#LET HIM REST IN MY ARMS I’M BEGGING YOU

[memorabxlia]

Tied Up ━ 방찬

genre: smut summary: “It’s long enough to tie you to the bed.” warnings: language, bondage, oral (fem receiving), begging, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap up irl!), Chan is referenced as Chris in this, I most definitely forgot something pairing: boyfriend!bangchan x fem!reader wc: 1.2k a/n: DAY 12!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The room smells like pine and cinnamon, a lingering reminder of the Christmas morning chaos. The discarded wrapping paper is scattered across the floor, remnants of gifts exchanged with laughter and delight. You’re perched on the edge of the bed, holding a long piece of red ribbon, about to toss it into the trash when Chris stops you.

“Hey, don’t throw that away,” he says, his voice low and teasing. His eyes gleam with mischief as he plucks the ribbon from your fingers, letting it slide through his hands like silk.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. “And what exactly are you planning to do with this? Tie up some more presents?”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he steps closer. His body radiates warmth, and you feel the heat of him even before he touches you. “Oh, no. This has a much better use.” He leans in, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispers, “It’s long enough to tie you to the bed.”

Your stomach flips, a mix of surprise and anticipation coiling tight inside you. “Is that so?” you murmur, your voice trembling just slightly. The idea sends a shiver down your spine, but not one of fear—no, it’s something far more electric.

Chris smirks, his hand trailing up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “You’ve been teasing me all morning,” he says, his tone playful but laced with something darker, needier. “Every time you bent over to pick up a gift, every time you leaned forward to grab a cookie… you’ve been driving me crazy. And now…” He holds up the ribbon, letting it dangle between his fingers. “Now I think it’s my turn to have a little fun.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “And what if I say no?”

His grin widens, and there’s a glint in his eye that makes your knees weak. “You won’t.”

Before you can protest, he’s gently pushing you back onto the bed, the soft comforter cushioning your fall. The ribbon slips around your wrists, cool and smooth against your skin. You gasp as he tugs lightly, testing the knot, and then secures your hands to the headboard. The sensation is strange but thrilling, the way the ribbon bites just enough to remind you that you’re at his mercy.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his voice dripping with faux concern.

You tug experimentally at the restraints, feeling the ribbon hold firm. “Not bad,” you admit, trying to sound casual despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

Chris laughs, a deep, rich sound that fills the room. “Good. Because I’m just getting started.”

He kneels between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs. His touch is warm, possessive, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it travels over your body. Slowly, deliberately, he traces patterns on your skin, his fingertips skimming higher and higher until they brush against the fabric of your panties.

You bite your lip, arching into his touch, but he pulls back, smirking. “Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “I want you to beg for it.”

You groan, frustration mixing with arousal. “Chris…”

“Shh,” he interrupts, pressing a finger to your lips. “Patience.”

He drags his hands back down your thighs, his touch feather-light. Then, without warning, he brings his palm down sharply against the tender flesh of your inner thigh. The sting catches you off guard, and you yelp, your hips jerking involuntarily.

“Sensitive, huh?” he teases, his voice dark with amusement. He does it again, this time on the other side, and you squirm, the sensation mingling pain with pleasure in a way that leaves you breathless.

“Chris, please,” you whimper, your voice breaking. The ribbon tightens as you pull against it, your body straining toward him.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your hipbone. “Please what?” he asks, his breath hot against your skin.

You moan, unable to form coherent words. He takes that as encouragement, his mouth moving lower, trailing kisses along the curve of your thigh. When he reaches the juncture of your legs, he pauses, his breath ghosting over your aching core.

“Tell me,” he demands, his voice a growl.

“Eat me out,” you plead, desperate for relief. “Please, Chris, please.”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer. In one swift motion, he yanks your panties aside and buries his face between your legs, his tongue delving deep into your slick folds. The sensation is overwhelming, and you cry out, your hands clenching into fists above your head.

He moans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His tongue flicks over your clit, fast and relentless, and you writhe beneath him, helpless under the onslaught of pleasure. Every lick, every suck, feels like it’s lighting you on fire from the inside out.

“So good,” he growls, his voice muffled against you. “You taste fucking incredible.”

His hunger is insatiable, his movements almost frenzied as he devours you like a man starved. You can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with each passing second. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, your back arching off the bed as you hurtle toward the edge.

“Chris, I’m—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as he sucks hard on your clit, tipping you over the edge. Pleasure explodes through you, white-hot and all-consuming, and you scream his name as you come undone.

He doesn’t let up, his tongue coaxing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body. By the time he finally pulls away, you’re a wrung-out mess, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. He climbs up your body, settling between your legs, and you can feel the hardness of him pressing against your thigh.

“Need you,” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

“You’ll get me,” he promises, his eyes dark with lust. “But first…” He grabs the end of the ribbon, slowly pulling it free from the headboard. Your arms fall limply to your sides, but before you can move them, he’s gathering your wrists together and securing them once more, this time behind your back.

“Chris,” you protest weakly, though you’re too spent to put up much of a fight.

He silences you with a kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth as he positions himself at your entrance. “Trust me,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re going to love this.”

And then he’s inside you, filling you completely in one fierce thrust. You gasp, your nails digging into your palms as he sets a brutal pace, fucking you deep and hard. Every stroke pushes you closer to the edge again, your body already wound tight from your last orgasm.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he slams into you. “So tight, so perfect.”

You can’t speak, can’t think, can only feel as he drives into you with unrelenting force. The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your combined moans echoing off the walls.

“Cum for me again,” he commands, his voice raw with need. “I want to feel you—”

The words are cut off as your body convulses around him, another wave of pleasure crashing over you. He follows close behind, his release spilling deep inside you as he collapses on top of you, his breathing ragged.

For a moment, you both lie there, tangled together in the aftermath. Then, with a wicked grin, Chris sits up, his eyes gleaming with renewed mischief. “Think we should save the rest of the ribbon for later?”

❥﹒ stray kids taglist: @minkilicious @casemoa143 @instabull @lice @amarecerasus

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter III

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 6.810 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

I refuse to let the fanfics in this app gaslight me into forgetting just how pathetic Rafe was in the show. Like just because a man is dangerous and unhinged doesn't mean that he isn't some needy little dumbass that begs 24/7. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

Rafe tries to cover up a painful groan, mumbling something unintelligible as you carry him up the stairs. He’s draped entirely over you, half his weight weighing you down as you tiptoe over the steep steps, hoping that your slow pace comes off as caution rather than as struggle.

You are struggling, though.

Struggling to figure out why you got yourself into this mess in the first place.

It's way past ten. The night outside is as dark as anything, the wind howling wildly against the heavy windows of Rafe’s house. But you’re not at home, with a belly full of nothing, sleeping to try and distract from the hunger as your brother’s friends play around outside, their laughter lulling you. You’re carrying a stranger up the stairs of his house, praying that his parents don’t catch you.

Rafe’s arm is tightly wrapped around your shoulders, squeezing your side to his chest. His other arm, once resting carelessly over the handrail, is now crossed over your body, resting in the dip of your waist.

He fists the fabric of your top as he tumbles, a gasp catching in his throat the second you grab him, pulling him upright before he can fall onto the stairs.

A drunken giggle falls from his lips. – Oops. – He’s grinning. You can feel him looking at you, but your eyes drift down the railing, peeking at the distant ground beneath.

It’s a wonder to you that no one has died falling down these stairs.

You press his arm tighter around your shoulder.

Reaching the solid ground of the second floor almost feels like a conquest, but you look forward only to be met with a multitude of doors, all of them painted white, with nothing to tell you who each room belonged to. – Which one is your room, Rafe? Where do you sleep? – He groans, looking around in confusion, as if he didn’t recognize his own home, then he stops and looks at you for a moment, giggling. – Rafe. – You adjust his weight, your back aches from dragging him around everywhere. He must be as exhausted as you are. – I’m serious. Aren’t you tired? Don’t you wanna go to bed?

He seems amused by the question.

– You wanna– You— He laughs loud enough that you have to shush him, but he’s still chuckling with his mouth against your lips. – Sorry. You… You wanna go to bed with me? That was quick.

– Oh, I bet it was.

His smile twists into a frown, brows knitting together. – What’s that– Hey, watch out! Careful.— What’s that supposed to mean? – You’re the one laughing now, but you reach for the first door, and Rafe stops you. – That’s, uhm, that’s Sarah’s room.

– Oh.

– I don’t wanna see Sarah. I don’t. – His voice is heavier than it was before, and you can see his eyes struggling to keep open even as he tries to rub the exhaustion away.

– It’s okay. We’re not gonna see Sarah right now. We’re gonna put you to bed. Your bed, preferably.

Rafe’s laughter has fully died down now. You keep wandering down the hall, opening doors and finding guest rooms, and bathrooms and offices, already resigned to the fact that you aren’t getting any help from him.

– Are you gonna sleep with me? – He asks suddenly, looking at you as if it was a serious matter.

– No, Rafe. You’re the one who’s gonna be sleeping. – You sneak a glance at your watch. 10:46. John’s probably freaking out. You reach for another door, this one closer to the end of the hallway, right beside the double doors you assume belong to his father. – What about this one?

– That’s Wheezie. Wheezie’s room. Why— Why won’t you sleep with me? – He’s ridiculous. You laugh before you can help yourself. There’s a childishness to the way he asks such an absurd question, his voice is so small, his eyes are so big, his lips remain open even after he stops talking. Like a kid asking his babysitter if she can stay for christmas. You don’t answer, still laughing to yourself, because you don’t know what to say.

– What about this one?

– What’s so funny? – He’s not smiling anymore.

– Nothing. Nothing’s funny, Rafe. You have to sleep. Is this your room?

– Guest room.

– Jesus Christ. Which one is yours?

– Are you gonna sleep with me? – He’s trying to stand in front of you and look you in the eye, but he can’t even stand on his own feet, you have to steady him.

It’s better to let drunk people think they’re in control than to anger them by denying. You’ve learned your lesson way back when. So you just tilt your head and bat your eyes at Rafe, trying not to smile too condescendingly. – Is that what you want me to do? – He nods, inching closer, his hands reaching for you. – Sure, then. I will. Where’s your room?

– Kiss me.

– Where’s your room, Rafe?

– Kiss me first. – You roll your eyes at him, though he’s already draped over you again, his eyes, still blown out despite the charcoal purge, staring at your lips. In the darkness that surrounds you, you only see the outline of his expressions: his crooked smile, his parted lips, the gleam that catches his eyes, reflecting something foreign, that you can’t quite read, as he leans into you expectantly. Your lips catch the corner of his mouth, his breath hitches, and he turns to try and deepen that little peck, like a starved man savoring the crumbs before getting to the main dish.

There’s a pleasure that comes from crushing his expectations, though you know it isn't healthy to feel like that. You remain there, your lips against his, for only a split second before you pull away.

You try to move towards the next door, but he’s quicker than you are.

Before you can take another step, Rafe hooks an arm around your waist and yanks you backward. The motion is sudden, but it isn’t ffortless, your back pressing against his chest just as his own crashes into the wall behind him.

You dodge his lips before he can kiss you, and his mouth remains there, against your cheek, brushing upwards to rest against your temples when you exclaim in a hush: – Are you trying to wake the entire house?!

– It wouldn’t have made any noise if you’d kissed me, like you promised. – He bemoans in a whisper.

– I did. – You want to laugh, but you keep your face still, though you smile despite yourself.

Rafe scoffs, still holding you against him. – Y’know, Barry was right. You are a tease.

Just like that, your playful mood vanishes.

You stare at him for a couple seconds, unsure of what he meant by that.

You try to tell yourself that Barry would never say something like that about you, especially while you’re not around, but a little part of you crawls with doubt.

You’re frozen at that moment. He’s watching you, waiting, head tilted, blue eyes gleaming. You want to ask, but you’re not sure you’ll like the answer.

You exhale through your nose and push forward, trying to shake off the feeling like water from your skin. – You’re really high, huh? – You take a step back, but he moves with you, much steadier than someone as inebriated as he is should be.

– Look at me. – He whispers, his voice is soft, but you know he isn’t asking.

Rafe leans in a little too close as you step back, his breath warm on your cheek, his hand now hovering over your waist. His fingers twitch, as if he’s fighting an urge, trying to figure out what part of you to dig in first.

– Look at me. – He whispers again, the command almost too soft to be one. His eyes never leave you, he drinks you in, you can feel his gaze going through every inch of you, his hands struggling to keep in place.

You pull away, eyes darting to the door behind you.

– Rafe. – It’s not a warning, you don’t know what it is. But Rafe doesn’t even seem to hear it. There’s something more in the way he watches you now, a flicker of something far too intense.

– Look at me. – He repeats. It sounds like a plea, the way he barely murmurs it, his body swaying, almost as if magnetized to you. His hand, once hovering, brushes the inside of your arm as he reaches for your waist, then starts climbing upwards. – You promised. – he whispers, lips curling slightly as he presses into you, his touch lingering in places you didn’t think it would go.

It’s as if he's testing the boundaries, seeing how much you’ll let him get away with. How much you will allow.

Your heart skips a beat, almost frozen within you.

You try and focus on the task at hand. You shift your weight slightly, ready to play the part— to let it slide for just long enough to get him into bed, to make sure he’s safe.

To make sure you're safe.

– Where’s your room, Rafe? – You push the question out like it’s any other, because you refuse to let yet another person play with you like that.

You didn’t learn from the mistakes of the other girls JJ tossed aside. So you had to learn from your own mistakes.

Rafe wants you to give him something, something deeper than compliance or defiance, something he can bite into.

You won't.

You're not a doll, hanging on the wall, he can just grab at and play with until he tires himself out. You're not a toy.

You cared about JJ. You don't care about Rafe. You tell yourself that again as you look up at him, waiting.

He doesn’t answer immediately. He just steps closer, his eyes darting to your lips, to the space between you that’s suddenly more charged than it should be. – You’re eager, huh? D’you want me?

His lips glisten as he whispers the question. You can’t tell where he’s looking at anymore. Rafe’s eyes drift everywhere your skin shows, and though his hand still lingers, pressed against your ribcage, just beside your chest, where the top covers you, he seems to delight in the naked warmth of your inner arm, brushing against the back of his hand.

– I want you to go to bed.

– So you can tuck me in? – His thumb draws patterns beneath your chest, gaze shifting between your lips and your neck, almost in reverence.

– I can do that.

– Only if you kiss me first.

His words hang in the air between you.

You know he won't give this up.

He'll be calmer if you give him what he wants. Maybe this will help you, but you have to play your cards right. So you tilt your head, and you smile.

There's something different in the way he looks at you now. All of that edge melting into desperation as he watches you, expectant, frozen in place.

Your hand lifts, slow and deliberate, brushing against the side of his neck. The tips of your fingers trace his jawline as he lets it hang open, breathing heavily, eyes lidded, waiting for your move. Your touch is featherlight, barely there, but Rafe chases it. It’s the only thing he does, he leans in, he breathes deep, brows furrowing. His breath stutters when you touch him, fully, your palm splayed against his skin. His throat bobs, his eyes flutter, but he's finally still.

Waiting.

Hoping. Like he’s letting you do this, instead of cajoling you into it.

You pull him by the neck, slowly, afraid he still isn't steady enough to weather any harshness, and he barely watches, his eyes already closed, opening ever so slightly when your mouth touches his.

A quiet, shuddering sigh spills from him before he can stop it. His fingers dig into you, into your sides, pulling you closer, his body pressing into yours like he needs this, like he needs you.

His lips part again, eager, desperate— But he doesn’t devour, he only melts.

His breath is warm, uneven, fanning over your skin with every shaky exhale. You can feel the goosebumps rising along his arm as you let your hand trail there, climbing farther up his bicep until you get to his shoulder, and let it travel to his neck. Rafe sighs again, crumbling in place, his hands gripping you like he's trying to memorize the feel of you beneath his fingers.

Then there's the sound— the softest, neediest noise from the back of his throat as your lips move against his. He's drinking you in, savoring every second, hands slipping lower, mapping the curve of your waist. His fingers press into the fabric of your top, clinging, grabbing, until he finds a single slit of exposed skin on the small of your back, and sinks his hands under the top like he wants to pull you inside out, like he needs more, like he'll never get enough.

You feel the conflict rippling beneath his skin— he's holding back even as his fingers dig into you, even as his lips chase yours as if he needs you in order to breathe. He sways slightly against you, melting into you, his body betraying just how much he wants this.

He makes another sound, this one closer to a moan, his lips parting further, his nose brushing yours as he leans in, chasing the warmth of your kiss as if he’s afraid you’ll take it away.

And then, you do. Just as quickly as you give, you take it back.

Your fingers tighten around his neck, taking a quiet gasp from his lips as you pull away. And Rafe remains there, unwilling to let go, his lips still parted, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. His eyes— dazed, glassy— flicker between your face and your mouth, trying to chase your lips back against his, hungry for more.

You don't give him the time to try again.

There are only two doors left. The double doors, and a single one, the one he’s pressing you against. You reach for the handle and turn it. Rafe stumbles into you, and you catch him, laughing again, though a little quieter. – C’mon, let’s get you to bed.

He nearly whines as you close the door behind him, but smiles stupidly when you press him to the door again.

His hand finds your waist, drifting upwards against your back, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. He’s still breathing heavily when he pulls you in, but you turn before he can dive into you, and his lips end up pressed on your jaw.

He lets you look around, but keeps you in place, hitting the light switch.

His room is wide, but it's cluttered. The walls, the floor, the furniture, the curtains—everything is bright white, like an asylum. It’s the kind of space that should feel sterile, untouched. But it isn’t.

Clothes are draped over chairs, magazines are thrown haphazardly on the desk, and the only pop of color that looks intentional—an unevenly sprawled blue duvet that hangs off the mattress—looks like it was barely considered, a half-hearted attempt at warmth in a place that rejects it, completely.

The mess isn’t overwhelming, but against all that blankness, every stray item sticks out like a bruise.

You feel Rafe’s hands on your face, his fingers stroking lightly against your cheek. – Like what you see? – He mumbles, looking dazed. – Feels like home, doesn’t it? – You think it's sarcasm at first, but with the way his eyes bore into you, you’re not sure you can laugh.

He’s still looking at you expectantly, as if trying to hypnotize you, but you take his hands, and you pull him in. – C’mon, Rafe, let’s lay you down.

He hums, fingers squeezing yours softly:

– I’m kinda sad, y’know? – He’s almost docile in the way he lets you lead him, eyes clinging to your every move, doing his best to be compliant.

You try to reward him with simple touches. Your hands bracket his shoulders, then drift down to his hands, and back up, leaving goosebumps behind whenever skin touches skin.

Rafe stands there for a moment, back facing his bed as you throw the duvet on the bed and adjust it. He only finally sits down when you put your hand on his shoulder again.

– You really wanted to go to that party, huh?

– Nah. I really wanted you to keep that top off. – He giggles, a feather-light touch as his right hand traces the hem of your shirt, a vice grip as his left cups your hip. – You have a tattoo. I like tattoos. – His right hand drifts upwards, to your collarbone, he reaches to push the sleeve off so he can see better. But you grab his hand again, and he keeps it there.

– Thanks. – Your voice is low, but not a whisper.

Rafe’s grin is sharp, his hand is clammy. And though he still hums when you draw patterns on the back of his hand, he stares at the ink on your chest with a shade of vitriol darkening his eyes.

– You know who has a tattoo exactly like yours?

Of course you do.

You freeze, movements stopping, and he turns his hand in yours to pull you closer, setting it in the dip of his neck. – Who?

– Your little buddy, JJ.

You try to keep your face smooth as you look at Rafe. – We got the tattoo together.

He nods, still smiling, but there’s something else there. – How’d that happen, huh?

That's too long a story to tell to a drunk man.

– Can you lay on your side for me? – He looks at you blankly for a moment, but does, and stays quietly, watching you kneel on the bed, next to him, and pull a pillow from the snowdrift of blankets and cushions sprawled around his bed. Rafe shifts a little forward, his chest pressing against your legs, allowing you to tuck the pillow under him. – Here you go. Is that good?

– It’s nice. Feels nice. – You note the way his eyes droop slightly, almost like he enjoys having you fuss over him. You make a move to step back onto the floor, but his arm loops behind your knees, his hand on the side of your thigh, keeping you in place. – I don’t know what it says, though.

– What?

– Your tattoo.

You swallow. – Of course you do. You saw it.

– Not really.

His hand reaches for your collarbone again.

– Rafe.

– Just let me see it. – He almost pleads, the smile on his face is so cajoling, so sweet. You move his hand, but it remains flush with your skin as you pull the fabric down just enough. – Viam–

– “Inveniam Viam.”

– What is it? – He whispers, fingers brushing the letters softly, insistently, as if they were braille, something he could only grasp by touching.

– The name of his dad's old boat. It just happened to be a motto I really liked. – His hands are warm, too warm, and the way he moves them, just shy of scrubbing, like he’s trying to wipe the words from your skin. – Its shorthand for a Latin saying: “Aut Inveniam Viam aut faciam”. It means “either find a way, or make one.”

Rafe’s eyes go round for a second, and he whispers the translation under his breath as he stares at the tattoo, savoring the words in his mouth.

– It's very… – He stares at the ink for a moment, as if searching for the right word. – proactive. – His eyes bore into yours. His hands are suddenly lighter, suddenly calmer. They don't press as deeply into your flesh. It's like you’re watching someone who's possessed: Rafe flitters back and forth between a nice guy and a manic creature. – It's not very JJ, though. He’s not that kind of guy.

You want to tell him that the motto is JJ to a T. That he’s the guy that does whatever it takes to get at what he wants, but just as the thought strikes, it becomes clear that it’s exactly right: JJ couldn’t find a way to Kie, so he made one, through you.

Whatever it takes.

Even if it takes using someone like a prop to throw around, and then tossing them.

– If you say so, Rafe.

– I do. – Hes’s staring again. – JJ’s a coward. He can’t stick to anything. He's not proactive. He just goes around throwing shit at a wall and hoping it sticks.

You don't say anything.

You don't know what to say.

A week ago, you would’ve thought Rafe was wrong. That he was just talking shit because he hated JJ, and he couldn't comprehend the person beneath the persona. Now you wonder if there truly is a ‘person’ —Something deeper than the antics JJ uses to woo people into thinking he's cool— That maybe that ‘persona’ actually is JJ, and you're the idiot trying to see something softer, sweeter, where there is not.

– You're staying, right? – The question startles you out of that thought. Rafe’s looking at you now, half his face squished against the pillow, and his fingers pull your sleeve back over the tattoo, as if he’s shutting the door on that conversation.

Your mind takes a while to process it.

– What?

– You’re staying. – A statement, not a question. You look at him for a moment, your brain flipping through all the possible responses he could have to a “no” before you can say anything. – You can’t go now. It’s late.

– Lay back, Rafe. – He nods, obedient, but his eyes betray a twinge of mistrust as they fall closed, then slit open, and close again. You look back at the bathroom door, ajar on the corner. – Do you need more water?

– I’m fine. D’you need clothes?

– Clothes?

– To sleep in. I can land you a shirt, if you want. – His hand brushes the fabric of your top, fingers tracing the collar, edging against your skin. – It gets really cold in here in the middle of the night. Of course, if you like to sleep naked, then I won’t stop you either.

You scoff: – And here I was, thinking there were no gentlemen left in this world.

– I aim to please. – He chuckles. His arm is still wrapped around the back of your knees, and he looks up at you, almost hopefully, an absent-minded smile on his face.

– I can’t stay, Rafe. – It would’ve almost pained you to say it, if it weren’t for his previous comment.

– Yeah, right.

– I’m serious. My brother’s probably crashing out as we speak. If I don’t leave now, I’ll probably only get there after midnight and God knows how long his little lecture’s gonna take.

– That sucks, y'know? I really wish there was a way that you could sleep right now and avoid a lecture from the jobless hobo that lives in your house. – He gasps dramatically, ignoring your clear lack of amusement. – Wait a minute! I know what.

– Hilarious. – You step back onto solid ground, but he holds onto you.

– You said you’d sleep with me. You promised.

You didn’t, though. But you were sure he wouldn’t appreciate that fact.

– Well, Rafe, sometimes I lie. – You chuckle, though there wasn’t much humor in your words, yet Rafe remains completely serious.

– You can stay. You’re already here. What else are you gonna do? Walk home? Alone there, at night, in the cold?

– It’s not cold, though.

– Yeah? And what if it starts raining? You’ll get— You’re gonna get sick. Then you’ll miss work, and you’ll lose your job. And then — then — Your jobless brother’s gonna have to figure out how not to starve all on his own.

You raise a brow, stewing in the intent behind his words for a second. – You’re not manipulative at all, are you?

– I'm Persuasive. – He corrects. – Because— Because I’m a proactive kind of guy, alright? And you know I'm right.

To your own chagrin, you do.

He is right.

It would be easy—so easy—to just lay back into the mattress beside him. To just fall asleep and put all your problems —John. Barry. JJ and Kie— on hold until you're in the mood to deal with them tomorrow. And maybe you like the way Rafe’s looking at you, like he needs you there.

But that’s exactly why you can’t stay.

Because everyone you know is already taking the easy way out, and so far, you've been the one that had to deal with the catastrophes that came from that. It was clear enough that none of them could deal with it on their own. So who was gonna help you clean up the mess if you chose the easy option and it eventually blew up in your face?

Not John.

Obviously not Barry.

JJ even less.

You have to do the right thing. Not because it's right, but because you don’t have another option.

– You are right. – You say, and he seems satisfied. This time he lets you step back onto the floor. He lets you step away. – But John’s still gonna be pissed in the morning, might as well get it out of the way now. – This time, you look straight at him. – I'm just…a proactive type of girl, y'know?

He isn't amused at your joke. More than anything, he seems frustrated. – Sleep tight, Rafe. Try not to toss and turn too much.

You open and close the door before he can say anything else, hitting the light switch on your way out.

It's 11:36. You step down the hall with light steps, and down the stairs with firm ones. The Cameron house is beautiful, you’ve always thought so, but like that, empty, in the dark, it looks like a husk. The shed of something that outgrew it, something that had nearly been suffocated within its walls.

You breathe much lighter when you step out through the back door, despite knowing you still have an hour long walk ahead.

There’s a feeling of surveillance in these suburbs, something Orwellian, dystopic. You cross the street, walking past perfectly manicured lawns and white picket-fences with the sense that someone’s watching you. Lurking somewhere.

Rafe’s light, the only light that remained on as you walked away, fades slowly in the distance with every step you take. The transition between the good and bad part of the island gets less subtle with every passing year: Vibrant green lawns become smooth, empty roads; those become overly curated golf fields, that become bumpy, broken roads, that finally become dirt paths and empty lots as you finally reach the Cut.

You try to glimpse at your watch in the all-consuming darkness. 00:04. You get startled by the nervous barking of a neighborhood dog every so often, but the farther you go into the marshes, the less you hear.

It’s 00:21 when the warm lights of your home finally peek through the thick leaves and endless trails around the riverbank, but there’s no comfort that comes with that realization.

The walk up to the porch seems to stretch for longer than the entirety of your walk before it, and you realize you’re dragging your feet. For a moment you ponder the possibility of going in through the back, just to avoid your brother. But it seems stupid. Childish.

For almost eighteen years you came and went through the front door. No one ever asked you where you went, who you were with, what were you doing. Nobody ever cared about what you did or didn’t do. Not your father, and damn sure not John.

You shouldn’t have to sneak into your own home just because he finally started caring.

And you shouldn’t be afraid to face him.

But you are.

The bitter smoke of marijuana still lingers about the ashtrays up front, ignited by a single recent spark that you can see bright as day when you stand before the door. John had probably just walked in, his impatience finally getting the best of him.

You click your tongue, and rub your temples, bracing for the impact to come.

A ceiling fan buzzes lazily in the distance, the creek of its rusty rusty metal blades cutting in every so often, like a pained squeak.

You realize that the deep breath you just took did nothing to help your nerves as you step into the living room to see it almost completely bathed in darkness. The kitchen light is on, but the warmth that bleeds in through the open door does nothing to ease the atmosphere.You feel like the first kill in an 80s horror movie, one foot after the other, the floorboards creaking under your shoes, the phone that buzzes on the dirty dinner table.

You reach for it. It’s not broken, no more than it already was. So at least you have that.

The screen lights up with a notification that vanishes before you can register it.

– So. How was it?

You have to breathe in so you don’t jump at the sudden question.

John stares at you from the couch, his jaw tight, his foot bouncing in a steady rhythm against the floor. JJ sits beside him, shoulders tense, hands clasped between his knees. He’s not looking at you.

You stop exactly where you were, heartbeat hammering in your ears.

The silence is thick, stretching between the three of you like a live wire.

– How was the night? Good? It's a little early to be coming home from a figure eight party. – His voice is steady, cold. But it isn’t calm. He’s staring through you, like he doesn’t recognize the person standing in front of him, like he’s never seen you in his life. – Maybe it wasn’t so good, after all.

You don’t wanna give into him. You know damn well that won’t make it any easier.

– This James Bond routine isn’t really your style, John. Don’t you wanna come right out with the accusations? Save us all some time.

He laughs, but the sound is bitter. Contained. More a scoff than anything.

You try to keep your composure, waiting for his words.

All you hear is JJ exhaling sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. John, though, doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. His foot just keeps bouncing, a barely restrained coil of anger.

– Who were you with? – he asks, voice low.

– I was with Barry.

– Bullshit! – John stands abruptly, and JJ stiffens beside him. The room is too small, too suffocating. – Barry just left. He was looking for you. Looked like he’d seen a ghost. So what? What’d you do?! Did you leave your best friend to go home with Rafe Cameron?! Is that where you were?

– I didn’t leave Barry. Barry left me with Rafe. I didn’t even go to that party.

– No?! – He laughs again, the sound reminiscent of a rattlesnake. You feel like he might pounce on you at any given moment. – So what? WHAT? You just stayed there? To do what? Fuck him?!

– Jesus Christ! – You exclaim. Your head is pounding. – I’m not the one whose fucking my way up the social ladder, John. You are! Don’t go around throwing stones from your little porcelain house, this shit isn’t cute anymore.

– Yeah! Because you hooking up with Rafe Cameron is just completely normal, right?! Is that why you’ve been acting so weird, huh?! Your drug dealer boyfriend wasn’t enough so you had to go and get yourself a psychopath too?!

– What the fuck is wrong with you?! Barry’s not my fucking boyfriend, John! We’re friends! It’s not my fault you’ve never managed to make friends with a girl you didn’t want to sleep with!

– FUCK YOU!

– No, fuck you! I didn’t sleep with Rafe Cameron, okay?! He was high! He was wasted! All I did was drive him home.

– Yeah right.

– That’s the fucking truth, okay?! If you don’t believe me, I don’t care! But don’t start accusing me of shit I haven’t done!

– I told you not to go!

You shift your weight. – And I told you this shit wasn’t your decision.

– That’s not the point! I tell you that Barry’s bad news, and what do you do?! You go out with him! I tell you that Rafe Cameron is a creep, and you go out of your way to be alone with him! And then you go to a party where I can’t even reach you–

– I DIDN’T GO TO THE PARTY! And you couldn’t reach me because YOU took my phone!

– That’s not the point!

You’re the one laughing now. – Oh, sure! What is the point then?! Please! Enlighten me!

– The point is that you’re doing this shit to piss me off!

– You are UNBELIEVABLE, John! Actually un-fucking-believable!

John lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. – Jesus Christ. What the hell is wrong with you?

You clench your jaw. – Nothing is wrong with me! I just don’t need you making choices for me! You never did before!

– Are you kidding me?! – He gestures wildly. – You were the one who left with Barry and Rafe Cameron. How am I supposed to trust you when these are the choices you make?! Do you even hear yourself?

– They’re not as bad as you make them out to be.

John looks at you like he doesn’t even recognize you. – You can’t be serious.

JJ shifts beside him, eyes flickering between you both, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He still hasn’t said a word.

– You don’t get to tell me who I can be around, John. – you say, trying, but failing, to keep your voice even. – You don’t own me.

His face twists. – It’s not about that!

– Clearly it fucking is!

– It’s NOT! It’s about the fact that you don’t fucking listen, – He snaps. – I told you not to go, and you did anyway. Like it was nothing. Like my opinion—like my concern—doesn’t mean shit to you.

That stings.

Your voice softens, just slightly. – That’s not fair.

John exhales sharply, shaking his head again. – No. What’s not fair is me having to sit here, wondering if I’m gonna have to drag your ass out of some mess Barry and Rafe got you into.

– Oh! You’re gonna drag me out of a mess?! YOU ARE? I’m not the one who’s getting detained every other day, okay! I’m not the one who has to be bailed out of stupid, or worse, illegal, situations, John! That’s you! That’s all you! My friends aren’t getting me arrested!

– You don’t have any friends.

The words hang in the air, heavy and final.

You inhale slowly.

John’s watching you, waiting for you to say something—anything—that’ll make this argument last another hour. Something he can use to make you the guilty party whenever he needs you to bail him out of stupid situations again.

But you don’t.

And you won’t.

The silence stretches.

JJ shifts again. His knee bounces.

John clenches his jaw, looking away. – Whatever.

That’s all he says before he turns and disappears down the hall, his bedroom door slamming shut behind him.

JJ exhales, rubbing his face with both hands. He still doesn’t look at you.

You stare at the empty hallway. At the door that won’t open again tonight.

And you wonder why it still feels like you lost.

– You shouldn’t have done that. – JJ’s voice is barely above a whisper. He finally raises his head to look at you, his expression worried, almost saddened. Like half of this isn’t his own fault.

– I’ll take a lecture on things I shouldn’t do from a lot of people, JJ. I’ll even take a page out of my brother’s book. But I don’t wanna hear shit from you.

His blue eyes are narrow as he sits there, brows furrowed, hands clasped. He looks like a beggar. The analogy isn’t very far from the truth. All JJ ever does is take. He begs and he whines and he takes, and no matter how much you offer it’s never enough.

Because he doesn’t want your help.

He doesn’t want your time.

He doesn’t want your attention, or your affection, or whatever it is that you give to him for free.

He wants the validation of knowing he doesn’t have to do anything to get you to give him whatever he wants.

JJ exhales sharply, rubbing his face with both hands. You can feel the tension in the room shift slightly.

You’re tired.

Tired of him.

Tired of John.

Tired of this conversation.

You turn on your heel, but before you can make it to your door, JJ grabs you by the wrist, his fingers digging into you.

– Don't do this. – His voice is softer, quieter now, a hint of something vulnerable underneath the anger.

– What, JJ?! What am I doing?! – You snap, pulling your wrist from his grip, the frustration bubbling up again.

– You’re shutting me out! Again. – His voice drops to a near-whisper, and there's a flash of something else in his eyes—a mix of hurt, of something darker. His hand doesn’t let go, but his grip loosens just slightly, like he’s unsure of himself now. You feel his breath, warm against your skin, as he takes a step closer.

– I’m not doing anything to you, JJ! Let go of me! – You try to back away, but he steps forward, into you, pressing you against your door. The space between you feels thick, too charged.

– You are! – His tone is exasperated now. He's persistent, almost pleading, as if he’s trying to make you understand something he can’t put into words. His hand moves up, brushing your arm lightly, and you feel his gaze on you, unsettling in its intensity. – You know exactly what you do to me! But you're still brushing me off! – He glances over at John’s door, pulse quickening. His voice lowers even more, as if the very air in the room is thick with unspoken words. – Let’s just talk... in your room, okay?

– No. – You say it sharply, not even thinking about it, just wanting the space between you both. – I’m going to my room. And you can fucking leave.

JJ’s eyes flash, but it’s not the rage you expected. Instead, there’s a faint shadow of something deeper, something more twisted beneath his frustration. His jaw clenches, and you see that strange desperation flare up in him again.

He only scoffs at you.

Like the mere suggestion is ridiculous. – Stop acting like a child! This shit isn't fucking funny, okay?!

– Get off of me!

– Oh yeah? Is that what you want?

– It's what you're about to do, right now. Get the fuck off of me!

JJ takes a step back, hands up in mock surrender. And you don't wait for him to change his mind. You turn the handle, and step in.

But you barely have the time to brace yourself before he’s right there, his body pressed against yours, his chest against your back as his arms come around you to slam the door shut behind him. You gasp, caught off guard by how close he is—too close. The heat radiating off his skin, the thundering beat of his heart, and the tension in the air suffocates you as he pulls you toward him, his breath hot on the back of your neck.

His grip on your arm is iron, dragging you back with him until your body is flush against his, barely any space between you. The overwhelming closeness, the way his chest rises and falls against your back, makes your mind race, your heart pounding even faster in your chest.

– I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but isn’t fucking cute anymore, okay?! – His voice is low, rough, as if it’s a demand rather than a question. The intensity in it has your body tensing, your pulse skyrocketing.

You can feel every inch of him pressed against you—his chest, his legs, the creeping feeling of his hands as they climb up against your neck—and it's too much. You instinctively shove at his chest, desperate to put some distance between you, but he's relentless, his grip tightening as he pushes you further into the room.

You stumble, your back hitting the door with a soft thud. But there's no escape, not with him this close. You can’t breathe, can’t think straight with him so near. His eyes lock onto yours, unwavering.

– Stop it, JJ this shit isn’t funny! –You try again, more forcefully this time, your hands pressing against his chest. – Let go of me!

But he doesn’t, his body still caging you in, his face just centimeters from yours. His breath is shallow, and for a moment, it feels like the world has narrowed down to this single point of contact.

– Not until we talk. – he murmurs, his voice rough, almost desperate. He doesn’t back away, his proximity overwhelming in the silence that follows.

[exhaustedpirate]

someone to take care of you

my offering for day 1 of @bucktommyfluffebruary decided to make tommy even more exhausted than he was on the hospital scene so that buck has to manhandle his boyfriend ¯_(ツ)_/¯ basically tommy was fighting a wildfire for three days and buck takes care of him when he gets back!

rated T | 2918 words also on AO3

Tommy hasn’t had a proper rest for the past 72 hours.

He is aching, burning, he is in agony. His bones ache under his skin, his muscles burn from exhaustion and his body is begging him for rest.

He doesn’t remember getting home until he is standing in his driveway, an engine full of equally tired firefighters carefully driving down the street. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with smoke-free air and forces himself to leave behind the hell he just escaped.

Tommy passes by an unusual Jeep parked in his driveway while he drags his feet towards his front door, his brain struggling to give him the answers he needs. It’s only when the door opens before he can muster the strength to take the keys from his pocket that it hits him.

Evan.

Whose brow is furrowed with worry and whose mouth is a mix of contentment and concern. He is wearing one of Tommy’s shirts and gym shorts, both in a rumpled state. He smells of sweat and cleaning products and it takes him another second - Evan has a key.

Of course he does, they exchanged keys the week before. Tommy had told him that he would be on call in the midst of wildfire season and the way Evan’s face had been the definition of worry had tugged at something in his heart. It was easy to pluck the spare key from the drawer and pass it to Evan, it was easier still to add his spare key to his keychain. 

It’s both a blessing and a curse to see his boyfriend of two months. 

As Tommy wraps his arms around Evan and buries his face on his neck feeling the way the other man’s arms wrap around him just as tightly, he finds himself elated to not have to ask for this, to have his presence so conveniently within reach. But as he clings and melts in the warmth, Tommy feels his exhaustion settle deeper in his bones, chastises himself for being tired, for not taking advantage of every moment spent with Evan, of not being present.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” Evan whispers in his ear, worry giving way to relief, his fingers digging into the sweaty strands of Tommy’s hair. “I saw the news and as soon as I was off I came here,” There is apprehension in his voice as if concerned he might be too much but Tommy just grabs him tighter. “I cleaned your whole house.”

Tommy lets out a tired laugh against the skin of his neck before kissing it, feeling the way Evan shivers under it. He understands the concern, the worry, the desperation. There were many times he wanted to drive towards the 118 after hearing some of their crazier rescues on TV or over dispatch but stopped himself - focused on work, tinkered around a car or punched his worries away. Something warm settles in his chest when he realises he gave Evan the confidence to seek him out, to ask for more.

“I’m very happy that you’re here,” Evan’s body relaxes at his confession and he buries his face on his neck, uncaring for the smell of smoke and sweat. “But I don’t know if I’ll be the best company today.”

Evan breaks the hug and smiles at the soft whine of protest that leaves him unbidden. His hands cup Tommy’s cheeks and he closes his eyes at the way Evan’s thumbs caress the bags under his eyes. 

“I’m off for the next 36 hours,” Evan explains and Tommy opens his eyes, giving his boyfriend all his remaining attention. “I’d like to take care of you.” His tone is shy and it clenches something in Tommy’s chest. 

He’s not used to being taken care of. 

“Evan-”

“You took care of me before,” The other man interrupts his half-hearted protest, finger over his lips. “I want to take care of you too.”

How can he say no to that?

His eyes are wide, unsure whether to believe Evan’s words, the determination in his eyes, the strength in his tone. But he nods, his exhaustion letting that part of him that craves, that yearns, take over his decision. Evan’s smile is blinding and it soothes an ache inside him.

His boyfriend takes his hands and pulls him inside his house, the smell of cleaning supplies and air freshener in every square inch. Evan’s presence is noticeable all around, his boots now sit neatly next to the other man’s shoes, there’s a book he doesn’t recognise on his coffee table and a coat on the back of a kitchen chair. Evan is taking space in his home.

Tommy wishes he would take it all.

Thankfully, he doesn’t say what his sleep-addled mind fantasizes and simply lets Evan guide him towards the second floor and into the bathroom. His eyes blink into awareness as he’s sat on the closed toilet lid, and he looks up at the other man realising that he’d asked him a question.

“Wh-What did you say?”

Evan’s patient smile only makes him feel worse. How can he have such a wonderful man in his house without paying him every drop of attention?

Hands on his cheeks interrupt his chastising thoughts. Evan kisses his forehead, his nose, his cheeks and finally a chaste kiss to his lips. Something inside him purrs at the care, at the affection and he feels that little bubble of shame pop into nothingness. 

“I asked if you wanted help taking off your clothes so you can take a shower.”

He blinks his eyes a few times before he slowly pulls off his coat, slow movements like moving through sand and when it’s off, there is a small pinch to the other man’s brow. Tommy takes a breath before pulling up his t-shirt. It goes over his head and he notices that Evan is closer than before. Oh, he helped him.

Evan watches him a second before he nods resolutely. “I’m showering with you.” He declares, pulling off his (Tommy’s) shirt.

“Evan, no,” Tommy protests even as his eyes roam the naked expanse of his boyfriend’s chest. “I’m capable of showering by myself.”

“Tommy,” The other man’s tone is patient but he raises an unimpressed eyebrow as he places his hands on his hips. “I feel like you’re going to fall in the shower if I leave you alone in there and I really don’t want anyone from the LAFD to see your dick except me.”

Tommy lets out a surprised guffaw and Evan’s lips twitch as he tries to keep the chastising expression on his face. He looks up at his boyfriend with a soft smile. “You really don’t have to, babe.”

“I want to,” Evan’s face softens and he helps Tommy to his feet. “Besides, I smell like bleach and sweat, not exactly a sexy combination.”

“I don’t know,” Tommy sways closer to his boyfriend, maybe on purpose, maybe accidentally. “You always smell great to me.”

Evan laughs as their noses bump into each other, a betraying blush covering his cheeks. “You look like you’re five seconds away from falling asleep, Tom, you have no purpose being so charming.”

Tommy laughs with Evan, nodding in reluctant agreement. There’s a press of lips against his before his boyfriend begins unbuttoning his trousers, letting them fall to his feet before pulling down his boxer briefs. With a stabilizing hand on the sink, Tommy steps out of the fabric pooled at his ankles with Evan’s help. While crouched, the other man also takes off his socks and, even naked, Tommy still feels the weight of the past few days.

Evan stands and holds his hands to help him into the shower base. He feels a little annoyed at needing so much help, at feeling so useless and weak but then he looks at Evan’s face, the soft look in his eyes, that beautiful smile and he forces that part down, pushes it away.

It’s okay to ask for help, his therapist once told him. It’s okay to let others take care of you.

His boyfriend discards his clothes quickly so he can join him. Evan turns on the water and carefully maneuvers Tommy under the spray once it's hot enough. It feels so good that Tommy lets out a contented moan. His bones melt under the warmth and he feels Evan’s chuckle like a cold drink in a hot summer or whatever other ridiculous thoughts come to mind when his boyfriend laughs.

“That feel good?”

Tommy hums as Evan joins him under the spray, their bodies close together and he has never been so happy that he upgraded to the wide shower head when he redid the bathroom. Evan had also been very pleased to see the size of his shower the first time he came over, they have found many satisfying ways to make use of the space.

It feels different now, to be so close, so naked and wet and to feel so cared for, without any expectations. All he needs to do is stand there as Evan grabs his shampoo and massages his scalp. It draws another moan from his lips and he takes hold of the other man’s hips with how much he sways in place.

Tommy lets himself be moved, lets Evan run through every inch of his skin with a loofah, lets the scent of his citrusy shower gel fill his nose. He lets himself enjoy the closeness of Evan’s body, his careful touches, his soft words, their chaste kisses. Everything is soft, warm, relaxing and he would really like to have this all the time.

The water shuts off and Tommy blinks his eyes open to look at Evan’s smile. Such a good smile. His boyfriend blushes and he realises he must have said it out loud. But Evan presses their lips together to stop any excuses or apologies to come out of Tommy’s mouth. Probably for the best.

“Don’t worry, babe, nothing you say while you’re this sleep-deprived will be admissible in a court of law.” Evan giggles and Tommy bites the inside of his lip to stop himself from gushing over it.

Evan helps him out of the shower and begins to towel-dry him. There’s still that niggling voice yelling at him for his ineptitude but then his boyfriend will smile up at him and that voice gets quieter and quieter.

It’s okay to let others take care of you.

Tommy has a towel wrapped around his waist and lets Evan guide him to his bedroom and groans as he sits on the bed, his body no longer used to the softness of the seat. He is flagging and Evan must know it because in no time, Tommy is wearing soft and clean clothes and he flutters his eyes awake to see Evan already wearing one of his hoodies and sweats. God, he looks good.

Tommy groans inwardly when Evan blushes again. “I have no control over this.” He mutters as an apology.

Evan smiles softly and runs his fingers down the side of Tommy’s face, he hums in pleasure at the touch. “I’m not complaining.” 

“I promise I’ll compliment you so much more when I can actually think again.”

Evan laughs and that warm feeling nestles in his chest. “I’ll remind you of that promise when you can actually think again,” Tommy nods and sighs at the soft kiss planted on his forehead. “Think you can stay awake long enough to eat one of the bacon muffins I made?”

“You made muffins?” Tommy mumbles and his stomach grumbles at the thought of food.

“I got an alert about the wind shifting directions and scrubbing the kitchen grout wasn’t getting the job done anymore,” Evan pulls him up to his feet and kisses the concerned wrinkles of his frown. “I made bacon, chocolate and rhubarb muffins,” He scratches at the back of his neck looking away with a blush. “Your freezer is a little full now.”

Tommy grins, incredibly fond of the man in front of him. He pulls his face up to by the chin to land a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. Evan sighs into the kiss and his shoulders relax. “I can’t wait to try them all, babe.”

Evan grins and lands a smacking kiss on Tommy’s lips that makes him laugh. “Come on, then!”

He’s seated at the kitchen table before he knows what’s going on. There was definitely a lot of stress-cleaning going on, his oven looks like it just came out of the store. But, despite the satisfaction of a clean house, all he sees is the stress he put Evan through. 

He thinks of oil stains in his hands. Of muscles aching from overwork. Of the beaten up state of his punching bags. Wonders if Evan would see the same.

The microwave beeps and then there’s the smell of a warm muffin in front of him, bacon wafting up to his nose. His mouth waters and the first bite is divine and he lets out a moan to show it. Tommy is only able to see Evan’s proud grin when he’s finished, licking his fingers to get the last of the taste.

“Good?” Evan asks, approaching him and running his fingers through his damp hair. 

Tommy wraps his arms around Evan’s waist, resting his chin on his belly and closing his eyes at the caress. “So good.”

Evan bends down to kiss his forehead, fingernails scraping pleasantly on his scalp and he hums sleepily. “I think I should get you into bed before you pass out.”

“That’s very forward of you, Evan Buckley,” Tommy mumbles, eyebrow raised even with his eyes shut. “I’m not that easy.”

Evan giggles and Tommy feels a small smile on his lips. “Alright, Thomas Kinard, I won’t take advantage of you.”

“Good,” Tommy forces his eyes open when Evan urges him to stand and accepts the soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “My boyfriend would kick your ass.”

Evan grins and pulls him towards the stairs again. “He would?”

“Oh yeah,” Tommy returns the grin, clinging to the last remaining energy the muffin gave him. “He’s got big muscles and these long ass legs, the whole package.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Evan is blushing even as he keeps the smirk on his face. “I think I could take him, you’re worth fighting for.” 

Tommy’s breath hitches at the honesty in his voice.

His boyfriend’s blush goes down his neck and he’s fairly sure it’s spread to his chest, he clears his throat. “You should brush your teeth before bed.”

Tommy goes in a haze, automatically brushing his teeth as his mind rushes through the idea that Evan would fight for him, that he was worth fighting for, worth keeping. Uh.

He walks into the bedroom to find Evan sitting at the foot of the bed, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Maybe he wasn’t expecting it either, maybe he regretted it.

“Evan-”

“I mean it,” Evan blurts out and Tommy quiets. “I did but we don’t need to talk about it tonight,” He stands from the bed to take his hands and pulls him towards the bed. “You need sleep and so do I.”

Maybe it wasn’t the time for a talk, Tommy was sure that he shouldn’t be trusted with words at the moment. But he didn’t want it to go unnoticed. He presses his lips to Evan’s in a soft kiss.

“Thank you,” He whispers. “Not just for your words but for taking care of me.”

“You don’t have to-” 

Tommy kisses him again, this time with more fervor, interrupting him. “Thank you.”

Evan nods and directs them to bed. The sheets are cold but they smell clean and fruity and his boyfriend is warm. Tommy sighs when they stop shuffling around in bed, his head resting on Evan’s chest and arm wrapped around his torso. Evan’s fingers run along his hair and he feels all the tension, the exhaustion, the anxiety, the unworthiness fall away from him. Evan’s touch is a balm to every ache, every wound and every hurt.

He falls asleep warm, content, happy. 

The sun is shining bright when he opens his eyes. A sigh escapes him at the satisfaction of a good night’s sleep and at the fingers casually creating shapes on his clothed back. 

Tommy looks up from the torso he used as a pillow the whole night to see Evan already awake, scrolling through his phone with a focused frown. His hair is messy from sleep, growing curls falling every which way. He’s been awake for a while, his eyes don’t hold that just-woke-up look they do when they wake up together. 

Evan’s been awake for a while but hasn’t moved because Tommy was sleeping on him. A warm feeling that feels a lot like showering together, like home baked muffins, like “you’re worth fighting for”, floods his chest.

Fuck…

Tommy might just be on his way to falling in love with Evan Buckley.

And, as if his emotional turmoil was loud enough for his boyfriend to notice, Evan looks down at him. His smile is bright and his eyes are focused on him. Tommy is having a little difficulty breathing but forces a deep breath when the other man’s hand moves up to his hair.

“Slept well?”

Tommy is definitely going to fall in love with Evan Buckley.

He smiles. “Wonderfully.”

Maybe it’s not so bad.

[skzdelf]

Dirtty Little Secret | Yang Jeongin

✧ PAIRING: Yang Jeongin x reader

✧ SYNOPSIS: Late at night, Jeongin and you share an intimate moment away from prying eyes, balancing on the edge of forbidden emotions. What begins as a simple agreement to keep things casual starts to unravel as Jeongin’s lingering touches and heartfelt gaze reveal feelings too strong to hide. (seconf part here)

✧ WARNING: Suggestive content, pet names, mention of alcohol

✧ WORDCONT: 1k (1060)

Our dirty little secret

Jeongin and you were on the sidewalk behind the bar. He was sitting on the curb, his head resting against the side of your thigh while hugging one of your bare legs with both arms.

He clung to it like a koala, as if he was scared you’d pull away and leave him there in the middle of the dark night.

The music from the bar was so loud it could be heard outside, where the two of you were.

You’d taken a small, secret escape to do something different—to have a little fun while keeping it your dirty little secret. Jeongin had drunk too much, and now he was begging you.

“Let me stay at your house, just for this night” he said in a soft, husky voice as he lightly rubbed his smooth face against your thigh, which was covered by a black skirt.

“You can’t stay the night, baby. I’ll call you a car” you replied, running your fingers through his hair as you grabbed your phone to open the Uber app.

You’d never intended for things to go this far. The longer you stayed out together, the more you risked being discovered.

Dirty little secret, can’t we keep it in the dark?

Jeongin pulled his face away from your skin, resting his chin on your skirt now and looking up at you.

His eyes, half-lidded from alcohol-induced sleepiness, were overflowing with emotion. They sparkled with affection and a silent plea to let him spend the night with you.

“Don’t look at me with those eyes, Innie,” you said softly, your hand now cupping his pale cheek, rubbing small circles with your thumb.

He closed his eyes, letting himself melt into your gentle touch. That was better for you—his eyes filled with emotions felt too real. It was easier when you didn’t know how he felt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in an even quieter voice. He knew you weren’t supposed to be “the one.” You weren’t supposed to fall for each other because none of this was real.

Let’s keep it discreet, sneaking out the backdoor

But the truth was, Innie had already fallen. He was so into you that you were the only thing on his mind during those lonely nights in his apartment.

No Uber seemed willing to take him home this late at night. You didn’t plan on leaving him stranded either—that would’ve been unethical.

“Let’s go to my car, Innie. Get up, sweetheart” you said calmly, though inside, you were frustrated. The risk of him being discovered and the two of you ending up in the spotlight wasn’t what either of you wanted.

Jeongin slowly stood, stumbling slightly in the process but always holding onto some part of your body—your waist, your arm, or your hand. Innie loved having his hands on you; physical touch was undoubtedly his love language.

But you didn’t want his attention right now. You liked it, but only when you were bored—just like he was supposed to want your attention when he was bored. That had been the agreement.

You were aware of how clingy Jeongin was. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or some developed feelings, but you were sure he wanted you to be his.

But that’s not what those calls to each other were about.

You both walked toward the car, hurried and clumsy on Jeongin’s part, with small giggles escaping from him along the way.

You helped him into the car gently, walking around to settle into the driver’s seat. Once inside, you let out a sigh and turned on the car’s interior light.

You thought about where to take Jeongin. You didn’t know his friends, and you were certain he wouldn’t give you his address, hoping you’d take him to your place instead. Turning to look at him, you found his eyes already fixed on you.

His warm brown eyes wandered from your eyes to your lips. You’d never met someone who could express so many feelings with just their gaze. Those glossy eyes looked at you with longing, as if you were something completely forbidden to him.

Don’t look at me like that, It’s just too real

“I really want to kiss you right now” he admitted, leaning closer to your seat, his hand adorned with silver rings reaching for you, gently grazing your cheek.

“This feels better when I don’t know how you feel” you whispered in the narrow space of the car, the warm artificial light illuminating just the two of you.

You didn’t pull away from his touch. On the contrary, you leaned in closer to him, his hand fully cupping your cheek and part of your jawline, your noses brushing against each other.

We don’t have to be in love

“We have to keep this discreet, Innie,” you said, consumed by feelings that weren’t supposed to come to light. You were intoxicated by his warm touch and expressive eyes.

“You’re so into me, just like I’m into you, love” he murmured, closing the distance between your lips.

Those sweet lips now carried the bitter taste of the gin he’d been drinking all night. Soft lips you loved to kiss, no matter how they tasted.

The kiss deepened, his tongue asking for permission to meet yours—a permission you granted, making the kiss even more passionate.

Jeongin’s hand, previously on your cheek, now rested on the back of your neck, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss, while his other hand clung to your waist with need.

You could hear soft, raspy gasps escaping from between his lips—beautiful sounds that made you press your thighs together.

Your fingers tangled in his black and white strands, occasionally tugging, drawing low growls from Jeongin’s now swollen lips.

Jeongin momentarily pulled away from your lips to catch his breath, his hand, which had been on your waist, now trailing to the hem of your cropped top, caressing the area before slowly sliding his fingers beneath the fabric.

“My dirty little secret” he whispered against your lips, now red and glossy from the exchanged kisses, before devouring them again—this time with a hungrier, needier passion.

The air inside the car grew heavier, charged with a palpable desire. The windows began to fog up, drawing a veil that isolated the outside world, helping you keep your dirty little secret.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

In League – Mend (Bath pt 2)

Masterlist

Immediately following this, time for a little wound care first-aid. Late-19th century, indentured servitude, power imbalance, past-noncon implied, carewhumper/sympathetic whumper dynamics. Beta read by @alittlewhump!

Wyatt lends August as much time as he can. The younger boy’s arms locked around his neck, forehead resting at the base of his throat. His back aches from holding them both above the steaming water earlier, sweat prickling along his spine. The fabric of his shirt adheres to his skin under August’s damp skin, wet hair tickling his jaw, too hot-breath trapped just beneath Wyatt’s collarbone. He lets himself stifle until he can scarcely breathe. 

“I’ll need you to release me if you want something dry for when you get out,” he finally grates. 

“Oh—” August straightens immediately, dropping his hands and startling when they hit water. “I’m sorry. Of course, sir. I forget myself, I’m sorry, sir.” 

“None of that.” He clears his throat. Forces air into his lungs against the feeling of confinement to better soften his voice. “You’ve done well, lad.”

August looks away, uncertain in the face of an admonishment and a compliment. He slowly draws his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around himself with a shiver. 

The afternoon has worn thin by now, the fire mere embers in the hearth. Without a pause to turn on a lamp or light a candle, the room fell into an early twilight. Meanwhile, the light from the window tells of a brilliant sunset starting beyond but the angle is all wrong to benefit from any of the glow. 

Wyatt bundles August in the bath linens Midge set out and ushers him to sit on the bed while he adds coal to the fire. He lights the lamp on the bedside table, favouring a warm flame over the electric. August tries to hide his flinch when Wyatt strikes the match, flicking his eyes away as though he hadn’t been watching closely the whole time. He’s desperate for a smoke—and a drink for that matter—but decides better of it, not wanting to push August more than he already has to. 

“Shall we see to your hip?”

August shrinks against the wall. “Nnn-no, no, no more.” Tears spring to his eyes and he pulls all the linens trying to bundle himself tigther. “I can’t—I can’t take anymore. Sir, I beg mercy of you, please—”

Evidently, August’s nerves are just as spent as Wyatt’s patience. The faster they get this over with, the better. 

“Easy…” He takes his hands out of his pockets, holding them out in a gesture of goodwill.

It takes a moment but awareness finally breaks through August’s fear. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t—I won’t—” Not enough awareness evidently, since he’s apologising for shying away even though he feared pain. It’s been beaten into him that such a misstep will cost him even more dearly. He visibly flinches as he pushes himself back to the edge of the mattress, closer to Wyatt. “It’s—I’ll—Please, please, forgive me—”

When Wyatt continues to give him space to settle, he panics. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats urgently. His hands untangle themselves from the linens, lifting as if to reach for Wyatt but he stops himself, folding his shaking fingers on his lap instead. “Please, sir. I’m sorry for being so much trouble. I’m thoughtless and difficult and I dishonor your generosity—”

“August, enough.” Wyatt finally interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I understand you are afraid. I understand you do not yet fully trust me. You have equal rights to both and need not excuse yourself further. I promise you, I do not take either as an affront to my person. There is no need to continue debasing yourself with this litany of apologies.”

It may well have been a slap. August looks down, nodding once. He won’t meet Wyatt’s gaze as he stands to shuck off the linen sheets. His fingers hesitate at the waistband of the still-damp drawers and he curls them into fists when they begin to shake. He makes a sound in his throat, a half-whimper that’s probably a swallowed apology.

The boy looks wretched. Trapped wrestling with his own will, having just been stripped of his only defense or safety by Wyatt’s ill-timed directness. 

Wyatt takes a measured breath, releasing his clenched jaw to make his voice softer. “It’s all right, steady yourself. Just one thing at a time, lad.” He reaches past the younger boy to pull one of the linens off the bed but August recoils so much at the proximity he nearly falls into the gas lamp before Wyatt catches him around the waist. 

Instead of panicking even more at the contact, August buries his face in Wyatt’s chest, fists gripping his braces to pull himself closer. 

“It’s all right, you’re all right.” Wyatt’s never known someone so terrified of assault to be so equally desperate for physical comfort. He would have expected a strong aversion to the latter, a fact he need not dally on, especially now. He grits his teeth and indulges August a few more moments of shushing and rubbing his back until goose pimples begin to rise on the younger boy’s skin despite how much he clings to Wyatt’s warmth. “Come along. We’ll finish quickly and get you settled by the fire.”

“Yes, sir.” August whispers. He pulls back, red in the face and still averting his gaze as he releases his grip on Wyatt’s braces. He lets Wyatt reach past him for one of the linen sheets which he folds for August. He turns his back, even taking a few steps away to ease August’s fears, waiting until he clears his throat, apparently unable to find his voice to tell Wyatt he’s ready.

It’s a task in itself to remove the old bandage. Thankfully, Doc left a pair of shears as there’s no way in hell August could stand Wyatt using a knife. Nevertheless, he whimpers when the cold metal brushes his upper thigh and holds his breath until Wyatt’s through. 

The wound still looks as raw and painful as when it was cauterized but his leg around it is less red. 

“You’ll have to lie back,” he instructs as gently as he can. 

“I—of course. It’s—I—” August still won’t meet Wyatt’s gaze, an aversion that does him no favours as Wyatt watches his grow distant. The lad bites back at least a dozen more apologies as he tries to arrange himself, attempting to keep his shoulders and head propped with one arm behind himself, gripping the sheet between his legs with the other. But he doesn’t have the strength, besides the angle being all wrong. 

Wyatt forgets to stifle his sigh and August flinches. “On your side, lad.” 

August corrects his position as instructed, breath growing ragged as Wyatt prepares the supplies they’ll need. He should talk August through this, say anything to distract him, but he only finds himself growing angry. Angry at the cruelty that broke the trembling boy before him so that he awaits even basic care with fear. Angrier still at the man who caused all of that pain. 

August flinches when Wyatt dabs the wound to dry it, bending his knees as if to curl up before he catches himself. “Sorry—I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I swear it.” 

The pledge only makes Wyatt’s temper flare. Sworn rival and enemy aside, he’ll kill Keats the next time he lays eyes on him. 

When Wyatt touches him with the iodine-soaked cotton, August’s hand flies out to grip his wrist. His eyes widen and he releases his fingers from Wyatt’s wrist one by one, taking pains not to make another sudden movement.

“Sir, I—”

“I’m sorry,” Wyatt says, beating him to the punch. August blinks, hand still hanging in the air between them. “I should have given you notice. I know it hurts.” 

“No, I’m—” August finally meets his gaze and Wyatt wishes he hadn’t. Can August see he’s wrestling with ill-timed anger instead of comforting him? “It’s nothing.” 

He’s the one who should do better. “Here.” He holds out his free hand. August hesitates. “Take it, if it helps.” 

August does, gripping his hand tightly, probably as tight as he can, though it’s nothing close to strong. He works adamantly to keep himself quiet through the rest of the treatment. Wyatt can only imagine how badly it must hurt from the way he bites his lips together, tears escaping even as he pinches his eyes shut. 

“There, that’s it,” Wyatt says, discarding the cotton and putting the stopper back in the iodine.

August blinks quickly, dispelling more tears. Wyatt pulls him up slowly in case it’s from the fresh movement.

“It should hurt less the next time,” Wyatt says, if only to assuage his own concern. 

August looks down at his wound for the first time since they started. “It doesn’t—” He meets Wyatt’s eyes, a strangled sound escaping his lips. 

It’s all Wyatt can do to scramble for the wash basin and get it in the boy’s arms before he gets sick. 

“I’m sorry—” he starts gasping even as his stomach still tries, now in vain, to empty itself further. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

“Hush, lad. Hush.” He runs his fingers through the still-damp curls at the nape of his neck, waiting for him to find his breath again. 

August accepts a damp cloth to clean his face. Takes a sip of the water he’s offered. “I’ll clean it myself. Please, sir.” 

Wyatt tsks. “You’ll do no such thing. You’re staying in bed once your leg is redressed.” He tries to remove some of the impatience from his tone. “Midge will bring you some broth and then you can sleep or read, whatever you like, but you’re staying in bed.” 

“Yessir.” August turns away, hiding his face and the colour rising there. 

He deserves patience and kindness, especially since he’s already stuck with Wyatt for a nurse. As pathetic as it is, Wyatt knows he’d have more of both if he could have a cigarette. But they only have one task left and he August’s nerves are wrung out as it is. They’ll both just have to survive a few more minutes. 

“Think you can stand again?” He pulls August back to his feet. “You can hold my shoulder.” He kneels and August grips a fistful of his shirt instead, fingers finding their way inside his open collar. 

Just another minute. 

He undwinds the beginning of the clean bandage, carefully aligning it with the wound before letting it rest there. Unwinds some more length to wrap it behind—

August jumps out of reach, jerking Wyatt aside with him. He’s forced to crane his neck to avoid being choked. “August.” 

He releases him immediately. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.” His voice trembles. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean—Sir, truly—” 

Wyatt holds up a hand. “It’s fine, I’m fine. Let’s try again.” When August doesn’t immediately step back in front of him, Wyatt pulls him into place, making August gasp. 

“Sir, I—”

“Please, August. Just one more minute.” 

He takes his silence as assent. 

Wyatt begins again, aligning the bandage over his wound before continuing to wrap it between—

He prevents him from stepping aside with a hand on his good hip. 

“August. Take a breath.” 

August only whimpers above him, free hand fluttering as though he can’t decide between gripping Wyatt’s shoulder or pushing him away. 

“I’m trying to be as quick as I can. Just hold still and—” Again, August can’t stand his hand passing between his legs. He tries to twist out of Wyatt’s hold but with nowhere else to go, pitches over Wyatt’s shoulder. 

Wyatt lunges to prevent him from hitting his head on the soaking tub. August cries out, fighting against hands on him even trying to break his fall. When they hit the ground, Wyatt’s beneath him, face pressed between August’s bare chest and the thick carpet. His skin starts to teem. 

August tries to move but his arms are pinned between them. “I’m sorry—”

Wyatt shoves him off, getting to his feet and dragging August up by the tops of his arms in one swift motion. The boy yelps in surprised pain but Wyatt’s certain he’s not holding him tight enough to leave any mark. 

“Sir, please—” He whispers, fear thinning his voice as Wyatt heaves him onto the bed and lets him drop to a heap there. 

“Fuck,” Wyatt huffs, raking his hair out of his eyes and straightening his shirt. “Now you’re bleeding.” 

August’s eyes flick down but not long enough to truly appreciate the red blooming on the bandage, holding it in place despite the fall. He doesn’t dare take his eyes off Wyatt, not now. 

“It’s either me and you—” He jabs a finger at himself and then August who flinches at the gesture, terror plain in his face. “—or it’s the rest of the house holding you down again.” 

August shakes his head quickly, eyes filling. “Please, sir. I beg your pardon. I—”

He groans and turns away. His outburst has landed them back at baseless groveling, right where they started. He tries to pull in a deep breath but can still feel August’s weight, meager as it was, pinning him. He has to get out of this room. Just recenter himself and they can try anew. 

August sees the departure in his eyes as soon as he turns and rushes to right things. “Sir, please. Forgive me—” 

“August—”

“It was stupid of me, thoughtless and stupid.” Wyatt takes a step back but it only serves to carry August further from logic. “I swear I’ll do better. Please, sir. I don’t deserve it but please give me another chance.” 

“Enough—”

“Please,” August cries, voice breaking. He abandons the sheet and rises to his knees, holding out his arms to reveal their scarred undersides. “Punish me then, make me do it right. Sir, please—” 

Wyatt shakes his head and lets the overwhelming tide of defeat carry him from the room. 

Next...

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[wildsaltair]

not a day goes by that I don’t think about the fact that on top of everything else, Maximus slices his hands up grabbing the sword from the praetorian who was supposed to execute him. DOES HE NOT SUFFER ENOUGH FOR YOU PEOLE

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. play fighting with your lover quickly turns into you being pounded on the couch.

tags. (assassin!)toji x female reader. smut. dōggy style. age gap implied. with plot-ish. unprotected -> p in v. size difference / kink. power trip-ish. teasing. crēampie. dacryphilia. tummy bulging. p��ssy slapping. breēding mention. reader gets called ‘(little) girl, pretty, doll, slut.’ not proofread. wc: 3.4k

you let out a sigh of relief when your lover comes back home safe from another mission. toji’s risky job always leaves you anxious, knowing what could happen to him if things took a turn for the worse.

“keheh, there’s my pretty girl,” toji grins as he feels you jump into his embrace the instant he steps into the living room. your arms wrap around his waist and your head rests against his chiseled chest. he’s sweaty and bloody, yet you can’t care less. you’ve waited all day for him.

you tilt your head back and give the black-haired man a quick, passionate kiss. he returns it with equal force before picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. once toji put you down, he reaches a hand out to lazily ruffle your hair, “i’m g’nna take a shower, yeah?”

you shake your head and grab his hand before he can think of moving away. “no, want you to stay. just for a little more,” you attempt to coax toji into staying with you for a bit more.

“after i take a shower, doll. i probably smell ‘n look like shit,” the assassin mumbles in a low tone. his hair is wet with sweat, black locks sticking to his forehead. his compression shirt is torn in some places, but it’s neatly outlining his pecs, which makes him look ten times more attractive.

“nu-uh, you don’t,” you refute and tug at toji’s wrist again. he playfully rolls his eyes after giving in to your innocent request. you clearly don’t mind the sweaty state he’s in. you just want to cuddle up and talk to him about all kinds of things. “you look as handsome as ever,” you smile at him once you straddle his lap. toji’s hands find your hips, his nails ghosting over your skin to send shivers down your spine.

“heh. that ain’t nothin’ new,” your lover leans his head back with a cocky smirk. he knows how much you love it when he’s all sweaty and tired. toji never fails to spot the way your eyes wander up and down his muscular figure whenever he’s wearing that signature outfit of his. a black compression shirt that defines his pecs and white-ish baggy pants. you love it.

your fingers trace circles over his chest. you don’t seem to care about the random crimson droplets on his skin. they’re not his, thus you let it go. asking questions about the job he’s finished will only ruin the mood you’ve set. plus, toji clearly needs some distraction from the fact that his limbs are aching. he’s outdone himself today as well.

“you tired?” you ask through a soft murmur. your boyfriend nods while yawning, teasingly pinching your cheek afterwards. “mhm,” toji hums while playing with the collar of your shirt, eyes wandering down to your tits. one of his most favorite spots on your body.

you’re clearly not wearing a bra and it’s making it difficult for him to stay focused. your nipples push against the material of your pyjamas so deliciously, just begging to be touched by his fingers. he quietly clears his throat and looks the other direction to play it off.

“oh?” you giggle and tap toji’s cheek twice to gain his attention, though with no success. he’s trying his best to come off as nonchalant as possible—to remain that stoic man he’s always been. his attempts are proven futile when you press your breasts against his chest.

“come on, babe. look at meeee,” you laugh and resort to tickling toji’s belly and armpits. he freezes for a second before scoffing at your actions, his hands immediately rush under your shirt to tickle you back. you end up squirming on his lap, trying to swat his arms in attempt to defend yourself.

your lover lets out a haughty chuckle as you become defenceless because of his well calculated revenge tickles. “mm? didn’t hear ya, y’ should speak up,” toji teases you, clearly seeing how you’re struggling to talk as he makes you squeal and laugh uncontrollably.

there are tears forming on your eyes. your breath comes in short gasps when you finally find a chance to jump off toji’s lap. “shut up, fushiguro!” you call out, going back to last name basis, which you know toji dislikes. you stumble back a little and stick your tongue out at your lover before fleeing the scene. or at least you try to.

“fushiguro, aye?” you hear toji’s voice right behind you, and when you turn around to face him, he’s already got you caged in his arms. you gasp and kick your legs, hitting him in the shin. the man groans at the contact and loosens his grip a little. you take the opportunity again, jumping onto his back, clinging onto him with your legs around his waist. you encircle your arm around his neck and catch him off guard with a surprise headlock.

“hehe, got you now,” you grin smugly. toji’s not giving his best, you know that, because you’d be on the floor if he did. he’s allowing you to have fun and he’s indulging you, which you more than so appreciate. “what? cat got your tongue, big boy?” you continue challenging him, proud of your little achievement.

you’re painfully oblivious to toji's struggles. how he's struggling with his inner desires, how his hands ball up into fists at his side. he can feel your body clinging onto him, your legs wrapped so tightly around his waist. it’s adorable that you find so much joy in having the upper hand over a grown man like him.

adorable, and such a huge turn on.

toji can’t believe that he’s getting a boner from just playing with you like this. maybe it’s your body that’s pressed against him so snugly, letting him feel every feminine curve or maybe it's the fact that he knows he can easily pin you to the ground and show you what a real man can do until you're begging for mercy.

your nipples are pressed against his back and it’s so hard to act like he can’t feel that. it’s hard to believe you’re not doing it on purpose, but you truly aren’t.

“careful,” toji comments in a husky voice. the corner of his lip twitches, his eyes hidden behind his black bangs, “y’ might start something you can’t finish.” you figure that it’s just bait to scare you off, so you don’t take it seriously. you tighten the headlock a little, biting toji’s ear and nibbling on it as revenge.

“you’re not scaring me with that,” you chuckle and pinch toji’s cheek with your free hand. the older man turns his head slightly, catching a glimpse of your mischievous grin. oh, how cute.

with a swift, fluid motion, toji reaches up with both hands and grasps your thighs firmly. in a heartbeat, your positions reverse and he pins you to the nearby wall. both of his meaty arms cage you in by pressing against the concrete on either side of your head.

“seems like i’m the one who got ya now, doll,” toji murmurs, his voice low and laced with a hint of lust. he gazes down at you, your faces mere inches apart. you can feel his breath fanning against your lips. he’s itching to claim your mouth so, so bad.

but before he can capture your sweet lips with his, you catch him off guard by pushing your full weight forward, causing toji to lose balance. he tumbles backwards onto the carpet below with you on top of him.

“nope, am not giving up so easily,” you giggle as you try to grab at his wrists. you’re oblivious to toji’s desires, too focused on overpowering the man who could snap you in half. it’s fun when he allows you to take control.

however, your lover is slowly losing his rationality. you’re seated on top of his abs and he can swear he can feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes. it’s the only thing he can focus on at that moment. the only thing he craves.

“fuck, c’mere,” toji growls and rolls you over so you’re pinned beneath him on the floor. he can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips when your laughter echoes throughout the living room. even through his lustful haze, he finds your joy thoroughly endearing.

you manage to find another opening and roll over again so you’re on top of him instead. the cycle continues for a few more seconds, your bodies lost in a tangled mess of limbs. you exchange gasps, grunts and giggles while you’re ‘fighting’ for dominance.

when you bite on toji’s shoulder as a way to catch him off guard once more, he hisses. not in an annoyed or pained way— no. he’s so turned on that you biting him sends a jolt of pleasure right down to his aching cock. so turned on that he may accidentally have developed a new kink in that same second.

either way, that little action was his last straw.

toji effortlessly lifts you up on the couch, your body bouncing a bit on the plush cushions as he turns you around on your stomach. one arm hooks around your neck, his bicep pressing against your throat. not enough to hinder your airway, but enough to send shivers down your spine.

“told ya to b’ careful,” toji grunts, his breath against your sensitive skin from behind, “y’ should start listening to me more.” his tongue flicks out and licks a stripe up your ear. his crotch is pressed right against your ass and only then do you notice his raging hard-on.

your eyes widen, cheek smushed against his muscular arm wrapped around your neck, keeping you in place beneath his big body. “oh, fuck, toji,” you let out a shuddering breath. you’re completely engulfed by his large frame—disappearing out of sight. just how he likes it.

“yeah? feel that?” toji grins as he squeezes his bicep around your delicate throat some more. you gasp and whine, turned on by him overpowering you, as much as you had been enjoying the opposite just seconds ago. he mocks your earlier words with a grunt, “think i have’ta remind my lil’ brat exactly what this ‘big boy’ can do to ya.”

and the older man wastes no time to do exactly that.

your shorts and panties are tossed carelessly on the carpet, your cheek smushed against the cushions that you’re desperately gripping. your face is contorted with pleasure, brows furrowed, eyes glazed over and your swollen lips parted to take shallow breaths.

you can feel the ache in your lower back. the arch of your spine is nearly unnatural as your ass is pushed so high up, bouncing back to meet the mean backshots your man is giving you.

“ah, ngh! t—toooji,” you mewl loudly, droplets of saliva trickling down from the corner of your mouth. you can’t deny that this entire situation has you soaked.

the switch toji went through, from being playful and letting you do what you want to reminding you who’s boss at the end of the day— it’s perfect and feels way too good. the cherry on top is the familiar scent of his body, the sweat mixed with his cologne.

it adds to the pleasure, makes you dizzy in a good way.

toji grips your waist, his manly hands trailing down to your hips every now and then for the extra leverage. his fingers dig into your soft flesh as he pounds into you mercislessly, fucking into you like you’re his personal cocksleeve. “ain’t gonna try that again, are ya?”

“dumb lil’ slut,” your harsh lover grumbles under his breath, hand smacking the fat of your ass. toji loves seeing it ripple underneath him, even more so when his hips smack against your rear with strength that leaves your flesh stinging, “bet ya love it when i remind you who owns this cunt.”

toji groans as he slides his thick cock in and out of your tight cunt. you’re gripping him like you never want to let go, like you want to milk him of every drop of the cum stored in his balls.

the sight that he’s blessed with from his point of view can make him bust a load right then and there. you’re presenting your ass to him shamelessly, looking back over your shoulder with lust-blown eyes.

and don’t get him started on the outline of his dick distending your tummy, the one he can feel whenever he reaches a hand around to press against your lower abdomen and circle your clit. too fucking lewd.

“fuck, yeahhhh. take that fat fuckin’ dick, baby,” toji throws his head back as he pushes your body even further into the couch. you swear he’s folding you in half, “let me show ya what a real man in charge can do— how a real man fucks his woman.”

toji’s cock is ruining you, reshaping your insides to fit his massive size and you don’t mind it one bit. in fact, you love it. love the feel of him, the stretch and burn of his thick cock splitting you open.

“yes, mmh, yes! fuck me!” you keen, sobbing from the pleasure. your hand reaches back to scratch at toji’s arm, trying to hold onto him, to find him even in the midst of it all. the view of your desperation and your pleas makes him lose it.

the dark-haired man scoffs, “oh, i’ll fuck ya, all right. . .”

with a low growl, toji plants one foot on the floor next to you, his other leg still bent at the knee on the sofa you’re laying at. the muscles in his arms ripple as he lifts your hips even higher up to be able to meet his thrusts.

“fuuuuuck! right there!” you wail, your head trashing back and forth on the damp sofa. from this new angle, he can drive his fat dick into you even deeper, engorged tip hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see white.

toji revels in the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, mixed with your sweet moans. you seem so much smaller than him in this new position, your body helplessly giving in, allowing him to put you in whatever position he wants. it boosts his ego and makes his cock pulse inside of you.

he loves seeing the tears in your eyes as it nearly gets too much for you to handle. it motivates him to fuck you harder until you’re full on bawling, which he can easily get off on. making you cry in pure bliss is all he wants to achieve.

your pussy is tight as it clenches around his cock like a vice. toji’s hand slithers around to circle your clit, making your legs spasm and hips thrust back sloppily. “shitttt, y’r sweet lil’ cunt was made just for this—” he pants as his thumb presses against the nub, “to take my cock.”

all you can do is dumbly nod at whatever your partner says. “mmhm, ah yeah, made for you,” your small whines are music to his ears. the palms of your hands feel clammy as you hold onto anything you can grasp.

everything around you is a blur as the only thing you can focus on is the way his heavy cock fills you so well.

toji can feel your juices trickling down his heavy sack, soaking his thighs and yours, as well as the couch. it will leave stains, but he doesn’t care and neither do you.

“look at ya,” he huffs and slaps your clit once, callused fingers dragging along your puffy lips that are parted obscenely wide for his cock. toji brings his wet finger to his mouth to lick it clean. he hums satisfactorily at the taste, “pussy’s droolin’ aaaall over my dick. nasty girl.”

your pussy starts fluttering around his thick length as it impales you over and over. it’s a telltale sign of your orgasm, one toji has come to recognise quite easily.

“yeah? gonna make an even bigger mess on my cock?” he grins before pressing his chest against your sweaty back, blanketing your small body. the extra weight added to the ecstasy only makes you scream louder for him.

“yes, yes, yes! gonna cum!” you cry out, toes curling and eyes rolling back as you try to prolong your pleasure. even if it’s only for a second.

toji curses under his breath as his hips move faster to drive you over the edge. he can’t wait to feel your cunt get even tighter, to make it feel like you’re about to snap his dick off. he loves the pain mixed with the pleasure of your tightness.

“do it. cream all over me, c’mon, little girl. y’ can do it,” toji coaxes, delivering small smacks to your clit, causing your hips to jolt back with each slap. you can’t do it anymore— can’t hold on any longer.

you scream as you cum, your pussy spasming wildly around toji’s pulsing cock. that sensation alone has the older man gasping for air, nails digging into the flesh of your ass. no matter how many times he fucks you, the moment you cum, he automatically follows.

the way you squeeze his dick and hold onto it like you don’t want to let go is simply too much.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. g’nna make me bust a fat fuckin’ nut inside of you,” toji groans, his rhythm growing sloppy yet his thrusts are still deliciously hard, “gonna pump this pussy full of my load. breed ‘er nice and deep. shitt— take it!”

a strangled moan leaves his lips as he grinds his hips against your ass while his cock jolts inside of you. he pumps jet after jet of hot cum directly into your womb, tip rubbing against the deepest spot he can reach.

“eaaaasy, yeah, just like that. let it soak into ya,” toji hisses as his hips jerk erratically, “good girl. takin’ all of it so well.” it seems to go on forever as spurts of semen flood your insides for a good few seconds.

once your lover fully empties his balls inside of you, he feels himself grow weak. his thighs and arms tremble a bit from overexertion.

you collapse together in a sweaty heap, toji’s softening dick still buried deep inside of you. the only thing filling the room now is your heavy breathing as you slowly regain your composure. it’s quite a comfortable silence.

after a while, toji shifts. he pulls out with a wet squelch and watches with half-lidded eyes as thick, pearly globs of cum trickle down your slit. he grins lazily at the sight before turning you around.

you’re completely fucked out, it seems. your chest is heaving and your eyes are barely open. the trails of tears and drool on your face tells the man enough. toji wipes a stray strand of hair from your face with a haughty chuckle, “damn, keheh, fucked y’ real good. you okay though?”

you weakly nod in response before wrapping your arms around him. your hands rest on his broad back, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

toji hums and hugs you back, being careful not to squish you under his weight. he presses chaste kisses to your temple as he enjoys your frame molding perfectly against the hard muscles of his body.

“y’ did so well for me, little girl,” he comments gruffly, voice deep and a bit hoarse. you smile at the praise and murmur a small ‘thanks’. nothing is better than being able to feel safe with your lover after an intense session like that.

you pull back a bit and look up at toji with a little, playful grin. “guess i need to challenge you more often. felt too good, babe.”

toji lets out a small scoff and shakes his head. a ghost of a smirk appears on his lips as he slightly pinches your side. he holds you against his chest and buries his nose into your hair, sighing as he finally relaxes his weary body.

“y’ can try. might break ya for real next time, though.”

[versupital]

geeked up.

you fucked around and snuck him an aphrodisiac, so now all you’ve got to do is survive until the effects wear off!

content: smut, established relationships, bondage, edging, overstim, degrading, oral sèx, public sèx, exhibitionism, drüg/alcohol use, afab!reader, gn!reader on nanami, spit kink, masochism

incl pairings: kento, toji, satoru, suguru

word count. 8.3k

soundtrack 🌧️💿: sativa ft. swae lee

COCK THAT TEA / NANAMI.

A cup of hot tea. That's all Nanami had requested.

The lemon stimulant you’d mixed into the drink had made him wrap up his work early, clamoring downstairs, his eyes glassy with desire.

"Darling," he breathes out, staring at the floor, holding the cup in his shaky hand. "Are you busy?”

He’s so polite about it. At first.

“What ever is the matter, Ken?” you question, running your cleaning rag in slow circles over the dining room table, standing on your toes as you stretch across the surface. “I’m trying to clean.”

He nearly growls, eyes shutting and reopening with frustration. His fingers flutter at his side like butterfly wings and he takes a step towards you.

“I need to be inside of you,” he blurts, looking momentarily embarrassed before his face darkens, then he looks up at you with viper eyes.

“Right now?” you fake your surprise, walking around the table to stand in front of him. “But the dining room is so filthy…” You watch as his nostrils flare; he’s clearly taking in your scent.

“You know I would never force you,” he grits out, voice choked. “But also - mmh - p-pretty please?”

His arms come up, either side of you, and he moves to pin your body between himself and the table. He releases the teacup on the table and his fingertips grip onto the surface so harshly that his nails make tiny imperfections in the wood.

“My God, are you feeling alright?” you stall, pressing the back of your hand to his flushed forehead. “You look unwell.”

“I feel unwell, baby,” he says, tone serious and apologetic. “I feel like I might die if I can’t put my cock in you. That is unreasonable.”

Even as he says the words, it’s clear in his eyes that he doesn’t care how irrational it is. He wants to act on his urges so badly.

You rest your hand over the painful lump in his pants. “Is that so?”

“No, please don’t,” he breathes. “D-Don’t wanna lose my control…”

“You won’t,” you purr, slipping his zipper down. “You’re gonna be good and let me take care of you for once, ‘kay?”

His shoulders visibly slump a bit as the pressure from his hard cock is released by his unzipped pants. You take it a step further and dip your fingernails underneath the waistband of his Calvin’s, softly scratching over the blond happy trail.

“No, no,” Nanami’s head falls onto your shoulder, full body shudders coming out of him.

“I’m just trying to help, Ken,” you quip, rolling your eyes, moving to pull your hand out; but in the same beat his large hand clamps around your wrist and shoves it down deeper.

He jerks forward against you, a whine for help coming out of his mouth and landing breathily in your ear canal. You try not to shudder yourself, wanting to maintain the facade that you’re in control.

“Please, just take it out,” he begs.

How could you deny him? Your usually composed, control-taking husband is begging you for something. It breaks your heart as much as it nearly makes you cream your undies.

"Alright," you say calmly, clamping your fist around his shaft, squeezing harshly as you remove it from its barrier.

Nanami whispers gratefully in your ear - over and over - until it fades into moans, because of you sliding the pad of your thumb over his oh-so sensitive cockhead, spreading his precum all over the throbbing skin.

You have his heartbeat in your palm. You feel it racing faster with each stroke of your finger. The organ jerks in response and so does Nanami.

His hips begin to mindly grind back and forth, his torso rubbing yours, hardening your nipples and exposing your arousal.

You let his length slide in and out of your fist, and his hands grip onto your breasts like they can save him from ruin. His hair has fallen down around his head, sweat ruining his gelled style. He looks so desperate.

You'd only wanted to see if the aphrodisiac would remove some of his patience. He's always so kind, slow, gentle. You were writhing to see him lose control, have his way with you, rough you up. You’d hardly expected it to turn him this submissive and needy.

Fwip! Fwip! The sound of your top disappearing makes you gasp. You’d gotten too lost in thought and allowed him to get your shirt off, leaving you in just underwear.

Your thighs turn in on themselves, but they’re no match for his strength. It’s as if you'd let a feral panther out of its cage, his nails clawing at the waistband, threatening to shred it as his hips pick up speed.

On a whim, you release his shaft and put your palm to his tip, running it over the shiny pink skin. Nanami’s neck nearly snaps back. You rotate your palm over the tip and rip! his iron grip accidentally tears your underwear off.

He doesn’t notice, as he maintains his grip on the fabric with his eyes closed. He freezes in place as you violate his sensitive tip and the underside.

“Agh - shit, shit, nonono…” Nanami spits out.

Until finally he’s had enough.

In exactly three movements, he has your spine curved painfully against his torso, hand clasping a handful of your hair and pulling it against his chest, your shredded undies fallen somewhere on the floor. His groans in your ear are wet and raunchy, coming from the depths of his throat.

His cock pushes through your soaking ring of muscle, sliding through the ridges until it rams into your cervix. He has no regard for your pain level, punishing you even as tears brim your eyes. His hand cracks harshly on your asscheek, before scratching the sensitive skin and making you scream.

"My love, you feel so fucking good.” The lewd words leave his lips in an uncharacteristic way.

You want to roll your hips in time with his but he releases your hair and brings his hand around to cup your neck - faltering you as he thrusts deeper, the painfully solid cock violating your walls. If not for your pussy flooding the veiny organ, your entrance would be raw from the harsh stroking and lack of regard for your pleasure.

With a release of your throat, Nanami's hand moves to the back of your head and forces it down against the table, cheek pressed to the wood. You look at the abandoned drink at the other end. Now you’re watching as the cold liquid ripples through the teacup with each rhythmic thrust of your husband splitting you from hole to hole.

“F-Fuck, Ken, take it easy,” you whine, knowing it’s a full fib.

You want him deeper than he already is, cock bottomed out, heavy balls sticking to your clit each time he goes all the way in. Your internal organs feel like they’re being bent out of shape, pressure in your belly a bit painful, but mostly exhilarating.

“I-I can’t, baby,” Nanami grunts from above. “Your pussy has me so out of control.”

You decide to admit, in a sultry moment of regret what you’d done. Your pussy can’t take all the credit for making him this feral, can it? Nanami doesn’t respond much, but his cock begins to take it out on you.

His veins pop from his wrists as he pushes your head further into the wood, cheek squishing in on itself, muffling your sobs.

He moans in response to his new rhythm, grunting your name over and over, mixed with naughty minx, take me, feel good?, mhmm.

He hikes his hips at an upward angle and the new spot he's hitting is foul, causing you to scream so loud the noise reverberates off of the walls.

You put a leg up, knee to the edge of the table for stability. Your arms stretch across the surface and you feel drool trickle out of your mouth - your mind so fucked out that you can't even bring yourself to moan.

"Where's my spouse?" Nanami questions rhetorically, shoving a deep thrust in you while cracking his palm on your stinging asscheek. "Why can't I hear them?"

You swallow, trying to stop some of the drool, attempting to answer him but all that comes out is a guttural cry for mercy.

Nanami pretends not to hear it, and runs his nails along your pretty arched back.

His fingers yank your head in the direction of his old cup, “Be sure to look at what got you into this ordeal, dear. Stimulants in my tea, really?”

Your moans return when you feel the pool of fire deep within your belly, and Nanami feels you fluttering your walls around him in an attempt to fight off the orgasm. But he recognizes your moans all too well, so he drills his hips harder to push it out of you.

"Ken! No!" you cry, trying to hold it off, but just before you release he's spilling his own hot spurts into you.

You feel each rope hit the opening to your cervix and your cunt sends you into the harshest orgasm you've had your entire marriage; your one leg that remained on the floor giving out, leaving you to dangle on the edge of the table.

But Nanami's strokes show no sign of slowing down. You feel the veins in his cock drumming against your slick ridges, and his length remains solid.

“Mm, so much wetter now,” he notes, his cum nearly sticking his balls to to your clit every time he shoves his groin against your ass.

The noise that comes from your cum mixing together as lubricant is so nasty; it makes your toes curl as you lay on your stomach and continue to take the pain.

You’ll spend the rest of the evening begging him for mercy and not receiving it. When you think he’s finally done, he carryies you upstairs, telling you that he’s going to give you a massage to calm your strained legs.

But when you end up on your side as Nanami stuffs you full of kids for the sixth or seventh time, you realize the massage had been part of his plan, and he gives no hint that he’s near finished with you.

KNOTTY BOY / TOJI.

Toji had arrived home from work right on schedule. You'd been in the middle of preparing breakfast for dinner, the kitchen smelling of bacon grease and syrup.

He'd come in and given you a quick kiss, then disappeared to the back of the apartment to shower.

While he was gone, you'd finished cooking, and loaded his plate up with sausage, bacon, and eggs. Then, you plopped a tower of pancakes in the leftover space. This is when you ripped open a packet of honey from the gas station. You'd seen it on the counter one day whilst getting snacks and, you were curious to see if the rumors were true.

You’d felt a twinge of guilt as you drizzled the honey all over his pancakes and then hid your naughty work by covering it with maple syrup. It almost felt like drugging him, but you knew it wasn’t, and the worst that’ll happen is consensual rounds of sex. You’d disposed of the empty wrapper in the trash just in time.

Toji comes back from his shower with damp hair and oily skin, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts that cling low on his v-line. Your chest heats in response, but you maintain an innocent smile as you pad over to him with his dinner.

He sits down at the kitchen table, ready to dive into your delicious meal with a thankful grunt.

"Not hungry?" he questions, noticing that you remain standing behind him, rubbing some of the tension from his shoulders.

"I had a heavy lunch," you lie. "How was work?"

Toji pokes his fork into a sausage link before bringing it to his mouth, "Hot. Annoying. Lil' bitch Shiu was moaning about his sunburn all day."

You giggle, observing the darker shade on Toji's skin from where he has the privilege of tanning instead of frying in the sun. He's glowing like a cinnamon roll coated in sweet icing, and you want to drag your tongue over his moisturized torso.

"Well, least you're home now," you kiss his cheek. "I missed you. I hate when you have to work such long shifts."

He sighs. "Gotta do what I gotta do, puss. Have ta'make sure you have everything you want."

"That so?" you coo. "There’s something I want right now."

Toji reaches for the cup of orange juice you'd poured for him, thick eyebrow raised, “Spit it out.”

"Have you ever considered letting me tie you up? You know, 'stead of the other way around?" The words are out before you can stop them, and you're immediately writhing in regret when there's silence for several moments.

Toji takes a sip of the juice, and then turns to face you. "Needy brat, you thinkin' about tying me up while I'm tryin'a eat?"

You tap your fingers on his traps, trying to build a shovel to dig yourself out of this hole. "Actually, I've been thinking about it all day," you admit. "I was just worried you might be too tired for… you know."

His fork pokes into the pancake stack. You’re overcome with a sense of urgency. The minute he ingests the honey, the timer begins.

Toji chuckles and tilts his head awkwardly, rolling his neck. "You know I would never let you go to bed without a couple of nuts, ma." He takes a big bite of the cakes. "Didn't expect that, though.”

"O-Only if you want, of course," you throw out quickly, suddenly more nervous.

Toji swallows and turns to wrap an arm around you, pulling you flush against his body as he sticks his fork back into his food. "If you're gonna be in control, ya can't backtrack. Gotta stand on business.”

You swallow, "Well, unlike you, I need your compliance because I can't just throw you around like you weigh nothing."

Toji's body shakes against you as he takes another bite of pancake. You know the effects take a bit to kick in, but you aren't sure how much time you have left now.

"Would like to see you try to throw me around, though,” he says before adding, “do ya even know how to tie a knot, lil’ girl?”

"Of course," you say, offended. "I've watched you plenty of times."

"Usually while you're already on your second orgasm and cockdrunk, but..." he shrugs, "we'll see.”

You part from him, allowing him to finish his dinner as you collect the ropes from the closet. You untangle them as you wait. You're buzzing with excitement, blood pumping through your ears and your cunt, as you can already imagine his large torso being pierced with puffy red marks from the ropes digging into his baby-soft skin.

You're just about ready to drag him away from the kitchen by his ears when Toji finally comes into the room, sucking leftover syrup off of his thumb, eyeballing you.

"Mm, did you do something different to the pancakes, puss?" he questions. "Might be a new favorite of mine."

You smile and shrug. "Nope, don't think so." 

He buys it, or if he doesn't, he doesn't press the topic further. Instead his eyes travel over the wooden chair in the center of your bedroom.

“Welp, let the games begin,” he says, holding out his arms as he releases himself to be at your mercy.

Around ten minutes later, his sits with his arms pinned behind his back. His torso is attached to the back of the chair while his ankles are bound to the legs.

“Well done,” Toji grunts, attempting to tug on the ropes and being unsuccessful in loosening the knots. “My lil’ brat does pay attention.”

You lean over him, putting your hands on his shoulders. His cock has definitely hardened by now, sitting pretty in his lap as you’d requested he take his shorts off before being tied up.

You watch as his thighs flex and his cock jerks up, tip glistening under the warm lighting in your bedroom.

“Agh, fuck,” he spits. “Show me what you got, dollface.”

You continue to stand, fingers linked together in front of you, implying you have no intention of touching him. “What do you mean?” you ask innocently.

“Brat, don’t piss me off,” he grunts, a vein in his neck throbbing as he tilts his neck, fighting harder against his restraints now.

You giggle innocently and bring your knee up to the meeting of his thighs, ghosting it over his light brown tip. “You doing okay there?”

His eyes flutter closed, beads of sweat appearing on his brow line just under his hair. “Fuck. Stop doing that shit.”

“Or what?” you taunt, knowing he’s trapped.

“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” he threatens, but he can’t help but let out a delicious grunt when you glide your knee up his wanton shaft - back down again.

“What is it you always call me?” you tap your chin, pretending to think about it. “Needy whore.”

“Fuck you,” he grits, fists balled up behind him. You see his fingers attempting to reach the bottom of the knot but to no avail. He has no way out of this and he knows it. You’re watching the aphrodisiac kick into his system in real time.

His pupils expand when he looks up at you. His cheeks are slightly pink, and his bottom lip is underneath his teeth.

“Okay, okay,” you say, rolling your eyes. You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it slowly past your stomach, then over your chest. You shake your tits in his face, and he leans forward, snapping his teeth, like a shark threatening to take a chomp out of your flesh.

“Quit playing with me, Y/N,” he says sharply. “I’mma fuck you up. Bruise your little uterus so bad.”

“Would love to see you try,” you crack, pulling the fabric off your head and shaking your hair free. You know just how bad your hair turns him on, how much he enjoys nearly ripping it from your scalp as he delivers painful backshots.

He jerks against the chair, causing you to jump a little. You turn around and sit on his lap.

Toji’s entire body stiffens. “God, why is my shit so sensitive?” The sentence comes out breathy, almost whiny. Toji never allows himself to switch, but you feel you may have unlocked the ten percent of him that likes to be submissive.

“What did you do?” he goes on. “You did something to me - fuck.”

And the moment you'd come clean, you were already bouncing deliciously on his cock, watching as he squirmed against his restraints and cussed in your ear.

"You're fuckin' dead," he keeps saying, before giving up and breaking into a pathetic little, "fu-uck. Mmh, yeah, ride me baby. Gonna fill you up."

"No you're not," you say, noting how his cock begins to twitch and using your knees to lift yourself up and slide it out of you, leaving your cunt pulsing with ache.

"What the fuck - get back here," he growls. His arms pull against the ropes, and you fear at any moment they're going to pop.

"This is payback, Toji." You look at your nails and then sit yourself back down, facing him with your cunt touching his cock but not allowing him the pleasure of being inside of it. "All those times you overstimulate me, or edge me.”

You lean forward and kiss him on the nape of his neck. He howls, jerking his cock up against you for even the slightest bit of pleasure.

You're just about to drag your teeth across the prominent vein in his neck when a terrifying shred! sound enters the air.

You sit up straight and stare down at Toji in horror, but his face has twisted into a sinister, knowing smile.

"You fucked up, you know that?" he questions, and before you can scramble off of his lap, his arms are around your body, capturing you against his chest.

The next few seconds are a blur. Before you can blink or breathe, the tip of Toji’s cock feels like it’s inside your intestines, your back against your bedroom door as he fucks you against it.

“A honey packet like I’m some booty call?” Toji gripes, drilling his hips into you so mean, that all you can do is slap your hands on his back for mercy. “‘Bout to turn your pussy inside out, demon brat.”

“Toji! Please,” you cry, trying to spread your legs on either side of his hips to make it feel like he isn’t going so deep, but his cockhead is so slick and fat that it’s threatening to crack you open.

His body being covered in oil is not working to your advantage. Your hands are sliding off of him, until you finally give up and take your hands in his hair, and he increases his speed because of it.

“I oughta chain you to the bed with a vibrator on your clit,” he threatens. “Since you wanna play with me. Fuck. So fucking creamy, ma.” His head falls to stare at your cunt as his cock drills in and out of it, white substance layering on his groin and between your folds.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry,” you whine into his ear, “o-ooh. Shit.”

“‘Sorry baby,’” Toji mocks. “Yeah. ‘M sorry too. Sorry that you ain’t gonna be able to walk for a few days. Hold on tight, brat.”

SHOOT MY STEAM / GETO.

"Baby, can you pass me my bottle?"

The sentence you've been waiting to hear for about thirty minutes now.

You're at the gym with your boyfriend. You've been resting on the bench, watching him do his sets, waiting for him to ask for his water.

Suguru knows you always mix in his electrolyte packets for him, only this time, you'd found a convenient aphrodisiac powder to put inside instead. You wanted to see just how hot and sweaty he could really get with it flowing through his veins while he trained.

Only one issue with that: you’d accidentally forgotten about putting it in there, so you’d taken a fat swig a while back and now you’re paying for it as you sit and watch him.

"C'mon, monk, back on your feet," he says, taking a deep breath after chugging some of his water. He places it next to you and then reaches his hands out to help you stand. "'M gonna lose motivation if you're not up with me."

You swallow thickly and force a smile, before taking his hands and rising back up to follow him to the weights. Your body is tingling, cunt ripe with desire.

You decide to do some lunges to distract yourself while Suguru works on the lat pulldown, and you stare with heat in your chest as his back muscles flex under the cut-off sleeves of his shirt.

You think about your nails sliding over the sweaty skin to incite dangerous growls from your boyfriend, making him fall apart as he pumps you full of dick. Your head spins.

You attempt to shake the thoughts away and continue lunging until he finishes his pulldowns. When he stands, an erection is painfully obvious in his shorts.

He walks over to you, voice low. "Well, I guess this means I'm doing good," he comments, pointing to his new friend, and then gesturing to you. "It's also probably because your legs are looking good, angel. Damn."

You giggle and walk to drop off the weights. "Are you gonna be able to keep working out with... that?" You’re mostly asking for yourself, because if you’re forced to sit here and watch him workout with a boner, you may combust.

Suguru glances at himself in the mirror, rolling his shoulder blades. "It'll go away in a second. It's just all the blood pumping through me."

You blink. Your self control is dwindling but you try to redirect your focus. "'Kay, well I'll be over here starting some squats."

Suguru nods and pulls you in for a sweaty kiss, "Alright, love you."

God, you wish he hadn’t done that. Now everywhere his body touched you feels like a thousand needles. You want to grab him the minute he attempts to pull away, but you’re frozen in place, the fuzzy memory of his sweaty lips on yours making your panties damper.

And the next twenty minutes are history. You watch as Suguru loses more and more of his focus, his painful erection never coming close to dying. He slows down in his workouts, his eyes lingering on you much longer than before. You even watch him blink harshly, attempts running futile at pushing away his feelings. Then at last, he comes to collect you.

Now, you know it's a little unsanitary to be laid out over the sauna bench, Suguru leaning over you as steam and sweat drip from his locks.

You also don't care. The lust in his eyes, the furrow in his brow from where he doesn't understand why he couldn't wait to get home to do this is making your pussy throb around him.

"Fuck me," Suguru’s eyes roll back as he brings one of your slippery legs over his chiseled hip, sides of his cock gliding against your internal ridges. “Feels too fucking good, monk.”

All you can do is whine in response, as the subtle curve in Suguru’s dick causes it to poke the squishy roof of your tunnel. Your arms are trying to hold onto him, but with the steam, the two of you are just sweaty, wet bodies gliding against each other.

His abs rub over your belly and sensitive nipples, and he takes in the way each grind makes you gasp a little harder than before.

"F-fuck, Suguru," you whimper.

"Hah - ngh," he growls in your ear. "Don't say my name like that."

"S-Suguru," you repeat, feeling his nails attempt to dig into your skin before his fingers slide over your wet hips. "Wanna feel your cum."

He shakes his head, slinging water all over your face until you’re envisioning it being his warm semen instead. "N-No, feels too good, don't wanna cum yet."

You continue pushing him. "Cum for me, please?"

"No," Suguru spits, the end coming out breathy as he tries to compose himself.

"Please fill me up," you keep going, knowing that he won't be able to even if he tries.

"Baby," Suguru whines pathetically, but his strokes have noticeably gotten sloppier, needier. "Y-You have to stop."

You shake your head defiantly, before you crash your sweaty lips onto his. You moan against his mouth, taking his bottom lip between your teeth, piercing pressure onto it. His lips part as he continues slipping in and out of you.

Your bodies roll to the side on the sauna bench and continue going at it.

“Can’t get enough,” he mumbles against your mouth. “So wet for me, angel.”

It’s not long before you’re practically shoving him off of you, pussy sore and swollen. But he keeps holding you back onto his cock, making sure you nut on him as many times as he is able to drag it out of you.

Then, after concerns about your time spent in the sauna, you wrap it up - even though Suguru still hasn’t cum himself. But that doesn’t remain the case for long.

You find yourself pressed against the wet shower wall not even five minutes later, only a curtain hiding the two of you from the rest of the people in the bathroom. Suguru keeps his hand clamped over your mouth, whispering in your ear how good girls keep quiet, while making it impossible for you to obey.

And when he finally releases his thick cum all over your asscheek, watching as it instantly washes away under the hot water, he’s sticking it back in just a few seconds later.

Your brain is mushed with ecstasy from the powder, so you hardly notice that you’ve cum on his cock twice already, still ready for more.

GUMMY THROAT / GOJO.

“Want a hit?”

Shoko coughs and turns her wrist to hold her blunt out to you. You sit beside her on the couch and shake your head, holding up the bag in your hand.

“I’m good,” you grin. Inside the bag is edible gummies, which you’ve taken two of, and can already feel your toes stretching.

Shoko nods in understanding and passes it to someone else, leaning back against the couch with her eyelids laying low.

You check your pockets for your other bag, which has libido gummy bears, not edibles. This is the bag you’d handed to Gojo, watching as he’d devoured three obliviously.

“Satoru, you know you shouldn’t have eaten that many,” you’d scolded, trying to play along.

“Relax, my tolerance is higher than yours,” he’d quipped sassily.

But now that Shoko’s party has started to slow down, people disappearing in spurts, others sitting in corners or on the floor because they’re stuck, you and Gojo are having a staring contest - and you know what it means.

His eyes are wide and his fingers are restless. He’s sitting next to Suguru, who’s naively engaged in conversation with a pretty ginger. You’re pretending to ignore Gojo’s clear body language that says he wants to leave so that he can scramble your brains.

You giggle as your head falls on Shoko’s shoulder. Your body feels like it’s lifting off of the couch as the THC begins to flood through your bloodstream. All you can do is grip onto your skirt as if it’ll ground you.

Gojo stands from where he sits and struts over to you, his blue eyes appearing to glow with madness. “Y/N, get up,” he instructs, his voice commanding and unlike him.

“No,” you huff, nuzzling further into Shoko.

“Have it your way.” He reaches down and grabs your wrist, yanking you off of the cushions, and you can distantly hear Shoko laughing as Gojo puts his hand under your thighs and lifts you into his arms.

“Hey-!” you protest as you’re now being hauled princess style, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin with just how harshly he’s holding you.

“It’s way late,” he says. “And you’re high as hell. We need to go.”

“You’re being extra,” you scold, bopping your finger on his nose before letting yourself go limp against him. “Y’sure this is about it being late?”

“No, it isn’t,” he admits. “Watching you sit there and play with your skirt is making me lose my damn mind.”

“But I was hanging out with Shoko,” you pout, and realize he is not taking you towards any exits at all. He’s walking you to the back of the house, near the laundry room. “Gojo, what are you-?”

“I need your throat,” he blurts suddenly, glaring down at you with a compulsory twinkling in his eye. “Happy now? That’s what this is about. Need it so fucking bad.”

You giggle. The air feels crisp and your mind is so free. The room spins and you still feel like you’re floating.

“Okay, but be warned that I have cotton mouth,” you hold up a finger matter-of-factly. “May be a bit dry.”

He reaches the laundry room and pushes the curtain aside. If you were more sober, you’d realize how incredibly risky he’s being, but since you aren’t, you don’t care.

He puts you down in front of the washer, and wraps his fingers around your face, squishing your cheeks and forcing your mouth to open. In the same beat, he tuahs a mean glob of spit in your mouth.

“There,” he whispers. “That should help. Now I need you on your knees.”

He uses his grip on your face to push your head down until your knees collapse and you land on them. He releases you and you look up at him expectantly.

“All this for some head?” you taunt, placing your palms on his thighs. “Not that serious.”

“Yes it is,” he whines, “might die if I can’t shove my cock between those pretty lips.”

He leans down and swipes his thumb across your mouth, flicking your bottom lip and making your eyes flutter. You’re looking at him but not quite seeing him, as the gummies in your system have you spaced out. Your limbs feel like they’re stretching. You dig your nails into Gojo’s pants and he responds with an unearthly growl.

Your face is shadowed immediately, and upon focusing your eyes, you realize there's a fat, peachy cock looming over your face.

You gasp, watching as it comes down and taps you on the nose, fleshy and dripping in precum.

“Satoru-!” is all you can manage to say, as his tip grazes your cheek.

“Open up,” he instructs, and you part your lips slowly, expecting him to shove himself inside but instead he leans forward and sends another drop of saliva down your throat. “Just making sure it’s wet enough.”

“Y- mmh,” you're cut off, because Gojo has rammed the tip of his cock between your lips.

You part your teeth and wrap your tongue on the underside instinctually, eyes fluttering closed as you take in his salty taste.

"Speak up," he grunts, “you were being so bratty a minute ago.”

"Ngh - no," you gargle around his girth, saliva filling your mouth and making it hard to breath, pouring out of the sides of your cheeks and coating his shaft.

"Look at you, can't even take all of it," he taunts, pushing his hips deeper so that the tip begins to push down your throat, making you gag, your mouth becoming wetter.

Your eyes are hardly staying open. With your brain being so mellow, all that you can see or feel or taste is Gojo’s cock as it pumps in and out of your throat, bulging through your neck.

“So gummy,” Gojo purrs, putting his hands on the edge of the washing machine behind you. “Throat fits me so perfect, baby, y’know that?”

You can’t respond but the moaning attempt you make around his cock pulls a grunt from him. You know he’s being incredibly loud and obvious, but you can hardly scold him. The most you can do is crack your palms on his thighs, leaving tiny hand-shaped prints on the smooth skin.

“Hngh - what was that for?” he scolds before murmuring, “do it again.”

You smack his legs again and keep your eyes closed. You’re salivating all over his length and it drips down your chin, which is being abused by his heavy sac in repeated claps.

“Quiet,” you moan around his cock, as he’s letting out the most pathetic, desperate moans while you drive your mouth down to the base.

“N-No,” he grumbles, lifting his shirt up, before taking it between his teeth. You’re met face to face his with his perfect abdomen, glistening in droplets of sweat. “You suck me up so good, princess.”

Your eyes roll in pleasure at the name, eyes watering, mouth no longer dry. You don’t care if he wants to wake up the neighborhood; you just want to hear the delicious, sultry noises.

But right when you feel his dick twitch against the sides of your cheeks, you force your mouth off and swallow down the pool of saliva in the back of your throat. Your lips are wet and puffy as you part them and stare up at him.

“Gah - baby, why?” he quarrels, gripping tightly on your head.

You answer by leaning back forward and kissing his tip, sticking out your tongue and flicking it over the head before backing up again.

His knees nearly buckle, his grip on your head tightens.

“P-please don’t,” he whimpers. “S-suck it.”

“Mm-mm,” you mouth defiantly, wrapping your lips over the tip and gently pressing your teeth down; should he try to shove it deeper, it would only hurt him.

“Ngh - ‘m too horny for this, baby,” he growls. “Was so close.”

“Too bad,” you shrug, voice muffled because of the way you’re swirling your tongue over his slick pink tip.

His head falls forward, white locks dangling over his face as he tries to fight through his unbearably high libido. Your high has started to wear off but you can tell it’s going to be a long night for Satoru.

“Alright princess, I-I’ll remember this,” he coos from above, trying to push his hips towards your face but ultimately hissing and stopping when your teeth clamp down on the meat. “Goddamnit baby, what’s gotten into you? P-Please jus’ le’me cum.”

“Maybe,” you hum, taking him out of your mouth and using your spit to stroke his cock. “How bad you want it?”

“S-so bad,” he begs. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” you question, running your thumb over his tip. “Hmm. You’re in charge of cooking dinner for a week. Deal?”

“Ah - fuck it, just please,” he whines, writhing under your touch, barely able to get his words out.

“Cum,” you say silkily, sticking your tongue to catch the salty, white ropes that waste absolutely no time shooting from his shaft.

He twitches under your grip until his high has ridden out, but you use his cum as lubricant to keep stroking his poor length.

“Okay, okay,” he whines. “I-I’m good now, agh.”

“You’re not good till I say so,” you gruff, until his hand comes under your chin harshly, and brings you to a forced standing position.

“I said I’m good, but if you think I’m not getting you back for that - you’re a stupid little thing, aren’t you?” He swipes his thumb over your cum-covered lips, and then licks it clean, before cracking you on the cheek. “Now, on your toes baby. And be quiet.”

A/N:

I’ve been trying to finish this for forever bro wtf is wrong with me

I’m fighting demons (writer’s block)

And also… I think I wanna write some Gojo fluff after #jjk271 because my baby deserves love and light good fucking bye.

all the love always!

~pennjammin

[rafesangelita]

♡ “have you ever tried this one?” in which kook!sweetheart!reader convinces rafe to take her to go see one of her favorite artists, and as a ‘thank you’ she and rafe have to do whatever position sabrina demo’s for her song “juno”..

warnings: fluff, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, breeding kink (?)

a/n: so sad because i didn’t get to see sabrina on tour, and she has had me in the meanest chokehold lately :( click this link to see what position i’m referring to <3

when the dates dropped for sabrina’s ‘short n’ sweet’ tour, rafe wasted no time in buying you two tickets. of course, you didn’t know this and begged him for weeks until he finally told you yes, your flight and hotel room already booked for a nice little weekend getaway. rafe helped you make your concert outfit, both of you spending hours on the whole ensemble. the end result was absolutely stunning and rafe couldn’t stop taking pictures of you.

he posted one on the night of the concert, captioning it ‘my little popstar princess <3’ and you two were off to the stadium. while you knew wearing sparkly white platform boots wouldn’t be the best choice to walk in, you stuck it through, and as soon as the lights dimmed and the music started, any kind of discomfort you felt had melted away as you were far too distracted singing along to every song that boomed through the venue.

babydoll lingerie top with pink fluffy trim, dedazzled stockings, glittery makeup, your hair freshly done, rafe swore you never looked prettier. even though he was against wearing anything that sparkled, he decided to wear a plain pink t-shirt to match with you in his own little way. he kept his arms wrapped around your waist as you two sung, having learned the lyrics to every song since you insisted on being in charge of the aux cord whenever you two were in his truck.

eventually, you two were swaying softly, rafe’s chin resting in the curve of your neck as you stroked the skin of his arm. “thank you for bringing me here.” you smiled up at him, connecting your lips as the intro to ‘juno’ started playing. rafe hummed, leaning down so you could hear him. “you know i had to bring you, baby.. what do you say you thank me another way when we get back to our room?” your cheeks heated as you laughed softly.

“yeah, i’d like that,” you pecked his cheek, “how about we do the position she does for the song?” rafe smiled, both of you fixing your attention on the stage. you waited with anticipation, your heart beating in your ears when she bent over and touched her toes. rafe cheered, making you laugh as he couldn’t wait to get you back to the hotel. luckily for him, there was only a few more songs left before the show ended and the two of you rushed out of there.

it wasn’t long after you two walked through the door that rafe had your boots thrown in a forgotten corner, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he took you roughly from behind. you struggled to keep your hands placed on your perfectly pedicured toes, your knees threatening to give out from under you while rafe thrusted into you at an unforgiving pace. “holy fuck, you’re taking it so fuckin’ good, gorgeous, ‘might just let you get off your tippy toes and put you on your back instead.”

you cried out, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as his pelvis smacked against the back of your ass. “can’t, rafe!” you shrieked, nearly doubling over before your boyfriend reached down and grabbed your arms, holding you by your wrists as you hung helplessly from his grip. he was fucking you stupid, and your lack of thoughts was proof of it. you couldn’t think, the feeling of rafe’s cock stroking that soft gummy spot inside of you made you whimper pathetically.

finally, you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, your knees meeting the carpeted floor. rafe picked you up, cursing under his breath as he encouraged you to get back in position. “promise i’ll have you in bed soon, pretty, you could hold out for me, yeah?” you shuddered, looking at him from behind your shoulder with that fucked-out gaze he loved so much. you had tears in your eyes, your body glitter still sparkling under the soft lighting.

giving him a little nod, you reached down once again, holding onto your ankles for dear life as rafe circled an arm under your hips, holding you up as his fingers started working on your clit. “oh!” you were in hysterics, your blood rushing to your head as he landed a harsh smack to your backside. “come on, baby, ‘wanna feel this pussy squeeze around me.” you moaned at his words, your orgasm just in arm’s reach as rafe’s thrusts grew uncalculated. “rafe?” you could barely speak, the band in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“talk to me.” he groaned, teetering the edge of pure euphoria. “make me juno?” you giggled for a split second, the insinuation only turning rafe on even more. “fuck, yeah? ‘want me to fill you up, give you a baby?” you let out a distorted “mhmm!’, the two of you gasping when your highs took you both to cloud nine. rafe pulled you back up, your chest rising and falling while your legs shook with your orgasm. pressing wet kisses to your neck, rafe did exactly as he said, his hips stuttering as hot, thick ropes of cum painted your velvety walls.

you two stayed like this, pressed against one another until your breathing slowed, the aftershocks subsiding before rafe laid you both down in bed. “we should have a ‘short n’ sweet’ themed baby shower.. we could serve espressos.” rafe laughed, draping an arm over your tummy. “we’ll see.” he hummed. your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed him in, his cologne still heavy on his skin. “you know what we should try when we get back home?” rafe traced shapes into your side, mumbling a ‘what’s that?’

“pink fuzzy handcuffs.”

[fairy-angel222]

“𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘”.. 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐏𝐈𝐄 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—gojo finds out that you’re baking a pie for some stupid co worker of yours, shows you that he’s the only one deserving

pairing: gojo x fem! reader

content: smut, tit slapping, pussy slapping, degradation, hair pulling, belly bulge, breeding, finger sucking, spit swallowing, mean teasing

When Gojo strolled into the kitchen to find you baking one of your signature cream filled pies he hummed. Pressing up against you with his arms around your waist while placing soft kisses to your neck.

“That smells delicious baby, who’s it for?” He had seen the text from your coworker asking you to bake one for him.

“Oh thanks baby! It’s just for some coworker at work. Been begging me for one of my pies for a while now.” You shrugged. “Hmm.. and would that co worker happen to be the same one who’s been flirting with you for ages?” He whispered when his lips reached your ear, hot breath fanning against your skin as you swallowed hard.

—

“Don’t fucking run from it baby, take it all like a good girl.” Gojo growled out, a grin spread across his face as his cock drilled meanly into your cunt. His hand in your hair yanking your head back to look up at him. Blue eyes seemingly darker when he groaned.

“My little slut’s so fucking pretty.” Grinding hard against your ass, a loud mewl escaping your lips when his tip grazed roughly into your gummy spot. “You feel that?” He rolled his hips again, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand pressed against the bottom of your stomach. “Feel me deep in you baby?”

You let out a shaky cry, your body being jerked back and forth with each of the man’s harsh thrusts. His hand pointing out the bulge of his tip against your skin. “Nngh— Satoru.”

“Open that pretty little mouth for me.” Gojo breathed, your back arching deeply as you sniffled. Doing as told and opening your mouth with a whimper, allowing Gojo’s spit to fall onto your tongue with a hum. Two of his slender fingers finding their way into your mouth, resting on the back of your tongue before he was lightly thrusting them down your throat.

“That’s it. That’s the good slut i know.” he smirked, your lips enclosing around the digits as your eyes closed with the shiver of your body.

Your loud moans were muffled as Gojo bullied his fat cock deep into your tightness. Eyes pooling with tears as your stomach burned with heat. Gojo’s hand finding its way to grope at your tits, pinching at your hard nipples making you let out a choked whine.

You yelped when your boyfriend’s large hand landed softly on your breast, mewling messily around his fingers when it landed harder on the other one. Your body trembled as Gojo’s finger trailed down your stomach, stopping at your clit to rub on the sensitive nub. Pulling out a string of moans followed by a cry when he slapped down at your clit.

“Gonna show you a real cream pie baby. Gonna stuff that pussy full of me.” Gojo grunted, one hand remaining on clit while he removed the one in your mouth with a string of salvia still attached. Using it to knead the flesh of your ass, red from the constant slamming of his hips onto it.

“S-satoruu, you’re so mean— ahh,” you mewled when you felt a harsh smack stinging through your skin. Your boyfriend’s hand reaching to your neck as he pulled you close, increasing the speed of his thrusts with a chuckle.

“Hmm, am i? Could’ve decided to leave this pussy wet and needy if i wanted to.” Pressing his chest flush against your back, his breath hot on your ear. “Could’ve left you to go bring you that stupid pie to that stupid boy, baby.” He scoffed in faux offense. “I’m hurt, i’d say i’m quite nice don’t ya think?”

You could only whimper as you felt yourself getting close, pussy clenching around Gojo’s cock when his grip on your neck tightened.

“O-oh, Satoru— ‘m close,” you cried, your eyes rolling back and your legs shaking.

“Thought i was mean huh? Why’re you coming on a mean man’s cock?” he teased, his finger’s movements on your clit speeding up to drive you over the edge.

Cumming hard with the scream of his name, your sopping pussy gushing onto his cock. Gojo groaned deeply, his thrusts noisy as heavy balls slapped against your folds. Basking in the feeling of your perfect pussy before he was bottoming out in you.

“Gonna stuff this pussy nice ‘n full with my cum.” His movements stilling as he pumped ropes after ropes onto your walls. Painting them from red to white with a smile. “Look at that, greedy pussy’s swallowing it all.” Pulling out of you ever so slowly and watching as his cum spilled in tiny spurts as your hole spasmed.

You let out a breath, allowing your body to fall limp into the sheets as you panted. You should have seen that coming.

[toji-bunny-girl]

bartender toji fucking the living daylights out of us after a nasty breakup ? also have a nice day

ON THE H★USE !!

#𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆 ⟢ bartender!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader #𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 ⟢ riding the hot bartender after a break up is the least expected thing you’ll ever think of #𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⟢ alcohol, pet names, foreplay, fingering, teasing, grinding, pre-cum, no protection, creampie, car sex, nipple play, squirting, size difference, big dick toji papa, alpha toji with xxxxxxxxl dick, multiple orgasm, one-sided drunk sex (?), power play, I’m so lazy to do tags, who even reads content warnings tbh #𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 ⟢ 4k #𝑨/𝑵 ⟢ don’t let this flop guys I spent way too much time on this when I should be studying for my exam 😭

“Plus, he literally had to beg me to act like I was cummin’ when he stuck his sorry excuse of a dick in me!” your eyelids hung heavily over your eyes as you exclaimed, brows shooting down in a frown. “Get a load of that guy, am I right?”

“He doesn’t pay for your stuff, and he can’t fuck good?!” Toji teasingly mirrored your tone as he manoeuvre behind the bar, uniform taut from the way he natchly flexed his arms; the bottles clinking as he worked deftly to craft out the beverage you ordered. “What a man.”

It has been 2 hours since you’ve been rambling on about your ex-boyfriend, and the ravenette felt like he’d known this stranger for years—all of his secrets and traits aired into his ears. Albeit, it was getting a bit boring, with the same repeated stories tumbling out of your voluble mouth. But still, he enjoyed chuckling at your adorable insobriety, fuelled by drunken mania. 

“Here you go, princess,” a small tug lifted the ends of his scarred lips when your eyes patently glimmered at the newly served alcohol. “It’s the last I can give you, we’re closing…” Toji’s eyes momentarily flickered to his watch, “in 7 minutes.”

“Oh, okay!” you deliriously yawped, downing the beverage into your liqueur-brimmed system before handing him your card, which you aimlessly threw at him, not even lucid of your motions. “Just swipe it.”

Toji simply brushed it off, taking it towards the other side of the counter. He's used to unintentional antics like yours, as long as the tab was paid off he has no problem with them. 

15,900 yen. 

The digits flashed past his eyes like stars, igniting a luminous glint in his dark emerald orbs. Hell, was it a sum to casually splurge on at some mid-high bar? He’s got a pretty girl with probably an equally pretty amount of personality in her wallet, sprawled on the bar top wailing about her broken heart. 

Oh, how he would love to play saviour. 

“Here, princess. Time to go home,” he tapped your card onto the counter after the successful transaction. His gruff voice was low as you drifted further from your haywired consciousness and towards a delicious drowse. You didn’t move when he neared your face, attempting to marshal up your scattered coherence by calling into your ear. 

Toji sighed as he leaned back onto his feet, and crossed his bulky arms, pondering the ways to get you out of the otherwise empty bar. 

It was 12:58 am and the other inebriated customers had gone out by themselves or with their friends dragging them along. Except for you, softly snoring on the sticky counter. 

His coworker shrugged at him when the ravennette glanced at the shorter male for help. “Just get her out of here. I’ll clean up the rest, and you owe me this one,” always so kind—how Toji wished he could smooch that man right then. 

“Thanks, man,” Toji’s eyes curved in moon crescents, before settling his sight onto your dozed frame. His finger pressed against your temple, and your head lolled to the side in suit of a light push; a trail of drool slipping past your plump lips. You were completely and utterly out of it, huh?

Grasping onto your arm, the male lightly shook you awake, the warmth from his calloused palm stimulating your nerves vivified. “Hey, Mr. Bartender…” you had an uneven smile on your crooked lips, sleepiness bubbling into the air with every laggard blink as you breathily chuckled. “Are you gonna bring me home?”

“I don’t know about that, princess,” his tone was syrupy sweet and it licked the ends of your lips upwards into a velvety grin. “But we gotta go now. Come on,” Toji’s hands came to yours, gently pulling you off of the bar stool. You followed after his guide, slipping your card into your pocket before frisking behind him like a lamb to the door. 

The burly male turned to his wrist after the door swung close in the wake of your exit, checking his watch; it read 1:04 am. The train station is closed and it’s going to kill his conscience if he leaves you by the streets like he always does with intoxicated male customers. He has no idea where you stay anyway—best to call a friend of yours to take you home. 

“(Y/N)?”

A grating, vexatious voice called. The two of you swivelled your gaze to the source to find your cheating, insipid creature of an ex with an arm thrown over some chick’s shoulders, chortling at the unstable mess you were. Your eyes were puffy and tumid from the hours of crying slash ranting session, and you were anything but lucid from the way you looked. 

How fucking lucky.

“What you got going on here? Getting kicked out of a bar?” your ex taunted, nearing his face to yours as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Y-You…as—”

“Have the lady some of her space, buddy,” Toji’s authoritative voice prevailed over yours as he pushed the male away, rendering him to helplessly stumble backward into a fall. The woman in his arm hid her giggle with a gasp before helping his fuming ass up, his face beet red from his ignominious tumble. 

“Who are you?” he barked, eyelids flying open to show the hidden whites and teeth bared in belligerence. 

“A man who can make her cum, without begging her to fake it,” the woman burst into a half-concealed snicker when the ravennette broke the air with his unanticipated words. Your face grew to be saturated with ardent red, from both the intoxicant that coursed through your veins and the sentence you thought you had heard.

“I call it bullshit,” your ex spat with his upper lip pulled up in disrelish. There’s a flash of humiliation in his glare—he knew Toji seemed better than him and it killed him to know you’ve got suitors who are way out of his league. 

“It’s true,” you tapped Toji’s metallically stiff chest with a twisted, satisfied smirk on your rat-arsed face. “He toootally didn’t just stick his dick in me and call it a day, y’know?”

“Fucking whore.”

“What d’ya say?!” you screeched, ready to pounce on the asshole. “I sent you to the ER once, and I’ll do it again!”

“Alright, that’s enough, princess,” Toji tenaciously held onto your arm, and you’re stuck by him even without him using much strength. “We don’t want you dirtying your hands, do we?” 

A nasty shove met the male’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs when he hit the ground. It was merely a fraction of Toji’s force, and it already had the male choking to breathe on the ground. 

“Speak to her like that again, and it’s not going to be just a push,” you could hear the rise of a dour, serrated threat in his tone, and it begot the asshole to cower back in trepidation. 

Pussy, Toji grimace. Albeit he was no saint himself but he absolutely despises the ilk of guys your ex filtered into—boisterous and a bully to women, yet nothing but a trifling mutt in front of men.

A tug of his arm, and your limbs wrapped around his wretched him out of his state of visceral contempt. “Take me home!” you ineptly exclaimed, a gruntled grin on your adorable, roguish face. 

Briefly riveting his baleful gaze onto the splayed male on the bitumen, Toji steered you uphill towards the parking lot as you clumsily tottered aside him. 

The encounter with the small-dick fucker sure rendered him more understanding of your evening of outburst. Plus, for you to be cheated on that piece of work was truly the icing on the cake. “Poor you, huh?”

“Forget ‘bout him! You were so cool I almost cummed right there and then,” you teasingly giggled as you peered at him through your heavy eyelids. 

Fuck—it’s no good for you to be saying that with that look on your face. 

His eyes rest ahead the road as you soon come to near the bright red C8 Corvette the woman he’s estranged with had previously gifted him, the car standing out amongst the parked vehicles like a sore thumb. 

Your eyes scintillated in awe when the car luridly flashed and beeped in the night, “That’s yours?!” you cried aloud, frisking all the way to the car, before stumbling over thin air and nearly jolting forward into a fall. Luckily, Toji was quick enough to catch you by your arm, saving your knee a painful event of bloody excoriation. “Oopsie daisie.”

Cute, Toji chortled. 

Jumping into the vehicle, the potent roar of the engine cut through the midnight air after you’ve settled neatly in the passenger seat, the only thing missing was the safety belt that was supposed to secure your form. Reaching to your side, Toji’s hand briefly brushed over your exposed thigh, the hem of your short dress riding up to merely cover your panty. 

A soft, almost inaudible noise fled your lips, and his eyes laid on your face, the faint, intimate gold beam from the street lamp illuminating your glowing features. Your orbs were luminous through the dark, and it roused an innate lasciviousness that lay dormant in his core. 

The liquor that flowed through your blood vessels had not quelled through the lapse of time, but it did not take away your clarity to feel the tension that electrified the air molecules into sweltering magnetism. And gosh do you want to snatch the constriction in the atmosphere and tear it through your canines. 

“Touch me,” you whispered, so soft and vulnerable Toji could seemingly snap you in half with just a touch. 

“You’re drunk, princess,” he reminded, yet he remained unshifted over your smaller frame, his hand merely a molecule from your tempting flesh that sang for his warmth. 

“No,” you were firm. Something in you purled, bubbling a heavy, demanding need to have him devour you. “I want you,” your breath was hot, scorchingly so; airy and desperate. 

“You want me?” his hand fell to your wrist, grasping your soft skin under his heavy hold, and guiding you over to his seat, straddling his lap. His gaze cut through your eyes, daubing pressure against your jumbled nerves, his intensity threatened to slice through the silky jugular of your vulnerability. And you nearly moaned under his eyes.

You gingerly nodded at him, and you thought the knit between your brows was enough to speak for your neediness. 

His grip on your wrist tightened a fraction before you missed the heat radiating from his palm. “Careful, princess. You might regret this,” he had paved a way out, it’s a leave it or fuck it situation served beneath your fingertip—and all the atoms in your body leaped into the growling blaze in the abyss residing in his essence. 

“Please,” your voice was barely a note above a mumble, yet the weight of your single word mitigated any marshalled resistance in him. 

His hands slid up your thighs, inching under your dress, sending tingles to your throbbing core. The intensity that radiated from him ceased to waver as he leaned against your neck, brushing against your skin as you gulped. Dark, ashen clouds drew above the emerald forest of his before he spoke, almost threateningly against your throat, “I want you to remember every single detail of this in the morning.”

With a breathless nod, you had swung the floodgates of your amenability open to his guttural thirst. The heavy, rapacious waves of your desires crash into superposition. You were the fuel and he was the fire, together the air detonated into space. 

His wet lips met yours in a whim, sucking onto your flesh until it stung, greedily tasting every crook and cranny of your wet cavern with the bumps of his tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your hands flew to clutch onto his head, deepening the kiss to reach his insides while his rough fingers sank into the plump flesh of your ass. 

Your lips burned with his saliva, and his tongue fluttered with yours. The atmosphere felt all-consuming, gripping onto your throat and restricting the air from flushing down your windpipe. Yet, your core pulsed between your thighs, an excited blaze slowly roaring into something bigger than you could handle. 

Your chest rose and fell in a quick tempo when you snatched your lips away from his, grasping as much air as you could within a second before you dove right into him. Albeit your sight was hazy, you caught sight of the luminous flush that panned over his cheeks. 

Pretty, pretty. You chanted in your head as your hands slid down to his clothes, clumsily popping the buttons off of the garment that kept the warmth of his skin away from your touch. You want him, you want him. 

Your fingers nearly melted when they met his hot, sinewy chest, and Toji’s teeth sank a little too hard into your bottom lip when you teased his nipples under your touch, innervating them hard with every flick. The salient bulge in his pants rolled against your folds, merely separated by an annoying piece of your underwear, and your moans jumbled into each other’s mouths

“Fuck, princess. You’re driving me crazy,” Toji breathily groaned when your sloppy lips sundered apart, a hot string of mixed saliva connecting your swollen, red lips together. His large hands lifted your ass up into the air as he palmed them, the warmth from him sending a snuggly sensation through your body. “It’s no fun when only you get to tease.”

Your eyes playfully gleamed, before the light shot out of the crater of your orbs—his finger pressed against your sodden panty, damp with arousal. The tingles shyly reached through your belly as he rubbed your hardening bud, and your body shuddered against his. 

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured against your jaw, leaving trails of bruised kisses down your jugular. His hand left your heat just as the high came close to your clutch, leaving you with nothing but the lingering cold touches of his. 

With a defeated sigh, you ground your knee against his growing hardness, your finger shyly rubbing against the clothed tip of the constrained mount, the spot slowly growing dark from amativeness. 

Toji sunk deeper into the headrest as you touched him, his exposed chest ceaselessly rising and falling. His breath hitched in his throat when you twirled his sensitive nipple between your fingers; your heated exhales warming the side of his neck as his grip almost painfully firmed onto the fat of your ass. 

You didn’t allow his peaking orgasm to come through, forcing yourself off of his sore, throbbing erection, and your teeth bared into a dirty smile. “I am playing fair.”

“You want to test me, princess?” he chuckled, the bassy timbre of his scratching the knot of an itch inside your ears. A gasp leaped out of your throat as your body jolted forward, his seat clicked backward to its maximum taut, “I’ll make you cry for more.”

You found your back nestled in his stead, your thighs spread open with his calloused hand slipping down your supple flesh. His fingers tapped nearer and nearer to your heat, before slipping off your soiled panty. 

“So fuckin’ wet,” Toji sucked an inhale through his teeth as he leered at your dripping sex—thick, rough thumb fluttering friction on your clit once again. Your eyelids flitted shut as you softly moaned against the air, the smell of your arousal filled the confinement of the car; the scent nearly making him growl when it panged hard against his nostrils. 

You watched as Toji slipped a thick finger into your velvety folds, feeling it trodding past your walls. Your heat snugly enveloped him as he filled your inside with another digit, his two fingers pressing, and running themselves over your slick cunny. “Gotta stretch you good for me, princess.” 

Your back inched into the seat with a contented sigh, enjoying the build-up of ticklish pressure stacking up your tummy. Toji was ridiculously dexterous with his fingers—deftly stroking your cunt, and quick to find the spot in you that innervated your pure senses with a ting. 

“S-Shit—” your body was subservient to his touches; your spine curved into an arch, your toes curled tight and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm. “M’feel so good. Toji—fuck,” it was as if his fingers were gilded in Eros’ heavenly blessing, the godly grace spilling into your pleasure. Tears began prickling at the sides of your eyes from how hard you were squeezing them, your flailing legs kicking against the dashboard of his car. 

“So pretty when you cry,” Toji groaned under his breath, his damp restraints painfully throbbing from the way your squelching walls tightened around his fingers—oh, how he fucking wish it was his cock in you right there and then. 

His touches were singing your walls into melting squirts of drool, pearls of arousal weeping between your thighs in the wake of his careful strokes. Never were you touched in such a way, and you felt like balling from how good it felt. “M’ close! M’gonna cum! Oh my gosh—!”

“Come on. Cum for me, princess,” you could hear his smirk in his voice as pleasure kissed your senses, fluttering through your electrified nerves and sending a jolt of tingles all over your body. Your mouth was lax open into an ‘o’, nails marking his skin as they sank deeper into his arm, and your walls tightly spasmed with a wave of rough euphoria cracking your bones weak. You fucking came from his mere fingers. 

Your eyes bat open with your lips sundered from your pants, your face ardently glowing from your subduing high. “Fuck…” your wet thighs quivered from the sheer force of your orgasm, and you blinked in disbelief. 

Over 2 decades of living and it was the first time cumming from a real man, not your fingers nor toys. But the brawny, sex-dripped male slipping your dress off of your spent body. 

You almost fell in love. 

Pushing him down the driver’s seat, you crawled over Toji’s firm thighs, running your finger from his chest to his muscle-packed abdomen, then down to the wristband. You were flickering to take charge, and he sank down to your guidance, rough palms resting on your hips. 

Your dress was off, divulging the bare curves of your body, sweat-glazed skin iridescent under the moonbeam and your sex-flushed features were begging for him. You look so, fucking, perfect that he had to bite down the need to ruin you on the spot. 

His hips impatiently thrust upwards into your sticky cunt, grinding his pack against you, urgency in his essence demanding your heat. “Don’t keep me waiting now,” he purred, with a silent warning tagging behind his words. 

Your fingers tugged the waistband of his pants along with his briefs, a drive in you matching his pacing hastiness. His shaft sprang out of its painful confinement, and your eyes nearly popped out from the sheer look of his cock. 

He was oozing with sticky pre-cum from his angry, red tip, throbbing veins ran from the base of his length to the curved head—the size of him bigger than any you’ve seen. The smell of his masculine essence hit your senses and a new pool of arousal began drawing in your tummy, your pussy walls squeezing in empty neediness.

“There’s no backing out now, princess,” Toji’s fingers firmly gripped onto your ass, lifting you over his cock, hovering.

“Who said I’m backing out?” you gulped, before lowering yourself down, his fat cockhead kissing your pussy lips before your hips greedily sank down his length, oblivious to the crackle of tingles it would send to your nerves.

“Careful there,” he teased with a chuckle as you let out an instinctual gasp from the way his girth stretched past your velvety walls, the slick sound of your arousal-dripped cunt, and his heavy shaft bubbled into the air, and scorched your cheeks red.

“M-My gosh…” you cried as your hazy gaze fell to the bulge jutting from the inside of your tummy, your walls taut with his heavy cock buried inside you. “I’m s’full, Toji.”

“Mhm,” he cooed, brushing his hands over the sides of your smooth thighs. “But you gotta start moving, baby.”

Gingerly, you lift your hips up before slowly inching them down his length. Your walls clenched as your sex rubbed friction, and you could feel every pulsing vein of his just as he could feel your fluttering warmth.

“Feel good, princess?” Toji asked breathily, your head faintly nodded, but there was a hint of a dubious glint in your fallen gaze, your knees lifting and sinking your weight.

“I need your help…” your voice cracked in disappointment as you paused, tears of frustration edging by your eyes. You couldn’t seem to grasp a steady pace no matter how long you painfully rode.

“What d’ya say?”

Your orbs looked as though they were melting off of your sweat-glazed skin, blinks of fervourish plea clawing from your drunken gaze into his. “Please, Toji,” your voice hitched, and you’re humping his pelvis. “Please…I want to feel good.”

Aww. How fucking adorable.

You yelped when you felt yourself being raised and slammed down his cock, your folds burning with every stretch of your walls. And it feels so good. “Y-Yes…” your eyes closed shut, fingers scrambling to grip his locks. “T-Toji—mhaa!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute screaming my name,” the curve of his tip perfectly kissed your g-spot with each piston of his hips, and every time the twitching head of his meat met your gummy part, it sent a flash of electricity up your spine.

“S-Sho good—” you slurred through your words, weighed head lolling idly to every thrust of his fat cock.

“No one can get you dripping off their cock like this, huh?”

“Mmh—yes!” the space between your brows was crumpled into a tensed frown, your hips bouncing up and down his thick girth with his hands guiding your pace. “I love it! I love your cock!”

Toji let out a low groan when you cried, bucking himself deeper into your sloppy mess of a cunt and kissing the surface of your cervix. “Fuck—I love an honest girl.”

Your muscles nearly melted off of your bones as he continued to fucked himself deeper than you’ve ever felt, reaching the parts you didn’t know could be touched and your features dropped with his touches on your deep intimacy. A fierce sear of heat burned through your tingling womb, and it threatened to consume your body whole. “M’ cummin’! Toji—!”

“I know, I know, let it out f’me. Come on,” he grunted, keeping his grip firm on your arms as he fucked himself hard and deep into you. He could feel your squelching cunny clench, so tight as for the purpose of milking him on the spot. “Keep bouncin’ on my cock, yeah?”

“Nngh—No more!” you squealed. “N-No—” his thumb drew between your shaking thighs and greedily swiped over your blushing clit. Your fingernails sank into your palms as you gripped for dear sanity, his cock continuously violating your fluttering spots until they grew sore.

“I can make you feel better, princess,” he mumbled tinglingly against your neck, sinking his teeth down your flesh to hold back a shaky moan. His pleasure was inching to fly to release, and your tight clutch onto his shaft was nothing but a catalytic lure.

“S’ hurts—please!” your babbles were almost indecipherable as he rammed into your sore cunt, his fingers digging into your soft flesh holding onto you tenaciously; pushing you right to the edge of oblivion as he clung onto his nearing release.

“Cum f’me again, baby?”

“M’can’t! Still sensitive—!” you cried before another orgasm shot through your core. You felt as if you were sent up into the ether, stars teeming through your body as the waves of pleasure sent you on a vertigo ride. Your gasps dragged through your lips, your eyelids hung heavily over your bleary eyes, with tears slipping down your hot cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—M’close too, baby,” Toji swore through his bared teeth, his cock painfully twitching as thick semen surged through his tip—his hips rolled as your cunt squeezed his remaining sanity, popping them like fireworks before they burst into nothingness.

Your essence squirted out of your tensed cunny, shooting with his mixed cum that dripped down his belly. Your breaths shaky and hot with heightened senses, your sticky sex pulsing in overstimulation.

Exhausted, you fell prostrated on top of his hard muscle-built body, head undulating with the ups and downs of his heaving chest. And slowly, your cognisance drifted back into your mind, the aftermath of everything—the alcohol and the sex, pummelled into you like a heavy truck. Unforgivingly so.

“Toji…I really feel like pukin—”

© toji-bunny-girl ― all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, plagiarise or repost my work

[xazse]

okay hear me out…. reverse hybrid au… with tigerhybrid!sukuna bc nobody else can handle him because he’s so aggressive and overbearing .. so reader is their last resort zoo caretaker and they’re is shocked at how it’s like reader has a leash on tigerhybrid!sukuna 😚

I’VE GOT IT?

Synopsis: You’re head of a completely different department so why are you being asked to help with an odd situation?

Warnings: Female!reader + Mean!Sukuna + cringe tropes (sorry) + Hybrid!Sukuna: ears and a tail + heat + cumming inside + doggy + NOTPROOFREAD!!! + obsessed!Sukuna

Pairings: Tigerhybrid!Sukuna x female!Reader

Notes: I’m really working to improve my writing for you guys!! Esp my non-English speakers

“Miss please you know we would never beg like this if it wasn’t urgent.”

“I don’t specialize in that field, how many times must I tell you?”

You were getting sick of these scientists coming to you more often than normal, there’s three right now begging for you to take on a case that you didn’t want to do.

“Sukuna is out of control, he’s already injured five of our best, now they refuse to work with him”

“And I should be the sixth?” You say with a quirk of your brow.

They all stop and stare at one another, you have a good ass point what makes them think that you’ll be the antidote for their beast they decided to keep.

“Like I said, my stance on this won’t change.”

Another voice in the doorway of your office speaks up: “I’ll upgrade your pay and have you transferred up.”

Your ears perk up at this offer, to go even further where you are right now means business and a fuck ton of money. On the flip side it means facing whatever they’re against but you’ve always been a little greedy for money so you oblige.

The scientists made sure to throw you in the thinnest garments: “to let him know you don’t have anything on you.” As they put it.

They also had told you no sudden movements and to talk with him in a calm manner, show him you aren’t afraid and find out what’s been making him so angry lately. Easy peasy except your life is on the line!

You disregard any negative thoughts of death and make your way into the place where they keep their hybrids, it’s like little apartments where they can do as they please in return for information on their biology, as far as you know they love it here. You’ve once met puppy!hybrids Satoru and Suguru they were very sweet men, needy but sweet.

Your first step into the apartment is met with a strong smell, a smell of something primal if that even has a smell. It’s warm.

You start poking around his place, checking his fridge and looking for anything out of the ordinary, nothing seems amiss though. It’s not until you come up to one of the doors and hear slight noises. You press your ear up closer making the noise more clearer: whining it sounds like whining.

Could he perhaps be In pain? You knock three times and announce you’re coming in. The door clicks and you start slowly pulling it open. You see the man in all his glory resting upon his bed, arms wrapped around his pillow and an unreadable expression.

Sukuna is big, he’s a big man compared to all the other hybrids, he’s brimming with pure muscle. Does he workout in here? Your thoughts are interrupted by slight growling: he’s warning you. Step any close r and he will have no choice but to harm you.

You pay him no mind, instead you step fully in and start looking around without a care in the world.

“You’re making trouble- why is that?” You say while looking through his dresser.

“You’re being extremely nosy, leave before I kill you.” He threatens harshly.

“If you harm me I’ll have you sent somewhere else, I know where you come from and I’m assuming you don’t want to go back.”

The room goes eerily silent like he’s making a choice, he opens his mouth to speak but a groan accidentally slips past his lips.

Oh… the big oaf is in heat, and top scientists couldn’t tell or try to track his cycle?

“You in heat big guy?”

“No-“

“Such a liar, I’m not here to make fun of you, I’m here to make sure you get proper help.”

“The only way I’ll get proper help is if I fuck someone.” So damn blunt you think to yourself.

He continues speaking: “I think you know they won’t allow that though.”

“Would you like some toys? I can request that for you.”

“Useless.”

You let out the loudest sigh and plop down on his fluffy bed. Bending your head in his direction you see he’s not looking at your face but your body, eyes fully trained on your pert nipples because of the cold.

You allow the poor suffering hybrid to mount you, putting a good bit of his weight on your back you can feel the outline of his thick meaty cock resting near your cunt and ass.

He’s hard, fully hard and probably has been for a while: you feel almost a little bad.

Sukuna doesn’t waste anytime grinding down against you, it feels so fucking good, his cock is accepting anything even if it’s the bare minimum. Everytime he meets your ass he whines, such a needy tiger you coo.

He’s ignoring all the dirty little comments you send his way too focused on the only good sensation he’s felt for a while, his hand doesn’t compare to your rounded ass. You reach between your legs and pull his shorts down, letting his cock bob free for a minute before he’s pushing up against you again.

He’s producing so much precum that youCan feel it through your silky garments.

“Smells so good… really good.” “Mhhhphmmm-“ he’s now being open with his groans too focused on the feeling of his tip prodding your clothed pussy. His swishing tail is within your eyesight, you grab it and rub it for extra stimulation.

You help him a little bit by bouncing your ass against him. He places his head in the crook of your neck and starts nibbling on your neck, you can feel how sharp his damn teeth are and pray to yourself he isn’t going to bite you: killing you in the process.

He doesn’t do any of that instead he just lightly bites, using no strength at all. While he’s busying tearing up your neck you slip your panties off, grabbing his fat length and teasing your wet hole. Just feeling it in your hand has your body burning up in arousal it’s been a while since you’ve had a cock, especially a cock his size.

You slowly start inching it in, the stretch is so damn unbearable and uncomfortable. When he feels what you’re doing he starts moving his hips already. An impatient thing such as him isn’t gonna wait. He gets about halfway in and you feel a thick liquid fill you, did this beast just cum? Already?

“Nhhhnn.. fuck-..” this doesn’t deter him because he’s sitting fully on his knees and pulling you flush against him, his entire length snuggly inside your pussy. He doesn’t wait to bounce you back on him, you can’t comprehend anything properly so shocked by how he just made you take every inch of him.

Your lashes flutter closed as he ruts into you like you’re the damn sex tox he’s been given, one he wasn’t gonna take care of properly. His hold on you is extremely tight so you can do nothing but take him fully, even when your walls threaten to constrict around him he pushes through it and keeps fucking Into you.

You allow him, allow him to thrust like a wild animal, mercilessly pulling all the way out of you just to slam back in. Drool is seeping down your neck where he’s latched on in droves. He’s far too gone, pussy has never felt this good.

By the end Sukuna is still rutting uselessly, he’s not even hard anymore he just can’t stop leaking cum nor has that good euphoric feeling stopped. He’s made a mess of your pussy, his cum and yours seeping down your thighs and onto his ruined sheets.

Hes licking at your face and you can hear a deep rumbling in his chest, this big hybrid is purring in content. Any attempt to move from under him is completely halted, he won’t let you move even an inch.

He begins sucking on your nipples, they’re definitely gonna be sore later but now it seems he just wants comfort and you fully give that to him. Rubbing his ears and whispering sweet nothings to him.

After that incident Sukuna is completely attached, he constantly whines for you to come see him including the scientists also calling for you to calm him down. He won’t let you have a moments peace.

Even when you tell him you’re extremely busy he’s having none of it, if he wants you to laze around and do nothing but rub him or praise/coddle him he completely expects it!

As his mate you’re meant to be with him all the time you should be grateful he’s even letting you leave the nest.

You were left fully shocked when he first called you his mate but the scientists explained that you were his first and now you are his last, they had all praised you because testing was made easier if you were there.

They’re all surprised to see him completely like mush under you, like one time when it was time for his blood to be drawn he made you come and sit in his lap while he had it taken. The doctors said he seemed to be completely smitten with you, in love and so possessive.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

The Love and Deepspace Boys Trying to Get You to Sleep ⋆｡°✩

Tags: Fluff, teasing, needy boys, mild sexual content, gender neutral reader (I had to re-write so please let me know if I messed up.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Xavier is surprisingly softer than you expected when you first met him on your mission together. He’s an incredibly powerful hunter but possesses a quiet and gentle, almost oblivious, aura when navigating everyday life, like a ghost floating through the space he takes up. It should also be understood that this very nature of his makes him affectionate, so much so, that he won’t unwrap his arms around your waist and stop pressing his head to your shoulder as you sit at the kitchen bar, typing on your laptop.

“Are you planning on staying up later than the stars?” he mumbles.

There’s a gentle yawn against your skin from the sluggish man, highlighting just how long he’s been trying to coax you into going to bed.

“I wanted to finish this report for work.”

“The report will be there tomorrow,” he says. You swat away his hand that reaches for the power button on the laptop causing him to pout. He grumbles. “You should go to bed. Otherwise, I can’t sleep.”

Smiling to yourself, you decide to tease him. “Oh, so you’re really trying to get me to go to bed for your own benefit?”

“Well, you can’t very well expect me to do it by myself anymore.” Xavier nuzzles his head into the slope of your neck, cuddling you. “It’s your responsibility since you ruined my sleeping habits.”

“Ruined?”

“Ramshackled,” he repeats quietly, causing you to giggle. With an airy sigh, he presses his weight into you more. “How do you expect me to sleep when I can’t hold you?”

Defeated, you save your work and close the laptop. You swivel in your chair, enough to meet his eye, and cup a hand to his cheek. It never stops being endearing to you how he cutely closes his eyes and angles his head to snuggle your palm.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to beg.”

His eyes flutter open, and the smile on his face grows as he wraps his fingers around yours. Carefully, he pulls on your hand to bring it up enough to begin to lace your wrist with affectionate kisses, tracing your pulse.

“I thought you enjoyed my begging.”

“That’s different.”

“It isn’t,” Xavier mutters into your skin, pressing another light kiss.

“It is.”

“So, you're resolute about that position?” he questions “innocently”. There’s something mischievous about the glint in those arctic eyes, which makes your face warm. You find yourself breaking eye contact, or else you’d lose it.

“Yes.”

Xavier chuckles then begins to lead his kisses down your arm. “In that case, care to explain the difference in detail, love?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Sleep.”

“But—”

“Sleep.”

Zayne narrows his eyes at you from his side of the bed. You can’t blame him for being a little annoyed right now but the movie you put on to fall asleep was much better than you expected; and instead of falling asleep, you were more awake than ever at a very late one in the morning.

“I’m almost done with the movie,” you tell him, hoping he’ll cut you a little slack this one time.

“Everyone dies at the end of their own stupidity,” he bluntly states and grabs the remote. The television turns off with an overly loud click, and you pout. “Now, sleep.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m fine with that title if it gets you to rest,” he explains with a smooth yawn. “Poor sleep habits lead to bad decision-making later. You’re more likely to develop high blood pressure, and with your heart in particular—”

“I get it. I get it,” you say, wanting to be spared the lecture. Zayne is a good person and a better doctor, but you wish he didn’t worry about you so much just because you might have a little big heart problem. Sighing, you squiggle onto your back and pull the sheets up to your collar, kicking them a little childishly in the process (totally not to let him know that you were not pleased with his spoiling). “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Very.”

Zayne turns over onto his side, away from you, and you frown at the loneliness. Softly, you poke him in the back, once, then twice then a third time before you finally get a hum in response.

“Am I really not getting a good night kiss?”

“Do you need one to sleep?” he asks, his voice deeper from the lack of sleep, urging you to convince him to kiss you even more.

“Duh,” you explain. Slowly, he turns back over to look at you, propping himself up on one arm with a look that says “Is that so” as you continue to ramble. It makes you a little flustered when he watches you so intently. He’s always had this silent dominance that makes you obedient, but you could get what you want from him just as easily with the exact opposite strategy. Cutely, you puff your bottom lip out at him. “There has to be some health benefit to it. Kissing makes people all happy. Happy is good, right?”

It takes a second for him to take in what you say, those smokey eyes closing in on you with thought before he climbs over you. He places both hands at your sides and quickly boxes in your upper thighs with his knees.

“You’re thinking of dopamine,” he says.

“Huh?”

“That makes you “all happy”,” he explains and presses a deep kiss to your lips, leaving you thoughtless and breathless all at once. He moves to your jaw, and you begin to squirm from the pressure of his impassioned lips.

“And Serotonin.”

Another kiss, lower.

“Oxytocin.”

He’s at your shoulder when he starts to nip your skin, and one of his hands moves to ski up the back of your thigh.

“Reduced cortisol.”

Flustered, you grip his arms.

“Zayne, stop, it tickles,” you whine, but it’s the last thing you actually want as he readjusts his position and hovers above you.

His usually neat hair is messier and his breathing a little heavier judging by how his chest laboriously rises and falls. Groaning, you bite your bottom lip as he knowingly leans in and whispers,

“You need it to help you sleep, isn’t that what you said?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why don’t you just say you don’t love me anymore?”

You look up from your phone screen at the sudden accusation. You’re resting on the couch, your back propped up by the armrest and legs splayed out on the other cushion while Rafayel looks down at you with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased scowl on his face. You’re entirely confused as to what you could’ve done to make him think something like that.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been playing video games for what—the last two hours?” he says, uncrossing his arms to grab your phone. It’s too late to warn him as he glances at the screen, clicking a few times. “What are you playing anyway? An…otome? Sheesh, go ahead and say you want me gone. Come on, tell me you actually hate me.”

Holding in your smile, you shake your head and affectionately roll your eyes. It takes an enormous amount of effort to not laugh as he continues to rant. “So, it’s one of those things. I thought I was actually in trouble.”

And by those things, you mean his dramatics.

“Hush, my complaints are perfectly legitimate,” he demands as he pushes your legs aside and sits on the couch. Leaning over, he flashes the screen at you to show the evidence he has that you’re completely unfair, unfaithful, and downright mean. “What’s this game giving you that I’m not? Are my dashing good looks and even better personality not enough? Is that it?”

Gently, you take the phone from his hand and set it down on the end table. “You’re plenty, perfect even.”

He scoffs and refuses to look at you. “Apparently not. Don’t you ever think about anyone else? What if I want to cuddle with you one day but you’re too busy to notice because you’re playing silly games?”

Ah, there it is. His real want. You never know why he can never just come out and say it.

“Rafayel, do you want me to come to bed and cuddle with you?”

“Want is a strong word,” he remarks but you can see his resolve (can you call it that when he planned to give in all along?) crumbling as he slowly turns back to meet your gaze, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Not that you deserve it or care.”

Humming, you sit up, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him down onto you. Lovingly, you snuggle him, stopping to only take in how red his neck and ears start to get when you squeeze him and start to stroke through his hair. You’re not sure if Lumerians can blow happy bubbles like he claims, but he definitely hums and relaxes his entire body weight to lay on top of you like he wants to sink into your skin.

Teasingly, you coo at him. “You’re so needy.”

“I’d rather say you humans aren’t needy enough,” he fires back as he wraps an arm around your waist and kisses the corner of your lips. “Ah, the sweet taste of victory.”

Giving out a gentle and short laugh, you lightly tap his back. “Go to sleep.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “MY BOYFRIEND IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS !”

WINDBREAKER BOYS PROTECTING YOU FROM PERVS. ft. kaji ren, togame jo, umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, hayato suo, toma hiragi, kiryuu mitsuki, & kyotaro sugishita x f!reader

sfw. wc: 2.6K. oh how i’ve been wanting to write this since i finished the manga! but individual warnings are below <3

KAJI REN. referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ comments about your outfit

“My boyfriend’s real scary y’know.” Your voice falters a bit as you take another step back, hands coming up defensively. “And he’ll be here any moment.”

It’s a lie that you hope sounds convincing— because Kaji coming to save you today may be nothing more than a desperate wish of yours. How would he even find you in a place like this? You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed since you’ve started running, but you’re certain that by now, you and Kaji should have already been inside the bakery, finally getting to taste test the new fruit pastries you’d been dying to get your hands on.

It started off as just a loud whistle your direction, then led to an uncomfortable conversation about how you’re not interested— and that you have a boyfriend. One thing led to another, and somehow you’ve ended up here, out of breath from speed walking and completely lost— and to top it off, the only person near you is the one you’ve been running so desperately from.

You wish Kaji was here already.

“Oh yeah?” The man in front of you takes a step towards you, lips contorting into a sick grin when he sees your hands trembling. “I don't see him.”

Your lips tremble a bit when he reaches you, towering over you with ease. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You warn, “My boyfriend will beat your a—” you yelp as you’re suddenly pulled to the side, stumbling into someone’s chest as they pull you flush against their front.

The familiar scent of candy melts away your fear in a split second.

“Kaji!”

You can tell when you glance at him just once that he isn’t happy. His forehead is damp with sweat, and he looks disheveled, chest rising up and down with labored breaths— he must have been running around trying to find you this entire time.

Your boyfriend clicks his tongue in annoyance, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the man in front of him. “Problem?”

He rips off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck as the man feigns an apology, unapologetic eyes looming over your figure again seconds later. “But y’know man, you should be keeping a closer eye on your girl,” he points to you with a smug smile, “she was practically begging for me to say something with the way she’s dressed.”

“I wasn’t!” You protest, face burning as you tug on ren’s coat. You thought your outfit was cute— and definitely not anything crazy— you double checked. You really did. But he’s pointing at you now, rambling on about how you wanted this— and you can’t help the way tears start to blur your vision.

“Huh?” Kaji snarls, head tilting to leer at the man. The arm around your waist pulls you tighter against his chest, and you hear the angry thumping of his heart. “What'd you say?”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving now.” The man chuckles in defeat. “I was just joking. Wasn’t gonna actually do something to your girl.” he waves him off. “You should lighten up—”

He chokes when Kaji grabs a fistful of his shirt, pulling him off balance before knocking him backwards, your pursuer falling roughly onto the floor as he winces in pain. “Then get outta here already.” Kaji glares, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand is pressing against your lower back to guide you away.

“And don’t let me catch you looking at my girl again.”

TOGAME JO. referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ you wear his jacket

Togame gives you a sleepy smile as he watches you from Miniso’s entrance, excitedly sorting through the newly restocked blind boxes. He was resting his back against the wall behind him when he caught his first glimpse of that guy.

He’s wearing a dark hoodie, head turning back to shamelessly stare your direction as he passes by slowly. It’s enough to get togame back up on his feet immediately, quickly heading your way just as the man reaches to get a feel of your thighs—

“How shameless.” Togame laughs, big hand squeezing painfully into his wrist. “Tryna bother my girl?”

In any other situation, Togame would chuckle at your obliviousness, your headphones cancelling out any noise as your eye catches the cinnamoroll section, letting out an excited gasp as you head that way. You really had no idea.

“M-my bad man.” He stutters, ripping his arm from Togame’s grasp. “Just thought she was my sister— was just gonna tap on her back to grab her attention.”

Togame raises an eyebrow at the lazy excuse, leaning down until the man takes a nervous step back, eyes darting to the side to avoid Togame’s glare. “Sister? That’s my Shishitoren jacket she has on, no?”

The man feels heavy beads of sweat roll down his face when Togame’s hands curl into clenched fists. “You mean to tell me your lil sis is from Shishitoren?”

“I said it was my bad,” he repeats, chuckling nervously. “It won’t happen again okay? I won’t bother her again.”

Togame’s hands return to his pockets. “Won’t let you off so easy next time,” his voice is low as he steps aside to let him off, “so you’d better keep your distance.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME. referred to as she/her, ‘your girl’

Umemiya instinctively perks up when he hears two voices behind him, momentarily tuning out your gushing about how cute the little plant kits at barnes and noble are.

“….She's probably taken.”

“Is that her boyfriend behind her? Think she's talking to him.”

There's a chuckle between them. “Doesn’t matter. Go tell her what you just said to me when she's alone.”

“What?” The man laughs. “Ask her if i can grab a handful of that ass?”

More laughter.

Umemiya’s jaw clenches, eyes darting back at you in a flash, and he’s relieved when he sees you’re still gushing about the flower kits— completely oblivious to the two men just beyond this aisle. He’s by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh.” You turn to press a quick kiss against his temple, smiling when he melts into your touch. “Hi, Haji. Did you find a book?”

“Nothing here.” He sighs dramatically, his embrace around your middle tightening just enough for you to barely notice. “But we can grab some of those flower kits.”

“Really?”

“Of course—”

“Hey.” A familiar voice interrupts him with a stifled laugh, followed by a tap on his shoulder. With the roughness, it’s more like a jab— but he lets that slide.

“Ah— your friend, Haji.” Your voice comes off as a mix between a question and a statement.

“Hey, my friend has something to ask your girl.”

Umemiya’s jaw clenches again, and your eyes widen a bit at the sudden change in the atmosphere. The first friend’s hand is swat off of his shoulder in a split second, Umemiya straightening back up to look back at them.

Their first thought is that he’s a lot taller than they had pictured. A lot more muscular too— and they take note of the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his shirt. “What, you have business with her?”

They flinch at the tone.

“Ah— sorry.” The second friend stutters. “We got the wrong person.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“Ah— what happened?” Your hands delicately cup Sakura’s face, ignoring the way his cheeks instantly turn into a deep shade of scarlet. “N-nothing happened!” He weakly swats at your hand, a futile attempt to dissipate the heat spreading through the tips of his ears.

“I was only in the bathroom for five minutes.” You laugh. “How’d you manage to get into a fight so fast?”

He stiffens when your arms come to wrap around his bicep, resuming your ramble about some recipe you wanted to try tonight. Macarons…or something. He doesn’t pay much attention, because he knows whatever you end up making will be good anyway.

“—Are you listening, Sakura?”

The clueless look he gives you confirms it. “So you weren’t. I had a feeling— but it’s okay.” You giggle. “But you didn’t answer my question from earlier either. How’d you get into a fight?”

His eyebrows furrow deeply as he decides whether or not he should tell you. “They were….” he clicks his tongue angrily, “they were talking about you when you walked by.”

You can feel his muscles tense as he deepens his scowl, still trying to fight off the blush plastered across his face. “I just gave ‘em what they deserved.”

HAYATO SUO. referred to as she/her, mentions of how you’re dressed

“What a bitch. She was totally asking for it.”

I know— dressed like a whore.”

Suo stands up from the bench outside your local convenience store, hands dusting off the dirt on his pants. You had asked him to wait outside earlier because ‘you wanted to grab him a super delicious snack that he would most definitely love.’

He had a feeling the two dirty men who entered the store minutes later were bad news, so he was already on high alert before listening in.

“That whore— you mean my girlfriend?” Suo’s voice comes out calm, a stark contrast to the sickening anger and pressure he feels building up inside his chest.

“Huh—oh. Yeah.” One of them chuckles, jutting their thumb at the entrance. “That bitch inside your girl? You let her prance around with her tits hanging out for everyone to see?”

He's calm and composed as they size him up, their chins tilting up to look down at him. “She's pretty, isn't she?” and Suo fails to stifle the chuckle that escapes his lips. “Did she reject you too harshly for your liking?”

One of them balls his fists, muttering profanities under his breath as he leans closer to him. “Now how'd you know that? You should really teach that bitch some fucking manners.” He reaches forward to grab Suo by the collar, eyes blinking in confusion when he finds himself spun behind Suo seconds later, feet struggling to find their balance.

“—The fuck did you do?”

“It’s a bad habit of hers,” Suo continues. “I understand it though, not wanting to be around a pathetic thing like you.” The edges of his lips tug into a faint smile.

The other man’s eyebrows twitch, spitting empty threats as he he throws a wide swing, only to find himself reduced to his knees seconds later. “T-the fuck...” he grumbles to himself— he could have sworn he could practically see his fist connect. What happened?

“You'd be better off looking for someone to protect yourself the way I do for her.” His words are mocking as he heads towards the store’s entrance. “And— it'd be really unfortunate if i see something like this happen again.”

TOMA HIRAGI.

“H-Hiragi? What are you doing?”

Your lips are pressed in a nervous line as your hands come to shyly rest on his chest, sucking in a breath when his arms come to roughly cage you against the train’s walls, strong body towering just over yours.

“Do you…need more space?” You whisper, heart racing at the proximity. You can smell his cologne so well at this distance.

Hiragi simply shakes his head, distracted gaze shifting between you and something behind him every few seconds. “It’s okay.”

He swears his stomach isn't churning like this without good reason. It’s not just a coincidence that the same person who he had noticed eyeing you at the boba shop had gotten onto the same train. He could let it go at that, but the same man had been slowly worming his way through the crowd to get closer to the two of you. And while he’s not certain, he thought he saw the man take out his phone and try and angle it beneath you, but not before jolting and dropping his phone onto the floor when Hiragi's hands abruptly slammed against the wall beside you.

The train suddenly rocks, sliding his phone to the other side of the train, and you’re knocked off balance, face slamming against Hiragi's chest. “S-sorry!”

“It’s okay.” He gives you a smile, hand coming to cradle the back of your head and pull you closer. “You okay?”

“I’m okay...” you mumble, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Your chest is hard.”

He responds with a light chuckle. It’ll be okay like this, he thinks. He’ll protect you with his body for now, and figure out what to do with that guy later.

KIRYU MITSUKI. ‘pretty thing’

“It’s no wonder she doesn't like you,” Kiryu sighs. “You're gross.”

Your mouth is ajar as you stare at the state of the man who was harassing you only moments ago, his unconscious body resting neatly against the wall after Kiryu had dragged him there.

“Sorry you had to watch that, pretty thing.” His hand comes to gently interlace with yours. “But he didn't leave me with much of a choice, did he?”

“It’s okay.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “That was so cool of you.”

His eyes widen a bit before his lips curl into a small smile. “Oh? You think so?”

“Mhm. I don't know what would’ve happened to me if you were there...” your voice trails off a bit.

You really don't know what would have happened, because it's not like you know how to fight or anything. Getting hit on is enough to make you nervous, so a pushy guy like that was too much— you froze up as soon as he started spitting threats after you expressed your disinterest.

There’s a light squeeze around your hands, and you’re reminded of this gentle warmth that Kiryu always brings with him. “Don't worry about it.” He gives you a small smile. “I’ll just need to accompany you more often when you go out. It’s no problem.”

KYOTARO SUGISHITA.

“You’re like a bodyguard, Kyo.”

You giggle at the huff beside you. “How’d you even react that fast?”

It all happened within a second. You were walking beside him, stopped for a brief second to bend down and peer at the plushies lining the shop window, not noticing the man approaching you— his grimy fingers coming to take a peek under your skirt. Before you had even registered the feeling of the cloth moving, there was a loud crack, and the man was on the floor, groaning with his hands covering his bloodied face and a very angry Sugishita on top of him.

“He made me angry.”

Of course he would be. And if you weren’t with your boyfriend, it would be an entirely different story. You’d bring along your assortment of self defense items, ranging from pepper sprays to taser lipsticks— and you’d be a thousand times more cautious. Pay extra close attention to everything around you.

With Sugishita, however, it’s different. You think of it as being able to turn off your brain… or something like that. Whatever lets you truly relax and enjoy your time with him, and it’s always okay because your boyfriend is there to protect you. “Well, don’t be so mad, cutie.” You smile, your fingers reaching to interlace with his as he tenses at the nickname.

“Everything is okay— I’m okay. I’ll even get us smoothies to help lighten the mood.”

He lets you drag him to your favorite smoothie shop in silence— still fuming about the incident. He wonders why you’re not shaken up. Ifnhe had been one second later, that piece of shit would have lifted up your skirt. In public. His jaw clenches at the thought, angry eyes darting at any anyone who dares look your direction.

“Why’re…” his voice trails off, remembering what Umemiya said about toning down his choice of words around others. “Why’re you so happy?”

“Hmm? I’m not too worried.” You laugh. “You’re my bodyguard right? Nothing will happen if you’re here.”

part 2

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. "Shut up, mom!" prank with JJK men.

➜ featuring: nanami kento, gojo satoru, geto suguru.

➜synopsis: your child(ren) has a death wish for sure.

➜note: wasn't able to pick a name for nanami's child. also sorry to the anon who sent this, i had a hard time understanding the request at first. anyway, part 2?

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

༉‧₊˚. NANAMI KENTO

“You need to start learning how to fold your clothes,” you mention casually to your daughter as you carry a basket of warm laundry to the couch.

“Why would I do that?” Nanami’s eyes look up from his book, but he doesn’t budge.

“When you move out, you will only have yourself to rely on,” you continue with the advice and your daughter rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the kitchen.

“Ugh moving out this, moving out that. Just say you want to get rid of me.”

“What–I would never, I’m just reminding you that one day you will become an adult and–”

“Oh just shut up, mom!” 

You truly gave birth to a mini you, a prankster. When you first saw the tiktok trend, you and your daughter had giggled to yourselves at the thought of getting a reaction out of her father. Though, you did warn her of the repercussions. Your husband did not play when it came to showing respect to you.

“I beg your pardon?” Nanami sits up from the couch so fast, it almost makes you jump out of your skin. You don’t have time to react, or hold him back before he is storming towards the kitchen where your teenage daughter was hiding. “What did you just say to your mother?”

“I said shut up, because she was bothering me.”

“And you think that’s one way to speak to my wife?” You see his eyebrows furrow, he even slams the book he was reading down on the kitchen counter so hard that his arm veins are about to pop out.

“Kento,” you walk up behind him, calling out his name softly.

“No, let me take this.”

“No baby listen–”

“I said I will take this.” It’s only when he repeats himself in a stern manner, that your daughter starts to giggle nervously.

“Daddy, it was a prank.”

“Yeah, baby it’s a prank.” You rub his shoulders and biceps reassuringly. Your daughter quickly wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest.

“I’d never be disrespectful like that.”

“Yeah well, it almost gave me a heart attack,” his voice is now much softer and warmer as he exhales, running his fingers through his daughter’s hair. He pulls you towards him and kisses your forehead before patting his daughter’s head.

“Now, whose idea was it?”

“Mommy’s.”

“Hey!” 

༉‧₊˚. GOJO SATORU

“Hey Ryuu, could you take out the trash please?” 

“No, I’m busy.” Satoru’s ears perk up at the sound of his son’s tone. But he doesn’t budge from where he’s standing in the kitchen.

“Baby, it’s been sitting there all day and it’s full. Could you please–”

“Shut up, mom. I said I’m busy.”

Normally, Satoru wasn’t easy to rile up. His relationship with his son was hilarious, one where he doted on his child whilst the latter pretended as though he couldn’t stand all the love and affection he received from his dad. But despite all the love that Satoru had for his son, you were number one. You come first, you are his wife and the mother of his child. When his son will leave, you will be the one he gets to spend the rest of his time with–and when he decided to marry you, a child wasn’t even in the picture.

So he will be damned if he was just going to stand there and let his son talk to you like that.

You freeze when you feel a sudden surge of cursed energy–you knew your husband when he got angry, it clouded over the rational part of his brain. So when you see him start to walk upstairs where his son is, you have to physically grab his arm to stop him. Thank god the infinity was off.

“Satoru– toru! Baby!”

“Who the fuck does he think he is, huh?” His eyes are glowing. You really shouldn’t have played this prank on him.

“It’s a prank baby.” 

“A prank?” It’s fascinating how this man can go from 0 to 100 back to 0 so quickly. He calms down so fast, glancing at the top of the stairs where he sees his son standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I told her it would be a bad idea.”

“I–hey! I didn’t think it was gonna be this bad,”

“I did,” Ryuu starts to walk down the stairs and past you two. “He’s said it before. He doesn’t play when it comes to people showing you respect, even if it’s his own son.” 

Satoru can only sigh at his son’s words before staring at you. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t…But I won’t lie, seeing you riled up like that–”

“I’m too old to have a sibling!”

༉‧₊˚. GETO SUGURU

Your girls were a giggly mess. You shush them before saying very loudly.

“In what world is this acceptable?” 

“Mom,” your daughter, Tsukimi, feigns an annoyed tone, refusing to look up from her phone. “I really don’t care.”

“But I do.” You stand over her bed, motioning for her twin sister to get into the role as well.

“Does it matter?” Asahi uses the same annoyed, bored tone. One that quickly catches Suguru’s attention. He walks into the main area from the garage before hearing the argument upstairs. 

Quickly wiping his hands with the dirty rag attached to his pants, he starts to make his way up to your twin daughters’ room to see what it was about. 

“Of course it does, I’m your mother.”

“You’re really just pushing it.”

“You sneaked out last night! Do you know how disappointed your father will be?” Suguru freezes up at the revelation. But he doesn’t let his disappointment or anger get the best of him, maybe the four of you can work this out–your girls were at a rebellious age, this was bound to happen and all he needs to do is figure out a way for all of you to get along without–

“Aren’t you supposed to be our best friend or something?” Tsukimi sits up on the bed, furrowing her eyebrows in a way that reminds you how similar her and her father’s features are. 

“Right now I’m your mother.” 

“Oh would you just shut up?”

A loud slam makes the three of you flinch, and you turn to find Suguru standing by the door looking as angry as a raging bull.

“Who said it.”

“Wha–”

“Who said it. Who was it?” He is so furious you could see steam coming out from the top of his head. “Have you lost your fucking minds to be talking to your mother like that? Did I fail at educating you or what?”

“Suguru–”

“No,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you out of the room. “I need to talk to them.”

“No wait, listen–”

“I don’t want to hear it.” When you see that he had a stern look on his face, you realize that you need to save your daughters from the prank.

“It was a prank. I promise you.” 

“It really was a prank,” your twin daughters are sitting on the same bed, looking as sheepish and as guilty as ever. 

“And it was my idea,” Tsukimi adds. 

“And I didn’t stop her.” Your thumbs trace his cheeks, smiling apologetically at him. “Sorry,” 

Suguru sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he shakes his head.

“Fucking prankters. That almost gave me a heart attack.”

“But admit it, we’re good actresses, right?” Asahi asks with a grin and Suguru chuckles before ruffling her hair.

“Yeah, you sure are.”

➜ ┊: COMMISSIONS | KOFI

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