#YOU KILLED HIS BOYFRIEND. MULTIPLE TIMES.

[saeist]

it was just a mission. something about gathering intel at some event. it's simple, you've done this multiple times but the main problem? your boyfriend is pretty hands on with these kinds of missions

it wasn't out of the ordinary that you would be sent out on missions with nagumo. you two are members of the order and maybe to the higher ups, it was way more convenient this way (not that you minded)

now here you are, in a bar at some skyline rooftop in tokyo, gathering much information you can about an upcoming grand ball happening in a few weeks

your boyfriend, who happens to be your work partner is seated beside you, casually having a great time at the bar

in work settings, you and nagumo maintained a professional relationship. not only that it helps with your work ethics, it also prevents potential problems that may come in your way with your relationship (in regards to the work place. you wouldn't want to bring problems into your own home, now would you?)

but sometimes nagumo may take things too far just like right now.

nagumo had managed to find an important figure for the event and as expected, he charms his way to get information out of her. you watch them like a hawk as nagumo basically impresses this woman so much that she's already spilling company secrets to him

in retrospect, nagumo could've gotten this information in millions of different ways and scenarios. he has done shit like this too many times to count but since you were his partner for this specific mission, where's the fun in doing things he'd usually do without you?

he takes a look around the bar. just for a second to check if you were already looking at him– you are

nagumo holds in his smirk as he turns his attention back to the poor woman who was now babbling on about her life and company secrets

"that's cool" nagumo nods along to whatever the woman was yapping about, "so you're like super involved with the process of the production? that's interesting" nagumo hums, his voice dropping an octave lower in order to sound seductive just to see your reaction

now, you aren't exactly the jealous type. you were an assassin, you were bound to get into situations like this. it's all part of the job but something about nagumo flirting his way through this mission was rubbing you the wrong way

was it the drinks? it couldn't be. you are basically trained to withstand alcohol consumptions no matter how much you drink

the woman was now wrapped around nagumo's finger with the way she was giggling like crazy. twirling her hair and all as she leans onto nagumo's chest

nagumo got her right where he wanted

nagumo pauses his little chitchat with the woman to steal a glance towards your direction. you aren't exactly looking right at them but your bloodlust and hostility was going off the roof that nagumo couldn't help but look over

when you feel his gaze, you only look at him with a neutral expression though nagumo sees right through it. your eyes don't lie. you wanted to kill both the woman and him at the same time. he can literally see how you wanted them dead on the spot

the woman, still oblivious to your presence nor what you meant to nagumo, decides to take it up a notch and place her hand on nagumo's exposed chest

nagumo's eyes widened as he tries to pry her hands off of him. oh fuck, he thinks to himself. totally not expecting the woman to be handsy

the woman caresses his chest as she stares at him like he was eye candy (he is). she couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his exposed tattoos. fuck. maybe i should've just kept it at bay from the start, nagumo thinks to himself. he then stiffens when he feels the woman brush her fingers against his tattoos. his hand flies towards her wrist to brush her off as politely as he can.

nagumo tries to keep his expression as casual and neutral as he can but how could he when he can feel your intense stare at the side of his face.

he's so fucking dead

you click your tongue loudly in annoyance. the glass in your hand cracked under your grip. you were too busy ignoring the simmering feeling to notice til you felt some liquid seep through your fingers. nagumo nervously looks over at your direction again, trying to telepathically tell you to calm down

"so nagumo, any plans for tonight?" the woman purrs, leaning back on him

okay. that was your last straw.

you slam the glass down on the countertop, breaking it into tiny pieces. you push yourself off the bar as you make your way to the car. the mission might as well be over with since nagumo basically gathered all the information you two needed

nagumo winces as the glass shattered. even scaring the poor woman who's all over him. she grumbles about how you were too drunk to notice that you were getting physical

"i'll be going to the bathroom for a bit, excuse me" nagumo chirps, effortlessly pushing the woman off of him as he catches up to you

he's definitely done it this time around

nagumo makes a face as he rushes towards the parking lot where you were likely most waiting in. he considers the mission done when he got every possible detail needed for the upcoming plans

now onto his next mission: how to calm your not so jealous, jealous girlfriend down

when he makes it to the parking lot where your car was parked at. he was pleasantly surprised that you were waiting for him. for a second there he thought he would have to take an uber back home

you were busy distracting yourself on your phone when you hear a knock at the window. without even looking up, you unlocked the car and waited for nagumo to get inside

"hi" he greets, sitting on the passenger seat, "have i ever told you that you look beautiful tonight?" nagumo smiles, leaning over to your side to peck your cheek

you don't spare him a glance. hell, you didn't even acknowledge him. instead, you start the car and get the fuck out of the parking lot

"whoa! someone's in a hurry" nagumo jokes, gripping on the grab handle tightly as you floor it through the streets of tokyo. you ignore him and grip the steering wheel tighter. so tight that your knuckles turned white

you can't tell if nagumo still couldn't get the hint with the way he was just sitting in the passenger seat like the passenger prince he is. your eyes flicker towards his direction for a second and there you see his infamous smile on his face

for some reason that just upset you further

so you took a sharp turn that the tires were screeching. nagumo yelps in surprise

"babe, i'm gonna throw up at this rate with the way you're driving!" nagumo whines, reclining the seat back so he could rest a little. he was already getting a little car sick

"then get out and walk home" you snap, slamming on the breaks. nagumo was thankful that he had his seatbelt on or else he would've already flew out of the windshield

"oh so you are mad.." nagumo murmurs, "like mad mad"

you never wanted to strangle your own boyfriend til now. you can't even tell if he's being serious or being a little shit (it's most likely the latter) but the icky green feeling in your stomach was basically controlling you and your emotions right now

your silence was the answer nagumo needed. he lets out a chuckle. you are so easy to read

"is my baby jealous?" he teases, nudging you a bit. you shake off his touch, not wanting him to touch you in any way shape of form despite being in the same car as him, "you totally are" he coos, laughing at your reaction

you grit your teeth in annoyance, "i don't know, am i?"

nagumo hums, entertained by this whole conversation. he has never seen you act like this so this was a first. who knew you'd be cute like this

"it was just for the mission, baby. don't be upset" he says, reaching out to pinch your cheeks

"it wasn't just the mission, nagumo. you let her flirt with you" you seethe, frustration and irritation bubbling inside you

nagumo leans back on his seat, tapping his finger on his chin as if he was deep in thought. "well, i had to get the information one way or another so why not make her believe that she was some hot shit?"

"so you think hitting on people even when you have an actual partner, that was beside you the whole time mind you! would be the perfect way to fish out information? wow" you retaliate, shoulders dropping as you stare at the empty road in front of you

nagumo winces at your words

"okay maybe the flirting bit was a little too much–"

"what the fuck? so does that mean you do this every single time when you need intel behind my back? all this fucking time?" you cut him off, turning to nagumo with hurt evident on your features

nagumo's eyes widens at your accusation. he would never!

"what? baby no! i would never do that to you!" nagumo argues, sitting up properly. the look on your face is something he never wants to see ever again. seeing the hurt on your face hurt him more than a blade piercing through his skin

"i mean that maybe this time it was too far! i would never do that to you. it just so happens that the woman was flirting with me even if i was just being nice! i'm sorry baby. for the woman and for the way i acted tonight. i'm sorry" nagumo apologizes sincerely

you don't say anything. you continue to focus on the road so you could get home in one piece. nagumo waits and watches for your reaction but when he notices that you aren't saying anything he sighs

nagumo carefully reaches out for your hand that was on the gear shift. he slowly intertwines them together and places your hand on his lap

"baby, i'm really sorry that i made you feel this way. it wasn't my intention" nagumo rubs his thumb across your hand, "i just thought it may be a little funny to see how you'd react if i let other people flirt with me–"

luckily you were already on your street by the time nagumo was rambling because hearing his words just now made you slam on the breaks

"jesus babe. if you want to kill me then just stab me in the heart instead of trying to make me fly off the car" nagumo groans as he lurches forward but the seatbelt that he was wearing prevented him from flying out

"you deserve it" you glare at him, shaking off his hand as you exit the car. nagumo follows like a lost puppy

by the time you finally get inside your shared apartment, you were still irritated with nagumo, who has not left your side since. he's been following you around the house. from the living room to the bathroom and now at the kitchen where you were making yourself some tea to wind down before going to bed

nagumo wraps his arms around your frame and rests his head on your shoulder as you boil water on a kettle

"... are you still mad at me?" he mumbles in your ear, watching you add your usual spoons of sugar on your cup

you huff, "is it not obvious?"

"sorry"

nagumo pouts and decides pushes his luck. he presses a soft kiss on your cheek, in attempt to make you swoon. usually on normal days, this would've worked

"that's not gonna work this time around" you grumbled, turning off the kettle as it goes off. you pour yourself some hot water as nagumo continues to hold you close to him

"what is?" nagumo decides to play coy. again, you were just so easy to read. this time instead of kissing your cheek, his lips ghost against your jawline. nagumo feels you stiffen at the gesture. he smirks, hands sliding down your abdomen before they rest on your hips

"still mad?" he purrs in your ear. you shiver when you feel him finally press his lips against your jawline and trail kisses along side of it. he then flips you around, your back is now pressed against the cold tiles of your kitchen island. you stare at nagumo with wide eyes. you were supposed to be mad at him!

nagumo leans in, slowly closing the distance between you. his eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes like he was waiting for you to say something but instead he notices the way your breath hitches and your fingers twitching against the countertop like you were holding yourself back

"if you're still mad then let me make it up to you, baby" nagumo chuckles, hands rubbing random shapes on your exposed skin. you narrow your eyes at him, silently challenging him to bring it on. you aren't going to give in that easily

although all those thoughts go out the window the moment you feel his lips against yours. as cheesy as it is and no matter how long you've been dating nagumo, every time you two kiss its like time slows down and sparks fly

your hands immediately find their way around his neck, closing the distance. nagumo hums against the kiss, looks like he finally won you over

things take a turn after that and let's just say your tea is now long forgotten and maybe he may or may have not made it up to you

[kathbunny]

Davion goes to the cafe. Doesn't know how to feel about this. Also doesn't know how to feel about Dani barely restraining the urge to insult him (it's weirder when she's fake nice)

Thank you to the discord for the ideas!!

"You know, thinking about it, I still feel like it's a little weird to be going to your boyfriend's work together." Davion said as he followed behind Cressida. "Mostly because it's a maid cafe. I feel like if it was a normal restaurant, it'd be more normal."

"Oh, he's not working today anyway." Cressida said, turning a corner and stopping, motioning to the aforementioned cafe. "Here it is! Too late to turn back now."

"What do you mean he's not working today? Why are we here then?"

"You'll see." Cressida said, smiling a little too went as she went to open the door.

Davion, as there was nothing else he could do, followed. He hadn't ever been in a maid cafe before, for very obvious reasons, but his first thought upon walking inside was that it looked kind of shit. Cressida apparently had a reservation and they were brought over to a booth off in a corner.

"Dani will be right with you in a moment!" The blonde who had guided them to their table and given them menus had said, before skittering off to go handle one of her tables. They didn't even have a specific person for the host stand.

Davion took a long moment to process the name. No, no, it couldn't possibly be the same Dani. Maybe he misheard it. It could be a Danny or Danni or Danie or something. Cressida's smile implied his thoughts were probably incorrect though.

"If that's who I think it is, I believe I'll have a good reason to hate you."

"You'll thank me later." Cressida said, picking up the menu to start looking through it.

Davion did the same, trying to distract himself from his impending doom. He didn't even look up when he heard somebody approach and stop at the table, only to see the scuffed up shoes that went with the maid uniform as he tried to keep his head down.

"Welcome home, masters!" Dani began, voice forced to higher pitch, but still not losing the gravel her voice normally had, making the tone even more awkward. "I'm Dani and I'll be serving you to-" She suddenly cut herself off, which earned a chuckle from Cressida.

"Hey." Cressida greeted, waving.

Davion forced himself to look up at Dani, being greeted by the most strained fake smile. And the fact her hair was blue rather than ginger. A wig? It didn't look like a cheap one if it was. Unless her usual ginger was the actual wig? Her dress was a dark blue, almost black, with a ruffly apron over top of it. She had earrings even, multiple per ear, the sort you'd see on somebody trying to look cool and edgy. None of it really fit the raccoon-like classmate Davion knew, she didn't even seem to brush her hair in the morning normally.

"...hi, Dani." Davion also greeted, giving the smallest wave. "Cool seeing you outside of school." He said with a wince.

Dani took a deep breath. "What do you mean? I don't think I've ever met you before, master!" She lied through her teeth, her cheeks were visibly darkening though. "I have a twin sister attending college near here though! Maybe that's who you know!"

"...uh-huh." Davion said. "Sure. Okay."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Anyway!" Dani said, clapping her hands together before continuing with what seemed to be a practiced spiel.

-

Cressida and Davion parted ways outside of the cafe after eating, Cressida heading off to do some shopping and Davion just planning on heading home. As he was walking past the corner, he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder by something and dragged off into an alleyway. This was how he died, this would be how he was forever remembered, last seen in a maid cafe.

"Okay, motherfucker, how did you find out where I worked?" Dani hissed.

Davion blinked a few times. "Cressida forced me to be there." He said immediately.

"I'm going to kill her."

"She learned it from Roy." Davion added.

Dani grumbled something under her breath before releasing him. "Don't tell anyone."

Davion raised his hands in surrender. "Of course, of course. I'll tell nobody your secret embarrassing job. On my honor."

"You have no honor."

"On my car that you hate."

"I don't hate your car, just how bad you are at caring for it."

"Right." Davion said, dusting himself. "I'm leaving. I hated this whole experience."

So today in the discord I ended up talking about a crack maid cafe au

Basic summary is just: Oto runs a maid cafe for whatever reason, the crew plays the Heap folks all work there.

Maxim and VR-LA are roommates, but VR-LA is keeping his job a secret! And this is just Maxim finding the maid outfit and having the wrong assumption immediately.

CW: sexual content

Maxim stepped into VR-LA's room, carrying the basket of clean laundry under one arm. He had finished picking his clothes out of the recently dried clothes, so he figured he could just put the basket on VR-LA's bed for until he got home. As he put it on the blue quilt, he noticed the edge of something sticking out from the closet door. It had probably gotten caught before VR-LA left.

It'd probably get messed up like that, so Maxim just went up to the door and slid it open. A dress? Maxim let his curiosity get the better of him for a moment, moving the hangers slightly to get a better look at it. His face heated up near immediately as he realized what it was. A maid dress? VR-LA owned a maid dress? And he used enough to hang it up rather than just storing it in one of the boxes in the closet?

Maxim glanced at the apron, which was tied to the hanger, seeing that there was something in the pocket. He couldn't tell what from the shape, but he also wasn't sure if he wanted to know. He stared for a moment longer, seeing something else was awkwardly hanging off the hanger. A garter.

Maxim shut the closet. If VR-LA was active in such ways, it was none of Maxim's business. Maxim repeated that in his own head as he marched his way out of VR-LA's room and back into the living room. He started looking for something else to busy his hands and mind, but his mind wandered anyway.

VR-LA did go out often, he had plenty of fairly eccentric friends, it wasn't too out of the question that he might be participating in some form of kink with somebody, or even multiple people. Possibly that MR-SN man that VR-LA followed around like a lost puppy. Maxim found that there were no chores left, so he just started folding the dish towels that they normally just piled into a little basket on the counter. And VR-LA did seem fairly out there himself when it came to his interests, half his shelf was science books and the other fantasy. Maids appeared in quite a few fantasy stories, right? And some of the shows VR-LA liked?

Maxim paused, realizing folding towels were giving him no distraction. Maybe he could prep for dinner then. That could occupy his mind. Not the images of VR-LA in that outfit. VR-LA hadn't ever shown it to Maxim, so it wasn't for Maxim to see. Why would he even show it to Maxim though?

[silverraes]

[saudebazi]

.

[troublcmakcrs]

//ALL SHIT-ASS MEN IN MEDIA EVER DO IS FUMBLE BAGS THAT I PERSONALLY WOULD NOT

[pepperyduck]

ridin' nanamin for the first time...

a/n: nsfw, riding, methinks this fits older boyfriend nanami so let’s say implied age gap😊 18+ mdni!

"ken, i wanna try to ride you."

your immodest request had taken your boyfriend by surprise, such forward ways of speaking often foreign to you. you had "tried" to ride him before, though it was more of a little grinding while you were on top. this time was going to be different, though, you were going to ride him.

"oh?" he'd all but coo, lacing his words with a slight mockery, "is that so?" kento's cunning, rare smile towards you afterwards almost makes you give in; but no, you're determined.

not without a little teasing, you set yourself up atop the older man, legs hiked up on either side of his waist with your feet planted firmly into the bed. reaching down, you guide the thick head of nanami's cock to your already sopping entrance, easing your hips down to take all of him.

you swat at kento, signaling you need some type of leverage, and his big, experienced hands come to interlock fingers with yours. it's sweet, really, how his arms hold you up so effortlessly while you struggle to remain composed on top of him. his muscles become more exposed and veinier as he continues to balance your weight against him.

conjuring up whatever strength you have, you lift yourself up with your legs and plop! back down, eyes completely focused on the reaction you're to receive from kento. yet he only finds it amusing how attentive you are to his pleasure, and he gives you to go-ahead to try it again.

this time, you try a series of multiple little bounces, each little 'plop' becoming increasingly heavier with each drop of your pelvis. but the one thing that drives you to not stop, to keep going without the need for hesitation, is the expression that comes over your boyfriend's face.

it's...intense. kento's eyebrows furrow together, his eyes close lightly, and every previous appearance of a smile is wiped from his lips as they form into a small 'o' shape. he looks as if he's focused, even with his eyes shut, on how your body tries so hard to pleasure him.

and the thing that really kills him is that you keep going. because he was so used to you being fucked dumb so easily, giving yourself up to him within the first few seconds of his intoxicating touch.

but kento can understand the thrill of the power he's giving you.

you muster up all the adrenaline left in your cells, legs burning with such fever you hate yourself for taking on this feat, pushing into your boyfriend's arms to keep yourself upright. strings of slick connect from the base of nanami’s cock to your cunt, a downright obscene sloshing and squelching coming from where the both of you interlock.

though your body aches for you to stop, you can't, not now. the constant unwinding of kento's brick wall attitude is too inebriating for you to quit.

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ BETTER THAN YOUR BOYFRIEND! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...what happens when your boyfriend cheats on you and you look towards your best friend for help

INFO...jjk men (toji, gojo, geto, nanami) x fem!reader, reader gets cheated on, riding, sending a video to your ex, oral (f!receiving), car sex, kinda cute/some fluff in the beginning, pet names (doll, princess, baby, sweetheart), creampie, possessiveness, choking, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

ᯓ★ TOJI

When you showed up on Toji’s doorstep in the middle of the night with tears pouring down your face he was more than ready to kill whoever made your cry. He wasn’t surprised when you told him your shitty boyfriend had cheated on you and not with just one girl but multiple. Toji never liked your boyfriend, he could tell that guy was up no to good from the start, reading him like a book. He’d be sure to beat the shit out of him once he helped you gain composure.

“I’m sorry for showing up so late,” you hiccuped as he wiped your tears.

“Don’t worry about it, doll. You know I’m always here for you.” He gave you a soft smile. Toji hated to see you this way, you were too pretty to be crying over some guy who looked like he crawled from the sewers. “That guy was a piece of shit. You deserve better.”

“But, every guy I’ve been with or tried to be with has done me so wrong!” It only made more tears spill from your eyes. Toji engulfed you in a hug, rubbing your back. “Toji?” You sniffled.

“Yeah?” He pulled away from you, wiping your tears again.

“Kiss me. Right now,” you demanded. You had to see for yourself if what you’ve been feeling these last couple of weeks was absolutely true. Toji had zero clue, but you’ve been thinking about him way too much, more than a best friend should, feeling more than a best friend should. And when he planted his lips on yours, cupping your face, kissing you like a starved man, you didn’t quite expect your tears of sadness to be turned into tears of pleasure.

“Nnngh, Toji!” You moaned, his fat tip rubbing against your g-spot with each thrust of his hips. Your arms clung around his neck, fingers resting in his black silky hair.

“Can’t—mmm, fuck—believe he’d cheat on you! His fucking loss!” He growled in your ear, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, hugging you close to him. Your pussy clenched down around him, milking him for his every worth, juices dripping down his length and onto his balls. “So tight, doll—oh shit!” He grunted. Lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room, echoing off the walls around you. “Been wanting you forever, craving you.”

Your brows furrow in pleasure, barely able to contain your moans as you and Toji stare into each others eyes. “M-me too!” You whimper, nodding your head at him. You lips messily interlock, tongue gliding against one another, swallowing each others moans.

“Let’s show him what he’s missing, baby.” He smirks, reaching for your phone on the couch. His thrusts come to a stop, clicking on your now ex boyfriend’s contact and opening the camera to record a video. “Go nice and slow for me,” he says huskily.

Slowly, you move your hips up and down his thick shaft, whimpering when you feel him throb against your walls. Toji angles the camera up, a devious look in his eye. He moves it back down when you start to move faster, you sloppy pussy squelching when you slam your hips down on his. Toji slaps your ass a few times before grabbing it, guiding your hips to go slower once again. “That’s it, doll. Good fucking girl,” he lowly chuckles in your ear. Toji ends the video, sending it and tossing the phone to the side.

“I can’t believe we actually did that,” you giggle, biting down on your lip. Not even one minute passed before your phone began ringing, vibrating on the couch but you were too busy getting your brains fucked out to even notice. “Ah, you’re so deep,” you mewl, the curve of his dick making your back arch.

“Better get used to it cause we won’t be stopping anytime soon.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, sloppily thrusting into your poor pussy. “You’re my girl now.” He’s slamming your hips back down on his cock, fucking you deeply, making sure every inch of him is coated in your juices. He quickly pulls out, jerking his cock before thick globs of cum coat your skin before he’s inserting himself back inside your dripping entrance. Neither of you noticing the five missed calls and fifteen unread texts from your ex.

ᯓ★ GOJO

As soon as you called Gojo crying, he basically teleported to your house. When he learned that your boyfriend had cheated on you and you kicked him out, he was the least bit shocked. For the past month you’ve told Gojo that your boyfriend has been acting off, and finally the truth came to light.

“I’m so sorry,” he frowned, rubbing the top of your head as you cried into his chest. It hurt Gojo to see you like this, constantly seeing you get hurt by these shitty guys who didn’t know any better. He had a massive crush on for the longest time and he’s always been afraid to say anything. He’d treat you better, treat you the way you’ve always deserved.

“I just don’t it, Toru! Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” You frowned.

“No, no! It’s not you all! You’re absolutely perfect. He’s a fucking asshole for not seeing that sooner. You’re kind, funny, smart, and beautiful. You’re everyone’s dream girl, y/n.” It may have sounded like he was only trying to be nice, but in reality he was speaking from his heart.

“Awe, Toru, thank you,” you giggled through your tears. Gojo looked at you few seconds, the most sincere expression written on his face.

So how, in only a few minutes, did he make you go from giggling to moaning like bitch in heat?

“Feel better, princess?” He mumbles against your cunt, sucking on your swollen and sensitive clit. “Please tell me you feel better,” he whines.

“Toru—mmph! What’s—ah! Oh my god!” He slides his long, slender fingers into your sopping hole, pumping them in and out, curling them up slightly. Your jaw falls slack at the way his tongue expertly explores your folds, licking up every last drop of your essence. Your hand clings to his fluffy white hair, his hands pushing your legs open each time they threat to close around his head.

“Taste so good, princess. Just like I imagined—mmm,” he moans at your delectable taste, ignoring the way your squirming in his hold and clenching around his fingers as your second orgasm approaches. His captivating eyes flutter open to look at you, watching the way you lose yourself on his tongue. He could tell your boyfriend—ex boyfriend has never pleasured you like this before, let alone made you cum.

“Fuck!” You gasp. “Feels so good—hah, shit! Toruuu!” You cry out, legs quivering when the tip of his tongue runs back and forth over your clit.

“Promise me something, yeah?” He moves his fingers in and out of your sloppy hole slowly, bringing you right on the edge. “Be mine? I’ll treat you so good, princess. Been wanting to for the longest time, god, you’re so fucking perfect. Please?” He presses soft kisses to your thighs that make your breath hitch.

“You’re confessing now?!” You chuckle, trying to catch your breath.

Gojo smiles up at you. “Is that a yes?” He quirks a brow. He presses the pads of his fingers against your g-spot massaging slowly.

“Ah,” you bite down on your lip, “you’re no fair!” You run your fingers through his hair. “It’s a yessssuhh.” You’re barely able to get the word out before he dips his head between your legs again, his wet tongue circling your clit. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m cumming again!” Your head is thrown back as your entire body shakes with pleasure.

“Thank you, princess,” Gojo murmurs.

ᯓ★ NANAMI

Nanami noticed you haven’t been yourself for the past couple of days and he didn’t dare to ask but he had a feeling it had something to do with that obnoxious and egotistical boyfriend of yours. It always had something to do with him no matter what. He didn’t think of it when you asked him if you can come over and watch a movie, but not even five minutes in the door you start explaining everything. You didn’t cry, just talked and talked about it, venting about the situation. He was glad to be an ear. He’ll always be here to help.

“I’m just so frustrated and I hate feeling this way!” You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe you need to deal with it in other ways rather than venting,” he suggested.

“Like what? Drinking my problems away? I’d rather not.” You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal.

What didn’t cross your mind was the fact your best friend was talking about having you bent over, fucking you into the mattress. “K-Ken! F-fuck!” Your eyes squeeze shut when he thrusts his hips harder, the tip of his swollen cock pressing into your sweet spot.

His thick fingers squeeze into your plush skin, pulling you back onto his cock. He leans over next to your ear, breath fanning against your skin sweaty skin. “He doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. Not like I do.” He peppers kisses down your back, a contrast of you screaming his name.

Your walls squeeze around him at his words, your pussy somehow growing wetter than it already was, creating a sloppy and sticky mess where you two met. Your hands grasped the sheets below. “Yes, Ken, handle me, show me you can handle me!” You grit your teeth, looking back at him.

A feral growl escapes his throat, blonde hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. He reaches a hand down, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushes your head into the mattress, the sound of skin to skin slapping against each other growing constant as he fucks your hard and deep with such a grueling pace. “I can handle you, sweetheart,” he chuckles deeply. “Better than your boyfriend.” He licks his lips.

“Mmm—ah, yes!” You laugh with a smile. “Ex.” You’re quick to correct.

“Who gives a fuck what he is—hah, shit, sweetheart, gripping me so damn tight.” He’s so focused on the way your ass ripples against his hips, addicted to how warm and wet your cunt is. It was hypnotizing. Your jaw hung open, eyes rolled back, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth and onto the bed below you. Each rut of his hips had you going stupid, barely able to think.

Successfully, you can say that his method of dealing with your problems has worked better than you could’ve imagined. “Feel so good inside me! Don’t stop!” You cry out, voice wavering. The stretch of his cock against your gummy walls had you craving more. So much more to the point you wanted to feel all of him. “Cum in me.” You’re bitting down your lip so hard you’re afraid you’ll draw blood.

Those three words have Nanami’s eyes wide in excitement. His body runs hot, your words making the blood rush straight to his pulsating cock. “D-don’t say stuff—mmph—like that,” he grunts.

“I thought you could handle me?” You’re smirking, playing with fire. His rough hands grip onto your hips harder, hard enough to leave bruises. Each thrust of his ragged hips shoots bolts of pleasure through your core.

His brows furrow in concentration, grunts and growls mixing in with your moans as his abs tense up, body jolting forward as his sloppily thrusts into your greedy hole. “I can handle you better than anyone else and you know it!” His hand swats your ass, a loud smack cracking in the air. “Nngh, shit!” Before he knows it, his tip kisses your cervix, pulling you back on his cock as his hot cum paints your walls.

ᯓ★ GETO

When you told Geto about your boyfriend cheating on you, he knew you’d needed to be comforted despite what you said. So he planned a day just for you to do your favorite things in attempts to take your mind off of things, but he could see that you were still thinking about it deep down. The both of you sat in the car, watching over the city lights while music quietly played on the radio. The orange sunset casted a hue over the world, shining brightly.

“I’m sorry I just can’t get it out of my head.” You pout, fiddling with your fingers. “I appreciate you doing this, Suguru.”

“Of course, y/n. It’s the least I could do.” He gave a half smile, caressing your back.

“It just keeps replaying over and over in my head,” you shut your eyes, “I hate it. Nothing takes my mind off of it no matter what!” You ran your hand over your face, slouching in the passenger seat.

“Well, there’s something we haven’t tried yet.” Geto raised a brow, shrugging his shoulders.

“What?” You asked, confused.

Minutes later your knees are to your chest, the sheer force of his hips rocking your body into the seat of the car. Strands from his messy bun cling to his forehead, sweat dripping between the divots of his abs. His calloused hand presses down on your lower abdomen, the pad of his thumb reaching down to rub your neglected clit. “Sugu!” You cry out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

The car shakes with his feral and animalistic thrusts, the curve of his cock finding your sweet spot, knocking the breath out of you. You’re panting and gasping, clawing at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Come on, baby, you can do it.” His lips quirk up into a smirk, his hand reaching out, slipping his fingers into your mouth to suck on. “Let it all go for me.” He moves at a rapid pace, your eyes rolling back and your body going limp, hands falling to your sides.

He removes his fingers from your mouth, his hands gliding down to your throat, fingers ghosting over your skin before he carefully wraps his hand around it, gripping it firmly. “I’ll make you forget everything about him. You want that, don’t you? Fill that pretty little head of yours with nothing else but me.” His sultry words send shivers down your spine. A devilish chuckle escapes from him when he feels you flutter around his throbbing length. “Nnngh,” he plants a wet kiss on your jaw, “cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m cumming!” You scream, eyes widening at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “Yes, yes!” You squeal, legs shaking as he continues to rub your clit, dragging every last bit of your orgasm out of you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass at a rough pace, threatening to spill his seed inside of you. “Want to mark you, show that asshole who you’ve always belonged to!” Sinful eyes stare back at you.

Fat tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m yours! I’m y-yours! Ahh!” He puts more pressure on your clit, your body jolting, squirming beneath him.

“Hah, fuck, baby!” He moans, jaw falling open as he tosses his head back. He clenches his jaw, grunting as he keeps the same fervent tempo. He watches the way your filthy pussy clings to him so tightly, your juices forming a ring at the base of his cock, creating a sticky, slimy mess. His thrusts grow hasty, hungry for his orgasm, itching to see you coated in his cum.

He bullies his cock into your cunt, snarling and moaning at how rapidly his orgasm was nearing. He pulled out of you with a drawn out moan and instinctively your soft hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him until you felt warm cum drip onto your stomach.

[samantitaswrld]

deadpool!

….as your boyfriend.

description: deadpool as your boyfriend!

pairing: deadpool x you!

contains: 18+, mentions of sex!

|an: just saw deadpool & wolverine.. couldn’t help myself.

- awful with emotions but always finds a way to make up for things whether through humor or sex.

- speaking of humor you’re never not laughing with him, or bickering, or fucking

- you’re the only person he can actually feel vulnerable and comfortable with, he cherishes that and he loves you so much for that.

- you’re his person, he would genuinely kill for you if it meant he would lose someone so important in his life.

- if someone makes you sad, mad or uncomfortable ooo…not his babygirl.

- he usually doesn’t keep people or friends in his loop often, they could find him annoying or over the top but not you.

- you love absolutely everything about him, his outlandish humor, his extroverted personality, his big ol’ mouth. you think it’s so hot.

- so hot when he’s mean to you so hot when he’s soft with you

- you literally bicker like two teenage girls all the time and he always somehow clocks your tea it’s ridiculous but you also find it impressive that he always has something to say that you cannot come back from😭

- god you need to pray that no man ever even has the thought of coming on to you… he’ll experience some banter with your boyfriend before it’s lights out.

- not only are you his but he’s yours! he’s super loyal and if he can’t get someone to back off , you sure will!

- you’re always having fun with him date nights are some of the best times of your life, he always finds a way to entertain you no matter what you’re doing.

- always gotta hand somewhere, your ass, a singular cheek, a titty, somewhere. how could you expect him not to! you’re all his.

- you literally have him wrapped around your finger, he’d do absolutely anything for you.

- also always bullying you he is so straightforward😭

“hon that has got to be the ugliest shirt i’ve ever seen on you”

“wade-“

“i know you got better in that closet that i snoop through and try on all your clothes when you aren’t home now go!”

- he’s so tall so if you’re short oh wow…you’re never catching a break

“soooo how’s the weather down there.” wade said, placing his elbow on the crown of your head.

“prick…”

…

“yeah that’s enough of that dirty mouth!” your boyfriend had announced before bending down and wrapping an arm around your behind, throwing you over his shoulder and positioning his palm on your ass.

“god, wade put me down!” you’d laughed playfully hitting his back.

“don’t make me have to spank you!” he said, lighting pinching your ass.

- do not get an animal bc it will quickly become his center of attention and he will defend it over you.

“wade, we’re having my mom over please put it in the room”

“ugh…she’s so mean isn’t she sugar?” he’d said stroking your pet, followed by a “yes she is yes she is!” as the animal licked his face.

sigh.

- good lord we got a cuddle monster on our hands!

- absolutely adores any type of affection and practically begs you for it 24/7. he loves being little spoon specifically. also loves it when u scratch or message his back, bc that also gets him going..

- speaking of, you got this guy rock solid 24/7

“hungry for seconds?” he joked, hugging you from behind and pressing his hardened cock against your ass.

“we literally jus-“ you’d started just to be interrupted mid sentence.

“so! cmon baby throw a dog a bone.” he muttered, hand already gripping your inner thigh.

you’d sighed, god you can’t resist him.

- it doesn’t matter what you’re doing he finds anything you do hot i stg

- a M-U-N-C-H! for life, literally came in his pants from eating you out once! he loves making you feel good.

- a goofball during sex he cannot do shit seriously😭 he be talking you and your pussy thru it!

- again, if you’re petite god help you bc he is large.

- babe, you better match his freak because yall doing anything.

- trying a new thing every night multiple times bc that sex is never vanilla and that dick is never tired! at some point he’s just making positions up😭

[lovelivision]

FLIRTY SKIRTY ♡

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: ꒰𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞꒱ fushiguro toji/reader, geto suguru/reader, gojo satoru/reader, kamo choso/reader

𝐖𝐂: 5.8k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: wearing a skirt around your boyfriend? you better be ready for some delicious consequences!!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, swearing, dirty talk, (slight) overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, p in v sex, cunnilingus, creampie, f!reader, no use of y/n, the typical depravity to be expected of me atp <3

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 ★

Wearing a skirt around Toji is like his kryptonite, you know it, and he knows you know too because every time he’s even a tiny bit annoyed by something you’ve said or done, there you are, suddenly wearing your favourite little skirt. Prancing around the apartment and practically rubbing it in his face how good you look as the material flutters with your every step.

Toji sits on the couch as you move from room to room tidying up, his leg bouncing as he pretends to not notice you. The argument was stupid, and you weren’t even completely in the wrong but here you are trying to tempt him into forgiving you even though he would’ve been over it by dinner.

It’s not like you particularly need or want his forgiveness right now though, you just know that the sex you have while he’s annoyed and unbelievably turned on is always the best sex you have. So, yeah, you both would’ve been fine and over the disagreement in a few hours but why waste the opportunity to turn your boyfriend on when it’s right in front of you?

He doesn’t last long which is entirely predictable of him, his hands reaching for you as you pass by, resolve quickly snapping. A slight gasp slips past your lips as he tugs you into his lap, landing on him with a huff, thighs straddling his.

His lips press against your skin hurriedly, teeth nipping at your neck lightly, leaving behind small marks. Hands large on your hips, grabbing and pulling at your flesh, creeping under the skirt you’ve been flaunting yourself in.

“Toji, slow down,” you laugh breathlessly at his impatience.

He grumbles against you, “Your fault, wearing that stupid skirt–”

“–You like this skirt,” you half-heartedly pout back.

“Mhm, like you better out of it,” he snarks back.

You smile knowingly at him, “I think we both know that’s not true.”

His tongue clicks at you, not able to deny something you both know to be obviously true, “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Does that mean you’re not angry anymore?” You caress his face, thumb tracing his lower lip lightly.

“You do look damn good in this skirt, doll.” His hand creeps up your inner thigh, under aforementioned skirt, “And as a bonus,” his smile grows, “Ease of access.”

His thumb presses against your covered cunt, rubbing right on top of your clit, “You’re such a – mmph – tease, Toji.”

He feigns innocence, “Me? I think we both know it’s you who is the real tease.”

“Do we?” You question his logic.

“Yeah,” he’s pulling your panties to the side as he answers, fingers slipping through your wet slit, “We do.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, becoming wobbly, “Proving – hah – yourself wrong right now.”

“You talk too much, doll,” he prods at your entrance, slowly slipping a single digit inside, “I’d really rather hear you moan instead.”

Your head tilts towards him, biting into the material of his shirt as he begins fucking his finger into you, thumb circling your clit so perfectly you could swear you’re seeing stars. A drawn-out moan stutters from your chest, whined and pathetic for how little he’s done. His chuckle is self-satisfied, clearly already getting exactly what he wanted.

“That’s it, just what I wanted to hear.”

One of your own hands slips to the front of his trousers, cupping his very prominent erection, a gruff moan stifled from him at your touch. “Toji, please–”

“Oh? You want my cock, doll?” Tone smug but clearly slowly losing his fucking mind at how your hand squeezes him, thumb teasing the tip of his dick, “You know you gotta ask for it.”

“Please – hah –”

A second finger is added to his first, stretching you wider, scissoring his digits before slipping deep. Rubbing deliciously against your walls, crooking towards him, your slick dripping down his fingers towards his wrist.

He hums at you, gaze focused on how his hand has disappeared under your skirt, “Hmm? I didn’t quite catch that?”

“Please fuck me,” words panted, struggling to get out a full sentence with the way he crooks his fingers just right every time you open your mouth.

He slips his digits from you, keeping your panties tugged to the side, “Anything for you,” he coos sweetly.

Taking initiative, you pull him from his pants, his cock flushed a pretty pink, tip leaky. He shudders a breath at your grip on him, thumb swiping teasingly over where he’s most sensitive. Shuffling in closer, you hover over his dick, taking your time to torment him like he did you.

“Come on, doll, taking your sweet time,” he groans at you.

“Oh? You want my pussy?” You mimic his words from earlier, “You gotta ask for it.”

He chuckles humourlessly at you, baring his teeth for a moment before asking begrudgingly, “Give me your sweet little pussy, doll.” He tacks on for good measure, “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby,” you repeat his sentiments again, tone light and singsong.

He grins at you, tight lipped, “I really do prefer it when you’re moaning–”

Words getting cut off as you sink down on him, cunt greedily taking his cock, “I feel the – mmph – same,” you smile back, mouth dropping open at how his hips thrust upwards.

His head rolls onto the back of the couch, eyes glazed as he looks down at where his dick is stuffing you full. View blocked by the cute skirt you’re sporting, the fact you’re taking him so perfectly and nobody would be able to tell from a first glance making him stupid. Dick twitching inside you as he works himself up at the thought of fucking you in a room while everyone else was none the wiser.

Not missing his gaze, you reach for the hem of your skirt, lifting it up to show him how you’re sitting on his cock. Cunt full and fucked open by him, a guttural groan comes from his chest, like he’s been gut punched. The way you’ve lifted your skirt to show off for him driving him wild, he’s shooting up quickly, arms wrapping around you and pulling your body close to his.

“Fucking hell, doll, you really are gonna kill me,” he whispers in your ear, breath hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Toji– ah!–”

Words cut off by how he starts fucking up into you relentlessly, lewd squelching noises of him ruining you filling the room. Pussy obscenely wet and taking him so well, your hips meeting his thrusts eagerly. His arms wrapped around you firmly, his hold on you being leveraged to use you to fuck himself. He’s taking control of your pace, making you keep up with him.

He’s in complete control, hips wild as he bucks up into you while also pulling you down into him. Your head tucks into him, fingers pulling at the material of his shirt. Gasps and moans pouring from you freely at how he hammers into you over and over. You’re not even sure you’re thinking let alone speaking, anything you might be saying completely unintelligible.

“Can’t even stay mad at you – hnn – not in this – hah – fffucking skirt,” his hands move to your ass, grabbing at your flesh, pulling you open as he keeps insistently fucking into your tight pussy.

His groans reverberate through his chest, you can feel it with how you’re pressed up to him, every sound he makes pricks at your skin. Turned on beyond belief as you let yourself get fucked blissfully, eyes rolling as you drool onto his stupidly tight t-shirt.

Getting exactly what you wanted from him, his unrestrained pace and desperate thrusts just what you needed. Cunt pulsing around him obscenely as your orgasm gets closer and closer, tasting it on the tip of your tongue.

“So close aren’t you?” he sounds completely fucked out, words almost slurring with how good it all feels, “Need it, doll – hah – wanna feel the way you fucking squeeze – mmph – me as you coat my dick.”

“Toji, feels so– oh! Feels so fucking good,” you cry out at him, eyes beginning to water.

He bites out at you, “I know it does– fuck– I know it does.”

“I– I’m gonna–”

He smiles bright against your skin, “That’s fucking it, let go for me.”

Your body nearly locks up at the force of which your orgasm washes over you, whines leaving you pitifully as your pussy spasms around him, tight as you cum all over his cock. Toji moans at how you grip him, his face turning to the side, teeth latching into the skin of your shoulder. Biting down and leaving behind a mark, his moans stifled into your skin. His own orgasm wracking over him, triggered by yours.

He's cumming so deep inside you, dick twitching as he lets himself fill you with his seed. Hips not stopping as he keeps fucking up into you, his cum leaking from you and down into his lap. Forcing the two of you into overstimulation but not stopping, not until you’re whimpering at him.

“Toji– too much,” you pant against his chest.

He pulls you back so he can look you in the eye, you can see when he notices how wrecked you are by the way his gaze lights up, proud of himself. Your cheeks tear stained and drool caught on the corner of your lip.

His hand is reaching up, thumb rubbing at the spit in the corner of your mouth, “You look really pretty right now, all fucked full, dumb look on your face while in that fucking skirt.”

You smile stupidly at him, “So you’re not angry anymore?”

“Be careful, doll, if this is how you apologise I might start pointless arguments with you more often.” He’s grinning at you like an idiot, like he might actually start a fight just to see you in this skirt again.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ★

The feeling of eyes on you has been prevalent all day, specifically, Geto’s eyes have been on you all day. Not able to make nearly any move without the feeling of him tracking you closely, you don’t even know what’s wrong with him or what you did. The only thing you do know is that your boyfriend has been watching you very intently today.

As you fold your laundry you can feel him following your movements, he’s watching you from the bed, observing how you carefully fold and put away your clothes. Normally it wouldn’t bother you but you’re beginning to feel a little unsettled by all his quiet staring.

Without sparing a glance, you continue what you’re doing, “Are you feeling okay today?”

“Hmm?” he hums at you distractedly before registering what you’ve said, “Yeah I’m fine, why?”

“You’ve been staring at me all day,” your brow raises at him.

He throws back at you, “I can’t gaze at my girlfriend?”

“Not when you’re starting to freak her out… no.”

You don’t notice him getting off the bed, his movements quiet, only realising when he’s suddenly behind you and his hands are dragging over your body. Groping you over your clothes, his lips leaving soft kisses against your neck.

Bending your head down, you give him more access, “Ahhh, I see what’s happened now.”

“And what’s that?” He sounds amused.

Spinning in his grip, you loop your arms around his neck, “You’re looking to get some, huh?”

Geto laughs at your words, a pretty sound that makes your heart flutter.

“Am I wrong?” You pout back at him.

“Nope, dead on.” He kisses your lips softly before picking you up and carrying you over to your bed.

You can’t help the giggles that slip as he carries you over to and drops you on top of your mattress, bouncing slightly with the force used. He’s undressing in front of you, and you follow his lead, pulling off your shirt before reaching for your skirt. Not getting far though because his hands are reaching out and stopping you.

“Keep the skirt on, pretty.”

His request flusters you but you nod at him, keeping it on like he asked. Your panties on the other hand are being tugged off by him in one swift motion. He’s moving so quickly, clearly impatient as he manoeuvrers you into the position he wants.

“Hands and knees, baby– tha’s it,” He’s quiet after that, apparently admiring the view.

“Sugu, what are you– ah!”

Just as you started asking him what he was doing, his fingers slip through your folds, spreading your slick all over your cunt. His fingers lingering at your slit, enjoying the way your knees buckle before pushing into your entrance. It’s hard to keep your noises contained, your arms struggling to keep yourself up at how he stuffs you with them.

Not lingering long before he’s pulling his digits from you, using your wetness to coat his cock. Soft wet clicking sounds coming from behind you at how he leisurely strokes himself.

“You’re so fucking wet already,” he notes crudely, a sick kind of joy in his tone, almost like he means it as a compliment.

You can’t even tell him to stop being a tease because he’s swiping his dick through your folds, probing at your hole, gliding to your clit and back again. Repeating his motions, only so he can make you twitch and have your breath catching in your throat. The small whimpers you let out his favourite song.

“You’re being – mmph – cruel,” Your voice is pathetic, and you can’t help it, he got you all worked up only to be mean.

He slaps his dick against your pussy a few times, “I’m sorry, baby, you want me to fuck you now?”

Such a condescending tone, if you weren’t already on all fours and needy you’d tell him to shove it, “Please.”

“Not very convincing…”

“Sugu–” you stop short, whine bubbling in your throat, “Please~”

“So cooperative,” he coos at you.

At your pitiful plead, he pushes into your tight cunt, stretching you open on his cock. You jolt forward at it, arms barely holding up, the stretch tingling up your spine. Moans tumble from your lips as he rocks into you, his dick sitting heavy inside you.

Geto’s cock jerks inside you, his head dizzy at how you feel wrapped around him. Pussy so snug it’s making his teeth clench, your skirt bunches around your waist. The sight of his dick shoved inside your hole while you’re wearing it making his heart pound, barely able to focus with the thumping in his ears.

He’s so still and it’s driving you wild, your walls pulsing around him, your hips wiggling back to hopefully get his attention. It works, he’s pulling back oh so slowly, letting you savour the hot drag of his cock as it leaves your needy cunt. Not so gentle on the way back in, hips thrusting forward harshly, the air knocking out of you as your arms finally give in.

Back arched meanly, your hands gripping the sheets. The new angle has your breathing speed up, suddenly so much needier. You spread your legs further apart and push back, your pussy desperate for more.

He laughs breathlessly at the sight, a single hand pressing into the arch in your back, “Someone’s – hah – eager.”

You grind back into him, “N–need it– hnn– Sugu!”

A shudder runs down his spine at the want in your tone, not expecting you to be so needy. Feeling benevolent and just as desperate as you, he starts a harsh pace. His cock drilling into your gushing hole, the sloppy sounds of him fucking into you the only thing heard aside from your shared moans.

You keep trying to fuck back onto him, his hand holding down harder as he hisses through his teeth, “J–just fuckin take what I give, greedy little thing.”

He’s pinned you so you can’t wiggle back onto him even if you want to, his pace feeling so much more brutal when you’re forced to just take it. Eyes rolling with how he manages to hit every spot inside you perfectly, fat cock reaching the right spots without even having to try. Drooling onto the bed sheets with the pleasure running down your spine.

Geto can’t take his eyes off how your ass jiggles every time he stuffs himself back into your pretty pussy, hypnotised by how your cunt bludges while taking him. Dick so unbelievably hard as your skirt ruffles around your waist, moving with each thrust back inside your tight heat.

You can’t think properly, brain too foggy to even verbalise your oncoming orgasm. Not that he needed a warning, fully aware of how close you are by how you shake and your walls grip him impossibly tight. His fingers reach around to thrum at your clit, making you finish suddenly. Somehow your back arching even deeper, your whines pitchy as you cry into the sheets.

The feel of your cunt convulsing around him triggering his own end, pulling out and stroking himself. Just so he can cum all over your ass and skirt, the material no doubt ruined by the sheer amount he’s managed to cum all over it. Twisted pleasure filling him at having coated that pretty little skirt in his cum, proof of how diabolically he fucked you in it.

Knees giving out, you flop onto the bed, head spinning in your come down. Everything feels fuzzy, a lovely kind of fuzzy. “You’re putting away the rest of the laundry for ruining my skirt.”

Geto leans down, front to your back, pressing kisses to your shoulders, “Worth it.”

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 ★

Today had been a nice day out with Gojo, visiting your favourite café and going shopping afterwards. The weather was perfect, and you’d found some really cute goodies while out. The only thing of special note aside from Gojo’s insistent compliments on how good you looked was his otherwise uncharacteristic quiet.

Normally so ready to tease and talk about absolutely nothing replaced with a quiet and soft blush. Daydreaming while you ate, off in the clouds as you walked ahead of him on the streets, he seemed to be overall a little spacey today. It’s endearing albeit concerning, something clearly taking up all his thoughts.

Even in the elevator up to his apartment floor he’s not quite all there, though a little more fidgety, something you read as being keen to get home. You feel a little guilty for having such a nice time if he’s been waiting to get home the whole day, a fact that’s almost cemented when at the door he sighs frustratedly as he struggles to find the right key.

Cautiously, you take them from him and easily navigate to the right key, unlocking and opening the door. The apartment warm and empty as you step through the threshold. Once you’re through the door, Gojo is hastily shucking off his shoes and dropping all your bags. Impatiently waiting for you to take off your shoes.

As soon as they’re off and you’re bending back up straight, he’s on you. Lips hot against your skin, messy in how he kisses your mouth. Tongue so quick to push in and brush up against yours, suddenly so dizzy at the speed of which he’s moved. Your hands brace on his broad shoulders, shocked by his need, taking you off guard completely.

Pulling back, he speaks between kisses on your neck, “You looked so fucking pretty today, so pretty, beautiful!”

“W–what’s gotten into you?”

“You.” He huffs against you, “You got into me.” His hand trails up your leg and under your skirt, “You and this damn skirt.”

He’s so flustered, a pretty shade of pink dancing along his cheeks, hungry look in his gaze. Suddenly all his daydreaming and lingering behind makes a whole lot more sense. He walks you backwards until you hit the wall, resting against it. Hand dancing along the waistband of your panties under your skirt.

“Gojo–”

“–So mean…” he pouts.

“Satoru…” A force of habit to use his last name, still not quite used to the switch, “…Did you at least have a nice time out?” Still feeling a little worried he didn’t.

“I had a fantastic time,” he smiles, “Loved thinking about fucking you in this skirt the whole day…” His fingers slip into your panties, “…And now I’m going to have a fantastic time making that reality.”

Quick to circle around your clit maddeningly, your head knocking back against the wall with the stimulation. Soft and pleased hum coming from him at your reaction, always so happy at how sensitive you are, it makes it easier for him to drive you insane.

“You are so cute,” he compliments again, “Are you gonna let me fuck you here in the entry way?”

As much as you try for them not to, your words still come out a little wobbly, “I– hnn– whatever y–you want~”

“So good to me,” he sounds proud, of you or himself you can’t tell.

He rewards you by dipping his fingers down to your hole, almost pushing inside. You wiggle your hips down into his hand, desperate to be filled, his teasing beginning to be too much. All worked up and ready to be fucked but he has different plans.

“Want you to cum first,” he tuts, “Want it extra messy when I fuck you.”

After this long, you’d think he wouldn’t fluster you so much, but his words have you bristling, face burning at his comment. His fingers draw back to your clit and repeat his earlier motions, though he gives you more pressure this time, building you up so carefully, as if  brick by brick.

Your legs shake under you, starting to struggle to hold yourself firmly with how good it feels. So quick to get you close, it’s almost embarrassing how easy it is for him to make you cum. Chest stuttering as you struggle to draw in a steady breath, soft moans interrupting the motion.

“G– Satoru, I’m so close,” Your lower lip shakes with your words.

His eyes glint, excitement in his expression, “Good. Cum.”

Your insides pull tight, stomach doing flips as he insistently rubs over your clit, not changing a single thing about how he’s touching you. Head lolling on your shoulders as your fingers dig into his shoulders, legs shaking so much more as you struggle to keep hold of him. Mostly being supported now by his free hand on your hip. Orgasm washing over you, eyes unseeing for a moment as your hearing goes dull.

Cunt contracting around nothing, pitiful whines falling from you at the disappointment, always feeling so much better to cum around him. He doesn’t grace you with much of a come down, ripping your panties off before tugging down his pants just enough to pull his cock out of them. He’s so hurried, you’re surprised he was so patient when he’d been daydreaming about fucking you the whole day. Your skirt is bunched around your waist as he lifts you up, guiding you to lock your legs behind him.

He sounds so ruined already, “I don’t think I can be patient, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

One of your hands leaves his shoulder and slips into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, “Tha’s okay.”

“I’m in love with you,” he moans, his tip dragging through your folds.

Your cum leaving you so slick, dripping down your thighs and onto his dick as he runs it between your pussy lips. He doesn’t think he can physically handle anymore teasing, choosing instead to angle himself at your entrance. Giving you one final glance to make sure you’re okay before stretching you open, his cock splitting you damn near in half as he spears you with it.

Gojo almost folds into you at the initial feel of your snug cunt sucking him in, guttural groan leaving him. He’s trying so hard to go slow, to not give you too much at once but it’s really hard when you have such a greedy pussy. His dick twitches pathetically inside you, so sensitive from how hard and desperate he’s been.

With borderline hearts in his eyes, he huffs, “Think I– fuck– I’m in love with your cunt, sweetie.”

You bite your lip as you lock down, watching the way he’s sliding into you, pussy budging around his big cock.

“I– hah– love you, too, ‘Toru.” It’s meant to be facetious, but it loses it’s meaning when you’re moaning so pitifully for him.

The nickname you use has him stuffing you to the brim all at once, his dick sitting deep inside you. He almost purrs with how snugly you squeeze him, all wet and tight and so so perfect. If he had even a little bit less self-control he’d have cum in you just from being balls deep. Feeling so sensitive to every reaction he pulls from you, abs pulling at how you flutter around him, the cause of it being you looking down at how deep he’s in you.

Just to tease you, he pulls out so slowly, both of you watching how shiny his cock is. Coated in your previous orgasm, he shudders at it, jerking as he pulls out.

“Now the fun part,” he winks at you before shoving himself back in quickly, the force of it nearly knocking the breath from you.

Grateful for his hands on your thighs because you don’t have faith in your ability to cling to him. His pace is relentless, desperation that reflects his patient waiting for this moment. Fucking you so perfectly, to the point you can’t speak. Only thing leaving you are moans and his name, all slurred and barely comprehensible.

It’s obscenely messy how he fucks into you, your thighs wet, his dick slick, exactly how he wanted it. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your sweet little pussy making his brain buzz, high coming on so quick that he can’t help but feel a little disappointed, wanting to stuff you full forever. Not ready to part from you.

His thumb reaches for your sensitive clit, your body flinching at it, too much too soon but he needs you to cum again, he needs to feel it around him this time. Easily pulling a second orgasm from you like this, your whole body trembling in his arms, eyes rolling as you coat his dick with your cum.

Big dopey smile on his face as you finish around him, continuing to play with your clit just to watch you jolt in his hold, finding it adorable. Eventually pulling back when you pout at him, all dazed and bordering on overstimulation.

“Sorry, sweetie,” his head falls back for a moment, almost whining, “Y–you just look so– hah– fuck– cute shaking while I fuck you.”

“Cum please,” you murmur, voice weak, “’Toru, I wan’ it.”

“Ohh you’ll get it– hnn–” His voice cutting off with his orgasm.

Stuffing himself inside you, hot and deep as he pumps you full of his cum, hips grinding into yours to ride out his pleasure. Cumming so much that he’s leaking from your hole, down his cock and onto his pants and then the floor. He’s made a proper mess, just like he wanted.

Fucked out, he grins at you, “Round two in the bedroom?”

He’s insatiable…

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 ★

Cooking with Choso is a pleasant evening activity, prepping dinner together as you chat about your days. Something you’re happily doing, recounting your activities today and paying no mind to your boyfriends distracted chopping. Not noticing how he’s checking you out in your new skirt, one you hadn’t yet worn around him, he knows because if you had he’d have gone fucking wild ages ago.

“New skirt?” He cuts you off.

“Hmm?” You’re confused for a moment, “Oh, yeah, I got it the other day. Do you like it?” You step away from the bench and spin for him, showing it off.

A light blush dusts his cheeks at how you show it off for him, “Yeah… you look really pretty.”

It’s your turn to feel flustered at his compliment, going back to what you were doing before you spun for him.

A little after you’ve prepped everything, he’s hanging off you, leaving kisses to your neck. His breath against your skin sending a shudder down your spine. Turning to face him, you indulge in making out with him, his tongue licking into your mouth, humming as he does. His hands wander slightly, growing provocative in how he’s touching you. Small moan pulling from you at how he’s groping at you, at how insistently he’s kissing you.

Suddenly he’s dropping to his knees, his eyes glassy as he begs, “Lemme put my mouth on you, please.” Hands already pushing your skirt up, face pressing between your legs.

“I– okay, Cho, take what you need,” You offer in a comforting voice, not expecting his need.

Nose to your panties, he inhales your scent, purring with it. Pleased with how wet for him you already are, pressing his tongue to your cunt through your panties. The material soaking with his saliva and moulding to your pussy lips, his tongue beginning to lick at you. Spreading your folds with it, your pleasure muted as he lightly licks over your clit.

The dull pleasure making you feel insane, wanting so badly for him to remove your underwear, wanting his hot tongue against your sensitive skin. Something he seems unwilling to give you yet, you’re not sure if he’s teasing himself or you more by doing this. Your hands brace against the bench top behind you, needing stability, already knowing he’s going to have you a mess in a few moments.

Your panties are coated, wet and sticking to your cunt with his drool and your slick. Face hot as you watch him suck at the material of them, his eyes already so dazed and unfocused, drunk on your pussy and he’s not even had the chance to put his mouth directly on it. When you put this skirt on today you had no idea you would be torturing your poor boyfriend with it, never having seen him this depraved and horny.

Dark spot seeping into his pants where his tip rests, so turned on he’s leaking into them, precum coating his clothes in a desperate display. Heart leaping in your chest at the realisation that you’ve done this to him.

“So beautiful, always so beautiful, so cute in your skirt…” His praises are murmured and slurred as he continues to lap at your cunt through your panties.

“Cho~” you whine at him, “Please take them off.”

He barely even pulls his mouth from you, just enough to rip the soaked article from your person before his tongue is lapping at your slit directly. Loud and obscene whine leaving him, pitchy moan leaving you too. The feeling of having his tongue on your skin dizzying after he’d played with you for so long. Almost intense how he eats at you, legs trembling as your arms fight to keep you up.

Soft growls tumble from his lips as he continuously laps at your sloppy cunt, shoving his face deeper between your legs, tongue pushing into your hole. Stretching around the muscle, walls fluttering snugly around him, his head buzzing with the feeling. His nose knocking into your clit as he vigorously makes out with your pussy.

Not able to help himself, he rubs over his pants, hand giving him minimal relief. Watching him rut into his hand as he drinks down your slick has a feral need clawing at your insides, wanting so badly to sit on him.

“I– I wanna ride– ohh fuck!–”

He shakes his head no at you, not willing to part from you yet, the action making you cry out. Tummy flipping at the pleasure he just gave you from it, fingers gripping the counter so hard it almost hurts. What does you in though, is Choso pulling his dick from his pants, needing the relief of being released from its confines.

Tip so pink and weeping precum, so hard it looks painful. You could help if he’d let you but with how one hand has you pinned to the counter and how his mouth is happily slurping you down you don’t think he’s going to stop now. His free hand grabs his cock, it twitches pitifully, so worked up. He barely focuses on stroking himself, mostly squeezing to offer some kind of pleasure.

The whole thing is overwhelming, your orgasm rocking through you suddenly and unexpectedly. You nearly fold with it, fighting to keep yourself upright. Mind so hazy as you cum into his mouth, vaguely registering his whimpers as he revels in your orgasm coating his tongue. He continues to lick you into overstimulation, body jerking as he doesn’t stop. Not stopping until your hand tugs at his hair and pulls him away.

He’s such a mess, lips and chin covered in your cum and slick, his eyes beyond pussy drunk. His dick absurdly hard and leaking obscenely. Getting to your knees you push him back onto the floor and straddle his lap, hovering right over his dick. Taking a few breaths before lowering yourself to sink down on him. His hands grip at your hips, almost shaking with his need.

The stretch is a lot, his cock fucking you open lewdly, if you weren’t one orgasm deep and so unbelievably turned on you doubt you’d be able to pull this off. When you take him to the hilt, Choso makes a sound like he’s been gut punched, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“So perfect, feel so perfect, taste so perfect…” again mumbling nonsensical praise to you, his words blending together at the feel of your snug cunt so hot around him.

You return his praise, knowing he wants to hear it, “Did s–so good– hah–, Cho, m– make me feel so good.”

He asks, “Yeah?”

You nod back at him, “Yeah.”

After a moment of adjusting to him, you begin bouncing on his dick. Ending each bounce with a grind into his pelvis, the movements have butterflies in your tummy, the stimulation against your clit making your head ring. Below you, Choso looks drunk, eyes lost as he gazes at you, to your cunt swallowing down his whole cock and back to you, not quite able to make up his mind on what he wants to watch most.

When your pace starts faltering, he’s gripping you tight and planting his feet on the ground. His harsh and fast thrusts up into you have you falling forward into him, taking the proximity as chance to kiss him deeply. Your tongue in his mouth licking up against his, swallowing down his moans and whines. One particularly harsh thrust has you parting from him with a shocked moan, instead tucking your head into his shoulder to whine and drool onto him. Brain going stupid as he fucks you so well.

Again, you’re cumming so suddenly, three perfect thrusts and his tip hitting so deep inside you and you’re finishing on him. Cunt convulsing around him as you coat his dick this time, the squelching sound of him fucking you through it almost embarrassing. He’s cumming at the same time as you, seed spilled deep inside you only to be pulled out with how furiously he fucks you both through it.

A mix of your shared mess coating the other, the display depraved and lewd and no doubt a bitch to clean up but so worth it for how fucking good you feel right now. Spine tingling and head fuzzy as you press soft kisses into his neck. His breathing heavy from under you, matching your own. His hands move from your hips to your back, running up and down in a comforting manner.

“So…” You begin, “I’m gonna make a note to wear this skirt more often.”

He smiles but his dick jumps inside you, “Please.”

𝐀/𝐍: i hope you guys enjoyyyeddd !! have beautiful days/nights <33

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[slttygeto]

SO, YOU GOT A BOYFRIEND? | GETO S.

synopsis: when watching a certain scary movie gives your husband, suguru, the perfect idea on how to ruin you.

c.w: p0rn with plot, fem!reader, reader is referred to as “good girl” “pretty girl”, mask kink (hehe<3), slight fear play, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, suguru talks you through it, praise kink, strength kink if you squint, im obsessed with suguru's arms, clit smack, multiple orgasms.

word count: 2,1k

note: i am BRICKED after writing this. happy halloween hehe.

ghostface suguru! ( @aurelianamu )

In a dimly lit room, at around 10PM—it was a bit cold outside, the perfect weather to snuggle up and watch some movies. Romance movies? No, you did that last week. Action movie? Eh, you were not in the mood for that—oh, Scream. Your thumb presses on the movie before you put the remote control down and walk towards the kitchen to grab some snacks.

“Sugu, I picked a movie!” you announce as you make your way out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and two drinks. Your husband marches down the stairs in a lazy manner, his long strands messily sticking out of his ponytail that he has to stop and tie it up again. He sees what movie you picked and he stands behind you on the couch.

“Scream?” he questions, hands resting on your shoulders.

“First movie, pretty iconic.”

“I don’t think it’s that scary though,” he doesn’t really say that he would rather watch something else, simply joins you on the couch and pulls you towards him with the bowl of popcorn resting on your lap.

The movie is indeed not that scary, you kept quoting some of the lines here and there, which earned you a chuckle from Suguru every time.

“No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface I wanna be in the sequel,” you say in the same voice and attitude and your husband runs a hand through your hair.

“I think you’d easily outsmart him,” your husband is very supportive of you, but instead of making fun of his statement, your heart thrums in your chest when you picture Suguru in the ghostface mask.

“Really?” you look up at him through your eyelashes but Suguru is staring ahead and doesn’t notice the eyes you’re giving him.

“Yeah, they’re all pretty stupid—minus Sidney, I mean the fact that—“ your husband goes on a three minute ramble about the plot, how he appreciates the intelligence of the main character all while saying that the choice of the ghostface killers was nice. Unbeknownst to him, you were thinking of something else. Something far dirtier than intended.

“Baby,” you cut him off from his ramble and he hums in response.

“You’d be pretty hot as ghostface.” Suguru looks down on you when you say that and raises both eyebrows knowingly.

“Are you insinuating something?” To which you shrug your shoulders before staring back at the big screen in your living room, playing innocent.

“Just saying.”

You weren’t just saying, you knew exactly what you were doing. The next day, you’re sat on your bed folding laundry while watching the newest episode to your favorite podcast. You liked keeping your brain stimulated, and it distracted you from the fact that your husband was always gone for long hours during the day. But when you hear the keys rustling and the front door opening, you raise an eyebrow but don’t question it. Today’s mission must’ve been quick, you think to yourself.

“Welcome home!” you call out from your bedroom but don’t bother to get up, you knew he would come to your bedroom immediately so you keep your eyes on your computer and go back to folding the laundry.

A couple of minutes pass and Suguru doesn’t walk inside the bedroom, so you start getting a little suspicious and decide to go check on him.

“Sugu?” you walk out of the bedroom and notice how the lights downstairs are turned off. You remember leaving them on for him, so he must’ve turned them off on his way upstairs—but where was he?

“Baby, are you in the shower?” the lights in the bathroom were on but the door was closed. Suguru never walked to the bathroom first without greeting you—unless something was wrong. You put your hand on the door handle, but before you could twist the knob, a warm and rough hand covers your mouth and your blood runs cold when you’re being pulled into a different room.

You don’t have time to scream or panic, because when you’re being pinned to the wall by a rather familiar set of hands, your eyes almost bulge out of your skull when you notice the ghostface mask. You’re breathing heavily, cheeks flushed but there’s no sign of panic because you know who this is—the dragon tattoo peeking out of his shirt and the wedding band on his ring finger are enough evidence.

“Do you like scary movies?” Suguru’s voice sounds silky smooth, but the flirting connotation to it has your heart leaping out of your chest.

“Sugu—“

“Wrong,” he pins both hands above your head and his body is so close to yours that you feel the heat radiating off of it. “Let’s try again, I know my girl is smart.”

Your breath is caught in your throat, but you play along and nod sheepishly.

“Do you like scary movies?”

“Mhm,”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He traces a finger over your cheek, and the arousal slowly starts pooling between your legs.

“Hm, I don’t know,” you reply in a similar flirtatious tone, nervousness long gone. The realization that you didn’t have to explicitly tell your husband about the ghostface mask and him buying it for your pleasure made all of this very thrilling.

“You have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”

“Hm, Halloween,” you stick to the same script of the movie, you buck your hips towards him but he pushes a knee between your legs and pins you again to the wall. “Y’know, the one with the guy with the white mask that walks around and stalks baby sitters?”

“Yeah,” Suguru breathes out and takes in how gorgeous you look like this—how he should’ve thought of doing this a long time ago. Your eyes were blown out with lust, chest heaving in excitement all while allowing him to play with you like this. He could feel his pants tighten and his cock was slowly getting hard from knowing exactly what was coming.

“What’s yours?” you bring him out of his thoughts and although you can’t see his face, you know that he was giving you that signature charming smile that always won over your heart.

“Guess.” He purrs out and you subconsciously start grinding against his knee before giving him a reply.

“Nightmare on Elm Street,”

“Wrong,” Suguru goes off script and your lips part for a moment. You’re about to complain, tell him that this wasn’t in the movie—he lets go of your wrists and throws you over his shoulder, delivering a harsh smack to your ass, his rough hand kneads the skin as he makes his way towards your bedroom.

“Better luck next time,” he throws you on the bed and you let out a gasp when your back hits the mattress. You try to sit up, but your husband grabs your ankles and pulls you down towards the end of the bed. “Now let’s see just how fucking filthy you are,”

He parts your legs with his big hands covering the plush skin of your thighs, and you whine out when he removes your shorts to reveal your panties that had an obvious wet patch on them.

“Fuuuck,” he breathes out and lifts up the mask enough for his mouth and nose to be visible. He presses his nose against your panties and takes a whiff of your arousal, the sight is obscene and your face turns red at how pussy drunk he sounds. “Fuck, fuck—should’ve done this sooner baby, you smell so fucking good,” he gives your pussy a kiss through the fabric of your panties before his fingers remove them so messily that you let out a startled noise.

Suguru dives in between your legs and the wet sounds are dirty and make you feel even more turned on. His tongue laps at your clit, fingers pulling the hood back before spitting on it and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he sucks. Two of his thick fingers prod at your entrance, gathering some of the slick that’s pooled there before pushing a single finger inside.

“Thaaaat’s it, good girl,” he breathes out against your clit before giving it a kiss as he pushes the second finger inside. “Yeah, this pussy loves being stuffed by me—fuck, you’re so wet for me. All because of this mask baby girl?” his tone is playful but you’re far too gone to complain and just mindlessly nod.

“So drunk off of me and I haven’t even given you my cock,” he pumps his fingers in and out of you all while curling them to find that one spot inside you. He licks, sucks and spits on your clit with so much passion and when he finds that one spot, you let him know pretty quickly.

“Oh!” you gasp and your thighs shake. “S-Suguru, oh fuck--!” his wrist is burning as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, and the veins in his forearm are bulging out from the sheer strength he is using to finger fuck you until you see white. His free hand comes down and presses against your stomach to apply pressure and keep you pinned down.

You make the mistake of opening your eyes to stare at him. His hand is covered in your arousal, but what truly pushes you over the edge is the fact that his mask had come down and was covering his face entirely. So when he decides to talk you through it, give you that one final push—the ghostface mask seems to intensify the orgasm tenfold.

“I know you’re a good girl, but I’m gonna need you to get dirty for me baby—there it is, theeere it is,” he sounds proud when you finally cum, and you’re loud. You whine and let out soft cries, your hands weakly push at his arm when he keeps fingering you through your orgasm.

“Suguru—too much!” you cry out and gasp when he pulls his fingers out of your soaking pussy to slap your clit.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he quickly starts to unbuckle his belt and pushes his pants enough to free his cock. The tip nudges at your folds and your husband hovers over you with his lean stature. Big broad shoulders cover your entire frame and you’re fucked out from your previous orgasm.

“I’m going in baby, let me in,” your legs spread instinctively to welcome him inside of you and you groan when you feel the sheer size of him inside you. Your hands grip at the back of his shirt, but Suguru holds himself up on his forearms so that you look at his mask.

“Yeah, that’s right—look at me baby, filthy fucking girl,” his strokes were slow but hard. His hands grab at the back of your thighs and push them before fucking into you harder. “You like it, huh?” you couldn’t even give a proper response, only mindlessly nodding when you could feel him even deeper inside you.

He pushes your knees to your chest before setting a dizzying pace. You feel so full of him, so full of his thick cock and Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head behind his mask every time he felt your pussy squeeze around him. His finger rubs at your clit the same way that you’ve shown him you like it, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart underneath him with a loud cry.

Your orgasm hits you hard and Suguru can’t hold it in any longer—he fucks into you for another minute, head buried in your neck as he groans out your name. Your pussy milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you.

You lay there breathing heavily, and you weakly reach for the ghostface mask and remove it off of your husband to reveal his sweaty forehead and flushed cheeks. He looks gorgeous like that, and you lock eyes for the first time since the entire night and you’re immediately pulled in towards one another.

Suguru kisses you with so much passion, dick still buried deep inside you and your legs stay wrapped around him as you two make out heavily under your sheets that stuck to your sweaty bodies. You pull away for a moment to kiss his forehead and Suguru closes his eyes as he melts at your touch.

“Thank you for that,” you say, so love struck that the man can’t help but chuckle at how breathless you sound.

“Let’s do it again, yeah?”

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

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[witchywithwhiskey]

only man allowed

pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader

summary: you're feeling particularly needy one night, but when you text your situationship to come over, he reminds you that he won't wear a condom, which is a problem since it's a risky time of the month for you. but you tell him to come over anyway.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established situationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), consensual non-consent and consensual sexual coercion, sexual roleplay, 'just the tip' trope, breeding kink, bdsm elements, some biting and marking, some dacryphilia, some pain play, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (baby), begging, teasing, multiple orgasms, aftercare, taking and sending nude photos, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, jealousy, referenced but not shown situationship between reader and john walker, very anti-john walker behavior

word count: 8.5k

a/n: listen, i definitely wrote this at a certain time of the month and i'm not going to apologize for it!!! what i will apologize for is the fact that this ended up being way longer than i expected!! i wanted these to be short little fics, but apparently toxic bucky won't let me keep things short 🤭 anyway, this was fun to write and i hope y'all enjoy it!! ♡

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

You missing me, baby?

You could perfectly imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ stupidly handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye as he asked you that question in response to the picture you’d sent. It was a hastily taken photo of your body clad only in one of Bucky’s t-shirts, your fingers pulling up the hem to show a pair of panties—the ones that had made him groan like he was being tortured when he’d first seen them. 

The truth was, you were missing him. You were horny as fuck and you didn’t care if he knew it—which, you were certain he did, because you only ever sent him lewd photos of yourself when you wanted him—but would it kill Bucky to show a little bit of reciprocity, instead of sending you that teasing response?

It didn’t matter that his playfully cocky words only drove your need higher, your body warming as heat flooded between your thighs. You were missing Bucky’s brand of arrogance, and it was all you could think about, the deep rasp of his voice in your ear while he pounded into you, the dirty and depraved things he’d say as his cock slid into your pussy, stretching you out just the way you needed.

You knew, without even touching yourself, that neither your fingers nor your toys would be enough for you that evening. You needed Bucky. Not John Walker, not any of the other guys on your roster—only Bucky Barnes could satisfy the need burning through your body.

So you rolled onto your knees and lowered your upper body to your bed, arching your ass high in the air. You positioned your phone and took a photo of your curved ass, barely clad in your panties, with the TV on your dresser also in frame. You took photos until you got one that you liked well enough and sent it to Bucky.

I’m bored, come chill.

Your text deliberately didn’t acknowledge Bucky’s question—and you weren’t asking him to come over, you were demanding it. You refused to beg a guy like Bucky Barnes, who refused to be exclusive with you, to come over and fuck you. 

But you knew the simple request would drag him away from whatever he was doing on that Saturday evening and get him to your apartment.

So you were surprised when he texted back and didn’t immediately say he was on his way.

You sure? If we end up fucking, I’m not wearing a condom.

The second you finished reading Bucky’s text, you shoved your face into one of your pillows and let out a frustrated groan. Of course Bucky hadn’t forgotten you were in the process of switching to a new birth control and you’d told him that if he was going to fuck you, he’d have to wear a condom.

He’d taken it better than you expected—especially for a guy who claimed sex with you “didn’t feel as good” when he wore a condom. He hadn’t thrown a tantrum or tried to talk you into fucking bare while it was unsafe. He’d seemed happy enough with handjobs and blowjobs, and had always reciprocated by getting you off with his fingers or mouth.

But you could tell from his text that he was reaching his limit and, truthfully, so were you. 

You missed the feeling of Bucky’s bare cock sliding into you, the heat of his stiff length and the drag of his veins against your sensitive inner walls. You were desperate to feel his cum flooding your cunt, filling you up with his seed while his balls twitched against your ass or clit, and he groaned low and deep in your ear. 

Bucky was the only man on your roster allowed to fuck you bare, and it was entirely contingent on him swearing on his mother’s grave that you were the only girl he fucked without a condom. As far as you knew, Bucky had kept his promise—which you knew because you made him get tested at the local clinic at least once a month. 

Still, you were only four weeks in to the 4-6 week period where your doctor had told you to use secondary methods of birth control while you were switching prescriptions. And you were so horny that you were probably ovulating—but you wanted Bucky so bad you could barely think. 

In fact, the thought of letting Bucky cum inside you when it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and was extra not safe because you were switching your birth control, turned you on so much, your whole body shivered with need. Something about the idea, how risky it was, how it might mean Bucky would knock you up, was too good to be ignored. 

You were so horny, you were seconds away from shoving a pillow between your thighs simply so you’d have something to hump against. That probably should’ve been a sign that you weren’t thinking clearly, but instead, it had you making up your mind.

You decided having Bucky over—having him fuck you raw—was worth the risk. In a brief moment of clarity, you reasoned with yourself that there was always the morning after pill. That was good enough for you.

So you texted him back.

I’m sure.

Bucky showed up to your apartment so soon after you texted him that you were sure that he either broke a number of traffic laws driving over from wherever he’d been, or he’d already been on his way. You loved both ideas, and didn’t want him to give you another reason, so you opted not to ask.

But for how fast he’d gotten to your place, he seemed content to take his time getting to the main event. When you opened the door, you’d been expecting (or, rather, hoping) he’d pounce on you. Instead, he pulled you into his arms and gave you a brief, chaste kiss, asking how your week was and how you’d been since he last saw you.

Then, as you entertained his desire for small talk, Bucky made himself comfortable, stretching out on your bed after kicking off his shoes and beckoning you to curl up with him. You did so, a little warily, and even put on a show you’d seen a million times since you figured Bucky would distract you from it soon enough. 

But he didn’t. 

You lasted all of five minutes before you were lifting your head from Bucky’s chest to look at him, surprised to find the guy you’d texted to come over and fuck you was seemingly engrossed in your show. You whined his name in a pitiful voice, “Bucky.” 

The arrogant smirk you’d pictured when he’d texted you earlier spread across his face and he squeezed you tighter in his hard, muscled arms. 

“Shhh, baby, watch your show,” he rumbled, rolling you onto your back so he was curled around your side, throwing a leg over yours and burying his scruffy face in your neck. “I’m just here to chill, right?” There was a teasing note in his voice that had you huffing out a frustrated sound.

“Bucky…” you grumbled, even as you shifted your head on your pillows to give him easier access to your neck. He rewarded you by kissing your soft skin, sending a tendril of heat curling down your spine and settling heavily between your thighs. “You know this isn’t what I meant when I told you to come over.” 

Bucky lifted himself up onto his forearm, hovering above you so he could stare down into your eyes. His arrogant smirk had slipped off his face, leaving a serious expression as he took in the pinched, frustrated look on yours. He seemed to come to some kind of decision as he stared at you.

“It’s not a safe time for you, right, baby?” he asked, each word said slowly, intentionally, another meaning laced within. “You don’t want me to tell you that I’m horny as fuck and the only thing I want is to bury my bare cock in you and cum in your unprotected pussy—you don’t want me to try to talk you into it, to coerce you, right, baby?”

At his filthy words, your heart thundered in your chest and your pulse thrummed between your thighs, and for a brief, blistering moment, you considered throwing a whole entire hissy fit because that’s not what you wanted. You wanted the opposite of what Bucky was saying—and then the deeper meaning in his words hit you. 

Bucky wasn’t really asking if you wanted him to be nice and respectful of the boundaries you’d set, even though you’d already essentially given him permission to ignore them. He was asking if you wanted to play along with the idea that you were reluctant to let him fuck you without a condom while you were at risk of getting knocked up.

“That’s not what you want, is it, baby?” Bucky rumbled, his gaze holding yours as he nodded his head slowly, the gesture so at odds with his words, it could only mean he was asking you the opposite of what he said.

You’d been eager for Bucky to fuck you—you were so horny, it was the only thing you could think about—but the opportunity of playing this game with him was too enticing to pass up. Pretending to be reluctant, pretending to slowly give in to Bucky’s whims when it was what you both really wanted, would only make the sex that much hotter. 

An excited smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you saw Bucky’s gaze drop to your lips, his own face flickering with elation as he took in your reaction. You waited until his eyes returned to yours before you answered him.

“Noooo, that’s definitely not what I want, daddy,” you whimpered huskily, the barest hint of sarcasm in your tone as you struggled to stop from smirking. Your head was nodding just as Bucky’s had, and he was the first to break, an eager grin spreading across his face. 

He ducked down and brushed another frustratingly brief kiss to your lips. “You got it, baby, no fucking tonight—just chilling,” he murmured, a teasing tone in his voice that had your body tingling with anticipation.

You were less surprised that time when Bucky snuggled back down on top of you, his mouth going back to your neck where he was working on sucking a hickey into the side of your throat.

Since you knew the game you were playing, it was a little easier to settle in and watch your show, all the while trying to forget the way your pussy was pulsing with need. Still, you wouldn’t have said it was easy to ignore the steady twitching of Bucky’s cock against your thigh as he hardened in his sweatpants.

It only got more difficult to keep your attention on your show when Bucky’s hand slid under your shirt, his fingers trailing idly over your stomach until he eventually reached your tits. He began kneading your soft flesh lazily, his fingers plucking teasingly at your nipples, while his mouth sucked on your neck. 

Despite how obvious it was that Bucky was taking his time, it wasn’t long before you were a wet, whimpering mess beneath him.

“Bucky, w-we shouldn’t fool around,” you murmured breathily, mouth tripping over the words as you voiced the exact opposite of what you wanted. It was like your lips didn’t want to play the game you’d started, but you were rewarded for their effort by his frustrated growl, which had you throbbing between your thighs.

“It’s fine, baby, we’re not doing anything we shouldn’t…” he rumbled against your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin and making you shiver. 

The word “yet” hung unspoken in what little space there was between your bodies, and the promise of it had you warming even more, pressing your thighs together against the ache pulsing in your core. “Bucky,” you whimpered his name, your hips twisting toward him like they had a mind of their own.

“Are ya getting wet, baby?” he asked teasingly in your ear, his fingers tripping down your body until they skimmed along the hem of your panties. All you could do was whine in response and Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, I bet you’re dripping for me.”

Your chest was already heaving with heavier breaths just from the way Bucky was teasing his fingers beneath the edge of your panties, taking his sweet time going any lower to where you really needed him. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, and your intention had been to shove his hand deeper into your panties so he’d finally touch your pussy, but instead he stopped.

“Don’t worry, baby, ‘m not gonna fuck you, no matter how wet your pretty little pussy is,” Bucky murmured in your ear, brushing a kiss to your cheek. 

Though his words might’ve sounded reassuring, his tone was a deliciously teasing rumble and you could feel his smirk against your cheek. Your body trembled, your thighs parting for Bucky of their own accord, which had him humming a pleased sound. 

“Good girl, just let me feel you.”

Bucky’s fingers finally dipped into your panties and slid down to your pussy, a breathy little moan bursting from your lips. The feel of his warm, skilled fingers slipping through your soaking wet folds, bumping against your clit before swirling around your aching, clenching hole, was almost too much. 

You had to bite your lip against the urge to beg Bucky to fuck you already, not wanting to ruin the game that was making everything hotter. But he seemed to lose himself for a moment, burying his face in your neck and groaning while his fingers slipped between your swollen and soppy lower lips.

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re drenched for me,” Bucky growled, his voice low and no longer teasing. His fingers were dipping shallowly into your hole and spreading your wetness around, making a mess of your pussy. “You feel so fucking ripe, I gotta feel it—gotta feel you against my cock.”

Bucky was already pushing your panties down your thighs, rising above you and tearing his shirt off over his head before tugging your own shirt from your body. 

At the same time, you were kicking your panties from around your ankles and spreading your legs, sitting up shove at the waistband of Bucky’s sweatpants. When his cock bounced free, you reached for his perfect length, saliva already pooling in your mouth as you gave his girth a reverent stroke.

But then Bucky was urging you back down, guiding your shoulders to the bed and covering your body with his own. You arched up into his warmth while he settled between your thighs, your fingers clinging to his sides.

His darkened eyes were fixed on the juncture of your legs, his fingers going back to playing through your wetness and spreading it around to make a mess of your pussy. Occasionally, he’d bump against your clit, which made your body jolt every time he brushed the needy bundle of nerves. 

Bucky felt so good, and you were so close to getting what you really wanted—his cock inside you—but you forced yourself to remember the game you were playing.

You grabbed Bucky’s face in both hands, tipping it up so you could catch his eye. There was an almost dazed look on his face, but he blinked and focused back on you.

“It isn’t a safe time of the month,” you said, as sternly as you could manage. But your breaths were coming too quickly for there to be much steel in your voice. Bucky’s thumb brushed over your clit purposefully and your hips bore down on his hand, your body begging for more as you whined, “You can’t fuck me bare, Bucky.” 

“I won’t, baby,” Bucky purred, wrapping the fingers that were sticky with your desire around the hard length of his cock. He chuckled when you whimpered at the loss of his touch, leaning down over you and brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Just let me rub against you—you’re so wet, it’ll feel so good. I won’t push inside your drippy little pussy, baby, I promise.”

You knew he was lying, and you knew Bucky knew you knew he was lying. For some reason, that made everything so much hotter. So did playing the reluctant participant, which was why you bit your lip with fake nervousness as you stared up at Bucky, your panting breaths adding even more uncertainty to your voice when you spoke.

“Oh-okay, daddy, you can rub against me—but no more.” 

The words were barely out of your mouth before Bucky was sliding his thick, hard cock between your pussy lips, making you moan and spread your legs wider, raising your knees toward your chest to give him all the access he needed. 

Bucky let out a groan and dropped down to cover you with his body, his arms digging beneath your back to hold you pinned tightly against his chest. Your sensitive nipples rubbed against him, teasing you relentlessly.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Bucky rumbled, rocking his hips so his cock dragged between your swollen, dripping folds, rubbing against your clit and sending sparks of pleasure swirling through your body. “So wet… You’re making a fucking mess on my cock, baby.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered in Bucky’s ear, your body shuddering under the onslaught of blistering pleasure and aching emptiness in your core. 

You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s shoulders, hands digging into his soft brown hair and holding onto him while his hips kept rocking into the cradle of your body, his cock grinding against your clit until you were gushing with wetness all over his stiff length.

“Doesn’t it feel good, baby?” Bucky murmured in your ear, his voice sweetly entreating, like he was trying to convince you of something, though you were already very well aware that his hard shaft grinding into your dripping wet pussy felt better than it had any right. “You’re creaming all over daddy’s cock, baby—tell me how good it feels.”

“Nngh, so goooood,” you keened, hooking your ankles around the backs of Bucky’s thighs to get better leverage to grind against his hard length. You were caught between wanting more and wanting to keep grinding against him. “Your cock feels sooo good, daddy, so big and hard against my drippy pussy.”

“Fuck, ‘m so hard for you,” Bucky groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he rutted into your soft, drenched folds with rough, punishing thrusts. “My dick’s throbbing for your cunt, baby, can you feel it?”

He pressed his shaft deep into your slit, the flared head of his cock bullying your clit, and you could feel it. You could feel the pulse in his hard length, joining the rhythm in your center. 

Your body reacted on instinct, your inner walls clenching hard around nothing while you whined his name, “Buckyyy.”

“I can feel you, baby,” Bucky rumbled, the teasing tone back in his voice. “I can feel your cunt mouthing at my cock.” 

Bucky’s words sounded so deliciously depraved that you wanted to turn your head and kiss him, to taste his debauchery straight from his tongue. You knew he had a filthy mouth, but his dirty talk was even hotter because of the game you were playing—and he just kept talking. 

“Feels like ya want me to fuck you, baby,” he cooed, lifting his head to speak directly in your ear. “Does your pretty little cunt wanna get fucked?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to scream, ‘Yes!’ You wanted to get fucked so bad. You practically desperate for Bucky to push inside you and impale you on his cock, to pump into your pussy bare and cum inside you. You managed to bite it back at the last second for the sake of the role you were playing, but you couldn’t get any other words out.

When you were quiet, save for your panting breaths while Bucky’s hips kept up their torturous rocking, he lifted himself, bracing on his forearms so he could hover above you and see your face. He raised an eyebrow in question, his body slowing its movement as his gaze raked over your face, uncertainty flickering in the depths of his blue eyes.

It was clear he was questioning whether you still wanted to play the game you’d both started, and the fact that he was taking the time to check in with you had your heart squeezing uncomfortably in your chest. 

It was an annoying reminder that Bucky wasn’t the kind of man to be selfish and self-absorbed in bed. Even if he was only your situationship, he made sure you were enjoying everything he was doing. 

And you wanted him to know you were enjoying yourself very much—and that you still wanted to play the role you’d been given.

“I want you so bad, Bucky.” The words tumbled from your lips as you gave in to the urge to assuage Bucky’s concern. “I want you so bad, but we shouldn’t,” you whined, pouting up at him as you slipped back into the game. 

The furrow of concern smoothed itself from Bucky’s brow and he smirked before ducking down to capture your lips in a quick kiss. 

His hips began rocking into you again, and he swallowed your responding moan greedily. He groaned himself when you used your ankles hooked around his thighs to grind back against him, your soft, wet pussy sliding against the rough ridge of his cock and making a mess of both of you.

“What if I…what if I just push the tip in?” Bucky rasped, pulling away and catching your eye, a smirk fluttered at the edges of his mouth, like he was trying to hold it back but was failing. “Just the tip—just let me feel you. Please, baby, I wanna feel you so fucking bad.” 

Bucky bowed his head, pressing sweet kisses to your collarbones, a barely restrained chuckle rumbling his chest. It seemed he’d lost the battle with being able to keep a straight face and you couldn’t blame him, your mouth was spread in a mischievous grin while your nails raked through his short brown hair.

“It’s not safe,” you reminded him, but there was an edge of glee in your tone. 

You couldn’t hide the fact that you were having fun with Bucky, playing out the little game he’d started. You were so close to getting what you wanted, that it only made it more difficult to pretend you didn’t want it. 

So when you murmured, “If you cum inside me, Bucky…” your voice was breathless with desire, and you had to cut yourself off to bite back the moan that wanted to be set free. 

Bucky smirked against your neck, his teeth nipping playfully at the mark he’d left on your throat before he responded. “It’s just the tip, baby, promise—I won’t cum inside you.”

Had it always been so easy for you to hear when Bucky was lying, or had he given up on the pretense of the game so much that it was even more obvious? 

The question flitted across your mind but didn’t stay long. You were too busy gasping a quick, “Ok,” your hips tilting, trying to catch the tip of Bucky’s cock in your hole on one of his grinding thrusts. However, it wasn’t until he pulled his hips back that the head of his hard length notched at your tight, clenching pussy.

Both of you held your breath when Bucky pushed inside. He stopped when just the tip was nestled inside the entrance of your warm, wet cunt. 

“Fuuuck,” Bucky groaned, pressing his face into the side of your neck, his hot breath fanning over the hollow of your throat and his scruff rasping against your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking warm, baby,” he rumbled into your neck, the sensation of his mouth against your throat making you shiver all over. “Gotta do it again.”

His muttered words were your only warning before his hips reared back, the broad tip of his cock pulling free from your grasping hole. A tortured whimper slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, and Bucky chuckled as he slid back inside you, your pitiful sound dissolving into a moan when the head of his cock popped into your cunt.

“Yeah, that feels good, doesn’t it?” Bucky crooned in your ear, doing it again, slower that time, making you feel every tiny bit of his tip pushing into your weeping hole. “My cock sliding into your drippy little cunt—you’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Bucky, so wet for you,” you echoed, unable to do more when all your focus was on not impaling yourself on Bucky’s cock. Your body squirmed beneath his larger form, one of Bucky’s big hands pressing down on your hip like he knew you were barely holding back from pushing yourself down on his cock.

“It would be so easy for me to slide all the way inside, don’t ya think, baby?” Bucky purred in a teasing tone, his hips rocking forward until he’d pushed another inch deeper before pulling back so only the tip was inside you again.

Just that little tease had you moaning mindlessly beneath Bucky, tears of desire and frustration springing to your eyes. 

Your arms wrapped tightly around Bucky’s shoulders and your legs hooked around the backs of his thighs, trying to pull him in deeper. You needed more, to hell with the game you’d been playing. You needed him inside you already. 

“Bucky, please,” you begged on a sob, pressing your face into his cheek.

“I can feel your cunt gripping me, baby, sucking on me—she wants me to push deeper,” Bucky rumbled in your ear, a gruffness to his voice that told you he was reaching the limit of his patience with the game as well. 

In that moment, you’d have done anything to get Bucky to fuck you properly, but before you could speak, he went on. 

“Do you want it, baby?” he asked, his voice rough as crushed rock, his own breaths hot and heavy against your skin. “Want my cock buried deep inside you, filling you up and fucking you hard?”

“Yes, Bucky, please,” you gasped, your hands diving into his hair and pulling his head up so you could look him in the eye. You had to blink the tears from your eyes to do it, but you didn’t want there to be any confusion about what you wanted. “Fuck me, daddy, please!”

A slow, depraved grin spread across Bucky’s face as his eyes roved over your tear-stained cheeks. You felt the tip of his cock twitch inside you, and your body gave an answering clench, like it was begging him to slide inside. But Bucky seemed happy to let his eyes wander over your face, relishing the sight of you crying and begging him to fuck you. 

It felt like a small eternity before his gaze met yours again and he seemed ready to give you what you wanted. 

“But don’t cum inside you, right, baby?” Bucky asked, a devious tone in his voice. His hips pulled back and thrust forward slowly, pushing his big cock inside you at a torturous pace. Bucky’s grin was teasing as he went on, murmuring, “Wouldn’t want daddy knocking you up, right, baby?” 

At Bucky’s words, something inside you snapped. Your mind went blank and your body moved on its own, your legs hiking up Bucky’s sides to wrap tightly around his lower back. Your heels dug into his firm ass and you whined loudly until he let you pull him deeper inside you.

Bucky’s cock impaled you with one thrust, a pleasured grunt slipping from his mouth, half-muffled against your neck. He filled you up all the way to the root of his thick cock and you moaned, long and loud in his ear. 

You finally got what you wanted. Finally, you were full of his cock.

Bucky was buried so deep inside you that you could feel his balls pressed against your ass—his big, heavy balls, full of the seed you desperately wanted him to pump inside you. The desire left you dizzy and dazed, your body thrumming with a need to be filled, to be knocked up, to be bred by your situationship.

“Breed me, Bucky,” you whispered breathlessly in his ear. 

He stilled for a very brief second, but then he was groaning obscenely, sucking hard on the hickey he’d already left. Whether it was a reward or a punishment, you didn’t know—nor did you care.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky grunted, his legs shifting on your bed and repositioning himself to fight against the stranglehold you had on his body. 

He pushed up onto his forearms so he could hover above you, his eyes raking over your face as he rolled his hips to fuck you in hard, shallow thrusts that had your lips parting, punched-out whines slipping from your mouth. 

You were so consumed in basking in your pleasure that it took you a moment to realize Bucky had gone quiet—quieter than he normally was when he was fucking you. It took another moment for you to blink your vision back into focus and when you did, you sucked in a sharp breath at the look of pure, depraved desire on Bucky’s face. 

“Do you have something you want to tell me, baby?” he asked dryly, lifting an eyebrow in question. Before you could answer, he ducked down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, the heat of his tongue flicking into your mouth making you moan. “Does my girl have a breeding kink she failed to tell me about?” he asked in a teasing tone, plunging his cock deep into your pussy and grinding hard against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

“Not your girl,” you managed to gasp, even through the pleasure. 

A low growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, but it cut off abruptly. It seemed your situationship didn’t like being reminded that he wasn’t the only one who fucked you. Bucky nipped at your bottom lip, biting it a little harshly, making your pussy clench around his cock as you whined through the brief sting.  

“Does John fucking Walker know about your breeding kink?” Bucky seethed, his voice suddenly furious. His anger was reflected in the way he picked up the pace of his hips, fucking you in rough, hard thrusts that had you crying out and clinging to his shoulders, your nails sinking deep into his golden skin. “Do you let John fucking Walker fuck you raw—fucking tell me, baby.”

“No,” you cried, tears of pleasure slipping from your eyes and trailing down your temples into your hair. Bucky’s lips found the salty tears and he kissed them from your skin, making your heart and pussy clench simultaneously. “You’re the only one allowed to fuck me bare, Bucky, you know that.” 

“That’s fucking right,” he growled, punctuating each of his words with brutal thrusts. “I’m the only man who fucks this pussy raw,” he went on in a gruff, furious voice, raising up onto his arms so he could look you in the eye. “I’m the only man who cums inside this cunt, who fills you up until you’re leaking my seed all down your pretty thighs—I’m the only man who breeds you, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes—yes, Bucky, only you,” you cried, squirming beneath him, using your ankles hooked around his thighs to meet Bucky’s thrusts. It didn’t even occur to you to fight him on his possessive questions—he was right. He was the only one allowed to do all those things. “Only you, only you—please, I need you to breed me Bucky!”

You were getting close, but before you could tumble over the edge of your release, Bucky sat up, breaking the hold of your arms as he pushed up onto his knees. You let out a frustrated wail, but stopped short at the expression on Bucky’s face.

The look in his eye was wild, nearly feral. His hands were rough and possessive when he grabbed your plush thighs, pushing them up toward your chest until you were folded in half. His cock was still inside you, but not nearly as deep as you wanted it in the position Bucky was in. 

Your hips squirmed, a whine working its way up your throat before spilling free.

Bucky leaned back down on top of you, pinning your legs to your chest and your body to the bed as his cock slid deeper until you were so full of him, you swore you could feel him in womb—even though you knew that was impossible. 

He stayed like that, buried inside you, his cock stretching out your tight cunt while he rocked his hips, grinding deeper into you. All the while, he stared at you, his gaze glittering with the wildness that spoke of a deep-rooted possessiveness, but when he spoke, his voice was deceptively sweet.

“You want daddy to breed you, baby?” Bucky cooed in your ear, his mouth pressing wet, messy kisses to your cheek and jaw. “You knew it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and you let me fuck you raw anyway—such a silly little cumslut pretending you didn’t want it, but you do, right, baby?”

All you could manage was a punched-out, “Uh huh,” Bucky’s heavy weight pressing the air from your lungs while he crushed you to the bed. He shifted a little, so you could breathe, but it didn’t seem to matter that you’d responded, because he went on as if he hadn’t even heard you.

“You wanna feel my fat cock bruising your cervix, baby?” he huffed, pausing only to nip at the lobe of your ear with his teeth, making you clench hard around his cock. His next words came out on a filthy groan, pouring into your ear and settling deep in your mind. “Ya want me to flood your fertile little cunt with my seed and breed you—is that it?” 

You were half feral yourself with desire, with your need to cum—with your need to feel him cum inside you—and you weren’t sure if Bucky was checking in with you, or if he was getting off on teasing you, but you rushed to answer, telling him the truth.

“God, Bucky, yes—please,” you whined, your fingers digging into his soft hair and towing his head until your mouth found his, kissing him messily while he kept fucking you in hard, rough thrusts. “Fill me up with your cum, daddy, make me your pretty little cumdump, please, I want it—I need it!” you cried into Bucky’s mouth, your words half muffled because neither of you wanted to pull away. 

“Jesus fucking christ, baby,” Bucky grunted, his hot breath panting past your lips. You felt his mouth curve into a sly smirk. “First you don’t want me to fuck you because it isn’t safe,” he murmured in a teasing tone. “And now you want me to breed your little pussy full of cum—which is it, baby, d’you want me to pull out or cum inside your unprotected cunt?”

A mindless moan slipped from your lips at his filthy question, your mind going entirely blank for a split second. All you could do was feel—Bucky’s thick cock pounding into your pussy, the tip hitting a spot inside you that felt so good, you never wanted him to stop. It was too good, you didn’t want him to pull out, even if it would’ve been the smart decision.

“Breed me, daddy,” you begged in a throaty, desperate voice. “Breed me, cum inside me—please, please, please!”

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, but he sounded pleased, too. “I’m so fucking close, baby, so close to draining my balls in your tight little cunt.” 

His body shifted and then he was pounding into you in a new, better angle, making you feel impossibly good as you careened toward the edge of your release. 

“Tell me, baby,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to yours. “Tell me you never let John fucking Walker cum inside you—tell me I’m the only man allowed to breed you.”

You whined, well aware you’d already told him—and he already knew he was the only one allowed to cum inside you. But it fed the possessiveness Bucky felt, and it felt good to give him that, so you did. 

“You’re the only one,” you promised in a thready voice, your pleasure dripping from every word. “The only man allowed to cum inside me—you’re the only man allowed to breed me, daddy!”

Bucky captured your mouth in a dominating kiss, his tongue plunging past your lips like he was desperate to fuck as many of your holes at the same time as possible. You moaned into his mouth, gripping his face and holding him close while you sucked on his tongue, your nails raking through the scruff on his jaw, both of you groaning at how good the other felt.

Finally, Bucky managed to wrench himself away from your clinging grip and his face hovered above yours, a devious smirk on his plump lips.

“Ya know I heard,” he started, his voice a little breathless and gruff, the deep sound of it singing through your body and making you shiver as your pussy pulsed around his thrusting cock. “If you cum at the same time as me, you’re more likely to get knocked up.” 

A violent shiver raced down your spine and your pussy clenched hard around Bucky’s cock. His words were going to be the end of you, you just knew it, but what a glorious end it would be.

Bucky grinned at your body’s reaction, looking far too pleased with himself, though you were too far gone in your pleasure to try to wipe that smirk off his face. Not that he gave you much opportunity, ducking down to murmur in your ear.

“Rub your clit, baby, I wanna feel you cumming on my cock while I’m knocking you up.”

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you whimpered pleasure spiraling through you at his words, but you did as he said. 

You slipped your hand between your bodies, finding your clit messy and sticky with your desire, your fingertips brushing the thick shaft of Bucky’s cock as he fucked you. Rubbing your clit in ruthless little circles, your body pulled tight.

“Bucky, I’m gonna cum—don’t stop!”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as the coiled tension in your body finally shattered, and you came with a strangled cry, pleasure consuming your mind and body. 

Your release washed over you in waves of bliss that were so intense, you could feel your arms and legs trembling, your cunt clenching hard around Bucky’s thick length that was still plunging deep into your grasping channel.

“That’s it, baby, cum on daddy’s cock,” Bucky rasped, brushing sloppy kisses to your face as he rutted into you, his thrusts turning wild and rough. “You feel so fucking good, baby, you’re doing so good for me, gonna make me a daddy for real, baby—Jesus fuck.” 

Bucky cut himself off on a groan, his hips pressing flush to the backs of your thighs, his cock impaled to the hilt in your still fluttering cunt. He came with a loud moan, his cock twitching inside you as he shot rope after rope of cum into your pussy. Your inner walls milked every last drop of seed from his balls while he painted the inside of you white.

When Bucky was finally spent, he collapsed on top of you, your bodies easing into a more comfortable position. He lay on top of you in the cradle of your thighs, his palms smoothing over your hips and sides while your fingers stroked idly through his soft hair. You made small sounds of contentment, and an answering, pleased rumble, sounded in his chest. 

Finally, just when it was beginning to get uncomfortable bearing so much of Bucky’s weight, he heaved himself up onto his knees and carefully slid his cock from your thoroughly used pussy. You watched him, his gaze focused on the slit between your thighs, and you saw the moment his blue eyes darkened when his cum started dripping out of you.

You reached between you thighs, which were splayed over his his spread knees, to clean up the cum before it made a mess of your bedsheets, but Bucky knocked your hand away. He fished through the mussed up bedding until he found his discarded sweatpants and pulled his phone from the pocket. 

Your body was limp with sated pleasure, and he’d taken enough post-sex photos of you, that you let Bucky arrange you how he wanted. You even held your legs open for him so he could position his phone above your pussy and take a couple close-up photos of his cum spilling out of your pussy. Then he pulled his phone back, so your whole body was in the shot.

“Say, ‘I’m gonna be a mommy,’ baby,” Bucky ordered, a lazy grin on his face.

Between your thighs, your pussy pulsed at the words, which sounded so innocent and so filthy at the same time. Heat filled your cheeks and you turned your head to the side, trying to bury your face in a pillow while you whined, “Bucky.” 

You knew it was silly to be shy about saying something so innocuous, especially after everything you and Bucky had just said and done, but the moment was over. You didn’t normally have such a breeding kink, but you’d been so horny and it had made you so hot to talk about getting bred while Bucky was inside you. 

However, it felt like a whole other thing to play into it when the heat of the moment had passed. It felt like the kind of thing boyfriends and girlfriends did, and you knew better than to tread into that territory. 

Still, your body warmed at the idea of looking into Bucky’s camera and saying those words…

“Baby,” Bucky crooned, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “C’mon, I know you wanna,” he murmured in your ear, his mouth brushing butterfly kisses along your jaw. “You don’t have to be shy with me, baby, I know you’re a dirty little breeding slut desperate to be daddy’s good little cumdump.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky,” you groaned, but you were smiling when you turned your head and met his mouth for a kiss. 

Bucky let you kiss him for a few moments before he pulled away and sat up, holding his camera in position while he raised his eyebrows at you in an expectant expression.

“I’m gonna be a mommy,” you mumbled, pouting up at the camera while Bucky snapped a few photos. It wasn’t long before you were smiling and preening for the camera, sticking your tits out and holding your legs even wider for Bucky.

“Good girl,” he murmured, catching your eye as he lowered his phone. He was giving you a pleased smirk, and you smiled up at him in return.

Bucky gently moved your legs from around his waist and flopped down on the bed beside you, swiping through the photos he’d taken of his cum leaking out of your pussy while you curled around his bicep. You had to admit, they looked hot—even the ones of you pouting and mumbling up at him.

Seeing yourself like that was turning you on and you were just about to shimmy down Bucky’s body and lick his cock clean until he was hard again when he spoke, derailing your dirty thoughts.

“I’ll pick up the morning after pill for you before I head home,” he rumbled absentmindedly, still focused more on his phone. You could see him favoriting some of the photos he’d taken and saving them to a separate folder. “And if you are knocked up, I’ll pay to have it taken care of—but don’t expect me to cuddle you and do boyfriend shit after.”

For a moment, you restrained the urge to smack Bucky in the face with a pillow. And then you thought, why not? You weren’t his girlfriend, you didn’t need to play nice. 

So you grabbed the pillow behind your head and brought it down right on Bucky’s face. He let out a satisfying, startled ‘oomph’ sound, and you chuckled as you rolled out of bed. 

“Gee, thanks,” you shot over your shoulder sarcastically as you padded toward the bathroom, intent on cleaning Bucky’s cum from between your thighs. 

But then you had an evil thought and a wicked smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. You wiped that look off your face, though, as you turned and leaned against your doorway, striking a casual pose.

“Maybe if I’m knocked up, I’ll just let John fuck me bare and tell him it’s his,” you said, giving a carefree little shrug while trying not to make it obvious how close you were watching Bucky.

You were delighted when his head snapped toward you, his gaze finally pulling away from his phone as his brows lowered into a glare. His soft mouth turned down at the corners, a furious frown darkening his face.

“D’you think John would offer to marry me?” you asked, ignoring Bucky’s reaction and tapping your chin with one finger like you were thinking. “He strikes me as the type of man who’d want to make an ‘honest woman’ out of me.” You couldn’t hold in your eye roll, even as you were trying to torture Bucky with the possibility of you marrying John fucking Walker.

In an instant, Bucky was up and off the bed, pinning you to the doorframe of your room with every inch of his big, strong body pressed against yours. You only had time to gasp while Bucky quickly gathered your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head. His hardening cock was trapped against your belly, the stickiness of both your releases rubbing into your skin.

“You’re not marrying John fucking Walker, baby,” Bucky growled while he loomed over you. He was so close, you had to tilt your head back to look up at him, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. “And you’re certainly not raising my kid with Walker’s last name.” 

At that, you had to laugh. But when you saw how serious Bucky still looked, you realized he didn’t realize you were just trying to get a rise out of him. Something about the thought of you marrying John Walker had clearly made all rational thought completely abandon Bucky in that moment. 

Instead of thinking too hard about Bucky’s reaction, you explained yourself to him.

“Bucky, it was a joke,” you wheezed, giving him an incredulous look. “Of course I’m not gonna marry John.”

Bucky’s eyes flitted back and forth between yours, like he was checking to make sure you were being honest. He must’ve decided you were because he blew out a breath and closed his eyes, his forehead falling to yours. 

“Jesus, baby, you drive me fucking wild sometimes,” he rumbled, but there was humor in his tone, albeit reluctant.

A breathless laugh slipped from your lips and you leaned back against the doorframe, hiking your leg up around Bucky’s waist. He caught it in his free hand, the movement pressing his thickening cock between your thighs, making both of you groan.

“I think you should show me exactly how wild I make you,” you purred, rocking your hips against his stiff length, coating him in the mixture of your desire and his cum still leaking out of you. 

Bucky growled, his eyes flying open as he stared at you and worked his cock against your pussy. 

“Careful what you ask for, baby,” he rumbled, his tone a delicious taunt that had your toes curling against the floorboards and your hips tilting so you could rub your clit against his hard shaft. “Or you’re gonna get another load pumped into your tight, unprotected little cunt.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy,” you sassed, smirking up at Bucky and watching as his eyes darkened with desire.

In a flash, Bucky dropped your leg and let go of your wrists, spinning you around to face the doorframe and yanking your hips toward his lap with a rough, possessive grip on your body. Your upper body fell forward and your hands clung to the doorframe, nails digging into the wood when Bucky entered you in a swift, hard thrust.

Bucky fucked you in the doorway of your bedroom, making you promise yet again that you’d never let John Walker fuck you without a condom before emptying a second load inside you.

After, he followed you to the bathroom, hopping in the shower with you where he drained what little cum was left in his balls inside your pussy before helping you clean up—though you suspected he only offered to help so he could finger his cum deeper into your cunt under the pretense of cleaning you.

When you were both finally, finally sated, you collapsed into your bed together. Your mind was blissfully blank and your body deliciously sore as you cuddled together. Bucky dozed for a bit, his head on your chest while you carded your fingers through his hair and watched your show.

After a while, Bucky roused and got dressed, going out to get you the morning after pill from the nearest drug store, just like he’d said he would. 

He also brought you back your favorite sports drink and snacks, explaining in a gruff voice that he’d read the potential side effects of the pill on the box and wanted you to be prepared. You refused to feel any type of way about that.

Then Bucky kissed you and left to head home.

All things considered, it was a good thing your new birth control had taken effect, or the morning after pill had worked, and you didn’t get pregnant despite the evening you’d had with Bucky. It was a relief when you were able to tell him that your risky night hadn’t led to any of the consequences the both of you had willfully ignored.

When you texted him to tell him you’d gotten your period, he responded quickly, messaging twice in quick succession. The first text made you roll your eyes, because you thought that was all he’d have to say. 

Good.

But then you saw the second message, and you could imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ ridiculously handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye when he’d sent it.

It made you smile, and you had to bite your lip against a giggle, forcefully reminding yourself that he was just a situationship.

Let me know when you wanna play ‘just the tip’ to ‘breed me, daddy’ again, baby.

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

[solar-wing]

⚣ Puppy Love: Sweet and Romantic, but also somehow Murderous ❤️‍🔥

⚣❤️‍🔥 A/N → something I started writing while finishing up Shadowing Nightwing. Is this what I imagine my relationship to be like with Jason on a regular basis...absolutely. Absolutely. Am I somewhat delusional and living in a fantasy world? Also, absolutely, but also, mind your fucking business. anyways...! This was inspired from multiple posts and authors, who I have tagged and hyperlinked. @allllium @maj-b-s Thank you for feeding my obsession—ahem—my therapist will be sending you a bill. tee hee... WARNINGS: 18 + MDNI | College Male Reader | Fluff & Humor | Minor Violence (Implied) | Swearing/Crude Language | Smut | Breathplay | Possessiveness/Jealousy | Everyone wants Y/N's man |

⚣❤️‍🔥 Summary → Meet Jason and Y/N: Gotham’s answer to the ultimate “relationship goals”—if your relationship goals involve an overly protective vigilante with a slight obsession for tearing apart his boyfriend’s scandalous wardrobe (and sometimes his coworkers). Their love story? Equal parts intense, adorable, and absolutely chaotic. Jason’s the growling, brooding protector who’d burn the world for Y/N, while Y/N is the sunshine with just enough sass to keep him in check… well, sometimes.

⚣❤️‍🔥 Word Count → 14.5K

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY ❤️‍🔥

If you asked anyone, they might hesitate to admit it outright, but the truth was hard to ignore: people envied Jason and Y/N’s relationship—and who could blame them? From the day those two started dating, they’d been like high-school sweethearts stuck in the honeymoon phase, but with ten times the intensity and none of the restraint. Not to sound bitter or envious—it was just a fact.

They were a painfully adorable couple. Jason was the doting, protective lover, almost to a fault. Sure, it’s a bit of a cliché, but he didn’t exactly help himself with the stark difference in how he treated others versus Y/N. Around everyone else, Jason looked permanently grouchy, as though every conversation he endured was a test of patience he barely passed. His eye-rolls, heavy sighs, and palpable disinterest didn’t go unnoticed; in fact, he made it pretty clear he couldn’t wait to walk away from anyone who wasn’t Y/N.

But the moment Y/N entered the room? Suddenly, Jason had nothing more important in the world. It was almost comical to watch this towering vigilante hang onto every word Y/N said like an overly attached puppy. Actually, that was the perfect way to describe their dynamic: Jason was a huge, lethal teddy bear with a soft spot, and Y/N was the unassuming boyfriend who had no clue how much sway he held over this giant who’d kill for him without hesitation.

Honestly, the best way to describe Y/N was as Jason’s polar opposite. He was social—well, social enough—and that sometimes got on his boyfriend’s nerves, who would’ve preferred to keep Y/N all to himself. It was partly jealousy, partly a possessive urge to monopolize his lover’s attention, but mostly it was Jason’s instinct to shield him from a world that had never been kind to the vigilante. Jason had been hardened by a lifetime of darkness, and he’d go to ridiculous lengths to keep Y/N’s light from dimming.

Not that Jason’s methods were exactly…practical.

“Jason, I get that you want to protect me, but you can’t shield me from everything,” Y/N said, finally sitting his boyfriend down for a much-needed conversation after yet another of Jason’s over-the-top protective stunts. “The only way you could do that would be to wrap me in bubble wrap and lock me away in a cave or something.”

“Trust me, I’ve considered it,” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Y/N blinked, raising a brow.

“Nothing.”

Despite Y/N’s more social nature, he was everything Jason felt he was missing in life. He was the humor, the hope, the optimism Jason rarely allowed himself. And sure, his optimism came with a sprinkle of sarcasm when he was annoyed, but Jason loved that too. In fact, he was so taken by Y/N that it was nearly an obsession—though, to be fair, obsession was kind of expected from someone like him.

Would a therapist call it codependency or maybe some kind of unhealthy dynamic? Probably. But good luck telling Jason that. He’d likely see it as a personal attack—and let’s just say that if you value your life, you might want to avoid bringing it up. You’ve been warned.

But back to the point: Y/N and Jason’s relationship quickly became the kind that made even Y/N’s friends—most of whom were floundering in the love department—wonder just how he’d managed to snag such a devoted and caring guy. It especially made Jason feel appreciated, loved, and genuinely important to someone the way Y/N would never miss a chance to gush about his vigilante boyfriend to anyone willing to listen, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly loved every second of it.

Though, do exercise a bit (lot) of caution, because once the topic turns to Jason, everyone’s in for a long haul—Y/N could and would talk anyone’s ear off that was willing to listen about how amazing his boyfriend is. Just as Jason was obsessed with Y/N, Y/N was equally smitten with Jason, and honestly? Jason wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright, Y/N, spill it! I need every detail about how you landed this guy. Don’t hold out on me—give me the exact prayer, word-for-word, quickly!”

“I—uh—well, I—”

“Come on, Y/N! My pen is drying up, and I’m not getting any younger!” His friend slapped a notepad and pen down in front of him, staring him down like he was about to write out a love spell straight from a witch’s spellbook.

“Girl, I don’t even know. The guy just kinda showed up in my life one day and never left,” Y/N shrugged, half-joking, though it was pretty much the truth.

It had all been by chance—well, kind of. If you could call Jason keeping an eye on Y/N “chance.” In reality, he’d been sort of… lurking, for good reasons (or at least reasons he’d justified to himself). It started one night when Y/N was finishing up his work-study shift at Gotham University. Now, calling an Uber would’ve been the smart, safe choice, especially in a city like Gotham. But he lived just 15 minutes away, and spending money on a five-minute ride? Please. He had a budget to consider.

That was before he found himself cornered in a dark alley by three oversized thugs who smelled like the embodiment of an ashtray mixed with cheap beer, a scent so thick it made his eyes water. The kind of men Gotham bred like weeds—rough, desperate, dangerous. Y/N barely had time to process the situation before one of them shoved him against a cold, brick wall, a knife pressing against his throat. His backpack was snatched and dumped unceremoniously onto the wet alley floor, its contents spilling out for their inspection.

His mind raced, paralyzed with fear and regret. He could practically hear his parents' voices reminding him to be cautious, to make smart choices, to avoid walking alone at night in places like this. Irony stung almost as much as the cold steel against his neck—the “responsible” choice would have been to spend that $15 on an Uber, not gamble his safety for a free walk. 

And was the money he’d save really worth risking his life for? Probably not. But hey, that was Gotham for you—always teaching life lessons the hard way. He braced himself, feeling the icy dread of not knowing if he’d make it out alive. Stories like these didn’t usually end well on the news in this city.

But fate, or something like it, had other plans.

Out of nowhere, a low, gravelly voice sliced through the night. “I’d drop the knife if I were you.”

Y/N didn’t dare turn his head, but he felt the tension shift as the thugs looked up, startled. Standing at the mouth of the alley was a figure who seemed to materialize from the shadows—a tall, broad man clad in black and deep red, with a sleeveless hoodie that revealed muscular arms wrapped in red bandages. A mask and hood concealed majority of his face, glowing red eyes staring down the thugs with an intensity that froze them in place. Strapped across his back were two long katanas, and a utility belt around his waist held holsters that almost certainly contained a pair of guns, adding to his already intimidating presence.

Red Hood.

Y/N had heard of him, of course. Gotham’s resident anti-hero, rumored to have a thing for…creative violence. The vigilante’s imposing size was enough to make anyone feel small; he towered over Y/N, his form carved out of muscle and something darker, something hardened. Even the thugs looked ready to wet themselves, and Y/N could feel the goosebumps rise on his skin as he finally dared to look up.

In less time than it took him to blink, Red Hood had closed the distance, dispatching the thugs with an efficiency that would’ve been impressive if it weren’t so, well, terrifying. Knives clattered to the ground, grunts and thuds filled the air, and Y/N just stood there, frozen like a deer in headlights, half expecting to wake up from a weird stress-induced nightmare.

But this was very real, as proven when Red Hood finally turned to him, and Y/N felt his breath hitch. Up close, the vigilante was even more intimidating—a wall of muscle wrapped in dark red and black, those red eyes glowing with an intensity that made Y/N’s knees wobble. There was no denying it; the guy was terrifying. Yet, for some reason, there was a weird, traitorous voice in the back of his mind whispering, He’s kind of hot, though.

“You alright?” The voice was rough, like gravel scraping across metal, but there was an undertone of concern. Red Hood’s gaze softened just a fraction, almost imperceptible, yet Y/N caught it.

“I—I think so,” he managed, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes were wide, and he forced himself not to flinch as Red Hood stepped even closer, the hulking vigilante now looming over him. Up close, he could see the muscles tense beneath the suit, the power radiating off him like heat.

Red Hood’s head tilted slightly, as if assessing him, and Y/N swore he felt like he was being scanned. Which, honestly, was fair. He was some college kid wearing a sweatshirt that said “Gotham U” in block letters, and this guy looked like he wrestled criminals for fun. But instead of feeling like prey, he felt this strange pull, like something was drawing him toward the vigilante. It was probably just adrenaline… or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Red Hood gave a grunt, a sound that could have meant anything from “good to hear” to “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, punk.” But then he leaned down, his helmet casting an ominous shadow over Y/N’s face. “Next time, take the Uber.”

Y/N blinked, the absurdity of the situation hitting him all at once. “Noted,” he replied, deadpan, because honestly, what else could he say?

He should have been scared—terrified, even. But instead, he found himself lingering on every detail: the way Red Hood’s chest rose and fell, the glint of his weapons, the sense of barely restrained danger that rolled off him in waves. And underneath all of that, a strange, quiet thrill that he didn’t quite understand.

Satisfied, Red Hood gave him one last look before he started to turn away, blending back into the shadows. But in a flash of impulsiveness, Y/N called out, “Wait!”

Red Hood stopped, glancing over his shoulder, clearly not used to random civilians asking for an encore. Y/N hesitated, realizing how ridiculous he must have sounded, but the words were already out there, so he figured he might as well keep going.

“Uh… thanks. For, you know, saving me. And also for the life advice,” he added, his voice dripping with awkward humor.

There was a pause—a long, silent pause where Y/N briefly wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake. But then, to his surprise, he thought he saw the faintest tilt of amusement in the way Red Hood shifted his stance. Was that… a chuckle? No, probably not. But he’d like to think so.

Red Hood nodded—a subtle acknowledgment—before disappearing into the night, leaving Y/N alone in the alley with nothing but his scattered belongings and a heart that felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest. As he knelt down to gather his things, he couldn’t help but survey the carnage of his soggy notebooks and papers, along with his now-broken laptop and tangled, half-shattered headphones.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he picked up a notebook that was more mush than paper. “Well, this is fine,” he muttered, trying to keep his spirits up. “Just a little water damage. Adds character, right?”

Then he spotted his laptop, the screen shattered and a piece of it barely hanging on by a hinge. He laughed, a bitter chuckle that held more disbelief than humor. “Guess it’s one way to force an upgrade,” he murmured, stuffing it back in his backpack like a defeated soldier gathering his gear after a lost battle.

And the headphones? Well, they’d been cheap anyway, held together by more wishful thinking than actual quality. “You were too good for this world,” he whispered dramatically, dropping them into the bag with a resigned sigh.

Despite the state of his belongings, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just survived something surreal, something that would haunt his dreams and maybe even—dare he say it?—excite him a little.

Unbeknownst to him, from the shadows a few blocks away, Jason eyed him from his hiding spot, a curiosity nagging at him, as if he’d found something worth watching over. He could see Y/N still crouched on the grimy ground, gathering his belongings—soggy notebooks, torn papers, a laptop with a shattered screen. He’d felt a pang of guilt as he watched, a flicker of sympathy mingling with a less-than-pleasant feeling of familiarity knowing all too well what it was like to lose the few things you relied on—to feel like the world had kicked you when you were down.

And while he’d never admit it, maybe a part of him liked that the kid seemed more amused than scared. After all, it wasn’t every day that someone didn’t scream when they saw Red Hood.

Of course, now that they were dating, Y/N was not surprised by the vigilante’s actions after their encounter when he’d come out of his apartment a week later to find a large box sitting on his doorstep with a plain label reading simply, “For You.” 

Inside was an assortment of brand-new school supplies including pristine notebooks in varying colors, a handful of smooth, high-quality pens and highlighters, and even a sleek, expensive laptop that he definitely could not afford on a student budget. Nestled beside it was a pair of high-quality Bluetooth headphones—the kind he’d ogled online but never dreamed of buying. And to top it all off, there was a sturdy, stylish bag to carry everything in.

And while most other people would’ve been slightly concerned at the fact that a random vigilante just happened to know their address after only one meeting where they didn’t even give their name, Y/N on the other hand, was processing the contents of the box with a mix of gratitude, amusement, and a new crush.

And so, their love story began, marked by Jason’s continued (and slightly overprotective) habit of rescuing Y/N from Gotham’s mean streets—even if the college student didn’t always realize he needed saving. Hence the “stalking” mentioned earlier.

Of course, was it technically stalking if it was done out of love and devotion for some random stranger you’d developed a massive crush on but couldn’t quite work up the nerve to talk to directly? Well… yes. Experts would say it’s still stalking. But hey, if those experts ever found themselves in a tight spot, Jason would be conveniently “unavailable” to save them.

Naturally, Y/N couldn’t exactly share the full story of his and Jason’s introduction. For one, his friends would roast him to the ends of the earth for being dumb enough to walk home alone in Gotham at night. He could practically hear their voices now: “Really, Y/N? Alone? At night? In Gotham? Do you not value your own life?” And frankly, he wasn’t about to give them that much material.

Oh, and there was also the tiny detail of Red Hood’s whole secret vigilante identity thing.

So, he went with a slightly edited version of the story, painting Jason as a “helpful stranger” who just happened to show up when Y/N “got lost” and had his bag stolen. And when his friends inevitably asked about the shiny new gear—a nearly $500 bag, top-of-the-line laptop, high-quality headphones, the works—he explained it all as a result of some extra scholarship money and financial aid he’d “saved up.” Sure, splurging on luxury tech and accessories might seem a tad unrealistic, but he’d throw in a line about a “really good sale” and call it a day.

Because as much as Jason’s habit of going overboard with gifts could be a little, well, extra, Y/N wasn’t about to complain. The man was thoughtful in a way few would ever believe, though his affection tended to be wrapped in thick layers of leather, weaponry, and a no-nonsense glare.

Jason loved hard, though he wasn’t quick to show it to just anyone. The guy kept his feelings locked up tighter than a Gotham vault, hardened by a lifetime of broken trust and betrayal. He wasn’t exactly the “wear your heart on your sleeve” type. But every so often, with the right person, he’d crack that tough exterior. And Y/N? Somehow, he’d slipped right through, without even trying.

And okay, could Jason be a little intense? Sure (absolutely). But when a vigilante with a borderline obsessive streak decides he cares about you, well… let’s just say things are bound to get a little out of hand. That’s just the price of having Gotham’s resident anti-hero as your personal guard dog.

Not that Y/N thinks of him quite like that, but it’s kind of funny, considering Jason really does act like a lovesick puppy when it’s just the two of them, his tough exterior melting away—it gave the energy of a Golden Retriever, maybe, or a Siberian Husky with an attitude problem. But the moment anyone else entered the room, his whole vibe transformed. If Y/N was his safe haven, the rest of the world was an enemy camp. He’d switch from doting boyfriend to a blend of German Shepherd, Rottweiler, and Doberman with the attitude and aggressiveness of a Chihuahua on an espresso shot. It was a little terrifying for others but to Y/N? It was just… Jason.

Part of what made their dynamic so unique was how Jason let himself be vulnerable around Y/N, something few people ever got to see. Y/N was his safe space, the person he could trust to see the parts of him he usually kept hidden—the softness, the care, the insecurities he guarded as fiercely as he guarded Gotham’s streets.

Funny enough, Y/N quickly discovered just a few months into dating that Jason’s love language was, without a doubt, physical touch. Why was that funny—and possibly the most ironic thing he’d ever experienced? Because when they first started dating, Jason avoided touch like it was the plague.

It took Y/N a while to notice it, but once he did, it was painfully obvious. Jason had this way of keeping just enough distance, as if he’d drawn a line no one was allowed to cross. At first, Y/N thought it was just Jason’s natural intensity, but over time, he began to see the pattern. Jason was hyper-aware of any physical contact—quick to dodge, tense when someone brushed against him accidentally, even flinching at touches he saw coming. It was like he’d trained himself to see any sort of physical contact as a potential threat.

And it made sense, really, considering Jason’s past and the double life he led—something Y/N only found out about a few months after they started dating. Jason’s body told a story all on its own, each scar and faded bruise marking a chapter of battles fought and enemies conquered. The scars weren’t just skin-deep; they were reminders of a life filled with danger, betrayal, and loss. And Y/N began to understand why Jason had always kept his distance, why he seemed wary of even the gentlest touch. To Jason, vulnerability had always come with a price.

Also, talking about his family was a rare event, and when he did, there was a hesitance, a guarded tone. Y/N knew bits and pieces—enough to understand that while Jason loved his family, there were wounds there too, emotional scars that ran just as deep as the ones on his body. He avoided talking about them, save for the occasional mention of Alfred, the family’s butler. Alfred was the exception, the one person Jason spoke of with nothing but respect and a rare softness. In time, Y/N came to love and appreciate Alfred just as much, seeing how deeply he’d cared for Jason when others hadn’t.

But even with Alfred, Jason’s life had taught him that letting people in, letting people close, meant risking pain. So he’d built walls, high and impenetrable, where touch was a luxury and distance was safety. Yet again, somehow, Y/N had slipped through those walls. Slowly, patiently, he’d helped Jason find comfort in a gentle touch, a warm embrace, and the knowledge that here, with him, there was no danger. Just love.

At first, it was subtle—the occasional shoulder touch, the brief brush of his hand, like Jason was testing the waters. But as he grew more comfortable, his affection started to show in quiet, gentle ways: a hand resting at the small of Y/N’s back, an arm draped protectively around his shoulders, or the way he’d pull Y/N close, as if his presence alone could shield him from the world. Sure, his protectiveness sometimes bordered on overbearing, but Y/N didn’t mind one bit. He’d come to cherish those moments, knowing that each touch, each fierce little act of devotion, was Jason’s own way of saying, I love you.

And before Y/N even realized it, Jason had practically become his shadow, glued to his side like some overly affectionate—albeit slightly brooding—puppy. It was like a switch had flipped, and suddenly, Jason couldn’t go a full five minutes without reaching out to touch him, craving the comfort and reassurance of Y/N’s presence. Jason was always there, one way or another: a hand resting on his neck, fingers tracing along his arm, a warm weight on his thigh, or just… hovering in his orbit like a bodyguard who happened to look at him like he was the best thing in Gotham.

Rarely did a moment pass when they weren’t connected in some physical way. More often than not, Jason would find any excuse to pull Y/N into a full-on cuddle, whether they were on the couch or in bed, as if he was storing up warmth like a battery. And his favorite spot? Laying his head on Y/N’s chest, listening to his heartbeat with his eyes closed, completely at peace as Y/N’s hands ran gently through his hair. For Jason, it was the ultimate comfort, a reminder that he was loved and safe—a rare feeling in his life.

It was endearing, really. Jason might’ve been Gotham’s big bad vigilante, but to Y/N, he was a full-grown man with the energy of a giant, needy puppy, demanding his attention with that silent, intense stare of his. And honestly? Y/N wouldn’t have it any other way.

Of course, Y/N would be lying if he said he didn’t get a kick out of the way Jason would pout and glare at him whenever he stopped rubbing his head or, heaven forbid, dared to refuse his touch. Imagine this six-foot-plus tower of muscle—a guy who could make dudes on steroids look like scrawny sidekicks—staring down his boyfriend with an actual pout because he wasn’t getting his cuddle fix. It was a sight that never failed to make Y/N laugh (not that he’d do it out loud; he valued his life, after all).

Jason could—and would—throw his ire at just about anyone else, often for the smallest of reasons. Anyone not named Y/N was fair game for his mood swings, his infamous scowl, and even the occasional growl. But with Y/N? Well, let’s just say he was spared from the wrath of Gotham’s most intimidating vigilante… unless he denied Jason cuddles or the sacred privilege of his bodily embrace. That, apparently, was the one line Y/N couldn’t cross.

The “punishment” usually lasted, at most, ten minutes. Jason would start by sulking, grumbling under his breath like a child denied dessert, and shooting Y/N the kind of glare usually reserved for Gotham’s worst criminals. Y/N, of course, would hold out as long as he could, but eventually, one of two things would happen. Either he’d cave, sighing as he finally opened his arms to let Jason claim his cuddle rights, listening as Jason mumbled dramatically about how he “should never be denied cuddles” because it was his god-given right, or—if Y/N took too long—Jason would take matters into his own hands.

And by that, it meant Jason would simply scoop him up, plop himself down, and drape his entire, solid weight on top of Y/N like some overgrown cat claiming it's human. There was no escape—Jason’s big arms wrapped around him like an anaconda, pulling him close until Y/N was completely enveloped, pinned down with zero chance of getting away.

Y/N didn’t mind, though. Quite the opposite, actually—it was hot. Sue him.

"Y/N, don’t take this the wrong way but… is your man single?” one of his coworkers asked, giving him a sly grin.

OOP—

GIRL. For your own sake—and for the sake of anyone within a mile radius—tread carefully. That man is as jealous and territorial as his possessive ass vigilante boyfriend, who’s on a level that’s practically legendary. No, seriously; Jason’s jealousy was on a scale that was insane.

Case in point: family game night. Tim had everyone playing this game where you had to come up with a word for each category starting with a randomly chosen letter. Simple enough, right? Well, when “J” was the letter of the round, let’s just say Y/N’s answers weren’t exactly… satisfying to a certain overprotective vigilante.

“Y/N,” Jason hissed, narrowing his eyes, “you’ve got two seconds to explain to me who the hell Jackson is.”

“I had to think of something!” Y/N replied, holding up his hands defensively.

Jason crossed his arms, staring him down. “And what does my name start with, hmm?”

“I—okay, listen, I panicked! I was thinking about Percy Jackson!”

Jason didn’t see it as jealousy—he was just protective, okay? But if his definition of protective happened to mean glaring down anyone who so much as glanced at Y/N, then so be it.

Y/N on the other hand…

Funny enough, Jason actually started complaining because every time he and Y/N went out together, people would give him looks, like they thought Y/N was in mortal danger. And okay, Jason got it—he wasn’t exactly small, or subtle. With his build, his perpetual scowl, and the way he seemed ready to throw down at any given moment, he could understand slightly why people would think the way they’d think. Shit, he’d do the same. But still.

When it got to the point of the cops getting called because the neighbors heard loud noises, grunts, and what they thought were sounds of pain and struggle after seeing a large and intimidating man drag Y/N into his apartment—when, in reality, they were just doing the dirty tango against the kitchen wall—it gets a bit annoying.

But that wasn’t even the real issue Jason had been complaining about. No, what had actually gotten under his skin was how everyone always assumed he was the threat, when in reality, it was Y/N they should’ve been worried about. People just didn’t see it, but Y/N had a dangerous side all his own. Just ask the kid who was dumb enough to try and pull a fast one on Jason by touching and caressing him in public when Y/N had stepped away for a moment.

The moment the college student came back… well, let’s just say things got ugly. Legally, however, Jason couldn’t speak about it. Not because he didn’t want to—oh, he’d love to relive the whole glorious scene—but because Y/N had made him, and his brothers, sign an NDA afterward. Yep, Dick, Tim, Damian, and Jason had to put pen to paper, bound to secrecy about The Incident.

Y/N had handled it with a level of ruthless efficiency that left the whole Bat family in awe. He’d dealt with that poor, clueless kid in a way that was so subtly devastating that even Bruce raised an eyebrow when he found out. Although, truth be told, Bruce wasn’t exactly shocked; he just hadn’t expected someone as sweet as Y/N to be quite so… resourceful.

After that, the whole family understood that, sure, Jason might look like the scary one—but when it came to those he loved, especially when it involved Jason, Y/N was a force to be reckoned with.

Y/N glanced back at his coworker with a slightly distant look before letting out a laugh, shaking his head. “Girl, don’t play.”

Girl—seriously, don’t do it.

Thankfully, she chose common sense and life at that moment, laughing along with him. “You know I’m just kidding! But seriously, where did you find him? The things I’d do just to get a man who looks at me with even half the love as he does with you.”

It was in Y/N’s honest opinion that Jason had to be an angel or some divine gift sent to him from the heavens above. Or God, the Universe, Santa Claus, took mercy on him knowing that kind of unserious trouble he could get himself into. Seriously, it was like his life was written by some dude who strove to put him in the most unthinkable scenarios ever thought of by man.

…

Hold up.

…

Nah…unless?

“But seriously, where do you even find a man like that? ‘Cause the ones out here? Girl, they’re giving ‘bare minimum’ and vibes. God really needs to start restocking the good ones.”

“Where did I find him?” Y/N repeated, smirking as he wiped down the counter. “I don’t know. One day he just showed up, brooding and scary-looking, and now he refuses to leave.”

His coworker rolled her eyes, leaning closer like she was trying to decode some deep secret. “You’re dodging the question. Men like that don’t just show up. Spill the tea.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly? If I told you the real story, you wouldn’t believe me.”

And wasn’t that the truth? If he started explaining how Gotham’s most terrifying vigilante had saved him from a mugging, delivered new school supplies like some twisted fairy godmother, and then proceeded to burrow into his life like an oversized, territorial puppy, she’d probably think he was delusional. Or worse, that he was into some bizarre fanfiction-level nonsense. Which, fair.

Before Y/N could add anything else, his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen and couldn’t stop the small smile that crept across his face.

Jason: Did you eat yet?

Y/N sighed, typing back a quick Yes, Dad, even though it was a blatant lie. He didn’t need Jason going full hover-boyfriend just because he skipped breakfast.

Fifteen minutes later, though, Jason strolled into the shop like he owned the place, a brown paper bag in hand. Y/N barely had time to react before Jason plopped the bag on the counter, his expression hovering between annoyed and smug.

“Didn’t I just tell you I ate?” Y/N asked, arching an eyebrow.

Jason crossed his arms, his biceps straining his jacket in a way that made his coworker openly gape. “And I didn’t believe you. So here.” He gestured at the bag like it was some great offering, clearly unbothered by the audience they had. “You’re not skipping meals.”

Y/N sighed, opening the bag to find his favorite sandwich neatly packed alongside a container of fruit and—of course—a bottle of water. His coworker, meanwhile, was staring like she was witnessing a rom-com play out in real life.

“You know,” she whispered as Jason stepped back to lean casually against the counter, his watchful gaze flicking between Y/N and the shop’s door, “if you don’t marry this man, I will.”

Y/N snorted, shoving a grape in his mouth. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

In all honesty, Y/N knew the kind of love Jason offered wasn’t for the faint of heart. As previously mentioned, when that man loved, he loved hard—like all-in, no-holds-barred, borderline territorial levels of hard. And he wasn’t just protective—oh no, he was possessive with a capital P when it came to the things he cared about.

What did that mean?

Well...

Considering the kind of life Jason had lived—where the things he loved or that brought him joy were often ripped away in the most brutal, gut-wrenching ways imaginable—it wasn’t exactly a shocker. Jason had become fiercely devoted to guarding what was his, with a vigilance that often toed the line between endearing and slightly terrifying.

It was like an aggressive dog who decided one day that a random shoe was its favorite thing in the world. The kind of resource-guarding where even looking at the shoe too long earned you a deep, guttural growl of warning. Ignore the warning? Well, congratulations, you just donated a finger—or maybe two—to the cause.

If it’s not clear by now, Y/N was the shoe, and Jason was the dog. And when it came to Y/N, anything—or anyone—that so much as hinted at upsetting him, threatening him, or even mildly inconveniencing him would quickly find themselves on the wrong end of Jason’s wrath. It wasn’t a matter of if there’d be hell to pay, but how much. Spoiler: it was always a lot.

So, picture this: Y/N comes home after a long day of morning classes and an equally draining evening shift. On the surface, he looks fine. Totally normal. But what no one knows is that he spent the last twenty minutes sitting in his car, quietly sobbing into a handful of fast-food napkins.

He knew better than to bring those emotions into the apartment, though. Because while most boyfriends would give you a hug and let you vent, Jason would go full vigilante mode. If he even sensed that someone had made Y/N upset, it wouldn’t just be hell to pay—it’d be Gotham-wide carnage. And Y/N, being the thoughtful boyfriend he was, liked to minimize unnecessary casualties.

Armed with tissues, eyedrops, and a firm I’m fine, just tired mantra, Y/N stepped through the door, hoping to slide under Jason’s radar.

Nope. Not happening.

The moment Jason saw him, his expression shifted. Y/N had no clue what gave him away—was it the puffiness? His voice? The way he stood?—but Jason immediately clocked something.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asked, his voice calm, but laced with that dangerous edge that said he was already running through a mental list of suspects who might need a "visit."

Y/N froze, debating his options. He knew better than to lie. Jason would sniff it out in seconds. But he also knew that the moment he opened his mouth, Jason wouldn’t rest until he figured out who—or what—was responsible.

And honestly? That was the kind of energy Y/N both feared and loved about him.

“I just had a stressful day at work, Jason. I’ll be fine,” Y/N said, sidestepping as he tried to make his way past the towering vigilante and towards the bathroom.

But trying to get past Jason when he was in that mode? Easier said than done. It was like trying to walk through a solid brick wall—one that was armed, brooding, and ridiculously muscled. Jason was locked into full protective-boyfriend mode, which meant Y/N wasn’t going anywhere until Jason had the name, address, and probably the social security number of the person who dared to upset him.

Why he needed the social security number? Well, Bruce did teach him to be thorough when handling "cases." And in Jason’s mind, this was no different.

In one smooth move, Jason’s arm shot out, stopping Y/N’s attempt to breeze past him. With two quick steps, Y/N found himself backed against the wall—well, Jason’s chest first, and then the wall behind him. Jason leaned in, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible, his dark, piercing gaze locking onto Y/N’s like a laser. That intense look he gave—the one that said I have no problem keeping you right here until I get answers—made Y/N’s knees weak.

Not that he minded. Let’s be real: Jason’s body, his sheer presence, had always been Y/N’s favorite place to decompress, even if it came with the added pressure of being metaphorically (and sometimes literally) pinned to the hot seat. And honestly? Who could complain about being wrapped up in the arms of a man like Jason. If you wouldn’t feel the same, take your judgment elsewhere.

Jason tilted his head, his voice low and commanding as he leaned in closer. “Talk to me, baby. What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Y/N muttered, looking away, though his traitorous heart betrayed him by picking up speed. He could feel Jason’s gaze on him, heavy and unwavering. “Just a bad day.”

“That’s not nothing,” Jason replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His arm caged Y/N in further, his body so close that Y/N could feel the heat radiating off him. “Bad days don’t make you cry in your car before coming home.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. Damn it. How does he always know?

Jason leaned even closer, his lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he whispered, “I’ll ask again. Who made you cry?”

That commanding tone, combined with Jason’s overwhelming presence, had Y/N’s walls crumbling faster than he’d like to admit. “Jason, it’s nothing you need to get involved in. It’s my boss—he’s just been... making things harder than they need to be,” he said, his voice faltering as he tried to downplay the situation.

Jason’s jaw ticked, and his free hand gently cupped Y/N’s chin, tilting his head back so their eyes met. “Details. Now.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before the frustration, hurt, and exhaustion bubbled over. “He’s cutting my hours—again. And I need those hours, Jason. For rent, for groceries, for school. I’ve tried talking to him, emailing HR, even bringing in a neutral third party, but nothing changes. And today…” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “Today, he reduced my schedule to the point where I’ll barely be able to afford ramen next week. And then he called me into his office to give me some bullshit ‘coaching moment’ that was really just him tearing me down in front of everyone.”

Jason’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as Y/N’s words sank in. “What did he say?” His tone was dangerously calm, the kind of calm that meant bad things were about to happen to someone.

Y/N shook his head, his voice breaking as he tried to get the words out. “I—I don’t want to repeat it. It was nasty, Jason. Just nasty.”

Jason’s grip softened immediately, his hand moving to the back of Y/N’s neck as he pulled him into his chest. “Baby, come here,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. Y/N didn’t resist, letting himself melt into Jason’s arms as the tears he’d been holding back all day finally spilled over.

Jason held him tightly, his strong arms a fortress of safety and comfort as he whispered, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it out.”

They stayed like that for a while, Jason eventually guiding Y/N to the couch so they could sit down. He pulled Y/N into his lap, holding him as if to shield him from the world. Y/N buried his face in Jason’s chest, the warmth and strength of his boyfriend grounding him as Jason’s hand gently stroked his back.

After a while, Y/N’s voice broke the silence. “Promise me you won’t do anything rash, Jason. Please.”

Jason’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. “I promise.”

The next day, Y/N found himself questioning that promise when Jason showed up at his workplace. The vigilante didn’t cause a scene—he didn’t need to. A quiet, private “conversation” with Y/N’s manager in the backroom was all it took. Whatever Jason said, it worked. By the time he left, Y/N’s hours had mysteriously been restored, and his manager couldn’t look him in the eye without stammering.

When Y/N confronted him later, Jason just smirked, pulling him into a kiss. “I didn’t do anything rash,” he said innocently. “I just... clarified some things.”

And honestly? Y/N didn’t even want to know what “clarified” meant.

It was that incident—the one where Jason paid a visit to Y/N’s workplace—when Y/N’s coworkers finally met the infamous boyfriend they’d only ever heard about in passing. Well, passing might’ve been an understatement, considering Y/N used any and every opportunity to talk about his man. At first, the constant mentions of “Jason this” and “Jason that” had been met with teasing eyerolls and mock groans. But after seeing Jason in action, shutting down their tyrant of a manager with one calm but devastating conversation, everyone got it. Completely.

Jason and Y/N quickly became what the group lovingly referred to as the “template” for relationship goals. Y/N didn’t mind the label; he liked that people saw the best parts of their dynamic. What they didn’t see—or couldn’t fully grasp—was the effort and balance behind it all. Jason wasn’t just the tall, brooding vigilante who swooped in to save the day, and Y/N wasn’t just the sweet, supportive boyfriend standing in his shadow. Their relationship was a partnership in every sense of the word, built on mutual protection and care for one another.

It was that incident—the one where Jason paid a visit to Y/N’s workplace—when Y/N’s coworkers finally met the infamous boyfriend they’d only ever heard about in passing. Well, passing might’ve been an understatement, considering Y/N used any and every opportunity to talk about his man. At first, the constant mentions of “Jason this” and “Jason that” had been met with teasing eyerolls and mock groans. But after seeing Jason in action, shutting down their tyrant of a manager with one calm but devastating conversation, everyone got it. Completely.

Jason and Y/N quickly became what the group lovingly referred to as the “template” for relationship goals. Y/N didn’t mind the label; he liked that people saw the best parts of their dynamic. What they didn’t see—or couldn’t fully grasp—was the effort and balance behind it all. Jason wasn’t just the tall, brooding vigilante who swooped in to save the day, and Y/N wasn’t just the sweet, supportive boyfriend standing in his shadow. Their relationship was a partnership in every sense of the word, built on mutual protection and care for one another.

“Y/N, how much is your rent for this place? It’s really nice, and I’m looking for something closer to campus,” his friend asked one day during a study session at his and Jason’s apartment. A few of their classmates had joined, and the group was sprawled out in the living room, surrounded by open textbooks, laptops, and half-empty mugs and cups.

Y/N was about to answer—he really was—but then paused, his face twisting into a look of genuine confusion as he stared off into the distance, like he was searching the recesses of his brain for an answer that just wasn’t there. “Uh… I think $1,100? Maybe? Don’t quote me on that, though. I’m not 100% sure.”

His friends all exchanged baffled looks. “Wait, what do you mean you’re not sure?” one of them asked, narrowing their eyes. “How do you not know your own rent?”

“I do! I just… forgot,” Y/N said with a shrug, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Now they were all staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Y/N, literally what the fuck? How do you just forget how much you pay in rent? Who forgets that?”

“I don’t know, okay? I knew it when I signed the lease, but every time I try to pay it at the beginning of the month, Jason’s already paid it. Sometimes months in advance! And, I don’t know, after a while, it just stopped being something I thought about.” Y/N gestured vaguely, as if this explanation somehow made perfect sense.

That didn’t stop the dumbfounded stares—or the flicker of envy in more than a few pairs of eyes.

“Wait, wait, wait.” One of his friends held up a hand. “So your boyfriend just pays your rent for you every month—without even asking—and you just… let him?”

Y/N snorted, sitting back on the couch. “First of all, rude. It’s not like I just let him. Trust me, if you were in my shoes, you’d understand that trying to stop Jason from taking care of me is like… I don’t know, trying to explain to someone in a MAGA hat what a cult is and that they’re in one. You’re not winning that battle.”

Can the church get an amen?

Y/N wasn’t lying—not even a little—when he said that trying to stop Jason from taking care of him was an exercise in futility. If anyone dared to tell Jason he was “doing too much” for his boyfriend, congratulations, they’d now joined the prestigious ranks of those “experts” Jason would gladly let fend for themselves in a crisis. When it came to Y/N, Jason handled it all: physically, emotionally, financially—you name it, he was on it like white on rice. And no amount of protesting from Y/N could change that.

And oh, did Y/N protest.

“Jason, did you pay my rent again?” Y/N asked, stepping into the apartment with his wallet still in hand and a clearly exasperated look on his face. He’d just come back from the leasing office, only to find out his balance was already cleared with a sex month advance payment. Again.

His frustration hit a slight pause, though, as he spotted Jason lounging shirtless on the couch—pause for an aroused deep breath—engrossed in what appeared to be an intense game of Mario Kart on his Nintendo Switch. A book Jason had been reading earlier was tossed haphazardly to the side, forgotten in the heat of the Rainbow Road battle.

Jason didn’t even glance up as he responded, “Yeah, I did. Why?” His thumbs moved quickly over the buttons, his face set in that annoyingly sexy, hyper-focused expression that made Y/N momentarily forget why he was upset in the first place.

“Why?” Y/N snapped, pulling himself out of that temporary daze. “Because I told you not to! That’s why!” He stormed over, planting himself squarely in front of the couch, arms crossed and glare locked on his boyfriend. “Jason, we’ve talked about this. I can handle my own rent.”

Jason sighed, finally pausing his game. He leaned back against the couch with an air of deliberate calm, setting the joy-con controllers aside. “I know you can,” he said, his voice smooth and measured in a way that made Y/N’s resolve falter. Jason’s eyes flicked up to meet his, dark and steady, pinning Y/N in place. “But here’s the thing, babe—you don’t have to.”

“That’s not the point,” Y/N shot back, his voice wavering slightly as Jason stretched lazily, his arms going behind his head in a way that made the muscles in his chest and shoulders flex. Unfair. He was doing this on purpose.

“Isn’t it, though?” Jason’s lips curved into a slow, smug smirk. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and Y/N’s breath hitched as the intensity of his gaze locked onto him. “Taking care of you isn’t optional for me. It’s my job. Whether it’s paying the rent, making sure you eat, or keeping your gorgeous ass out of trouble, that’s mine to handle.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned as he tried to maintain his glare, but it was a losing battle. “Jason,” he said firmly, though the quiver in his voice betrayed him, “you can’t just decide these things without asking me.”

Jason tilted his head, studying him in a way that felt equal parts tender and possessive. “Sure I can,” he said smoothly, reaching out to hook his fingers lightly around Y/N’s wrist, tugging him forward until he was standing between Jason’s knees. “You can handle yourself—I know that. But you don’t need to. Not when I’m here.”

Y/N opened his mouth to protest, but Jason tugged him down into his lap, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him close. His free hand slid to the back of Y/N’s neck, his thumb brushing against the skin there in a way that made Y/N’s heart race.

“Tell me,” Jason murmured, his voice low and commanding, “why should I let you stress over something I can fix? Hmm?”

Y/N bit his lip, trying to muster the strength to argue, but Jason’s tone, his touch, the sheer weight of his presence—it all left him scrambling for words. He hated how easily Jason could reduce him to this flustered mess, and he really hated how much he secretly loved it.

“You’re impossible,” he finally muttered, dropping his head against Jason’s shoulder, his voice soft and defeated.

“And you love me for it,” Jason murmured against his ear, his smirk practically audible.

Y/N groaned but didn’t pull away, his fingers curling against Jason’s chest. “This conversation isn’t over,” he mumbled, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Sure, babe. Whatever you say,” Jason replied, leaning back with Y/N still in his lap, his grip firm and unyielding. He reached for his Switch with his free hand, resuming his game like he hadn’t just completely derailed the argument and walked away victorious.

And as much as Y/N wanted to be mad, he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. Damn it. He really did love him for it. The student didn’t need to say how much he appreciated the weight of Jason’s steady presence; Jason didn’t need to hear it to know. And while Y/N would keep fighting to hold his own ground, there was a part of him—an unspoken, undeniable part—that found comfort in letting Jason hold the world at bay for him.

Their domestic life was a careful dance of their unspoken dynamic, with Jason ensuring their world was secure and steady, while Y/N kept their home—and Jason—centered and whole. Their roles played out naturally, shaped by who they were as individuals. Jason made sure the outside world couldn’t touch Y/N, taking care of the big things, the dangerous things that he’d never let his boyfriend come within a mile of. His presence was a shield, and his devotion ran so deep that sometimes it felt like he’d lay the world at Y/N’s feet if it meant seeing him happy.

Y/N swears there was one time he cracked a joke about wanting to live out his “soft boi” aesthetic—because, obviously, the ‘i’ made it edgier—and Jason, without missing a beat, ran with it without ever looking back.

But Y/N? He was the one who kept their world turning smoothly, the quiet, grounding presence that made sure Jason had a place to fall apart when life became too much. Whether it was stocking the kitchen with Jason’s favorite snacks or simply sitting with him on the couch after a rough patrol, Y/N created the kind of space Jason didn’t even realize he needed—safe, steady, and entirely his.

That balance extended to the little things too. Jason liked to cook when he had the time, his meals always hearty, protein-packed “fuel” designed to keep them going. Y/N, on the other hand, was the one who brought warmth to the table, sneaking in something sweet or comforting—even if it meant slipping vegetables into Jason’s plate, much to his dramatic protests.

“Because it’s pesto,” Y/N replied innocently, grinning as he leaned against the counter. “Don’t act like you’re too good for spinach.”

Jason grumbled something under his breath—something about how spinach was a lie—but ate every bite, proving once again that Y/N knew exactly how to play him.

And then there were the quieter moments—the ones that reminded them both why they worked so well together. Nights spent curled up on the couch, Jason sprawled out with his head resting in Y/N’s lap, his fingers absently tracing patterns along Y/N’s thigh. Y/N would run his fingers through Jason’s hair, the simple, soothing gesture melting away the tension that Jason carried like a second skin. Sometimes they’d talk—about Jason’s patrols, Y/N’s classes, or random nonsense that didn’t matter. Other times, they simply existed together, the quiet hum of their apartment a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the world outside.

But even Y/N, the softer half of their partnership, had his limits when it came to anyone crossing a line with Jason. Like the time a journalist ambushed Jason at a charity event, spouting thinly veiled accusations about his past. Jason had been moments away from snapping, his fists clenching at his sides, when Y/N calmly stepped in.

“If you don’t have something constructive to say,” Y/N said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “then I suggest you find someone else to bother.”

The journalist, thrown off by Y/N’s tone—gentle but edged like a blade—backed off almost immediately. Jason hadn’t said a word about it afterward, but later that night, when they were home, he’d kissed Y/N’s temple and murmured a quiet, “Thank you.”

Y/N was never afraid to step in for Jason when he needed him to, even if Jason wouldn’t—or couldn’t—outwardly ask for it. And the fact that Jason didn’t have to ask made it all the more meaningful for the vigilante. Y/N always seemed to know when to intervene, especially in moments when Jason couldn’t advocate for himself—particularly when it came to Bruce.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Jason had come home late that night, his steps heavy, his shoulders slumped in a way that told Y/N everything he needed to know before Jason even said a word. Gotham’s chaos could wear Jason down, but this kind of defeated air? That was Bruce’s handiwork.

Y/N didn’t push right away. He let Jason slip into the apartment, kick off his boots, and collapse onto the couch without a word. Jason sat there, his hands hanging limply between his knees, staring blankly at the floor like he was stuck in some internal tug-of-war. Y/N sat beside him, his hand lightly brushing Jason’s shoulder before resting on his thigh—a grounding touch.

“What happened?” Y/N asked softly.

Jason’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. “It’s Bruce,” he said after a long pause, his voice raw. “We were handling this case—a trafficking ring. I had it handled, Y/N. I had it. But he pulled the plug on the whole thing because it didn’t fit his goddamn code.” His fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. “There were kids involved, and he still chose the ‘moral high ground’ over what needed to be done. And then—” Jason’s voice broke, and he shook his head, his frustration giving way to something more fragile. “He looked at me like I was the problem. Like I was… too much again. Like I’m always too much.”

Y/N’s heart clenched as he took in the words, the quiet ache that laced Jason’s tone. It wasn’t just the case or Bruce’s stubbornness that hurt him—it was the way Bruce always seemed to find a way to make Jason feel like he’d never be enough, no matter what he did.

Y/N leaned in, his hand sliding up to the back of Jason’s neck, fingers gently massaging the tension there. “You’re not too much, Jay,” he murmured, his voice steady. “Not for me. Not for anyone who actually knows you.”

Jason didn’t respond, but the way he leaned into Y/N’s touch, his head bowing slightly, said more than words ever could.

An hour later, when a knock came at the door, Y/N didn’t need to guess who it was. He stood, sighing as Jason stayed where he was on the couch, visibly tensing at the sound. Y/N opened the door to find Bruce standing there, in some more casual wear (if you could ever call Bruce’s “old money” aesthetic casual), his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Y/N,” Bruce greeted, his tone clipped. “I need to speak with Jason.”

Y/N didn’t move, his hand braced casually against the doorframe. “No, you don’t.”

Bruce blinked, clearly unused to being told no—and even less accustomed to hearing it so decisively. “It’s important.”

“Is someone dead or currently dying?”

The blunt, and sarcastic tone of his words, while it didn’t visually throw the billionaire off, Y/N could see Bruce was surprised by his tone. He didn’t know how, but he clocked the shift in his demeanor. Maybe he was picking up some skills from his boyfriend after all.

“No, but–”

“Then, it can wait,” Y/N said, his tone edge with a finality that left no room for question or pushback.  “He just came home, and I don’t think he needs you piling on more stress right now. Whatever you’ve got to say can wait.”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line. “This isn’t about stress. It’s about his actions tonight. He—”

“—did what he thought was right,” Y/N interrupted, his voice sharpening just slightly. “And from what he told me, he was right. You’re the one who undermined him and made him feel like he was a problem.”

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N stepped out into the hallway, lowering his voice but not his resolve. “Look, Mr. Wayne, I get that you care about him in your own… specific way. But if you want to keep him in your life, maybe stop treating him like he’s the black sheep who’ll never measure up to your perfect little code. Because right now? You’re the only one who can make him feel like this, and that’s not the kind of impact someone who ‘cares’ should have.”

Bruce’s face didn’t betray much, but Y/N caught the faint flicker of something—guilt, maybe—in his eyes. Still, he didn’t budge. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“No,” Y/N said calmly, stepping back into the apartment and beginning to close the door. “But it is for tonight. Goodnight, Mr. Wayne.”

With that, he shut the door, turning back to see Jason watching him from the couch, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief.

“Did you really just tell Bruce Wayne to go home?” Jason asked, his lips twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to smirk or shake his head.

“Damn right I did,” Y/N replied, crossing his arms with a small, satisfied huff. “And I’d do it again.”

Jason let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing through his hair as he leaned back against the couch. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?”

“Please,” Y/N shot back with a roll of his eyes. “You act like it’s a big deal. Someone had to say it, and we both know you weren’t going to.” He paused, watching Jason closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And speaking of things you aren’t doing…”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his interest visibly piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”

Y/N leaned forward, tapping Jason’s knee with mock seriousness. “First, you’re going to get off this couch, because moping is not a good look for you. Then, you’re going to help me put away the laundry because I’ve been doing it all day while you were out being Mr. Broody Vigilante. And after that? You’re going to make us both something to eat, because I’m starving and I’m not lifting a finger tonight. You’ve got work to do, big guy.”

Jason blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before his expression shifted into something darker, sharper. He cocked his head, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, really?” he drawled, his tone low and deliberate as he sat up straighter. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Y/N’s pulse quickened, but he held his ground, leveling Jason with his best faux-bossy glare. “That’s exactly how it’s gonna be. So, get moving, Todd.”

Jason was on his feet before Y/N could blink, towering over him with that quiet, commanding energy that always sent a thrill down his spine. He didn’t say a word at first, just leaned down slightly, his eyes locked on Y/N’s like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You think you’re in charge now?” Jason asked softly, his voice deceptively calm. His hand brushed against Y/N’s jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of his cheek with deliberate slowness. “That’s cute.”

Y/N swallowed hard, refusing to back down even as Jason’s presence enveloped him. “Not cute,” he retorted, his voice wavering just slightly. “Efficient.”

Jason’s smirk widened, and in one swift motion, he scooped Y/N up from the couch, earning a startled yelp that quickly turned into laughter. “Efficient, huh?” Jason murmured, his lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he carried him toward the bedroom. “Let’s see how efficient you are at following orders, then. Because we both know who calls the shots here, don’t we?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, his breath hitching as Jason pinned him with that intense, unrelenting gaze. “Jason…” he started, but his boyfriend was already laying him down on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore.

“You wanted me to focus on something else,” Jason murmured, leaning over him, his hands braced on either side of Y/N’s head. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You’ve got my full attention now.”

And just like that, Y/N’s carefully constructed plan to distract Jason had backfired spectacularly—not that he was complaining. If there was one thing Jason was good at, it was reminding him exactly who was in charge.

“Alright, Y/N. Truth or Dare,” his best friend asked, a mischievous glint in his eye as the group sat around in a circle during their weekly de-stresser game night. Of course, their version of game night had taken a more explicit turn—totally par for the course with this group.

“Um… truth,” Y/N said hesitantly, already sensing trouble.

“Oh, perfect,” Seth said, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. “Alright, Mr. L/N, the time has come for you to reveal your truth. Are you a bossy power bottom or a slutty, submissive one?”

The room erupted into a mix of laughter and gasps, with a couple of dramatic “oh my God” reactions thrown in for good measure. Y/N’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to form words. Before he could even start to defend himself, someone else chimed in.

“Bro, seriously? What kind of question is that?”

Y/N immediately felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you—finally, someone gets it—”

But then came the follow-up.

“We all know there’s not a dominant bone in his body. If anything, it’s giving brat who likes to be put in his place.”

The room fell silent for half a beat before laughter exploded all around him, punctuated by a few dramatic “damn”s and someone nearly choking on their drink.

Y/N blinked, his brain short-circuiting as the betrayal sank in. “Excuse me?!” he finally managed, his voice high-pitched and offended as he pointed an accusing finger at the culprit.

“I dare you to try and tell me I’m lying,” His friend challenged him with a raised eyebrow. And when Y/N couldn’t formulate a defense for himself, his friend nodded his head knowingly, “Exactly as I thought.”

Because was he actually lying?

“I dare you to tell me I’m wrong,” his friend challenged, one eyebrow arched and a smug smirk tugging at their lips.

Y/N opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out—just the faintest stutter of indignation as his brain scrambled for a defense that simply didn’t exist.

His friend nodded knowingly, leaning back with a triumphant grin. “Exactly what I thought.”

Because, honestly… were they even wrong?

Frankly, if you looked at their relationship as a whole, was it really that surprising?

Jason, in a nutshell, was all rough edges and a protective streak that could rival Fort Knox, but with a kind of intimacy that Y/N never saw coming. It was whiplash in the best way possible. One minute, he was Gotham’s most intimidating vigilante, and the next, he was softly murmuring sweet nothings while holding Y/N like he was the most fragile, precious thing on the planet. Y/N had once joked that Jason was like a human light switch—rough and dominant one moment, soft and needy the next. Now? It was just something he accepted… and secretly loved.

Because the roughness Jason brought into their bed was never just about dominance—it was about claiming. There were nights when Jason would grip Y/N’s hips like he was staking his territory, growling low in his ear as he worked Y/N’s body to the point of trembling. If Jason was feeling particularly territorial—or, as Y/N liked to put it, “possessive alpha wolf mode”—restraints were almost a guarantee. Y/N would be left tied up, squirming and gasping as Jason moved with a kind of intensity that left no room for doubt about who was in control.

And then, like clockwork, came the switch.

Imagine this: a six-foot-something mass of pure muscle and testosterone, who’d just spent the last hour absolutely wrecking Y/N—legs shaking, throat raw from moans that could probably be heard two apartments over—suddenly curling up beside him like the world’s biggest teddy bear. Jason would go from rough, grunting dominance, a man on a mission to leave Y/N marked and molded for days, to nuzzling into Y/N’s neck with soft kisses and quietly demanding to be held like he was the one who’d been put through the wringer.

It was absurd. Completely and utterly absurd. And Y/N? He let it happen every single time. No wonder Jason was so spoiled in their relationship.

What else was he supposed to do when Jason left him in a post-fuck haze so blissed out he couldn’t even remember what year it was? By the time Jason would return from cleaning him up, soft praise slipping from his lips as he gently wiped Y/N down, the fight had already left him. And honestly? Who was Y/N kidding—he didn’t want to fight it. Not when Jason would tuck him against his broad chest like they hadn’t just committed sins the mattress might never recover from.

But here was the kicker: for all the dominance Jason brought into their dynamic, Y/N knew the man craved the quiet moments afterward just as much—if not more. Those moments when Y/N’s hands would slide up into Jason’s hair, gently massaging his scalp, or trace over the faded scars on his chest like they were the most fascinating pieces of art. Jason wouldn’t say much—he didn’t need to. The way he sighed into Y/N’s touch, letting himself completely relax, said everything.

It was a ridiculous dance of give and take: Jason would obliterate Y/N’s body with enough intensity to leave him rethinking all his life choices, only to turn into the world’s biggest cuddle bug immediately after, soaking up every ounce of affection Y/N could give him. And as much as Y/N liked to complain about the whiplash, the truth was that he wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

Because as much as Jason loved being the one in control, Y/N had him wrapped around his finger the moment his fingers slid into Jason’s hair, soothing away the world like only he could. It was a balance only they understood, and it worked in ways no one else could ever pull off.

But it wasn’t just in the bedroom where Jason’s attention shined. Y/N would often catch Jason’s gaze lingering at the most random moments, his blue-green eyes shamelessly raking over him like he was a five-course meal and Jason hadn’t eaten in weeks. Whether it was Y/N lounging around in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, running errands in shorts that rode up just a little too high, or even bundled up in the most unflattering hoodie he owned, Jason’s carnal desire never wavered. If anything, it intensified as their relationship deepened.

Jason didn’t even bother hiding it anymore. Y/N had long stopped being surprised by the firm smack on his ass whenever Jason walked by, followed by the satisfied grin his boyfriend would flash as if to say, Mine.

“Jason!” Y/N would shriek every time, a startled jump or yelp accompanying his protests. But the man never looked the least bit guilty. If anything, he’d double down, grabbing a handful and muttering something along the lines of, “Couldn’t help it,” or, “You’re teasing me.”

The truth? Jason had rules—categories, if you will—when it came to Y/N’s wardrobe. There were outfits Y/N could wear in public, outfits strictly for lounging at home, and then there were the "home only" outfits. And no, "home only" didn’t mean cute loungewear. It was a polite way of saying, for Jason’s eyes only.

“Babe, you’re not wearing that outside,” Jason had said once, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway as Y/N attempted to leave for the gym.

“It’s just a pair of shorts!” Y/N protested, gesturing down at the admittedly form-fitting gym wear that showcased his thighs just a little too well.

“Exactly,” Jason replied, his eyes narrowing. “Those are home shorts. You’re not walking into a gym full of thirsty people in that.”

“Jason, you’re being ridiculous,” Y/N huffed, crossing his arms.

“Maybe,” Jason said with a shrug, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Y/N’s waist. He leaned in, lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he added in a low voice, “But that doesn’t change anything, now go change..”

And that was that. Jason had an uncanny ability to make his tone very rigid and unyielding, leaving no room for argument which would have Y/N’s protests dying on his lips every time.

Then, there were the outfits Y/N didn’t even get to leave the house in—because they didn’t survive Jason. It had become a running joke between them, the sheer number of shirts, pants, and underwear Jason had destroyed in fits of possessive frustration. If something hugged Y/N’s figure a little too well, Jason didn’t bother holding back. Many an innocent shirt had been ripped clean down the middle, casualties of Jason giving in to his urges.

“Do you have any idea how much you cost me in clothes?” Y/N had grumbled once as Jason stood over him, shirtless and smirking like the devil himself.

Jason had only shrugged, pulling Y/N into his lap. “Then stop wearing stuff that teases me,” he murmured, his lips trailing along Y/N’s neck. “Or don’t. Gives me an excuse to buy you more.”

And buy he did. But let’s be real—certain clothes never lasted long in their relationship. Case in point? The time Y/N ordered a pair of shorts he’d been eyeing for weeks, fully aware that Jason would raise an eyebrow so high it’d disappear into his hairline. Still, in a moment of fuck it impulse, Y/N clicked "add to cart," setting the stage for the chaos to follow.

When the package arrived, Y/N pushed the door open with a huff, struggling to balance the various bags and boxes in his arms as he shuffled into the apartment. “Jason, can you help me?” he called, his voice slightly muffled as he tried not to drop anything.

Jason, sprawled on the couch and scrolling through his phone, glanced up. His eyebrows rose at the sight of his boyfriend buried beneath a mountain of shopping bags. “More clothes?” he asked, standing up and strolling over with a teasing smirk.

“Yes, more clothes,” Y/N shot back, setting his haul down on the kitchen counter. “You know, since someone has a habit of destroying half my wardrobe.”

Jason shrugged, entirely unbothered. “What can I say? Some of them deserved it.”

Rolling his eyes, Y/N began unpacking his bags, pulling out folded shirts, joggers, and a few items that were more… adventurous. As Jason retreated back to the couch, Y/N grabbed one of his new purchases and headed to the bathroom to try it on.

A few minutes later, Y/N emerged, ready to test the waters. He stepped into the living room, his expression smug as he strolled in wearing a pair of black shorts that barely qualified as clothing. The sheer mesh fabric, paired with slits running up the sides, left little—if anything—to the imagination.

Jason glanced up, and his relaxed posture evaporated. His gaze sharpened, his smirk vanishing as his eyes darkened with a possessive glint. “Those,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “are not leaving this apartment.”

Y/N paused, glancing at Jason’s expression before looking down to examine the shorts. “What? These? Oh, come on, they’re gym shorts,” he said, smoothing the fabric over his thighs. “I can’t wait to test them out during leg day.”

Jason’s jaw ticked, his gaze locked on Y/N like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re not wearing those to the gym.”

“Jason, don’t start,” Y/N said, stepping closer to the couch—his first mistake. Paired with the loose, cropped tank he was wearing, the look was downright scandalous. He twirled around playfully, flashing a cheeky grin. “See? They’re nice. Functional.”

Jason didn’t reply. He just sat there, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing as Y/N paraded around, pushing the limits. The tension between them was palpable, thickening with every second that Jason didn’t speak. And when Y/N cocked a hip and teased, “What? Don’t like them?”—that was the final straw.

Jason moved so fast Y/N barely registered it. In one fluid motion, he reached out, grabbing the shorts by one of the side slits and yanking hard. The fabric tore with a sharp rip, leaving Y/N stumbling forward with a gasp.

“Jason!” Y/N yelped, his voice equal parts indignation and shock. But before he could gather himself, Jason leaned back on the couch, effortlessly pulling Y/N into his lap. His hands gripped Y/N’s waist, holding him firmly in place as his legs were spread across Jason’s thighs.

“These,” Jason growled, his hands sliding down to Y/N’s exposed skin, “are home-only shorts. Got it?”

Y/N squirmed, pressing his hands against Jason’s chest in a weak attempt to push away. “Jason, you can’t just—”

Another sharp rip interrupted him as Jason’s rough fingers tore at the other slit, leaving the shorts hanging on by mere threads. Y/N gasped, heat rushing to his face as Jason’s hands roamed possessively, smoothing over his bare thighs with deliberate, firm strokes.

“What did I say?” Jason questioned, his voice a dangerous whisper that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. “These are for my eyes only.”

Y/N’s protests dissolved into breathy whines as Jason’s hands tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. A sharp smack landed on Y/N’s rear, drawing a startled yelp, followed by another that left him gripping Jason’s shoulders for balance.

“Stop squirming,” Jason ordered, his tone firm and commanding as he leaned in, his face inches from Y/N’s. His dark gaze pinned Y/N in place as one hand slid to the back of his neck. “You know how this works, sweetheart. You push, I push back.”

Y/N bit his lip, his glare faltering under Jason’s intense stare. At some point, the defiance melted into submission, and their lips collided in a heated, desperate kiss. Jason’s hands never left Y/N’s body, gripping, claiming, and asserting dominance with every touch.

Before Y/N knew it, he was on his knees, Jason standing over him with his pants tugged low enough to reveal just how demanding he was. Y/N didn’t fight it—instead, he leaned into Jason’s command, eager to please the man who had thoroughly dismantled every ounce of his bravado.

By the end of it, Y/N was back on Jason’s lap, legs spread on either side as his body trembled with it being moved roughly up and down on the vigilante’s manhood, his own throbbing hardness rubbing against his boyfriend’s abs as Jason held him close. The only piece of clothing left between them were the shredded remains of the mesh shorts clinging to Y/N’s hips—barely.

Of course, Jason had to replace them with not one, but three new pairs after the fact. But he made it very clear they’d all meet the same fate if Y/N ever dared to wear them outside the apartment.

Did Y/N listen? Absolutely not. Because, let’s be real—he loved pissing Jason off. And honestly? Maybe the whole “brat who likes to be put in his place” thing wasn’t so far off after all.

And, of course, Jason wasn’t the only one who knew how to push buttons. He had his own arsenal of outfits that drove Y/N wild, and he wielded them with precision. Whether it was his compression gear that clung to his chest and arms in ways that made Y/N’s mouth go dry, or his Red Hood attire that practically screamed dominance, Jason loved to see the effect his clothing—or lack thereof—had on Y/N.

“You’re staring,” Jason had teased once, pulling his hoodie over his compression top in the middle of the gym.

Y/N, flustered and blatantly ogling, had tried to recover with a weak, “No, I wasn’t.”

Jason had chuckled, leaning in just enough to murmur, “You were. And I liked it.”

But the real chaos came in the bedroom. Jason, ever the tease, would sometimes refuse to take off his compression shirt or Red Hood pants during sex, fully aware of the primal side it brought out in Y/N.

“Stop, don’t take it off,” Y/N had panted once, his fingers gripping the slick, tight material as Jason tried to pull it over his head. “Leave it on.”

Jason had smirked, leaning down to kiss Y/N’s neck as he growled, “Anything you want, sweetheart.” He knew exactly what he was doing, letting Y/N’s hands wander over the material, the added friction driving him crazy in the best way.

Jason loved pulling that raw, uninhibited side out of Y/N. It was a side only he got to see, and he relished every second of it. Because while Jason loved being the one in control, he also loved seeing Y/N completely undone, lost in the moment with him.

It was, perhaps, a side effect of Jason’s deeply ingrained dominant nature—his unrelenting need to maintain a sense of control over his surroundings and the people within them. Did that mean he saw Y/N as something to control? Absolutely not. But Jason would be the first to admit that the urge to assert himself surfaced now and then. Fortunately, he had found a way to channel it into something far more productive, releasing it in moments of intimacy where it was not only welcomed but eagerly reciprocated.

And those moments of intimacy? They weren’t confined to the bedroom. Jason’s possessiveness bled into every aspect of their lives, a steady undercurrent to the way he loved. His need for control stemmed from a life filled with chaos, and Y/N understood that better than anyone. Whether it was the firm weight of Jason’s hand resting on the back of his neck during a particularly heated moment, or the low, growling reminders of exactly who Y/N belonged to, Jason’s message was always clear: he didn’t just love Y/N—he claimed him, body and soul.

Jason didn’t say much when Y/N walked into their apartment wearing the oversized hoodie. It was one of Jason’s, slightly frayed at the cuffs and just loose enough to drown Y/N’s smaller frame. The sight alone had Jason's lips twitching upward, his ego swelling with unspoken pride. There was something about Y/N wearing his clothes, especially in public, that hit Jason in a way he couldn’t describe. It wasn’t just the visual—it was the claim it represented, the quiet acknowledgment that Y/N was his, and he didn’t even need to say it out loud for the world to know.

“Isn’t this your hoodie?” Y/N asked casually, dropping his bag onto the floor as he walked past Jason toward the kitchen. He sounded innocent, completely unaware of the fire he’d just stoked. “I borrowed it to wear on campus today. It’s so comfy.”

Jason didn’t respond right away, his gaze trailing after Y/N like a predator tracking its prey. He could see how the fabric clung to Y/N’s shoulders and chest, the way the hem barely grazed the tops of his thighs. It was maddening. He let out a slow, measured breath, leaning back into the couch. “Yeah, sweetheart. It’s mine,” Jason finally said, his voice low but even.

Y/N hummed a little as he rummaged through the fridge. “Well, don’t expect to see it for a while. I’m keeping it.”

Jason’s jaw ticked, his fingers tapping against the armrest of the couch. You’re keeping it, huh? The possessive part of his brain whispered promises of retribution, even as he outwardly played it cool. He waited, biding his time.

Later that night, Jason made his move.

Y/N barely had a chance to react before he found himself pinned beneath Jason on the mattress, the hoodie in question already shoved halfway up his torso. Jason’s massive frame hovered over him, his green-blue eyes blazing with a mix of heat and unrestrained hunger.

“You wore my hoodie,” Jason murmured, his voice husky and low, each word dripping with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

“Yeah,” Y/N managed to reply, his voice breathless as Jason’s hands slid beneath the fabric, rough palms grazing over his bare skin. “I… I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Jason smirked, leaning down until his lips brushed against Y/N’s ear. “I don’t mind, sweetheart,” he whispered. “In fact, I like it. But you should’ve known what that would do to me.”

Before Y/N could respond, Jason’s lips captured his in a searing kiss, stealing the air from his lungs. The hoodie bunched awkwardly around Y/N’s chest as Jason adjusted their positions, one hand pinning Y/N’s wrists above his head while the other roamed freely, kneading his thighs and gripping his waist.

Jason moved slowly at first, rocking his hips in a deliberate rhythm that had Y/N arching up into him. The friction of the hoodie’s fabric against their heated skin was intoxicating, Jason’s voice dropping into a growl as he murmured filthy words into Y/N’s ear.

“You wore this out in public,” Jason said, his voice dark and possessive as his hand slid up to gently grip Y/N’s throat. “Let everyone see you in my clothes. Do you know what that does to me? Huh? Knowing they all saw you like this, wearing something that smells like me?”

Y/N whimpered, his eyes glassy as he gazed up at Jason. His thighs trembled where they were pressed against Jason’s hips, every sharp thrust pulling more desperate sounds from his lips.

Jason tightened his grip slightly, just enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through Y/N without ever crossing the line. “Next time,” Jason growled, his pace rough and demanding now, “ask me first. Or better yet, let me put it on you myself. Because when you wear this, it’s not just a hoodie—it’s a mark. A reminder to everyone who you belong to.”

Y/N’s head lolled back against the pillow, his hands twisting beneath Jason’s unyielding grip. His voice was barely above a whisper as he replied, “Yours, Jason. I’m yours.”

That was all Jason needed. He buried himself deeper, his hand slipping from Y/N’s throat to cup his jaw as he captured his lips again. By the time they were both spent, the hoodie had become an even bigger mess—damp with sweat and stretched beyond repair. Jason lay beside Y/N, his chest rising and falling as he dragged a hand over the faint marks he’d left on Y/N’s neck.

“You’re not wearing this hoodie out again,” Jason murmured, his tone soft now, though no less firm.

Y/N let out a sleepy laugh, snuggling closer to Jason’s side. “Good thing you’ve got plenty more for me to borrow.”

Jason chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Y/N smirked, his eyes fluttering shut. “Not a chance.”

Jason let out a soft laugh, wrapping his arms around Y/N and pulling him closer. Because for all his possessiveness, all his need to dominate and claim, it was moments like this—holding Y/N close, feeling the steady beat of his heart—that reminded him what all of it was really for. Y/N couldn’t help but smile to, because no matter how overwhelming Jason’s love could be, it was also the safest place Y/N had ever known.

Yeah, their love really was like no other. Y/N could absolutely understand why people envied and praised their relationship—it was intense, chaotic, and tender all at once, the kind of connection that made rom-coms look bland by comparison. If he were in their shoes, he’d probably be gushing about it too. Hell, he already did, and he was living it.

But honestly? The next person who came up to him with the audacity to ask if Jason was single was about to catch hands. Y/N normally wasn’t the jealous one in their relationship as it’s been made clear—normally—but there were limits. And some people clearly didn’t know what those limits were.

Just ask that bitch, Xavion…

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[bubbles-is-hardcore]

You know, Sam Winchester gets a lot of flack for the fact that all of his girlfriends die but at least it’s always a random thing. Dean on the other hand?? So much worse!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a Dean stan till I die but it is undeniably crazy.

My man had three boyfriends and all of them died. The big difference is the fact that they all died the exact same way. Dean (though however unintentional) convinced three supernatural beings to LITERALLY KILL THEMSELVES FOR HIM!!

He had all of them so deeply in love with him, he didn’t even have to really ask.

First we have Benny

He fell hard for Dean in Purgatory and was kinda dependent on him outside of it. It hurt Benny a ton when Dean had to cut contact because of Sam. Even then, he still willingly died and went back to the place he had tried for so long to escape. All for Dean and to make sure he was happy.

Then we have the King himself, Crowley.

Dude stabbed himself in the chest to give Dean time to escape. No illusion or trick, just a straight up suicide bomb to distract Lucifer. He clearly caught serious feelings for Dean over the years, especially after he got the mark and turned into a demon. Even though Dean straight up rejected him, he still was too deep in love. He committed suicide to keep him safe.

Then there’s the one and only, Castiel.

He died for Dean multiple times and had been in love with him for so long but this last one was really it. He confessed how much he loved Dean to his face! He said I love you! Knowing he would die if he did! All to save Dean! All to give him a chance! FUCK IM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE THIS ONE HURTS!

Basically, Dean had men falling over each other to sacrifice themselves because they were so in love with him and he still had the gall to think he was unlovable.

In conclusion, Dean Winchester is the most oblivious man in the universe.

[c0ffeejelly1]

When you call them a pet name for the first time

Multiple characters headcannon

Authors note: this was very rushed and not proofread sorry.

Warnings: none. Just the use of ‘baby’..scary.

You were currently on the hunt for your missing phone you dropped somewhere around the house.

Searching every nook and cranny you could feel your boyfriend's gaze on you as he silently watched you now looking underneath the couch pillows.

“Hey, have you seen my phone? I think I left it here somewhere..” He gives you a confused look

“Really? I swear I saw it on the kitchen counter like 5 minutes ago.”

“You did?” You perk up slightly before rushing over to the countertop to see it lying there.

“Yep! I found it! Thank you so much, baby.”

You shoot a grin at him before going through your unread messages.

The type to blush instantly and start malfunctioning

“..huh?”

Were his ears deceiving him or did he just hear what he thought he heard, fall from your lips…

Did you just call him baby?

His minds not playing tricks right? I mean it couldn’t be..

he’s sure- no he KNOWS you said it, because who else other than you would refer to him by that name? Hell, in that way.

It would explain why as soon as you started approaching him, the growing blush he already had on his face intensified even further while he struggled to gather his thoughts.

Wow.

You had really just called him baby.

“You good?” Your voice snaps him out of his internal conflict as a small squeal catches in his throat.

“What?..o-oh!” He scratches the back of his head nervously his eyes looking everywhere but at you.

“Y-yeah! Good, I am! Very I- uh..good.” You give him a weird look, a little confused with his wording before slowly nodding your head, “Um..sure, if you say so, babe..”

boyfriend.exe has shut down.

Woman, are you trying to kill this man? He’s practically a boiling kettle with the amount of heat running through his face and now you're coming in already with pet name number 2?? Slow your roll girl he’s not going anywhere!

He looked like a gaping fish the way he struggled for words to say back to you. He didn’t even need to reply because what you said to him was more of a statement than a question, but yet he still tried. And failed miserably.

“B-baby! Yes! I say so. I- heh..say so..”

…he’s embarrassing himself, isn’t he? Damn it to being head over heels for you.

He kinda avoided you the whole day after that because anytime he caught a glimpse of you he was reminded of 1. The pet name, and 2. How pathetic he looked in front of you when you said it. It was enough to make him start blushing once again.

You best just not talk to him though, because either way, in the end, he’ll find himself clingy onto you like a koala whining about how he hasn’t ‘felt your touch all day’.

As if that wasn’t his fault.

Cuddle this man, please. He’s a real softie at heart.

Characters: SERIZAWA, KAIDOU, armin, NISHINOYA, Hinata, bokuto, KAGEYAMA, Yuji, LEVIATHAN , izuku. (Anyone you like)

The type to smirk to themselves and tease you about it

He couldn’t help the small smug smile forming on his lips.

The way it would curl up into that arrogant grin as if it was almost pleasurable hearing you call him that, if you had seen it in action, it probably would’ve been enough to make you scoff and roll your eyes in annoyance.

He turned to face you once more, dropping his own phone down on the couch before placing his chin onto his palm, the flat part of the cushion holding his arm up, and with a slight cocky chuckle he breathed out,

“Oh? So is that what I am to you, hm?”

You regret calling him that.

You regret it so bad, because now he won’t shut up about it.

“I’m your baby, huh? Why wasn’t I made aware of this until 30 minutes ago?”

You look up from your phone a blank expression on your face. He’s right. It had been 30 minutes- so why was he still going on about it??

“Just watch your damn TV.”

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

.

.

.

“Come on baby..Y’know, you don’t have to be all moody. You’re the one who started it, not me.” You could feel the heavy smirk he still had on his face as your back faced towards him.

You were ignoring him and paying more attention to the dishes you had in the sink because it was the only thing that could distract you from ripping his hair out.

It had been more than 5 hours from when you found your phone, and he was still going on about the whole ‘baby’ situation with his nonstop teasing.

It was always a ‘baby this’ or ‘baby that’- he just wouldn’t let it go!

“So baby, what’s on the menu for me, huh? Is it a homemade Italian cuisine? Oh! Or maybe some Chinese..but then what if you’re being the amazing girlfriend you are and making my fav-”

“My fist.”

“Wha-“

Let’s just say you took care of your little incident that night. I mean..at least he’s not hungry anymore.

Characters: REIGEN, DIMPLE, aomine, kagami, KISE, TENGEN, TORITSUKA, jean, ukai, kuroo, OIKAWA, tendou, atsumu, GOJO, toji, bakugo, satan, diavolo, SOLOMON, denki. (Anyone you like)

The type to go along with it but once he’s alone he’s kicking his feet in the air

“You're welcome, babe.” He knows damn well he is not keeping his cool.

To you, sure, it may have looked like his normal stoic self, but trust me it’s a whole party inside of him.

His palms are sweating.

His heart is pounding.

His mind is racing.

Everything about him is un-orderly

Yet he’s put up a strong front that not even you can tell he’s giggling like a teenage girl inside

It wasn’t until you had left for work that he finally let loose.

He was stuffing his hands in his face trying to hide his heavy blush away from..nobody.

He’s the only one in the house, why was he acting so giddy?

He shook his head left and right like an anime girl, trying to snap out of his state before resting his head on the back of the couch looking up only to see a pair of eyes staring right back at him.

“Well you seem happy, you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Can he die now?

Why oh why were you back already?

He couldn’t have been gushing over you for 6 whole hours..right? No.. he’s not that much of a simp..is he?

He quickly sits up straight, adjusting himself before letting out a small unfazed cough.

“Y/N. Back so soon..”

“Just wanted to pick up my lunch..forgot it on the way out.” You’re not stupid. You just saw this man scatterbrained like 5 seconds ago, and he’s not fooling you this time around; he’s not gonna avoid the question, so you ask him again.

“Did something good happen while I was gone?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you tweaking out on the cou-“

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“But I just saw yo-“

“No you didn’t.”

“I-“

“No.”

Don’t bring up the conversation again or else he’s going to deny everything and its existence.

Characters: Akashi, MIDORIMA, giyuu, AREN, Tsukishima, NANAMI, megumi, MAMMON, IIDA, choso (Anyone you like)

The type to pretend they didn’t hear you just so you can repeat it again

“Hm? What d’you say?” He heard you loud and clear. Just look at his face; he’s barely keeping his smile under wraps.

You could see it the moment you glanced up from your phone. That little rascal was trying to play innocent! You weren’t gonna fall for it though.

You knew how to play this game too.

“Oh, I just said thank you..”

“Mm..you sure? cause I feel like you said something a bit longer.” What’s with the blank face...

What’s he trying to achieve here..he’s just making it more obvious that he CLEARLY heard what you said. Why was he trying to beat around the bush?

You raise an eyebrow at him before crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, I-... I just said thank you. What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, nothing.. just sounded like it was a three-word phrase, not two."

His persistent hints about the comment you made just minutes earlier were becoming harder to ignore. Taking a deep breath, you prepared to speak.

“..you mean me saying, baby?”

“Ohhh, so is that what you said? I knew my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.”

Y’know, he could’ve at least TRIED to seem oblivious but now he just looks like he’s teasing you.

“Yeah…” you replied slowly, turning your attention back to your phone

“..I feel like you should repeat it again cause I didn’t really get to hear you before.”

Blud is NOT nonchalant.

Characters: Murasakibara, Rengoku, EREN, Reiner, IWAIZUMI, akaashi, Ushijima, SUNA, Osamu, geto, LUCIFER, Barbatos. (Anyone you like)

[monamipencil]

saw requests being open and had to wait for thoughts (cause i naturally don't have any) BUT-

wonwoo, seungcheol and reader playing games but every time seungcheol curses (which is, all the time), he has to watch wonwoo fuck you stupid.

(was going to send cheol having to watch you ride his thigh instead of cock but then thigh-riding cheol is already written so i tweaked it a bit)

— bet | c.sc & j.ww

⋆ pairings; seungcheol x fem! reader x wonwoo ⋆ genre; smut, fluff, humor ⋆ w.c; 2k+ ⋆ warnings; unprotected sex, grumbling, cuck! coups, wonwoo is a fucking tease, spitroasting, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, creampie ⋆ a/n; sending virtual kisses to your brain, ris. this thought possessed me and here is this *coughs* monstrosity.

“hey! kissing wasn't included!”

seungcheol's protests fall deaf to your ears as you moan against wonwoo's lips. he kisses you, tongue prodding into every corner of your mouth.

it isn't even the first round tonight. you forgot just how many times you came, clenching around him as he split you open. you moan his name, your orgasm building up again. your abused hole flutters around his girth, and he groans, picking up his pace.

seungcheol groans, a curse word on the tip of his tongue, but he stops before it can spill out. he can't even keep his eyes on the damn game. you look way too pretty, and it's not his cock that's making you moan and whimper now.

“ugh,” it's all he can mutter, refocusing on his game to ensure he doesn't get killed.

why did he agree to the stupid bet wonwoo proposed? as much as seungcheol hates to say it, his ego prevented him from thinking through it before accepting the bet. and now he regrets it.

of course, your consent was taken into account. the only time seungcheol would give up his ego is when it concerns you. but you, surprisingly, agreed. and his ego was again hurt.

your moans reduce to sighs when wonwoo stops his movements to glance at his friend, who once again failed to control himself. a smirk plays on his lips, and it makes your cunt flutters around his cock.

you suck in a sharp breath, gazing into the depth of his eyes. his hair is messy, and it covers his eyes. wonwoo resembles a predator with the way he looks down at you.

but you don't expect to be roughly pulled off the couch by a strong pair of arms that most definitely belong to your boyfriend. your hole clenches around nothing, and you miss wonwoo's cock immediately.

without a second to waste, seungcheol's mouth is on yours. he kisses you harshly and roughly. like he's trying to erase the feeling of wonwoo's lips from your mind. you kiss him back with the same intensity, having missed him and the familiarity of his warmth.

“ah, ah, someone's forgetting the bet.” wonwoo mocks seungcheol, his tone airy and light. he doesn't really care about the bet. he's merely amused by his older friend and his actions.

he waits, letting seungcheol do what he wants. his lips hungrily move on yours, and his hands find purchase under your t-shirt, feeling you up. you moan into his mouth, and his harsh touches leave your body blazing.

your boyfriend pulls away, hands moving to hastily undo his pants. as he does so, you finally notice wonwoo's presence. he hasn't moved from his place on the couch. he leans on the handrest and watches you with a lazy smirk.

seungcheol harshly turns your head towards him. his fingers squeeze your cheeks, making your lips pucker up. he bends forward and kisses you with such force that it makes your head dizzy.

“eyes on me.”

you keep your eyes on your boyfriend but can't help but feel drawn by wonwoo. his eyes are intense, staring holes into you. but before you could give into the urge to look at him, seungcheol strips bare, except the boxers adorning his pelvis.

he steps closer to you and tilts up your chin with his forefinger. he looks at you with such adoration and lust, and you melt into his touch. and what was supposed to be a tender moment is ruined by wonwoo.

“oh wait, didn't you curse when the game ended?” his smirk laces with his voice. though you don't turn to look at him, you can see his teeth flashing with a smirk.

seungcheol's jaw tenses, and he closes his eyes, trying to compose himself. he steps back while keeping his eyes on you, and you maintain eye contact.

the couch dips when wonwoo moves closer to you. he lays a hand on your thigh, silently asking for permission. you give it to him by leaning into a kiss. it's softer than the rest you shared tonight.

his tongue darts out to meet yours in a deep kiss. his hands caress your sides, your breasts, and your ass. a pinch to your nipple makes you moan against his lips, and arousal gathers between your legs again.

your lips move against his as his tongue glides over yours. the wet noises of kissing fill the room, and your cunt flutters around nothing, missing his cock. you open your eyes mid-kiss to find seungcheol staring at you.

wonwoo breaks the kiss and moves away from you, leaving you confused. he only offers you a smirk.

“'m gonna take your mouth. is that ok?” he questions you. your eyes find seungcheol's, asking for permission silently.

you nod, and wonwoo smiles, shifting to stand before you. his cock, all hard and dripping with precome. your mouth salivates, and you feel your cunt flutter with excitement.

you wrap your hand around his base, giving him a few experimental pumps. wonwoo exhales a shaky breath, eyes closing with content. before you can take him in your mouth, you feel the couch dip beside you.

seungcheol shifts in his seat to move you to his lap. his boxers long gone, and his dick curves against his stomach, twitching with need. the thought of being filled with two cocks at the same time makes you feverish and dizzy. 

you feel his cock graze your ass and whimper, neglecting wonwoo in the process. but he doesn’t allow it, opting to prod your lips with cock. you look up at him and wrap your lips around the tip, licking the pearls of precum oozing from his slit. 

at the same time, you feel seungcheol’s tip enter your core. your hands fly up to grab wonwoo’s hip for support. his cock slowly enters you with a delicious stretch. no matter how many times seungcheol molds your cunt to the shape of his cock, it will never fail to amaze just how good he feels each time. 

wonwoo grabs your attention again by carding his hand through your hair, resting it at the back of your head. you suck his tip, swirling your tongue around it while trying to fit more of him into your mouth. your cunt flutters around seungcheol, the length of his cock buried deep inside. 

you gag when you reach the base of his cock. wonwoo lets out a groan of satisfaction while seungcheol remains silent, his hands caressing the small of your back. 

hollowing your cheeks, you move your head up and down his cock. you hum, savoring his taste in your mouth and the way his tip brushes against the back of your throat.

you clench around seungcheol, grinding on him to get him to move. but he stops you, firmly holding your hips in place. you want to turn around, but wonwoo promptly stops you. the hand resting at the back of your head tugs your hair as he thrusts his length down your throat.

you gag and loosen your jaw. tears sprout from your waterline, threatening to fall down as wonwoo abuses your throat. he groans and curses, and the sound of you gagging fills his ears.

unable to control yourself, you clench around seungcheol's cock, chasing some movement. you receive a spank in reply, causing you to make a noise muffled by wonwoo's length.

his cock twitches in your mouth, urging you to suck him harder. your nails dig into his hips, leaving moon-shaped marks. his pace gets overwhelming, and any rational thought melts in your brain. only the sound of him fucking your mouth imprints on your mind.

he pulls out without warning. you gasp for breath and splutter. closing your eyes, you try to relax, but just when you thought you could rest seungcheol moves.

the grip he has on your hips is harsh as he thrusts his cock at an animalistic pace. the force of his thrusts makes you jerk forward, holding wonwoo for support.

you whine around the latter's length. he brushes your hair aside and caresses your face. though the smile he casts down at you is warm, you know it's nothing but a tease.

he gathers your hair at the back to maneuver your head. but he waits for a moment, observing seungcheol's rhythm. wonwoo pushes down your face when the older one pulls out. he pulls out when seungcheol pushes in.

they continue this pattern, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. you're completely mind-fucked, having your holes used by your boyfriend and his friend.

but there's something about seungcheol's thrusts that makes your head spin. as if he's trying to remind you who you really belong to. the jealousy seeps from him, translating into harsh thrusts that have your body trembling.

his cock hits all the right spots with precision. the sounds of skin slapping echo throughout the room, even louder than your muffled moans. his warm thighs press against yours, and his balls slap against your cunt.

your focus is brought back to wonwoo when he pinches your nipples. his cock is buried inside your mouth, your warm walls providing him the utmost pleasure. his pace is bearable, but he's deep inside your mouth, and you feel your throat constrict around his length.

soon, wonwoo starts to match seungcheol's animalistic pace, throwing you off the edge. being filled by two cocks at the same time fills you with ecstasy. wonwoo hits the back of your throat, followed by your boyfriend hitting that spot.

tears cascade down your cheeks and drool down your chin. the band in your stomach tightens, and your moans get louder. seungcheol's pace turns erratic, his cock twitching inside you.

the orgasm finally crashes over you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. wonwoo pulls out like clockwork, giving you time to breathe. he jerks his cock with the help of your drool and holds your head, making you watch him.

seungcheol fastens his pace, fucking you with more desperation. the frustration built up in his body finally catches onto him. the frustration of having to watch you being fucked dumb by his friend over and over again.

with a final thrust, he succumbs to his pleasure, releasing his load inside of you. warm ribbons of cum decorate your walls. seungcheol moans, emptying every single drop inside of you.

wonwoo follows suit. with a groan, he cums, coating your face and chest with his fluids. he topples back on the gaming chair, and you, on seungcheol.

he wraps his arms around you as if it's a reflex. you catch your breath and lean into his touch. You missed his touch. yes, wonwoo is hot and can fuck you dumb. but seungcheol's touch provides you with warmth and pleasure.

you chuckle, patting his arms. his embrace is tighter than usual, and you feel the pucker of his lips behind your neck. you turn around in his arms, and as you thought, he is pouting.

you kiss him with a low coo. he melts into the kiss, softly kissing you back. you curl your arms around his neck and caress his nape and hair. he holds you securely with his arms around your waist.

“alright. uhh, imma head out, now.” wonwoo announces awkwardly. you chuckle, bidding him goodbye and telling him to take care. seungcheol grumbles a farewell, too.

“i'm never cursing again.”

“hey, that wasn't that bad.”

“what do you mean, it wasn't that bad?” you laugh at his expression, and he continues to grumble about it.

“maybe i should fuck one of your friends each time you die in a game!”

“sounds hot, i'm down. a friend of mine actually finds you attractive, should i hit her up?” you tease him, watching his frown deepen.

“ugh, fuck you.”

“oh,” you gasp, “wonwoo, he cursed aga—” your yelling is muffled by his hand, which he quickly replaces with his lips. he crashes his lips on yours, tugging at your hair enough to inflict slight pain. it's all tongue and teeth.

he shifts, bending you over on the couch. his hard cock grazes your thighs.

uh oh, it's going to be a long night.

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys @embrace-themagic

@aaniag @nurihihi (send an ask to be on the taglist!)

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ PARTNERS — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college! au, rich boy! gojo, established relationship, you and suguru are partnered for a project instead of satoru…and he doesn’t take the news lightly, dramatic toru and INSTIGATOR suguru

satoru is sulking—you’d find it a little amusing any other day, but he seems a bit more upset than usual. and quite frankly, suguru isn’t really helping things out either, so you feel just a little bad.

“baby,” you poke his cheek, “it’s not our fault! we just got randomly assigned—”

“whatever,” he huffs. you tug at his arm, but he pulls it away.

it just so happens that the three of you seem to share a class this semester—but unfortunately, suguru is assigned as your partner for a project. it’s the same project satoru wanted to be paired with you for. he seems convinced it’ll be you and him that are called—which, in all honesty, the likelihood of being paired with you out of the multiple people in the class is low, but it’s only added insult to injury that suguru had the odds in his favor.

satoru is not handling it well.

“toru,” you insist, pinching his cheek in hopes to cheer him up. he scowls at you—as if this is your fault, “c’mon, cheer up! now that it’s suguru, you can just tag along when we work—”

“tag along?” he cuts you off, tone bordering on hurt, “so now i’m the third wheel?”

oh dear.

“n-no!” you say quickly—suguru has the audacity to snicker, earning a warning glance from you, “you’re never the third wheel, toru. you’re the first wheel! the only wheel. really!”

“y’know,” suguru starts—you already know whatever he’s about to say is going to make things ten times worse. you try (and fail) to glare at him until he’s silent. “if i recall, the two of you got together through a project, didn’t you? who knows, maybe you’ll have the biggest crush on me after this is over.”

suguru drops the bomb and winks. you look at him like you want to kill him. satoru’s face is devastated.

you think this might be the end.

“what?” satoru gasps, turning to you quickly, “tell him that’s impossible, tell him! tell him he’s hideous and that you only have eyes for me—”

“toru, of course i only have eyes for you, don’t listen to him, he’s just pushing your buttons—”

“hey, you never know. i might charm you,” suguru adds fuel to the fire—this time, you throw your water bottle at him. he catches it with ease, throwing you a smug grin that makes you scowl deeper.

“you’re hideous, suguru,” satoru spits, “no way anyone would leave me for you—”

“that already happened. remember your girlfriend in middle school?”

“that doesn’t count! we were too young to know what love was back then!”

satoru is practically inconsolable now—you consider dropping out of this class just for the sake of peace. maybe you can take it over the summer and be paired with a random stranger that won’t bother your dramatic boyfriend. maybe you can evade the project altogether with a different professor. maybe you can kill suguru and the misfortune of a dead partner can grant you an automatic exemption from this assignment.

you weigh your options as satoru slumps with a pout.

“whatever,” he grumbles, “i don’t even care. have fun without me.”

suguru chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. you sigh before cupping satoru’s cheeks and giving him a small kiss to his forehead to cheer him up.

not surprisingly, it doesn’t seem to work.

“cheer up, baby,” you reason, “at least since it’s just suguru, you won’t have to leave us alone to work! it won’t be awkward if you’re there too.”

“but you’ll be too busy working with suguru to talk to me,” he says bitterly.

“at least i’ll have a handsome face to keep me motivated,” you grin, kissing his jaw—now that…that seems to cheer him up considerably. he brightens, plastering that usual smug grin he sports, as if the world around him wasn’t ending just moments ago.

“i am handsome, aren’t i?” he hums, wrapping an arm around you—mission accomplished, you think happily.

“yeah,” you nod quickly, “and suguru is hideous anyway. i’d never leave you for someone with a tacky man bun—”

“hey, leave my hair out of this—”

“it is pretty tacky,” satoru nods and agrees.

suguru crosses his arms, glaring at the both of you before he opens his mouth to retaliate. you cut in before he can say anything else to worsen satoru’s mood any further.

“and maybe you can help me—you’re smarter than suguru too.”

“he is not—”

“you’re right baby,” satoru hums, “maybe this is for the best. i’ll save both of your grades this way.”

suguru’s vein all but pops. “we don’t need your help—”

“don’t worry suguru,” satoru grins confidently, pointing to himself with his thumb, “i’ll save your grade. no need to thank me—ow!”

you watch tiredly as suguru throws your water bottle at satoru’s head—it’s going to be a long project.

i already know the switch boy! au people are gonna start the “suguru definitely wants reader” comments. i’m waiting for them i can sense them already