

Something hesitant. Something fragile.

Something real.

“…You would grow tired of me,” he said quietly. “Of the late nights. Of the exhaustion. Of the way I forget to eat unless someone reminds me.”

You stared at him, barely able to breathe. “Viktor—”

“I am not good at this,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I do not know how to—” He stopped, inhaled sharply, then exhaled again. “I do not know how to be what you need.”

Something in your chest cracked open.

You reached for his hand before he could pull away. Your fingers brushed against his—warm, steady, certain.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you said softly. “You just have to be you.”

Viktor stared at your intertwined fingers like they were some kind of impossible equation.

Like he wanted to believe you, but didn’t quite know how.

“…And if I disappoint you?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.

You squeezed his hand. “Then I’ll let you know. And we’ll figure it out. Together.”

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to argue. But for once—for once—he didn’t.

Instead, after a long, drawn-out moment, he simply closed his fingers around yours.

Not tightly. Not desperately.

Just enough.

A quiet, tentative acceptance.

“…You are remarkably persistent,” he murmured, the smallest, softest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Viktor shook his head, exhaling something that almost sounded like a chuckle. “Jayce is going to be insufferable about this.”

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

And then—finally, finally—Viktor let himself relax.

So with the scene of Caitlyn looking at the Hexgate schematics and the final shot of the airship that glitches out I guess that counts as an ambiguous death??

“i am going to fuck you!”

“i am going to fuck you!”

that particular clip from lucifer’s fight with the first ever man to walk the planet—adam—had been playing for what seemed like ages now. it’s become background noise at this point, drowned out by the sinful whimpers of the king himself alongside the occasional creaking of the mattress.

“you were supposed to say— ‘fuck you up,’ my king,” you murmur close to his ear, peppering kisses down to his neck. lucifer was writhing beneath you, his knuckle almost turning white from how hard he’s holding onto your hand.

the intimacy during this heated session almost made him want to cry, if he wasn’t already getting ahead of himself.

“because the latter means something different, yes?”

lucifer nods to your question, struggling to meet your gaze. “y—yes— fuck—sorry, ‘m sorry—“ he doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for; maybe he knows that he made the mistake in the delivery of his message adam, which lead to you getting slightly jealous.

barely.

“don’t apologize,” you hush his apologies by picking up your pace a bit, eliciting a reaction so erotic that you might mistake lucifer for a pornstar. his back arched, drool pooling on the corner of his lips—too cockdrunk to even care how he looked in front of you.

“just enjoy yourself, yeah? you deserve it after the show you put on, my king.”

“uh huh. yes, aha—..! yn, i’m gonna—“

instead of lucifer doing the fucking, he’d prefer to be on the receiving end, not that anyone who heard him on the battlefield during the early extermination would ever know.

good for me. | sub!ellie williams

tags: sub!ellie, dom!reader, cunilingus (e!recieving), over stimulation, nipple sucking, praise

a/n: dude i saw a pic (first one) of ellie that filled my mind with brainrot about nipple sucking like all i could think about was rolling her pretty tits under my tongue and agsjej- anyways. we need more sub!ellie in this damn community.

you had her pinned down by the wrists against your pristine white sheets, straddling her hips and watching intently as her chest rises and falls with each shaky intake of air. her long fingers flex and squirm beneath your grasp as she starts to turn pink under your intense gaze, heat swarming in her lower stomach. she worries her bottom lip with her teeth making you tsk unapprovingly. a gentle hand reaches down to caress her warm cheek before you grasp more firmly at her jaw, your thumb swiping her pouty lip out of her mouth. its flushed and wet with saliva and the soft gasp ellie lets out from the subtle dominance of your actions has you leaking into your underwear.

“look at you. my pretty girl. being so good for me.." you lean forward to whisper into her ear. your tits press into hers as you place lingering open mouthed kisses against the sensitive flesh of her neck right below the sharp angle of her jaw. she squeezes her eyes shut and her mouth hangs open slightly. shes panting out sharp little breaths of anticipation. “nngh- please touch me..need you so bad." ellie sighs out the words like they're a secret, and a vicious smile spreads across your face at her little confession. she was enjoying this. enjoying being toyed with, completely at your mercy. the contrast was striking; like night and day. all the snark was gone from her voice. you wanted nothing more than to satisfy her wish and reward her obedience, but not before making her truly desperate for it.

“where do you need me, els?” your voice is sultry and low, almost unrecognisable to yourself. the innate power of having her in this vulnerable position enflames something in you, makes you slippery between the thighs. you want to make her work for it. to beg you to let her cum. you barely register the way your own hips begin to rock slightly against the front of her jeans. ellie gasps, bucking up into you. the subtle friction of your heat against hers makes her needy and anxious to feel you. she struggles slightly against your restraint, yearning to hold your hips. to grip your flesh in her hands and grind you down onto her, to coach you both to a release. “fuck- please baby, i’ve been so good. i can make you feel good, just lemme-” she’s babbling now, groaning as you increase the speed of your grinding.

“hey.” your tone is sharp and authoritative as you grab her by the chin again, diverting her attention. she’s instantly silent, staring up at you with eager eyes and furrowed brows. it almost breaks you. “relax. lemme take care of you.” your smile is sickly sweet as you lean down to connect your lips with hers in a chaste kiss that has her chasing your mouth when you depart. you finally release her wrists with a curt “stay.” that makes ellie swallow a whimper. but she’s such a good girl, staying perfectly still for you, watching as your hands slowly inch her tank top up to expose her perky breasts. your mouth waters at the sight of her soft pink nipples and you’re quick to latch onto one with a groan whilst palming the other.

ellie’s breathing increases rapidly as she watches you flick her nipple up and down with your tongue until it pebbles in your mouth. your lips are gentle, sucking the flesh softly and overwhelming her senses with the feeling of warmth. “uhhn- feels s’good baby, ffuck” ellie hiccups out, moving her hand to lace through your hair. you pop off of her nipple and blow cool air onto the flesh just to make her shiver, giggling cruelly at how cute she looks. her hair is a mess and her body shines with a sheer layer of sweat, a pretty flush spreading from her face down to her neck. she looks utterly fucked out and you haven't even ventured between her thighs yet.

you make quick work of unbuttoning her jeans, sliding them down to reveal her freckled legs. her boxer briefs are slick with her arousal making them almost sheer. the pretty outline of her pussy is on full display. you sigh contently, reaching under her knees to hike her legs up and spread them. “you’re adorable, you know that?” your voice is breathy as you take in the erotic sight below you, reaching a finger down to swipe through her wet folds over her underwear. “so wet.” ellie instinctively bucks into your touch, whining. “sh-shut up n’ fuck me already”

on a different day, you’d be crueler. punish her for speaking out of line by denying her your touch. but you’re just as desperate for her, and all you can offer is a non-committal “say please” which shes quick to relinquish before your diving forward to swipe your tongue up her pussy, desperate for a taste. “fuck!” ellie yelps out, her head thrown back against the sheets. she tastes tangy and sweet and you moan deeply before sucking her slick through the thin fabric.

“lets get these off of you, yeah?” you pant before shoving her wrecked briefs down the plush of her thighs. sticky webs of her arousal cling onto the fabric, and fuck she looks so pretty like this, all wet and pliant for you. her hole pulses around nothing and you’re quick to shove your face back in, sucking her puffy clit into your mouth. ellie’s hands fly, grabbing chunks of your hair in a fist as she humps mindlessly against your tongue. so greatful to finally feel some sense of relief. she’s letting out whiney cries of your name, practically fucking your face. her free hand grasps the sheets when your tongue prods into her entrance, gathering her precum onto your tongue.

“holy f-fuck baby ‘m gonna cum- fuckfuckfu” you’ve never seen her this needy, so close to release this soon; her voice is high and she can barely form full sentences as you feel her pussy pulse and her strong thighs trap you, warm liquid spilling into your eager mouth. you continue to eat her out through her high until shes tearing up and pushing you away, completely over stimulated.

“hh- shit…” shes huffing out, collapsed onto the bed with her arm covering her eyes. you crawl up ellie’s body to kiss her softly, the lingering taste of her cum still fresh on your tongue. a warm hand reaches down to massage the tense muscles of her thighs and you hold her face with the other, staring at her hazy expression. “you okay?” you whisper to her, pecking the tip of her nose lovingly. ellie smiles warmly, basking in the after glow of her orgasm, her eyes closed. “more than okay. fucking amazing.”