#but his softness is not without rough edges

[buck-star]

Playtime | L.H

>> Logan has his fun playing with you, loving the sweet sounds of your begging to let you come. <<

Pairing: Old Man!Boyfriend!Logan Howlett x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 1.016 Words

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, established relationship, smut [daddykink, age gap, fingering (fem!rec), edging, overstimulating, begging, teasing, praises], petnames [bub, babygirl], bit of aftercare

Authors Note: @wtfhasmy-lifecometo old man Logan for you, hehe. Dividers made by me.

Masterlist | Logan Howlett Masterlist

Green eyes are following every little of your movements, his lips in a tight line while he leans back in his chair. Logan’s legs are slightly spread, and he pats his thick thigh. His salt and pepper beard is slightly grown, and you still feel the burning between your legs when you look at it.

He notices your eyes on him, his lips not even twitching upwards. You’re leaning over the kitchen island, watching your — almost all the time — grumpy boyfriend intensely.

“Come here, bub,” his rough voice echoes through the room, and he tilts his head, patting his thigh once again. “Now.”

You clench your thighs, swallowing the whine that creeps up your throat. You push yourself off the counter — slowly. You know he hates it; Logan doesn’t like to wait when he says ‘now’ because it means exactly what he says. Now.

With a smirk on your lips, you walk toward your boyfriend, swinging your hips from one side to the other. Logan growls, his eyes scanning every inch of your body, taking in every little detail of your form.

“I said now.  Not in five minutes,” he says, his eyes narrowing, and he grabs your wrist the moment you’re close enough to him. Logan pulls you down on his lap, your back pressed against his broad chest, and you can feel his muscles tensing. “Don’t play games with me, little girl.”

You whimper softly, pressing your thighs together once more. You can feel your panties dampening, almost speaking through the pants you wear. And you’re sure Logan can smell your arousal already.

“Yes, Logan?” You ask innocently, leaning further against him with a grin still spread over your lips.

“Don’t test me, bub. Could smell ya when ya were standing over there in the kitchen, so stop pretending like ya’re all innocent.” Logan says his warm breath on your skin causes goosebumps all over your body. Logan pushes your legs apart with his, one of his hands sliding immediately underneath the waistband of your panties. “And try again, babygirl.”

You moan softly, his thick, long fingers moving underneath the thin fabric and through your folds. You know what he wants to hear, but you don’t want to give in that fast; you want to play with Logan a bit longer before you give him what he wants.

“Play ya games, bub. And I will play mine, but ya won’t like them,” he explains to you, his voice lowering. Logan leans further back in his chair, his fingers sliding through your folds. “Fuckin’ wet already.”

Logan uses your arousal to wet his fingers, then — instead of pushing into your entrance — he brings them to your clit, spreading your folds to have better access to your bundle of nerves.

“Now, try again, bub. Call me by the right name or you won’t come,” he says with amusement in his voice. He keeps your folds spread but doesn’t touch you further.

“Logannnnnnn,” you whine.

“Ya want it like that… ya get it like that, babygirl.” With a shrug of his shoulders, he presses his thumb down on your clit, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. A soft moan slips past your lips and your throat, your head against his shoulder.

Logan circles your clit and adds some more pressure. When your fingers dig into his arms and your moans get louder, he knows you’re close. With a smirk, he lets go of your clit. “Ya won’t come without my permission, will ya?”

“Lo—“ a slap against your cunt interrupts you; instead, there is a whine that comes out of your mouth. “Daddy, please.”

“Good girl, now ya got it,” he smirks, pressing his thumb down on your clit once again. He rubs it slowly, almost painfully slow, before he increases the pace of his thumb slightly. “Doesn’t mean I will let ya cum without my permission. So ya better start begging.”

Logan’s fingers never leave your clit, only stimulating you like that and bringing you close to your orgasm before he stops and lets the upcoming orgasm fade away. Your begging doesn’t help at all, only earning you some low chuckles from your older boyfriend, who enjoys it pretty much.

“Daddy, please, it feels numb already…” You whine, trusting your hips forward to make him add more pressure to your clit. But Logan only grunts and brings his hand down on your cunt with a wet sound again. “Please…”

“Not yet…” Logan smirks before he removes his hand for a moment. Then he does the same again, edging you over and over again. He loves the sweet whimpers, soft moans, and the struggle to not just let go and come.

He keeps edging you for a few more times, bringing you to the edge before he slows down. His hand landing on your cunt every now and then, letting you hear the wetness between your folds.

“Lo— Daddy, please. Need to come so bad, please, please, please?” You whine, arching your back. The pleasure is building up in your lower stomach. Logan keeps adding pressure to your clit, circling it slowly.

He leans his head closer, pressing his head into your neck and inhaling your scent deeply. “Come, babygirl. Now,” he growls. Logan sinks his teeth into your neck, his pace on your clit increasing and throwing you over the edge of your orgasm.

With a moan of his name, your fingers digging into his arm even further and your hips stuttering, you come in your panties. Your breath is heavy, and your chest rises and falls hectically.

“Good girl, such a good girl for Daddy. Think ya deserve a reward.” You nod, still panting. Logan removes his hand, sucking at his fingers before he pulls you closer against him by your hips. “How about a nice warm bath with ya old man?”

“Sounds perfect, Lo,” you mumble, snuggling further into him. He chuckles and picks you up to carry you toward the bathroom to have a relaxing bubble bath with a message and a lot of kisses Logan will offer to you.

Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber @kimmie113080 @sebastianstanisahotmf @fandomxo00

[venusbyline]

Treatment ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 29, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Spencer Reid x college student!reader

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: praise kink

— summary: Spencer needs to take out the frustrations of his professional life during sex with you, his girlfriend and his favorite student.

— word count: 1.2k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 29th day, female!reader, girlfriend!reader, professor!Reid, praise kink, aftercare, vaginal sex, rough sex, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, body worship, hair-pulling, butt slapping, biting, teacher-student relationship (NO UNDERAGE), secret relationship, dumbification, squirting, dacryphilia, creampie, cum dripping, subspace, fluffy ending, table sex, rough kissing, soft!Reid, dom!Reid, sub!reader. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

Ever since Spencer arrived at university stressed after a week solving an important case at the BAU, you knew he would need to take out all his frustration with you on sex. It was no longer news to the two of you how high Spencer's sex drive became after dealing with maniacal Unsubs, especially when he had to put up with so many students who seemed to have a below average IQ inside his classroom.

The opportunity to teach subjects focused on criminology, sociology and psychoanalysis had been incredible at first, but started increasingly unbearable as the final exams weeks approached. He was trying to get his students used to his assessment method little by little, giving them short and quick tests that contained only some topics that would be included in the final exams.

However, with each test he corrected, he cursed a different teenager. Spencer could barely read the answers without wanting to rip his eyes out of their eye sockets or tear his own skin. Maybe most of the students were really stupid and irresponsible, or maybe he was being very demanding due to the stress he was going through with the latest criminal case. After all, he could not judge someone's intelligence as truly inferior just because he had a real genius brain.

When Spencer saw that he would not be able to concentrate on correcting the tests, he huffed and threw randomly the pile of papers on his table, taking out his phone and sending an urgent text to you, his favorite student and secret girlfriend too.

Even though you were busy in the library studying for another professor's classes, you were more than a little eager when you saw the text from Spencer, or rather Doctor Reid, demanding your presence in his office immediately. You knew what was coming as soon as you had caught a glimpse of him walking through campus hallways earlier that day. He was stressed. And if Spencer was stressed, that meant you would suffer the consequences and be very rewarded later.

"T-This fucking good pussy!" Spencer growled, gripping your waist tighter, giving your ass a slap that made you roll your eyes in pleasure as he moved his hips deeper, more brutally, almost as if he wanted to break you into two parts.

You whimpered when the head of his cock almost hit your cervix, making you see stars. "S-Spencie!"

Your trembling moan came along with a sob, your legs shaking as you gripped the edge of his marble table, trying to steady yourself with each thrust, even though your legs were so weak that you were sure all the paperwork would fall to the floor soon. "You're doing so well, darling. Taking my thick cock inside you like a good girl..." He growled, lowering himself until his chest was against your back, biting your shoulder uncovered by the neckline of your dress. "My best student. The only one smart enough to be admitted to this stupid university."

You knew he was overreacting, but that did not stop you from smiling between moans, your pussy squeezing his cock even tighter while he praised you, fingers pressing the soft flesh of your ass and his lips whispering how smart and hot you were. His favorite. You would always be his favorite student.

Spencer pulled you by your hair, until you were standing as he held himself still inside you, grabbing your chin for a sloppy and aggressive kiss. His free hand pulled just one of your legs up onto the table, the new position making him hit deeper inside your tight pussy. "Fuck... You have no idea how much I needed this." Spencer moaned, taking advantage of the fact that you understood the angle he wanted to fuck you at and he held your hips to help you keep it that way. "I love your little pussy crushing me like that. So tight, even when I'm about to fill you with my cum. You want that, darling? Going around campus with my cum running down your thighs? For everyone to know that you're the best student ever?”

You did not answer your boyfriend, as you were too busy feeling your orgasm coming. Spencer's eyes rolled back as your ass began to bounce faster by the second and you started to moan loudly, forcing him to release your chin to cover your mouth. "Shhh, little girl... You don't want people to know that you're getting special treatment from your professor, don't you, darling? You want them to know how much I love fucking your pussy until you're a whining mess?"

You shook your head immediately, muffled sounds escaping when Spencer licked your neck, continuing to whispering and dirty talking to you, the fucking starting to get more intense after you climaxed and your hole started to get creamy due his pre-cum and your juices.

Noticing how your body began to shake more than normal and your walls were spasming, Spencer let go of your hips only to finger your clit, rubbing it so roughly that you screamed into his palm and finally came again, followed by the transparent liquid squirting from your pussy while Spencer continued fucking you. He stimulated your clit until he also was cumming, moaning in an almost guttural way as he watched the scene of you crying out and squirting, feeling you milking his cock until the last drop.

Spencer sighed at the overstimulation, withdrawing himself from you, causing you to groan in pain and melancholy at the sudden emptiness. "It's okay, darling. You were so good, you're always so good to me... my good girl." Spencer whispered, picking you up to lay you down on the table. It was not the most comfortable place possible for the aftercare, but both of you knew it was the most that having sex hidden in your university professor's office could offer you. He stroked your hair, taking a tissue from his briefcase so he could wipe off the remnants of his cum running down your thighs. He gave you a soft smile because you reflexively tried to pull yourself away, your mind still trapped into the subspace. "It's just me, darling. You're okay. I just need to clean you up now. Is that okay, my girl?"

You nodded weakly and also a little confused, low but less scared whimpers coming from your lips. Spencer was careful not to hurt your already so sensitive and sore core. "My beautiful little girl. You're so perfect, darling. I'm so proud of you..." You smiled with your eyes closed, hearing his husky but loving voice.

Spencer took charge of taking care of you during that moment, placing a soft kiss on your temple, putting your panties back on and fixing your dress. Spencer caressed your head, admiring your weak and sleepy form, trying his best to hold back the giggle that wanted to escape as he noticed that the papers containing his students' tests were damp with random drops from your sudden squirt.

He would have to think about some convincing explanation to give to the university president regarding the stains on those papers. However, for now, the only thing Spencer would do was make sure you were physically and emotionally fine again so both of you could return to your proper responsibilities when the next class started.

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

+18

𝓔𝔁 𝓑𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓗𝓛!𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓲𝓼…

a ruthless enforcer who’s not afraid to get into a fight. Rafe’s an enigma. He only lets his guard down for a handful of people. To everyone else, he’s intimidating and cold

dressed in athleisure always, unless it is date night or game day. Cozy joggers, sweatshirts, v-neck t-shirts, and backward hats. He takes off his gold rings for games, but he never takes off his signature gold chain.

particular about his hair. He has a modern mullet with a longer fringe. He's always perfectly “undone,” removing his helmet and brushing his sweaty bangs off his pretty, chiseled face.

awful at dealing with his emotions. He has a temper—one that lands him in the penalty box often. It’s always a risk mic’ing him up because the NHL never knows what he’ll say.

an expert shit talker, chirping constantly. He loves getting in his opponent's head in any way, whether verbal or physical.

strong. Between ice time and workout, he's ridiculously cut. Thick forearms, massive biceps, deep abs and v-lines, and muscular thighs. Sometimes, he catches himself being too rough, but you swear you can take it.

so good at texting. He never fails to give you the butterflies when he’s out of town— sending you pics and texts just to let you know he's thinking about you.

a sweet talker. His favorite pet names are Baby, Princess, and Pretty; always laced in that deep southern drawl.

touchy. His hands are always on you: grabbing your hips, wrapping his big arms around you to give you a hug

posessive... He loves telling you you're his and hearing you say it.

an ace at the game. He’s known for being rough and tumble but has good hands and outstanding stats.

really, really good with his hands in more ways than one. His big hands can make you a wet mess in record time.

rich, and he loves spoiling you.

unreal in bed and his stamina is insane.

a sharp dresser. Rafe always shows up on gameday with a new designer suit. His favorite is an all-black Gucci suit.

soft around you. He's still rough around the edges, but he can't stay mad at you for anything, and you'd always get your way even on the little things, so much so that you'd tease him for it, which made him melt because “who the hell else teases him?”

always hurt. Walking around with a busted lip or a shiner.

a playboy - he was a fuckin’ dog before he met you, and those old habits were hard to break

always in his head. You're the one that got away, and he thinks about it often.

protective as hell. He checks on your socials nightly, making sure you’re okay

a jealous fuck. He’ll sabotage anyone who even looks your way without a second thought

thoughtful. He sends you your favorite flowers and that designer purse you had your eye on when you were together, waiting by his phone to see if you’ll give him anything even just a “thank you, Rafe” and he’d be more than satisfied

observant. Especially when it comes to you�� He remembers everything: your coffee order, from the drinks the two of you would grab from your favorite cafe before the game. It's a little pregame ritual that he let you be a part of. He remembers your favorite songs, which is also part of his pregame routine. He loved going for a drive, listening to music, and hearing you sing along with your favorite songs, most of which he didn't know and didn't care to know; he just liked hearing your voice. He also remembers the smell of your signature perfume, the sweet elixir stamped into his memory. One of his college sweatshirts you wore the last night you were together is folded up in his drawer, and it still smells like you.

hopeful. He always sets a ticket aside for you just in case he runs into you before the game and you agree to come.

always looking around for you. At your favorite coffee shop before the game or places, he knows you’ll love, hoping to “run into you.”

reckless with his cash. Rafe went on a spending spree since cocaine wasn't an option: cars, watches, jewelry, trips, anything and everything to get his mind off you.

aggressive on the ice. Especially after your breakup, known for playing dirty. Samming bodies against the glass, throwing gloves for next to nothing, breaking sticks to get out his last bits of aggression before crashing down on the bench, burying his head in his gloves, only to go back out on the ice and crash out again.

humbled by his co-captain. He’s the only one who knows how much Rafe was affected by the breakup. He lets him know he needs to figure his shit out because it’s hurting his game and the team.

lonely. He dreads post-game losses because you were his anchor, someone who could ground him— focused more on how he was feeling versus the “game-talk” he gets from everyone else. At first, he hated it, but now he craves it, trying to remember those conversations and the sweet words you said on his drive home

really lonely… He hasn't been with anyone since and doesn't want to which is unheard of for him.

determined to win you back, which means that he’ll have to talk about all the shit he’s feeling, whichnhe knows is for the best. He’s trying to be the man that he knows you deserve.

[engeorged]

Bulk Brothers

A little thank you present for @badoobers for listening to my shit and crazy ideas!

Jamal and Jonny couldn’t have come from more different backgrounds, but to anyone who saw them together, it was clear they were inseparable. Jamal, a tall, lean, and strikingly good-looking West African, was the middle child in a large and affluent family. His parents had worked hard to build their wealth, and they made sure their children were well taken care of. Jamal’s charisma and natural athleticism made him a standout wherever he went. He had a quiet confidence about him, the kind that turned heads without him even trying. With his sharp jawline, smooth skin, and deep dark eyes, he had no shortage of admirers.

Jonny, on the other hand, was from a council estate in Manchester, where life had never been easy. His family wasn’t wealthy, and he had learned from a young age to fight for what he wanted. But despite the tough circumstances, Jonny had made something of himself. Like Jamal, he was tall and athletic, his body honed by years of martial arts and boxing. His good looks were more rugged than Jamal’s—his jaw strong, his nose slightly crooked from a childhood fight, but it only added to his appeal. Women were drawn to his roguish charm and easygoing nature, and Jonny never had trouble finding a date.

The two had met in nursery school, and from that moment on, they were inseparable. Their different backgrounds seemed to mean nothing to them—they just clicked. Whether it was their shared love of sports or the way they both refused to let life’s challenges bring them down, Jamal and Jonny were each other’s constant in a world that often felt unpredictable.

From a young age, both boys found a passion in martial arts and boxing. They trained together, pushed each other to be better, and competed in events side by side. They were each other’s greatest supporters and fiercest competitors. And as they grew older, they became each other’s wingmen, navigating the world of dating with the same ease as they did the ring. Nights out in Manchester were filled with laughter, friendly banter, and plenty of attention from the opposite sex. Jonny’s rough-and-tumble charm was the perfect counterpoint to Jamal’s smooth confidence, and together, they were unstoppable.

Now, in their late twenties, the two best friends had decided it was time to take their fitness to the next level. They had always been lean and strong, but they wanted more—they wanted to bulk up, to build muscle and transform their bodies into something truly impressive. So, they devised a plan: six weeks of eating whatever they wanted, followed by intense training to turn that bulk into muscle.

The first few days of the bulk were easy enough—Jamal and Jonny relished the freedom to eat whatever they wanted. Their usual diets, full of lean proteins and vegetables, were swapped for pizzas, burgers, and anything else they could get their hands on. But as the days turned into weeks, the challenge became more intense. Every morning, they’d meet at Jamal’s flat to weigh themselves, marking their progress on a chart pinned to the wall.

At first, the weigh-ins were lighthearted, with the two friends laughing as they saw the numbers on the scale slowly climb. But soon enough, it became competitive. Jonny, always the more aggressive of the two, was determined to outdo Jamal, even in this. He’d pile his plate high at every meal, determined to gain more weight, faster.

Jamal, though naturally more laid-back, couldn’t resist rising to the challenge. He might have been used to a more disciplined lifestyle, but there was something exhilarating about throwing caution to the wind. The daily weigh-ins became a ritual, each of them secretly hoping to edge ahead of the other. Their bodies began to change—their abs softened, their faces filled out, and their clothes started to fit a little more snugly.

“Mate, you’re looking a bit soft around the edges,” Jonny teased one morning, patting Jamal’s midsection after a particularly indulgent weekend.

“Look who’s talking,” Jamal shot back with a grin, poking Jonny’s belly, which was beginning to round out slightly.

Despite the banter, there was a camaraderie in their competition. Each pound gained was a small victory, a sign that they were fully committed to the plan. They both knew this was just the beginning, and they pushed each other to keep going, even when the sheer volume of food became overwhelming.

As the weeks passed, their bodies continued to change, and the competition grew fiercer. They reveled in their successes, shared tips on how to consume even more calories, and laughed at the absurdity of it all. But beneath the surface, there was an unspoken understanding—this was more than just a physical transformation. It was a test of their friendship, their discipline, and their ability to push beyond their limits.

About halfway through their bulk, Jamal and Jonny decided to put their appetites to the test with a visit to a famous steakhouse known for its massive portions and legendary food challenges. They’d heard whispers of the “Mega Meat Feast”—a colossal platter of steaks, ribs, brisket, and sausages that only the hungriest dared to tackle. For these two, it was an irresistible challenge.

The moment they walked into the steakhouse, the aroma of grilled meat hit them, making their mouths water. They exchanged determined looks, their competitive spirits kicking in as they eyed the menu.

“Ready for this?” Jonny asked, grinning as he rubbed his hands together.

“Always,” Jamal replied, with a confident smile, already imagining the feast ahead.

When the waiter brought out the Mega Meat Feast, the sheer size of it was enough to make most people reconsider. But Jamal and Jonny were unfazed. They dove in, each carving off hunks of meat and devouring them with gusto. The first few bites were heaven—succulent, perfectly cooked, and seasoned to perfection. The two friends attacked the platter with the same intensity they brought to their workouts, eager to see who could finish the most.

As the meal went on, the challenge became less about savouring the flavours and more about sheer endurance. Their stomachs swelled with every bite, the weight of the food pressing down on them, but neither was willing to back down. Jonny, always the more competitive, pushed through the discomfort, his jaw working tirelessly as he stuffed himself. Jamal, meanwhile, found himself slowing down, his belly stretching painfully as he forced down another mouthful.

“Mate, I’m gonna pop,” Jonny groaned as he leaned back in his chair, his belly round and tight beneath his shirt. Beads of sweat covering his forehead

“Tell me about it,” Jamal replied, wiping sweat from his brow. His normally flat stomach had expanded into a solid dome, pressing against his waistband. “But we can’t stop now.”

They kept going, pushing themselves beyond what they thought possible. By the time they were done, they were both a mess—sweaty, stuffed, and barely able to move. The waiter came over, eyebrows raised in disbelief as he surveyed the empty platter.

“We rarely have someone finish this!” he said, clearly impressed. “You two are something else.”

Jamal and Jonny grinned at each other, too full to even speak. They’d done it—they’d conquered the Mega Meat Feast, and they had the bloated bellies to prove it.

When they finally made it back to Jamal’s flat, they collapsed onto his bed, both too stuffed to do anything but groan in discomfort. Jonny lay on his back, his belly rising and falling with each laboured breath, while Jamal stretched out beside him, his shirt riding up to reveal the swollen curve of his stomach.

“Mate, I’ve never felt this full in my life,” Jonny said, rubbing his aching belly.

“Same,” Jamal replied, though he couldn’t help but chuckle. “But you know what? We did it. We actually did it.”

They lay there for a while, their overstuffed bellies keeping them pinned to the bed. Eventually, the discomfort gave way to a sense of accomplishment, and they began to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Jonny reached over and gave Jamal’s belly a playful slap. “You’re gonna have to work extra hard to burn this off, mate.”

Jamal grinned, returning the favour by patting Jonny’s rounded stomach. “Speak for yourself, mate. Looks like you’re carrying twins in there.”

They bantered back and forth, poking fun at each other’s bloated physiques, but underneath the teasing was a deep bond that went beyond appearances. No matter how much they ate, how much they gained, or how ridiculous their challenges became, they were in it together.

Six weeks into their bulk, and after a series of increasingly intense food challenges, Jamal and Jonny decided to go out with a bang. Their final blowout meal would be the ultimate test: a McDonald’s binge like no other. They had joked about it for days, but now it was time to put their plan into action. The goal was simple—order one of everything on the menu and eat until they couldn’t take another bite.

Walking into the McDonald’s, they felt a mix of excitement and dread. The cashier’s eyes widened as they placed their order, reading off every item on the menu, from Big Macs and nugs to McFlurries and donuts.

As the food began to pile up on the counter, Jonny and Jamal exchanged gleeful, if somewhat nervous, glances.

“Ready for this?” Jonny asked, his eyes shining with anticipation.

“Let’s do it,” Jamal replied, a determined look on his face.

When they finally sat down with their enormous haul, the sheer amount of food was overwhelming. Bags and trays were stacked high with burgers, fries, nuggets, shakes, and pies. It was a sight to behold—a feast fit for an army, and it was all theirs.

They started with the burgers, each taking a bite of their first Big Mac. The rich, greasy layers of beef, cheese, and sauce were familiar but indulgent, and for a moment, they savoured the flavours. But as they moved through the burgers, the sheer quantity began to take its toll. Jonny was already starting to feel the weight of his meal, his already larger stomach growing tight with each bite. Jamal, too, could feel the pressure building, his newly burgeoning beginning to swell as he stuffed himself with burger after burger.

As the meal continued, they switched to fries and nuggets, washing them down with shakes. Their bellies were now stretched to the limit, the once-innocuous fast food becoming a challenge of endurance. The sweet taste of the McFlurries was a welcome respite, but even that didn’t come without its own set of difficulties.

By the time they were nearing the end of their meal, both were struggling. Their bellies were immense, each bite requiring a significant effort to force down. Jonny leaned back in his seat, his shirt pulled tight over his engorged stomach, while Jamal’s face was flushed and sweaty, his belly so distended it was pressing against the table.

“Mate, I think I’m gonna burst,” Jonny groaned, his voice filled with a mix of pleasure and pain.

“Same here,” Jamal said, his words slurring slightly as he attempted to finish the last few fries. “But we’re almost there. We can do this.”

With a final effort, they pushed through the last of the food. The moment they finished, they sat back, their bellies full and round, unable to move.

“Never again,” Jonny said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he rubbed his overstuffed stomach.

Jamal nodded in agreement, though he was grinning. “Definitely a memorable way to end the bulk, though.”

They stumbled out of the McDonald’s, each step a struggle as they tried to accommodate their newly expanded bellies. When they finally reached Jamal’s flat, they collapsed onto the couch, completely exhausted.

“That was insane,” Jonny said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so full.”

“Agreed,” Jamal replied, patting his swollen belly with a satisfied sigh. “But it was worth it. We really went all out.”

The two friends lay there, their bellies still painfully full, but with smiles on their faces. Despite the discomfort, there was a sense of accomplishment that came with completing their epic binge. It was a final testament to their commitment to the bulk and the bond they shared.

After a night spent digesting the enormous feast they had consumed at McDonald’s, Jonny and Jamal woke up early the next morning, ready for their final weigh-in. They both wore their sweats—comfortable and loose enough to accommodate their now heavily bloated stomachs, although even these pants seemed to strain a bit around their expanding midsections.

The scale was set up in the middle of Jamal’s living room, an unassuming device that would now reveal the fruits of their six weeks of dedication and indulgence. The air buzzed with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation as both men prepared to see just how much their bodies had changed.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Jonny said, his voice laced with determination as he pulled off his hoodie. Underneath, his once-lean physique had thickened dramatically. His belly, now rounded and heavy, pushed out over the waistband of his sweats, a firm ball of flesh that hung with noticeable weight. His chest had also grown fuller, though it retained some firmness beneath the added bulk. Jonny’s torso was covered in a dusting of dark hair, the kind that grew thicker around his chest and trailed down his belly, emphasising the new size he carried. He gave his gut a quick rub, feeling the solid mass beneath his fingers before stepping onto the scale.

The numbers flickered for a moment before landing on 252 pounds. Jonny raised his eyebrows in surprise, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Damn, 252! I’ve really packed it on, haven’t I?”

Jamal chuckled as he peeled off his own sweatshirt, revealing the considerable changes to his body. While Jonny’s belly was rounded and firm, Jamal’s had grown even larger, becoming a substantial dome that protruded proudly over the waistband of his sweats. His chest had softened, a noticeable layer of fat covering his once-chiselled pecs. His arms, legs, and face had all filled out, adding to his overall heft. His belly, unlike Jonny’s, was smooth and expansive, a stark contrast to Jonny’s hairy torso.

“Let’s see what the damage is,” Jamal said, stepping onto the scale with a confident grin.

The numbers flashed, then settled on 261 pounds. Jamal whistled low. “261! Guess I went all out, huh?”

“Mate, you really went for it,” Jonny laughed, giving Jamal’s belly a playful slap, his hand making contact with a satisfying smack that left a visible red handprint on Jamal’s smooth skin. They both burst into laughter, but as the mark lingered, Jonny’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Hold on a second,” Jonny said, his gaze shifting from Jamal’s belly to the numbers on the scale. “You gained more than me! That’s over thirty pounds you’ve put on.”

Jamal grinned, looking down at the red handprint on his belly. “Looks like I did, huh? Guess I’ve got a bit more to show for it.”

Jonny shook his head, a mix of amusement and disbelief on his face. “I can’t believe you outdid me. You’re carrying it well, though.”

Jamal smiled, patting his belly with pride. “It’s been a wild ride, that’s for sure.”

They stood there for a moment, appreciating the changes in each other’s bodies. Jonny’s hairy, solid bulk contrasted with Jamal’s smooth, expansive belly—each a testament to the extreme dedication they’d shown during their bulk. The numbers on the scale, though surprising, only strengthened their bond, adding another layer to the shared experience they’d embarked on together.

As they pulled their sweats back on, the lingering red handprint on Jamal’s belly served as a reminder of just how far they’d both come. The bulk was officially over, and while their paths forward might differ, the camaraderie and competition they’d shared during these six weeks would remain with them for years to come.

A few weeks later, Jamal’s family had a big wedding, and of course, Jonny was invited as part of the family. The event was a lavish affair, held at a beautiful estate with all the trappings of a traditional West African celebration. Jamal and Jonny arrived together, dressed in sharp suits that had been tailored to accommodate their new sizes.

Jonny had begun his cut, focusing more on his training. His body was slowly transforming again, the extra weight he had gained already turning into muscle. His arms were thicker, his chest broader, and his belly, though still present, was beginning to firm up as his abs started to reappear.

Jamal, on the other hand, had seemingly not begun his cut. His suit instead, custom-made to fit his expanded frame, hugged his round belly and thick thighs. His face was fuller, his jawline softened, but there was a confidence in the way he carried himself that hadn’t been there before. As they made their way through the crowd, it was clear that Jamal was in his element, greeting relatives with a warm smile, his belly leading the way.

The reception was a feast unlike any other, with tables piled high with food. Jonny watched in amazement as Jamal indulged in everything on offer, going back for seconds, thirds, and even fourths. While Jonny ate in moderation, mindful of his recent decision to cut back, Jamal seemed to have no such concerns. He piled his plate high, savouring every bite, his belly swelling even more as the night went on.

It wasn’t until later in the evening, after the dancing had begun and the crowd had thinned, that Jonny finally decided to address the elephant in the room. They were sitting at a table, watching the festivities, when Jonny turned to his friend.

“Mate, what’s going on?” Jonny asked, keeping his voice low. “You’ve been eating like a man possessed all night.”

Jamal looked at Jonny, a defensive glint in his eyes. “What, I’m not allowed to enjoy myself?”

“No, it’s not that,” Jonny said quickly. “It’s just… I’ve noticed you’ve been eating like this a lot lately. You said you were happy with the bulk, but… it seems like more than that now.”

Jamal sighed, leaning back in his chair. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his hand resting on his rounded belly. “Alright, I’ll be honest with you, Jonny. I love this. I love the way I feel, the way my body’s changing. I know it’s not what we planned, but… I don’t care. I’m tired of always being in control, of always having to watch what I eat. For once, I just want to let go and enjoy life.”

Jonny was quiet for a moment, processing what Jamal had said. He could see the passion in his friend’s eyes, the genuine joy he seemed to get from his new lifestyle. “And you’re okay with this? I mean, really okay?”

Jamal nodded. “Yeah, I am. I know it’s not what we expected, but I’m happier now than I’ve been in a long time. I know it might seem crazy to you, but this is what I want.”

Jonny looked at Jamal, seeing the contentment in his expression, the ease with which he carried himself. “Alright, mate. If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. But you know I’m here if you ever want to talk, yeah?”

“Thanks, Jonny,” Jamal said, a smile breaking through the tension. “I appreciate it. And I know I’ve changed, but I’m still me. We’re still mates, right?”

“Always,” Jonny replied, clinking his glass against Jamal’s.

As the night went on, they continued to enjoy the celebration, their bond as strong as ever despite the changes in their lives. Jonny couldn’t deny that Jamal seemed happier, more at ease with himself. And as they danced and laughed with the rest of Jamal’s family, Jonny knew that, no matter what, their friendship would remain unshakable.

The next six months brought about a transformation in both Jonny and Jamal—one that would take them down very different paths, yet somehow, they remained as close as ever.

Jonny threw himself into his training with renewed vigour. Every day, he pushed his body harder, and it showed. His muscles grew more defined, his shoulders broadening, his arms thickening, and his chest becoming a solid wall of muscle. The extra weight he’d gained during the bulk turned into pure power, each workout sculpting his body closer to perfection. His abs reemerged, cut and chiselled, the kind of physique that turned heads wherever he went.

With his newfound strength, Jonny found himself more confident, and his lean, muscular build drew plenty of attention. He never lacked for company on nights out, often catching the eyes of women who admired his hard-earned physique. But through it all, he never forgot where he’d come from—or who had been there with him from the start. Jamal, his oldest friend, was still by his side, though their paths had diverged in more ways than one.

Jamal, meanwhile, had fully embraced his new lifestyle. What began as a carefree approach to eating had evolved into something more—a deep, almost joyful indulgence. He ate whenever he wanted, whatever he wanted, without restraint. Fast food, rich desserts, hearty home-cooked meals—nothing was off-limits. And as he ate, his body responded in kind.

Jamal’s belly grew rounder and heavier with each passing week, expanding outwards until it was a solid, prominent dome that jutted out over his waistband. His ass, too, had grown, filling out his jeans until they were stretched tight across his hips. His thighs thickened, his face softened, and his once lean physique became a thing of the past. By the end of the six months, Jamal had transformed into a big, soft presence, his weight steadily increasing as he continued to indulge in every craving.

But for all the physical changes, Jamal’s personality remained the same—if not even more confident and self-assured. He didn’t shy away from his new size; he embraced it, wearing clothes that accentuated his figure and walking with a proud, unapologetic swagger. When he stepped into a room, heads turned, and while some looked at him with surprise or curiosity, many more admired the confidence he exuded.

Despite their diverging paths, Jonny and Jamal continued to meet up regularly. Their conversations, once centred around workouts and dieting, now covered a wider range of topics. They talked about their lives, their goals, and their dreams, and though their journeys were different, the bond they shared remained as strong as ever.

As they moved forward in their respective lives, each man found happiness in his own way. Jonny revelled in the power and strength he had built, while Jamal enjoyed the freedom and joy of his indulgent lifestyle. And though their paths had diverged, their friendship remained a constant—a testament to the bond that had formed in nursery school and endured through all the changes life had brought their way.

In the end, it didn’t matter how different they had become. They were still the same two friends who had met all those years ago, still inseparable, still sharing the kind of bond that could weather any storm. And as they looked back on their journey, they knew that, no matter where life took them, they would always have each other.

Find more of my stories here

[callme-holly]

Can you do tim shepard x shy clingy reader? They always want to be around tim but is too shy to have conversation with any of his men. Always climbing into his lap or leaning into his body to whisper in his ear. Always wants to hold hands and wanting to be helpful.

𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 [𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - will change the pics and edit tmr !!

It was late, much later than Tim had promised. The sun had long since set, the sky a deep shade of purple which faded into an almost inky blue; a spattering of stars were already starting to glitter and twinkle, interrupting the plainess of the dark canvas. 

The air was crisp but warm; a slight breeze stirred up as night fell, and you let out a soft, gentle sigh, moving away from the window, pacing the length of the cramped bedroom. 

9pm: that was what the clock on the bedside table read. Tim had promised him and the boys would be done by 8; yet they’re still all sat in the living room, laughing loudly and discussing everything but business. 

Tim had told you to head to bed when everyone arrived, knowing all too well how sheepish you became when they were around. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them, they seemed fine enough, and they’d never done anything to you which proved otherwise, however, every single one of them was rough around the edges, and you knew from stories alone just how dangerous they were. 

That’s why you tended to stay away and keep your distance, only speaking when spoken to and sticking close to Tim’s side, where you were safe and protected. 

Still, you wanted nothing more than to be with him right now, and no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't fall asleep without him holding you. So, even though you knew it was foolish, you slipped out of the room and padded your way to the living room, the voices and laughter only growing in volume the closer you got. 

The soft glow of the lamp in the corner filled the room, bathing the walls in a warm, golden light that cast long shadows across the floor, and as your eyes adjusted to the new lighting, you saw that all 6 boys were seated around the room, lounging casually as if they owned the place. 

Tim is sat in his usually chair, feet kicked up onto the coffee table, cigarette between his lips, the smoke spiralling up into the air before dissipating into the darkness of the shadows. He’s watching attentively as the others all chat idly, their words entirely irrelevant and not at all important. They are so caught up in their conversation, they barely notice your presence,  and it isn't until you come up behind your boyfriend, hands resting lightly on his shoulders that he turns to face you, expression morphing into one of mild guilt. 

“Hey, baby,” he mumbles, quick to stub out his cigarette, patting his lap softly, inviting you to come sit. You don't have to be told twice. As soon as your settled against him, his arms wind around your torso, hands tracing up and down your back in a way that's both grounding and relaxing.

He leans forward, planting a soft kiss on your temple and whispers lowly into your ear, “Didn't think they'd stay this long.” His voice is low and gruff, but his tone is sweet as honey, and you melt into his touch like an animal desperate for attention. You know he's only like this for you; he wouldn't dare show this side to anyone else. 

“It’s fine,” you whisper, dropping your head so that your face is tucked in the crook of his neck. “I don’t mind. As long as they don’t stay too late.” 

Tim huffs a laugh, a low, gruff sound, the arm around your waist tightening ever so slightly. “I’ll get rid of them soon, promise.” His lips brush the top of your head, and by now, he isn't even paying attention to the conversation at hand, his sole focus on you and you alone. 

His fingers run gently through your hair, soothing the nerves that always spring up whenever you're around company. His touches are warm, reassuring, comforting, and you find yourself leaning in closer, basking in his warmth. There’s something about being this close to him, the scent of his cologne, his presence… you don’t know exactly what it is, but you know that you absolutely adore being surrounded by him.

You don’t want to move, because moving means letting go of him, and somehow, you don't think you can do that. Not when you're this comfortable and content in his arms.

Besides, nobody seems to notice the pair of you, and if they did, nobody speaks a word.  They simply sit there, chatting quietly amongst themselves, the occasional outburst of laughter filling the quiet from time to time. The atmosphere feels calm, easy, and peaceful; a moment to rest. But even as you try to drift off into a peaceful sleep, you can’t help but wish they’d hurry up and finish whatever they’ve been talking about, so you and Tim could finally go to bed and get some sleep. Together. No intrustions, no interruptions. Just Tim and you, the weight of his body pressing down on yours, enveloping you in warmth, lulling you into sleep as his hands trail up and down your sides, fingers dancing across your skin, tracing little, intricate patterns. You close your eyes, your breathing becoming slow and even with each passing second, Tim’s chest rising and falling in time with your own, steady and strong.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Served Piping-Hot - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Silco recounts a moment after Bloody Sunday...

cw: sex, mentions of death, PTSD

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

When they began, she'd thrown herself across the bed in a fitfully defiant way: sloughing off her shawl, kicking off her boots. Her wrist shook when she fished a hand through the fly of his trousers. Her touch was rough, eager. He got the sense that she was asserting her right to something that, unless otherwise specified, belonged to her sister.

Something that'd stay in dispute unless she made a bold claim.

Silco hadn't resisted. She'd tumbled, pulling him down with her, tugging off his clothes. And he'd let it happen. Her hands felt good, and her kisses, and her skin. But within that shell of readiness, she was all raw nerve. Tipping him onto his back, she crawled down his body. Shoved his boxers down, scooping him out and working his length.

Almost without preliminaries, she took him into her mouth.

Her technique was a far cry from Nandi's. All spit; no finesse. Like with her kisses, she didn't quite know how to read his rhythms, or adjust her own to match.

The best suckjobs, Nandi had taught Silco, were a slow build. Like the first gulp of hashish through a pipe: a sweet, insidious blossom burning up the vine toward nirvana.

This was the opposite. A crude performance better suited to a backalley. One where a portion of the clientele wasn't paying for a blowjob, but a beatdown. And Silco—for whom the best fucking was always a discourse on human complexity—wasn't buying.

Especially when he knew what she was truly aiming for.

A way to establish—all-or-nothing—that she was the rightful owner of his pleasure. To prove herself worthy of whatever scrap of him she could possess. And if Silco's memory wasn't playing him false, a small, sick part of him was content to let her try. To let her conclude this exercise of futility until it hit her that she wasn't her sister, and couldn't fake it, and could never replace what was irreplaceable.

Not with a mouthful of whore's tricks.

Except he couldn't bear to see her debase herself.

Gently, he caught her head in his palms. The seal of her lips broke with a wet pop. Sitting up, she wiped her wet chin with the back of her wrist.

"What?"

"Sevika—"

"What? What's wrong?" Her eyes grew hotly glazed. "You don't like my mouth?"

"I like it fine. Just not that way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means what it means."

And, still cradling her head, he tugged her into a kiss. A slow kiss, to school her to a slower pace. The need, he dammed up; the desire, he let through. Until she was listening to his kisses more closely than to his nakedness. Until her own desire—a flashflood—found a steady current to ride. And his mouth, a patient guide, led her home.

"Okay," she breathed, shakily. "Okay."

"You get it?"

"Yeah. Just—show me."

So he did.

Catching her hand, he brought it to his lips. Bit the fingertips, then, with an obscene tenderness, licked her palm. She shivered, and he returned her spit-wet hand to his cock. Together, they stroked: a slick, steady spiral.

And Sevika, never one to shirk her duties, paid close attention.

Diligently, she resumed her post. She gave him the full heat of her mouth; she gave him the full span of her hands. Still nothing like Nandi, but damn, did she learn fast. The sight of her—full-lipped, glossy-eyed, spit-slicked—imprinted into his retinas. His palms wedded themselves to the crown of her skull. Her cheeks were hot against his smoothing thumbs. Her tongue was hot too, lapping around the soft edge of his foreskin, then sucking the gleaming juice from the tip. She'd pull off, panting, "You close? Tell me. Tell me," and he'd groan, "Yes, fuck, yes," and she'd grin and dive back in.

Her eagerness was so intense it nearly tipped into fanatical: she made him feel like a god. But there was a stubborn, competitive glint in her eye. She was proving something to herself. This suckjob was her gauntlet. If she could succeed here, maybe she'd succeed at wedging herself into other spaces in his life. Spaces he wouldn't grant her entry, unless she'd earned it.

Silco was no fool. Even then, he knew how Sevika was wired.

By the end, she'd won gusting groans from him. She'd won a slurred syllable of praise. Then she'd won it all, swallowing every spurt.

The room blotted out. Silco's palms slid from her nape. His head fell back. For a long, shuddering moment, he was spent. Sevika suckled lavishly along his softening flesh, then let go. A glistening thread of saliva connected her mouth to his cock. Then it broke, and fell: ice-cold. The sensation that broke over him was colder still.

He thought of the ash in the urn. The blood on the knife. The corpses in the dark.

He shivered, and shut his eyes.

"Sil?"

Sevika's palm found his knee. She couldn't read his thoughts. But she could sense him lapsing into a dark reverie. Maybe she thought he was dissatisfied. Maybe comparing her to Nandi, and finding her wanting. Maybe regretting the whole encounter, or canceling it out completely, with the same cold practicality that'd driven him to murder.

As if, somewhere, Nandi's ghost wasn't screaming: My sister, you monster—!

But a ghost's hard to hear, when the living are still breathing.

"Sil?" Sevika repeated. "Say something."

Rousing, Silco cupped her cheek. Her eyes were bright, the lashes wetly clumped. A dab of semen twinkled at the corner of her lips. He thumbed it off, then caught her in a kiss. Tasting himself on her mouth, his spent cock gave a lazy twitch. The tide, a heady surge, hadn't ebbed. It'd only changed course.

Sevika, in her closeness, kept him anchored to the shore.

"Good," he breathed. "You're good."

"Yeah?"

"Very." He thumbed the divot in her lower lip. "Now, I've a question."

"Wh-what?"

"What would you like?"

"I—" Her cheeks flushed: a dull, rosy hue. "We don't have to do anything else."

"No?"

"This is—enough. You're enough."

"Enough, hm?" He slinked out that smile that hadn't made an appearance since Bloody Sunday. The one that said he had no scruples about getting his hands dirty, and was looking forward to doing it. "That's a tall order."

"So?"

"So? Make a bigger one." The thumb sank past her lips. She lapped it helplessly with her tongue. "C'mere."

The next few minutes were a stickysweet affair. They kissed again, and it was good. Kissed some more, and it was better. She tasted delicious when she was all het up: his salt and her need. Her sighs came from someplace deep—ascending octaves of pure hunger. There was a refreshing lack of fakery to her; a plainspoken simplicity of fact.

In pleasure, as in rage, she was all-in.

Together, they made short work of her clothes. The green-striped gloom wasn't much of a setting for her nudity. But he saw all of her, and what he saw, he liked.

A lot.

In the future, he'd routinely enjoy taking stock of Sevika's body. Keep a mental catalogue of hard-won scars, and secret sweet-spots. He'd even revel in the changes that time etched into her: the lines fanning from her eyes, the silver threading her hair, the leathery cicatrices where the augmentations joined flesh.

But nothing—nothing—would beat the wallop of her nakedness the first time.

She was nothing like her sister. There was no supple delicacy; no fine-boned elegance. This was a sturdy slab of a woman, the type who'd weather a hard life without breaking. But what wasn't hard was lushly, ferally female. Her breasts, under a dusting of freckles, were fully loaded with aggressive, high-rise peaks. Her belly was a washboard of muscle; her thighs strong enough to crack a skull between them. The quantity of down on her arms and legs glinted like hazy copper. A darker stripe arrowed straight down into her pubis.

Silco took it all in, and found it worth the taking.

Gently, he spilled her across the sheets. It took a moment to become accustomed to the texture of the dark; to the differences between her and the ghost that still lingered on those sheets. But ghosts don't gasp, or sigh, or sob. They don't toss their head when you nuzzle the base of their throat, or bite the pillow when you suckle their breasts, or claw the headboard when you work a palm between their thighs. They don't have a pulse that leaps, or a heat that blooms, or a slickness that grows.

No ghost can do that. Only the living. Only Sevika.

Who was falling apart.

To this day, Silco has never seen a woman that way. So heartbreakingly wrecked. By this juncture, he's wrecked his share. Men, women, what-have-you. Some he'd break for pleasure. Others for profit. A few for no good reason at all. He never lost sleep over it.

He'd lose a helluva lot more over Sevika.

But that part of the story's for later. Let's not spoil the ending.

"Sil," Sevika panted hoarsely. "Fuck me."

"Come for me first, love. C'mon."

"Don't give a fuck about—" a shaky alto, as two fingers slid coaxingly deeper inside her. "—please. Want you in me."

"Sev—"

"Now, dammit, now!"

He'd soon learn that iron tenor in her voice. The one that meant there'd be no budging. Not unless he wanted a full-fledged revolt on his hands.

But a cockstand's no clairvoyant, and his was hard enough to pound nails.

"Okay," he rasped. "Okay."

And, without stopping to reconsider, he was in her.

He'll never forget the moment he broke skin. The tiny ragged sob in her breath; the slippery terra incognita; the sweet yielding heat. It'd been so long. Too fucking long. And she felt—gods, she felt just like her. Like Nandi. Better than Nandi, because she was alive. Because she was here, and his, and he'd kill to keep it that way.

Kill the last dreg of his own self, if that's what it took.

Sevika let off a high, salty sob.

The sound snapped him back to the moment. He stared down at her: a dusky silhouette on the sheets. He didn't understand the ragged cadence to her breaths, or the spooked gleam in her eyes. Her body was a seismograph of high-strung tremors. Her hips, her thighs, her knees: all the parts as essential in a fight as in a fuck—locked up tight.

He might've been a knife burying itself into her, instead of a man.

Tears stood in the rims of her eyes.

Then he understood.

Ladies and gents of the jury: no marriage should be consummated under duress. Not the way theirs was. And not only the duress of lust. The duress of circumstance: death, loss, revolution. The duress of the past: a red shawl, a temple in flames, a bed won in a game of chance. The duress of the present: the same hands on different bodies; different bodies in the same place.

Duress, and a heaping of self-deception: served piping-hot.

Served to last, because no marriage ever eats its fill.

"Sev—you okay?"

"I'm good. I'm good."

"Sssh. No. Look at me."

He caught her chin. She resisted, except there was nowhere left to run. He saw the tear-tracks cutting down her cheeks. Her chin dimpled like a child's.

In a hitching whisper, she said, "Why?"

"...Why?"

"Why'd you say it?"

"Say what?"

"Her name, bastard! Why'd you say her name?!"

Her tears fell in bright streaks. The rest of her: flushed deep-russet. Not desire, but a hot, raw shame. He felt its echo in the pit of his belly. He was still inside her, but that didn't mean a damn thing. In that instant, he was utterly outside himself. Beyond her, and the dingy room with its rank bedsheets that held too many memories. Beyond anything but his own stupid, thoughtless, unforgivable selfishness.

"Sevika," he began. "I—"

She slapped him.

There was real firepower behind it: his skull sang like a struck tuning fork. It was the one and only time she'd ever strike him. At least, until the last ever time she'd do it, and it'd be a whole lot harder, and he'd deserve it tenfold more. That slap would serve as a premonition; a taste of all the violence they'd visit upon each other, in the years that lay ahead.

The violence of survival. The violence of revolution.

The violence of love, and all the shapes it can twist itself.

[bioticbooty]

not to be dramatic but i would die for kaidan alenko

[lymtw]

Toji can't ignore the sounds of your moans and whimpers through the wall. He's sitting on the couch, in the living room, unable to do anything about it, because you're still mad at him, and he's frustrated as hell, because he's so painfully hard, that he can see his dick twitching against the front of his sweats. He refuses to take care of it himself when he knows you're only a room away. To his convenience, you're already in the mood—clearly—but to his inconvenience, you're punishing him. You're scattering his name into your moans to throw salt in the wound, to really make it unbearable, and truthfully, it's getting to him.

Toji reached his limit when he heard you let out a sharp gasp, followed by the sound of those cries you let out when you cum hard. He strides over to your shared bedroom, opening the door to reveal your naked lower body, and your tank top scrunched up over your chest. His breath hitches, the throbbing in his pants intensifying as he rakes his eyes over your frame and absorbs the entire sight of you.

"You're really gonna get yourself off to the thought of me, when i'm right outside?" His incredulous tone doesn't do a good job of hiding the desperation that led him to barge into the room where you're splayed out so indecently.

"Mhm..." you hum, blissfully. You release a heavy, satisfied sigh. "That's exactly what I just did, 'cause you're on a time out," you say, tugging your shirt back down and pulling up your underwear, before sitting up to search for your shorts. "Don't worry. I finished. I'm done torturing you."

He can't let it be over. This normally wouldn't be enough to satisfy you. From what he heard, it seems like you only came once.

"Baby, no," he almost whines. He's outwardly desperate for you, having gone way too long without being allowed to touch you intimately. "Let me. Please," he says, climbing onto the bed. His hands make contact with the skin of your bare legs and glide over the length of your shins, continuing their way up to part your thighs to make room for him to wedge himself between them.

"I did what you asked of me. Said I was sorry and repeated after you to call myself dumb." It was such a silly moment that made the storm in your mind subside for a minute or two.

Toji resists the urge to smile when he sees you suppressing the curl of your own lips. His hands go to your waist, not stopping there. The warmth of his palms travels up your edges, meeting the sides of your breasts and briefly palming the tops of them, in order to get to your shoulders. He grips your shoulders, using them as leverage to guide you back down to the bed. Focus is embedded into his features as he takes the thin material of your shirt between his rough fingertips and peels it off your skin until he reveals the gorgeous view of one of his favorite parts of your body.

Like a domestic cat, he lays his body on you, and plants his face between your breasts. It doesn't take long for him to begin appreciating your chest, pressing multiple slow kisses to your skin. He's basking in the softness you withheld from him.

"What else do you want from me, doll?"

You let out a small, quiet sigh, through your nose. You feel a little irritated with yourself for not even putting up a fight against his affection. You always say you're not going to let him touch you for a certain amount of time, as punishment for the dumb things he does, and yet somehow it always ends up this way—him nuzzling into your chest.

"I want you to stop being a jealous maniac," you say, the words coming out softer than you intended them to, as you welcome defeat and run your fingers through his soft, dark locks.

"Mm-mm, anything but that," he responds, muffled by your warm skin. His hands caress your body, rubbing your waist and massaging your hips in a manner that would induce relaxation under different circumstances. You can't let yourself fall into that comfort until you've talked things out.

"Toji, you flashed your gun at someone who mistook me for somebody else." You attempt to keep yourself composed in order to communicate the issue efficiently. There's no need to raise your voice when you have him right there, lying comfortably on your chest.

"Mhm, I did that," Toji confirms, before planting a soft kiss on the inner side of your right breast. "The dickwad must have been real blind if he had to get so close." He feels your chest rise with a deep inhale, then hears you let out the breath. With that, he knows you're still upset and he has to further elaborate on his actions. "He had his filthy paws on you and everything. I did what I thought was best to get him to fuck off."

You hum in mere acknowledgment. "Uh-huh, that's definitely the way to go about it. God forbid you verbalize your discomfort before threatening to use a bullet."

You feel a warm puff of air on your chest, similar to the sigh you let out, but less audible, and then a kiss directly between your breasts.

"I was right next to you, ma. He was looking at you in a way that he shouldn't have been. He looked at you the same way that I look at you. You don't need that from anyone else. And that stupid ass thing he said about supposedly feeling like he's seen you somewhere? He clearly said it to get a good look at you from up close."

"You really are insane, aren't you?" You ask, rhetorically, stilling the hand that's on the back of his head.

"Doll, I hate the idea of pulling the gun out in front of you. I don't ever wanna have to use it and scare you in the process, but he was actively trying to steal you from me. If he were just ogling you from afar, I might've acted differently, but he touched you. He fucking touched you. Who does shit like that?"

Toji can feel his blood boiling again, so he refocuses on your chest. He doesn't want to think about what happened anymore, when he's in his happy place, where he knows he belongs.

"Alright, Toji. Take a deep breath." You softened your voice to simmer down his emotions. You resumed the movement of your fingers carding through his hair, aiding him in calming down more.

He does as you say and releases a heavy breath. It's riddled with his discontented feelings. "You're supposed to be mine," he mumbles, before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

Toji needs reassurance, too. Him being an attractive, enormous, hulking man, has nothing to do with how secure he feels around you, his lover. It's easy to think that because he manages to turn heads wherever he goes, that he'll be fine when you get those same reactions, but the way you have him now, is proof that insecurity can reach even him. He needs to know that he's not going to lose you so easily, especially to someone as ridiculous as the man who managed to unsettle him.

You look down at him as he takes all the comfort he needs from your chest. "I'm all yours, Toji. You're the only one who will ever get a pass for that kind of psychotic behavior."

He hums, releasing your breast, before resting the side of his face down on your chest. "You make it sound like i'm toxic towards you."

Your chest jumps as you laugh, a gesture that makes Toji lift his gaze to look at you. Your expression managed to make him lighten up a little more.

"You're crazy, but I love you, regardless."

He groans, the sound cushioned by your soft skin. You're the one thing that holds up his sanity, yet somehow you're also the one who tests it by saying things like that to him.

"Let me have you," he says, his kisses beginning to trail up, towards your neck. "Please, let me have you, mama."

"Are you gonna keep threatening people when you get jealous?" You ask, your lips curling as be continues to kiss your delicate skin.

"Mhm," he confirms. "Like I said and you said," he speaks, into your neck, "you're mine. If people don't know it, i'll make sure they get it on the first go. There's no need to make mistakes."

You laugh. "Your possessiveness is intense."

"You're not a joke, to me," he says, looking at you. His expression is as serious as what he just said.

You grab the rolled up fabric of your shirt, with the intention of covering yourself. The ambience has gone more serious and it feels wrong to be so exposed in the moment.

"Don't cover yourself, yet. I want you, baby. Please." His knuckles graze your cheek, affectionately. Despite your chest being out on full display, his attention is centered on your face. He's reading your expression. You were laughing a few seconds ago and now you're as still as him.

"Be nice to me. I don't want you to be rough, this time." It's back to back gentleness with the way your voice reaches him and your smile manages to soothe the remaining sting he's feeling. It's like you're showing him the way you want him to handle you. "I'm yours, Toji. No amount of speed or aggression from your body against mine, will have an impact on the fact. Okay?"

He keeps his eyes on you for a couple more seconds, like he's letting your words sink in and fully envelop him. He repositions his hand, so that he's cupping your cheek, and a couple slow strokes of his thumb against your skin gave him the courage to lean down and kiss you. The second his lips meet yours, he wants more. Infinitely more. He's chasing kiss after kiss from you, utterly drunk on the feeling of your hands pulling him closer by his shirt. He'll consume you, at this point.

"Hm?" You hum, still awaiting his response.

"Got it, baby," he says, before connecting his lips to yours once more. He peppers the rest of your face with kisses, luring giggles from you at the barrage of affection.

This isn't the first time Toji has been revoked of his 'you privileges', and gotten them back, instantly. This has occurred many times in the years that you've been together. Going into a relationship with him, you never thought he'd be the jealous type, much less the type who would threaten someone's life over getting overly cozy with you. The first time he pulled something similar to this, it was a little frightening. You knew he kept a gun on him sometimes, but you figured it was strictly for life or death situations.

You were wrong.

Some weirdo was getting too comfortable with you, hand wrapped around your wrist and all. You clearly remember Toji being visibly bothered, because someone thought they could just swoop in and steal your focus from him. He watched for a minute or two as the man took in your beauty and complimented you on every aspect of your appearance. He really did his best to get you to follow him to his table, and though Toji thought the whole thing was a pathetic attempt, he couldn't help the feelings that began to bubble up as the man squeezed your arm. Toji did a dog whistle to grab the man's attention, and when he looked, he lifted his shirt, just enough to show the grip of his gun. Your stomach twisted and you felt like your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The stranger just stood there for a second, looking at Toji, condescendingly, as if to insinuate that he knew he was bluffing, and when Toji reached for and grabbed ahold of the gun's handle, that same cocky man paled. He didn't even have to pull out the whole gun—the man had walked away by the time he had the grip in his hand— but you remained worried that he would notify someone about what happened, so you and Toji left.

To this day, Toji still scares people that way when he notices them invading your space in a manner that doesn't sit right with him. You're not scared anymore, when he does it, but the frustration of having to ditch wherever you are, in fear of being ratted out by whoever Toji threatened? It's still there, and you feel it every time. You know he does it out of love for you, but sometimes you wish he would take a second to talk to you, before he even thinks of hurting someone.

Toji has kissed your entire torso, by now. Your chest wasn't exempt from his attention, despite the amount of time he already spent on it. If anything, he refined the love he gave it with purposeful movement and significance towards every spot his lips brushed.

He nears your lower abdomen, wet kisses placed beneath your navel, going lower and lower until you can feel his breath being filtered through the front of your underwear. His hands go beneath the elastic band, cupping your hips without restriction as he kisses your clothed pelvis.

Your breathing picks up the slightest bit when his lips meet your slit through the thin layer. His tongue comes out and he does an experimental swipe of it against the fabric. You feel the space immediately heat up, from your arousal and from the warm wetness of his tongue, itself.

"Stay still for me, mama," he murmurs, kissing your inner thighs after spotting the quiver in them. "You nervous?" He asks, with a small curl of his lips.

"Of course, I am." You look into his eyes as you confirm it. You love him so dearly, that even after the years you've spent together, you still feel lightning coursing through you when he has you this way. This electric feeling doesn't prevent you from letting yourself enjoy what he gives you, nor does it hinder you from touching him and making him feel good. You don't become more hesitant towards him, because by now, you're well aware that your love for him coexists with butterflies. They reside in you, and are able to be lured out by him at any instant, despite your knowledge of the fact that he would gladly be someone's cause of death if they don't keep themselves in check around you.

"Love you," he says, kneading your hips as he leans in to press a few more warm kisses to your thinly veiled cunt. His eyes dart up to your face when you don't respond—he's a little lost on why you didn't say it back— until he sees how despite the way you just admitted to your nerves, he has you entirely at ease. You have a hand flat on the sheets, occasionally moving against the material beneath it, while your other hand rests on your stomach. Your chest is steady and your attention is on the ceiling, your expression serene—ethereally so.

His hands run down your hips, warm palms squeeze and feel up your thighs, gaining your eyes on him again. "You're not gonna say it back?" He asks, his voice deep enough to make the ache between your legs just that much more intense.

"You already know I do," you say, contrasting his demeanor with a giggle. He looks like a needy puppy with that glint that presents itself in his eyes.

"Mhm, doesn't mean I don't wanna hear it, again, or do you not love me, right now?"

You're caught by surprise with that one, a small, almost inaudible gasp, leaving you at the words. "I love you all the time, Toji. I love you now and I loved you earlier when I was pissed. It's not going away."

He's a little more impatient for you, now. His movement doesn't speed up, but his heartbeat is in his ears, and there's a tremble in his hands as he reaches for the elastic of your underwear. He pulls the garment down, wanting to smell and taste you more clearly. His cock jumps at the sight revealed. You're still so wet. He lets out a shuddered breath, now that your lower half is completely bared for him. His mouth comes closer and closer and his tongue comes out, making contact with your throbbing cunt for the first time.

"Toji." The sound is soft—unexaggerated—as his tongue laps at your warmth, tasting the sweet wetness that coats it. He could stay like this for hours, worshipping your entire body, while you touch him and gift him the prettiest sounds ever. He can't get enough of you, which is why when it looks like you're going to close your legs, he pins them down, entirely. His hands splay over your thighs and he keeps them there, because he isn't going to fight to give you the pleasure you deserve. He'll love on you until your body is begging him to stop, because he knows that your mouth can be misleading, at times.

He's taking it slow, just like you wanted him to. The most stimulation comes from him lightly sucking on your clit for brief moments at a time, just to hear your moans get the slightest bit louder. Every time he releases your sensitive pearl, he goes back to running his tongue through your drooling slit, the tip of the muscle nudging your clit, causing it to throb with need. Each graze of the wet warmth, makes you wonder if you should ask him to go faster, though you were the one who asked for this gentleness. You don't want to seem indecisive or come off as doubtful that he can make you cum this way. You know he can, but god, you want so much more. You feel like you're the one who's going insane with every flick of his tongue.

"That good, mama? Or do you want it slower?" He gives you a teasing smirk. Toji knows how you are. You say you want him to be soft and gentle with you, but when the time comes, you want more than what's given to you. You delve into greediness as seconds turn to minutes. You both have nowhere to be. Time is yours, and Toji intends to take advantage of that. He's going to fulfill your needs the way you want him to, but that doesn't mean he loses awareness of your little ticks. He feels the small twitches of your legs beneath his hands every time you feel his nose bump into your clit just before it gets hit by his tongue. He sees the way your hips sink into the mattress and your body quivers when they rise, again.

"G-Good. Don't go any slower," you respond, holding your voice as steady as possible.

"Mm... Faster?" He asks, his tone so calm yet sultry, that you can't tell if he's patronizing you. He doesn't miss the way light flashes, briefly, through your features. In an instant, you regain your composure. A simple hum is offered in response—a wordless brush off of his suggestion. The sound makes Toji smirk. How stubborn of you.

"I won't hold it against you," he says, pressing a kiss to the crease that joins your pelvis and your thigh, leaving an echoing feeling of need in your core. "Just say the word, ma." He presses more kisses to your skin, as if he's trying to persuade you to let him devour you.

"Mm-mm, this is good."

It's not what he's trying to get out of you, but he can keep going until you're hanging on by a measly thread.

He continues on with that same pace—licking, suckling, prodding—so gently, luring the cutest little mewls from you. It took a little longer, but eventually, your body started trembling with impending release.

"I'm gonna- Toji," you cry, tightening your fists around the sheets as he slowly circles his tongue over your clit, focusing on it entirely. Your moans grow needier and needier as you near the edge through such delicateness. The anticipation is killing him. He wants you to be louder. You wouldn't hate him for bringing you more pleasure, would you? It's a risk he's willing to take.

Without another doubt, he's messily making out with your cunt, causing more of your sweet nectar to drool out at a more rapid pace. Your breath hitches, a sharper rendition of his name cried out. Your hand reaches downward and grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging on it as he continues to ravage you. Your moans sound absolutely filthy. He doesn't detach his mouth from you for a single second. His hands finally release their pin on your thighs, allowing you to fully suffocate him when they shut around his head. His arms hook around your thighs, a harsh grip on them to keep you from scooting away from his relentless mouth when you cum. It's another strong, orgasm, that has you arching your back off the mattress and squirming as he continues devouring you through the intense sensation. Your hips roll in an attempt to get more of his mouth on you. Only when you start whimpering and attempting to twist out of his hold, does he ease up. He goes back to the original pace, soft kitten licks through your slit to lap up every drop of your sweetness, earning small twitches from your body, due to the sensitivity you feel.

You release the hold you have on his hair and relax your legs, unbending them and letting them fall comfortably on the bed. He finishes you off with a few kisses, thin strings of his saliva and your cum sticking to his lips, before snapping every time he loses contact with your cunt. His warm palms caress your thighs—a comforting gesture, as your sounds come to a halt and all that is heard is your breathing.

"You're so impatient," you playfully chide, a breathy laugh following.

"You wanted more," he responds, one more kiss placed on you before he licks his lips clean. "I'm really good at reading you."

"Yeah? You think so?" You ask, a teasing grin on your face.

"I know so," he responds. "Wouldn't it just be the worst if we've been together this long, and I didn't know almost everything about you, by now?" He repositions himself, now sitting on his knees to start ridding himself of his own clothes.

You manage a hum and a nod as you watch Toji pull off his shirt.

"Good thing that's not the case, and I do know basically everything about you. Down to the way your body reacts to me— the signals you create that let me know you're gonna cum all over my tongue, when your pretty mouth can't form words."

"So vulgar," you say, through flustered giggles.

"You can take it, mama," he teases, a smirk growing on his lips as you watch him pull off his sweats. His eyes stay on yours, as he kicks them off, letting them slide off the bed and onto the floor, before crawling back between your legs. You can feel his clothed hard-on pressing against your core as he takes your lips in his again. He's addicted to the feeling of your warm body against his.

His hands come down to cup your waist, his fingers molding into the soft flesh with every squeeze they offer. He pauses the make out, small breaths leaving him.

"Baby," he says, his voice almost a whisper, his lustfully darkened eyes narrowed on your starry ones. "I'm gonna kill the next person who hits on you in front of me." He goes back in for a few more quick kisses. "I'm not joking. I can't keep sparing them."

"Shh... All yours, Toji," you murmur, softly, pulling him back in to continue the flow of kisses. Your hand goes to the nape of his neck, the other settles on his shoulder. You hear him groaning quietly into the kisses as he continues grinding his hips into yours.

"Fuck, doll," he groans, pausing his lips on yours once again. "I need you."

You laugh, a warm sound that just adds on to his desire to have you. "So, take me, baby. I'm ready for you."

He gives you one more peck, the slyest smirk playing on his lips as he watches you lean forward for another one, only to be met with nothing.

"Ass," you grumble, playfully shoving his chest.

He chuckles, a deep rumble of a sound as he sits back to remove his boxers. He's not even ashamed of the mess of precum that accumulated in them. If anything, he's surprised he was able to hold in his load this entire time. Pleasantly surprised, because every drop will go to you, as always.

One minute you're sitting up to fully remove your shirt, pulling it up over your head, the next, in what seems like a flash, you're pushed back onto the bed, hands pinned above your head.

You giggle, looking up at him with a lingering smile. "Gentle."

"Mhm," he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck. "So gentle." Two misleading words that don't prepare you for the sensation of his teeth sinking into the crook of your neck.

Your bubbly laughter homes into his ears when his tongue runs over the indentations, luring a huff of a laugh from him.

You feel his cock run through your slick folds, his hips moving back and forth, slowly. Quiet breaths fill the silence that takes over the intimate moment. Toji runs his length through your slit one more time, before finally pushing his tip in. You gasp, feeling his cock begin to drive into you.

"F-Fuck, baby, let me touch you."

"In a minute." He sounds so calm and collected, but you can feel the grip he has on your wrists tighten and the bluntness of his nails pressing into your skin.

"No. Please."

"In a minute," he repeats.

"Pretty please?"

"You're so conflicting, mama. Love that you're begging, but at the same time, you're not listening." His hips draw back and thrust right back into you, his cock filling you up entirely, again.

"Oh fuck. Okay. Please, Toji," you whine.

Toji hums dismissively and picks up a rhythm that manages to get you to stop thinking about your pinned wrists. He lures soft, little moans out of you, listening closely as he plants warm, wet kisses on the side of your face, from your temple to your jaw.

"Just let me be good to you, baby. Alright?"

You hum, nodding your head.

"Yes?"

"Please, yes."

His thrusts become even more precise as he focuses on bringing pleasure to both of you, deep groans and grunts blending together with your higher pitched moans. A few minutes pass and you feel the pressure on your arms ease up, your hands free to roam without restriction. The first thing you do is cup his jaw and bring him in for breathy kisses. You keep your hands on his face and he lets you turn his head in every which way to cover him with kisses. Your affection is intoxicating, and he can't get enough of it. He lets out a breathy laugh when you practically have a make out session with the scar on his lips, your melodic sounds of pleasure released against the strike as he continues to fuck into you. The last kiss you leave on the cicatrix is a big one. One that makes the obnoxious kissy sound and everything. He swipes his tongue over his scar, as if he's trying to catch remnants of the sugar you coated it with.

"Love you," you say, eyes darting over his handsome features and the lovestruck expression they create. You feel the way his hips stutter against you, his abs tensing with restraint before he recomposes himself. You glide your hands up and down his arms and repeat yourself for him. "Love you so much, Toji. I'm yours."

"Fuck— I fucking love you. You're all mine. My baby." He mutters more inaudible curses under his breath, his grip on your waist getting harsher and his thrusts growing quicker, with every sweet confirmation you offer. You whimper, nails digging into his biceps as you withstand the feeling of his cock relentlessly brushing that spot within you that makes you melt beneath him.

"Oh fuck, i'm close." He groans, feeling the way your walls spasm around him at the words. "Yeahhh, you want it, huh, baby? Want my cum?"

A shaky breath leaves you, your face observed up close and personal by Toji, through lust-brimmed, enamored, obsessed eyes. You squirm under all of him— his zoned in attention on you, his touch, his hot, tacky skin, his cock buried inside you—dragging in and out of your soft walls, in a manner that has your toes curling to the brink of actual pain. His fingers find your clit and rub it in rapid circular motions, causing your body to jolt at the sudden intensity of the enhanced pleasure.

You look up at him with your sparkling eyes. "Please... P-Please, Toji? I want it. Want you," you utter, as he brings you closer to your own orgasm.

"Fuck, okay. Okay, baby, gonna give it all to you." His hips pick up their pace a little more and he buries his face into your neck. You can hear the string of grunts and shuddered breaths that pair with his unraveling, right beneath your ear. Deep moans and pants flow past his lips, and his nails begin to leave crescent shapes on your sides. You feel his hot breath on your neck, the open mouthed puffs of air accompanied by the lewd sounds of him filling you with his warm, creamy cum. As he continues rutting into you, riding out every second of his orgasm and then some to get every last drop of his cum into you, he bites your delicate skin, the placement only a few centimeters above where he bit you the first time. He stays there for a few seconds, breathing heavily through his mouth and nose, before he loosens his bite, the gesture transitioning to sloppy kisses over the wet, saliva-coated indentations.

"Cum, doll," Toji mutters, feeling the way your cunt flutters around him when his fingers relocate your throbbing bundle of nerves. Your head sinks back into the pillow, allowing him to drag his kisses up the column of your neck, to feel the vibration of your sounds beneath his lips. Your nails go to his shoulders, dragging across the toned area of muscles, surely leaving behind some scratches. You cry out in utter bliss, your force of an orgasm echoing through your entire being. "There you go, mama," Toji purrs, in response to your body releasing the tension that came with the intensity of your pleasure. You tremble, your small, rapid whimpers and breaths evolving into full blown, unholy moans. "So, so pretty," he drawls out, engraving yet another one of your euphoric expressions into his memory. His fingers leave your clit, and his hips slow down to the point of merely grinding into you, to lure those final little whines out, before stilling entirely.

You shut your eyes to focus on calming your heaving chest for a few seconds, and when you open them again, you have the prettiest pair of green eyes staring down at you. You give Toji a lazy smile and a laugh, a sight that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. His heart races as he absorbs the visuals of your post-orgasm haze. Your luminous eyes devour him, that little satisfied smirk on your face is everything— god, he loves that you laugh even more at the way he can't stop staring at you.

Just like that, Toji is reminded of what got this sight revoked from him in the first place. He still doesn't feel like he's in the wrong for wanting to murder anyone who has far from just friendly intentions with you, but as you caress his face and hold his gaze with that tender look in your eyes, his desire to kill those who openly lust after you, becomes entirely justified in his mind. He's lost all reason to hold back. There's no longer any part of him that would feel remorse or guilt, even if you can't look him in the eyes for days after the matter. He'll grovel as much as he has to, to get you to give him your eyes, again. You'll just have to agree to disagree on this, because yes, you come home to him, you sleep in the same bed as him, you kiss and hold him, the body concealed by your clothes is a secret between you and him, you get tangled up in sheets with him and the lot of it— but he can't risk losing you to someone who's possibly better than him and searching for all the exact things you have to offer. You're for him, as he is for you.

Toji doesn't care how clingy he appears when you finish getting cleaned up and ready for bed. You carelessly toss yourself onto the mattress and pull the blanket over your body while you wait for Toji, who took the steps and walked around the bed to make it to his side. He finds your body beneath the covers and immediately rolls on top of you, adhering himself to you, again. His head rests on your chest, his arms wrapped tight around your body.

You're already prepared to give him the intimate aftercare that comes with days like this. You don't mind that he's heavy and that he's crushing you or that he's taking up all your space, again, after having been so close to you a little while ago. You'll do this as many times as you need to for him to understand that he's wanted and loved by you.

You press a kiss to the top of his head, and murmur a quiet 'love you'. Your fingers run through his damp hair, your nails gently scratching the back of his head, while your other hand rubs his back. You feel the extra warm skin of his shoulders, where you paid no mind to the pressure your nails applied on it, earlier.

"Does that hurt?" You ask, lightly tracing a couple of the mildly inflamed lines. He hums in denial, but you let up, anyway, and continue to just rub his back.

He groans quietly at your soothing touch, nuzzling further into you. "I'm yours, too, ma. All yours," he mumbles. "I don't want anyone else and I don't wanna see you with anyone else."

You smile softly at his admission. "You're more than enough for me, Toji. There's no one I want more than you— no, there's no one I want other than you," you correct. "You know how much I love you?"

"Mm... How much?" He asks, waiting for you to give him a number or even just an elongated 'so much', but instead, you surprise him with:

"I wouldn't be able to tell you."

He chuckles. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. If you want something accurate, I'll never shut up."

"Good thing I like when you talk my ear off. You wanna give me an inaccurate idea of how much?"

You hum like you're in thought, a giggle following when he pinches your waist, encouraging you to tell him. "I love you a lot, Toji. So much more than I will ever be able to say or show. We would have to conjoin our minds for you to understand exactly how much I love you, but even then, once our minds separate, your estimate will be entirely off again."

He lifts his head off your chest, and waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. The moonlight seeping through the spaces between the curtains is the only source of light that allows him to get a mediocre view of you. "That's inaccurate?" He asks, looking at you with clear disbelief when his eyes finally adjust. You nod, smiling through the warmth that spread on your cheeks. "Now, I wanna know how much you love me, with complete accuracy. I have all the time in the world to listen to you, baby. Just keep talking to me." He presses a kiss to your cheek before lying back down on your chest and wrapping his arms around you, again.

You hugged him as tight as you could for a few seconds. The sound of you straining yourself made him laugh, because not only did he not let out a single groan, but you tired yourself out even more. You rested your arms on his back and just shut your eyes. It was the warmth and weight of his body on you, the feeling of his arms keeping you firmly against him, the security, that managed to lull you to sleep. Toji dozing off was simpler than that, because all he needs to be able to sleep soundly, is for you to be around.

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀“WHAT?! SEX BAN?!”

﹅ contains ;; gojo satoru , kento nanami , choso kamo , toji fushiguro , ryomen sukuna , geto suguru

﹅ alt title ;; how long the jjk men can withstand the sex ban

﹅ warnings ;; sorta sub!choso , whiny!choso , toji's part is more explicit than the others , this is my first time writing for some of the character so i'm sorry if i didn't describe them well

GOJO SATORU (3 days)

“are you serious?” gojo groans, slumping forwards. gojo watched in disappointment as you crossed your arms, looking away from him. "you did it so you have to pay." for weeks, you've been trying to tell gojo to separate the colors from the whites while doing laundry. him just wanting to get it over with, he dumped them all in the same load, ruining some of your favorite pieces of clothing.

"baby, please. i won't do it again," he begs, kneeling in front of you. but to no avail, you stood your ground.

it only took him 3 days to convince you to wave your white flag, surrendering to his seduction. "you look good in my shirts." gojo's hands caress your hips as he presses his chest to your back. "i would be in my clothes if you would just listen to me." you huff, "i never said i was disappointed." gojo whispered, his hard-on pressing on your ass.

“please. just drop the ‘sex ban’. i said i was sorry.” his lips make a trail of kisses on your neck. you needed him too. whenever he wasn’t around, you would use your toys, trying to not let gojo know you were sexually needy. but they didn’t work.

RYOMEN SUKUNA (not happening!)

no. just no. it’s funny that you even thought about putting that in motion. sukuna was too desperate for sex but never wanted to admit it.

“no,” he stood above, crossing his arms, making himself seem bigger than you (as if he even needed to do that). “you can’t deprive me of sex, woman.” he grunts. “but i can, kuna. that’s what you fail to realize.” you tut, standing up to walk away.

one of his four arms wraps around your waist, throwing you back on the soft surface. "you're not going through with this." he growls in your ear, crawling go top of you.

how dare you even think such a thing? you were his woman, his twin flame. you were the only person he showed the littlest respect to and you decide to do some foolery like this.

he tugs your shirt over your head, your bra coming next. his rough hands slide over your chest. "such beauty..." he whispers. "i'll make sure you never think of this again.

KENTO NANAMI (it was on accident)

his job was taking him away from you. between being a jujutsu sorcerer and a businessman, he couldn't find time to be a partner for you.

due to the lack of attention you were receiving, you became sexually pent up, having the urge to pleasure yourself at the worst times. the feeling of neglect was creeping up on you. some days, you forgot nanami even lived with you.

"love, i'm home." nanami tugs off his tie, tossing it to the side. "i don't know how long i can take of this." he rubs his temples, deeply sighing as he led himself to your shared bedroom. before his hand touched the cold metal knob, he heard your muffled moans and the squelching of your cunt.

he slowly opens the door, peeking in the room before fully entering. "it seems i've neglected you." he watches as you quickly cover yourself as if he hasn't seen you naked many times. he unbuttons the top of his shirt as he saunters to the edge of the bed, removing the covers off you.

"seems like i have some things to make up for."

CHOSO KAMO (not even a day)

"please." he whines, his head resting on your lap as he looks up at you. ever since you shared your first time with choso, he's been going at it with you like rabid dogs. if he wasn't inside you, his head was squished in between his thighs.

"choso, i need a break." you sigh, trying to remove him from off you. his grip on your legs was tight as he put his face in between your thighs, shaking his head. he was acting like he couldn't survive without your cunt somehow being involved.

"i swear, i'll leave you alone after. just please," he whined. you couldn't resist him for much longer. you hated when he got all whiny like a baby. he was spoiled because of you.

"fine." you undo the tie of your sweatpants before his hands swatted yours away, tugging your pants and panties off. "i promised you." he kisses your inner thigh before his tongue began flicking away.

TOJI FUSHIGURO (mans was balls deep in you the second you said it)

"you really think so?" he darkly chuckles, rubbing himself on you. "toji, i'm sorry. please." you whine, wiggling your ass on his cock. "i don't think you are." he teases, stepping away from you.

you whine, following him. "it was a joke." you press your hand on his chest. "did i laugh?" he tilts his head, smirking at you. you sigh, "toji, i'm sorry." you press yourself against him, your chest touching his.

"fuck." you knew he couldn't resist the feeling of your chest on him. it was like heaven to him. "turn around." he grunts, gripping your hips to turn you around, bending you over.

he easily slid inside of you due to how wet you got over time. "don't say stuff you don't mean, baby." he laughs, thrusting into your backside. it was worth it.

GETO SUGURU (you gave in after implementing it)

you wanted to test geto's limits, giving him an extra nnn moment which made you realize something. it was always you initiating sex. "geto, please. i give up." you whine, following him around the house.

he chuckles, "everyone must deal with their consequences, my love." he turns to you. he plastered a sinister smile, taunting you. he saw how much you needed him but he wasn't caving in until he heard you say it.

"i'll do anything. my hand isn't even working anymore." you simper. it was starting to become frustrating seeing how calm he was about all of this as you were suffering.

"i need you! is that what you wanted to hear?" you shout, earning a grin from him. he walks closer to you, his finger tracing your jawline, "why didn't you say that sooner, love?" he chuckles.

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the jjk men coming back home to their lovely housewife after a rough day at work <3

tags. satoru, suguru, toji, sukuna x housewife!female reader (separately). fluff, mostly smut. size difference for all of em. manhandling here n there. p in v -> unprotected. crēampies. brēēding themes. half asleep when writing this—apologies for any grammar errors

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔. dry humping, cūmshot, reader gets called ‘angel, baby’.

“mmmh.. ya smell like cookies,” satoru sighs as he hugs you from behind, lightly swaying your bodies back and forth in a romantic dance. you had jazz playing in the background while you were baking some cookies, completely relaxing in the comfort of your home.

you got somewhat startled when satoru first appeared behind you, his arms sneaking around your waist. you scolded him—though were quickly soothed back into a loving mood when he kissed your neck and enveloped you in his embrace.

satoru can’t help but to let his urges take over. having his pretty little wife in his arms in that apron he bought, is doing unspeakable things to his body. his hands roam all over your torso until they stop to fondle your breasts.

“no no,” your husband swirls his tongue around your ear as his hands squeeze your chest from underneath your shirt. “continue what you’re doing, angel. let your hubby do what he needs to do, ‘kay?”

you’re used to the usual routine by now; satoru coming home, spoiling you with either gifts, food or his affection before relieving his stress on you. satoru never leaves you sexually frustrated—ever.

“kay,” you nod and just continue to work on the batter for your next batch of chocolate chip cookies. it’s difficult to concentrate when satoru’s warm breath sends shivers down your spine. his tongue slithers from your ear to your neck, unapologetically leaving hickeys. he always makes sure to give you them. you’re his and he needs to keep reminding you of that fact.

“fuck, baby,” satoru’s breath hitches once he feels your hips jolt back against his groin. his fingers brushing against your sensitive nipples was all it took for you to get worked up. you whimper his name under your breath—body squirming in his arms.

satoru bites your earlobe gently, his own hips not able to stay still for another second. he rolls his lower body against yours from behind until you can feel the imprint of his hardening erection pressing against your ass. you grind back against him, to which satoru responds by tweaking your swollen nipples, “such a naughty fuckin’ wife i have.”

your husband is on the edge of just cumming into his pants without any shame. he’s done so before when in your presence—the dry humping always gets to him. it’s a weakness of his that he isn’t good at hiding. he rubs his huge bulge right between your sweet and plump asscheeks, getting off from the feeling.

“gonna make me cum in my pants,” satoru whines and his slender fingers dig into the fat of your breasts even more. he’s needy for you, for every part of you. the fact that you’re sweet enough to accept what he gives you is driving him to the brink of insanity. he tries to stop himself, though to no avail, “shit— don’t wanna— need to cum inside of y—”

a string of whimpers leave satoru’s mouth and his hips spasms against your ass, pressing you against the kitchen counter as he gives one last thrust forward. “my god,” satoru breathes against your nape, his throat dry as he imagines that it’s your warm cunt swallowing every drop of his cum instead of his boxers.

you turn your head to look at satoru behind you. “are you okay, hubby?” you ask through soft breaths. the white-haired man shivers at your smooth voice which makes him press the bulge in his pants against your behind even tighter. you can feel a certain wetness starting to form on the front of your lover’s pants.

“yeah, totally fine,” satoru breathes out, trying to stay cool, calm and collected. he’s trying his best not to ravage you right now. he’s throbbing—blood flowing into his cock again already. you’re the only one who could trigger such sensual reactions from him.

satoru pats your ass a couple times, letting his wet tip rub against your folds through his pants;

“just wish i could’ve bred y’r cunt instead. fuck—can i? need to pump my pretty girl full before i go insane.”

𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔. on the table top lol, reader gets called ‘sweetheart, darling’

suguru always makes a beeline towards you after he gets home. it’s tough being a cult leader—having to ‘treat’ people who come begging him for help. having to exorcise those curses that haunt those incompetent buffoons.

all of it is exhausting to the sorcerer. and what better way is there than to find solace in the presence of his stay at home wife?

“sweetheart,” suguru shows you that handsome smile of his the moment he steps into the living room, “need some help?” his eyes dart down at you on your knees, manually scrubbing a spot underneath the couch that was hard to reach. his gaze is focused on the arch of your back, how your ass sticks up as you complain about you’re inability to reach that spot in the corner.

“no, ‘tis fine,” you sigh and give up. you sit up straight on your knees and finally look at suguru. you didn’t expect him to stand so close to you in under a second, his hands reaching for you the moment he comes into your vision.

before you know it, you’re stripped from your shorts and panties. your back is on top of the nearest dining table and suguru’s standing right between your spread legs. he reveals his stiff cock after unzipping his pants and gives it a good few pumps as he looks you up and down, “i’ll fuck the frustration out of you, yeah? don’t you worry, darling.”

a win-win situation; suguru gets to take care of his needs and you get to forget about your exhaustion from all the household chores. your back arches off the surface and your eyes widen the second you feel his dick invade your tight pussy.

“mmh, yeah— that’s it,” suguru grunts, not able to take off his eyes from your wet folds as his cock disappears between them with each thrust. he starts off slow, allowing you to get used to the feeling of being stretched out, “you’re doing so well. you deserve this and so much more.” you appreciate the little things your husband does to make sure you stay comfortable throughout the entire process.

“suguruu,” you moan out his name, to which he responds with a short hum. your nails dig into his muscular back with every move—each time his tip taps that sweet spot deep inside of you. suguru kisses the inside of your upper arm before moving up to place a peck on your forehead.

“mhm, such a good little wife,” he sighs in content and fails to contain those noises of pleasure. you catch the faint grunts and moans that leave his lips between heavy breaths. suguru’s completely blessed to have you be his forever lover, “thank you for taking care of the house today as well.”

your stomach fills with butterflies because of his smooth tone. suguru’s calm yet hoarse voice ringing in your ears makes you want to burst already. the long-haired man punctuates his thrusts with pecks on your cheeks—kissing you after each slow yet harsh hip thrust.

your teary eyes meet his and you’re completely mesmerised by the way he looks at you. your husband is careful about the way he treats you, especially during intimate moments where you’re the most vulnerable.

though at the end of the day, he’s also but a man. seeing his gorgeous wife underneath him as he’s drilling into her will make him lose it. no doubt. all suguru wishes to do is to make that belly of yours expand with his love—his cum;

“hold onto me, sweetheart. i’m going to go a bit harder on you today, is that okay? yeah? good girl, take it for me.”

𝐅. 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈; mating press, reader gets called ‘doll, wife, ma.’

assassin work is not for the weak. you know it, toji knows it. he always comes back home late at night. sometimes he doesn’t return home for days on end. you’re constantly living in fear that your husband may never return. even as toji reassures you that he will, every day.

“were ya worried again, doll?” toji asks as he tries to console you. you had been crying, he could guess by the dried tears on your cheeks. it’s around three in the morning and he had returned from yet another mission. only to find you still up.

“you promised you’ll stop doing such dangerous work,” you hiccup, trying your best not to cry again. toji sighs and turns your face so he could look you in the eye. he can’t help the tingle of excitement that runs down his spine—you’re adorable when you’re upset, “i did, didn’t i?” toji nods as his callused hand runs up and down your side.

he feels guilty every single night. he’s going to quit his job for your sake, though first, he has to save up some money that would last you a couple months. toji hates seeing you in distress about him and thus always tries to distract you.

by pleasuring you until you’re unable to think about nothing but him.

“i’ll make it up to ya,” toji grunts the moment he has your legs up in the air, your body nearly folded in half underneath his bigger one. he loves this position solely because he can see every change in your facial expressions. “c’mon, wife,” the dark-haired man mumbles, his eyes glued to your bouncy breasts and pouty lips, “told ya not to worry too much ‘bout me, yeah?”

you nod, knowing you should trust your husband. he’s never once broken his promises of coming back home to you. so, you simply let go and moan his name repeatedly as his tip kisses the deepest parts of your insides. “i—i trust you,” your tongue rolls out due to how well toji’s pounding you into the mattress.

toji grins at the sight. just a couple thrusts and you’re gone—completely cockdrunk without a worry in sight. he lets out a moan at the way you’re holding onto him so desperately, like you don’t want him to go. “fuck, keep that up ‘n i’m gonna knock you up, ma,” toji hisses. he can’t keep himself from cumming right inside of your cunt if it keeps on squeezing him.

you can’t even respond due to his thrusts knocking the wind out of your lungs. you can only babble about how deep he is and how you’d love to carry his kid. toji’s on cloud nine as he hears you confess your desires to get impregnated by none other than him;

“mmh, don’tcha worry, ‘m g’nna make you a momma soon enough. that way y’ won’t be lonely no more when i’m gone. gonna give you a kid so that you’ll always have a piece of me around—heh.”

𝐒. 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍; heian era. degradation. cunnilingus. reader gets called ‘woman, brat,’

all you can do when sukuna isn’t around, is bore yourself to death. you hang out with your lady-in-waiting or with the cats walking around the estate. sometimes you go visit markets or other beautiful places right outside of the area, but that’s all there is to it.

though, when sukuna returns from his duties, you’re always happily welcoming him back. you’re the first one to greet him and lead him to a place of relaxation. that place being your shared bedroom. sukuna’s hungry eyes that are focusing on the way your clothes fit around your curves tell you more than enough.

“where ‘s my dinner, woman?” the king of curses’ deep baritone nearly makes you shake. you watch as he sits back against the headboard of the bed, his expression stoic yet amused. you know he doesn’t mean real food—he means you.

you’re his dinner.

you take the hint and slowly undress yourself, a strip tease to make sukuna excited about what’s to come. however there are more consequences to teasing him, as he isn’t a person known for his patience.

“stop wriggling,” sukuna scoffs against your wet cunt not a minute later. your clothes are ripped off your body and your legs are wrapped around his head. you can’t stay still when sukuna’s tongue is quite literally devouring you.

you moan out his name loudly, just the way he likes it. sukuna grins against your wet folds, letting the tip of his tongue roll up and down your slit while his thick finger lazily stimulates your clitoris. “got a fuckin’ brat as a wife,” sukuna delivers a harsh slap against your sensitive cunt after cupping it with one big hand, “stay still, i said.”

you squeal at the rough contact. you attempt to listen to your husband, but your body doesn’t allow it. your sticky thighs keep shaking and your hips keep jerking upwards against his mouth. his wet tongue slobbering all over your pussy is a clear sign of just how much sukuna looks forward to coming home—to watch you beg for mercy when he goes too far.

“delicious,” sukuna pants as he dives deeper into your folds, burying his entire face against your cunt. he sniffs your scent and simultaneously enjoys the taste of your wet juices. you’re all he needs after a frustrating day of taking care of duties back to back.

one of his hands brushes against your lower abdomen to keep you pinned to the bed. you grab the wrist of that hand and hold onto it for support. sukuna groans at the sight of you trying so hard to not cum on spot from his actions.

he speeds up the movements of his tongue and his big hand squeezes your tummy a little in the meantime;

“i think i’ll go for a second round of dessert after this one, ey? what’d ya think? wanna let everyone know that you, your cunt and your whole body is all mine—so i’ll probably fuck ye so good y’re gonna be heard all ‘round the estate.”

[pandoraspurgatory]

Thinking about Canon!Bakugo Katsuki in the bedroom…

I don’t think he’d be a talker during sex, but a lot of grunts and the occasional muffled moan as he buries himself deep inside you. This isn’t because he doesn’t want to talk to you, he just struggles on maintaining his rhythm if trying to form sentences.

Katsuki would use your first name when fucking you. He can’t stand pet names and would more rather implode than call you ‘mamas’. He doesn’t even use first names for his closest friends - so when he calls you by your first name it’s an intimacy thing.

Dominant and rough sex is enjoyable for Katsuki of course. Though his absolute favourite is intimate and somewhat vanilla fucking. Even though he’s working on it, he’s still often angry and aggressive in his daily life. It’s therapeutic for him to take his time with you and enjoy each moment.

Once you get on contraceptives, Katsuki will almost always cum inside you. Since the very first time you let him release in your tight walls he was an addict for that shit. If he’s feeling extra horny he won’t hesitate to cum all over your face and watch it dribble down onto your soft tits.

Katsuki fucking adores getting head. He’s thoroughly convinced nothing is more erotic than watching you dribble and drool all over his cock, only to then face fuck you until he’s shooting ropes down your throat. Especially if your makeup runs down your face, that gets him going.

Katsuki hated the idea at first, though he is slowly incorporating toys into the bedroom. Particularly enjoying holding a high intensity vibrator to your clit until your soaked the sheets through to the mattress. He isn’t yet comfortable enough to aquire toys for himself, though isn’t fully against the idea.

When Katsuki does decide to be rough with you, count sitting down comfortably out for the next few days. He will rotate between doggy and the mating press while continuing his assault on your cervix, spanking your ass each time you cum without his permission. He likes to add small sparks from his palms when he spanks you.

Adding to that, Katsuki is a sucker for edging you. Orgasm denial is his biggest kink due to him being a control freak in and out of the bedroom. He will get you close with his fingers half a dozen times before stopping right before you climax. If you do cum during that time, he’s got a whole lotta punishments waiting for you.

[amaranthinespirit]

simon riley has an obsession on showering with you.

you can never shower alone when this man is home. it is literally impossible. whenever the knob is turned and water is spewing from the shower head, it's like shaking a bag of treats because without fail, he'll stomp across the house.

but he's silent about it, somehow, despite his size. he'll creep up behind you, the bathroom door left open because it's just you two in the house, and find his arms around your waist.

he would press kisses to your bare shoulder, unironically mumble into your skin, "showerin' wit'ou me, luv?" his voice low and gruff, his hands wandering and pawing at your bare flesh before taking a step back to pull his shirt over his head.

usually, showers with simon go one of two ways.

the first of the two is when you've had a particularly rough day, desperately in need of a hot shower to rid your muscles of all the tension in your body.

so when simon enters the bathroom, your body more rigid than normal when he finds himself attaching to your back, he knows not to fuck with you. he learned this the hard way.

instead he'll massage your sore muscles, peppering soft kisses along your shoulders before helping you into the shower. he'll wash your hair for you, nails gently scratching at your scalp. he chuckles, a sound rumbling deep in his chest as he watches your eyes flutter shut and a low hum vibrate from your lips. his thumbs massaging either side of your temple before rinsing the suds from your hair.

he'll turn you around, your back flush against his broad chest as he lathers soap along your skin, muttering praises in your ear as his hands non-sensually rub your skin clean.

helping you back out, he wraps a towel around your wet skin, making sure that it's firmly around your body before turning his back to run a hot bath for you to relax in, a well-known routine at this point.

a few minutes pass, the bath is hot and full. he holds out his hand for you to take, helping you step into the bathroom and taking the towel from you. he loves the sighs that fall from your lips, the way you lay back further into the water as he finds himself sitting on the edge. his hand reaching for your hand as he rubs the strands between the pads of his fingers.

he'll listen to your day, only humming in response as he lets you be the one to do all the talking.

then there's the other times you shower with simon. the times when you aren't a heap of stress, body malleable under his rough hands as he fondles your skin. you haven't even stepped into the shower yet, and he's already got his paws on you.

and it gets worse in the shower. he constantly hovers over you, to the point where you can't even wash up as he rubs his cock between your thighs, your folds parting alongst his length.

he'll hum appreciatively, his forearm crossed against your collarbone, his other hand groping your breast, fingers pinching at the sensitive bud. his lip quirks at the soft mewls falling from your lips, his hips slapping against the plush of your rear.

depending on how he's feeling, he'd either have you on your knees in front of him, his body blocking the onslaught of water cascading down onto the two of you. his hand tangled in your soaked hair with your plush lips wrapped around the leaking head of his red, angry cock, soft, pink tongue licking away his arousal.

he won't make it that easy because it wasn't long until he was down your throat, blood further rushing to his dick as he saw the way your throat bulged because of him. grunts and groans falling from his lips as he thrust his hips further, your nose grazing the skin as the base of his heavy cock and his balls lightly slapping your chin.

saliva leaked from your lips, choking slightly as you looked up at him with tear pricked eyes. he loved the way you felt around him, the way your throat constricted and squeezed him, especially as you gagged on him.

but he's not mean, he'll praise you for taking him so well, the hand in your hair coming down to stroke your cheek, trailing down your jaw. he'll come down your throat, deep moans he couldn't hold back escaping his lips.

or he'll have you pressed against the shower wall, faced smushed into the cold tile. it made you shiver, your nipples hardening as his rough hand was less than gentle rubbing at your weeping cunt. his fingers pinched at your clit, sticky arousal coating his skin.

it wasn't long until he sank himself into your velvety walls, giving you no time before he was plowing his hips into your welcoming cunt. his meaty cock stretching out your walls, bulbous tip kissing your cervix, you're sure it's bruised.

both of his hands are around your throat, pulling you back to meet him halfway as he feels the vibrations of your moans under his palms. his pace is relentless and violent, pent-up.

and he does not last long, he doesn't try to when he has you all to himself for later.

there are no cons to showering with simon, especially since he's able to put up with the scalding, volcanic temperature you put the water to!

[neo-nomatrix]

HAWK TUAH !

jjk men during a bl0w!e

MULTIPLE X READER

-> GOJO, SUKUNA, CHOSO, GETO, NANAMI, TOJI

cw: bj stuff. cum play (kinda idk) rough characters. dirty talk. degradation. choking

GOJO SATORU AKA HEAD PUSHER

Soooo needy it’s insane. He’s so desperate to feel every inch of your soft warm mouth. he promises to let you do your thing but as soon as you wrap your lips around the tip his hands fly to your head and his hips snap. he’s muttering apologize as he pushes you down until your nose touches his skin. he throws his head back and moans open mouthed like a slut.

he’ll get so caught up in the moment he keep you down there for like 30 seconds just grinding his hips into your mouth. let’s you up when you pinch his thigh. you will be coughing and your face will be covered in spit by the end. he lovess facials and always rubs the cum in using his tip. he keeps a photo of you with his cock on your face and cum in your mouth as his wallpaper.

“s-shit baby… deeper, little more”

“you can take it, i know you can baby”

“just make me feel good okay?”

RYOMEN SUKUNA AKA THROAT DESTROYER

uhm yeah… what did you expect. does not give a shit about you when his cock is in your mouth. keeps you at the edge of the bed with your head hanging off and his fucking your mouth like a fleshlight. goes so deep his cock is showing in your throat. your gags make him want to go another round. plugs your nose when you’re deep throating so you can’t breath.

“until my jaw locks” yeah he took that as a challenge. loves tying you up with a low vibrator on your clit while he fucks that mouth as torture. you honestly don’t know if you love it or hate it. Sukuna loves it though, that’s for sure. cums deep in your throat, every time. will face fuck you again if he sees you didn’t swallow it all.

“fuck gag on that dick, bitch”

“i can see my cock in your throat! but who’s surprised?”

“you better swallow my seed… it’ll probably reach your stomach with how deep i am”

CHOSO KAMO AKA WHINY B!TCH

again, who’s surprised. he thought handjobs were great… but this? whole different level. you start but sucking on the tip until he’s sensitive. then you lick stripes up and down his veins. you use soo much spit and he loves it. he loves it when you press kisses to his cock and then deep throat it.

hes mesmerized by the way your head moves, the way your lips look. he has to force himself to not throw his head back so he can see you. one time he got ahead of himself and snapped his hips up and you choked on him, best day of his life. when he found out your throat felt like that? no going back. he begs you to deep throat him all the time.

“more… more more more. please baby!”

“remember how good i eat you out? please treat me good”

“i know it’s too deep! im sorry i can’t stop baby”

SUGURU GETO AKA NICE N SLOW

just into good old fashioned blowjobs. your hand kept at the base and your lips move up and down his shaft. he wants your tongue swirling over it like a lollipop. he brushes your hair out of your face to see your expressions. he’s so gentle and nice when it comes to blowjobs.

let’s you grind on his leg while you suck him off. mostly uses it as foreplay and not a main way to get off. likes for your spit to act as lube for him to slide in. if he was gonna cum from a bj it would be on your tits. he loves that.

“fuck keep that up and i’ll cum”

“let it get hard in your mouth… that’s right”

“don’t give me those innocent eyes, slut”

NANAMI KENTO AKA UNDER THE DESK

oh you’ll support your working man, from under the desk. he’s so stressed about work these days and you have just the solution! you showed up to his home office in skimpy lingerie and without saying a word you crawl under his desk and get to work. he gets so flustered so fast, blushing and stuttering about how his report is due.

grips the chair so tight when you start working your magic. he doesn’t want to thrust up because he knows he’ll bruise your throat. uses his belt to wrap around your neck and guide you instead. pulls your hair an insane amount. cums in your mouth but likes to watch it pour out onto your body.

“i’m working baby… you’ll get me too distracted”

“wrap that belt around your neck, be a good assistant”

“is this you saying thank you for being my sugar daddy?”

TOJI FUSHIGURO AKA TWO HANDS

he’s so big you need to use your hands or else he might pop out on the other side of your neck. you’re moving your hands and your mouth at a similar pace. he definitely teaches you how he wants it. he guides your head to a good rhythm and then lets you do your thing.

maybe he’ll have a cigarette hanging out his mouth when you suck it. blowing smoke in your face to tease you. definitely makes fun of the fact that you can’t take all of him. your jaw has to be open so wide to get him in. cums everywhere, your face, throat, tits. doesn’t matter, if it’s you he’ll cum there.

“don’t just move your hands up and down baby, turn em”

“your face looks so fucking small next to my dick!”

“c’mon, try harder to take it or else i’ll force you to”

[sunsetsimon]

blue collar simon ♡ because i'm going insane

pt 2 here

☼ he's waking up around 4:30am most days, due to starting at a new job site that gives him a longer commute. he's grumbly when his alarm blares, quickly turning it off and sitting on the edge of the bed for a minute to stare off and come to. his footsteps are quiet as he heads to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and giving his face a rinse to clear it from sleep. simon makes sure to keep his hair short, only needing to run his fingers through it to tame a few wild pieces that stick up on the side.

☼ most mornings you get up with him, his alarm waking you up even with as quickly as he turns it off. "go back t'sleep love," he leans over, cupping your cheek lovingly as you try to blink the sleep out of your eyes.

"gonna pack your lunch si," you say, so quietly he almost doesn't hear you. he knows better than to argue though, you're already up and nothing is better than having you help him get ready for his long day.

you slip on one of his hoodies on your way downstairs, practically swimming in the fabric as it rests on your mid thighs, hands covered in the long sleeves. his heart swells, you look so cute when you're tired and stubborn, refusing to let him leave without a proper lunch.

☼ he's not able to talk much throughout the day with how busy he is. sometimes you only get a quick 2 minute call while he's scarfing down his lunch, complaining about how their project manager was being a dick that day.

"'right babe. gettin' back to it so i'll call you when i'm leaving, whenever the fuck that'll be."

"okay si. i love you, be careful."

"always am. love you."

sometimes you get lucky with a random picture of something on the site, having no idea what it is you can only respond with a "what am i looking at?"

"fuckin' dumbass rookie can't mark out a straight line to save his fuckin' life."

whatever the hell that means. simon thinks it's funny though.

☼ comes home with new cuts and bruises everyday, the wrap on one of his fingers soaked with dirt and blood. his hands are cut up and scarred, calloused and rough to the touch but you still love them, those hands provide everything for you. you're constantly having to remind him to clean under his nails after a long day though, refusing to be touched until they're squeaky clean.

☼ he never gets home at the same time, a supposed-to-be 10 hour shift can quickly turn into a 12 or 13 depending on how much work needs to be done. not a week goes by when he doesn't have overtime, and though he makes a lot of money, he's fucking exhausted when he gets home. lazily unlacing and kicking his boots off at the door while coming in, practically with a limp, his knees and feet fighting to not give out from pure exhaustion.

still finds the energy to shove his dirty hands under your shirt though when he catches you at the stove preparing him a plate. his unkempt stubble scratches your neck as he inhales your clean, addicting scent. planting soft kisses along the skin, you almost melt into him until you smell him, dust and sweat clouding your nose.

"ugh simon! you can't be all over me while you're dirty," you whine, trying to pull away from his tightening grip on your hips.

"can't help it when y'look so damn good. missed you all day," he grumbles, pulling your ass back against his growing bulge in his work pants, thrusting against you through layers of clothing.

"eat and take a shower first, then we can talk," you give him another shove - much to his dismay. apparently he wasn't as tired as he thought.

[yawnderu]

>Simon has a neet weirdo as a best friend Or Simon Riley lets his best friend see his naked body for art references.

This wasn't the way Simon was expecting to spend his PTO; naked in his best friend's bed with his hand covering his soft cock, hoping not to make you uncomfortable as you took notes of his body's reactions.

“Can you like... get hard?” He was trying his best not to get hard, going as far as to think about gross things he's seen throughout the years to distract himself from the feeling of your nails raking up and down his bare stomach, defined muscles tensing and bulging beneath your palm.

“'S not how it works.” He grumbled out, tired brown eyes looking away from you. Simon isn't embarrassed— not at all, he's simply not used to someone inspecting him the way you are, curious eyes fully focused on his body, taking in every single tattoo and scar, living proof of how many times he's kicked death's ass.

“Well, just think about... I don't know, tits.” He lets out a dry chuckle at the awkwardness in your tone, trying your best to keep it professional in the name of art. He looks down at you with pure amusement the moment he sees your hand drifting up, tracing the outline of his defined, muscular pecs.

You take a second to fully admire the view in front of you, absent-mindedly starting to play with his erect nipple, not registering the way his breath hitches. Simon looks like a gladiator— lightly tanned skin making his rippling muscles stand out greatly, becoming the virtual image of ancient Greek fantasies, a plethora of scars showing how often he crosses the edge of death.

“Gettin' a bit touchy there.” His playful tone doesn't save the mild embarrassment, about to let go of his nipple before his rough, calloused hand grasps your wrist, encouraging you to keep touching him.

“'S working.” Simon's other hand moves out of the way slightly, just barely enough for you to see his hardening cock, veins starting to become more prominent along his long, meaty shaft. He doesn't protest when you move his hand out of the way, getting a perfect look at him.

“That's... oddly interesting.” The awkwardness coming from you never fails to amuse him, only making his ego inflate by the second, even when you look down at your notebook to keep taking notes of his body's reactions.

“Does it feel weird to get a boner?” He thinks about it for a few seconds before shaking his head, holding back a laugh at the blunt questions. In the name of art, she says.

“Not weird, just... I don't know, bird.” The expectant look that you give him distracts him for a second, trying to think of a better way to explain it.

“Feels good. Bit tingly most of the time, and you can feel it... y'know, grow.” Explaining what getting a boner feels like isn't the weirdest thing he's done for you, half-lidded brown eyes focused on the way you simply nod and keep taking notes, using his words as inspiration for the erotic novels he knows you write.

The room is almost quiet for a few minutes, Simon's breathing becoming harder being the only sound, feeling your soft hands caressing every single inch of his skin, feeling him up more than he can take... and ultimately edging him without even being aware, stopping to take notes every once in a while.

“I can show you how a man jacks off, too. For the sake of art, yeah?”

[atrwriting]

thinking about logan only being soft with you.

when you first met him, you didn't think there was a soft bone in that man's body. all broken glass and rough edges, forced to tip-toe around trauma that you couldn't see and he wouldn't talk about. he was like that with everyone, though - and that's what you tried to tell yourself when it bothered you when he didn't return a hello, a smile, a wave...

until he did.

it was at night, after a long day. the rest of the crew that day was asleep and had been for hours. you sat in the kitchen - staring at nothing, and thinking about nothing - with a glass of whisky in hand. you weren't supposed to have it, especially not where the students could access it - but after a day like today? you figured it could slide.

logan had ventured in not too long after, much to your surprise. you didn't know he had trouble sleeping, even though you probably should've. you don't have rage like that without chasing ghosts everyday. he ignored your presence (no surprise there), and went straight for the fridge.

he usually ignores greetings, but would he ignore whisky?

"want something stronger?" you asked with his back turned to you.

he stayed still and silent for a moment, then cocked the side of his head over your shoulder.

when he brought over his own glass, you filled it with three fingers worth. you didn't want to bother him with small talk, especially after he had pounded his glass and you refilled it. he wasn't in much of a mood to talk, and you weren't in much of a mood for him to glare at you if you asked the wrong question. the silence wasn't the slightest bit comfortable, but you both had too many ghosts behind your eyes it seemed t see what the other had to share.

when you finished your glass, you slid the bottle towards him. "i'm heading to bed. finish it, if you want - or lock it up when you're done."

he only nodded in response, the day's exhaustion weighing heavy in his eyes.

after you had retreated back to your room, a few minutes or so had passed before you heard a knocking at your door. you were wearing your pajamas - shorts and a tiny sweatshirt - but at this hour? you were only worried if a student was hurt or needed help.

to your relief - and dismay - logan appeared when you opened the door.

"returning this," logan grunted, handing you the bottle.

"thanks," you spoke.

he stood there for a few moments after he nodded, silent, and you weren't sure why. maybe it was the whisky, maybe it was the lack of sleep... you weren't sure. in your case, it was both - and both were the reasons you asked, "do you... want to come in?"

he kept his brow lowered, but his gaze flicked up to meet yours. you barely interacted with him... you didn't know what he was thinking, and you figured he couldn't tell what you were thinking.

"it's hard sleeping alone," you admitted, holding his gaze.

his jaw tightened as he slowly nodded, understanding greeting his features. he followed you into your room, shutting the door behind you. he stripped himself down to his boxers and white tank top, and you tried not to stare. he was so damn handsome, but you couldn't make this weird. you just couldn't. sometimes talking didn't do anything, especially not when two broken people just want to be held.

when you both slipped beneath the sheets, your back turned to him, you pulled the sheets over the both of you. he settled in behind you, wrapping a strong arm around your midsection, tugging you up and against his strong chest. your ass rested on his thick thighs, and all you could feel was heat. not the heat that a space heater, blanket, or shower provided - but real heat. the kind that cured loneliness when you're not sure who you're missing. the kind that doesn't make the bed feel so big and empty when you have to get through the next day. the kind that makes you forget about every single fucking ghost you struggled to forget and remember at the same time...

and when he tucked his head into the crook of your neck, the feeling of his soft breaths sent shivers up and down every nerve ending. it was okay. everything was okay. you could feel it - it was tangible, and nothing and no one could take that away from you. bumps rose on every inch of your skin, but you welcomed the foreign feeling. your heart was blooming with adrenaline and excitement, but the exhaustion and the comfort was stronger. for the first time in what felt like forever - there was peace, and you almost couldn't believe it came in the form of the least peaceful man you had ever had the pleasure and displeasure of becoming acquainted with.

you rested your arm on top of his as you scooted back into him, letting your eyes drift closed. "goodnight, logan."

he pulled you closer. "goodnight, darlin'."

------

"goodnight moon" lolololololool -L xoxox