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choslut · 5 days ago

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# PUSSY TALK !! (vi x reader)

$YNOPSIS. you’ve been feelin’ a little insecure about yourself lately. good thing you have a girlfriend who’s head over heels for you, no matter what! // wc. 2.4k

warnings. insecure!reader, talk of body image + weight, face sitting, spanking (ass + clit), praise, dirty talk, stripping, oral sex, size kink (?), teasing, fingering, begging, squirting, overstimulation, mirrors, awkward aftercare, spooning, pet names

NSFW below the cut. minors, stay away. enjoy your read!

Dresses aren’t your favourite piece of clothing. They never have been and they never will be, and even as you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror of your bedroom, you absolutely hate how this dress looks on you.

When you asked for something flared that would hide your curves, you didn’t expect your tailor to make you look like an overstuffed cream puff. The flared sleeves hang off of your arms like misplaced scraps of fabric, and the material pools at your feet, surrounding you in an unceremonious circle. You look frumpy, you feel frumpy, and nothing in the world could have convinced you that this is the dress you were going to wear to the annual Councillor’s Gala.

“What the fuck…” You turn around to inspect the back, and it’s even worse than you thought. It seems as if the tailor has attempted a daring backless design, but to you, it just looks like a gaping hole, the fabric tight and loose in all the wrong places before messily accumulating just above the apple of your ass. It looks horrible, and if you weren’t insecure enough, this dress makes you feel like a laughing stock.

And that’s when the dreaded words come out of your mouth. “I seriously need to lose weight.”

Someone doesn’t like that, because out of nowhere, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and a sharp chin on your shoulder. “And why’s that? I think it looks perfect.”

Vi loves seeing you in dresses. She thinks they make you look so graceful, no matter what shape you choose. It solidifies the fact that you are her perfect princess, and she will never understand why you hate them when they make you look so pretty.

She also doesn’t understand this whole weight thing you have going on. If anything, one of the things that first had her on her knees for you was your body, and like now, she always feels a need to be touching it, whether it be stroking your thighs or kissing your collarbone or, like now, wrapping her arms around your perfect waist and pulling you into her chest.

“‘M not perfect though, Vi,” you grumble, hands running along the sides of your chest and resting over where her hands cradle your tummy. “I look like a creampuff.”

“Creampuffs are sweet. I like creampuffs,” she says, her eyes making contact with yours in the mirror as she noses your neck. “I like you.”

You roll your eyes and whine. “I know you like me, Vi. But that’s not gonna change the fact that I hate this dress.”

“Take it off then.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like you’re not going to be stuck in it for three whole hours, playing the part of a member of high society whilst trying your hardest to ignore the obvious stares at the atrocity which is your outfit. You want to tell Vi that it seriously isn’t as easy as that, but you’re distracted by her hands slipping into the open back of your dress.

“I can help you,” she whispers in your ear, and you can feel the cold metal of her nose piercing against your heated skin. “Take it off, I mean. Relax.”

“Vi…”

“Can we try something?” She begins to kiss your neck slowly, and you whimper when you feel the rough scar on her lip brush against your heated flesh. “I know you’ve been feeling some way about your body lately, and to be honest, I have no idea why because your body is already so fucking perfect…” Her hands slide up the insides of your dress, and you lift your shoulders automatically as she slips those god awful sleeves off of your shoulders. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”

After all this time, she hasn’t broken eye contact once, and you notice her eyes go dark when she shoves the front of your dress down, only to find your perky nipples staring right back at her. “What is it?”

“Sit on my face,” she states simply, hands coming round to rub at your tits. “I want all of it, baby. Your whole body. I want you to fuckin’ suffocate me.”

You probably will. You stare at your girlfriend in the mirror incredulously, because there’s no way in the universe that you’re going to sit on her face. Not in a million years, and certainly not today. “No.”

“Give me one good reason why not.” She has a point, because it’s getting increasingly hard to refute her when her hands are making their way underneath the front material of your dress, letting it drop to the floor and revealing your regulation panties. “Go on, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t sit on my face.” Before you can open your mouth to protest, Vi smiles and bites your shoulder. “And your weight is not a valid answer.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Violet.”

“Yes, baby?” She acts like nothing is wrong, like asking you to crush her skull in between your legs a couple hours before the most important event of the year is a completely normal request. And she continues to act this way, even when she slips her hand into your panties, fingers eagerly in search of your clit. “So what I’m hearing is you don’t want to sit on my face, and you don’t want me to make you feel so good that you forget all about this stupid dress and that stupid gala?”

Your back arches into her chest when she starts rubbing your clit in small circles, lips widening into a smile as she watches you unravel against her. “That’s not what I said.”

“So why are you acting like you don’t want it?” She’s taunting you now, fingers halting all movement on your clit and sliding down lower, tips starting to tease your quivering hole. “Because I know you want it, baby. She’s telling me you want it.”

You hate how Vi can read you like a book. You do want this, but you’re worried, and she makes sure to eliminate of all of that worry by slipping her fingers into your cunt, mouth dropping open in wonder when you begin to crumple against her.

“Vi, please.”

“No.” Stubborn. “You’re not cumming unless you’re where you're supposed to be, princess. My game, my rules, and no amount of that pretty begging is gonna change that.”

You bite your lip as you feel her palm grind against your clit, fingers speeding up and continually assaulting your sweet spot. It’s so hard not to beg her to let you cum, especially with the way she’s holding eye contact with you so intensely.

“Say the words, and that orgasm’s yours,” she mumbles, smile ever present as her fingers alternate speeds. “Come on baby, I know you can.”

You can, you will, and you do. Your pleas to cum are replaced with nonsensical begging and whimpering, your hands futilely clawing at her biceps as you try to rip her fingers away from your weeping hole. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just let me cum, Vi, please-”

All of a sudden, the pressure building up inside of you dissipates, and you notice Vi licking her fingers clean as she backs towards the bed. “That’s what I like to hear,” she laughs, sitting down on the bed in a way that has you weak in the knees. “Come take a seat, princess.”

Embarrassingly enough, that’s all it takes to have you stepping out of the pool of fabric on the floor and crawling onto the bed towards her, legs planted on either side of her hips as you bend over and catch her lips in a heated kiss. It’s loud and it’s messy, her hands sliding up your thighs and onto your covered ass as you grind down onto her knee, tongue intertwining with hers in a clash of passion and need.

“Good fucking girl,” she groans, squeezing the flesh of your ass before slapping it hard, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. “Come on, baby, c’mere, come sit.”

Your hands splay the surface of her chest as you push her back onto the bed lightly, chest heaving gently with every heated breath you take. Vi looks up at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, because to her, you are, and she wouldn’t want to be underneath anyone else.

“There she is,” she whispers as you situate yourself comfortably on her chest. “My pretty girl, huh?”

“I’m nervous,” you mumble, hips beginning to move slowly as you plant your hands on either side of her head. “I… don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” She captures your hips in her strong hands and pulls you further up her body, letting you hover just above her collarbone. “I’ve lifted this perfect body with my own two hands before. What makes you think a little face sitting will hurt me?”

In a way, she’s right. Vi is strong, more so than most people. If it got too much, she would be able to move you effortlessly, and-

You’re pulled out of your train of thought by the feeling of Vi’s nose nestling in between your legs, rubbing up against your pulsing clit under your panties. “Vi…”

“You’re thinkin’ too much, baby,” she groans, voice muffled in between your thighs. “Just do it.” This time, she doesn’t leave you any time to think, because she’s now mouthing at your cunt through your panties, strong arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you ever closer. You gasp in surprise, one hand coming up to grip onto the headboard as you fight not to lose balance.

Another thing about Vi: she’s impatient. And when you hesitate to begin moving your hips, she does it for you, fingers pulling the seat of your underwear to one side and arms pushing you down hard.

“She’s so wet, baby, I don’t know how you can say you don’t want this.” Her tongue darts out to lick your throbbing clit and you whine, hips stuttering as you stare hazily at the mess of pink hair in between your legs. Vi is staring up at you with lust swirling in her eyes, and you can feel her smile on your cunt as her tongue slides downwards to your entrance. “I mean, she is practically begging me to eat her out. Is that what you want?”

Before you can answer her, you’re caught off guard by her hand slapping at your clit playfully, sending pleasured shockwaves throughout your system. “ ‘M not talking to you anymore, silly,” she laughs, thumbs rubbing at the area she just assaulted. “I’m talking to her, since my girl doesn’t seem to know what she wants anymore.”

“Stop it,” you grumble, but Vi pays no notice, resuming her languid licks on your pussy. Your protests are quickly turned into prolonged whines and whimpers of her name, the pressure once taken from you beginning to build in your core with each shallow thrust of her tongue into your hole.

“Not until she’s satisfied, angel.” And she means it, because the grip she has on your thighs is nothing next to lethal, and you feel yourself begin to shake as the pressure builds more and more. “And she’s getting close, don’t you think?”

She is. Your head begins to swim and you tangle your fingers in Vi’s hair in an attempt to stabilise yourself but it proves futile, mouth dropping open as you beg her to let you finish. “Vi, please, please, I’m sorry, I-”

“Nothin’ to apologise for, angel, you’re doing a great job.” You have no idea how she still manages to speak when she’s being all but crushed in the trap that is your quivering thighs, but her voice drives you ever closer, your hips grinding down onto her happily awaiting tongue as you chase your orgasm desperately. You want it- no, you need it, and when she begins to massage your ass sensually, you think you might just squirt.

“Vi...”

“Yeah, baby? Is she telling you something?” She loves playing this game, delaying your orgasm as long as possible whilst making it impossible to hold yourself back. It feels like her hands are everywhere because suddenly her thumb is massaging your clit, and you’re begging her like there’s no tomorrow.

She seems satisfied by your begging, because she takes one arm off of your thigh to use her fingers to fuck your needy cunt. “Cum for me baby, c,mon. Give it to me.”

And give it to her, do you, and in gracious abundance at that. Your juices drench her face unceremoniously as you twitch above her, spine shaking as you hold on to her hair for dear life. You’re all but riding her tongue, and she’s moaning profusely into your cunt, the vibrations only heightening your sensitivity. And try as you might, you can’t pull her away, her mouth a suction as she pushes you unforgivingly into overstimulation.

When you’re all but ready to surrender your stability to her relentless assault in between your legs, you feel a strong pair of hands lifting you off of her mouth gently, and light kisses being littered all over the expanse of your thighs. Vi’s mouth travels along your skin lazily, her powdery blue eyes looking up at your shaky form with nothing but love etched into her irises. You barely begin to register the sweet praises she gives you, instead basking in the afterglow of your intense climax mixed with the feeling of her hands stroking your back.

Moments later and you’re laying down on the bed next to her, curled in a foetal position as you fight the army of sleep threatening to overthrow you. “Are you tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you… skip the gala? Stay here with me, I’ll cook, and…”

You think the difference between the Vi laying next to you now and the Vi who made you climax to the brink of passing out is a cute one. She’s never been too good with aftercare, instead trying to make awkward conversation in an attempt to divert from the fact that she just rocked your world in more ways than one. “We can stay home. I’ll tell the organisers I wasn’t feeling too well.” That, and the fact that god awful dress made you want to bust a nerve.

Vi smiles at you gently, and you wish you could stay like this with her forever. “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”

main masterlist

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane smut #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi smut #league of legends #league of legends x reader #league of legends smut #fanfic #x reader

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lukmebel · 1 year ago

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⭐ Feel like a star with our dressing table.⭐

Gold and shine is your favourite combination? If so, our Sienna Gold dressing table will be perfect for you!

The extremely sleek Sienna dressing table is a pretty and aesthetically pleasing option for lovers of elegant finishes.

It will work well in any space where luxury plays an important role.

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yanderenightmare · 4 months ago

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All For One

TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, captive reader, mind deterioration

fem reader

All For One has a habit of subjugating you for his own pleasure.

It’s a game he likes to play—quite like chess, only… you start off with a single pawn, and you don’t know any of the rules. And he’s been world champion ten years in a row. And he plays dirty.

Tonight, he’s dressed you up in a costume. Not any old Halloween costume, but a slutty one. Not a playboy bunny or a maid, nor a schoolgirl—this was worse—a sleazy rendition of your old hero uniform.

You’d barely recognized the faintly familiar design when he first laid it out on the bed for you. Silly and naïve, you thought his games of derision would end when you finally offered your submission, but that was a fool’s thought. What fun were you if not proof of his undying victory—a reminder, a trophy, a relic?

It’s beyond degrading. Tight and revealing. Less than an actual costume, it was more something one would wear in the bedroom, cosplaying for some fantasy starring an overly sexualized you. Only God knows where he’d gotten it from.

Your steel armor, once with the dignity of a knight, had instead been swapped out for a silly silver bikini—the shimmery fabric tacky and cheap, allowing your nipples to peak forth. Covering it was a top and a skirt made up of silver chains, which only further mocked the appearance of chainmail—looking more like the jewelry a stripper might wear.

He’d forgone your helmet, boots, and sword entirely. Truly, if it weren’t for the detailing of the pattern making the fabric vaguely resemble plated armor, it wouldn’t have been much different from any other set of lingerie.

And still, it’s just similar enough to make it sting.

“Look at you...” he jeers, his voice sodden with taunt—carmine stare faded and gleeful, thoroughly enjoying it. “What a sight for sore eyes.”

He stands behind you in the mirror, holding you delicately by the hips, intimately close, dressed in another one of his black suits, fully clothed in devastating contrast to you. His smile curls as he roams your ill-covered body, kissed with the flush of chagrin, leering at you in the reflection—his voice slithering right by your ear.

“Though I can’t say I remember it being quite so revealing, can you?” he jokes, running his hands up and down your waist, fiddling some with the intricacies—metal daintily clinking and clangoring. “No, there’s something else that’s different...”

You feel so humiliated, so small—as if he could hold you up by the scruff of your neck with ease. It isn’t just a feeling—you’re well aware that he most likely could.

“Why yes, of course…” he hums with delayed realization—you know he’s faking for anticipation, chittering while wrapping his thick arms around your tiny midsection, giving you a firm squeeze. “You’ve lost all muscle.”

It’s a painful truth. You don’t know how many months it’s been. Perhaps a year has passed already, maybe even more. He keeps you well aware of his triumph in the outside world, but time still eludes you.

You’d tried maintaining it in the beginning, even after he’d taken your quirk. You’d been vigilant, keeping up your workout regimens just as religiously as before. But you couldn’t pick what you ate, nor when—and he’d only feed you cake. It wasn’t long before all your hard-earned muscles had melted away like popsicle syrup off the stick, licked and lapped right up by the man holding you.

“Mmh, yes…” he murmurs gratingly while swaying you back against him, lips pressing against your ear. “And it’s left you oh-so-soft.”

His bulbous crotch slots against your upper ass, resting there as it grows fatter and warm—a sign of his enjoyment. The weight of him makes you feel all but paper-thin.

His voice rasps now. “If I were to give you your quirk back, I wager you wouldn’t even be able to use it anymore—it would sooner rip your poor limbs apart.”

It’s beyond cruel to suggest—as if disgracing your old costume wasn’t enough torment already. You bite your lip, gnaw it harshly—don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t let him see you cry.

“Isn’t that just fascinating?” He gives your earlobe a gentle bite, and the whimper in your throat springs free like prey out of hiding.

A sniffle shortly followed—along the dribble of the night’s very first tears. Your diminished spirit has made you all too prone to cry as if there’s nothing else for you to do but indulge in the small comfort it gives.

“Oh, sweetie—don’t weep over prowess long since lost. It was never enough to challenge me anyway,” he coos, as if consoling you—swaying your smaller brittle body back against his looming chest, a cage that seemed to swallow you whole.

Steering your jaw, he holds your face still before the mirror, unable to look away as the tears dribble down your sorry cheeks—he smears them further with a kiss.

“The world would chew you up as you are now, fragile like glass.” The grin curling his lips makes you resemble prey caught on a predator’s teeth—you can’t help but shiver at the sight of it. You wish he wouldn’t toy with you like food and just kill you already. “Mark my words, hero—the belly of the beast would not grant you as much comfort as I do.”

His other hand slips down to cup your mound—firmly, with a squeeze that has you curl yourself back against him as he presses two tough fingerpads into your clothed clit, rubbing it tightly enough to make your thighs shake.

“You’re better off like this,” he grunts, snickers at how your weak hands clutch the sleeve of his suit, curling the fabric in your palms until your knuckles whiten—watching the furrow further crease between your cinched brows as you try and bite back your pathetic little sounds even as more tears come tumbling down your swollen cheeks. “Mh, my pretty plaything.”

He makes you continue to look at yourself as he simply slides the panty to the side of your cunt. Encouraging you to place your hands flat against the mirror as he bends you forward, then to step back and stand atop his dress shoes.

“Don’t be shy now,” he makes sure to tell you. “You’re as light and negligible as a feather.”

He parts his feet and yours along with them, spreading your thighs enough to accommodate the fat heat he soon slides between them. Rigid and veiny, it competes with the size of your forearm—so thick that when he slaps it up against your slit, your knees buckle from the impact.

His chuckles rumble across your body like an earthquake. You only realize how much it makes you shake when he encloses your hip in his big hand, steadying you. Holding you still as he drags his engorged cockhead through your lips, catching your clit before resting on your entrance.

You’re so sore from prior nights—countless hours locked in this room with his visits the only thing keeping you company—everything has yet to forgive you for the wreckage those visits leave behind. Your sorry little puss rues and dreads another defeat now as he sinks inside the comfort of your battered walls, one unyielding inch at a time.

You wince and tense, shoulders bracing, and yet he pushes deeper, sliding you down his shaft until you rest at the hilt of his base, kneading the tip into your gummy womb, giving it a deep kiss that bulges out from your poor belly.

The sight in the mirror is morbid, even more so than the feeling—the way he molds your insides to fit him, to cater and house his length and size.

“Ah—just perfect, isn’t it, hero?” he purrs, chest resting heavily upon your spine while dwarfing both your hips in a firm grip, chin-stubble scraping along your neck as his voice comes out hot against your ear, “Obedience suits you so well, don’t you agree?”

Your knees buckle once he starts the heavy pace—slowly pounding into you from behind, dragging out and pushing deep in womb-robbing thrusts. You pant from the toll of it, feeling your muscles give—too tired and too broken to continue acting tough. He’s the only reason you’re left upright on your feet—keeping you standing with just his hold on your haunches. It seems like nothing to him, though it feels like the weight of the world to you.

“It’s only a shame it had to come with all these scars.” He clicks his tongue, eyes raking across your body as it takes him, resting on each mark disrupting the otherwise milk-smooth skin. “If only you’d accepted your place sooner.”

The ember burning within you is all but a piece of cooling charcoal now. You feel it diminish every day, leaving you even thinner than before.

“But then again, I quite enjoy you like this—littered with my battle scars from your toes up to your crown. It’s rather intimate, isn’t it?” he hums with a smile. “Proof of all the times I could’ve quashed you beneath my foot like a pitiful bug but decided to spare you. Teach you how to worship like the weak ought to.”

There was a time when you still humored the thought of killing him, even with your quirk taken from you. You thought, in your foolishness, that being this close to him must garner an opportunity, any, however slim, just enough for you to take advantage and finish what you vowed to end so long ago.

Now, you almost don’t care anymore. The world had moved on without you, and there was nothing more you could do about it.

You realize your promise had been as cheap as this outfit.

“The greater the fall, the sweeter the surrender, isn’t that right?” he states. “Doesn’t it feel good to finally accept your place in the world, hero?”

You can only nod your head and agree.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

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kurooh · 8 months ago

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HAIKYUU BRAINROT.

☆ includes: timeskip! miya atsumu, miya osamu, oikawa tōru, kageyama tobio, semi eita, sakusa kiyōmi, kuroo tetsurō.

☆ warnings: 18+ content, f! reader, drug use [weed], oral (f&m receiving), lingerie, cream pies, dirty talk, slightly rough sex, praise, being tied up, blindfolds, mirror sex, 69, food play, shower sex, not proofread.

waiting in lacy lingerie for atsumu the day before his birthday, rose petals strewn around the floor and leading to the bedroom. your skin illuminated by the soft candlelight of the bedroom, the lingerie accentuating every inch of your body. he gets home, kisses you, fingers you until you cum, whining his name. he reaches towards the nightstand, remembering to use a condom, but you stop him, tell him one of his gifts is going raw. excited, he pushes into you, and doesn’t last long. all he can think of is filling you up, using the cum as lube to keep going.

when the restaurant is vacant, and it’s just you and osamu, he sometimes loves to have dessert. more specifically, you for dessert. you take a can of whipped cream, specially tucked away in the very back of the office mini fridge for moments like these. you make swirls on your nipples, make a sloppy heart on your pelvis. eagerly, he sucks onto your nipples, biting and kissing each as his tongue makes quick work of the cream. then, he kisses down your body, staring at you hungrily as he licks your pelvis clean. he fingers you as you shakily make new designs on your skin. he takes your clit between his lips and sucks, savoring the taste. he thinks you’re sweeter than any kind of dessert.

you run to eita after his performance at a concert, grinding on him ever so slightly when you hug him, squeezing your tits together when you ask why he’s pissy. “get the hell in the dressing room,” he hissed, grabbing your hand tightly and dragging you along. a small breeze rushes up your skirt, brushing against your bare pussy. he pushes you in, turns to lock the door, and turns back to you. you jump onto him and kiss him; he catches you, and stumbles towards his cluttered desk with the lit mirror. with one arm, he sweeps everything off and places you down, yanking up your skirt to eat you out. he buries himself between your thighs, fingering and sucking and licking roughly, just the way you like it. your back arches when you cum, and you moan loudly, but he tells you to be quiet as he picks you up again and presses you against a nearby wall. he lifts your skirt again, yanks his pants down, and presses into you quickly. eita tucks his face into your neck, fucking you hard. his pelvis rubs against your clit as he fucks, causing you to cum on his cock — your orgasm spurs on his own, and though you were both supposed to be quiet, you cum loudly together. with you, he can’t even think about how he’ll have to play everything off with his friends when he steps out.

tōru takes a hit of the pen, slapping your ass and squeezing it as he exhales the smoke over your back. it’s warm and smooth, a contrast to how hot and rough he’s fucking your pussy. your eyes water as your mouth dries up, the heat of arousal itching all over inside your body. he passes it to you, and all you can do is grip it and the sheets as he groans, his eyes falling shut as he grips your hips and listens to the sounds of his balls smacking against your clit, his hips slapping into your ass. “that’s perfect tōru, that’s just how i want it,” you babble, your mind racing with thoughts of him. being high together is occasional, and it’s always some of the best sex with him. he gets off on praise, even more so when he’s high, his loud groans breaking into tiny moans as you cry his name. “you feel s-so good, i love it when you fuck me like this, please don’t stop,” you push your head down into the sheets and raise your ass against his hips more, arms shaking. he collapses onto your back with a wheezy sigh, moaning loudly as his cock pumps all of his cum into you. he always cums a lot, and harder, when he’s high; he cries into your shoulder as you weakly throw your ass back onto him, a signal to keep going.

water rushes over your lower back and ass as you scoot forward, closer to tobio’s thighs. his tip bumps the back of your throat and you fight a gag back, taking him as deep as you can. your lips are wrapped around his base, long strings of spit leaking from your lips; the water washes it away. “mmm, fuck,” he hisses, his hand cupping the back of your head as he tries his best not to slip. “you feel so good.” he pushes you into his pelvis, yanks you back and then down again steadily. he’s always loved fucking your face like this. gasping, his body curls forward, over your head, and he can’t hold himself back as his free hand grips onto the shower curtain. his cock slams down your throat, the feeling so tight your eyes can only water as you let out gurgly moans around his wet cock. when he cums, he holds you down against him, whining curses at the way you greedily swallow all of it. somehow, he doesn’t pull the shower curtain down. when you pull back, he kisses you immediately, tongue meshing with yours. tobio loves tasting a little bit of himself on your tongue.

one night, you and kiyoomi decide to try something new. he ties you up to the bed, your legs spread, your pussy wet, and a silky black blindfold wrapped around your head. you hear the sounds of clothes being folded and placed onto the bed in front of you, and you twist helplessly. “omi, i fucking need you.” he sighs shakily, “of course, my love.” seeing you like this is beyond hot; he’s been dreaming of you looking like this for him. he grabs his cock, and guides his tip to your wet pussy. he slowly rubs his tip through your sticky folds, gasping as he watches you try to jerk your hips forward in a futile attempt to get him inside you. feeling his cock grow harder, kiyoomi keeps the tease going for a little longer until he decides he can’t take it anymore and pushes inside you. he presses inch by inch inside you, his hand landing on your pelvis with his thumb pressed to your clit. “fuuuck!” you feel like screaming at him, begging him to fuck you senselessly, desperate for his cum and all the pleasure he has to give. instead, you rein yourself in a little. “kiyoomi,” there’s something dark and demanding in your voice, even though you’re tied up. wasn’t he in control here? “yeah?” he develops a quick pace, gritting his teeth every time his tip hits the deepest parts of you. “i want you to fuck me until—shit!—until i’m screaming.” “you know i will,” is all he can say as he grips your hips and ruthlessly slams into you.

you look ahead through lidded eyes, into the mirror and at your obscene reflection. you’re on top of tetsurō, his cock stuffing your mouth as the rest of your body shakes in his grip. he yanked your ass down into his face, sucking your clit harder as two of his fingers thrust in and out of you. one of his large hands grips your hip, his nails digging into his skin more as you deepthroat him, leaving crescent moon indents in your skin. you watch as spit drips down his cock, down his balls, onto the towel below you. you feel your orgasm nearing, your pleasure climbing quickly when he mercilessly sucks your clit. he had told you before: “watch yourself in the mirror as we cum together.” you agreed, doubting you’d cum with tetsu. he said, “good girl.” and then pulled your pussy down to his mouth. moaning on his cock while he moans into your pussy, you feel the familiar heat blaze through the entirety of your lower body. you also feel his cock tighten, then begin to pulse as he cums hard in your mouth. as you cum on his fingers, jerking your hips back, you catch a quick glimpse at yourself in the mirror; spit covers your lips, your hair is mussed, and you look so unbelievably fucked out, drunk on tetsurō.

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junislqve · 6 months ago

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ᯓ million dollar — ot7

syn when the members spend their (unlimited) money on you. (1770 words)

pairs richboy!members + reader | cw mentions of money petnames — mlist navi

notes richboy members are having a chokehold on me lately

LEE HEESEUNG

“take as much time as you want, love”

earlier that day, you were scouring your closet for a decent dress. flipping through the same five for the past hour.

your boyfriend, grumbling about how you should get back to bed, watched as you pick up the same clothes. his eyes never leaving your figure, staring up at you through the mirror you were using to look at the picks.

heeseung slowly got up and hugged you from behind, burying his head on your neck. kissing your shoulder blades up to the back of your ear.

“do you need a new dress, love?”

after very few talking from heeseung and much more complaints from you, he somehow convinced you to get ready.

and that is how you’ve ended up in one of the famous streets in your city. lined up with the prettiest boutiques and malls.

heeseung wrapped his hands around yours and walked to a favorite store of yours. remembering how you’ve ever mentioned how badly you wanted to go back and buy something from it, months ago.

walking in, your small pout turned into the biggest, heart-pounding grin he’s ever seen. he bit his lip containing his own smile and dug out his wallet.

“spend it all on anything you want, baby”

PARK JONGSEONG

as a musician, looking at instruments is like strolling through heaven. admiring all the small intricate details engraved.

jay loved his guitars like it was his own child, he understands what it’s like to spend thousand and even more on just a single guitar. not that it would do anything to his bank.

you’ve never really asked jay for anything for as long as you’ve been dating. rather using your own money to buy whatever you want than letting your boyfriend buy it for you.

it wasn’t like jay didn’t want you to buy things using his card, he actually offers it most times than not. it was you who never lets him buy anything for you.

“use my card to buy the groceries, babe”

you refused to take his card whenever you could. because of this, jay has learned to pay without you knowing. usually when your back is turned or when you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

right now, your boyfriend is tagging along with you as you browse through the island of pianos; ranging from yamaha to bluthner.

you stopped abruptly as your eyes fell on a piano that had you immediately captivated, from the design of the lid to the shape of the pedals, you thought it was the most beautiful piano you’ve ever seen.

when you were admiring the piano, trying out the keys and sitting on the soft cushion of the chair. you failed to realize your boyfriend had silently called the seller and slid his card. smiling down at your frowning figure.

“it’ll arrive by tomorrow morning, love”

SIM JAEYUN

“but you look so good in these, babe”

opening your apartment door with a click, the lights turned on to greet you with the copious amounts of packages laid on your living room.

the packages were of different sizes and stacked side by side. what’s worse is that you can’t remember buying all of the things you did, having to open up each package to know what and when you bought them.

you called up your boyfriend, who had brought in all of your packages earlier in the day when he paid a visit to your unit to pick up a small bag you forgot to bring.

“i seriously need to go on a ban”

“no you don’t baby, besides, you use my card when you buy anything” jake says, laying his head atop yours as he turned on a movie an hour ago to stop your fussing.

“that’s not the point, jake. i need to stop buying random things online. i can’t keep flooding my bedroom” you sigh.

“then just put the things you don’t like anymore in my apartment, you’ll have more space that way” jake smiles down at you, kissing your temples.

that was one week ago. somehow, he had convinced you to ‘accompany’ him on a late night rendezvous to prada. it was all fine at first when he was just looking at the suits. but now, he’s trying to convince you to buy two pairs of their new summer series glasses.

“i can buy this next time, babe” you finally say, sighing, after letting him talk about all the new luxury pieces of the summer set, desperately trying to talk his way into letting him buy you one.

“oh” he trails off, a sheepish grin creeping up on his face “about that, i’ve already paid”

PARK SUNGHOON

as a person who always loved the mountains, you find yourself spending weekends driving up one usually catching the sunset. this was already a routine even before you met sunghoon.

and now, you still kept up that routine whenever you weren’t too busy, your boyfriend always opting to tag along despite his complaints about being too tired. he wouldn’t actually pass up an opportunity to be with you.

you always loved traveling, within the city and during long holidays, out. liking the feeling of driving past the roads and seeing the scenery once the mountains come into view.

when sunghoon found out about this interest of yours, he started searching up for places with the most beautiful mountain sceneries. over the past years, he’s taken you to numerous countrysides and mountaintops inside and outside of the country.

even when you say it was fine if you were to only travel within the country, he loves seeing the way your eyes widen adorably during a gorgeous sunset that would rarely happen in-country. that’s why, the moment he tracks down a specific date that you both were going to be free for at least three days, sunghoon would immediately book a ticket to whatever country he’s been searching up.

on a random afternoon, sunghoon knocks on your bedroom door, walking in your apartment. as you open the door, there he stood with a big suitcase and that sweet smile of his.

“better pack up now, baby. we’re leaving in a few hours”

KIM SUNOO

sunoo knows you more than you know yourself, he’s quick to learn your body language and certain expressions you make.

it’s really hard to lie to him when he knows how to poke at you the right way to make you open up about your worries.

sometimes he just lets you have it, he knows you would at one point tell him about the things you’re going through. he trusts you on that.

but at times, he knows when you need a bit more of a cheer up. sunoo loves spending his money on you, buying you clothes, makeup, accessories. one of the things he realizes is that you love wearing jewelry. finishing up an outfit by adding a necklace or bracelets along your arm. that conveniently also accentuates your features.

he spends alot of time with you picking out sets for outfits you were going to wear for upcoming events. jewelry, he realizes is one of the things that can easily cheer you up, besides himself, of course.

so as the sweet boyfriend he is, sunoo dragged you to the jewelry store despite your sulks. and the moment your eyes laid on the glittering pearls, all of your problems seem to dissipate. just like how your boyfriend had expected.

with a giggle, sunoo starts asking the seller to bring out the full set for you to try on. patting you on the head as you continue to stare at the long rows of necklaces.

“buy whatever you want, okay? after this we can cuddle for as long as you need”

YANG JUNGWON

he would remember everything you’ve ever said to him. you like sweets? he remembers. you like flowery perfume? he remembers. you like that one specific lipstick brand that’s best bought in singapore? he remembers.

it’s not odd to get home to a bunch off boxes filled with gifts and food and random things whenever jungwon’s just went home from a trip anywhere.

anything you’ve said even before you two were dating seems to be engraved in his head like muscle memory. he can be strolling through a street market in japan and a small store would catch his eye, the next moment you would find his hands filled with keychains of a cartoon character you said you liked years ago.

his job requires him to fly countries often and it used to be a problem for you both as it means you can’t really meet him as much. but after years, both you and jungwon still communicate alot. him usually asking to facetime you at random hours of the day or night and sending you pictures of what he was doing.

both of you readjusted quite well to this arrangement and thankfully his work doesn’t demand a long period of time during those trips.

“babe there’s no way i can finish all of this by myself” you laugh seeing all of the things he bought you.

“then we can finish them together” he says, dimples peeking out through the smile “that way i can come by more often”

NISHIMURA RIKI

as days start to get more busy, you and your boyfriend find yourselves going on a short getaway to the outskirts of the city.

he showed up at your apartment one night and pulled you out of it with no explanation. you weren’t going to question him though, letting him take you wherever.

you both ended up on a train station, waiting for the last train to arrive. about an hour later, you landed on a small, but really nice accommodation.

the moment you stepped in the room, riki launched himself on the bed sighing in content.

“i want to live here forever” he mumbles out against one of the pillows.

“we both still have school tomorrow” you sat on the bed beside him, opening up your phone to continue the essay you were working on. only for it to be tackled down a second later, your boyfriend pulling you to lay down beside him.

silence filled the room, only yours and your boyfriend’s soft breathing. riki mumbled something against your hair. you hummed in question.

“let’s get room service” he says. you knew it was going to happen, it always happened. but here you are, sat on the hotel chair with too much food both of you know you can’t finish. he had a habit of buying you whatever he thought you’d like and it wasn’t like he’s wrong. the bowls of food on the table are all your favorites and you don’t even know where to start.

he really doesn’t spend much on things, but he loves going on little getaways with you every once in a while. sleeping on the comfiest beds (besides his or yours) and eating room service. something about it just brings a peaceful kind of silence for him.

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urbanwood12 · 2 years ago

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2 door multi-utility wardrobe for the bedroom

#wardrobe design #modern wardrobe design #modern wardrobe designs for bedroom #wooden wardrobe design #latest wardrobe design #wooden cupboard design #wardrobe design with mirror #designer wardrobe #master bedroom modern wardrobe designs for bedroom #master bedroom wardrobe design with dressing table

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tteokdoroki · 9 months ago

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HIGH HEELS - ryomen sukuna.

౨ৎ — about. “sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much.” as rough and rugged as he may seem, ryomen sukuna lives to see his girl happy. he loves to see her smile. he loves to know she feels as good as she looks…but when you end up looking a little too good in a certain pair of heels, he can’t be blamed for making you late for a dreaded dinner... ( 6.2K )

౨ৎ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, pwp — video banner. modern!au, rich girl!au, forbidden romance, reader has sisters, degradation, praise, pain play, fingering (f!receiving), exhibitionism, slight!daddy kink, hold the moan, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), masturbation (m!receiving), cum play, creampies, modern bf!sukuna, rich girl fem!reader.

౨ৎ — things to note. haii everyone ! it’s been a while since i posted a longer fic so im excited. this was supposed to be a thirst lol. i’m just testing the waters with my version of modern bf!sukuna ! many thanks to @yennified for the ask that inspired it all. i’d like to thank everyone for their patience ‘n i hope you enjoy mwah mwah <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

“we’re going to be late, hot stuff.”

“no we’re not, ryo. give me five minutes! i just need to —“

if there’s one thing ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori had learned from dating you, is that time management was never and never will be your strong suit.

if the phrase fashionably late could be embodied as a person, sukuna believes that it would definitely take the shape of you. you and your beautiful brown eyes that plead with him to give you a moment not even five minutes before you leave the house for dinner reservations. you and your sinful curves only accentuated the silk slip dresses you spend so long steaming before sukuna takes you out for the night. you and your perfect lips that have to be painted with the right gloss or lipstick to match your nails, purse and heels.

all of you, and your beauty, make up the meat and bones of the phrase ‘fashionably late.’

just like right now, where you sit reapplying your hot chocolate lip gloss, perched on the edge of the luxurious king sized bed you’d demanded be in your hotel room. a room booked by your father for a family-oriented get-away. sukuna hadn’t wanted to come, as a man from humble beginnings, using your daddy’s money wasn’t something that he favoured — but the man liked to see his girl happy. sukuna lives to make you happy, even if he won’t admit it.

“do ya really need five minutes to fix your lip gloss?” the pink haired man chides, sweeping a hand through his rosette locks in the mirror as he re-enters your bedroom. “i’ve seen you do it in less, gorgeous,” blood red eyes are quick to place you in the centre of the room — they never stray from you for too long, sukuna will always find you in a room no matter how busy or bare it is. your presence fills him with love and brings him comfort, even if he refuses to accept that as his truth.

there’s a coldness to the look you give him over your compact mirror while you rub the swell of your lips together, spreading the pigment across them easily. it’s a warning not to rush you, a warning to your boyfriend who knows better. “i said, i need my five minutes.”

ryomen drops the topic with a shrug, fixing his silky tie at the collar of his dress shirt — the one you’d so carefully picked because it matches the deep tone of his eyes and the colour of your slip dress. a mark of possession on your part. once he’s done, he takes to packing your designer clutch with all of your essentials from the dresser — blotting powder, your purse, any silver jewellery you’ll want to put on in the car. he slips on a couple of expensive rings to match with you too.

sukuna is more prepared for this dinner with your insufferable relatives than you are. he knows that tonight will be about your little sister and the rich lord she’s bagged as her boyfriend along with how soon they’ll be getting married. or it’ll focus on your older sister and her marriage that she’s trying so hard to keep together, despite it clearly falling apart. both of your siblings seem to think that they’re above you and your brooding, misunderstood boyfriend.

but you don’t believe that.

and you like to rub your love for one another in their bitter faces.

“pretty girl,” sukuna purrs, his chest rumbling with affection once he takes note of your heels discarded to the side. their silver sparkles glint under the warm embrace of the lighting up above. sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. they’re expensive too — he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much. “if you don’t hurry up, we won’t be able to brag to your bitchy sisters about how in love we are.”

by no means is sukuna a man of weak resolve. his will is as strong as his exterior — coated in the scars of his rough past like the thick black tattoos that ink his arms. he remains strong in every scenario except for ones that concern you, one look from you and you’ve got that mountain of a man crumbling like an avalanche and falling to his knees. you cast your boyfriend an amused gaze, smacking your lips as you watch him sink to his knees before your very eyes.

once again, your man takes the hint — thick fingers reaching for your glittery red bottom heels on the floor before he brings them up to the soles of your feet without a word. “you know how much i love the sound of that, ryo,” comes your dark hum, the colour of your eyes dimming with a desire ryomen sukuna knows all too well. “but i don’t see an issue with looking good while i do it.”

“you’re right,” sukuna quips in a husky tone, taking one foot and slipping one of your expensive shoes onto it. “who cares if we’re late to meet your sisters. as long as you feel as good as you look — i couldn’t give a fuck.” his thick fingers that know the twitches and ticks of your body oh-so-well reach for the straps of your heels and slowly begin weaving them around your ankle, upwards.

his blood red eyes remain hooked on your exposed thighs and supple skin, littered with a beautiful array of marks and scars from over your years of existence. some from before you even knew of ryomen, others from during your time together. “do you think i look good, baby?” you ask him innocently, leaning back on the bed with the palms of your hands lost in the whipped peaks of expensive cotton sheets — most exclusively found in this five star hotel.

sukuna grins in that slow and sexy way which makes your stomach lurch with lust, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. “fuckin’ gorgeous, they’ll be shakin with rage.” he says, praise melting on the tip of his tongue. his words, in a symphony syllables, are accompanied by an undercover tune of desire — sukuna is a hungry man with little patience and a big appetite. once he’s settled on something, he’s damn sure to get it.

tonight; his prey is you.

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink hair bends at the neck to press a chaste kiss to your knee cap, smoothing the rough surface of his palms and workman’s hands over your doughy thighs — massaging you, easing any knots and tension beneath the top layer of your warm skin. his lips, only slightly chapped, curl upwards with a knowing smile when you let out a pleased chirp. sukuna’s hands work wonders on your body — causing your mind to drift away from the family dinner that awaits you.

tonight; you could very well fall victim to the claws and fangs ryomen sukuna possesses.

kisses quickly become open mouthed and wet, hot and slippery over your flesh — and soon, sukuna adds teeth to the mix once he reaches your inner thighs, littering the area with deep shades of purple and midnight blue. he had no intentions of ravaging you like this, at least not so soon, but with a woman this irritable and fiery and troublesome on his arm how could he not? they say that you attract what you put out and the mirthy look in your eye, hidden between beautiful brown flecks of innocence, tells sukuna that you’re exactly what his guarded soul has been looking for all of his life.

his pulse quickens beneath the calcium cage of his chest — heart beat rising as you allow his curious lips and pink fluffy hair begin to disappear under the silky fabric of your figure-hugging dress. sukuna can practically taste you, the air underneath your skirt is dewy and warm and your flavour (that he knows oh so well) lingers within its particles.

god, he wants you so bad. he doesn’t even care how this may look.

a man like him on his knees, ready to worship you as if you spout riches and bleed liquid gold.

except you do, you’re worth more than sukuna could ever hope to be. the weight of your net-worth unfairly tips the scales and he doesn’t even care. all because he loves you.

“why’re we even goin’ to this stupid dinner in the first place?” your rough and ragged boyfriend ponders out loud, with his words slipping over the edge of his sneaky snake's tongue. said tongue, if ryomen inches forward enough, could drag over your budding clit — clearly outlined through the barely-there crotch of your lace panties. “spend the night with me, doll. don’t gotta go a place…” a thick finger pulls the string of fabric away from your sticky slit, toying with the material until your premature arousal glazes his fingertip.

but before the man can reward himself with the goods between your perfect thighs — the sharp point of your heel digs into ryomen’s firm right pec. your shoes are clean so they won’t leave a mark, but he feels like you’ve left one on his heart, even as the bottom of your shoe pushes him back and away from your warmth.

“oh ryo, you must be hungry for the wrong thing,” you laugh breathlessly with your head tipping backwards, the sound shooting straight down to the hardness beneath sukuna’s black slacks. you push at him further until he rests back on his haunches — expression crazed and like a starved animal. “you forgot the other shoe, love.”

it turns out, you’re just as skilled a huntress as sukuna is. a vixen who stalks her prey and makes them beg for all her mercy. “how careless of me…” the man drawls, finding himself drawn to you like a moth to a candle’s flame. he craves your attention, he basks in it when you give it to him in the way that you do now. there’s not a moment where you’re not looking at him, admiring the shape and form of your man as if he’s the rarest piece of art in the world or a treasure more expensive than any diamond.

within the depth of those enticing brown eyes lay the truest form of love — even when you’re seconds away from devouring each other, your love for ryomen outgrows any doubt planted in your heart by your bitter family.

“y’must be so disappointed in me…” he goes on, lifting your second ankle in one hand and adjusting your foot into the perfect position to slip your other heel on. “how can i make it up to ya, gorgeous?” sukuna’s voice is gravelly, laced with intonations of neediness as he laces you up and finishes the job with a hand clasped over your knee. “i’ll do anythin’, anythin’ you want.”

graciously, you remove your red bottom from his shoulder and part your knees like the Red Sea — giving the older itadori the perfect view of the small string of fabric nestled between your glistening folds. even with the way you play coy, you’re always ready for him — as if it’s coded into your DNA to yearn for his touch.

the upper row of your teeth sink into your shiny bottom lip as you look down at your man with unadulterated hunger. “anything, ryo?”

sukuna’s chest rumbles (like a storm) with pride, his watchful gaze noting how you twitch and writhe for more. he leans forward and lets his black painted nails sink into the surface of your thighs — dragging you towards his awaiting mouth. “anythin’ for you gorgeous.” he repeats, voice raspy. in one swift movement, your red-bottom heels are swung over wide shoulders with thick muscles, keeping you nice and spread for him.

from over your barely-there-panties, a finger glides through your glistening pussy lips and presses into your budding clit just to get a reaction out of you. a squeak that makes sukuna’s hips buck into the floor and a full body shiver that has your heels knocking behind the man’s head. arousal pearls on his fingertip through the material, which he leisurely rubs into the rest of your heated and throbbing sex, right down to your quivering hole.

two fingers with polished black nails slip past your underwear’s waistband and dip inside of you with practised ease, instantly curling to find that special spot that drives you up the wall. sukuna knows you well, he’s spent years getting to that point. he’s committed every little detail there is to know about you to memory — the your lashes flutter when you like how he touches you, the way your throat bobs just before you mewl out his name. he knows exactly what you like and how to make you feel good. that fact drives sukuna into a frenzy.

his fingers start to work you faster, a lewd suctioning sound echoing throughout the luxurious room the deeper they plunge into you. sukuna’s thumb deliciously rolls over your swollen clit to add to your mounting pleasure, writing the signature of his claim on one of the most sacred parts of your body — where no other person can have you.

“ryomen!” you squeal in surprise, your shaky thighs threatening to close around your boyfriend’s skilled hands. your hole clenches around his thick digits feverishly while drooling directly into the seat of his rough palm.

a resounding chuckle echoes between your legs, vibrating against your syrupy sex as his pink head of hair disappears beneath the hem of your silken skirt. “that good, huh?” comes his lazy reply to your call of his name, using his fingers to fuck your arousal back into you. “what’s the matter, pretty girl?”

condescension twists with your boyfriend’s baritone voice, sending sparks of delight through your body like a thunder strike from zeus himself. when it comes to sex and pleasing you — sukuna is a god amongst mankind. the best you’ve ever had:

“don’t tease,” you growl out impatiently through gritted teeth, though your words melt into a whiny moan when sukuna easily bares down on your g-spot because he knows your squishy insides like the backs of his very hands. he finds it adorable when your face scrunches at the sensation of his cold, silver ring brushing up against your molten, sticky cunt and hums in content when you squirt a little bit for him in response. “we…we h-have plans for tonight!”

“‘m sorry princess, didn’t know we were in a rush.” ryomen says smugly, leaning into the sinful scent of your sex as if he’s been bewitched. not even the sound of your silver gladiator heels knocking against one another behind his head can pull the man out of this reverie. despite your warning, your boyfriend figures that there’s still time to have his way with you, you don’t really care about being on time to meet your family and you hardly have the brain capacity to think about them right now.

not when you fall under the vicious waves of ecstasy and give in to your depraved lover. ryomen quickly has you drowning in pleasure as he finally takes the plunge and replaces his thumb on your clit with his lips wrapped around it. he sucks on the little nub from over your panties, tongue glazing the fabricated barrier with his saliva as he commits the taste of you to memory once again.

your natural musk has sukuna drunk and high within seconds. you’ve got him returning to old habits and addictions he doesn’t have the strength to fight off. you’re bad for him and he knows it, but he can’t help but to make out with your clothed mound like it’s his life’s mission, mapping out the shape of your cunt through the stringy, soiled material. you ought to be embarrassed with the way you throb against sukuna’s eager lips as he buries his face further into your pussy. he inhales sharply, nastily, with his nose nudging against the sensitive treasure in circles — coaxing you open like a flower in the spring bloom.

ecstasy decides to bloom within you too, evergreen roots taking residence deep within your chest and curling around your beating heart. your pulse quickens in anticipation, an intoxicating veil of covetous yearning shrouding your brain in darkness as the tip of sukuna’s tongue now begins to circle your tight little entrance. even with the fabric in the way, you greedily attempt to clench down on his predatory pink appendage and keep him locked inside your cunt — squirting small streams of your juices in the process.

if your siblings could see you right now, how dirtily your man begins to ravage you just minutes before your family dinner while dripping on his tongue and the expensive bed daddy paid for, they’d be horrified. the sentiment strikes a pang of arousal in you, spreading to your boyfriend like a wildfire.

and as ryomen hooks a finger around the soiled gusset of your panties to pull them down, you hardly find it within yourself to care about what your snotty sisters might think — not when you’re about to receive the best head and best orgasm of your life.

“how d’ya wan’it?” instead of making a move to eat you out properly, ryomen takes two fingers and spreads your folds and exposes them to the blazing heat of his breath. exhaling through his nose next, he watches with blood red eyes as you twitch beneath his hold, dribbling liquid gold more than his mouth drools. “you’re so fuckin’ wet…all this from puttin’ on those pretty shoes?” your thigh shifts in response, heels clicking and back arches from luxury sheets crinkling under your back.

huffing impatiently, you send a threatening look down at your boyfriend despite how vulnerable you are to his torture teeth that could tear you apart in an instant. “ryo…your mouth,” you whinge, voice slipping into an almost babyish tone. despite your hard stare, your eyes are wet and wide like a prey animal watching its life go by right before it’s hunted or a deer in headlights, for that matter. “you promised you wouldn’t t-tease!”

“yeah, yeah, i know. ‘m sorry,” sukuna hums confidently, except he’s not really apologetic in the slightest — hardly doing his best to tame the uncomfortable yearning building up at your core. you’re a mess for him and he loves it, he’s entertained by the thought of you needing him so bad that it might kill you. he takes pride in knowing it’s not just him who feels this way. “thank you for tellin’ me, by the way. gonna use my mouth to fuck this pretty pussy til’ she’s creamin’ all for me,” he growls to you in a sultry tone, his aphrodisiac-like words a breath’s width away from your sloppy mound — its timbre sound sending tremors of electricity through your swollen, unattended clit that convulses from the lack of attention.

nothing inflates ryomen sukuna’s ego more than the feeling of your sex throbbing against his face — juices glossing the plump swell of his lips as he wraps them around your puffy pleasure nub. his chest bristles as you open up for him like a flower in spring, the scent of your arousal acting like a perfume to him — the bee with the stinger of pleasure. he works his savage mouth along the length of your slit, as though he lacks the manners of a decently raised man, tongue prodding at your entrance just to be mean. after a while, sukuna stops sucking and making out with your dirty, creamy cunt to nip at your titillating folds, taking one between rows of sharpened pearly whites and gently pulling it away from you.

at the abrupt feeling — you cry out hoarsely in a mix of bliss and surprise, taking a peek at the pink haired man between your spiked thighs with swimming vision. sukuna’s face is soaked, his angled jaw and cheeks and chin glazed in a layer of your slick as if he’s bitten into the ripest piece of fruit in adam and eve’s garden. the trail runs armously down and over his adam’s apple, coaxing your lover into eating you out properly this time.

finally, finally putting his filthy mouth to good use.

“fuck, i love the way y’drool for me down here. got so much to give, don’cha gorgeous?” sukuna mewls into you whilst kitten licking your slit, drinking you in as though you’re a glass of water in an oasis of lust and sex. he chuckles happily at your dreamy sigh and circling hips that grind down on his face, tapping three fingers against your sticky pleasure bud lovingly. annoyingly ( but not without appreciation from you), sukuna takes it a step further by sloppily kissing you there.

even with the time crunch, your pleasure takes priority. eating you out is like a reward for your man, it’s as though he was out on this earth by the gods purely to make you see stars. you feel lucky that he chose you out of all he could where he feels blessed to be the man you let touch you like this.

“mmph, ryo… always g’na be wet f’you. for my man. only you get me this fucked up,” you drawl with a silky voice, making a show of tweaking your own nipples from over your dress for your boyfriend. with the slipperiness of a snake, your hands slide down from between the valley of your heaving breasts, over your clothed tummy ( that twists with knots of ecstasy ) and into the slicked pink locks that tickle your inner thighs. messing up his perfect look, you grip sukuna’s roots and tug on them forcefully — coaxing him further into the debauched realm concealed by the skirts of your dress.

“princess…” ryomen lets out a pathetic, muffled groan — increasing the pace of the tip of his tongue as it lewdly flicks at your sex. “have you always had such a dirty mouth? what would yer daddy think?”

your head tips back at the new, gratifying sensation — ecstasy mounting in your lower tummy like bricks of a steady wall. “for as long as i’ve been yours,” comes your crazed and melodious laughter, only interrupted by pockets of squelching noises emitted from your squelching cunt. “oh baby…i don’t give a fuck about what my ‘daddy’ thinks. only you. let him stay mad — f-fuck! kuna!”

fuelled by the idea of pissing off your stuck up family, tattooed hands move to grip where your legs bend at the knee — pushing them back until your skirt rides up over your fleshy ass and your knees hit your shoulders and the soles of your shoes are able to lay flat against sukuna’s rippling back muscles. he hisses at the slight sting he feels from the pointed heel digging into his skin through his shirt, but it only fucks him up more. your pleasure is his pain, ryomen doesn’t give a fuck about anything else except for how good his girl feels.

somewhere amongst the sweat soaked sheets your phone lets out a shrill cry — signifying a call from someone in your spoiled family. without sukuna’s command, you scramble through the sea of stiff fabric peaks and reach for the device, hitting the answer button before checking the contact.

“h-hello?” you say in a poor attempt to speak clearly, stifling a deep moan. “speak of the devil and the devil shall appear…” comes your shallow whisper as you address your boyfriend. your chest grows sticky with perspiration beneath the bust of your dress — breathing uneven and heavy because of the way ryomen’s tongue wriggles past your tight little hole, squirming about against your lush walls to hit that special spot that has you screaming and seeing stars while on the phone to one of your relatives.

“excuse me, young lady?” it’s your father, much to sukuna’s dismay, his voice is irritatingly recognisable over the crackling of the line. of course he would find some way to unknowingly interrupt yourself and your loving, doting, disapproved boyfriend. “you were supposed to meet your sisters and i for dinner nearly forty minutes ago. where are you?”

sukuna’s agitation shows with each wet kiss he aggressively places between your swollen folds, nasty and miscalculated whilst designed to leave you a shaky mess.“o-oh! hi daddy,” you emphasise the word, voice rising an octave until its light an airy. your swimming, doe eyes lock with crimson ones that bore into the depths of your soul from below — taunting and testing the pink haired man’s patience. “‘m getting ready. don’t you want me to look pretty?”

the silky lilt to the tail end of your words causes sukuna to growl against your pulsating, temperate mound while his fingers yank you down onto his handsome face by your meaty thighs. eagerly, your hips canter down to match the stride of his tongue stroking your pretty pussy as though you’re riding his aching cock to your heart’s content. his tongue fills you up almost as good, warmly slipping and sliding over pleasure spots only he can reach.

he kitten licks and sucks and bites at your raw sex like a wild animal, loudly moaning into you with every roll of your cunt over his face. you taste like heaven, the flavour almost angelic on his tongue. sukuna feels like a sinner with a greedy craving for more and if you cared just a little bit, you might have been concerned about your father catching the lascivious sounds from between your thighs over the phone.

“i’m past the point of caring about how you present yourself at dinner,” your father says your name stern and low — talking to you as if you’re a child and not the woman you’d grown into. “your sisters are ravenous, they flew all the way into the country for this. don’t you think that they deserve an ounce of your time?”

losing yourself to the danger of it all, you chuck your phone to the side after putting it on loud speaker. your lover targets your prominent, adorable clit again, the tip of his tongue rolling it in large circles until you’re close to tearing the sheets from the bed. you try your best to contain the scream building up in your throat, but sukuna has never made it easy for you to keep quiet.

“mph…fuck!”

“young lady! watch your mouth!” your father scolds you, still blissfully unaware of the fact that you’re getting tongue fucked by the man he hates all the way up to cloud nine. “i bet that good for nothing scoundrel has put you up to this. i keep telling you, no daughter of mine should be with a man like that. where is he? he’s the one making you late.”

“actually, dad, sukuna’s been a good boy. sitting all handsome in those suits you like. i’m the one making…oohhh…m-making us late!” cruel carmine eyes flutter at your generous praise, lovesick as a sunburn like blush spreads over the bridge of sukuna’s nose from how desperate he is for you. if you tried your hardest to listen in over the wet sounds of your cunt being sucked on for dear life, along with the shaky delectable laments your lover lets out, you might be able to hear the sound of a zipper going down or the slickness of sukuna’s hand around his meaty shaft as he jerks himself off. no longer able to fight off his desire for you.

your stomach flips at the sight and the pleasure mounts with your impending high, dainty fingers beginning to tug and twist at sukuna’s blushing pink hair. his pain is your pleasure.

“you’ve lost your mind, i didn’t raise you to be like this.”

“you hardly…hardly raised me at all,” the words feel tacky in your mouth, as if it’s been stuffed with cotton that sucks up your saliva. it doesn’t help that your voice begins to waver too, reaching whistle tone notes.

ryomen sukuna doesn’t know what’s hotter, the fact that you’re so easily able to sass your rich, douchey father or the fact that you’re letting him give you head while on the phone. “shit,” he curses as low as possible, using one had to smooth the pad of his thumb over the slit in his cockhead — smearing the precum that beads there over the sensitive flesh. his kiss swollen lips part from your sweet sex for only a moment to taunt you. he remains connected to you by a single rope of clear elixir that leaks from your precious little hole. “god, gorgeous. you’re fuckin’ drenched…all from talkin’ back to daddy, huh?”

a lewd and sacchariferous mewl rumbles from deep in your chest as it rapidly rises and falls. it’s all too much for you to keep up with, you’re way too dizzy and it’s only made worse when sukuna bobs his head between your quivering legs so that his fat tongue drags through the entirety of your ravaged pussy lips.

“holyfuckingshit!” you shoot the man a glare once you remember where you are and who you’re on the phone to.

ryomen offers up a cocky smirk as his excuse before delving beneath your silken skirts once more, though it does nothing to mask how turned on he is — squeezing the base of his drippy shaft to stop himself from cumming too soon to the sight of you.

you try not to forget the presence of your father again, it would be hard to, since he’s insistent on betraying you down the phone. “speak back to me again and i’m cutting you off. starting with cancelling the card you and your mangy boyfriend live off of.”

“do it, i dare you.” you somehow manage to snap back, jolting at the sensation of sukuna’s razor sharp teeth grazing your clit. he hisses deliciously against your sex as your heels cut pretty crescent moons into his back. “i-i wonder what mom would have to say about it if you…if you did!”

silence echoes down the line, broken by small pockets of your boyfriend slurping on your folds like a man starved. slurps that you’re just so blessed to be able to hear. you should feel ashamed instead of hungry, doing nothing to tame the greedy beast inside you that craves more and more of sukuna’s attention on you. you must have lost your mind, for letting him eat you out so brazenly while you converse with your father on the phone. it’s so depraved, so dirty and yet you wouldn’t give this… give sukuna up for the world.

you love him more than anything. love how he treats you like you’re the strongest person he knows whilst handling you as though you’re made of glass. you love how he gets off to you, dribbling thick white from the tip of his cock because you make him a mess enough to need to jerk off. you love how he pleasures you, his baritone laments and simpers muffled against your cunt sending fireworks up your spine and setting them off at your tailbone where your mounting pleasure lies.

you love ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori, and no amount of scolding from your father will ever change that.

“just…just be here within the hour. please.” your father requests quietly.

“see you soon, daddy,” you hang up the phone faster than a lightning strike, all of your composure flying out of the window with the last dial tone. “ryo, fuck! i’m close… gonna cum. please, hurry!”

“god you’re such a fuckin’ menace, hah, pretty girl?” your pink haired lover quips airily, his jaw tight from flicking his tongue against your sex in sync with his fist flicking around his throbbing dick, slinging precum about the place. he’s amused and love sick all at once, a feeling that was once foreign to ryomen before he met you. “gotcha so turned on by talking back to your dad, yeah? all while i ate this pretty fuckin’ pussy out… so nasty,” only sukuna could make you feel this loved while degrading you, the only man who’s ever been able to do so. none of them could come close to knowing your body like he does, the way you twitch when you’re close and start to pout like a spoilt brat when you’re frustrated from waiting for your orgasm.

sukuna takes the edge off by lifting a tattooed arm and slapping his hand down on the entirety of your cut — letting out a haughty moan at the sight of glistening droplets of arousal flying about the place while your heels drag down his back with delightful pain. you cry out, but your boyfriend’s mouth is back on you in seconds — soothing your poor pussy. “‘m so lucky to have you though, my nasty fuckin’ princess,” he mewls into you, using his tongue to bully your g-spot over and over and over while he fists his precum glazed cock into oblivion. “gonna make you cum, gorgeous girl. let you make a mess in my mouth, you want that?”

“m-more than anything, ryo!” you wail, fighting back tears as you spew a fresh wave of your sweet nectar from your pathetic hole. you do have a dinner to get to after all, you should only be crying from one place. your cunt. the sound of said squelching cunt and your dulcet whines make sukuna’s balls twitch with a load he would only dedicate to you. “i love you, love you s’much…love you,”

the delirium starts to catch up with you, becoming too much to bare as you babble nonsense into the sex tainted air. you can’t hold back, some of your release already beginning to stream out of you. “‘m gonna cum, ryo…cum with me, please!” you squeal in warning, mere seconds before your body succumbs to sukuna’s eager tongue and the wrath of your orgasm.

“love you too, s’much,” your glittery heels knock behind his sweaty mass of pink hair, cutting into his back as he walks you through it all. “f-fuck baby, that’s it,” he goads as you gush into his mouth like a tidal wave. you have so much to give, release trickling into his mouth, painting his cheeks and sliding down his adam’s apple in a viscous current. sukuna is swept away by the arousal in the air, drinking you in as he pumps his cock harshly and in tune with the way you weakly hump at his face through the aftershocks.

pulling his sticky mouth away from your equally sticky sex, sukuna replaces his tongue with three of his fingers to your clit — coaxing you through the rest of your high as he draws random shapes on the puffy nub. “keep that orgasm goin’ for me, pretty princess, give it to me…give it t’me while i fill you up,” he rambles brainlessly, abruptly standing up as he fists his cock pulled out from the zipper of his dress pants — barely fighting back his own orgasm. “spread those fuckin’ legs, wanna cum inside.”

“ryo!”

“ahh, fuckin’…fuuuck!” in one swift move, your boyfriend slips his sensitive and bulbous cockhead past your quivering, orgasming entrance — shallowly thrusting into your tight heat as you spasm around him, before he’s thrown off the edge into his own high. “c-cummin’…” hot sticky ropes of white seed flood your womb, which sukuna keeps plugged into you as he folds you over — chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. your heels clink at the dip in his waist behind his back. you’re still cumming as languid thrusts smear your boyfriend’s cum against your rippling walls, but you’re content, breathing beginning to even out as you both come down from cloud nine.

still releasing in small spurts, ryomen slowly pulls out of you with soft kisses pressed to the side of your face. “sorry, didn’t wanna fuck up my pants before dinner,” he chuckles over the warm static spreading over your happy little brain.

you offer him your own dopey laughter, remaining sprawled out underneath your hunk of a man. “so you decide to just jizz inside of me? you’re a class act ryo. what about my dress?”

“first of all, you don’t like it when shit goes to waste ‘n second off all, i made damn sure that it stuck. your dress is fine, brat.” a chaste kiss is pressed to your nose as sukuna helps you sit up, double checking for any mess he might have left between your shaky legs. “let me clean you up, don’t want your dad findin’ out what we were really up to all this time.”

“pretty sure he already knows,” you shrug, rolling your ankles as you lean down to fix a strap on your heel. “you’re a messy eater, ryo.”

but before you can fix your shoe back into place, ryomen sukuna is already on it — adjusting the strap to sit comfortably on your leg before he stands again and retreats to the bathroom for a warm cloth to clean you up with.

you watch with a smirk as he goes, admiring all of the little red marks on his shoulder blades you’ve left on him with your shoes. “then i guess i’ll have to use some fuckin’ table manners at dinner,” he remarks childishly. “but i can’t help how delicious you look in those heels, gorgeous.”

and it’s true, you’re the only meal sukuna could ever want — especially when you leave your claim on him with high heels like that.

2K notes · View notes

warnersister · 6 months ago

Text

How the Peaky boys would react to “you wearing a sundress” -> headcannon

(NSFW) but more implied then truly written, but still read at your own risk

Tommy🪖

🪖it was a hot day, and you were rummaging through your clothing chest to try find something suitable to wear to bear the heat outside.

🪖Tommy had headed out early, business to attend to with Alfie Solomons.

🪖he hadn’t meant to wake you, trying to sneak around the bedroom to get dressed and get out of the house: especially after a… long night

🪖but still, you stirred and whined “Tom?” You breathe with a rasped voice “s’alright, back to sleep darling” he instructed but you endured, sitting up and stretching your arms high above your head and Thomas watched as the covers fell to reveal your bare torso and it took all his self control to stop salivating.

🪖you climbed out of bed and threw the slip dress over your head, heading towards your husband who was buttoning his shirt in the mirror

🪖you turned him towards you and swatted his hands away, and he allowed you to finish buttoning his shirt for him, finishing the top button and pulling the collar down to kiss him.

🪖”Solomons is coming by today” Thomas huffed and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes “long meeting?” You ask and he shakes his head “shouldn’t be” you nod “d’you want me to come by later? Bring you some lunch?” You ask and he connects his eyes with yours “y’know y’worry me when you stay in there all day” you continue and he offers a small smile. “I’ll take that as a yes” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth and tapping his chest, ushering him out of the door. “Go on, shoo.”

🪖he smirked and grabbed his cap on the way out, whistling as he went

🪖so there you were, already sweeting with mere silk on your body

🪖you saw a dress with the tags still on, yellow and billowing at the bottom: sundress

🪖you looked it over one before deciding it was the perfect choice for today’s endeavours.

🪖you’d nipped out to the market first, collecting some supplies to make him some soup or whatever you could conjure up.

🪖you even grabbed some sunflowers too; having bought him a vase for his office, thinking it needed some life brought into it, given the volume of lives that were lost in that room.

🪖later in the day you headed to Tommy’s office, assuming that his meeting must be done by now and to feed him.

🪖you’d headed to the Garrison, greeting Harry and having a few wandering eyes following you as you approached the Blinder’s designated room, thinking nothing of it as you turned the door knob.

🪖Tommy couldn’t be mad at your intrusion for the sheer sight of you. His pupils blew out of his head as he looked you over, he’d never seen this dress before. Yet his jaw gritted at the way Alfred fucking Solomons had the same reaction.

🪖”oh I’m so sorry gentleman” you said, pivoting to leave “no no, sweetheart. Alfie was just leaving. Weren’t you?” Tommy asked and Alfie creased his brows but with the eyes his business partner was giving him told him everything he needed to know. “Yeah yeah, just leaving Tom”

🪖Alfie stood, to leave and smiled at you “lovely to see you, poppet” Alfie said, you’d always gotten along with him; you hugged him as he welcomed it, and he grinned at you “you look gorgeous you, yeah? Lovely new dress. Fabulous it is” “fuck off Alfie” “yeah yeah I’m going, bye love”

🪖Tommy looked you over as the door clicked shut with tight lips. “I’m sorry Tom I didn’t think he’d still be here-” “have you had that on all day?” He cuts you off and you raise your brows “the dress?” “Mhm” “oh yeah, found it earlier. Never worn it.” You say, spinning to give him a giddy look at it.

🪖Tommy couldn’t help but smile “c’m ere.” He beckons you over and you approach him “I brought you some lunch-” you begin “nah, got all I need to eat right here” he says and grabs your hips, prompting you to discard your basket on his desk.

🪖he sits back in his seat; opening his legs to pull you to stand between them. He gently takes the fabric between his fingers, then drags his hands so slowly up to your torso, not looking at your face. You fidget anxiously, his hands dragging back down to the hem of the dress.

🪖”dangerous wearing this, love” he says, dipping his hands under the dress to rest on your upper thighs, finally looking at you. You smile. He realises how easily the fabric is lifted, pushing you back to sit on his desk “can’t do this to y’old Tom and expect to get away with it” he says, with a tut, unzipping his trousers and removing his suspenders as he pushes your underwear to the side.

🪖”I’m buying you more o’ these.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie was sat reading the newspaper in his armchair, Cyril asleep beside him when you came into the room.

🧸”so, what do you think?” You asked and Alfie looked up but had to do a double take. A white sundress with frilled straps and tight torso. “Blimey poppet, what’s this then?” He asked, dropping his glasses to the end of his nose to get a better look at you.

🧸”a sundress Alf!” You say, “y’bought it last year, remember?” “Thought I’d remember buying something like this.” He says, standing to his feet, moving to take your hand in his own “give us a spin then darling” he says, turning you as the fabric billowed as you went only for your gorgeous beaming face to return to him.

🧸”now this is fucking fabulous ain’t it darlin’, fucking fabulous. Bloody love it. Suits you nicely” he mumbles as you smile “but y’can’t wear it” he says and your face drops “y’what?” You asks, brows furrowing. “Y’aint givin y’old man heart palpitations and expecting me to let y’out of the house, flower. Not like this” he says sternly, wagging an accusatory finger at you.

🧸”but we’re got to go to the market-” you protest “nah, we ain’t” he says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you yelp. He flips the rim of your skirt up so he gets a great view of your ass, smacking it lightly “Alfie!”

🧸”don’t think I won’t shag y’on these stairs, treacle, now let me get up the fucking stairs, yeah?”

🧸then later in the day when you’d finally manage to coax him off of you and out of the house to the market, there was a hand permanently on your waist. And then at some point you bent over to smell some flowers and Alfie couldn’t help but lean his hips into yours. You yelped “Alfie!” You hissed. “C‘mon love I can’t cope.” He grunts, impatiently prompting the rest of the shopping to go by faster, flipping the skirt of the dress up again when he finally got back to the car.

Arthur🍺

🍺so. Fucking. Antsy.

🍺can’t keep his fucking hands off of you.

🍺left early, didn’t he? Ended up waking you up; banging all the doors shut and all that as he clambered out of the house.

🍺you decided that was your wake up call regardless, knowing full well that if he’d have left in a state such as the one he was in last night then it wasn’t good business. Meaning it’d perk him up for you to visit him and calm down his anger during the day, even if it was only a chat to rectify his emotions.

🍺you’d gotten yourself dressed without a second thought, inly to do a double take and head right back into the house when you felt the sweltering temperatures outside the from door.

🍺you’d rummage through your clothing chest, struggling to find anything suitable for such an occasion, used to the drizzly cool downpour of the indefinite English winter.

🍺then you spotted it; the sundress

🍺Arthur had gone mad for it last year, and it was forgotten about at around Christmas time when it was way too cold for attire like that, but now was the perfect opportunity to wind him up again.

🍺and you were in a teasing mood after the way he’d slammed the front door shut and made a crack in the mahogany.

🍺so you’d slipped it on, it was a lovely shade of pink; baby pink to be exact. Arthur loved that colour on you, made him forget all his troubles and appreciate his woman for a while - especially when he couldn’t get his hands off you. So, giving yourself a once over you spritzed a bit of the expensive perfume Thomas had kindly gifted you the Christmas prior, the one you knew Arthur liked the smell of, and headed out the door.

🍺you decided to stop by the bakery on the way to his office, the bakery with the young cashier who had a large crush on you who Arthur absolutely despised, and you knew it’d get him even more rilled up knowing full well that you’d been in that dress, had leant over the counter while the young lad stumbled over his words and explained what was in every one of them, let you sample the one that the lad knew full well was your favourite, and gave you it on the house with a tip on the hat and a kiss on the hand.

🍺yeah this was turning out to be a pretty good day.

🍺so you waltzed through the building, little spring in your step as you greeted all the turning heads who watched you as you walked.

🍺you knocked on his door “fuck off” and you opened it “sorry Arth, thought you’d want some company” you say in the shyest voice you could manage to muster. His demeanour immediately changed when he heard your voice, his posture settled but when he looked at you his mouth ran dry.

🍺”brought you a bun” you say, taking it out of the bag you’d brought and knew full well he looked at the branding on the paper packaging. His jaw went slack. “Fuck me love, y’tryna kill me?” He asked, taking his cap off his head and shooting his head beneath it. “What do you mean, darling?” You asked, feigning innocence, heading to his desk as you placed the treat in front of him. “You know fucking damn well what. That bastard dress is back again” he says, grabbing your waist with calloused hands to bring you closer to him and he looked you over.

🍺”wearing the nice perfume too, ain’t ya love?” He asked meekly and you nodded “warm day and I couldn’t find anything else. Saw how quickly you’d left his morning so I thought I’d bring you something to eat” you say with a small, innocent smile as you stroked his cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes unwillingly shifting from you to the pastry on his desk.

🍺”y’ve been to that fucking bakery, ain’t ya?” He asked, gritting his teeth “well it’s your favourite-” “and that little bastard was serving wasn’t he?” He asked again, eyes narrowing “who? Daniel-” “yes fucking Daniel that little cock rocket who thinks he can get in your knickers that’s who” he seethed.

🍺then it dawned on him. “And he saw you in this fucking thing” he growled, bunching the pink material in his hands as he huffed “m’sorry Arth. Didn’t think” you reply. Liar. “Nah I think you knew. Knew to tease y’old Arthur didn’t you?” He asked, thumb drawing small circles into your waist. You replied with a small smile “I knew it! Y’little minx!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

🍺”well!“You exclaim, taking his hands and prying them from your waist as his face dropped “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your pasty. Love you.” You say, turning to make your leave and he almost growled.

🍺”where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asked, standing up after you as you walked back through his door, failing to suppress your smirk. He pretty much sprinted after you, grabbing you roughly and throwing you over his shoulder to turn right back around and into his office. “Got all I want to eat right fucking ‘ere. You ain’t leaving this office in this bastard dress” he promises, slamming the office door behind the two of you.

John🥃

🥃bold of you to think you’re even leaving the house with it on.

🥃he’s not like his brothers, he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye unless Tommy was literally at the door screaming for him, and even then he was quick to reassure you before he sprinted out the house.

🥃no he liked to wake up with you, especially now there were too many kids to count running around the house.

🥃he liked to wake you up with little kisses, grab you at the waist and pull you back into bed if you tried to leave, brush his teeth beside you in the bathroom, help get the kids ready, pick your outfit, and let you tie his tie which usually took a good half hour between all the songs he’d sneak in.

🥃gave him a sense of homeliness.

🥃a bit of normality.

🥃today was no different, he’d woke you up with little kisses, rolling you to sit on top of him, legs either side of his hips as he repetitively kissed you as you giggled and tried to rise for a breath.

🥃”mammy I’m hungry!” A voice came from the doorway and you saw your agitated son pawing at his pyjamas as he looked at you desperately. “Fucking kid interrupting. About to fu-” John mumbled quietly before you were placing a hand over his mouth with wide, warning eyes. He smirked at you. “Alright mate, I’ll come, leave your poor mammy alone” John answered, finally managing to pry your hand away. “Thanks daddy” he says, giddily, as John reluctantly placed you back in bed and rolled out, chucking a shirt on and turning back to you. “Don’t move” he says, wagging a jokingly warning finger at you and you laugh “yes sir” you salute and he smirk.

🥃”right c’mon mate.” John says, grabbing your son and slinging him onto a piggy back to go grab him something to munch on.

🥃you practically jumped out of bed to go grab the new sundress that you bought last week, you hadn’t shown John yet and decided that today was the day you were going to wear it, especially now you had the quick couple of minutes of peace alone.

🥃”right, little’uns eating his breakf- fuck me” you spun around to look at your husband and smiled “what d’y think?” You ask, “g’i us a twirl” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. You did as he said and pivoted around, showing how the dress spun with you.

🥃”it’s a sundress” you say “I can see that flower” he replies, walking up to you to have a good feel of the fabric, gliding his hands from your upper back to your waist as he pulls you into him “y’can’t wear tha’.” He says simply and you giggle “why’s tha Johnny?” You ask and he raises his brows “that little name tells me you know goddamn why gorgeous.” He says “y’cannea wear it cause I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of ya.” He says, quickly turning to slam the door shut before picking you up and dropping you on the bed, climbing on top of you and leaning in to kiss you hungrily.

🥃you move to take the dress of and he shakes his head “now, now whole point of this dress is that it’s easy access now, ain’t it?” He hums “leave it on I’ll work around don’t you worry ‘bout me.” He says quickly with his tongue protruding to lick his dry lips as he looks you over.

🥃he dips his head under the hem of the dress and eats you like a man starved. “Mammy! Daddy we’re ‘ungry!” You hear from beyond the door and John stops his movement to come back up for air and clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds coming out of it. John huffs, frustrated but clears his throat. “Harriet darlin’ can you reach the milk?” He asks after a minute “I can da’.” Her little voice replies “Toby can you reach the cereal?” “Uh-huh” the other retorts. “Great and Charlie? Bowls and spoons?” “Yeah I know where they are daddy!” The little one says “perfect. Harriet want you to get the milk, the big ‘un I’m not having you using up the fancy shit your mam bought from Camden. Y’here me?” He asks “yeah dad” “Toby, grab the cereal and Charlie get the bowls and lot.” He instructs “okay!” The collective voices come out. “Hannah need you to make sure it’s all gone to plan, alright hon?” He asks “sure thing” then you hear the patter of feel heading down the stairs

🥃”and I swear to god if any of you little shits make a mess y’ll all be up for the fuckin’ high jump!” He announces loudly, before quieting down and turning back to you “where were we?”

🥃and then when you’d finally managed to pry him off of you, he begrudgingly let you wear it “don’t forget we’re going to Alice’s garden party.” You say “what?” He asks, noticing how you’ve dressed all the kids appropriately “y’ain’t going looking like that flower” he says “I sure am. Come in you lot! In the car!” You say, ushering him out the door

🥃he managed to sneak you away one or two times at the party.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie’s just as bad as John

🥊cannot keep his hands off of you

🥊”’m takin’ y’ to Bonnie Gold’s fight.” Your brother said walking into the room “wear summot nice, that dress I bought you” “why?” “Just get dressed” you nodded at Tommy, not opposed to visiting Bonnie Gold any day.

🥊”is his sister coming?” Bonnie asked his dad hopefully and the man smirked “why?” “J’st wonderin’.” “Yeah well keep y’eyes on the prize” Aberama told him “she is the fuckin’ prize” “try keep y’hands off of ‘er until the fights over, yeah?” He asked and him and Bonnie just shared a knowing smirk.

🥊you put on the sundress Tommy had bought you the other week, deciding it was a nice enough day to have a breeze against your skin, plus you had a pair of lovely shoes to match.

🥊so you rocked up downstairs, dress on and ready to go and Tommy just gave you a once over “poor lads gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack” John said, laughing “shut up John” you reply, as he opened the door to the car for you, offering his hand to help you up. “You look nice” Arthur commented with a raised brow “damn fucker better win this fight”

🥊”Bonnie” Thomas nodded as he entered the building, followed by his brothers, you at the back with John who’d strung an arm over your shoulder. “Mr Shelby” he nodded at him, but was clearly distracted. “Don’t you worry, Bonnie. She’s right ‘ere.” Tommy says, moving out the way for John and you to come into his view. “Hiya, Bon.” You smile “hiya flower” he manages to muster.

🥊yet, his breath had caught in his throat at the sheer sight of you. Your gorgeous face, hair done up nicely, and a fucking milkmaid dress. Some lovely sundress that other men didn’t deserve to see. Bonnie’s jaw clenched.

🥊”right, we’ll leave the two of you for a minute. Aberama, let’s chat” Thomas said, leading the others away “if he tries anything come and fuckin’ find me.” John said, looking Bonnie over once with narrowed eyes before strutting off after the others.

🥊Bonnie smirked looking at you “y’look lovely” he said quietly, approaching you “not too bad y’self Bon” you giggle as his hands wrap around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. “This fuckin’ dress. Y’do it on purpose?” He asks and you crease your brows “do what?” You hum and he sighs “I guess you’re not beautiful on purpose are you darlin’?” He grins, grabbing your hand to drag you into his changing room and lock the door behind you.

🥊he picks you up and you squeal with a laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you against the door. He slips his hands under the hem of the skirt and holds your thighs gently.

🥊”this fucking dress” he says, chuffed that he managed to slip his hands all the way up to settle on your waist and you just smiled at him. You could feel him toying with the waistband of your panties and you laugh “Bon we’ve only got ten minutes!” You giggle and he sighs “guess we’ve got to be quick then, ay sugar?” He asks, undoing his trousers and just merely pushing your panties aside.

🥊you lean your head into the curve of his neck, muffling the sounds erupting from your mouth and muffling them with his bear skin and he slid in and out of you. “God ‘m so fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He groaned “y’know what this makes me think of?” He asks and you shake your head in question against him. “Makes me think of a mammy. What a mammy should wear when she’s pregnant ‘nd can’t get into nothin’ else.” He mumbles. “This wha’ya were tryna do t’me?” He asks “tryna get me to make y’a mammy? Cause it’s working darlin’. So well.” You whine at his remark.

🥊and when you both finish you try to pull up from his shoulder but he holds you firmly in place “Nuh uh. You dress like a mammy y’become one” he says and you can’t help but smile at his statement. Eventually, he unwraps you from his waist and lets you down onto shaky legs. A knock comes at the door “five minutes, son. Get your hands wrapped” you hear Aberama say to him followed by leaving footsteps. You smile up at him “c’mon I’ll wrap your hands”

🥊you pull him to where the wrap is, sitting him down on the bench and standing between his legs as you work on protecting his hands.

🥊He was being extremely difficult

🥊trying to wrap a man’s hands when all he wants to do is have them under your dress is an extremely difficult task as he kept groping at your skin rather than letting you work. “D’ya want your hands wrapping or not?” You ask with a huff and he smirks “would rather be doing somethin’ else.” He shrugs, but lets you finish. And when you do he pulls you into a tight hug, leaning against the fabric where your breasts were constricted.

🥊”Bonnie, c’mon lad it’s time” you heard your brother say from beyond the door, knocking on it thrice (sausage roll video lol)

🥊Bonnie groaned from under your dress (you didn’t know when he’d managed to snake his way back under there) but you grabbed his hand and yanked him from his seated position to standing; pulling him towards the door and unlocking it to take him to the ring.

🥊Bonnie pulled the hand that was dragging him, sending you flying into his chest with a force that nearly winded you as he gave you one last kiss. “Bonnie! Go!” You giggled, pushing him away and towards the ring, taking a stand beside your brothers as the match began.

🥊The rounds went by painfully slow for Bonnie; regardless of the fact that he was winning - but in reality it was only a good few minutes of pure fighting.

🥊then when the match was finished, he waltzed over to the Shelby family like he owned the place and offered a blood-filled grin as it dripped down his chin.

🥊”well done Bonnie lad.” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette. “Cheers Tommy.” He replied, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “Didn’t y’get some money f’this match?” John asked, lighting his own. “Nah he’s got his own trophy right over there” Tommy replied, nodding at you as they all turned to see you chatting with Bonnie’s father.

🥊”just do us a favour” Thomas told him and Bonnie immediately nodded “marry her.” “Don’t have to tell me twice, mr Shelby.” Bonnie told him with a chuckle, heading to grab you to resume your activities.

Isaiah♟️

♟️haha.

♟️again, bold of you to assume that you’re getting fucking anywhere with that thing on.

♟️feel like it’d be a black sundress, one with frills on the sleeves.

♟️you’d gone for a walk with Finn, Tommy having told you both to fuck off for a while while they dealt with some deeper business; so a stroll around seemed to be the choice at hand.

♟️eventually though, Finn had gotten distracted by a sign you’d read that said ‘pretty women here shilling for a good time’ and left you to fend for yourself, opting not to follow your twin into the whore house, yet you weren’t in your own company for long, feeling a cap placed on your head and an arm around your shoulders.

♟️“Hey pretty, what’re you doing all alone?” Isaiah asked, as he feel into step with you, but came to a sudden halt almost lurching you back. “And who let you wear that?” His eyebrows raised as he looked you over. “Why what’s wrong with it?” You asked “nothin’ nothin’. J’st don’t understand why it’s not on my bedroom floor” you smacked his chest and giggled “Isaiah!”

♟️”y’shouldnt have been let out wearing this, love” he said, backing you against the wall of one of the nearby buildings. “Well I was with Finn” you reason “hmm? And where is Finn now?” He asks, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.

♟️”in some whore house” you mumble in reply. He scoffs “some brother”. Then he starts again “why don’t we turn my house into a whore house and get that dress off you and into my room?” He suggests and you roll your eyes “such a way with words”

♟️”y’look fuckin’ insatiable” he says, leaning down to kiss that sensitive spot on the crevasse of your neck. “Dunno how I manage to keep my hand off you most of the time, doll” he shrugs “and in this? Fuck y’not gonna be walking anytime soon”

♟️you laugh at him “you wish peaky junior, now I was enjoying a lovely walk before you came along.” You hum, pushing him back by the chest and he scoffs “I’m a Shelby I can fend for myself” you shrug “not while I make you a Jesus.” He retorts, smirking like he knew he’d won. “Whatever, Isaiah” you say, calmly walking away

♟️he laughs loudly, running after you “c’mon Mrs Jesus we’ve business to attend to!” He announces, swiftly placing a hand onto your chest and pressing you back against the wall, lifting you up and placing hungry hands under the hem of your dress “Isaiah!” You scold, “not here!” He rolls his eyes “fine”

♟️and he places and arm under your knees and one to support your head as he carries you bridal-style back to his house. You clutch at his suit jacket and squeal at his action, holding on for dear life until you got to his home.

♟️did not wait until you got to the bedroom

♟️defo had his way with you against the door once it’d been firmly slammed shut and locked

♟️and on the sofa

♟️and the kitchen table

♟️and then bedroom

♟️(you never took the dress off)

♟️and eventually when you’d decided Tommy was probably done with his important business you managed to coax a begrudging Isaiah to the Garrison with you, who’d initially planned to keep you up all night with him but instead you were heading to a pub instead of his bed; which you’d end up in later anyways

♟️”oh she’s alive!” Arthur said sarcastically as you join them, noticing your presence and subsequently you noticed Finn’s. “How long did you last? Two minutes?” You asked and he scoffed “fuck off” “and of course I’m alive, I’m fine. It was Finn who left me alone!” You say, blame bombing your twin who looked at you with evil eyes.

♟️then Isaiah popped his head round “plus I wasn’t alone I was with Isaiah” you say matter-of-factly and Finn grits his jaw “what’ve I said about staying away from my fucking sister you fucking scrubber” Finn growls, landing a pent-up punch to Isaiah’s jaw who stumbled back slightly. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout fucking her did ya?” He retorted and then he was running for the hills with three brothers sprinting after him.

♟️”men.” Polly said with a roll of her eyes

Michael🎱

🎱he wouldn’t be here nor there

🎱loved how it looks on you

🎱but hates the fact that other men see you wearing it.

🎱he makes heart eyes when he sees you in it, believing it to be the typical dress of a wife and mother; so it pretty much feeds into his delusions.

🎱the only time it saw the light of day in public would’ve definitely been when he’d been courting you. When he’d been invited to some garden party of a rich aristocracy down southwards.

🎱what Tommy failed to mention was that the Capitalist had a daughter a few months younger than Michael, of whom was extremely well spoken, and ridiculously pretty.

🎱he’d obviously weaselled his way over to you and the rest was history.

🎱and of course, history tends to repeat itself.

🎱again, you were heading to a garden party: Shelby arranged this time around, to show your initial family that the marriage between yourself and Michael was going well and therefore Tommy’s expansion to a more wealthier estate was worth the investment.

🎱”I’ll meet you there darling, business to take care of.” Michael had told you that morning while adjusting his collar, allowing you to help him straighten the tie you had wrapped around his neck. “Okay” you hummed, he always loved how you’d never pried.

🎱in reality he was off to see a man about a dog, in other terms; kill a man. Kill a man who’d been eyeing you up like a fucking slice of meat the evening prior. Eyeing you like he wanted to eat you like a man starved, as if your husband didn’t have a firm arm wrapped around your waist and oversized number of carats around your finger.

🎱even had the nerve to try talk to you, had groped at your ass and Michael covered your eyes with one hand while he clocked the bloke around the jaw with the other.

🎱never wanted a woman to see him fight, especially his woman.

🎱so he went about killing the man the next day; well he’s probably dead by now. He took his cap calmly to the man, beneath that bridge by the canal, castrated then blinded the man and left him struggling on the ground, having a couple of lesser known Peaky men surveying the area for the rest of the day to make sure no aid was to come to him, and when his struggling stopped they were to sort his body out.

🎱you made your way to the garden party independently, having worn a darling sundress; white and pristine and freshly pressed, accompanied by a sun hat and some subtle shoes; conservative enough for Michael not to complain that you looked like a whore, but skin-showing enough not to overheat in this sweltering weather.

🎱you were there before Michael, embraced by John and given a kiss on the temple by an already tipsy Arthur who was in that sort of mood where a gent gets rather happy when squidgy, it was a fine line with Arthur.. happy to angered

🎱but you entertained him, saying your hellos and greeting the rest of the family you’d married into, patiently waiting for Michael’s attendance.

🎱he was there soon thereafter.

🎱and he was fucking seething.

🎱he took one look at you as his mouth ran dry, grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the garden getting countless opposing arguments from the likes of Ada and John questioning what he was doing

🎱but nothing could soften the red he saw.

🎱how dare you wear that dress?

🎱practically threw you into the car, you’d never seen him this upset, let alone have it take it out on you; his loving, doting housewife of whom he trophied for every mistake he made, initially he thought you were his punishment from god.. sent an angel for a devil to take care of. But he’d gotten the hang of switching into a loving husband the minute he returned home

🎱but tonight was different

🎱”Michael, darlin-” “how dare you?” He seethed and you silenced yourself “pardon?” “How many fucking times have I told you you’re not wearing this fucking dress in public, hmm? And you wear it around my fucking horny cousin?” He growls and you don’t know how to reply “he looks at you like you’re a fucking piece of meet, sweets.” He tells you, finally looking at you

🎱”undressing you with his eyes. Watched him myself.” “John has a wife-” “John hires prostitutes. Y’think he’d be a better husband?” He asks, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel harder “no-” “no. Cause I’ve never hired a fuckin’ prostitute since we’ve been together, and I work hard for you, y’know. Got no where to take my anger out cause I love you so much.” He says and despite the harshness of his words your heart swells.

🎱”killed a man for you and I show up to you actin’ like a fuckin’ whore?” Your mouth opened agape and he chuckled darkly “think I didn’t kill that bloke? Think I’d leave him safe? Nah, not with my missus I wouldn’t” he confirms, placing a hand on your leg as he speeds back home.

🎱he stops the car and doesn’t move for a minute.

🎱”listen to me very carefully, flower. I’m going to change my bloody shirt, and you’re gonna go upstairs, lay on the bed and wait for me. Yeah?” He asks “yeah o’course Michael.” You say as you get out the car

🎱”and leave that fuckin’ dress on!” You hear called behind you.

Finn🎞️

🎞️Finn is just horny 25/8 icl.

🎞️doesn’t know what does it for him about that dress, but it does something.

🎞️it was a hot day, and the family was in some beer garden, Arthur already off his head drunk and the brothers just enjoying one another’s company after successfully ridding the threat of a rival family, the head now dead and the rest cowering to surrender.

🎞️Tommy told Finn to bring his lady friend, the one who worked at the bookshop along, decided it was time to meet the family, and so he did.

🎞️waltzed into your little hole in the wall, grinning as you peered your head around to see the customer who’d caused the door’s bell to chime, and you broke out into a mighty smile just as he did, him opening his arms for you to rush over and into a bone crushing hug.

🎞️even shared a sweet kiss as he said a gentle “hello pretty”

🎞️he noticed the dress you were wearing was new, initially not noticing it as he was too caught up in admiring you. “What’s this? Is it new?” He asked, taking your hand to spin you around. “It is” you grin, allowing the white flowing material to spin as he made you “it’s lovely” he says, noticing something about it but he didn’t know quite what.

🎞️”why are you here?” You hum with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you leant your chin against his dress “aren’t I allowed to say hello to my favourite girl?” He asks with a smirk “yes but I can tell there’s something. A look in your eyes.” You say and he sighs, defeated “party at the Garrison” he says “when?” You ask “right now” he says and you laugh “Finn I can’t just shut shop at 12 oclock on Thursday!” You say, as he reaches into his pocket, throwing ten whole pounds onto the counter “Finn! Where did you get that much money?” You gasp “don’t worry bout it. Enough for you to close?” He asks and you scoff “I can’t accept ten whole pounds, Finn” you tell him “sure you can cause I’m not having it back” he shrugs, pulling your hand to coax you out the door “okay fine!” You surrender as you relent, allowing Finn to pull you out the door and in turn, you lock your door behind you.

🎞️then when you showed to the party, you were greeted by tipsy cheers and hellos as Finn introduced you to his family, Polly and Ada immediately dragging you away to have a separate conversation as they question you about everything to which you giddily go along with.

🎞️John came to stand with Finn, where he was stood still; drink in hand as he watched you interact with his family. “What’s up, Finn?” He asked, nudging him with his elbow and Finn finally broke out of his trace to smile at his brother. “Nothin’.” He shrugged. “Can’t be about your missus, y’head over heels for her.” John said, and Finn immediately raised his brows in panic “no! no! Nothin’ like tha.” Finn said, shaking his head. “Then what is it?” John asked, looking at you, trying to figure his younger sibling out.

🎞️”dunno. It’s summot about that dress” Finn said, eyes raking over you as he tried to figure out what it was and his brother chuckles “easy access, mate.” John said and Finn creased his brows “y’what?” “Sundresses mate, fuckin’ kill me. Easy access innit? Don’t have to even take the dress off” John told him matter-of-factly, necking the rest of his beer in one. Finn’s eyes darkened and John couldn’t hold in his laugh at the realisation that Finn had settled that that was what it was.

🎞️John claps him on the back “if y’wanna sneak off I’ll cover” he said, but by the end of the sentence Finn had already started after you “cheers, mate!” He said to John “sorry, stealing her” he said to Polly and Ada against their judgement, dragging you away from the conversation and into the Peaky office inside the Garrison.

🎞️you giggle at his actions as he locked the dork “what y’doin sill?” You ask “party’s outside!” You say, as he picks you up and holds you against the door, dropping his hands for them to head under the hem of your skirt “right, ‘nd I’ve just figured out that this dress is driving me fuckin’ crazy” he says “you’re fuckin’ insatiable” he says “d’you even know what that means?” You ask and he shrugs “find me a dictionary later or summot.” He says

🎞️”what’s up with the dress” you ask, as he undoes his trousers “easy access innit?”

Aberama🌞

🌞Aberama is a cultured bloke

🌞by that I mean he’s had many a trips around the sun, and in that time good women are few and far between in his opinion

🌞so regardless of you being substantially his younger, he was positive that you were the woman for him and therefore he had to have you.

🌞recently you’d moved into his vardo with him, having left the urban life behind.

🌞he’d woken up one morning to the sun blaring at him through the unclad opening of the vardo, stretching his arms above his head in a mighty yawn, almost certain it was almost midday by this point; especially after the long trek they’d had to get to this sight the night prior.

🌞he reached his arm over, but the spot in the bed was cold and empty, a lone spot where you should’ve been laid. He creased his brows, shooting up in bed to a sitting potion, realising that you were no longer in the vardo at all.

🌞he groaned. Damn you and your early rising tendencies.

🌞he rubbed his eyes and pulled on a pair of undershorts, smirking at the remembrance of the night prior once you’d arrived. He popped his head out of the doorway, looking left and right but curiously not being able to find any trace of you.

🌞he climbed down the steps and placed his hands on his hips, walking around the side of the wooden structure towards the lake that trickled slowly downstream. And that’s where he found you:

🌞his gorgeous bride.

🌞he’d always told you that he never expected you to conform to the traditional gypsy wife role, never needed you to bear him any more children or do the cooking or cleaning. Hell, you could lay around all day doing nothing and he’d look at you with the same adoration he always does. He didn’t even expect you to want to live in a vardo, yet you’d shown up with a bag and a smile when offered.

🌞 yet you refused, you demanded to help. Demanded to conform. You would cook the rabbit he’d kill (given you’d been a bit sick at the initial sight of it). And you’d kill his clothes, paying no mind to any blood shed on it.

🌞you were knelt against the river bank, ringing some clothes out you just washed then placing them into a small wicker basket, in a dress he didn’t quite recognise.

🌞”what y’doin up, sweetheart? Thought I told y’to relax today” he started, beginning towards you. Your head spun and those wide, innocent doe eyes gleamed back at him “had a big journey last night. No good f’little girls to be working the day after” he said, matter of factly with a stern look.

🌞”just wanted to get these clothes washed” you mumble, placing the final garment in the basket. “And what’s this you’ve got on, hmm?” He asked, as you look at your clothes “oh it’s a dress” “Mm I can see that, darlin. Just never seen it before” he tells you and you stand to give him a little spin. “My sister bought it for my birthday” you said and he grunts, gently grabbing your hips to pull you into him and sway you back and forth along with the breeze, dancing to nature’s music.

🌞”well y’know what these dresses are?” He hums and you shake your head, placing both hands on his chest. “These dresses are the kind that mammys wear. The kind you’d wear when they’re all pregnant and swelled up with little babes.” He says, accusingly. “Kind that little wives wear that are asking for a hiding” he warns

🌞”didn’t mean nothing by it, abe. Just thought it was nice” you admit and he smiles “I know you did, princess. Just an innocent little flower y’are.” He shakes his head.

🌞”but y’ve seen the other mammys around the camp haven’t you? Seen how they’ve dressed. Think you know what you were doin’ to your old man” he teases and you shake your head “m too old to be a da’ y’know. Way too bleeding old. Punishing me ain’t ya? Just asking for a little’un” he tuts and you giggle as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bed where he’d began

🌞”Aberama! The clothes!-” “Can fuckin’ wait” he grunts “got a little’un to put in ya first” he says, dropping you onto the bed and lazily flipping up your skirt to do what he did best.

🌞make your skin fucking crawl.

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kalyanamfurniture · 9 months ago

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Comparing King And Queen Size Beds: Which Is Best For You?

Choosing between a king-size and queen-size bed in bedroom furniture online in India often boils down to personal preference, space availability, and sleep comfort. Both options offer unique advantages and considerations, catering to different needs and preferences. Let's delve into a comprehensive comparison to help you decide which size best fits your bedroom.

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satoruhour · 11 months ago

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Just thought of something FREAKY in class… Single father Satoru looking for a babysitter and you’re looking for a side income during semester break and the tension goes crazy!!!! “We should’t be doing this my son will wake up” I’M GONNA SCREAMMMM

BLISS, PURE BLISS

a/n: happy new year LMFAOOO. thank you for all the asks btw i promise ill answer them asap 🥹 / @shotorus @osaemu @shidouryusm @mysugu @hyomagiri ♱

wc: 6.4k

warnings: ‘onee-san’ used but more of just addressing reader as an older figure because saying babysitter is kinda weird lol (kind of like how chinese people use 姐姐 even if they are not related), fem!reader, dilf!gojo, age gap (gojo in his late 30s, reader in mid-20s), angst if u squint, bit of slow burn n tension, making out, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, praise, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, p -> v sex, multiple rounds, consensual filming, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“no fucking way . .” you mumble mostly to yourself, standing in front of the largest house of the gated community in roppongi, and while you knew the people here were excessively and obnoxiously rich, you’re never quite prepared until you’re getting a key card specifically mailed to your name just so you could enter.

you’re not even shameful when you take a video to send to your best friends, locking your screen almost immediately because you knew you’d never get to the job on time if you replied to them. with calculated steps, you’re walking up the house that’s designed with a modern structure, yet still retaining characteristics of a traditional japanese home. it’s less prominent at the front of the house, though.

“(y/n)-san, was it?” a voice startles you out of your ogling sessions. if the garden was already this nice, what would be in store for you when you went in? you’ll be finding out soon when your employer himself opens the door to you, a man with striking white hair and equally striking blue eyes that seem to look right into you. he’s dressed in a suit, probably no doubt ready to get to work while you’re out here taking your time. you cringe, immediately walking up to the door.

“y-yes! yes, i’m sorry sir, i was just uhm—”

he holds that intimidating stare just for a moment but then he breaks into a smile that mirrors the bright sun that shines down on the porch.

“it’s alright . . it’s not everyday you’re working at some rich guy’s house, right?” he jokes but that strikes a little ick into you — he’s already ticking the boxes of obnoxious and excessively rich, but you hate the effect he’s having on you.

“yeah . . no, i guess,” he hums in reply before sticking a hand out.

“gojo satoru,” he introduces himself, “call me anything but that sir shit, alright, doll?”

you nod obediently, trying not to let the little pet name get to your head because he probably does this to any babysitter who comes through the house, but either way, he’s welcoming you in and it’s like you step into a world unreal. it’s spotless, the floors shining under the sunlight, a large television in the living room, a spacious open concept dining-kitchen area, and this is just the first floor.

gojo takes his time to show you the house — where his kid’s toys were, where the food was, where the bathrooms and bedrooms were, it was never-ending. every step you took made you feel like you were walking the length of the nile, each turn only revealing more rooms and corridors.

and then, finally, his baby boy.

“he’s a cheeky one, takes after his dad,” even with all the cockiness he’s shown to you, you can tell he has a soft spot for his kid. the boy stirs from his father’s voice, gleaming in happiness as he puts out his smaller hands to be picked up. as he settles into his arms, it’s just sinking in how tall your employer is. he makes a toddler look like a baby with how small his son looks wrapped snugly.

“satoshi, hi,” he whispers, bouncing the kid in his arms, “want to say hi to your onee-san?”

you manage a small wave but all he does is turn to hide in his father’s arms, definitely scared from a random stranger suddenly talking to him.

“she’s going to be taking care of you for the next month or so, you know?” he mumbles, brushing a hand through the matching white hair, “be nice to the babysitter, okay?”

all satoshi does is hum into his dad’s neck before he’s giving you a sheepish smile. “he’s like that, don’t worry about him.” and you return the smile, thinking that he wasn’t that obnoxious that you thought and that maybe he’s really a dad trying his hardest for his one kid. you realise he’s taking too much time, though, and so you sought out to remind him.

“oh, uh sir— gojo-san, don’t you have to go to work?”

although he’s mentioned satoshi to be taking after him, the boy goes right back to sleeping when he’s put back into his bed so you follow gojo as he adjusts his cuffs and smoothes out his collar just outside the room and you make the mistake of glancing upon the mirror on the far end of the corridor — it was undeniable that you looked like a high-end couple who’s newly married and raising a kid. you try to shake off the thoughts of adjusting his tie for him.

“it’s not being late if you’re on top.” he smirks and you resist the urge to roll your eyes; at least you weren’t alone in purging the delusional thoughts from your head, he was basically helping you at this point and you struggle between characterising him as conceited and admirable. “but, yeah, i should get going.”

but he stands at the door with backpack slung onto one shoulder while he continues to explain satoshi’s routines to you, his habits and also had to sneak in a few cute photos of the kid while squealing repeatedly and you’re left wondering how this guy could be the CEO of a company.

it’s been like that for as long as you can remember — bidding goodbye to your parents as you tell them that you’re off to your part-time job over the winter break. they’re happy you’re even leaving the house, shoving your lunch into your hands with big smiles that you’re at least doing anything other than sitting in your room. the train ride to the gated residential was nice, too, apart from the very crowded subways for people going to work in roppongi.

gojo greets you every morning when you arrive, reminding you of satoshi’s feeding times and his favourite shows and everything a father should know but don’t have the luxury to experience with aforementioned kid. it’s a little bittersweet, every time you see him kiss satoshi goodbye that turns into remaining in his room, to holding your hand and saying goodbye to daddy from the second floor, to getting carried by you at the front door.

it’s slow but sure progress day after day, from watching his cartoons, feeding him at the kitchen island, playing with his toys, that satoshi feels more and more comfortable with you, learning that while he was a well-behaved boy, he definitely had hints of your employer in him. mannerisms, words, voice, you wonder whether he even got any part of his mother in his genes.

you’d never ask, though, but it was told. unexpectedly.

“i’m home—” the last parts of his word die down into a whisper when he opens the door to see satoshi cuddled up to you, the last bits of home alone playing softly. by now you already know what happens in the movie so you’re texting your friends and laughing softly to yourself, jumping when your boss steps past the doorway. gojo winces when he checks his watch (“fuck. it’s already ten.”), toeing his shoes off and apologising simultaneously.

“oh— man, i’m so sorry, i had a late meeting with the CEO of our neighbouring franchise, i totally forgot about the time—” gojo’s quick to make his way down to the small pit of the house (he likes to call it the conversation pit), settling down on the side where satoshi had his head in your lap as his eyes linger on the movie. instinctively, his hands reach to pat his leg.

“oh, it’s okay, gojo-san, it’s the holidays anyway.”

“yeah?” he turns to you, one arm propped on the back of the sofa, “and why don’t a pretty girl like you have any plans?”

that catches you off-guard, among the many other times he’s called you pretty or sweets like no care in the world. you’re never quite used to it, too, seeking to fluster you. “you shouldn’t say stuff like that to me, gojo-san . .”

“why not?” he’s turned back to the television, now, and you take his place, staring at his side profile as the scenes of the movie move along his face. “i’m a single dad, aren’t i?”

“yeah but . . you could have anyone.”

“what if,” he turns and you chicken out, head snapping back to the front while he watches you and the both of you cannot deny the tiring dance you perform around each other all the time. the clench in his heart when he sees you carry his baby boy at the porch and the small smile he gives you every morning before he leaves for his job. he doesn’t want to go through with it and sighs.

it’s become hard to breathe around you. it’s become hard to hold himself back around you.

“i worked too much.” he suddenly says, facing the TV again. “i was too engrossed and . .”

confusion seeps in at first. yeah, it was no secret he worked his ass off despite being at the very top. your gaze falls to satoshi, curling more into your side like he’s cold and you adjust the blanket. you nod in recognition.

“we fought a lot. i tried— i tried to alter my schedule as much as i could, driving to and fro whenever she needed me, bringing satoshi to work as a baby when we couldn’t come to a compromise, but it was a lot. for her, for satoshi. he could sense whenever we were about to fight, on edge voices, items clattering to the floor . .”

by now, he’s leaned back, back of his hand resting on his forehead, “and he’d cry like he was interrupting us. cheeky, i told you,” and his eyes close, “we hardly reached middle ground. it was either this or that, hire a nanny or we take care of him, my endless job or the joy of life. i’m ashamed that i’ve prioritised my job more, and still do it now.”

“if you didn’t, i wouldn’t be here, would i?”

that draws a chuckle out of him, “correct.”

“she couldn’t take it, not when she was a businesswoman on top of that. she was out doing herself at every aspect in her job, going to greater heights, and while she accused me of putting work first, she isn’t entirely innocent, either. but that’s . .”

“you don’t have to say anything, gojo-san,” you mumble as you watch the reunion of the characters in the movie before the screen cuts the black, no doubt affecting him in some way at the warmth displayed by the movie that contrasts heavily with his situation, “the fact that you even told me is . .”

the heavy atmosphere is disrupted by satoshi gasping, “papa! you’re home.”

you exchange awkward smiles as you watch the boy fight his way out of the blanket to hug gojo, the latter huffing when the boy drops his body weight on him and you take it as a sign to give them a bit of privacy, standing up to clean up the popcorn and cups. laughter and your employer’s voice resonate throughout the place even as they go up the stairs, a rare occasion where gojo is able to get his son ready for bed.

it’s only maybe an hour later when the house falls into silence. mouth burning from the mouthwash, the heater in satoshi’s room turned to a high setting, one bedtime story was read (which, he fell asleep halfway), the boy was out like a light. you felt it inappropriate to leave without at least saying goodbye, but you also didn’t want to cut into their time together; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

so you waited with your things on the kitchen island, getting a risky text just as gojo comes down, still in his suit from work.

[11:02pm, nobara -> you] BITCH GET THAT DICKKKKK!!!!!!!

and you yelp softly, slamming your phone down onto his marble counter. thankfully, he doesn’t notice, eyes close to shutting from fatigue.

“oh, shit, you’re still here?”

“i thought it would be, weird, if i didn’t say goodbye,” you get ready to leave, slinging your tote bag on, “but i also didn’t want to intrude on your time with satoshi, limited as it is.” well, you did also wish something would happen, but you had too much pride to admit it to yourself.

“you got a ride home?” he yawns and you feel guilty for extending your stay already. you didn’t even need to worry about the front door, he lived in a gated community for christ’s sake!

“um, not really, but i can always book an uber home.”

“i’ll drive you home, it’s unsafe,” is all he says like he’s trying to convince himself, “let me just get changed and we can go.”

gojo doesn’t leave you any room to protest before he’s up the stairs again and you’re left with a pounding heart and dizzy head, not sure what might ensue. you know him to be honourable; you’ve seen him with his child, you’ve seen him interact with his neighbours, but a late ride with your boss sounds sketchy as it is.

but it doesn’t feel like it when you feel the tokyo wind blowing through your hair, a slight gap in the window bringing you the chills of the night as he silently drives you back home. sitting in your employer’s car most of all felt weird, but even more so when he’s reaching your home faster than the gps system had predicted. his knuckles are white.

“you—”

your head snaps to him, “yes?”

his car headlights are the brightest in the parking lot where every car is silent, quiet, much like his clammy hands and red cheeks. gojo satoru turns to you, feeling that familiar tug in his heart and lump in his throat for the first time in a while, and he can’t speak.

but you lean forward like your life depends on it and you leap inwardly when you see that he does the same. eyes trained forward, your stares boring into the other, waiting to see who’d close their eyes first. you just stop short of an inch, met with the hypnotising swirls of raging oceans in gojo’s eyes and you swallow when his eyes flit down to your lips and back up like he wouldn’t get caught.

with shaking hands, your fingers trace over his lips and you sigh when you feel just how soft they are, just like his skin, just like his eyes when they look at satoshi. your heart skips a beat when he just lightly kisses the pads of your fingers, and that encourages you to cradle his cheek, up his jaw, up his undercut.

“let’s just kiss, yeah?” he was afraid that if he spoke too loud, he’d shatter the glass, snap the string of tension, voice cracking until you swallow it, you stomach his nervousness with a lively, strong kiss from your lips to his, and he just melts.

gojo hums into the kiss, leaning forward over the stick shift and into the passenger seat before you counter it with your own movements: hand on his shoulders and pushing until you’re on his space of the driver’s seat and playing the game of tug that’s been going on for the past few weeks. you win.

“god, you’re so . .” gojo whines out when you climb onto him, whispering into your mouth while you get comfortable in your straddling position, cutting him off with a second, rougher kiss and you both moan softly, passion taking over in the evident way your arms scramble to wrap around him while he pulls you flush against his front.

the car is filled with sounds of your kissing, something that definitely shouldn’t be done in his home and yet you risk it all in your home’s parking lot. you break the kiss and hide in his neck, already starting the makings of a hickey there while your pelvis selfishly grinds into his front and he kneads your ass. in the mingling of breaths and moans, he’s left to stop the two of you when there’s a muffled ringtone coming from your bag and you swallow at the insanity of the situation.

“i’ll see you, monday, right?” gojo breathlessly says later, bulge still showing through his sweats while you hang outside the driver’s side, not wanting to leave. he takes your hand, planting a peck on it and then brings you in for another harmless kiss.

“yeah, gojo-san . . monday.”

you lose count of how many times you’ve swallowed throughout the night, but he says something to lift the mood just a bit.

“we just made out and you’re still calling me by my last name?”

you laugh lightly, “monday, satoru. i’ll be there, same time, on monday.”

gojo leaves a farewell kiss to the inside of your wrist, “attagirl.”

but if you’re not careful, it might just happen in satoru’s house.

the remainder of your employment at his house is tiring. it’s so hard not to kiss him before he leaves for work, so difficult not to long for him while you take care of satoshi, so entirely harrowing not to claim him as yours as you watch him play after his work. at this point, you’re hoping school will just start soon and the rush of assignments and readings will take your mind off of it, but you cannot deny the excitement every time you leave your house.

“you’ll bring food and cook every monday, wednesday, friday, and i’ll order food for the both of you every tuesday and thursday, how’s that?” gojo thinks it’s time to introduce him to larger pieces of food, but it’s gone past that by now and to your meal arrangements.

“i’m okay with cooking, though!” you assure him, and plus, you loved your parents’ home cooked bentos that they give you everyday, “do we gotta?”

“sorting out meals is tiring, (y/n),” gojo takes the place beside you, leaning against the counter just like you before drinking out of his cup, “i want to at least help at little.”

“you already are.” you smile, “i can see you making the effort.”

“it’s not enough, though, i could be doing better.”

gojo hates how this scene sets up — like two parents just figuring out the best for their kid — it’s a callback to the memory in the same exact kitchen. at least all you do is kiss and make out, because he wouldn’t know what to do if you moan out his name in that same intimate way that threatens his walls to come down again. he loved sex, he loved the bedroom, but he’s riding a thin line the way he’s doing with you.

“you are,” is everything that you say, and you leap forward to kiss him. you do it so hard that he has to put down the glass to fully embrace you, walking you backwards to the conversation pit and he carries you so effortlessly because he doesn’t want you walking backwards down some stairs.

he hates how you bring him into your lips, he hates how gently he lays you down, and he hates how you accept the kisses down your neck and body. you, on the other hand, aren’t doing so well, either — it’s either a hit or miss with a broken man like gojo satoru, and you’re stepping on glass shards hoping you don’t say anything wrong with him because he’s trying his best but he just can’t see it.

“are you okay with this?” he asks halfway down your torso and he gets lightheaded from how well his hands cover your waist. “tell me to stop, and i’ll stop.”

“n-no . . keep going, satoru.”

he exhales shakily at that, fingers tugging your top up and his hands are so cold you resist shivering, but you do anyway from the sheer fucking craziness that gojo drives you into. one pop of your button, and you’re already lifting your hips off the couch for him to remove your pants but movement on the stairs make you halt.

“papa?” satoshi calls out sleepily, rubbing his eyes and pouting. you can see it, almost, with how much time you’ve spent with the kid, and you hope he can’t see you. “i . . i had a nightmare and i just— i wanna sleep with you.”

he’s started sniffling and you feel your heart break that he knows his papa well enough to know he would never sleep in his room. his job always has him sleeping out in the living room.

go. you mouth, kissing your fingers and pressing it to his lips before he puts on a show — yawning, stretching his arms, already making satoshi feel at ease with his theatrics before he’s stopping at the foot of the stairs to look back at you. you already know gojo satoru has redeemed himself a hundred times over. i’ll see you tomorrow.

funnily, satoshi somehow does have some intervention powers, because each time the both of you attempt to go down on each other, he’s either saying he threw up, or he needs to use the toilet, or that he’s hungry. while you both love him to death, it’s also becoming difficult to hold back each time you see each other. his car in your parking lot is all he has and you dare not to go to his workplace where rumours would spark.

so after a tiring night of getting a hyper satoshi to sleep, you’d at least try. at this point, you know not to expect too much out of it, starting always with some talking. it was easy to talk to your boss, and when you phrase it like that, it did come off a little strange, but it was far from that when your boss in his late 30s looked just like he did ten years ago and that he had crazy blue eyes and insane white hair and was hot.

“thank you for taking care of him for the past month and a half,” gojo thanked you, leaning over to give you a peck to the temple, “it means a lot.”

“he’s a sweet boy, plus, i do need the money,” you giggle, nudging him, “and it did let me get to know you . .”

“certainly,” he mumbles. drunk off your scent, he leans in again, kissing you fully on the lips now. you hum softly, going on your tippy toes and wrapping your arms around his shoulder. swiftly, he props you on the kitchen counter and you yelp in surprise, unable to help the throb of your pussy when he slots himself in between your legs.

jokingly, he puts his hand to his ear. “no satoshi interruption tonight?”

you smack his shoulder, “don’t jinx it.”

he laughs, a proper laugh before he sighs shakily, fingers thumbing your sides gently. “you know . . we shouldn’t be doing this,” you feel your heart sink a little, but he quells it with hovering lips over yours, “he could hear and wake up.”

“then why have you been accepting all my kisses, gojo satoru?” your eyes challenge him, but you know one touch from him would have you submitting to him. his breath fans over your lips, and you can feel his pulse speed up when your fingers go over his neck, to his nape, to his undercut. you run your fingertips through it.

“you have too much power over me, simple.” that sentence has your eyes fluttering close. it’s too much for you and yet you welcome it with open arms, “it’s become so bad that you’re all i think about.”

“is that so?” you pull lightly on his hair.

he nods, foreheads touching now and he’s trying to hold himself back, but, “i’ve been holding back, entirely too much, baby, and i don’t think i can, anymore.”

“yeah?” you whisper, bringing him in with your legs, “show me, then.”

gojo satoru decides that maybe taking the leap isn’t so bad, so he fully gives himself to you, tugging your lips to his in a clashing kiss that has you groaning in pain just a bit. he giggles and apologises and tries again, and this time, it’s got your hips moving against him, whimpering into his mouth. gojo’s hard just from kissing, something that he’s desperate to relieve himself off so — he’s whispering for you to hang on while he slots his hands under your ass and lifts you.

satoru knows his house well, walking up with you in tow and lips still on yours, right into his room. you giggle when he plops you down and he’s already looking forward to ravishing you, but —

“let me check on satoshi for a sec.”

you laugh silently, “of course, satoru, go.”

and once your boss’ made sure his son is out cold in slumber, he’s all over you again and definitely showing you how much he’s been holding himself back. you’re the pure focus of the night, making you chase for more when he pulls away and kissing down your body. he worships it, tongue circling a nipple while his hand plays with the other, eyes staring holes into yours from how intense the blue was.

“s-satoru . .”

“yes, sweets, what is it?”

“feels good—” you whine, back arching into his hold once he leaves your tits and continues down your body. each kiss is like hellfire against your cold skin, and he pops a button and listens out again, both of you sighing in relief and giggling to each other when you don’t hear a knock on the door.

“does it? good.” it’s tantalisingly slow, the pace at which gojo peels your clothes off, but when your pants are finally off, he marvels at your beauty as he brings your legs apart. you’re shy, hiding yourself behind your arms and resisting his hands.

“aht, no, c’mon, show yourself, baby.” he only moans when he sees the dark patch at the centre of your underwear, pressing a finger into your clit and you’re ashamed at how intensely you react to it. gojo continues his torture, thumbing your bud just to watch your face contort into pleasure, “so, so pretty.”

you preen at the praise, even more so when he pulls your panties to the side and sucks slowly on your clit. it’s slow, again, and you’re clutching the sheets so tight when he lays his tongue flat against your pussy. satoru takes his time, savouring each bit of your cunt to make up for lost time, filling the room with the lewdest noises of your sopping cunt on his tongue.

“taste so fuckin’ sweet, pussy’s s’good,” he practically moans into your core, arms wrapping around your thighs to bring you closer while you try to keep your noises down to a minimum. little pants and mewls leave your lips, eyes never leaving the head of hair.

but he’s unpredictable, as gojo always is, so when he’s hovering over you just to give you a little innocent kiss, you think nothing of it, until he’s back in front of your pussy and starts eating you out like a starved man. you let out a loud moan, dragging it out until you’re gulping down your next sounds. it doesn’t help much, though, cause gojo’s slurping at your pussy like it’s the end of the world.

“s-satoru—! too much—” you moan but your hips grind into his mouth, your hands now finding purchase in his hair, “t-too loud.”

“mmf— don’t care,” he mumbles into your cunt, making sure he gets every drop of your arousal on his tongue while he abuses your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking hard and you think it’s the best head you’ve ever gotten.

“not when your cunt’s so perfect,” you only press his head deeper into you like it would stop his muffled sentences, but that only spurs him to suck harder before he just shifts down a little to plunge his tongue into your hole. you choke out a moan as his nose nudges your clit, clenching around his muscle.

“relax— mmhh, you gotta relax, baby,” he’s massaging your thighs but if anything it does the exact opposite, closing your thighs around his head in sensitivity.

“it’s— h-hard to,” you moan out, already feeling the coil in your tummy that’s approaching oh, so quickly when gojo eats you out like this. he shifts his attention back to your puffy clit, eyes flicking up to make contact with yours and you shrivel under his intense stare, “w-when you’re making me feel s’good—!”

you feel him smile into your cunt but he says nothing, taking note of the drop of your jaw, the scrunch of your eyes, the contractions of your stomach. your legs like to straighten out and shake when you’re close, he memorises. when you start to tighten your grip on his hair, he ingrains it in his mind.

“cumming— i’m c-close,” but it’s like satoru doesn’t even need it when his eyes digest the way he sends you over the edge with just his tongue.

“g— god! satoru!” your mouth falls into a silent scream after, head dipping so much into the pillow while you grind your cunt into his face, gushing all over his face with a renewed spirit and regret for all those times that men have rubbed your left lip thinking it was your clit.

“let it go, yeess . . that’s it,” satoru doesn’t hesitate to get sloppy, sucking up all your cum, gasping for air once he’s done with his meal, “pretty girl just came all over my face.”

you struggle to your elbows despite the words he utters, propped up just to catch a glimpse of him and the soaked bottom of his face that stretches into a smile.

“was that better than all the uni boys who’ve never felt the touch of a woman?” you laugh at that, making quick work of grabbing his chin and bringing him back to your lips.

“much, much better.” and you take the opportunity to flip the tables, trembling, shaking legs trying their best to wrap around his torso to straddle him — but once you’re over, you’re not quite sure what to do apart from letting your hands roam all over the expanse of his shoulders and chest.

“and can she do it again all over my cock?” the obscene words sound almost taboo falling from his mouth that your mouth drops open in initial shock, but it subsides into anticipation soon enough.

wordlessly, you take matters into your own hands, fingers making quick work of his trousers while he removes his top impatiently. the scowl on your face is prominent when you struggle to work his belt out and he chuckles with helping hands, the burn on your face deepening.

“there,” gojo giggles and he pulls you in with a peck-filled apology, “don’t worry, we have all the time in the world.”

you hum, “not when your son could knock any time soon.”

that prompts a giggle that fades off into a loud moan once your warm hand wraps around him, something that he’d never tell you how many times he’s fantasised about. slowly, you stroke his cock, excruciatingly slow just like how he’s done to your cunt earlier.

you’re hovering over him, now, dragging his tip along your pussy and whining softly at the pre-cum that mixes together with your juices. you need him into you as soon as possible, and apart from your soon burning thighs, you’ve been wanting this for as long as you’ve stepped foot into his house from the very first day.

inch by inch, you sink down onto gojo’s weeping cock, getting the luxury of feeling his sensitive twitches with the plunge into your cunt. you’re glad at least he had offered to stretch you out just a tad bit earlier, the intrusion of his fingers already having you panting for his dick; and now, when you have the real thing, it drives your mind insane.

“’t-toru— haah . .” your body curls up from the painful stretch, lips muttering the nickname unknowingly as you grasp onto his shoulders for support, and while he helps you on, he never stops saying the most filthy things, grinning each time you clench around him.

“never thought i’d be here, fuckin’ the babysitter, but here we are,” your oh my god is whispered only for the other to hear, body burning up from the words before he grinds his pelvis into yours and you slump forward in pleasure. your words are a bunch of nothingness, a string of incoherence, “and her pussy’s just so fucking— tight!”

giving you one or two breaths of rest, satoru coos in your face, cradling it and littering kisses all over it before he’s moving his hips and you’re breaking the kiss to whine out, moving your hips to meet his as well. you move sooner or later, bouncing on his cock once you’re more used to him in you and the position only hits all your spots just right.

“f-fuck— you’re so big—!” you roll your hips into him, eyes stuck on how there’s just a small bump in your tummy each time you bottom out. your boss from across you is equally ruined, eyes struggling to keep open with wet hair stuck to his forehead. “feel so so g-good . .”

“yeah?” he breathlessly mumbles, hand squeezing and kneading your ass and trying to help you, but the warmth of your cunt around his length just feels too good. “bounce on that dick, baby.”

and you do, planting your feet into the bed and fingers creating bruises along his shoulders as you impale yourself on his fat cock, switching to relaxing in his embrace and letting your hips do the work when your legs start hurting. there, you indulge in gojo’s lips as you hump him, the delicious friction of your clit against his pubes sending you reeling.

“you’re going to be soaking my sheets from how much you’re leaking,” gojo jests, letting your moans take over his mind while his lips trace down your neck, eyes just peeking over to see your ass ripple from the force. “not that i mind. how’s she doin’?”

“she’s getting,” a choked whine interrupts you, “a little tired.”

and that draws a laugh out of gojo who does nothing but tease you, something he likes to do even in makeout sessions, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach over to his bedsie table to grab his phone, leaning back to bask in your glory. here, your body just looks heavenly as you try your best to move on his lap.

“hang on a little more for me, princess,” with one hand, his larger hand leave chills all over your body and the other points his phone at you, not before making sure you were okay with it, “and smile for the camera.”

you try your best even when his hand make his way to your mouth, pulling it open with his fingers to slot it in. you’re sure you look like a whore right now, but the camera pointed your way only turn you on more, like it’s beckoning you to put on a show. and you loved the attention, so you close your lips around his fingers and start sucking, grinding even harsher on his cock that has gojo stuttering.

“y—yeah, attagirl . .” he grins at the video he takes, “show the camera how much of a cockslut you are.”

you whine, bringing the hand to your clit while you shove two hands onto his torso to really work your thighs out, feeling that familiar curl in your stomach once he starts rubbing his saliva-filed fingers along you bundle of nerves.

“r-right there, satoru—!” you swear under your breath, giving hooded eyes to the camera while you chase your high drunkenly, all sort of coherent thought banished from your head. “love your cock, love it, love it—!”

satoru swears he wants to cum from just watching you use him, and even holding himself back is proving difficult when you clamp and tighten around him until his fingers press particularly deep into your clit and you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name, body convulsing all over the video.

“tha’s a good girl . . cream my cock, yeeaaahh . .” gojo watches, hypnotised, as you lose control over your body, but the pleasure-filled whimper that you merge his name with is just too good, that he spills unexpectedly in you. the video is far from stable, so he only slaps the phone down to relish in his orgasm. gojo pushes his hips up and you gasp at the feeling, back arching when you feel his cum seep into you.

you’ve never even given much thought to pregnancy, but the feeling of his cum dribbling into you fogs your mind that you only want more after a mental note to buy the morning after pill tomorrow.

“n-need more,” you beg, fondling at his cheeks and undercut, “w-want more cum in me, satoru . .”

and it’s like a flip switches in him, because he’s flipping you over right after — he has to see his cum leave your pussy first though, taking the still ongoing video and putting it right up to your pussy, using his tip to smear your mixed juices all around.

“who knew i’d hired such a dirty girl?” he addresses the camera more than you, but he catches your flustered glance with a wink and after poorly setting up the camera on his bedside table (he just was too intoxicated on your cunt), he’s pushing back into you with a loud groan, not even caring for the consequences any more. his cum is just so much, too, spilling out the sides.

“only f’r you,” you mumble, grabbing at his forearms needily. your eyes flutter close as he bottoms out, your legs pushed right up to your chest as he folds you whichever way he wants to. at this point, if he wanted to own you, you wouldn’t object one bit, not when gojo satoru’s cock stretches your pretty pussy so nicely. “a cumslut only for you.”

“yeah?” he starts moving his hips and your arch into his hold, “i wonder how i got so — fuck — lucky.” everything is sloppy and wet and disgusting and you love every moment of it, even after he’s cummed in you the second, third, fourth time, you’re happy to be pumped full of his cum, giving him a tired, glistening grin that he returns.

“think i should be transferring over my life savings for a cunt this sweet,” you giggle at the compliment, but don’t protest when he’s pulling up the app to gift you with a hefty amount; both your salary and bonus, all from making gojo satoru fall helplessly just from your touch — something to brag about indeed.

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sleep-0-deprived · 1 month ago

Text

Feels like sugar in me~ (Dom Yandere manager x model male reader) ૮꒰っ˕‹̥̥̥ ꒱ა

WC:. 2.5k

Tags: power abuse, ass eating, voyuer, humiliation, gaslighting/ manipulation, older man-younger man (character is referenced in his mid forties and reader in his twenties) dark content, slight dub con, dacryphilia <33

A/N: my posting schedule has been all wonky the past month! But I hope you guys enjoy and as promised @blond3ang3l ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Everybody knew that modeling was a cruel line of work, your father told you so ever since you were just a little boy prancing around your bedroom.

Most male models didn’t last more than a month in the industry, you understood exactly why once you started putting yourself out there. Applying to all the big name brand you could never dream to be taken in by but you wanted to atleast try!

Here you were, halfway across the U.S trying to pursue your own little American dream and how else would you do that if not by working in some rundown diner by your apartment. Well that was until you met Him, tall and undoubtedly handsome with black hair having grey streaks through the sides with a small little beard of mostly white hairs, his name hung infamous to anybody who ever wanted to be a somebody, Dean Carter was his name.

You didn’t know him too well, just a local man who liked the diner you worked at for some reason you always thought. But he’d smile at you a little too long or tip you a little too much with his age showing at every glance he handed you. Creases in the corners of his eyes and lips crinkling up in delight when he watched how your hips swayed in your apron working the floor having him in awe. He had to have you—he absolutely needed you.

He’d simply slip you his business card just trying to swoon you under his wing like any big dreaming boy, whispering honeyed promises of fame and being a star on the runway to you anytime you would doubt him. Your fate was sealed the moment he wanted you, he was a man of greed and power and he wanted you in his pocket like a caged bird.

Here you were, eight months later from meeting dean, a photo shoot just being finished by you but you were far from happy. How could you possibly be happy when all you were seen as was the pretty boy who slept his way to fame, and the worst part of it all was the fact they weren’t wrong and all you could do is sit in your designated seat in your dressing room feeling the cold hand clasping your cheek “don’t listen to them baby, you’re just so much more than a pretty face and you know it”

Dean leans down kneeling on his knees with his chin resting on your shoulder blade holding your chin making you look at the mirror straight ahead of you. “Sh-sh doll don’t pout, you’ll ruin your makeup” his lips press to the back of your ear as his hands grip the sides of your seat turning you facing him.

“Not right now dean..” you whimper out silently feeling the hotness in your eyes bubbling up with tears that threaten to peak. “Don’t be that way baby doll, let me make it all better, you know I just wanna help” his voice softens so much your heart wants to believe it’s all real but atlas, you knew so better and yet you still fell.

“Not tonight dean, I don’t feel like it” you sniffle put rubbing your face feeling your warm cheeks under your palms while his hands slip down massaging your thighs in the slacks you were modeling. His thumbs tracing up slowly to your zipper giving it a little tug, you already knew what he was getting at and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him.

“Hush darlin, it’ll all feel alright so soon” a elicit purr fell from his thin lips when he stops after opening up the top of your pants leaving them hanging up on your hips, his hands slipping up to your hip bone and grabbing it gently lifting you up out of the chair and getting you on the counter of your dressing room while his hands guide your thighs apart.

“People will hear us dean” you hush out and tilt your head back looking upwards at him trying your hardest to not let your emotions win tonight. “Well then they’d be lucky, you’re my little show-boy aren’t you [name]? Always strutting down that runway”

Dean’s hands slide up your sides gripping your boxers and the waistband of your bottoms and slid them off down your thighs with ease leaving you in your white socks and the designer shirt, having not made it to putting on the shoes yet.

“O-h shit—“ you go slack in the face with your jaw hanging pinching your brows together when his face shoves between your thighs and nuzzles his way between your cheeks having you spread wide arching your back and holding the marble counter top.

“Taste’s so sweet doll, like sugar on mh tongue” his voice deepens rolling his own eyes back into his skull leaving red irritation marks on your ass cheeks from his stubble while he groans against your hole before lapping his tongue out from his mouth giving a long lick going down your crack leaving your balls neglected while your cock stands half hard.

“Dean, they’re gonna hear us~” you can’t help anymore, you slowly crumble on the counter, reaching your hands back and placing them over your mouth trying to hide how you were crying like a little boy and leaning back against the dressing room mirror internally praying that none of the brand executives made it to your room to see you in all your glory hitching your leg up on the older males shoulder and letting him devour you like a helpless lamb.

Deans tongue presses flat to your rim and keeps rubbing against it before his lips press against your hole sucking at it and gripping your thighs tighter looking up at you the whole time wanting to kiss away your tears.

“My baby boy is such a pretty cryer” he hums in a sickeningly sweet tone coating your rim in a glossy layer of his spit making heat build inside your stomach leaving your cock now fully erect pressing it’s way to your belly button.

“I’m not gonna- I can’t handle it!” A sharp gasp falls from your lips feeling like you’re being torn apart by the man between your thighs. His fingers moving off your thighs only leaving his right hand on your knee trying to keep your thighs from fully closing around his hand while he takes his fingers and snakes his way between your cheeks, letting us index finger prod open the walls whilst he keeps flicking his tongue in sync to his fingers.

“You wanna be a star right doll? Let me make you the brightest one” the movement doesn’t slow or waver leaving your lips trembling against your palm understanding his inward promise, the one he’s told you a thousand times over.

“Close dean” you sloppily slur and cry out feeling your hand slipping from hour mouth when his finger works its way against your prostate having the world around you turn white in a buzz and your cock glaze over with a pearl of semen leaking down the sides of your base making your body clamp up ready for the wave of release to wash over you only to have him pull away from your ass leaving your leg sliding off his shoulder when he stands back up.

“I want you to reach your orgasm from my cock, not my mouth baby doll” his words wash over you when he wipes his hands off and starts undoing his belt leaving his slacks undone while he opens up his fly, the grey waistband reading ‘Calvin Klein’ exposes itself to you before he pulls out his cock showing him already stiff from eating you out.

“Look at the mess you made baby, you’ve got my face utterly filthy” stepping between your thighs keeping them spread open while he presses his face into the side of your neck with your legs slowly lifting up to his hips, “the staff will hear us, I don’t want them to know dean” your hand finds its way into his hair and pulls at it, not even bothering to hide the hot tears streaming down your face.

He reaches his hand off your hip, still holding it tight with his other hand while he holds your chin firm and lifts his head from the crook of your neck pressing hot kisses to your damp cheeks. Dean’s cock presses its way between your slick cheeks letting his cock-head rub and make contact with your rim almost daring to push inside you but not doing so yet.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ve got’cha” his words linger muffled and half audible between his lust filled haze and the wet kisses he left across your skin. Your thighs stay parted up on his hips with your eyes looking up at him feeling humiliated in ways beyond words, unable to stare in the mirror behind you, unable to face what you’ve let him break you into.

“Just push in dean” your sniffles fall on deaf ears but he just smiles down at you and takes his lips off your cheeks placing them on your neck while letting your chin out of his clasp making your ruined face fall forwards on his shoulder when he slips his hands back to your hips guiding you down on his cock. “That’s a good boy, my sweet little angel” he talks you through it making your rim ease up when he sinks into you leaving you feeling every vein of his shaft when it pierces you.

“Sh-sh-sh don’t cry, baby. If you stay nice and quiet I’m sure they won’t hear” his words do very little in terms of easing you. Your neck tilts back looking up at the ceiling and staring through blurred leans as you reach your hands off the counter edges and dig your nails into the back of his tailored suit, leaving lighter colored marks on the fabric while the sound of hushed moans and skin filled up the dressing room.

Dean continued to roll his hips and make out with your neck, butting and sucking on every inch moaning into the skin, not bothering to stop your tears “you’re so pretty when you cry like that Y’know angel”

his voice was far to sweet for the ways he was ravaging your body. His cock pressed up against your prostate with every deep stroke he gave, your cock weeped against your stomach the whole time he held your hips flush against him while working between your legs, making sure his cock rubbed and violated every inch of your cavern.

Dean held your hips tight, softly massaging them and rutting his hips fucking you up against the counter with his canines dragging alongside of your neck so soft you felt like you were on cloud nine and yet you wanted to puke. You’ve never felt so beautiful yet so dirty until you were with him.

You finally look down from the ceiling with a sharp gasp “o-oh Dean-“ your eyes zoom out until they see the dressing room door peaking open, then it’s like bells and gears in your head start churning with your toes curled close to cumming. “Don’t even pay attention to it doll” Dean smooths you or at least he try’s to sooth you but fails, you just shove your face into his shoulder moaning and wailing to yourself when you realize there’s someone entering the room.

“Are you almost ready [nam—“ low and behold the door opened wide standing in the doorway was one of the stage managers for your upcoming shoot today, he stood jaw slacked the clipboard nearly falling from his hand staring at you watching how Dean didn’t bother stopping making the tears flow faster when you look up from dean’s shoulder having your eyes meet.

“Scram, boy. [name] is busy right now” Dean’s voice hardens tilting his head back out of your neck with drool smeared on his chin from a the kissing he was doing to your neck. He doesn’t bother to stop your coupling session but instead shoo’s off the other man. Oliver the stage manager scrambles to leave quickly, not wanting to be in the middle of the situation any longer but you knew him.

You knew within ten minutes the whole brand- better yet label. Would know your secret and that alone made your face go red with shame. “I’m close~ let-me come please?” You plead with Dean knowing that you needed your high, you needed the adrenaline that brought you to heaven before throwing yourself back down to sadness like always.

“Come for me darlin, just let go” Dean croons to you holding you up on the counter steadily thrusting into you already starting to leak more pre cum inside you. Your dressing room door still open wide leaving anyone able to see you being ruined by your manager if they just walked down the hall. Your cock starts to spasm and bob upwards jerking on its own about to cum as your legs wrap tighter around his hips, gripping his back and curling your toes tight arching.

Your walls clamped tight around his manhood when you finally hit your peak feeling rope after rope speed from the pudgy cock head when you orgasm. Dean pulls out of you and comes all over your thighs, holding you tight and panting when his cock throbs and releases its load all over your thighs in a thin and runny mess while you sit panting and truth to wipe away your tears before you can even look back at Dean.

“You did great, so great doll” he murmurs his words leaning down kissing your cheek and wiping your eyes leaving you sitting on your dressing room counter all splayed and ruined with cum coating your skin and runny mascara flowing down your cheeks as you watch Dean remove his hands off you and start fixing up his pants, wiping his cock off before putting it back inside his own boxers.

“I’m sorry I have to run honey, I need to straighten things out and I have an appointment with the magazine executives for your next shoot” with one last kiss on your cheek and an infatuatedly pleased smile when he looks down and sees your thighs coated in his cum, a small peck is forced on your lips before you watch him leave as he always did once he was finished.

Sitting alone in your dressing room, still up on the counter with the door now shut feeling the sadness wash over you from the after effects of your orgasm leaving your rubbing your eyes having to get up and get cleaned “I have to learn to stop crying, I swear” you whisper aloud to yourself walking around the dressing room just cleaning yourself off with a complementary rag and looking at your disheveled appearance in the mirror making you sight, after all how could you not? This same scene replayed day after day with Dean and you knew it would continue to.

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