#*BITES AND BITES AND SHAKES AND SOBS AND SHAKES AND SOBS*

[okwonyo]

I CRUMBLE COMPLETELY ꣑୧ 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗋𝗒

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐕 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗉

𝟏𝟎𝟔𝟏𝒾──── enhypen 𝗑 f!rea ✿ comfort 𓂋 kissing skinship crying ❞ ���𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 ｡ ⠀

𝗥𝗘𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦

LEE HEESEUNG doesn’t know what got him out of his deep slumber yet. his head is still deep in the clouds when he scratches his eye open. he is confused when he hears muffled sounds coming from next to him but he is quick to distinguish his sweet girl’s sobs. it’s an heart-rending sight, sad yet beautiful, with the light of his nightstand’s lamp reflecting on your face and you tears-filled eyes widened at him. he can tell from the look on your face that you are too shaken by your nightmare to talk about it. he is quick to pull you in his embrace, your face buried in his broad chest, your fingers gripping onto his shirt as he lays the both of you down. his heartbeat goes faster as your tears fall onto his cloth and he can’t do anything else that give you a soft kiss ok the top of your head, holding you close.

PARK JONGSEONG “angel, c’mere,” he shushes you. you feel like a kid with your hand wiping your eyes, your tears falling on the back of your hand, your lips quivering. jay’s hand is wrapped around your free one. he pulls closer as you sniffle, unable to look up to look him in the face. he continues to drag you close to himself, your wobbly voice pulling his heart strings. he makes you sit on his laps in a smooth motion. you hide your face in the crook of your boyfriend’s neck. his hand strokes your back in the greatest hope of soothing your pain. “princess,” his voice is pleading. “look at me, please.” his chest is heavy with pain when you look up. he rubs your tigh with his thumb, “it’s okay, sweetheart,” he rests his forehead against yours, “i’m here.”

SIM JAEYUN feels his entire body getting weaker. when he steps into the kitchen to see you on the floor, head in your hands, sitting on the couch and shaking. his pulse rate goes so high, he can feel his heart beating in his head. he doesn’t think before rushing towards you, slightly in distress. his knees get fragile and he falls right in front of you. “my love,” he rests his hand on your thigh. he shushes you as you hiccup, messily apologizing for your state, “it’s okay, don’t apologizing.” his voice is a tad bit wobbly as he says so and he doesn’t really know what to do. he tries to get up to bring you some water, wishing that it could calm you down a little but you hold his wrist. he is unable to get off his knees when your teary eyes lock with his. when you fall in his arms, his soul feels your pain like its own.

PARK SUNGHOON it’s like his breath is being taken away from him the more he watches your face crumble into pieces. he can’t do anything but look at you, at your tears falling on your reddened cheeks, at your teeth biting your lower lip in utmost despair to stop crying. he catches you in his arms when you completely fall under the pressure of your sadness. he admits it, his eyes got a little teary when you started to cry and even more when you wrapped your arms around his neck so strongly. sunghoon decides that you need some rest—therefore, your feet are off the floor in a minute and he is walking towards the bedroom. you whine when he slightly lets go to put you on the mattress; “shh, i’m here,” he assures before laying next to you.

KIM SUNOO knows there is something wrong as soon as he comes back home. your puffy eyes and you sad smile tells him everything that he needs to know— yet, you insist on telling him that nothing his wrong. he doesn’t when the love of his life hides her pain from him, but he doesn’t want to be too punchy so he doesn’t press. “okay, i love you,” he whispers without expecting a response. he just lets it out, as a gentle reminder, a quieter way of saying that he is there for you. but he didn’t expect for you to cover your mouth to hide a sob in your throat. sunoo reaches to you immediately, distress displayed on his face as obvious as the ache of his heart. he brings you closer to his circle of warmth ever so gently. his shoulder welcomes your forehead without complaint and his hand pats your head. he doesn’t let you go until you swear you are okay.

YANG JUNGWON his hands cup your face. he puts his face so close to yours that you let out a teary giggle. “you are always so pretty,” he whispers, his thumb wiping the falling tear under your eye, “even when you cry, doll” ridiculously enough, his sweetness makes you want to cry even more than a few moments prior. yet, you still smile at jungwon, whose smile is so bright that it could light up an entire city. your tears wet your face without your permission and when he leans in to give you a peck on the mouth, his lips after salty. he comes back for another, though. he aims for everywhere: on your nose, on your cheeks, on your forehead. your giggles are wobbly and confuse themselves between many of your quiet sobs—but they are here. and he thanks god for that.

NISHIMURA RIKI does completely crumble whenever he sees you cry, or when he does as much as thinking about it. he doesn’t know what to do or what to say. your boyfriend stumbles over every surface of the apartment to find tissues for you. “hey,” he whispers, voice shaky due to his worry and his heartbeats being so fast. he sits on the edge of the bed, next to your body laid on the bed. he frowns when you look at him, desperately trying to wipe off your tears. he takes one tissue and brings it closer to your face. “no,” he says as you try to grab the tissue, “let me take care of you, baby, hm?” he cleans your damped and gorgeous face. there is a limp in his throats when you let out a shaky whisper, when your soft body shakes as you hiccup. he tucks you under the covers and gives you a kiss on the forehead, “rest a little.”

분지 ܃ i wrote this in a rush, i still hope you enjoy <3

© 𝖮𝖪𝖶𝖮𝖭𝖸𝖮 ୨୧ 𝟐𝐎𝟐𝟓 ── taglist open 。

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Marked||Remmick x fem!reader

Mndi +18

Summary—Remmick’s obsessed with your skin. Dark, warm, alive. He can’t stop licking, biting, praising—marking—it. He needs everyone to know you’re his. He makes you ride him slow while he worships every inch, telling you you’re the only light he’s ever seen.

Warnings—possessive sex, praise kink, interracial dynamic, body worship, dirty talk

Word count—739

Remmick has always had a thing for your skin.

Not just the way it looks though he could write poetry about how the dark gleam of it glows like firelight in the dark, how it shimmers when you sweat, how it drinks the moon. But the way it tastes. The way it feels. Warm, velvet-soft, stretched over muscle and strength and everything he craves more than blood.

He has you straddling his lap now, the slow rock of your hips driving him half-mad with need. But he doesn’t buck up. He doesn’t rush. He just watches.

Watches your curves roll like honey. Watches the way you tilt your head back, lashes fluttering, mouth parting with a soft gasp when his hands slide up your waist. You’re riding him slow, steady, so deep it’s practically torture for you both.

His chain clinks against your stomach every time you drop your hips. His fingers flex against your thighs. You’re gonna be sore tomorrow, and the thought makes his cock twitch inside you.

But he can’t stop looking at your skin.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasps, voice rough with hunger, Southern drawl thick. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?”

You smile, lazy, teasing. “Oh, I have some idea.”

That gets a growl out of him. His hands tighten, dragging you flush against him until your chest presses to his, your breath ghosting his throat. “So fuckin’ warm,” he mutters, kissing your collarbone. “Like sunlight. Like sin.”

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder not to feed, just to mark. A claim. And God, he’s got so many of them on you already. Your neck, your tits, your hips all bruised, kissed, sucked red and purple and gold. His fingerprints might never leave your thighs.

You whimper when he bites, nails digging into his shoulders. “Remmick—”

“That’s it, sugar. Let me hear you. Let me feel you.” He lifts his mouth, eyes burning gold now. “Wanna ruin you slow. Wanna see my marks all over you tomorrow when you look in the mirror. Wanna remind you you’re mine.”

“You already did.”

His grip falters. Just for a second. Like your words physically stunned him.

You don’t stop moving. You roll your hips again, deliberately slow, grinding your clit against his pelvis. “You think I’d let anyone else have this?” You tilt his chin up so he has to look you in the eye. “I belong to you.”

He groans wounded, almost and grabs your ass with both hands, driving you down harder. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe, letting your head fall to his. “I’m all yours, Remmick.”

“Fuck—fuck—you’re gonna break me,” he gasps, mouth hot on your throat. “Only light I’ve ever seen, baby. Only thing worth prayin’ to.”

His lips move lower. Over the swell of your breast, down the valley between. He licks, sucks, tongues your nipple until you arch for him.

“Dark skin like a goddamn altar,” he moans, voice gone reverent. “Want to worship. Want to bury myself in you and never fuckin’ leave.”

You grind down harder, faster now, chasing the high he’s whispering into existence. He meets your rhythm finally, hips snapping up just enough to make your thighs tremble.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about how you look like this,” he mutters, dragging his tongue down your sternum. “Ridin’ me like you own me. Drippin’ warm all over my cock. Shit, baby. You were made for this.”

“Remmick, please—”

He tilts his head back, watching you. Sweaty. Gasping. Riding him like you were born to. “You close?”

You nod, eyes fluttering. “Need to—need you to—”

His thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles with expert precision. “Come on then. Give it to me. Show me who this pussy belongs to.”

You sob his name when you come. Body shaking, thighs clenching, muscles fluttering around his cock as he watches, memorizes it. And he keeps you moving through it, holding you steady while he spills inside you with a groan that sounds more like a prayer.

For a moment, there’s only panting. Skin against skin. His necklace cool against your chest. Your arms around his neck.

Then, quietly, reverently:

“Gonna keep you like this forever.”

You huff a laugh. “You’ll have to let me walk eventually.”

He grins against your neck. “Maybe. If I can still smell me on you after.”

He kisses a bite mark on your shoulder like an apology.

But it isn’t one. It’s a promise.

[blitziwitchwrites]

DADDY WILL KISS (fuck!) IT ALL BETTER!

pairing: ex-best friend’s dad!sukuna x bitter!reader content tags/warnings: smut! minors dni, cheating (reader gets cheated on by her boyfriend), age gap- reader is in her early 20’s and sukuna is in his late 30’s/early 40’s, sukuna is uraume’s bio dad, uraume’s a shithead in this- oops, taboo, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, light degradation (just sukuna calling the reader brat and a history of him being an ass), female reader, piv sex, rough, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kiddos!), dilf!kuna, size kink/difference, huge cock, daddy use/daddy kink, choking, hair-pulling, thumb sucking/biting, light dumbification, sukuna gets fuckin pussydrunkkkkksummary: after you make a surprise visit to your boyfriend, hakari's, apartment, you catch him balls deep inside your best friend, uraume, and leave before they catch you. later on, you decide to confront uraume, only to end up disappointed when only sukuna is home, and uraume is still off, busy fucking your boyfriend. but it’s fine. uraume can have your boyfriend. you’ll just have to keep yourself busy getting stuffed by their dad instead!author’s note: i always see dilf!nanami with yuji and dilf!toji with megumi and this that and the other thing…  but how about dilf!sukuna with uraume? under-represented! so, as a thank you for so much love on my last sukuna work… instead of great dad sukuna, here’s a nice one shot of sukuna being a… well, not so great dad, kinda, haha. but hey! barely anything else matters (in fiction!!!) when there’s cock to be had, yeah? anyways, enjoy!!! word count: 4k words

—————

to say you were angry was an understatement. you were seething. you were pissed. your fists were shaking so violently as you slammed your car door shut and marched up to your ex-best friend’s front door, that it was a highly possibility the next thing you touch might cause a whole fucking earthquake from how strong the vibrations of your rage were. it was too much for you. it was too much to feel so suddenly. too much time wasted on a little boy who couldn’t appreciate you. too much time wasted on a nobody.

and to make matters worst? it was with your best friend.

you never thought uraume would betray you so deeply, much less with your boyfriend. the two of you had been through thick and thin together. friends since childhood.

well, until you stopped by your boyfriend’s apartment to drop off soup and medicine for him since he’d cancelled your date night because he was “sick”... only to see uraume’s car in the lot… and then hear your boyfriend balls-deep inside uraume, very clearly not sick like he’d claimed he was.

they didn’t know you saw them. you didn’t say a word. you just left. and cried. for hours. and then you’d decided to go to uraume’s house to question them. you were ten times hurt by their betrayal than your stupid boyfriend’s. boys came and went. weren’t friends supposed to be forever?

as you banged on the front door, your fist slamming over and over on the door like it’d been the one to fuck your boyfriend, your face was red. it was raining, dripping outside, causing your hoodie to drench and cling to your skin, your boots squishing slightly in the puddle at the front door of uraume’s house.

you didn’t expect uraume’s father, sukuna, to open the front door with a scowl on his face. tears were dripping down on your face at the point, and maybe to anyone else, it would’ve just looked like your face was wet from the rain, but ryomen sukuna wasn’t a fucking moron. he could tell right away. you were crying. you weren’t just crying, even. you were angry sobbing.

“why the fuck are you banging on my door, brat?” sukuna’s gruff voice came out, harsh and raspy, like you’d just woken him up from his sleep. his attire, a black wife-beater shirt that exposed his massive biceps and ink-stained skin, and a set of red and black plaid pajama pants with black socks padded over his big feet, supported your theory.

you were shaking. you’d never quite gotten along with uraume’s father. when the two of you were children, he was tolerable. he’d never gotten along with his wife, you noticed, well aware that he’d only accidentally knocked up the woman and wouldn’t even consider marrying her, until she finally left both him and uraume and never looked back. and then he was just worse. especially as you got older, constantly making comments about why you would wear the things you did and why you were so fucking loud and why you were always in his house… but he’d never ask you to leave. and when you even insinuated it? he’d always just shut up, grumble incoherent obscenities under his breath, before eventually just trudging back off to his room and leaving both you and uraume be. 

“i don’t have the energy to deal with your fucking attitude, sukuna. where is uraume?” you snapped, your entire body shaking now, your fast twisting in rage. a flash of lightning snapped across the sky, wind whipping your hair behind you, causing you to quickly brush your hair out of your face with an aggressive huff, the rain only pouring harder.

clearly, sukuna could tell by the expression on your face and the way you spoke, that you hadn’t been joking. instead of answering, sukuna just stepped to the side with a grunt, opening the door a little more. “just come in the fucking house before you get struck by lightning or swept away by the wind.” he grumbled.

without missing a beat, you stormed right into the house. sukuna watched you storm past without another word. he let out a low grumble as you went right up the stairs, making him huff in annoyance. “you’re tracking mud throughout my house, brat. take your shoes off.”

you stopped at the top of the stairs. you looked down, before you unlaced your boots. sukuna walked halfway up the stairs, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched you, before he finally spoke up. “i know you’re not expecting me to bring your fucking shoes at the door-”

“URAUME, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” you didn’t even let sukuna finish, bringing your foot up, before you kicked in uraume’s bedroom door, caving it in and sending it flying right open, slamming against the wall next to it with a hard thud. you walked into uraume’s room, raising the boots like you were going to throw them right at uraume, but you paused after you turned the bedroom light on… uraume was gone.

and then you felt a gruff of confusion and annoyance behind you. sukuna leaned in the doorway behind you, arms crossed, before he reached up and calmly snatched your boots right out of your raised hand. he placed them in his hands, about to turn and bring your shoes downstairs (even though he said he wouldn’t), when he lowly grumbled, “uraume’s not home. they’ve been at a friend’s all day. why are you so pissed at them anyway? they steal your hairbrush or something?”

sukuna was not expecting you to suddenly fall to your knees, shaking, and release a loud, devastated, unbearably broken sob. sukuna paused in the hallway, turning back, looking at you when he heard the thud of your knees hitting the ground. he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, watching your head hang low as you cried, your tears dripping down your cheeks and off your face, onto your already soaked jeans. sukuna furrowed his eyebrows, pausing, before he lowered your shoes. he just sighed. he used his free hand to open the door a little more, looking down at you, furrowing his eyebrows.

he’d never ever seen you cry before, in all the years he knew you. he’d seen his kid cry. even as an adult. and you were always there. but he had never seen you cry. what the hell did his kid do?

“hey,” sukuna said after a moment, his voice slightly softening, not quite a bark but not moreso with sternness and concern. “what’s going on?”

after a moment, you bring your hand up. you sniffle, defeated, wiping your cheeks and your eyes with the hells of one of your hands as you let out a soft whimper, feeling nothing but defeated. the rage had left your system, now draining out of you, your heart shattered and in millions of pieces all over uraume’s floor. you sniffle, trying to collect yourself, before you push yourself up off the ground with a soft, weak grunt. “nothing.” you whisper, your face barely above a whisper. “i’m sorry.”

as you reach forward to take your boots from sukuna, so you can just leave and go home and cry, sukuna suddenly pulls his hand back, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks down at you. immediately, you look up at him, your fingers outstretched. you timidly pull your hand back, looking up at sukuna, your face softening as you feel a weak throb in your chest.

“you nearly punched my front door to bits, kicked my kid’s door in, and assaulted them with… these.” sukuna held up your heavy and worn black boots still dripping with mud and rainwater from the outdoors, looking at them and scrunching his face a bit, before looking down at you. “clearly, it’s not nothing. and i think you owe me an explanation because this is my house you just barged into and busted.” he said, before gesturing to uraume’s bedroom door, then down to you.

you looked back, looking at uraume’s bedroom door, which was now just barely hanging on by one of the hinges, before you looked back up at sukuna, and then down. “i’m sorry.” you murmur, the realization of your rage hitting you, before you reached up to grab your shoes. “i wasn’t thinking. i’ll leave now. and i’ll pay to fix uraume’s door.” you murmur, only for sukuna to hold the boots back up higher now, dangling them over your face. sukuna was much taller than you were, but then again, he was taller than everyone, staggering at over seven feet tall and beefy. uraume was taller than you, as well, but it was clear that they inherited their height from their normally-sized mother.

“i didn’t ask for an apology or reimbursement. i asked you what the hell is the matter with you.” sukuna insisted, furrowing his eyebrows. “you gonna answer me or not?”

you looked up at sukuna, lowering your hand down again, letting out a small, weak breath. you looked at him, at your shoes, back at uraume’s door, and then at the ground by your feet. “...i caught uraume fucking hakari.” you murmur weakly, your voice barely above your breath. 

sukuna’s eyebrows furrow, and he lowers your boots a bit, though he doesn’t release them or let you take them yet. “your little boyfriend?”

you nod your head weakly, staring down at your feet. sukuna falls silent. and so do you.

after a moment, sukuna lets out a small breath. “...you got any clothes in uraume’s drawers or anything?”

“no.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “any of my belongings i have here, uraume can keep though. i don’t care anymore.”

“i was asking because you’re drenched in rain water and i don’t want you getting it all over my house.” sukuna comments back with a gruff huff, before he turns, keeping your boots in his grasp. “go take a shower. i’ll bring you a change of clothes. i’m ordering chinese.”

———

while you didn’t expect to end up in your soon-to-be ex best friend’s dad’s bed, empty chinese containers clattered n the ground, sheets tangled and in nothing but his oversized black t-shirt, your thighs spread and a much older man with his head between your thighs, devouring you between your legs like a pussydrunk beast…. you weren’t exactly unhappy about it.

you gasped, your back arching off the bed as sukuna pushed two of his fingers between your gaping, empty hole. your knees bucked, your heels digging into ryomen sukuna’s bare back, your thighs squeezing his head mercilessly as he shoved his thick fingers deep inside your walls, his tongue repeatedly lapping as your clit like a starved man. “stupid fucking boy.” he murmured into your overstimulated bud, sore from your repeated orgasms. you’d lost count at five, and that’d been a long while ago.

you let out a loud cry, your thighs shaking as you felt another orgasm crashing over you, our fluids squirting and splashing onto sukuna’s fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, your mind lost in a daze. “r-r-ryo-” you sobbed, your tears dripping down your face as sukuna’s fingers dug into your g-spot over and over again, finger-fucking you through your orgasm as he tongue licked up and down your pussy, sucking on your folds so he could devour every last bit of your flavoring. “ahhhh! can’t… can’t take anymore!” you sobbed out, your fingers digging at his disheveled pink hair, which you’d been tugging at for over an hour now. 

suddenly, after coming down from your orgasm, you felt your sore legs shift, your legs pushing up so your knees were now flat, your legs up, your ankles just barely brushing against sukuna’s broad shoulders as he looked down at you, his face soaked with your fluids. he leaned down, immediately crashing his lips into yours, one of his hands resting next to your head while the other kept your face, holding your cheek and cradling it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. his tongue swirled around your mouth as you parted your lips, granting him access, your body shaking as you eased your fingers in his hair, smoothly rubbing the nape of his neck, before he pulled away.

“been wanting this pussy for too long now.” sukuna murmured in your ear, before he began to kiss your neck, your jaw, your ear, biting, nibbling, tugging, pulling, kissing and licking, sucking on your skin like he was trying not to devour you whole. 

“r-r-really?” you panted, your voice trembling softly, your fingers shaking as you looked up at the ceiling, before you gasped as sukuna bucked his hips up into yours, his bulge hitting right against your hips, your soaked fluids and sukuna’s saliva on your pussy immediately wetting the fabric that was snug so tightly to sukuna’s throbbing cock.

sukuna nodded his head into your neck, rolling his hips forward, causing a needy whimper to escape your lips as your toes curled, your feet threatening to fold inward as you attempted to arch your back off the bed again from the pressure of him directly up against you. okay, so maybe you could take a little more- scratch that! you needed it.

“mhm. four summers ago.” he answered, panting, his own voice slurred from just how absolutely wrecked he was after devouring your cunt for almost two hours straight. “walking around my backyard in that string you called a swimsuit.” he grunted, rolling his hips up against your pussy again, causing you to gasp again with need. one of your hands moved down, fumbling to try and push his pajama pants down so he could just fuck you already, your fingers trembling and pushing at him to try and free him to no avail as he kept speaking. “and then you saw yuji fall in the deep end of the pool and you jumped right in and saved him.”

your eyes widened a bit, your heart thumping at the memory. it was clear as day. uraume had a big pool in their backyard, and their family would often host barbecues during the summer, sukuna’s side of the family stopping by to join them- you were always the only non-family member who was got invited, apart from yuji’s older brother choso’s girlfriend, Yuki, who was his wife at this point and so was now actually family. 

you and uraume had been by the pool, tanning in the beach chairs after eating, when you heard a sudden splash. nobody had even noticed it or had been paying attention, even the boy’s father- jin- who was always usually watching his son like a hawk. but you’d seen it. the little splash of sudden pink, and then watching it float down to the bottom of the deep-end, the little boy struggling. you were diving into the water and carrying him back up to the top moments later, dragging you both out of the pool and sitting on a beach chair as uraume rushed to grab towels and the rest of the family rushed over to the little boy who was shaking and crying and clinging to you like his life depended on it (and he’d clung to you ever since). 

“spent too many nights up thinking about how i wished it was my face stuffed into your chest instead of his,” sukuna grunted after a moment, before he reached down, lifting your (his) shirt up just rough to expose your heaving, bouncing breasts as he swatted your hand away from his pants, desperate to take his time with you. sukuna leaned down, pushing his face between your chest, letting your tits hug his face as he began to kiss down the valley of your breasts, before beginning to bite down into the plushy flesh, marking up your skin as he murmured into you, “i think i prefer doing it this way, though.”

you gasp, arching your back, whining as your pussy throbs, desperate for more of him, your legs shaking. “r-r-ryo! need you!” you cry out, moving your hands back to his hair, before feeling him reach down to his pajama pants and push them down, feeling the violent thwack! of his cock springing up, slapping your ass and overstimulated pussy, before hitting his stomach, some of his pre-cum splattering down onto you.

immediately, you look down, your eyes growing wide as you look at him, watching as his cock twitches and pulses, big enough to poke out above his own belly button, thick and hard and violently red, dripping with pre-cum and what you soon make out as cum, your cheeks turning red at the realization that he’d cum while eating you out, making sukuna chuckle as he grabbed your face with one hands, pinching your cheeks and redirecting your gaze up at him.

“see something you like?” sukuna chuckled, before pushing his thumb into your mouth as his hand cups and squishes your cheeks, his other hand pumping his cock a few times as he preps himself to stuff your needy cunt full of him. “you gonna be a good girl and take daddy’s cock, yeah?” he snickers down at you, watching as you weakly nod, your pussy throbbing at the word daddy, your stomach doing backflips as it becomes invaded by perverted butterflies. 

sukuna leans down, pressing his lips gently to your forehead, before he tilts your chin up, making you look him in the eyes and keeping your gaze up on him. “good girl. keep your eyes on daddy, okay? wanna see the look on your face when i fuck you stupid.” he murmurs, before watching as your eyes grow wide as he pushed the tip into you, your hips bucking up, a scream from the sting escaping your lips, muffled by sukuna’s thumb and his grip on your chin. “aw, i know, brat… daddy’s big, isn’t he? it’ll be okay. just suck on daddy’s thumb. bite down on it if you have to. daddy’s gonna go nice and slow for his needy little thing, okay?” he hummed down at you.

you weakly nod your head, the tears flooding out of our eyes and down your cheeks no longer a signal of pain and betrayal from your best friend and your boyfriend, but rather by the pain and pleasure of fucking your best friend’s sexy father and adjusting to such a big cock that was borderline inhuman. you whine, feeling as sukuna pushes a little more into you, stretching your walls open, and yet you can’t help but want to push and buck your hips up into him, desperate for him to fill you even more.

“keep your hips down and be patient, brat. you are going to take all of me, don’t worry.” sukuna grunts as he lets go of his cock, moving his hands to shove your hips down into the bed as he pushes himself deeper into you, causing you to see stars as he stretches your raw pussy open. you can feel his heartbeat with each throb, each curve of his pulsing veins, and every little drip of cum and pre-cum spilling into your pussy as he pushes himself into you, before finally he bottoms out, his head pressed snug against your deepest and most sensitive areas, before he ruts his hips, a sudden flooding feeling exploding inside of you as he cums the moment he bottoms out, a low groan erupting from his throat.

you gasp, sucking on his thumb as you feel how angrily and needily his cock pulses inside you as he fills you up, his fluids already dripping out of your bright red, straining hole. sukuna leans down, kissing your tears off your face, cooing down at you before he pulls his hips back slightly, only to push deeper into you. his hand swaps from your hips to your stomach, pressing down on your stomach- and the bulge he’s creating in it from his cock pushing so deeply into you- causing him to chuckle as he twists his hand just enough for his fingers to spread out across your swollen tummy and his thumb to press right up against your clit, rubbing circles on your needly bud as you suck harder on his thumb, biting down harshly on it when he starts to fuck himself into you, his thrusts growing meaner and more brutal as he speeds up his face, his bright red eyes growing wider and his pupils dilating as he pants slightly, chuckling to himself, his muscles sensing and squeezing and bulging from his arms and his hand as he loss himself in lust, staring down at where your bodies are so intimately intertwined.

“fuck, baby- such a filthy, tight fucking pussy you have for daddy,” he growls out, his hand 

holding your face tensing as he begins tp pummell his cock in and out of you, thrusting and slamming his hips against yours as your ankles manage to finally hook over his shoulders a bit, your feet turning so that they lock around the back of his neck and on the back of his head. “bastard’s a fucking idiot for missing out on this- fuck, you are squeezing me so tight, brat. this pretty pussy deserves so much better, baby… she doesn’t want a boy. no, she needs a man.” sukuna grumbles to himself, pushing himself deeper into you now, causing you to see stars as you cry and pant, sucking and biting on his thumb as your muffled moans and screams fill the room, your heart pounding as you feel your innards practically explode from how hard you cum on sukuna’s cock, your legs shaking as you sob, feeling him spill inside you again, pumping you full with yet another load of his thick, creamy cum.

as he pulls out of you, you pant, your head spinning from your intense orgasms, before you gasp, your body suddenly flipping as sukuna tosses you over so you’re laying flat on your stomach. one of his hands wraps around your throat from behind, squeezing onto you and restricting your air for a moment, making you see stars as you babble incoherently while he pushes back inside of you, his free hand snaking between your legs as he lifts you just enough for his second hand to return to its previous position, rubbing your clit with his thumb as his fingers and his palm take in just how deep inside of you he is while he brutally fucks up your guts with his insatiable cock.

“don’t give up on me yet, brat. i’m not even close to done with you.”

———

the next morning, the sun gently peeks into sukuna’s dark bedroom, his bedroom door just barely cracked open. sukuna’s bed is a mess, and you’re long out cold, covered in hickeys and bruises and handprints, your hair an untamed mess from sukuna tugging and pulling on it, your neck slathered in his marks, your entire unconscious body sore as sukuna spoons you from behind, clinging to you as the two of you sleep, tangled together after the night you spent together.

uraume, wearing far less markings than you with a tired face, drained and displeased from a night of unsatisfactory sex and then getting dumped since hakari can’t sneak around anymore and bought a ring for you and needed to be an honest man and settle down, walks up the stairs, pausing when they see their door hanging on barely by the hinges. they pause, walking past the bathroom, noticing clothes in the laundry hamper that are half-soaked and definitely belong to you, before uraume finally stops when they see your boots, coated in dried-mud, sitting right outside their father’s door…

uraume picks the boots up off the floor, huffing and grimacing, before they push open the rest of sukuna’s door, looking down at them, “dad, why are my best friend’s things there?! was she here last nig-”

uraume freezes, looking up as sukuna’s red eyes stare right in uraume’s own, your bare, sleeping body curled up into sukuna’s, still deep in a fucked-out sleep. sukuna just huffs, rolling his eyes, before he simply grumbles, “since you and her ex boyfriend are apparently so close, you can let hakari know not to worry. she’s in much better hands now.”

—————

masterlist! not proofread. please do not copy, steal, repost, and/or translate. copyright protected by blitziwitchwrites.

[bobur-the-berry-guy]

Random horny thoughts abt my fav blue lock men!

ᯓ★୭˚

•written in the trenches of the end of my period the power of sleep deprivation stress and my clit, enjoy

•made the banner myself too hihi (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

••requests are open btw

ft. Isagi, Hiori, Nanase, Bachira, Rin, Karasu, Yukimiya

Cw : 18+ obvi, afab!reader, biting, hickeys, oral (f/m receiving), fingering, jerking off, lowk sadism, rough, hand restriction, edging, overstimulation, sub/dom/switch dynamics kinda???, size difference kink, degradation and praise, being fucked in someone else's clothes, they're all kinda freaky in some way shape or form, generally just a horny post

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆.˚✮•𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂•✮˚.⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

ᯓ★୭˚ To preface this, i must say i want Isagi BAD. Anyway, everyone and their mama knows he has a thing for thighs. Yours especially. It's just the way they jiggle a bit when you walk, the way they shift when you move your hips and how they practically melt when you sit. In his eyes they're the most delicious thing he can lay his eyes upon. And the perfect earmuffs. He can spend hours between them, licking up your juices and playing you with his tongue. He keep you mostly clean, but that doesn't stop him from eating messy. By the time he's done pretty much his whole lower half of the face is soaked and dripping, sometimes he gets a but of it on his fringe too somehow. He gets off on just getting you off - the visual of you shaking and your teary face paired with your cute moans is more than enough for him.

more under the cut!

He likes it best when you're on your back or sitting on his face - he lives for the moments you squish his head with your thighs, drowing out any other sound and lowkey choking him like that. He doesn't care if he can't breathe or if it feels like he's gonna have his jaw relocated - do it! Squeeze his face, tug on his hair, put him in a headlock, squirm and trash around. To him that's only a sign he's doing his job well. And don't get me started on what a sucker he is for eye contact. When you look down at him with these wet eyes and you're doing your damnest not to roll them back in your head he might just cum in his pants.

"No, no— not yet. Let me keep going. Please."

Next morning you wake up and your legs still feel funny and you've got hickeys and little bites all over the insides of your thighs, and he's clinging onto you like a koala. Isagi really liked his meal.

He doesn't expect you to return the favour, but he won't stop you if you want to. He gets all shy and red, and he whimpers!! He's all twitchy and he can't keep his voice down, and his doing his hardest to look you in the eyes but it's so hard - he's too embarrassed about just how easily you have him like that yet he's too captivated by the sight in front of him to look away. He will hold your hair out of your face if he thinks it could be making it harder for you even in the slightest. Though he has to psychically stop himself from gripping your hair too hard or squishing your face with his thighs. Lowkey, I'd like him to squish my face with his thighs. #needthat

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

ᯓ★୭˚ I know lately everyone's been talking about the Hiori ultra-sadist thing, and you're here to listen to me talk about it too. Now, just let me speak. He's so cute and he's so gentle and careful with you outside of.. activities, but the second he's gotten you in bed it's like a switch flips. I don't think the fact that he's 6 fucking ft tall really registers until you're under him and he's caging you between him and the mattress. You've got nowhere to go and the look on his face tells you that you'll be staying there for a while.

Whatever you let him do, he will. His deal isn't pushing your bounderies but trying to see how far he can push you. And let me tell you he is skilled with his hands. He's making you almost cum over and over again until you're basically sobbing and begging him to just do it. Other thing he does every time is holding your wrists. He won't tie them, no - he wants to hold them together himself, making sure you can't touch neither him nor yourself. Might pinch your nipples if you let him. When he finally decides to let you finish he's not giving you more than a minute to catch a breath before he's sliding his dick in you. And he's not gonna go soft now either. The hand that he was getting you off with will be gripping your hips with enough force that you'll see faint bruises the next day, and when he's close to cumming himself he's gonna move it back down to play with your clit. He switches biting and sucking on your neck and kissing you until both of you need to break the kiss so you can breathe. Won't stop you if you bite him back though. With the way he's fucking you, you'd think he's on a mission to break the bed again. Your neighbours hate you.

"Ya like it that much, huh? Don't even try to keep quiet, or I'm gonna keep going till ya beg me to stop."

HIS ACCENT UGH. He won't shut up. He keeps talking and cooing even when he's pretty sure you can't even process a word anymore. It's like his goal is to fuck you senseless. It is actually

After it's over he's taking real good care of you. He's wiping you clean, bringing food n water, running a bath - the works. Whatever you say you want it's yours. What kind of a man is he if he pounds your brain out and doesn't treat you like a princess after? Though, he may press on the bruises and bites a bit to see you squirm before he gently kisses you again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

ᯓ★୭˚ Nanase is a simple man that knows what he wants - someone who can lead him. That counts in the bedroom too. Tell him what you want and you have it - he lives to make you happy. If it's your first time or you don't have an exact idea of what you want he's going gentle and sensual on you - he takes his time with everything. He's undressing you slowly, peeling each layer, kissing and caressing you all over. He holds your hand while he fingers you with the other, murmuring softly into your ear. And even when he finally slips his dick in you he still holds your hand, groaning and moaning into your mouth as he kisses you. All in all, he treats you like delicate china porcelain.

If you want him to rock your world he's more than ready. He's holding you by the hips and he's pouding into you like he hasn't touched you in a decade, leaving little crescent nail marks and biting your shoulder. He's going fast and hard, but if you want him too keep going for too long he's gonna get overstimulated himself and he's gonna be all jittery. He's real sensetive. The only thing he won't do is hitting you or degrading you - he can't bring himself to do that. Now, if you want to rock his world, he's more than happy and willing to sit back and let you do whatever you want with him. Bite him, scratch him, have fun - he likes it when you take the lead. And I'm gonna remind you he gets overstimulated easily. You could be denying his orgasm once or twice in a row an he's gonna be almost in tears, but it hurts so good. All he's gonna do is squeeze the bedsheets, or preferably, your hand and give you more room to work with. Likes it best when you're riding him and hes sitting with his back leaned to the pillows and headboard - he can feel your body pressed into his while you're boucing on him into oblivion, holding his hand and scratching him with the other while he's holding yours and squeezing your hips, foreheads pressed into each other as you try to kiss but you're both too out of it for it to be anything more that sloppy and uncoherent try that will end with a string of salive between the two of you.

"Ah— keep going— mh- ngh— just like that!"

He keeps babbling on, his accent making him sound even cuter. AGAIN THE ACCENT UGH. He begs you for something, and he's not even sure what exactly he's begging and sobbing over. He's whimpering and twitching and whining, and he's having the time of his life.

By the time you guys are done you're practically melting onto the matress, huffing and puffing and you're coming down from your high. Aftercare comes after a small window for you both to come back to your senses. You'd really need it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

ᯓ★୭˚ Bachira is a fucking pervert, and he's proud of himself for that too. He can't keep his grabby hands to himself - he's constantly holding and pinching your waist, feeling up your tits and ass, playing with the waistband of your pants. He's shameless. And that's while you're out in public too. Sometimes you'd have to drag him back home to do him so he can stop acting like that.. for today and maybe tomorrow.

You know the saying "great minds think alike"? Because, just like Isagi, this man could die suffocated between your legs and he'd die the happiest man on earth. And he's not quiet about it either. He's slurping and gasping and talking trough your juices as if he isnt tongue deep in you, bumping his nose into your clit and pinching it every now and than. He treats how many times he can many you cum like a game - the more, the higher the score. He's keeping track too. At some point he'd have to hold your legs apart so he can keep going at it, before you basically become like jelly anyway. If he decided he doesn't wanna eat you out anymore and finally wants to actually fuck you instead, he's having you in any position he can think of. And he's trying each at least twice too, just to be sure if you both really like it or if you did it correctly the first time.

"Ah— yeah, you like that! No, no, i wanna keep going—! You look so cute like that-, ngh—!

As i said, this man is NOT keeping it quiet. He doesn't see the point in it - if you're making him feel good why wouldn't he show it? Keeps the same mentality about you too. If you even try to quiet yourself down he's gonna go harder just to make you question if it's really worth trying to keep the volume down.

Next morning you wake up and see him as snug as a bug, staring at you all soft and innocent as if he didn't rearrange your guts in at least three different ways a few hours ago.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

ᯓ★୭˚ For someone as intense as Rin, you'd think he'd be rough, but in reality he's probably the most sensual and caring lover you could have. He'd be really unsure in the beginning, but it's not like he would show it anyway. He's never really been that close with anyone, definitely not nearly close or trusting enough to be so open and vulnerable. So if you've got him in bed, expect the intensity to be to the max. He's not gonna be nasty, but he's not holding himself back either.

He'd like it best when he can see your face well. None of that stuff where he can't see how glossy your eyes are or how good he's making you feel. He's already drooling from just that. He's holding your hand too. If you're under him, you're basically caged between him and the matress. One arm thrown over his neck and your legs over his waist, his face switching between being all up in ypur neck and inhaling your scent to kissing you sloppily, too pussy-drunk to really even kiss you well. You're clawing at his back from how deep he's going, and he's trying not to bust right then and there from just how good you sound moaning and whimpering in his ear. If you're on top of him, he'd have to be still at least to some extend sitting up so he can feel your torso brushing against his as you're bouncing on him. He's all about that skin to skin contact, as he is for the eye contact. He'd have to try real hard not to let his eyes roll into the back of his skull so he can still look at how good you look like that. If he notices you getting tired, he's taking the job in his own hand and will have you hold onto him and grab your hips to bounce you on his dick himself.

"Nhg— ah— yeah, just like that, keep your eyes on me— mmh!"

I don't think he'd really be loud, but he's noisy, you know? He can't keep himself silent. He's constantly letting out little sighs and groaning, along with the jolting and and the occasional trembling. And if you're treating him real good, he'd whimper too. I mean, imagine you're pretty much laying on top of him, kissing all over his face and neck, whispering softly as you're jerking him off with one hand and he's just.. whimpering. Whimperig and jolting. Join my whimpery Rin agenda.

And when you're finally done with it there's nothing on the planet that would make Rin move in the next few minutes. He's just holding you, trying to catch his breath. After that he'd have you both shower quickly, maybe grab some water and snack and back to bed you go. He's gonna be real cuddly after. He won't say much, but he'll hold you close and caress you lovingly every now and then until he falls asleep.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

ᯓ★୭˚ International backbender Karasu awakens something in me. Him and his bigass attitude n that bigass nose💕

He's gonna talk up a big game and that confidence is definitely rooted in something. I mean, this man is ginormous even if we're not talking about what's going on in his pants. Just seeing you looking up at him gets him going. Seeing how big he looks compared to you does something to him. All that is to say he's taking his sweet time with prepping you. You both know that if that doesn't happen and you guys just try to force his dick in with no prep, it would not be a good experience. That, and he just really likes teasing you. He'd start out with eating you out first, making sure you're nice and wet before slipping his fingers in. He's scissoring and circling against your cervix with his fingers while he switches between licking your clit and pressing his nose against it. To be honest, he doesn't even really need to use his fingers for all that long. When his hand gets tired he just eats you out until you cum against his mouth and nose.

Now, when he's finally sure he can fuck you without hurting you, he'll go slow at first. He's having you sandwiched between his body and the bed and he's slowly pumping in and out of you, making sure he's not going too fast too soon. And despite how gentle he wants to be, it's flaking off the more you moan and the more he looks at you going stupid over barely anything. And honestly, seeing how much he fills you you doesn't help him at all either. He's steadily pumping up the speed into a quick rhythm that makes your eyes roll, and along with that he keeps that same rhythm with his fingers on your clit. Only when he's just so close to cumming does the rhythm go unsteady and jerky.. but he's so cute like that it only makes it better.

"Tryin' to force it in yourself, huh? That's kinda hot. Don't ya think you'd need a little help first?"

He won't shut up. There isn't a power on this earth to make him shut up. He's gonna be talking and groaning and moaning the entire time, and honestly he wants you to be vocal too. He's got a thing for voices, so hearing you sass him back or try to babble something back through whimpers gets him going even more.

With all that energy he's got he could go a few rounds, but when it's all done he's so damn clingy. You're not going anywhere without him doting and leaning on you lovingly. After you're fresh and showered and back to bed he's acting like a koala. Head in your chest, arms around you, practically purring. And even then he's still talking. He's gonna talk, talk and talk.. talk into sleeping like a log. But just so you know, he snores a bit.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

ᯓ★୭˚ Your resident dreamboat Yukimiya is here. He's always so gentle and so sweet you can feel your teeth ache at just the sight of him. He's doting on you and always looking for a way to make you happy.. sigh, the things I'd do to that man. Anyway, regardless of just how charming he is, that doesn't mean he doesn't have his own crazy side. I mean, he is in the blue lock program after all. Have you seen anyone normal in there?

Said crazy side is his unmatched possessiveness. He won't act like some crazy jealous boyfriend but he's gonna make sure you and everyone else knows that you're with him, and he's gonna satisfy that possessive side too. He's proud to have you, so is it really so shameful to want everyone else to know that? Even with all that, he's gonna be sensual. He'll make sure you're all good and comfortable while he's balls deep in you, holding you close and breathing you in and whispering into the shell of your ear. Doesn't matter if you're under him or on top, you're chest to chest with him, clawing at his back and moaning into his ear while he's meticulously rearranging your guts. He makes sure to leave you breathless with kisses throughout the whole thing, only letting you get a few breaths in so he can leave a hickey or two somewhere.. he also has a thing for fucking you while you're wearing his clothes. If you're wearing his shirt he's tearing everything expect it right off and he's lifting it up just enough to see himself entering in and out of you. He he likes it a bit too much, but he can't help himself. He might cum a bit earlier than he'd like, but thankfully he has enough stamina for more than one round.

Also! If we're talking about the egoist bible and the canon fetishes, i wanna talk about my take on the ephemeral things. Honestly, my mind goes to a specific time of day, or specific ambience. I can see him liking to fuck you in certain light - he likes how play of light and shadow look on you. He likes it when the sun sets and the golden hour shines on you just right while he's bringing you to tears with just his fingers. He likes it when the dusk makes your bluish afterglow look even softer while you're recharging for the next round. He likes it when it's the dead of night and only the moon let's him see your gorgeous face changing expressions because of him, he likes the calm gentleness of it. He likes it right before the sun enters the horizon and it's just cool enough to keep you even closer so you can be warm while taking another orgasm out of you. I also think he's particular about the sound atmosphere - it's either a calm quiet, a playlist he's made or the sounds of the sea.

"You like that, love? Yeah, feels good— mmmh—!"

Oh he's not keeping his mouth shut. He's got a good voice and he knows it. He's murmuring right in your ear, either talking you trough it and what to do now or whimpering about how good you make him feel and how gorgeous you look fucked out like that. If he's not talking he's moaning and whimpering softly, but he's still loud enough to make you soaked with just noises.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆.˚✮•𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂•✮˚.⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

When you're all done and finished he's holding you like you're the dearest thing to walk on this earth. He's talking in your ear all soft and gooey about how gorgeous you are and good you made him feel, and after a while of holding and sweetness he's bringing you to the bathroom to freshen up before returning to the bedroom again.

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ★｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+° as always, requests are open!

•made yukimiyas part just a but longer bc it was his bday recently so have a treat :P

[dakusan]

S K Z   D I C K   A N A L Y S I S

stray kids ot8 x reader | field research, god-tier dick, you won’t walk tomorrow

🖤 synopsis: eight men. sixteen hands. one universal truth: they’re all built different. this isn’t a thirst post. it’s a forensic study. a field report. a soul-snatching gospel of hips, tongues, and the quiet cruelty of a man who knows how to fuck. some of them worship you. some of them destroy you. all of them leave you shaking. welcome to the skz dick analysis. we’re not just rating dick. we’re decoding it.

💌a/n: i don’t even know how we got here. one second i was sipping tea like a sane person, the next i was writing about han jisung crying in your arms post-nut while “That That” by PSY (feat. yoongi, because of course) blasted in the background. filth. absolute filth. but you know what? it’s what they deserve. it’s what we deserve. also if it wasn’t obvious by now — yeah. my favourite colour is red. has been for years. red + black is a whole era. i don’t just want to write skz dick analysis… i want to bleed it in velvet. p.s. reblog this post like it gave you a hickey p.p.s. tag your bias & cry about it in the notes p.p.p.s. give some love to Flavor click the link or don't

⚠️warnings: : 18+ ONLY (MDNI) — explicit sexual language and themes, kink-based character analysis, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, praise, overstimulation, body worship, size kink, oral fixation, possessive behavior, creampie mentions, implied breeding, power imbalance, aftercare, emotional collapse, use of pet names (e.g. "good girl"), choking, mirror play, neck biting, fear of God inserted through dick game, and aggressive levels of brainrot. all fictional, all consensual, and all unhinged.

🎶now playing: "Flavor" – VX

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

BANG CHAN // 방찬

Length: 6.5" – 7", but it’s not the size that breaks you — it’s the command. It’s the way he angles himself just right, drags it out slow at first, then gives you everything when you’re begging prettily.

Thickness: Thick and hefty, the kind that makes you gasp when he slides in. Veins you can trace with your fingers. Warm, weighty, always throbbing against your thigh when he gets needy.

Stroke Game: Rhythmic. Calculated. Insane. He doesn’t just fuck — he directs. One hand pinning your hips, the other on your throat, whispering “Take it like a good girl. You’re doing so well.” Alternates between deep, punishing thrusts and slow, ruinous rolls that leave your legs shaking. You’ll lose count of your orgasms — he won’t.

Cum: Heavy. Warm. Deep. He always finishes inside — slow thrusts, gritted teeth, holding your hips still as he fills you up. Groans in your ear, “Fuck, you take me so well.” The kind that drips out for hours and makes you blush when you shift in your seat the next day. Breeds you like he means it, like it’s a ritual, not a reflex.

Dick Game Verdict: He doesn’t just fuck you — he orchestrates your undoing. With precision. With obsession. With love so filthy it makes you sob. You’ll forget your name. You’ll remember his.

Lee Know // 리노

Length: 6.5" — sleek and sculpted like everything else he owns. Elegant curve, perfect for that spot. His hips do most of the talking. He knows what he’s working with.

Thickness: Just enough to make you stretch and shudder. Not monstrous — but deceptively perfect. Every thrust feels like a calculated violation of your sanity. Fit like a lockpick, not a sledgehammer.

Stroke Game: Deliberate. Cruel. Precise. The kind of man who watches your face while you fall apart and smiles. He’ll edge you with shallow strokes until you’re begging, then snap his hips once and have you seeing stars. Minimal movement, maximum destruction.

Cum: Warm. Coats your insides with slow thrusts and low moans. Doesn’t always finish inside — sometimes he likes to paint your stomach, your thighs, your tongue. But when he does finish in you, he makes you stay full. “Don’t let a drop go to waste.” Then fingers it back in while whispering, “Good girl.”

Dick Game Verdict: Not loud. Not messy. Just lethal. He’ll fuck you like a science. Break you in silence. Leave you so ruined, you’ll flinch when someone says his name. He never rushes. Because he knows — when he’s done? You’ll never look at anyone else the same again.

Changbin // 창빈

Length: 6" — don’t let the number fool you. It’s the girth that has you blacking out mid-thrust. Short king? Try wrecking ball. When he slides in, you feel every inch, every time. You’ll swear it grew mid-session. It didn’t. Your walls are just traumatized.

Thickness: Unholy. We’re talking stretch-your-soul level. You’ll see stars before he even bottoms out. Has that heavy, veiny, “you’re not ready for this” kind of presence. Leaves you breathless, wrecked, and praying for a second round you know you can’t survive.

Stroke Game: Rhythmic. Punishing. Zero brakes. Thrusts like a gym playlist — fast, powerful, relentless. No teasing, no build-up — just impact. You’re folded in half, being pounded like a drumline, choking on your own moans while he’s still breathing steady. “C’mon, baby. You can take it.”

Cum: Heavy. Sticky. Endless. Loves finishing inside — but also loves watching it drip out of you. Will thumb it back in just to see you flinch. Grabs your chin after and says, “What’s wrong, baby? Thought you wanted all of me.” Leaves bruises. Leaves marks. Leaves memory loss.

Dick Game Verdict: He’s not just built. He’s built for destruction. You’ll scream. You’ll tap out. You’ll beg — and he’ll just tilt his head and go, “Already?” Sex with him isn’t just a night. It’s a full-body event. And he’s the headline, main act, and afterparty.

Hyunjin // 현진

Length: 7 – 7.5" — long, elegant, dangerous. The type that makes you gasp when he pushes in slowly, watching your face with hooded eyes like he knew it would hit that deep. Fills you up like he’s been dreaming about it for days.

Thickness: Sleek but firm — a velvet blade. Enough to stretch you, but it’s the depth he reaches that changes you. The curve? Unfair. Like it was sculpted to kiss your g-spot just to hear what you sound like when you lose composure.

Stroke Game: Flowy. Deliberate. Unfathomably deep. He starts slow. One hand gripping your thigh, the other tilted under your chin, lips barely touching yours. Once you’re a whimpering mess? He speeds up just enough to overwhelm you. The hips don’t lie — and they destroy. “Take all of it, baby. I’m not stopping.”

Cum: Slow, hot, emotional. Finishes deep with long strokes, burying himself fully as he breathes your name like a prayer. Moans in your ear while holding your waist tight. Likes to cum inside — watches it drip out with dazed eyes and kisses you between the legs like an apology.

Dick Game Verdict: He doesn’t fuck. He haunts. Every moan is a poem. Every thrust is a love letter sealed with bruises. He’ll make you feel like a canvas and leave your body shaking like he wrote a sonnet with his hips. You’ll walk home sore and smiling. And you’ll want him again immediately.

Han // 한

6" — average but deceptively powerful. It’s not the size that ends you. It’s the way he uses it — every thrust hitting just right because he’s memorized every inch of your body like it’s his favorite song. You’ll forget air exists.

Thickness: Slightly girthy with just the right stretch. Has that perfect snug fit — enough to make you gasp, never too much to tap out early. Just the way he likes it: “I wanna feel all of you squeezing around me.”

Stroke Game: Fast. Desperate. Unhinged. He fucks like he’s trying to get you addicted. Starts off whimpering and soft, then kicks into overdrive when you praise him. Slams into you with frantic rhythm like his soul depends on it. You’re drooling, overstimulated, and he’s still muttering, “One more. Just one more, please.” (Lie. It’s never just one.)

Cum: Hot, fast, everywhere. Finishes with a long, desperate groan — body trembling, fingers digging into your hips. Might cum inside without realizing because he’s too far gone. Or on your chest while panting apologies like “I couldn’t hold it, you were too good.”

Dick Game Verdict: He’s your emotional support slut. Will rail you to pieces and then cry in your arms. Sex with him feels like a confession, a breakdown, and a fireworks show all in one. You don’t just cum — you ascend.

Felix // 필릭스

Length: 6.5" – 7" — smooth and beautiful. Not too much. Not too little. It’s the kind of dick you see once and think about forever. The first thrust always makes your breath hitch — not because of size, but because of how intentional it feels. Like he’s been waiting for this.

Thickness: Just right — sleek and filling. Perfect pressure, perfect stretch, perfect rhythm. You don’t get overwhelmed, you get hooked. Hits that spot and stays there, grinding slow, deep, and steady until you’re breathless.

Stroke Game: Deep. Rhythmic. Lethal. The slow strokes kill you. It’s the way he grinds, chest pressed to yours, whispering soft filth in that low voice — “You’re so pretty like this… all mine.” Will go harder if you ask, but he prefers to fuck you through eye contact and emotional damage. Makes you melt, then makes you moan.

Cum: Warm, slow, and intensely possessive. Finishes with a deep groan and wraps his arms around you instantly. Fills you up and doesn’t pull out — “I wanna stay like this a little longer.” Watches it leak out of you with a dazed look and kisses your trembling thighs.

Dick Game Verdict: He doesn’t just make love — he devours your soul. You’ll cry, you’ll shake, you’ll feel cherished and wrecked. Sex with Felix is like being adored into submission. You’ll never recover — and you’ll never want to.

Seungmin // 승민

Length: 6" — but don’t get comfortable. He doesn’t need to be huge — the control, the angles, the timing is what sends you to the ER. Slides in like he’s done it a thousand times in his head. Because he has. “Told you I’d fit perfectly.”

Thickness: Sleek and dangerous. Just enough to fill you right — just enough to make you squirm. He lives for the moment you exhale and say, “Oh my god…” because he already knew it would feel that good. He's been patient. Calculating. Now you're his problem.

Stroke Game: Controlled. Cruel. Clinical. Each thrust is calculated. Each change in rhythm is intentional. The kind of sex where he grabs your jaw mid-stroke, leans in with a smirk, and says: “You’re so loud. You trying to get caught?” You’ll cry. He’ll coo. And then he’ll go deeper.

Cum: Hot. Possessive. Intentional. Loves cumming inside — and watching it leak. Will plug you up with his fingers and say, “You’re not wasting a drop.” Doesn’t make a sound when he finishes — just a quiet gasp and clenched jaw like he’s in complete control even now.

Dick Game Verdict: He’s a fucking weapon. Not loud. Not flashy. Just precision-based annihilation. He’ll gaslight you into thinking it wasn’t even that intense — while you’re still shaking 30 minutes later. You’ll never win. But you’ll beg to lose again.

I.n // 아이엔

Length: 6.5" — a sleeper hit. You don’t expect it to hit like that… until it does. And then you’re arching, twitching, grabbing sheets with a voice you didn’t know you had. He gives you that deep, shaky breath before sliding in like, “Tell me if it’s too much.” (It is. But you won’t dare say no.)

Thickness: Slim but deadly. Slides in too easily. And that’s the trap. He gets deeper than he should, hits angles that make you shiver, and then stays there. Tilts his hips, watches your eyes roll back, and just smiles. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Stroke Game: Evolving. Dangerous. Addictive. At first, he watches you — every gasp, twitch, stutter. Then one day he finds a rhythm that makes you break and he never lets it go. From then on, it’s deep, slow, purposeful fucking. Holds your hands down. Bites your neck. Makes you beg with a soft whisper: “Louder, baby. Let them hear who owns you.”

Cum: Hot, messy, unexpectedly filthy. Finishes with a choked gasp and a twitchy thrust, still buried inside you, whispering your name. Then collapses on top of you, breathless and shaking. Sometimes asks if he can stay in a little longer. Sometimes goes again while you’re still twitching.

Dick Game Verdict: He is the sweetest weapon you’ll ever encounter. You think it’s cute until your legs are shaking, your brain’s gone, and he’s pulling you in for another round with a soft, dangerous smile. He didn’t ask to break you — but now that he has? He’ll never let anyone else put you back together.

[fixated-cookies]

nghghgh all i can think about is jealous pure vanilla + fucking the jealousy out </33 I NEED him so bad it's not even fair </33

my brain exploded writing this MDNI

It all started with a simple, elegant interaction.

A visiting noble from the neighboring Vanilla region—a refined gentleman Cookie with a sugar-dusted mustache and far too much charm—took your hand delicately in his gloved fingers. He bowed. Gracefully. Classically.

Pressed his lips to your knuckles.

And praised you.

“A blossom as rare as you should not be kept in the shade. You deserve to be adored in full sunlight.”

His voice was a murmur. Gentle. Flattering. Appropriate.

And yet…

You felt Pure Vanilla Cookie's gaze before you even turned your head. That soft presence, that warmth—he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t said a word.

You didn’t notice the way his eyes opened fully for once. You didn’t see the twitch of something dark behind the gold and blue.

Later. Behind the closed doors of your shared quarters. It’s silent.

You try to speak, maybe even joke.

He cuts you off gently.

“Did you enjoy it?”

The question is simple. Soft. Utterly terrifying.

You blink. “Wh-what?”

His hands are so tender, cupping yours. His smile is there, but it's tighter. His fingers stroke the spot where that noble’s lips had touched.

“The kiss. The compliment. His voice, his hands. Was it sweet? Was it sweeter than mine?”

You try to reassure him, but the look in his eyes is… shattering. The crack in that ever-composed mask. That trembling silence of a man who has never known fury like this before.

He kisses your hand—slow, deliberate, lingering.

“I’m going to kiss you everywhere he didn’t.”

Another kiss. Higher on your wrist. Then your elbow. Your throat.

“And then…” he murmurs, voice dropping like honey off a spoon, “…I’m going to fuck the idea of him out of you.”

His trembling hands glide over your body as if in worship. The silken robes he always wears are discarded with less grace than usual. There’s something raw behind his movements tonight. No pomp. No ceremony. No soft-spoken control.

Only him. Only his need.

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your chest—but he’s quiet. Not speaking. His lips shake against your skin, like he’s biting down words he’s too ashamed to say aloud.

Until he finally breaks.

“I try,” he whispers, voice cracking like old glass. “I try to be enough for you. I try to be patient. Gentle. Good.”

His forehead presses to your collarbone. He’s breathing hard, body trembling with restrained hunger. He’s always been the composed one. The light. The guide.

But tonight, he’s just a man. A man who aches.

“But when I saw him touch you—” He swallows, painfully. “—I realized something awful. I’m not kind because I’m holy.” “I’m kind because I’m terrified of losing you.”

He raises his head. His eyes are open again. Fully. Shining. Tears glitter along his lashes, but he doesn’t look away.

“Tell me you love me.” “Not out of pity. Not out of mercy.” “Tell me you choose me.”

Your hand cups his cheek. And that’s all it takes.

His control snaps. --

He moans—quiet and high, like he’s been holding it back for centuries—and presses into you with aching need. Every thrust is deep, and slow, and so reverent it hurts. He’s whispering your name like a chant, his hands shaking as they clutch your waist, your hips, your throat.

“Only you,” he gasps. “Only you make me feel this. This—alive.”

He sobs into your neck when you wrap your legs around him, desperate to be closer, to be claimed.

“Please, please, let me stay like this… Let me give you everything.”

Your name falls from his lips over and over. His body is pressed so close you feel him in your soul—warmth and light and need all fused into one, driven to ruin by you.

Your fingers dig into his back as he rocks into you with trembling control—each thrust slow, deep, meaningful, but growing sloppier by the second. His golden hair hangs in his face, sweat beading at his temple, his mouth hanging open in breathless awe.

"You're—" he gasps, voice rasping, "you're perfect... You always are... I can't—"

He leans in, lips brushing yours but not kissing—just hovering, like he's afraid a kiss would make him come undone completely. But the way you're clutching at him, the way your hips meet his with every thrust... he's faltering.

“Look at me.”

His voice sharpens, firmer than you’ve ever heard it. A rare break in his soft tone.

“Please... don't look away. I want to see your eyes—when I give you everything.”

Your gaze meets his—and he shudders. His hips jerk. His rhythm falters.

And then he’s gone.

“Ah—! I—!”

The cry rips from his throat as he spills into you with a broken moan, his entire body convulsing from the force of it. “Mmh—hnngh—y-you’re mine—mine—mine—” he babbles, chest pressed to yours, hips still twitching as he pulses deep inside, his magic glowing faintly between your joined bodies.

His hands claw at the sheets beside your head, trying not to crush you beneath him as he empties himself—years of restraint, love, jealousy, everything poured into one desperate release. He groans your name again, a low, reverent chant that sounds like a man praying in tongues.

And he doesn't stop moving. He keeps grinding into you, gently, slowly, like he’s trying to push it deeper. Like he thinks he can bury it inside your heart.

His lips find your cheek, your temple, your shoulder—"I love you, I love you, I love you"—whispered between panting, dizzy gasps.

When his body finally stops shaking, he collapses forward, still buried in you, forehead resting against your chest.

“Forgive me,” he breathes, kissing your skin. “I just... I needed to know I was yours. I needed to feel it. To fill you.”

And there’s so much of him inside. Warm. Sticky. Claiming.

And he’s not pulling out.

[chiibabie]

HII just wanted to let you know that I absolutely ADORE your works and wanted to request! is my first time requesting here

rin x reader

like when they fuck reader always has to cling into rin while fucking or after rin finishes he always finds reader clinging or hugging him so tight?

if it’s too much or uncomfortable for you then feel free to not write! <3

you're currently straddling rin, hands wrapped around his neck and stuffing your face into his shoulder as your hips move in lazy circles. his cock was buried so deep, filling you up so much in this position.

"rin, feels so good.." you whine softly. "mm- need more.."

his jaw tightens, hands gripping your hips. he speaks in a low voice, almost as if he's irritated. "tch... get off."

you whimper, clinging tighter and rocking your hips onto him as you mumble "no..don't wanna...'m so full of you, rinnie.."

"you're so annoying," rin mutters, although there's no bite to it. he thrusts up into you, causing you to cry out. he's giving you slow, deep strokes, and his grip tightens on your waist as he makes sure to hold you down in place on his cock after each thrust. "..always whining."

"rinnn, you're so big inside me.." you whine, holding desperately onto him. his eyes narrow as he says that "you're being dramatic. it's not that big."

you try to wiggle around in rin's lap, but his grip locks you in place. you're trembling, panting into his shoulder as your eyes are lidded. you breathe out, voice shaky and desperate as you whine, "rinnnieee, i can't- can't take it.."

he exhales sharply before lifting you off of him and flipping you onto your back, resulting in a gasp from you. rin doesn't waste any time before gripping your hips and slamming into you again, causing you to let out small whimpers. "s-stop whining. I'll take care of it, just-.. f-fuck, pussy's so tight.." he mutters. you let out a loud sigh as you hold onto his biceps, head against the pillow and moaning so loud to the point rin comments on how "you're so loud when you want something."

he starts moving, a little slow at first. as he starts to move with more force, your nails dig into the muscle of his biceps to anchor yourself. rin grabs your jaw with one hand and groans that "you're so needy."

and maybe you really are. with the way rin filled you and the way he looked down at you, you clench around his cock as you choke out a moan, "o-oh...feels too good aaaghh.. need you to stay inside, please rinnieeee-!"

"greedy." he mutters, slamming back into you. "begging for cock while you're already full."

you can only node in desperation. with your mind so fuzzy, you let out sobs as you tell him that you're about to cum. voice shaking as you breathe out, "mmngh, just like that rin.. don't stop, please.."

he scoffs, voice low as he asks if you're really "gonna cum just from this?"

you cry out as his thrusts start getting more sloppy, your own body getting completely overwhelmed as your orgasm washes over you. "rin, rin- rrrinniee, I'm- ah--!"

your back arches as you cum, holding onto his biceps like your life depends on it. rin doesn't stop but instead keeps going as he's chasing his own release. you move to wrap your arms around his neck, whimpering against his chest and panting out "i want it inside, inside please.."

"you're insane," he murmurs. however, when you legs wrap around his waist, he loses it, asking if you "wanna get filled up? so much it leaks that it leaks even when I'm inside, huh?"

your body is arching into his, begging him to finish inside since you. "wanna feel it so baddd.."

"you're so damn noisy."

he pulls back to look at you. the sight of you all teary eyed causes him to grip your hips almost painfully as he spills all his cum inside you. "take it, fuck," he says, through gritted teeth. he pushes you down onto the mattress, causing you to unrelease your arms around his neck as they fall down. he's caging you down and pressing his chest onto your body, causing your tits to get smooshed against him. you throw your head back against the pillow and your hands go to grip his shoulders instead.

with how he's pushing you down right now, his cock twitches so much inside you. he throbs and stuffs you so full you swear it's going to leak out before he even pulls out.

the two of you lay in silence for a bit after with your body still limp under rin. your eyes are threatening to close and your legs start to slowly unravel around him since you don't have enough energy to keep them wrapped around his waist. his cock slowly softens inside you. but he doesn't pull out and his hands are still holding onto your waist, keeping you pinned down.

"you're warm," he acknowledges, voice low and rough. '"still so wet."

you barely manage to nod, whimpering when you feel him twitch inside of you again. "...you're gonna do it again?" you whisper, eyes hazy and lips parted just a little.

"I wasn't done." he states, rather bluntly.

and he starts to move again.

it's slow at first. he drags his half hard cock in and out of your pussy, pulling out a little farther before pushing back in, resulting in lewd sounds. his cum was still inside you, practically dripping now. he continued to fuck it deeper into your pussy, and you gasp out, "rin..oh god.."

rin huffs as your nails start to claw at his back. he leans down and bites your shoulder lightly, telling you that he's "gonna fill you again, until you really can't hold it."

you were already so exhausted, but you clung onto him, needy and shaking.

"all that cum inside and you're still so needy.."

you roll your hips upward, trying to meet his thrusts.

he was fucking into you hard, rough, and his cock was so deep inside of you. you felt your eyes roll back as your legs began to spread wider to accommodate to his thrusts. you're such a mess, sweaty and holding onto him like he'll disappear if you don't.

rin finally came again, he shoved himself so deep it was enough to make you go fully limp as your legs dropped. his cum, mixing with the previous load, was just too much for you.

when he pulls out, his cum is leaking. you whimper his name and he goes to hold you in his arms as the both of you collapse on the messy, soaked bedsheets. you bury your face deeper into his chest, body pressed so close rin could feel every inch of you.

he sighs, saying that “you’re too clingy..”. although when you whine again, he’s breathless as he groans out “okay okay, stop whining..”

you hummed contentedly. “wanna stay close to you rinnie…”

rin sighs again. there’s no real annoyance of course, and he mumbles “you’re impossible.”

“want you to hold me forever rin.”

“fine.” he grunts.

“promise?” you ask.

rin doesn’t say anything in response, but he doesn’t have to. you already know his answer when you feel him hold you even tighter to himself. deep down, he loved that you never wanted to let him go, even if he never really showed it.

heyy thank you for requesting im glad u like my writing! ur idea was so good so i hope u liked this <3

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 || 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 ||

A/n: Got asked to write a second part so here it is when Steve does not stay in the 1940's but returns to the Reader instead

Warnings: Soft / desperate smut

The wind is sharp and biting, a constant chill against Steve’s skin as he steps back onto the platform.

His breath hitches, eyes sweeping over the room. Bucky is there, jaw clenched, waiting. Sam stands beside him, brow furrowed in confusion. The air is heavy, thick with tension and unspoken questions.

But Steve’s eyes search for only one person.

You.

You’re standing at the back of the room, arms wrapped around yourself, eyes wide and disbelieving. Your chest rises and falls with rapid, shallow breaths, and your lips part as you stare at him.

Steve feels the weight of it — everything he almost lost, everything he nearly gave up. And he knows. God, he knows.

Peggy was his past. A memory frozen in time, a life that could never be.

But you — you’re his now. You’re his future.

He steps forward, his boots heavy against the platform. Bucky and Sam exchange a glance but say nothing. It’s Bucky who steps back, a subtle nod in Steve’s direction, his expression soft and understanding.

Steve doesn’t break eye contact with you as he closes the distance, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

You’re trembling, tears glistening in your eyes as you stare up at him. “Steve,” you whisper, your voice so small, so broken. “You… you came back.”

Steve swallows thickly, his own eyes shining. “I couldn’t leave you,” he says, his voice rough and low. “I thought… I thought she was what I wanted. What I needed.” He shakes his head, the words tumbling out of him. “But she’s not. You are.”

It's the truth, and it was something he was so close to losing. He can almost see it, a flash in his eyes, a look into another future, another time line when you are no longer his.

And god he hates that.

Your lips tremble, a sob escaping as you cover your mouth with a shaking hand. “Steve…”

“I was an idiot,” Steve continues, his voice breaking. “The moment I got trapped in that ice… I stopped being hers. I was never hers again. I’ve been yours ever since I woke up. And I nearly threw it away.”

A single tear slips down your cheek, and Steve can’t take it anymore. He closes the distance, his hands cupping your face as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes, the words heavy and thick with emotion. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart.”

Your hands rise to clutch his wrists, your fingers digging into his skin as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear again. “I thought… I thought you left me,” you choke out, your voice cracking. “I thought you chose her over me.”

Steve shakes his head, pressing a soft, desperate kiss to your forehead. “Never again,” he promises, his lips trembling against your skin. “I’m home. I’m right here. With you. Always.”

Your sobs break free then, and Steve pulls you against his chest, arms wrapping around you as if he could hold all your shattered pieces together. You clutch at his back, fingers fisting in his shirt as you bury your face in his neck.

Steve closes his eyes, breathing you in, feeling the warmth of your body against his. This — this is home. Not a dance in the past, not a memory of what could have been.

This. You. Here and now.

And he’s never letting go again.

Steve’s lips crash against yours the moment the door closes behind you.

His hands are everywhere — cupping your jaw, sliding down your back, gripping your waist as if he’s terrified you’ll disappear. His breath is ragged, mingling with yours, each kiss deeper, more desperate than the last.

You whimper against his mouth, fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer, closer. The air between you is electric, charged with all the words left unsaid, all the aching, gut-wrenching longing.

“Missed you,” Steve growls, his voice thick, his hands sliding beneath your shirt, his palms searing against your skin. “God, missed you so much.”

His lips move to your neck, sucking, biting, marking, as if he needs to prove to himself that you’re real, that you’re here. Your head falls back, a moan slipping free as his teeth graze the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

“Steve,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you down the hall, his eyes locked on yours, dark and desperate.

Your back hits the wall, and he pins you there, his hips grinding against yours, the thick, hard length of him pressing against your core through his jeans. The friction sends sparks shooting up your spine, and you arch against him, rolling your hips to meet his.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his forehead dropping to yours, his chest heaving. “Need you. Need you right now.”

You shiver, your hands scrambling to tug his shirt up and over his head, your fingers skimming over the hard planes of muscle, the warmth of his skin. He’s solid beneath your touch, real and here and yours.

“Take me,” you whisper, voice trembling. “Steve, please.”

He groans, pressing another bruising kiss to your lips before carrying you to the bedroom, the journey a blur of heated kisses and wandering hands.

When he lays you down on the bed, his eyes roam over you, dark and intense, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You reach for him, fingers hooking into his waistband, tugging him closer.

But he catches your wrists, pinning them above your head as he hovers over you, his gaze burning into yours. “You’re mine,” he growls, voice a rough, needy rasp. “You’re mine, and I need you to know that.”

You nod, breath hitching, thighs clenching as his knee presses between your legs, spreading you wider beneath him. “I’m yours,” you breathe, voice cracking. “Always.”

A shudder rolls through him, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, devouring, consuming. His hands are everywhere, tearing away your clothes, his lips trailing down your neck, over your collarbone, down to your breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the hardened peak, and you cry out, hips bucking up against him.

“Steve,” you gasp, back arching off the bed as he moves lower, his mouth blazing a path down your stomach, teeth grazing your hip bones.

When he settles between your thighs, his breath hot against your aching core, you whimper, fingers fisting in the sheets. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and the raw hunger in them makes your heart stutter.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice reverent as he drags his tongue up your slit, slow and deliberate. Your legs tremble, a moan spilling from your lips as he circles your clit, sucking gently before plunging his tongue inside you.

You’re a trembling, moaning mess beneath him, your hips rocking against his face, thighs quivering as he devours you like a man starved. The heat builds, tighter and tighter, until you’re sobbing his name, your body shattering beneath him.

But he doesn’t stop.

Steve rises, his lips shiny with your slick, and he shoves his jeans down, his cock springing free, thick and hard and dripping. He crawls over you, pressing the blunt head against your entrance, his eyes locked on yours.

“You ready?” he rasps, voice strained, his jaw tight as he holds himself back.

“Yes,” you breathe, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his lower back. “Please.”

He pushes in, slow and deep, and the stretch burns, the sensation of him filling you so perfectly, so completely, that you can’t help the cry that escapes your lips.

Steve shudders, a groan ripping from his throat as he bottoms out, hips flush against yours. He stills, chest heaving, his forehead dropping to yours as he breathes you in.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “So perfect. So mine.”

“Yours,” you echo, clinging to him as he begins to move, slow and deep, each thrust hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.

His hands slide beneath you, lifting your hips higher as he fucks you harder, deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Your nails rake down his back, your cries growing louder, his name a litany on your lips.

“Say it,” he growls, his pace brutal now, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “Say you’re mine.”

“Yours,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cling to him, your body writhing beneath him. “I’m yours, Steve. Always.”

And that’s all it takes. Steve’s thrusts grow frantic, his movements rough and desperate as he chases his release, his eyes locked on yours.

“Come with me,” he grits out, his thumb circling your clit, his cock hitting that spot over and over until you’re falling apart beneath him, your body tightening, spasming, as you shatter around him.

Steve follows with a hoarse, broken moan, his hips jerking, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he spills himself, his face buried in your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

You hold him as he trembles above you, your hands stroking through his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring him to you.

And when he finally lifts his head, his eyes soft and vulnerable, you cup his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as you whisper, “You’re home.”

Steve closes his eyes, a tear slipping free as he presses a kiss to your palm.

“Yeah,” he breathes, voice shaking. “I’m home.”

[keepingitformyself]

but i am flesh and blood (and this flesh has needs) ii

synopsis: even with the snow finally melted you find yourself questioning whether it’s even possible to protect the girl you love from something that doesn’t bleed. or is she too far gone to come back?

pairings: lottie matthews x reader

genre: angst, violent themes, fluff.

warnings: blood, typical yellowjackets violence.

word count: 4.3k

read the first part here

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

three months before the spring.

it doesn't feel as cold as it used to. but that doesn’t help much when you’ve spent the past few weeks crammed in some splintering wooden hut with everyone else. it doesn’t ease the weight of losing the cabin that still burns despite its ultimate collapse weeks ago.

the snow still bites at your skin when the wind gets harsher. your ribs still ache with the hunger you’ve grown accustomed to. but lottie still holds you close despite it all. she still whispers silent prayers with her arms wrapped around you. she lets you cry into the curve of her neck when you need to. she says, ‘i love you’ like it’s the only truth she’s never cracked. she looks at you like you’re the one thing that’s always felt real.

and you kiss her when you need to remember that she’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt for you out here.

you start to have dreams shortly after the cabin burns down. sometimes they’re pleasant. dreams of you living another life. a life where you still play soccer, where lottie is there loving you, like nothing bad has ever touched you both. like, there wasn’t some strange and unfortunate string of fate that brought you together.

other times, the dreams are cruel, scarier. the cabin is there, whole again, but nothing about it feels right. people who shouldn’t be there are alive. greying, blue corpses that talk. you smell the smoke, but there’s no fire. and you feel the heat despite feeling the harsh wind of the cold blowing through the hut.

when the flames finally do come, you shoot awake from your sleep. your breathing is laboured, and tears stain your cheeks. lottie is already there to hold your hand. like it’s some twisted routine you’ve both come up with. you never ask, she doesn’t either. she’s just always there, like maybe she was waiting for you to come back.

you think maybe she was. maybe she also has the same dreams.

one night, when the dreams seem more brutal, lottie is there again to hold you close. you wake in quiet sobs enough to wake the others up. lottie cradles you, holds you close to her chest, and you let the sound of her breathing ground you as you sob into her collarbone.

“you’re safe,” she repeats into your hair. you believe it. because god has never answered your prayers the way she did.

the others watch with worried expressions. natalie looks at you like she’s uncertain of something. tai looks like she wants to reach for you as well, but never does, once catching lottie’s gaze. and shauna doesn’t look at all.

later that day, when you’re supposed to be sourcing wood to build with, you catch lottie again. she’s crouched by a tree, looking distantly at it as if it were speaking to her. you don't announce yourself; instead, she’s already meeting your gaze before you call for her.

“lottie,” you say, but it sounds like a plea. you drop down beside her, her hands reaching for your face.

“what is it?” she asks, but it sounds like she’s barely even here. and you don’t notice how tears start streaming down your face until she’s trying to wipe them off with her thumbs.

“what’s wrong?” she asks again, this time more present. you feel the warmth of her breath hitting your face.

you shake your head, trying to move her hands off you. but she holds on tighter.

“no,” you manage to say.

“what?” she searches your face.

“you have to promise me something,” you say once finally clutching her hands in yours.

lottie looks at you, searching out of confusion, or nervousness, or both.

“look at me,” you say low, but pointedly. “please, look at me.”

“i’m here,” she whispers, “i’m looking.”

you move one of her hands to press against your chest, over your heart.

“do you feel this? the way it beats?”

she nods her head. eyebrows furrowed, “i feel it. i feel you.”

“it means i believe in you,” you whisper, “it means i love you.”

a beat.

“i need you to believe in us, too.”

there’s an agonizingly long pause in between. lottie stays still. like, she won’t answer. like, she can't. but you see the tremble in her lips, the wetness of her eyes starting to show. she gulps down the knot in her throat because, sometimes, she feels like she doesn’t know how to love you without letting this place eat her whole.

lottie knows exactly what you’re asking. understands exactly why you’re asking it. but, nevertheless, she knows. it’s the only thing she feels she’s ever known. the kind of thing that feels like it’s never slipped away. not like the trees she prays to. not like the voices that won’t speak to her.

because in the space between, out of all the fucked up madness that has happened, you’re still the only thing that feels tangible.

the only thing lottie can swear she will always believe in.

lottie releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, a shudder leaving her mouth as she chokes out a sob.

“i do,” she nods. “i swear– i promise,” she chokes back a sob.

she lunges forward, hands immediately finding their place on your face as she presses against your lips. she tastes your tears, salty and warm. she doesn’t even try to wipe them away. instead, she drinks them up like they’re the only thing close to being ordained.

and in that, lottie promises to herself, reminds herself, that she’d choose better. because nothing good has ever lasted long in the wilderness. but maybe you can.

——

you made it to the spring, and for the first time in ages, you were no longer desperate or clinging to some hope that you’d live to see another day. you weren’t actively starving, and you’ve slowly found joy in the new way of things.

and, lottie, well, lottie was still lottie. even after surrendering the crown to natalie, after she survived the hunt, and after claiming the wilderness had chosen her. even after admitting she could no longer hear it. but even then, lottie still believed. she still believed there was a reason everyone was still here. and she still came back from her little solo walks with a fresh wound on her palm. an offering, she’d call it.

you’d just sigh and pull her down to the makeshift bed of your shared hut. you’d wash her palm with the lake water and wrap it in old scraps of cloth. muttering to her that if she was gonna offer something, she could at least try giving it something more convenient.

“could you try offering it a squirrel head or something next time?” you’d joke as you wrapped the fresh wound. lottie didn’t reply, not even a wince when you tightened the cloth around her hand.

“you should come with me,” she replied instead. you looked up at her expectantly. you hadn’t tried much to feel what lottie felt in the last months. but she still wanted you to believe, even if she couldn’t hear it as clearly as before. she tried with the others. she tried to keep them believing, and she tried with you. but people could only humor her for so long.

you hesitated for a moment. months ago, you would have followed her wordlessly. you would have reached for her. you would have let her pull you under until the cold didn’t bite at your skin anymore.

now, you still reached for her, but not for the same reasons. there was no hunger, no desperate need to cling to something that felt greater than you did. you changed; you had to. because you loved lottie, you loved her, and you knew that if you ended up like her, it’d end up destroying you both. you needed to be sane so that you could be there for when she needed to come back.

maybe you didn’t believe in the wilderness anymore. but you believed in her.

you smiled at lottie, holding her wounded hand in yours and bringing it to your lips. “yeah.” you nodded, agreeing with her. “i’ll go with you next time.” lottie smiled at that. you would go. even if you didn’t want to. even if it’s the last thing you’d want to do. you’d do it for her. you’d do it to keep her happy.

the days pass on as they always have. you have your weekly meetings with natalie as an advisor, along with taissa, gen, and van. you play ‘capture the bone’ along with the girls, and lottie always kisses you when you arrive back, whether in defeat or victory. and mari and shauna still bicker over their petty girl drama, and you always are thankful for having that entertainment around.

until mari goes missing.

it’s days of scavenging the surrounding woods. there isn’t any luck at all. even if you’ve tried every single trail you’ve covered in your months here. and just as you’re discussing with taissa and natalie what the next step should be. just as you’re about to decide that pronouncing mari dead as a possibility, she comes stumbling into the village, knee wrapped in a cloth as she limps across the yard.

the girls all rush towards her. helping her settle down, checking her for any injury besides her knee. you feel yourself let out the biggest sigh of relief that you didn’t have to lose someone else. at least not today.

but it all feels full circle once mari mentions being held captive by coach ben. a name you didn’t think you’d ever hear again. a man natalie had tried to convince everyone was dead. he should’ve been dead. but he isn’t. he’s holed up in some cave drinking hot chocolate.

everyone jumps at the idea of going off to find him once shauna mentions it.

“he tried to burn us alive.” you watch in shock as she spits the words out. natalie is the only one who protests against it before shauna storms off, inviting anyone to go with her in capturing him.

lottie doesn’t seem to be ecstatic about the whole ordeal. violence is usually the last thing she wants to partake in. she just nods encouragingly, understanding if it’s something that needs to be done.

you silently pack for the trip that evening before going off with the group to find him. a small part of you is hoping you won't have to bring ben back and make him face the wrath of a bunch of angry teenage girls.

“you’re scared,” lottie says from the entrance of the hut. you look up at her towering figure and huff out a laugh before turning back to what you were doing. “i’m not scared.” you don't know why you lie.

“don't lie,” she says softly, as she kneels beside you. “you don’t have to be scared,” she says it like it’s the simplest thing ever. like, this isn't ben you’re talking about. a man who you once trusted, a man you looked to for guidance. this was coach ben. coach ben, who let you sit out on practices when he saw you were too lost in your own head. he was the last piece of humanity left. the only reminder of wiskayok that wasn’t so fractured by what has become of all of you.

and you’re not sure what scares you more. the fact that he was still alive or that his capture may inevitably lead to his death.

“i just…i don’t think we should do this,” you confess. lottie all but stares at you. patient, waiting, listening, inviting you to say what you need to. like she always has.

“i mean he– he didn’t kill mari,” you start. “he let her go. he let her come back.” there’s more conviction to your words as you regain your confidence. “if he was so dangerous, wouldn’t he have left her to die?” you finish.

lottie hums, not in agreement or dismissal. she grabs your hand in hers and runs her fingers over the insides of your wrist. in some way grounding you. “he still left us.” she replies.

and that’s what it takes for you to understand fully. maybe it didn’t matter that he might’ve started the fire at the cabin, that he let mari go. maybe this was about the fact that he chose to abandon you all in search of his solitude. that he would have rather suffered alone than with all of you.

he could have chosen to stay. he could've chosen to believe. he could have survived with all of you. but he didn’t. maybe that’s why everyone was so angry. because he gave up on them.

lottie watches as the realization settles on your face. the way your mouth parts, the way you feel your throat tighten.

“don't be scared.” she says again, pulling your hand in to kiss your wrist. “we’re here. we’re here together.” you close your eyes as her words settle within you. when you open them again moments later, all you feel is that pull towards her. the one that’s always been there. only this time, it doesn’t feel like you need it to survive. you feel her. and you love her.

you love her more than the fear of what comes next.

she holds your hand in yours for a moment longer. then, with a final squeeze of her hand, you rise to your feet and sling your pack over your shoulder, ready to head off.

“i’ll be back,” you murmur, brushing a kiss against the arch of her brow before finding her lips.

"i know," she whispers, smiling.

you're gone until morning light. walking behind ben and natalie, you catch her gaze just before entering camp, a silent plea, a reminder to have her back for what comes next.

it all happens fast. shauna storms toward natalie the moment they set foot in camp, eyes blazing with the need for justice now that coach ben is in their grasp. but natalie is ready for her. she won’t let this end in blind violence.

“there has to be a trial,” she says, voice steady.

the anger in shauna’s face all but rises. her fists clenched at her sides. “after everything he’s done, you want this to be about fairness?” her voice accusatory, annoyed. melissa, from behind her speaks up in her defense, “he literally tried to burn our fucking home down!”

but you know what you’ve all become out here just as much as natalie does. what you’re trying your best not to continue to be. everything can’t be done in rage.

you step closer behind natalie, you let her feel you there. present. solid. understanding that you know she’s trying her best to do the right thing. even though she’s terrified. even if she doesn’t know what to name it.

a line has to be drawn, right? something no one should dare cross. this is that. like the thing lottie has always explained to you. some things are left out of your hands. some things happen because we aren’t meant to decide them.

and then, like you summoned her with a thought, lottie steps forward. “natalie is right. life and death has always been for it to decide.”

you see how her eyes find you as she says it, not seeking agreement but offering a reminder. of what you’ve once believed. of what she still believes.

you don’t always know what lottie hears anymore. she’s quieter than she used to be, her certainty less loud, but it’s still there, alive in the way she looks at the world and at you.

there’s a long silence. coach ben shifts between his feet.

“okay,” mari speaks up, warily. “how does a trial even look like out here?”

you glance back at lottie. she doesn’t say anything. she doesn't need to. this part is yours. this is up to the rest of you.

natalie shares a look between you and lottie before she steps forward. “we gather everyone. lay out what we know, and take a vote. it isn’t perfect…but it’s something.”

you hear shauna’s huff at her words. her nose flares in frustration, and you know she has something to say but decides against it. instead, she storms off into her hut, melissa trailing behind her.

natalie glances to you at her side, another silent plead. an agreement. you give her a nod. you have her back, no matter what. people disperse into their groups, you hear the mutterings, the doubts. some already taking sides. you don’t care.

you’re just glad there’s still some order to things around here.

you close your eyes for a moment and inhale. you don’t have to open your eyes to know that lottie has appeared next to you. her hand brushes yours, and it feels like coming down to earth. you exhale. when you open them again, you find her looking right at you. it’s there. a knowing. a stillness. how she knows exactly when you need her. you cling to that.

everyone gathers in the center of the village not long after. you sit quietly beside misty and ben, your knee bouncing, heart lodged somewhere between your chest and throat. you scan the faces around the table, searching for something. certainty, doubt, anything human.

your eyes catch on lottie when you glance behind you.

she’s across from you, expression unreadable as she shuffles the deck of cards with steady hands. when your eyes meet, she doesn’t say a word. but she doesn’t have to. you know her. and you know what silence like that means.

when van steps forward and announces natalie as the judge, your stomach twists. the weight of it hits you all at once. how real this is. how far you've come. how far you've fallen.

you turn to misty, voice low but certain. “misty.” she looks at you, wide-eyed.

“give it everything you’ve got.”

the whole trial is anything but easy. it’s stressful, terrifying, and relentless. mari shares her side. then shauna. you're almost ready to object when lottie steps up, until you realize where misty is steering the narrative. then natalie takes the stand, and it’s brutal watching her get shut down again and again once everyone learns she knew ben was alive. you want to speak up, to defend her, but she shoots you a look that says, not now. don’t risk it.

so you bite your tongue, even though it burns.

when ben takes the stand, you can barely look at him. he’s a shadow of the man you remember, broken and hollowed out by everything he’s endured.

he doesn’t even try to defend himself anymore, not really, but there’s still this heartbreaking honesty in the way he answers. like he knows it won’t save him, but he has to speak anyway. and then he starts talking about his life. all the things he hated, all the ways he felt stuck, but says it was all bearable because he got to coach you. the team. because he saw something in everyone that no one else ever bothered to look for.

you feel your throat close up, eyes burning. there’s no way, there’s just no way everyone in this room still wants to kill him. how can they? how can you? how can you all be about to vote him guilty? he’s not a monster. he’s not the villain of this story. he’s just a man who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. and now he’s going to die for it.

when it comes to voting, you have hope. it’s all you have for this. the one thing you’ve always held onto since being here. lottie looks teary-eyed, so does tai, and travis; they all do. but still, a part of you knows a few tears aren’t enough to save a man from death.

natalie glances at you as she approaches the table, jaw tight, like she doesn’t know whether to be hopeful or nervous.

“okay,” she looks around scanning everyone's faces. “we vote guilty or innocent with the raise of hands.” she gulps. “we vote until we get two-thirds.”

the first round. guilty, guilty, innocent, guilty, innocent, innocent, guilty, innocent, innocent, innocent. but it isn’t two-thirds.

“that’s not two-thirds,” natalie calls as she scans everyone's hands. “we have to vote again… until people change their vote.”

it’s silent. then again. people raise their hands. fall again. then raise. again. again. again.

it’s brutal, silent, and feels like crushing something soft. every. single. time. like you’re all operating some mechanical machine meant to press things closed until there’s no air left. you keep your hand steady. you never change your mind. but you feel it. you feel the pressure winning.

and then shauna disrupts. angry, upset, and nothing of what she says, nothing she does, is supposed to be allowed. natalie tries to disrupt her. to tell her this isn’t right. that she isn’t allowed to intercept the vote in any way. of course, shauna doesn't listen. all she has to do is give natalie some look before she cowers back.

and all shauna has to do to manipulate everyone is appeal to their emotions. to remind them that ben still left them, and so he must've burned the cabin down. in that, she also manages to make everyone question natalie’s leadership.

this time, van, shauna, melissa, gen, travis, akilah, and lottie all vote guilty.

when it’s over, the two-thirds is met. ben is found guilty. the sentence comes next.

you block the rest out. numbing all of it, as if ignoring it might make it less real. but it’s real. it’s all very real. and someone is going to die because of it.

you don’t even look at lottie. not right away, at least. too upset to even look her in the eyes. but you do glance up eventually, and you see the look in her eyes. like she knows what she’s just done, like maybe she’s hopeful you’ll understand. like she didn’t just let the fucking trees decide for her.

and the worst part is she thinks she did the right thing.

even if it hurt you in the end.

you huffed, walking off before you could say something cruel. lottie doesn’t try to follow you.

you tried to cool off. you walked laps around the edge of camp, hands stuffed into your pockets. you try to make sense of everything that’s just happened, but it never becomes clearer to you. and you decided it isn’t something you wanted to try and understand, especially if it isn’t something that felt right.

when you return to camp, it’s already the evening. you miss dinner, but you don’t find yourself caring.

lottie is there when you enter your shared hut—quickly rising to her feet as soon as she sees you, like she’s ready for whatever you’re about to give her.

but you don’t. you don’t give her anything.

you clench your jaw and brush past her, ready to head off to bed in the cot you share with her. you go through your motions of getting ready for bed and when you’re done you lay facing the wall of the hut, avoiding looking at lottie at all. she decides she’d break the silence instead.

“i know you’re mad,” she starts, stepping closer to the cot's edge. “but, you have to understand that i chose what it made me feel.”

her words make something in you snap, like all the anger you’ve held onto all day has finally reached its limit. you turn to face her, she doesn’t cower back when she notices the obvious anger on your face.

“well, i am mad,” you say with a silent venom. “i’m fucking upset, lot.”

“i just wanted to–”

“no!” you hiss, rising from the cot to look her eye to eye. “i told you how i felt, and you took that and didn’t think about what it would feel like for me when you chose something i was obviously against.”

lottie blinks slowly at you. she gives you that small, unadulterated smile as if she understands that you may not see it her way. and if she’s offended by your words, she doesn’t show it.

“i know it may seem unfair, but sometimes it knows more than we do. sometimes, it’ll show us things to push us towards a certain direction–”

“weren’t you the one who said some things aren’t for us to decide?” you counter.

“they aren’t.” she says, steadily.

“then why?” you demand. “you saw how broken he was! he’s innocent. hell, you even cried during his testimony, lottie.”

“we all voted,” she steps closer, trying to reach for your hand. “we all felt something and chose.”

“no,” you shake your head, stepping back. you feel the lump in your throat tighten. “don’t do that. don’t hide behind it.”

she calls your name, as if hearing her say it may bring you back to her. as if maybe it’d get you to understand. “i didn’t want it to end this way.”

you try to swallow down the tears, try to force yourself not to just yell at her for what will happen. part of you understands this isn't her fault. that it isn’t anything she can help. still, you can’t help but want to blame someone for the way things are. if it’s even something that can be protected from the kind of thing that doesn’t bleed, but continues to demand sacrifice.

you whisper, broken but clear. “don’t you remember what you promised?”

you see the glass start to break. her mouth parts, eyes turn glassy. you hear her small exhale at your words.

“i don’t want to lose you.” she whispers.

��then don’t.”

[noorpersona]

could you do a suna nsfw enemies to lovers type thing or ANY suna nsfw😪🙏🙏 i love your work btw you’re sooo good <33

I was in a spicy mood heheheh

Enjoy <333

--

Suna takes his time.

It's almost infuriating, the way he draws everything out, turning pleasure into a sweet, torturous game. He settles between your legs with languid ease, dark eyes half-lidded and lazy, drinking in your flushed face and trembling thighs like he's memorizing every single detail. His breath ghosts warmly against your inner thigh, lips brushing lightly, teasingly, dragging gentle kisses along your skin until you're squirming beneath him, desperate for more.

"Look at you," he murmurs quietly, voice deep and velvet-smooth, vibrating softly against your thigh. His thumb strokes lightly along your hipbone, the caress gentle but electric enough to send sparks skittering across your skin. "All wound up, and I’ve barely even touched you."

You attempt a glare, but it melts instantly into a helpless sigh when his tongue finally—finally—traces a lazy, deliberate circle over your most sensitive spot. Your hips buck instinctively, chasing the maddeningly slow pressure. Suna chuckles softly, the sound vibrating deliciously through you, making you bite your lip hard enough to taste copper.

"So impatient," he murmurs, his eyes sparkling with sly amusement, holding your gaze as he dips his head again, pressing his mouth fully against you. The slick heat of his tongue sliding through your folds draws a sharp gasp from your throat, your fingers tangling urgently into his tousled hair. His lips, plush and devastatingly skilled, envelop you, and he hums appreciatively at your taste, the sound resonating deep within your core.

Suna pays attention—too much attention. Every flick of his tongue is calculated, careful, maddeningly precise. He circles, gently presses, then withdraws just as your breath catches, pulling away just enough to make you nearly sob with frustration. He knows exactly what he's doing, teasing you to the brink and then leaving you aching, trembling, dizzy with anticipation.

Suddenly, his tongue pushes deeper, slipping smoothly inside you, and your mind melts instantly. You gasp sharply, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure floods every inch of your body. Suna moves his tongue expertly, curling it gently, stroking inside you with an intensity that steals your breath. Your hips jerk involuntarily, grinding helplessly against his mouth as heat spirals wildly in your stomach.

"Rin," you whimper softly, half-pleading, half-warning, thighs trembling around his head.

He smirks, slow and wicked, lifting his eyes lazily to meet yours. "Hmm? Something you want?"

Before you can respond, he's back, diving in deeper, more aggressively, his tongue moving expertly, firmly. Heat coils tightly in your stomach, your body arching off the bed, hips chasing his mouth desperately. He pins you down firmly, one strong hand splayed possessively over your hip, holding you exactly where he wants you.

And he knows exactly what you want.

His tongue flicks expertly, drawing precise patterns over your swollen, sensitive flesh, alternating pressure until your breathing stutters erratically. He reads your body perfectly, every subtle twitch, every soft moan guiding his movements, bringing you closer and closer to the brink, only to slow again, holding you suspended in dizzying pleasure.

He loves watching you unravel. The sight of you flushed, needy, trembling beneath him clearly ignites something fierce in him, his grip tightening slightly, lips suctioning gently at your most sensitive spot until stars explode across your vision. Your body jolts sharply beneath him, legs shaking uncontrollably.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs smugly, teasingly nipping at your thigh, eyes glittering darkly. “Don’t come undone just yet.”

Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging insistently, and he growls lowly, amused but unmistakably turned on by your desperation. Finally deciding mercy is overrated, he returns his mouth fully, tongue stroking and circling relentlessly. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter, unbearably intense, your entire body straining beneath him.

"Come for me," he commands softly, voice roughened with arousal, mouth sealed intimately against you. The vibration of his voice combined with the slick, insistent pressure of his tongue pushes you violently over the edge. Your climax hits hard and sharp, your back arching off the bed as a broken cry rips through your chest.

Suna holds you there, merciless and thorough, guiding you through wave after wave of pleasure, refusing to stop until you collapse back onto the sheets, boneless and breathless. He places gentle, self-satisfied kisses along your thighs, slowly lifting his head, lips glistening as his eyes gleam with lazy triumph.

"I told you," he murmurs smugly, thumb brushing gently over your oversensitive skin, making you shudder softly beneath him once more, "nobody does it better."

You don't even have the energy to argue, and truthfully, you wouldn't want to.

[pittsick]

FTM!art squirting on your strap pathetically!!!!! maybe multiple orgasms

summary: taking care of your boyfriend isn’t that hard, especially when he’s so good at begging and squirting on your strap.

pairing: ftm!art donaldson x afab!girlfriend.

cw: +18. mdni. 1.5k words. submissive art. soft dom reader. praising. disgusting dirty-talking. strap-on. oral sex. multiple orgasms. squirting. overstimulation. drooling. dacryphilia.

taglist .ᐟ @blastzachilles, @lvve-talks, @jordiemeow, @strfallz, @222col, @soulxinxthexsky, @diyasgarden, @jinxedbambi, @lexiiscorect, @religionlost, @bluestrd, @jclolz22, @magicalmiserybore, @destinedtobegigi, @fwaist, @idyllicdaydreams, @sohighitscool, @shahabaqsa0310

The lights in your bedroom were dim—barely a flicker of soft amber from the corner lamp, shadows hugging the walls. Art lay on your bed like something delicate and breakable, even though his thighs were shaking, his face already flushed. His shirt was somewhere on the floor. You'd taken your time getting it off him, kissing your way up his ribs and scars, letting your fingers trace the gentle curve of his hips, soft skin flushed and twitching under your attention.

Now he was in just his boxers, breathing ragged, his hands gripping the sheets like he didn’t trust himself to move.

"You okay, baby?" you asked quietly, straddling his thigh as you leaned over him, brushing a damp curl from his forehead. Art’s throat bobbed. His voice came out barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I’m good. Just—fuck.”

You smiled, leaned down, and kissed him. Soft, slow, tongue sliding between his lips just to taste the way he gasped. He melted into it, always so pliant under your touch. Always so sweet.

“You look so pretty like this,” you murmured, pressing your lips just below his jaw. He whimpered when your hand skimmed under the waistband of his boxers. “All soft and wet for me already, huh?”

His legs shifted instinctively, thighs tensing under your body. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, voice already cracking. “You—fuck, you talk and I just…” You eased his boxers down and off, slow, careful. His breath hitched the second the cool air hit his slick folds.

"Aw, baby," you murmured, settling between his legs. You kissed his inner thigh and watched him squirm. “Already messy for me. You’re dripping.” Art covered his face with the back of his hand, biting down on a whimper.

You pulled his hand gently away. “No hiding,” you whispered. “I wanna see everything. Wanna see your pretty face when I ruin you.”

His eyes fluttered open—wet, wide, glassy. “Please.”

Your heart clenched in your chest. God, he was beautiful when he begged. Hair messy across the pillow, cheeks blotchy, lips pink and parted. You kissed his mouth again just to ground him, to let him feel how much you adored him, how much you wanted this—wanted him.

"You ready for my mouth, sweetheart?" you whispered against his lips.

He nodded frantically.

“Words.”

“Yes, yes, please—please, I want it—need it.”

You kissed your way down his stomach until your mouth was on him, licking slowly up his folds, savoring every shaky breath, every twitch of his hips. You held him open gently, reverent. He was soaked, practically dripping against your tongue, whimpering into the back of his hand as you sucked on his clit—soft, then harder when he bucked against your face.

You didn’t stop when he started squirming, didn’t stop when he moaned too loud, didn’t stop when his thighs clamped around your head and he started sobbing through it.

His first orgasm was fast, sudden, wracking through him in a tight wave that left him gasping, hips stuttering. He sobbed into the pillow, overwhelmed already, and you just murmured praise against his skin.

"Good boy… you’re so good for me, Art. Came so fast. God, look at you."

He was drooling. Actually drooling a little from the corner of his mouth, and when you sat up to look at him, there were tears tracking down his cheeks.

“You okay, sweetheart?” you whispered, brushing them away with your thumb.

He blinked up at you, already fucked-out and wrecked. “Didn’t mean to cry,” he said shakily. “Just—felt s’good, couldn’t stop it—”

“Oh, baby.” You leaned down and kissed his wet cheeks, his temples. “I want you to cry for me. You’re so good and pretty when you cry. You know that?”

He let out a shaky, broken moan. “Please… more…”

You stroked between his legs again, just to tease. He was still twitching, slick gushing against your fingers. “I think you can take it,” you whispered. “You want the strap now, huh? Want me to fuck you dumb?” He nodded desperately, hips chasing your hand. “Y-Yes. Yes—want it so bad—”

You slipped away only long enough to grab your harness and strap it on, watching him squirm on the bed, legs splayed, hand already between his thighs again to try to rub some of the ache out.

"Needy little thing," you said, settling between his legs again. You grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the mattress gently. “No touching. That’s my job.”

He gasped as you lined up your strap with his entrance, the toy slick from his own wetness. You rubbed the head through his folds, teasing, just enough pressure to make him sob.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, I want it, I can take it—”

You pushed in slowly, watching his mouth fall open, watching the tension melt from his thighs as you filled him up. He was soaked, the toy sliding in with ease, and yet his legs trembled the deeper you went.

"That’s it," you whispered. "You’re taking me so well, baby. Look at you. So full already, and I’m not even all the way in yet."

He was moaning nonstop now, fingers digging into the sheets. His thighs shook violently as you bottomed out, hips flush with his.

"Fuck," he gasped. "Oh my god—fuck—"

You held still inside him for a moment, letting him adjust, letting him feel every inch of stretch and fullness. “Feel good?”

He nodded wildly. “Yeah—feels so fucking good, don’t stop—”

You started to move, hips rolling slow and deep, grinding the toy against that spot inside him that made his back arch immediately. He keened. You grabbed his thighs and pressed them up, folding him in a bit so you could hit even deeper. “That’s it,” you groaned. “Let me fuck you open, baby. Let me make you cum.”

He sobbed as you found your rhythm—slow, grinding thrusts that made slick gush around the toy with every movement. You could hear it, hear how wet and desperate he was.

And then it happened—his body tensed, bucked, and—

"Fuck— I’m gonna—"

He squirted, sudden and messy, soaking the toy and your thighs and the sheets underneath him. His whole body jolted, his mouth open in a silent cry before the sound caught up—broken, animal.

“That’s it, baby,” you whispered, voice tight with arousal. “So fucking messy for me. Look at you. You came so hard. You squirted all over my cock like a good boy.” He was trembling, tears pouring freely down his cheeks now. His face was flushed, his body warm while his clit was swollen and twitchy with overstimulation.

And yet—

"Please," he choked out. "More. I need more."

You kissed him, moaning into his mouth. “You want me to keep going, baby? Wanna squirt on me again? Wanna cum until you can't think?”

He nodded frantically. “Use me—please, please, fuck me, I can take it, I want to take it—” You pulled out just to slam back in, this time harder. His mouth dropped open in a strangled cry, legs jerking with every thrust.

You fucked him harder now—his hips jerking, his thighs twitching, his hands flailing until you grabbed them and pinned them above his head. His eyes rolled back when you did it. Just the right amount of restraint.

He came again fast, loud and sobbing, voice cracking as you pushed him over that edge again. He gushed around the strap, soaking it, drool slick on his chin now, and tears spilling from the corners of his eyes.

“So good, baby,” you groaned, panting above him. “You’re perfect. My perfect little boy. Taking everything I give you like you were made for it.” He was babbling nonsense—your name, pleads for more, cries that he was gonna cum again, even when he already was.

You fucked him through another orgasm—his third—watching him break apart under you, twitching, clenching, soaking the strap over and over until it was slippery and hot with his release. You leaned down and kissed him through it, swallowed his sobs and his moans, held his shaking body tight against yours.

By the time you slowed, he was gasping, face flushed bright red, a mess of tears, spit, and slick all over the both of you. You pulled out gently, cradling his thighs as they trembled in your hands.

He let out a whimper at the loss but didn’t protest—just clung to you when you gathered him up in your arms, held him close against your chest. “You did so good, baby,” you whispered against his forehead. “You came so much for me. I’m so proud of you.”

He was still crying—soft, happy tears now, his hands buried in your shirt, trembling like he’d just run a marathon. “Love you,” he mumbled into your skin. “So much—fuck—”

You stroked his hair, kissed the top of his head. “I love you too. You’re perfect. My perfect little boy.” He hiccupped a laugh, nuzzled closer.

You stayed like that a long time, wrapped in sweat and tears and the warm ache of afterglow, your hand stroking slow over his back while he came down, slowly, gently, safely, right where he belonged.

[aespabangedbang]

SULLyOON NANNyOON HONEyOON

Writer's Note : Wanted to write about Sullyoon for a long time, here it is.

Tags : DUB CON, I wrote it a while ago so forgot the tags.

Warning : Anyone who have an issue should see a doctor about their inability to fuck.

Word Count : 2125 words of submission and happily ever after!

I am a 23 year old successful manhwaga, divorced and now a single father of a daughter named Sera. Yeah, I had a wild teenage life. But that immaturity costing me now. My wife and first love left me for wealth 2 years ago after Sera's birth, I was poor back then. Devasted, heartbroken and helpless those day's memory brings the better taste back as I wake me, really distasteful.

Sullyoon, the 21 years old nanny of my daughter and household helper came even before I woke up, now taking care of my Sera. She is from a poor family otherwise surely she could become a Kpop idol with her tall, toned and curvy figure with a doll-like face that turns all heads.

Some even mistake her for Sera’s mother, she is that close to her. She has a caring, sweet, shy and kind soul. I am grateful to her for taking care of Sera and keeping my life hassle free. A part of my success is thanks to her dedication to my little family.

But my peaceful life is threatened by her family's arranged marriage for her. My life got messed once, I am not letting that happen twice. “I want you, beside me, as my daughter's mom, forever.” I mutter as I am devouring her sexy body in tights and cropped hoodie from behind, her toned abs are looking appetizing. She is busy playing with my daughter.

The lingering need for her and my years depraved hunger for sex is increasing my lust every sec. Today I will make her mine, by hook or by crook. I also write erotic pornhwa in a different pen name, I am going to use that shady side and expertise of mine today.

I wait till Sully makes Sera asleep and goes to do houseworks. I creep behind her, Sully almost screams suddenly seeing me behind. I calmly thank her for her service for the last 2 years. She politely says it's just her job. I don't beat around the bush and directly say that I want her beside me, as Sera’s mom for the rest of our life.

Sullyoon’s eyes palpate hearing me as if she really wants it deep inside, but she declines politely saying she is now engaged. I grab her face hard and look eye to eye, I say it's not a request. She has to be Sera’s mom, or my life will get ruined again. She just have to say yes, I will manage her family!

She shakes her head sideways to say no, it's time for the crooked approch. I lock my lips with her in a sudden forced kiss. My tongue going inside her mouth, my teeth biting her lips drawing blood. She tries to break free, but my grip behind her head is strong. My other hand is exploring her butt creek with my finger, her soft boobs squished against my chest.

I only let her go once she started whimpering and sobbing. She tries to run away with her shaking body but I hug her tightly from behind and drag her back to the living room and press her on the sofa. My lips lock her again, my hands under her crop hoodie squeezing her perky firm boobs.

She tries to stop me but I easily overpower her both hand with my one hand, the other one busy trying to undress her. She starts begging to stop me, says that she is still a virgin, she can't disappoint her family. She tries to fight back kicking, but I got between her legs. My bulged cock pressing against her wet crotch.

She bites on my hand, but my rude hard slap with other hand on her blushed face makes it redder. I hiss at her pulling her hair and tell that I will make sure her family have no other options but to give her to me. Sully’s teary eyes gets stunned, she understand my plan immediately. There are many cameras around my house.

Specially the living room is packed with 5 camera to keep an eye on Sera. Having sex here with me mean I can use that footage to break her marriage. Her family is poor, they can't fight aginst me in the court and marry her to someone else after that will be impossible. So giving her to me is the only option that will be left for them.

I don't have consent for this oppa, it's rape! Please stop! We can think something… She tries to convince me while sobbing but I don't let her finish. I kiss her again, sucking the tangy taste of her bloody lips. Like a blood sucking demon I look at her and say, it's ok Sully. I will give you a life full of happiness and abundance, just endure today’s discomfort.

Ignoring her gradually weakening protest, I keep undressing her like a Christmas gift on the mat where she was playing with Sera even a moment ago. She is even more beautiful up close and naked. Her body is a piece of art, those supple boobs and ass, thick thighs, hourglass thin waist and her shaved wet juicy pussy that's really like a plump ripe peach! Her face is dripping with uncharted beauty. Sullyoon is mine, this virgin beauty is only for me to take and devour.

I lower my face on her pussy, I can't wait to eat her big muffin anymore. I make a big bite, taking as much as I can of her finely shaped pussy. She tries to stifle her moan, but can't as my tongue darting inside and slurping her virgin juice. The musky scent of her pheromones, sweet pre cum and salty tasted sweat soaked crotch is already making me drunk!

I throw my shirt and pull my boxer down in a frenzy, virgin Sully looking at my 5 inch long but thick manhood with fear. I set my cock at her entrance in classic missionary position and just shove. Even with full wet arousal, she is so tight I can only go an inch or so. She screams in pain but I muffle her with both hand, don't wake up Sera Sully, I will fuck you anyway so it's no use.

After 4 hammering and agonizing inch by inch thrust I completely impale her with my cock, soon red blood starts leaking around her pussy and coating my cock. I tune down my pace and keep fucking her virgin pussy slowly. Her moaning mixed with pain and pleasure is like melody in my ears. Now that I am in and she is not fighting back I am trying not to put her in any more distress.

I lean on her, elbow on the ground as I am caressing her head while wiping her tears and snot. I say to her that it's ok Sullyoon, oppa have fallen in love with you, I will keep you safe and sound for the rest of our life. Please, just please don't leave us Ill fated father and daughter alone. You are the mom Sera needs, you are the wife I wish I had!

Sullyoon is barely moaning now as her pussy got stretched wide for my thick cock, the pain getting overwhelmed by carnal pleasure. She lock her beady big eyes with mine, lips pouty and shaking in a mix of polarizing emotions. Her sweaty face is looking so surreal like I can’t even believe such a beauty is in front of me!

Suddenly she grabs my hair and pull my head in for a kiss, that's the first time she reciprocated my so far questionable actions. My heart jump, is that a yes? She agrees to be a part of our family? Yes? The answer is obvious as she is now exploring my mouth, her lips still leaking some blood.

I didn't touch any girl for more than 2 years since my divorce. Now that she is willingly having sex with me, it makes me way too horny. I sped up, each of my thrust sending shivers down her body. I rise and put a cushion under her waist, then start jack hammering deep in her rapidly. My fingers rubbing her clit, I am hellbent to make her orgasm before I do.

She starts screaming out loud and her loud moaning is echoing through the room. Soon Sera’s cry come into our ears as she woke up from her soon to be mother's lovemaking. Maybe the shame send her over edge as Sullyoon come undone, her back arches, pussy spasming around my cock as her body quivering from her first ever orgasm. Her squirt drench her thighs, my cock, balls and stomach. I slow down, giving powerful thrusts that's drumming her ass with meat slapping sound.

In or out Sully? I ask her gently, she says it's not her safe time. Sigh, after few more thrusts I pull out and put my wet and bloody cock in front of her face. She doesn't want to suck but like hell I am gonna listen. I shove my cock in her mouth and start face fucking her like mad, using her pretty face like a cheap fleshlight. I masterbated months ago, so very thick and huge load of cum fill her innocent mouth, she starts coughing as cum spruts out her mouth and nose.

I order her to drink my sticky milk, she obediently gulp down all of it. I kiss her forehead lovingly as I help her sit up. Her flushed hot body melting in my embrace. But she rushes me saying Sera is crying. I help her quickly wiping her pussy, lips and face. She doesn't waste any time and run to Sera’s crib, though limping from a deflowered wounded pussy. Her delicious looking big ass suspending form her thin waist swaying around like pendulum. What a fine bitch she is!

I follow behind, of course I need a taste of that ass. She is busy changing Sera’s diaper while I bury my face in her ass, my tongue immediately started to rim her puckered hole while both hand spreading her butt cheeks apart. She is whining as it's hard for her to change Sera’s diaper while getting leaked in her ass. I say it's only natural that papa clean mama the same way mama clean Sera, right?

Sullyoon really tried to find a corner where she could run and hide from this shameless man but having no such option she only digest the erotic absurdity of mine, with a pouty face getting loved by a mad manhwaga. Do I need to keep explaining what other shameless act we did for the rest of the day after periodically taking care of Sera now and then?

No, she didn't go back home that day. We were fucking a pair of rabbits whole time. Sleeping the night snuggling Sully as Sera was beside us was the most fulfilling night I had in years…

It's been 3 years we got married. It was very smooth sailing as Sullyoon agreed to marry me. Her parents were reluctant, kept saying about the engagement, keeping their words and what not nonsense but a few sec of sneak peek of what Sullyoon and I did made them go silent once and for all. With both family’s blessing we walk the isle and here we are.

Where? At Sera’s kindhearten because through spoiling from her momma Sully has turned her into quite a bully. Sully and Bully? See, it's you who is in the fault here. This remark only makes her furious as she says she will see who is the problem once we return home. Sigh! I am completely against my gal becoming a macho but Sullyoon is ready to fight me to defend her daughter.

She loves Sera more than me I guess. Sigh, I face other way, what a devilish woman! She pinches me painfully as Sera is running toward us, a silent warning to not say anything to Sera. Every woman is a trouble once they get married and a ticking time bomb when they become a mother. Sullyoon being a mother since day zero makes it even worse. Sigh, just sigh!

Though I listen to everything she says the whole day, the bedtime is all but mine. That's the house rule. I am particularly going rough with the deepthroat today, it's her punishment for being such a pain in the ass this morning. She is thrashing her legs to pull me out, but I am not making it easy. I am gonna make her throat raw so her yapping is going to be less at least for tomorrow. Keep choking on the daddy meat you freaking mommy!

The End up Sullyoon's mommy asshole 🖕

[purinbunnii]

“You Forgive Me Like This?”

You’re pinned beneath him, breathless.

Gojo’s body is hot—fever-hot. All tension and tremble. His forehead rests against yours, damp hair falling over the band of his blindfold, lips brushing your cheek like he doesn’t deserve to kiss you yet.

“You hate me right now, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice low and hoarse. “But you’re still shaking for me.”

You are. Every inch of you burns—anger, want, regret, need—it’s all tangled up in the way his fingers grip your thighs, spreading you open like he’s begging you to let him back in. Not just into your body, but into your trust.

Your voice breaks on a moan as his hips press against yours, slow, deliberate.

“Satoru—”

“I know, baby. I know.”

He mouths along your collarbone, open-mouthed and messy. Licks. Kisses. Sucks. The sounds wet and obscene, echoing in the quiet apartment like confession.

“I shouldn’t have said any of that shit earlier,” he groans, grinding into you with a sharp snap of his hips that makes your back arch. “But fuck—don’t tell me I lost this. You.”

You gasp—sharp, high—when he presses his fingers inside you without warning, curling slow, deep, just to feel you clench around him. The squelch of it makes his breath hitch.

“You’re soaked. Dripping.” He pants into your neck, voice wrecked. “You gonna tell me you don’t want this?”

Your nails scrape down his back. Your hips roll. You can’t help it.

“Satoru—please,” you whimper, voice trembling.

He groans like he’s unraveling, dragging his fingers out just to push back in—sloppier, wetter—fucking you open with nothing but his hand and his pride on the line.

“I’ll make it right,” he swears, tongue flicking against your nipple as he takes it into his mouth with a groan. “Let me make it right. Let me make you come until you forget everything but me.”

The rhythm gets faster. Slicker. His fingers curl just right and you sob his name, thighs trembling around his shoulders now, legs thrown over his back like you can’t bear a single inch of distance.

And when you finally fall apart under him—moaning, crying out, so messy and soaked you’re sure he’s ruined the couch—he doesn’t stop. Just presses his forehead to yours again, breath stuttering, hard cock pressed against your thigh, his voice a broken whisper:

“You still hate me, baby?”

You smile weakly, dragging him down into another kiss.

“Only a little.”

His mouth finds yours again—wet, possessive, starved. He kisses you like he’s still apologizing, like he needs to feel every inch of your forgiveness poured into his mouth.

Then—

He pushes in.

Not slow. Not patient. Just one long, deep thrust that fills you so suddenly your whole body jerks beneath him.

You cry out—loud, choked, back arching as your walls clench around him.

“Shit—fuck, baby…” he gasps against your lips, voice wrecked. “You’re so damn tight. Still mad at me?”

You can’t answer—not with the way he’s moving. Not with the way his hips are already snapping into you like he’s been dying for it.

He slams into you again—wet, deep, hard—and your moan comes out strangled, your hands clutching at his back like you’re drowning.

Every thrust is a punishment and a plea. Loud, slick, and brutal. The slap of skin fills the room, tangled with his grunts, your breathless cries, the soft creak of the couch beneath your bodies.

“Say it,” he pants, biting at your shoulder. “Tell me you’re mine. Say it while I’m this deep inside you.”

You sob his name. Again. Again. Your voice breaks on every syllable.

His pace falters for a split second—he buries his face in your neck, groaning like he’s unraveling.

Then he flips you.

You yelp as he manhandles you onto your hands and knees, ass in the air, your cheek pressed against the cushion before you can blink.

“Satoru—!”

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he growls behind you, voice low and dripping with lust. “Nah, baby. Not until I’m so deep you can’t think straight.”

He slaps your ass—hard. The sound echoes. The sting blooms. You whimper as he grabs your hips, pulls you back onto him, and thrusts so deep your toes curl.

He’s grunting now—low, raw, filthy.

“Listen to how wet you are,” he hisses, snapping his hips against yours. “You’re making a fucking mess, baby. Ruined my pants, ruined this couch—gonna ruin me next?”

You’re so far gone, all you can do is whimper, eyes rolling back.

He leans over your back, lips brushing your ear as he growls:

“I’m gonna come so deep you’ll still be leaking in the morning.”

And with one last hard thrust, he buries himself to the hilt—grinding, groaning, hand clamped over your mouth as you both come together, soaking, shaking, breathless and ruined.

You’re still twitching when he pulls out.

His cock slips free with a wet, filthy sound—one that makes both of you groan. You’re dripping down your thighs, warm and sticky, and his hand is already back between your legs, spreading your folds to watch it leak out of you.

“God, look at that,” he groans, voice half-lost in his throat. “All of it. Mine.”

You whimper as his fingers smear the mess back up, rubbing it into your folds, circling your clit just to make you jolt. Your thighs are weak. Your cheek’s still pressed into the cushion. But he doesn’t give you time to recover.

He fists his cock, still hard, flushed and throbbing with need.

“You think we’re done?” he rasps. “I barely even started.”

He presses the tip back in—slow, this time. Cruel. You feel it inching in, stretching you out all over again. The squelch is obscene, your own slick coating him too perfectly. He hisses through his teeth, eyes glued to where you take him.

“You’re fucking soaked, baby. It’s like you want me to drown in you.”

He bottoms out and stays there—deep, unmoving.

You moan, voice cracking.

“Satoru…”

“Yeah?” He leans over, biting your shoulder gently. “Tell me what you need. Tell me how bad you want me to break you.”

Then he moves.

Hard.

Not rhythmic—just raw, erratic slamming, his hips snapping against your ass, your name pouring out of his mouth like a prayer and a curse all at once.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

The sound is brutal—wet skin, breathless cries, the couch squeaking beneath you like it can’t take the pressure.

Your moans are wrecked. Desperate. You feel every ridge of him, every vein, as he pistons in and out, ruining you from the inside.

“Shh,” he pants, pushing your head down with one hand, fingers knotted in your hair. “Just take it. Be good and take it. That’s my girl…”

You sob as another orgasm tears through you without warning, your body locking up around him—milking him—and his groan breaks into something near feral.

“Shit—fuck, baby—I’m gonna come again—”

And he does, hard, buried deep, cock twitching as he fills you a second time, spilling everything inside with a ragged gasp of your name.

You collapse. He falls with you, both of you sticky and shaking and still somehow tangled together.

His hand comes up, brushing sweaty hair from your temple.

“Still mad?” he whispers.

You can’t even speak.

“Thought so,” he smirks, breathless. “Good. Maybe I’ll apologize again in the shower.”

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

HELLOOOOO, I love how u write bill dickley sm and was wondering if you could do a NSFW fic about reader being as toxic as bill dickley, but reader turns submissive when bill dickley calls them a poser during sex!!!

(HELLOOOOO and yes yes lol

Title:“You’re such a f**king casual.”

You’re straddling him, thighs tight around his hips, riding like it’s your goddamn job—and still you manage to glare down at him, sneering, tits bouncing while you talk s**t.

“Oh yeah?” you pant. “And you’re f**king pathetic. I saw your little Funko shrine. You think owning ten mint-condition Slave Leia variants makes you an intellectual?”

He thrusts up into you—hard—making you choke on your next insult.

“Says the bitch who called the Clone Wars mid on her Letterboxd. You don’t even deserve this dk.”

You bark a laugh. “This dick? You mean this whiny little man-baby cock? I’ve seen bigger on DeviantArt.”

“Oh, fuck you,” he spits, gripping your hips so tight you know there’ll be bruises. “You’re just a fangirl with tits. A poser. A desperate, faking-it, trend-hopping poser—”

Something snaps in you.

Poser?

You freeze for a beat. Thighs still. Hands trembling on his chest. Your smug grin falters.

Bill tilts his head, watching the shift. Watching you shrink.

“Ohhh…” he breathes, catching it. “That’s it. That’s what gets you, huh? Someone finally sees through your bullshit.”

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He grips your throat—not hard, just enough to pin the mood—and thrusts up again, slow and mean. You whimper, losing your rhythm.

“You don’t actually care about this fandom. You’re here for the clout. You’re here to get fucked by someone who knows what the hell he’s talking about.”

“I—shut—”

“You’re not even wet because of me. You’re wet because I called you fake. Because I called you out.” He’s growling now, pure venom, and you’re melting under it.

Your body betrays you. You're riding again, but the attitude’s gone. Your face is red, your breath coming in soft gasps, and Bill is loving it.

“Oh my god,” he laughs darkly, “you’re such a fucking loser. What happened to all that mouth, huh? Where’s your hot take now?”

You whimper, grinding down into him. You hate how much this works on you. The shame. The degradation. The fact that he’s right.

“You wanna prove you’re not a poser?” he spits, grabbing your ass, forcing your rhythm faster. “Take it. Take the whole dick. Show me you’re not just here for the aesthetic.”

You’re nodding now, pathetically, biting your lip. “I’m not—I’m not—”

“Bullshit.” He flips you over without warning, slamming back into you from behind as his tip hits that lovely spot. The sound is obscene—your moans, the slap of skin, the wet suction as he fucks you deep.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say what you are.”

You sob. “I’m a poser.”

“Louder.”

“I’m a fucking poser!”

“And?”

“And I want your dick!”

“Fucking right you do,” he snarls, hand tangling in your hair as he ruins you. “You’ll take every inch like a good little fan service slut. And you’ll say thank you.”

You’re cumming before you realize it. Legs shaking, face buried in his pillows, body twitching while he pumps into you like he’s winning a forum argument with his whole soul.

He finishes with a brutal grunt, holding himself deep inside you, twitching, panting.

You both lay there for a second. Sticky. Silent.

Then Bill whispers in your ear:

“…Still think Last Jedi had ‘interesting themes’?”

You whimper, “No.

---

[onlykiwi]

OK SERVEEEE???

[bbutterflies]

he’s just so PRETTY what did they PUT IN HIM