#but i had slight swellings where his teeth met my skin

[touchedbydestiny]

my cat bit me lightly today and now i'm anxious that it will infect >.<

[chocolilies]

─── SWEAT. ꒱

( ୨ৎ. fushiguro toji x fem!teacher!reader. . .ᐟ

toji comes to pick megumi up from his training, expecting to be met with his white-haired asshole of a teacher, only to meet gojo's newer, cuter replacement.

◟ꪆ୧ slight nsfw (toji stares at reader's tits, reader imagines getting groped by him), au where toji is alive + takes care of megumi, bold yet sneaky flirting, megumi's in middle school. wrote this on a whim bc i need toji BAD.

w.c: 1.6k

also on ao3 + jjk masterlist !

“that’s your dad?”

you’d heard mention of fushiguro toji before, whether it be from his son or from gojo as he had explained how he’d let the “sorcerer killer” live under the promise of taking care of the boy that was now standing at your side. 

“don’t you dare.”

megumi gritted his teeth as he watched you goggle at the man you were approaching, hand wrapped around your wrist as if he was pulling back a dog on a leash, and by the way you were staring at toji, he might as well have been. 

“what!?” you let out an offended gasp, turning to look at your glaring student, tiny face scrunched up in disgust at the mere thought of what was going through your brain. 

“i know what you're like.”

you froze in your place, horrified expression framing your sweaty face as the cicadas roared around you, framing the silence after that comment in an almost comedic manner. 

you watched as megumi continued to walk ahead, a bored look on his face once he turned around to wait for you to catch up at the edge of the tiny wasteland you’d both been training in, letting you wonder as you caught up to him just what gojo had told him before he’d first introduced the both of you.

you started spluttering out a mix of words in disbelief once you reached his side, but whatever you’d tried to say immediately got stuck in your throat as soon as you finally caught a better look at the man that had sparked the short lived argument.  

oh, fuck.

“who’s this?” you watched attentively as the muscles in toji’s arms bulged beneath his tight shirt at the tiniest movement, feeling your mouth water at the mere sight of them. 

god, you felt dirty just staring at him.

“my teacher.” megumi grunted, shoving his backpack off and flinging it into his dad’s chest, walking towards the bus stop further ahead without bothering to say goodbye, knowing he’d see you around sooner or later. 

“I thought that white-haired brat was his teacher,” toji grunted out, flinging the backpack over his shoulder as he turned to look down at you, quirking up a brow as he immediately noticed your nervous demeanour, a drop of sweat dripping down your temple before rolling down your neck and towards your exposed cleavage, green eyes following it’s whole journey and lingering on the spot where it disappeared.  

it’d been a while since toji had stared at someone this way. he hadn't looked twice at anyone, regardless of their attractiveness or willingness, ever since his wife died and tsumiki’s mom left. 

but that amount of time without anyone to touch or kiss or feel would have its toll on anyone, and toji was no exception. 

which is why he initially blamed it on that. 

neediness.

he doesn't feel anything for megumi’s teacher, you’re just too pretty and exposed and worked up to ignore, right? it’s not like he’d actually think of pursuing something with you. 

he snapped out of it once you spoke, expecting to meet an angered expression and an insult about his perversion once he raised his gaze, only to find you straight up ogling his arms and chest. 

the way he stares at your pretty, scrunched up face when you aren't looking, proves him wrong.

initially, you might've been able to attribute your clammy palms and sweaty skin to the blasting summer heat, or to the fact you’d just finished a four hour training session with the tiny grade two sorcerer who gojo had been training for the past few years. 

“I'm his co-worker,” you stuttered out, forcing yourself to look away from the veins that swelled in his arms and up to his green eyes, not wanting the man to see just how much he was affecting you. “satoru’s on a mission, so I'll be taking care of ‘gumi ‘till then.”

toji hummed, taking your gawking as an invitation to do his own, allowing his eyes to trail over your flustered expression and sweaty skin, lingering on the more exposed parts of your outfit, thanking whatever god was up there for the stupid heatwave that had hit their country as of late. 

“mission, huh?” toji snickered, turning his head to look at the boy who was sitting at the bus stop with one of the divine dogs at his side, resting his tired body against its black fur. “how long will y’be around?”

“well, until ‘toru comes back, I guess…” you trailed off, mouth going dry as you watched the man take a tiny step towards you, raising one of those big hands you’d been ogling before to brush against your cheek, a shiver wracking through your whole body at the light contact, his skin burning against yours, making you just how a man that ran as hot as that was able to survive in this weather, especially when he dressed like it was winter.

“y’had some dirt on y’cheek,” toji almost purred out, flicking his fingers to get rid of the grime that had probably stuck to you during the many times megumi’s divine dogs had flung you around. 

“oh, I'm probably covered in dirt,” you laughed out nervously, taking a step back to put the same distance as before between you two, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand while trying to ignore how electrifying his touch had felt. “I always seem to find myself taking an everything-shower after training with ‘gumi, he’s ruthless.”

toji fell silent, watching you as you shook your arms and head, probably trying to get rid of whatever debri that was still stuck to your body, grin pulling at the scar in the corner of his lips. “need me t’clean you up, that what you're saying?”

huh? 

you blinked stupidly as your mind attempted to process what he had just said. were you misunderstanding his words or his tone? or was he really suggesting what your mind had immediately jumped to?

that was not what you were saying, but you certainly would not be complaining if he did. 

you felt your cheeks warm as you imagined what that might look like: big, warm, calloused hands on your skin as you stood under the steady stream of the shower, hot water pouring over the both of you as he dragged a sponge over your skin, free hand resting on your tummy right above where you needed him most, groping and caressing the plus skin, body pressed tightly against his in such a way that you could just feel his growing cock pressing against your ba-

oh, what the fuck.

you imagined punching yourself in the face, snapping you out of the downright filth you were acting out in your mind with a man you had just met, not to mention, the father of your student. 

“jeez, pick your jaw up, ‘m messing with ya.” you grunted as two of his fingers landed under your chin, shoving your mouth shut with a shit-eating grin, clearly enjoying the fact that he had gotten such a reaction out of you with a mere joke. “‘s not appropriate f’me to flirt with ‘gumi’s teacher.”

“s-sorry.” you struggled to even push out that simple word, trying to figure out just what the hell had gotten into you to make you act like this, not even processing the fact that he had just admitted to flirting with you. 

were you ovulating? was it that time of the month already? or was toji’s overwhelming presence truly just enough to get you acting like a bitch in heat?

“old man,” you snapped out of it as you heard megumi shout out for his father from behind you both, “bus is coming.”

toji chuckled, raising a thumbs up to the boy in response before turning back to look at you, taking in your shaky figure with a smirk.

“which means I'll just hafta wait ‘till that blue-eyed brat comes back and you're not his teacher anymore.”

you blinked owlishly up at him, and toji could just see the cogs whirring and moving around in your mind, trying to make sense of what he'd just said. 

“give me y’number once he does. hope that offer to clean you up will still be available by then.” 

god, he was a big fat liar. if he had been telling the truth before, he would not be asking that, he would not be (for once) looking forward to seeing that white haired bastard, as it would mean he would be free to pursue you. 

toji walked away after dropping that bombshell, not having to turn to look at you to know that you were staring at him walk away, ignoring the way his son was glaring at him while he held a hand out to stop the bus. 

“what?” he grinned, pulling their transport passes out as the bus opened its doors, megumi’s divine dog curling around the boy protectively like it usually did. “your teacher's hot,”

“you disgust me,” megumi deadpanned, snatching the pass out of his father’s hand before boarding the bus, dog quickly following up the step with a wag of its tail, phone already out and ready to message tsumiki to complain about their father, leaving toji to do the same. well, not before he turned to sneak a final look at you. 

you had walked away from the field, heading towards a black car nearby he assumed had been sent by the school, phone in hand as you talked into the speakerphone, shaky voice ringing out in such a way even he could hear it. 

“ieiri, how wrong would it be for me to hook up with a future student’s father?”

[crookedteethed]

18+ Domestic violence, toxic!Rafe, slight smut (not cute), manipulation

⋆ ★The first time Toxic!Rafe put his hands on you.

"Baby--" Rafe hands had tried to graze your tear-soaked face, but your body had flinched away from it, causing your boyfriend to grit his teeth in saturated anger. 

"Baby, look, I made a mistake--I was angry--" 

"And that makes it okay?" you sniffed, cradled in a ball in the same spot where, not too long ago, your boyfriend's ring-clad hand met the skin of your plush cheek. 

Though moments had passed, you'd still felt the sting from when the metallic of his Sigma Ring pierced your skin, and if you weren't so ashamed to look yourself in the mirror right now, you could tell if the thick metal had left a mark. 

But it's not like you needed a mirror to see if Rafe had left a mark; you felt it when you brought your shaky fingers to your cheek and felt a crescent-like shape indented into your skin. 

"Baby, please look at me." Rafe cooed, his fingers forcefully cradling your jaw to look at him, and because you were scared he might hurt you again, you let him. 

But you didn't give him all the satisfaction, as you didn't make eye contact with him--as you were scared you would start to see him differently. 

"Baby, you have to realize that you have as much part in this as I do." He said, causing you to look him in the eyes finally. 

You'd realized that Rafe had been teary-eyed as well--his cerulean eyes glossy like a baby kitten--as if it were he who'd been slapped and not you. 

"W-what?" you croaked. 

"I mean, you, you were the one that kept calling me crazy." He said, picking up your limp body in bridal style and placing you on his lap on the edge of his bed. 

And in the moment, it only felt right for you to wrap your arm behind his shoulder--for support--while he held onto your waist. 

"You--you kept saying that it was something wrong with me and that--that it was 'no since in arguing with a crazy person.' That's what you said." 

Rafe repeated your words from earlier, his pointer finger digging into your chest. 

Well, you thought. 

You did tell Rafe that he was crazy, intentionally knowing that he suspected something may have been wrong with him in the past. 

"Do you remember what else you said to me?" Rafe asked you, adjusting your body to where you were closer to his face. 

You nodded your head--ashamed--just as Rafe went to repeat your words. 

"You also said that--that I was fucked in the head, and that's the reason why Ward wants nothing to do with me. Do you remember when you said that, Y/N?"

You nodded again, covering your teary eyes with your hands, but Rafe pried your hands away--it's almost like he found joy in humiliating you. 

But you hit me, said the small voice in your head. 

No matter what you had said to Rafe, it was never worth putting his hands on you. Ever.

In the heat of the moment, you and Rafe had both sought to hurt one another, but the difference was that Rafe had intentionally sought to make you hurt physically. 

"You know shit like that always get me worked up--it's like my biggest--whats that word?" He thinks. 

"Insecurity?" You asked. 

Rafe snaps. "Yeah, that! It's my biggest insecurity." 

But on the other hand, you did know at the moment that mentioning Ward's name would piss off Rafe. Otherwise, you wouldn't have said anything. 

You brought your head to Rafe's shoulder, letting his muscular body engulf your shape. 

"Lemme see your cheek." 

Rafe brought the palm of his hand to your cheek once more to examine your slightly bruised skin, this time handling you with much more care than before. 

"Does it hurt, baby?" He asked, eyeing the skin. 

"t'stings" you groaned, and Rafe brought his plush lips to the area where your cheek had been indented and pecked it. 

"We'll get you some Naproxen--make the pain and swelling go away." He said all the while his hand was swiping the meat of your thigh. 

He kisses your cheek again. "I know one thing though, my girl's a champ for taking a hit like that, I don't think I would've been able to take a hit like that on my first time--even now--and I've taken a shit ton of hits." 

Another thing to add is that you knew that Rafe was no stranger to getting hit as punishment- his father was the one to introduce him to this system. Could you really blame Rafe for reacting in a way that was all he had known? 

At this point, Rafe's hand had been snaking its way underneath your skirt, his fingers tempting the hem of your panties. 

"My girl so tough." Rafe praised.

The context had been fucked up, but his overall wording and his tone had undeniably made your clit twitch--that, and his fingers peeling into your underwear and his palm cupping your cunt. 

"My girl forgives me, right?" Rafe asked you, looking at you with those love-sick puppy dog eyes as he slipped one of his digits into your tight hole.

And just as he added a second finger inside of you and started slowly pumping in and out of you--your forgiveness for Rafe had been caught in a moan. 

But Rafe already knew you had forgiven him, his proof being your sweet releases that coated his fingers and lap. 

[honestsycrets]

Amor y Respeto I: Mi Alma || [Miguel O’Hara x Latina!Reader]

Chapter II: Corazón

❛ pairing | Miguel O’Hara x FB!Reader, platonic Hobie x Reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | the moment you want a sign of love from Miguel is the moment that your relationship is fucked. 

❛ tags | fuckbuddies, a very latinx piece, jealousy, jealous Miguel O’Hara, a sparse hobie appearance, spidey!reader, latina!reader, no translations of the spanish included, gif credit to the original owner, nsfw, female reader, some mention of blood and wounds, some creative liberties, slight spoilers.

❛ sy’s notes | not my usual fanfare and i’m a little rusty but miguel hit me straight in my heart. i consciously omitted spanish translations in this work. consistent pet names include mi alma (my soul) & muñeca (doll). this is not my usual fandom and i may have missed some fandom nuances, so i apologize in advance for creative liberties. lastly, emotions impact the reader’s healing capabilities, hope that's clear enough. thank you @lisinfleur​ and @ivarsrideordie​ for your help. i’ll be dropping an ivar fic soon, see you then!

In your cultura, disrespect was unacceptable. 

You knew it. Your lover knew you knew it: but for you, there was something greater than respect. Amor. If he knew that you knew about her little escapade, oh, it would be unforgivable. It undercut the very foundation of what he did at HQ. But even between lovers, where the time you spent was fleeting and unstable, there were things you could not share. Besides... how would he know? 

The day had been long. Your body ached with the dizzying speed of patrols past the vine-covered high-rise apartments of your beautiful city. Your room was stuffy with the tropical air struggling against humidity. With dried blood on your skin, the perfect remedy was a shower. Its warmth soothed your aching muscles after a long day. You found your mind wandering to problems that didn’t immediately demand a solution. How you’d avoid cotton mouth the next time you saw him. Sooner than you thought.

The shower door whizzed aside, plumes of steam fading into the cool air. “Shit!” you shouted, reaching to cover your body. Miguel bent his head as he stepped into your cramped shower and cupped the frame. He shut the shower door. Did he already know? You nipped your lower lip raw and the taste of blood turned your tastebuds. Somehow, you knew that he hadn’t slipped off from HQ just to have you. Not tonight. He had that glazed-over look in his sharp eyes, considering you the same way he might consider anyone else. 

 “Miguel?” you fluttered your lashes at him which winked off plump droplets of water. “Mi alma, que paso?” 

“Did you know?” 

You reached out to turn the knob of the water off. It creaked to a stop. Despite tracing the droplets that coasted down your curves, he watched you with otherwise uninterested eyes. When you failed to respond, he stomped closer, kicking up the water that swirled under your bare feet.

“Did you know?” His fist pounded the side of the shower wall. Your heart leapt into your chest where it fluttered painfully, encased in your chest. Miguel bared his angular teeth at you. Teeth that usually marred your neck with possessive bites, loving kisses, and teasing scrapes. He never bared them at you like this. It was always a possibility, never the reality.

You met his eyes. The certainty you had moments earlier that oh, he wouldn’t find out, was gone. Of course, he found out. Your Miguel always found out. With that dead, blank expression, you knew the gravity of your situation. 

“Of course, I knew.” His chest swelled with forceful inhalation of air as you spoke. “But Gwen… I, they’re only kids. Kids who--” 

“Kids? They are not just kids. Coño, I’d expect this of them,” he prompted your name and took a step forward. You took one back. Then another, knocking your back into the shower walls. You were like a small bird in an even smaller cage. Nowhere to run and still, he wasn’t about to give you the luxury of personal space. You were pinned between his firm chest and the two stony walls against your back. His voice lowered dangerously low, barely a murmur against the shell of your ear. “But you? You know what’s at risk.” 

“They love--” 

“Y que?” he snapped your name out again. “Tell me, when those kids destroy thousands of lives, what does that change? Have you ever stopped to think of that? Of the lives this will ruin?” 

“I just... wanted them happy. If even for an instant.” You hung your head. He set his clawed hand to the side of your head, combing through the stringy strands of your hair down with a false care that you wanted to believe in. But it was entangled in the strings of his manipulation. “Of course, you have, muñequita.” 

“Then can’t they--” His hand balled up into a fist and careened with the wall behind you. Your head snapped away as his claws unfurled and released crumbling bits of the wall by your naked toes. You’d have to clean that up-- later. You took a deep breath and exhaled the frustration that packed away in your belly. “Sabes qué? I am sorry that love isn’t enough for you, I am sorry that I have never been enough for you.” 

“No. No puedo con esto,” he looked down at you. As he leaned in, his forearm above your head supported his body weight. “Muñeca, por favor. This isn’t about us.” 

“Why can’t it be?” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I just want to be with you, but you won’t let me in,” you reached out. The soft pads of your fingertips hovered by his sharp jawline eased past his ear and into his ruffled hair. For a second, brief as it were, his eyes softened. He leaned into the touch. You had your window. “Why won’t you let me in?”

Whether or not he was past the anger, the disrespect, his thick arms wound around the small of your waist. In some bid to bring you back to your senses-- to him, he set his forehead against your own, dwelling in the soft scent of your floral soap that filled his nose. You tilted your head, capturing his lips in a kiss. His body became as sturdy: unmoving and guarded. 

“I can’t give you what you need.” He reached back to remove your hands from his hair and with care settled them back on your moist chest. As he made his way out of your bathroom, his warning echoed through your mind. “Stay out of my way.”

Miguel’s love was unstable. Affection, not love. If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that you always knew it was bound to fail. You were lucky for what time you had with him. It made subsequent missions all the harder, wrapped up in this innate desire to be loved by a man who allowed himself to be loved by none. Without his affection, HQ felt barren. Its many corridors held no life, no love, and no prospect of a better future. Yet, for Miguel, there you were. Your ballet flats tapped furiously alongside the ringing stomps of your partner’s steel-toed boots.

“Ay bendito, this isn’t healing,” you dabbed your fingers in the blood at your shoulder, storming past a sea of red and blue that parted for the pair of you. Your neck was oozing-- well, not oozing so much as soaking your outfit. The mission could have gone better. Sometimes your mind wandered at the worst of times. It didn’t matter, not now. It was done, he would be happy, and it would be enough for today. All that you did you did for him-- and he knew it.

“Your man won’t be happy about that,” Hobie cut through the crowd while walking backward. He made it look so easy. Conviction, you guessed, made life much easier. 

“No,” you took the end of your silky rebozo and held it to your shoulder. “He only cares about results. We have good results. What does he have to be angry about? He has everything he wants.” 

“Hm.” Hobie hummed, span around, and leaned over your shoulder. He was on your tail with his aggravatingly long legs no matter how quickly you walked.

“Hobie, por dios.” 

“He broke up with you, didn’e?” 

You didn’t have to answer him. You didn’t even need to talk to him. You could just keep walking and leave it to his imagination. Yet, your face faltered. The perceptive man he was, Hobie twisted in front of your path. He leaned his hips back and sank his face inches apart from yours. Hobie quirked a smile in his lazy eyes and an adorable lip pout. Your eye centered on his piercing to avert your focus from his words. 

“Yeah,” he answered his own question. “Bet he did.” 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” you swerved around him.

“Maybe.” Hobie shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and sped after you. “But I’m with you.” 

“How sweet.” 

You knew your Miguel would be there: on that stupid platform, staring at multiple screens, at a lost life, departed from his reality in any other capacity but maintaining the happiness of others. Well, others that weren’t like you. You found him in that very same position when you pressed into his lab. 

“What is it now?” 

“We’ve taken care of it-- Hobie and I.”  

“Good,” came his dry response. “Is that all?”

“Not in the mood to talk to your girl, eh?” Hobie clicked, throwing his arm over your shoulder: not out of care, or friendship, but spite. No matter the institution, Hobie always seemed to harbor harsh feelings for those in charge. If it meant pissing him off a little, rattling up the flow of HQ, Hobie was always an eager volunteer. Hobie turned his lips to your ear and prompted your name, “C’mon, leave him. Let's go get a drinky drink.” 

You bit out a cry at the pressure on your neck, the damn thing wasn’t healing nearly as fast as it needed to be. You blamed the bundles of anxiety that rattled up emotions low in your belly. It was still open, soaking Hobie too. He didn’t mind a little blood on his shorn uniform. Good for the image, and all that.

“That hurt, Hobie!” 

Miguel threw a glance over his shoulder. Just a moment, but enough to spot something else that agitated him. Your normally white outfit, fluttery and light, splattered with the blood that painted your red rebozo a little redder. Or maybe it was Hobie’s lips on your ear, making remarks about beer-- or whiskey-- or-- Molotov--

“Get off,” Miguel pounced down from his kingly stoop and flicked Hobie’s wrist. He snaked his wrist away, shoving his palms back into his pants. You threw him a look knowing that it was not because Miguel told him to but because he felt like it. The devil’s advocate that he was. Miguel unraveled the rebozo from your neck. His hand grasped your chin and angled it one way, then the other, rumbling in clear agitation “You’re wounded.” 

“Déjame quieta. Don’t touch me.” 

“And you?” Miguel rocked back on his heels, setting his well-corded arms on his hips. Then, he angled his body toward Hobie. “Where were you?” 

Hobie lifted his pierced eyebrow. “He serious?” 

“I can handle myself.” 

“Can you? And you-- why are you still here?” Though Miguel asked the question, it was a statement. Hobie held his palms up, fluttering his fingers in mockery. You watched Miguel run his fingers down the bloody rebozo, counting its bloodied inches.  

“Vente conmigo.” He leaned into your ear. The trill of his voice danced down your spine, low and husky. Your mind wandered to the many nights he whispered just the same in your ear. You suppressed the shiver, your heartbeat trembling so violently you were sure you could hear its pathetic thumping, nearly a cry. It hadn’t been long but... you missed this.

“You told me to stay out of your way. I am staying out of your way. Give me--”

“I won’t ask again. Either you come or I’ll make you.” That was it then. A flash of disbelief snapped across your face. The gall of this man. Even though he told you to stay out of the way, he demanded that you leave the lab with him? You caught Hobie perking up to look your way with shiny curious eyes. He pointed to his chest and then yours, suggesting… something you’d ignore. Hobie slipped out a smug hum.

“I’ll catch up with you later, Hobie.”

There were no good alternatives. You knew he would make good on his threat. Not that you particularly would want to fight him anyway. Whether it was respect or obligation, you ran after your Miguel, who already walked away. You snatched the rebozo from his waiting hand, suspended in the air.

Yes, your life was a delicate balance between love and respect. You weren’t sure which of those guided you back to Miguel’s dimly lit room. Only that as you sat on his bed, your once-was lover was behind you. His fingers worked swiftly on your neck, furiously tugging at your sore neck with what felt like a needle. No point complaining. It would eventually end. You could go find the boys. They could rail you about your dating choices as they always did. 

“Lyla will find you another backup partner,” he broke the silence. You rathered he didn’t operate in this limbo of false intimacy. Your lips parted into a sigh rife with agitation. The drawback of fucking your boss was this, you supposed. He controlled your life.

“No, she won’t. I like working with Hobie. I want him.” 

Miguel paused short of dipping the needle back into your skin. “What do you mean-- you want him?” 

“What does it sound like? I like working with Hobie. I trust Hobie. So I want Hobie by my side.” You slapped your lacey thighs and turned to gaze into those familiar eyes. “Así que, no, I do not need another backup. I don’t need you controlling every inch of my work life. I need you to hurry up.” 

“Muñeca. If you’re emotional, you’ll heal slower.” 

“Do not call me that,” you jumped from his lush bed. Your neck squealed for you to stop and let him fix what was clearly broken with the slack thread that connected your body to his. Oh, and what a metaphor it felt like. Your life was sewn together by a man who held all the strings in his hands. “You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore. You made it clear how little you feel about me-- and my feelings.” 

He lifted his eyes to yours. A long, slow look. The sort of look that made you question it all. As if the things you said weren’t really from your lips, no matter how sure you were of them.  You broke the exchange first and grasped the long strand embedded deep in your neck. 

“Your feelings,” he held out his hand and tugged the line, “tend to get in the way of what needs to be done.” 

Startled, you looked down at his open palm. You slipped your smaller fingers into the middle of his palm and sat back on the bed. He slid behind you, pressing his core against your backside-- because that was completely necessary. With soft care, he shifted your hair over the opposing shoulder and continued his work. 

“Apart from that, you shouldn’t have gone on that mission. You were distracted. If you weren’t so emotional,” Miguel murmured. “We wouldn’t be here.”

If you weren’t emotional? You screwed your eyebrows together in a pathetic attempt to ignore what he just said. To ignore the way that he demeaned the fuel of your abilities, what guided you through this traumatic thing called life. Meanwhile, Miguel functioned on minimal emotion-- the suppression of what he’d lost by protecting what he was. 

“It’s your fault I was distracted in the first place.” 

“You should be able to control your own feelings.”

“Fine. Apúrate. I’ll get out of your way.” 

Miguel snapped the healing aid thread and ran his clawed fingertips across the long streaks on your neck and shoulder. It was mere moments that he lingered there circling your neck. As your breathing evened out, you felt your body pull together fibrous strands of tissue and heal. Yet, you couldn’t care. 

“Done.” Miguel refused to address your gaze but opted to draw your top back into place to over your breasts. You stood and secured the buttons of your halter top behind your neck. That was it. You’d return to your duties, healed half by your emotions and half by Miguel. You would need to learn to ignore the love you had for him. One day, all this would be well. Miguel rolled up the excess thread around his reel.

Fine. If he was going to ignore you--

“Do you think,” you paused long enough to debate your words. Enough for Miguel to glance up with his stoic red eyes and lift an eyebrow at you. It irritated you how unemotional and consistently unbothered he could be when you stood there just the opposite. Always desperate for a sign of his feelings. “Hobie wants to fuck?” 

There were some lines you should never cross. While you would never actually fuck your partner, the mere mention of the thought ever crossing your mind was one step too far. It was terribly disrespectful. Miguel’s reel plopped onto the floor and rolled short of your feet.

You slid your palms over your hips before hooking at the bend in your waist. His gaze focused on the glide of your hands trailing slowly down your sides. Sides that he often snatched in the dead of night after a warm shower. Or that he’d cling to during lovemaking. Your following words caused him to lurch off the bed. “Qué piensas? He might still be in HQ, no?” 

“What,” His hand fit along your neck like a tight collar. The next moment, pain radiated from your skull and blurred your vision. The pain licked flames of excitement to life in your belly. A gasp slipped from your lips. Instead of shock, your cry was tinged with delight. With his wild brown hair slumping forward over his scarlet eyes, he was more beautiful than ever. His claws squeezed your neck, jerking and slamming your head once more. His breath tickled your cheek. “What did you say?” 

Of course, he couldn’t help himself: the control freak. He was a genius. You knew he knew it was bait. He had to. But your looming threat was enough for him to take the risk. Your lips curled, laughing your words rather flippantly. “I said-- do you think Hobie wants to fuck?”

You eviscerated his already thin patience. The searing pain of his fangs piercing your battered neck seared all thoughts of Hobie from your mind. Your hands choked out a pitiful cry. “Miguel, Miguel, Miguel-- calma.”

The familiar burn of his frantic biting, his violent ownership of your body, made your body slick. He lifted your hips onto his, legs dangling over his slim thighs. Crunched up against his massive body, you felt small but as if you were the focus of his world. Just how you loved to feel when you were encased in his arms.

“You think he could fuck you like I can?” His gravelly voice rumbled. His face pinched tight, daring your response. “That you can replace me— so easily?”

No, the answer was a resounding no. But he didn’t need to know that. If Miguel thought he could play games with you, you’d play games with him. The last forty-eight hours had been a blur of his rejection. It was only fair that Miguel felt the same.

Blood seeped down from your neck, a feeling you were accustomed to today. On the other hand, you weren’t accustomed to how he tore into your uniform as if it were as offensive as your harsh words. You calmly noted that you were glad to have multiple: a consequence of doing this work too long. 

That was it. You slid your hands up his forearms, around his firm biceps, to his broad shoulders. There you rested your arms, knocking your foreheads gently together. Past the rage, you recognized the slightest hint of fear in his eyes. The promise that you were lying. For security under another name. You refused to give it to him: he never gave it to you.

“He is Spiderman, isn’t he?” 

He shifted the pad of his finger between your lips. Your tongue slid over his thumb, crooked in your mouth to suppress any more words that he may regret hearing or that you may regret saying. 

“He may be,” Miguel rasped. His lips quirked into a wicked grin. With Miguel’s sudden sharpness, you weren’t expecting to see his smile. You welcomed it, a rare delight that you found yourself loathing the more he spoke. “But you’re mine.” 

His. The inklings of fear you previously spotted in the depth of Miguel’s eyes seemed to weaken, sliding his thumb from your lips, rolling past your nipple, and the muscles of your stomach. He slid past your vulva, trailing with expert care along your slit. It was barely a touch if even a graze. Words failed to form. They were a thick bolus in your throat, congealed and thick.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I thought so.” 

Your eyes trailed Miguel’s strong jawline and ambled up toward his lips. Your gaze lingered there as his fingers slipped between your lips, finding your cunt soft and wet. His eyes flickered toward your shy gaze and danced his lips against yours by virtue of his words. “It doesn’t seem like you’re that interested in finding him.”

“How would you know?” you cried out when one of his clawed fingers dipped inside your body. Your hips jerked onto his hand to seek out more of him. Your traitorous, awful body. It wasn’t comfortable when he scratched you while stroking your velvety inner walls. But you always needed more of his touch.

“Oh,” Miguel hummed. He bent close-- your eyes now focused on his high cheekbones. You couldn’t look him in the eyes and know that he knew how weak you were for him. “I know. It’s the way you look at me.” 

“As if--” You dropped your eyes, reveling in the pressure of his prodding fingers, the delight in having him here, with you, once again. It shouldn’t have felt as intimate, as comforting as it did, but it did. His fingers withdrew, pleased with his work. “You know I can give you what you need.” 

“You said you couldn’t,” Miguel slipped his fingers into your mouth: sweet and sour with your own excitement and the scratches of blood. His hands worked at the waist as you secured yourself on the wall with your hands, knowing what was next-- and expecting it. 

“I lied.” he drawled out, a long hum. He spat on his hand and rubbed himself as you watched, anticipating the soft prod of his cock’s head at your entrance. It hadn’t been long. Yet, as he buried himself in the warmth of your body, you inhaled a wealth of air into your chest, exhaling it in soft shudders. Perhaps it was the fear of never having this again. 

His large hands shifted underneath your ass and pinned you square against the wall. His claws drew blood to the surface of superficial cuts. Your hands snapped to his shoulders and clung onto him for some security. You found no rest between the wall chafing your back and Miguel’s long, pointed strokes into your body. Your body burned with the pull of his dick dragging in and out of your cunt, fighting to keep him inside with every squeeze and pull. He wasn’t lying, you knew. But it didn’t matter. Not when you were his complete and utter focus. 

Miguel let a word of praise slip free as he ground into you. With a wall of muscle before you and the sturdy wall behind, breathing was slight and hard to come by. It had to be what he wanted-- to make you focus on him and him alone. It’s what you deserved after antagonizing the man. Your hands found his hair, knotting your fingers in it, and accepting the ferocity of his deep, then shallow strokes into your core. Your eyes flitted shut as he bottomed out, grinding his hips in tight circles. As you came, your body furiously clenched onto his cock, slowing his sweeping thrusts. 

You craved it: the moment of Miguel’s weakness. Your body urged out his orgasm with a noise tempered by pleasure and annoyance. Your cunt milking earned you a particularly firm slam of his hips. Miguel would drag you down to take it all. He spilled into you with a deliciously unique warmth, grinding his hips until spent. His forehead rested on the crook of your neck. In place of another hard bite, he gently kissed your collarbone and throat. After he finished, he settled you down onto the floor. But your legs were sloppy, weak shaky things. Miguel snatched your hand as you swayed to keep yourself upright. 

“I have to go,” you held his hand begrudgingly for support. Then bent down to pick up strips of your clothes. Yet another victim of your relationship with him. You would have to... mend this. Somehow. Probably not. “They’re expecting me--” 

“Muñeca,”

“Cálmate, Miguel. You know I’m not going to fuck him,” you swiped the coursing fluids down your thigh. You dragged your hand down Miguel’s firm chest and danced your finger up his chest to flip up his chin. He glanced down, puffing air from his nostrils in protest. His eyes rolled, oh so slightly. “He’s not my type. I like them big, mm?”

“You would if he was?” he bristled.

“I never said that.” You said. Despite this fact, certain needs needed to be met. Ones that if he didn’t fill, someone else would. You both knew this. Your work was long and stressful and done in the name of the man who was before you. If for nothing but that love, you knew you would keep going. You believed in Miguel: his choices and his heart. 

“You didn’t need to.” 

“Mi alma--” you stopped, waving your hand at his pet name. “All this is fleeting. I need someone that will meet my needs. To tell me they love me. Can you?” 

He pressed his lips together and stewed on your request. You knew without a question in your mind what that answer was. In the aftermath of sex with Miguel, he was closer to you than ever. And yet, it was impossible to convince him of an actual connection. For him, it was easier to leave you than love you. 

He didn’t need to say it.  

“I know you, Miguel. You didn’t lie. It was the truth,” you slipped your hand from his. Instead, you opted to set a fleeting kiss on the side of his lip. For better or worse, he didn’t reciprocate. Your steps carried you backward. Then, you afforded him a small deprecating smile. “Other than sex, you can’t give me what I need.”

[star2fishmeg]

Hey, Queen, me again. Got another B O M B idea right here. Got the G O O D S. hickey obsession with Fujio. Mother lover can’t get E N O U G H, he can’t stop, he can’t understand why he loves the sight of you being cOvered in love marks made by HIM. Slight boob worship? (I love my boobs and should be worshiped.)

Slay, Queen. Gonna do so well sweetie! 🫶🫶✨✨🤭🤭

ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏғ ᴀʀᴛ

[0.9k]

Pairing | Hanaoka Fujio x afab!reader

Summary | fujio is a true artist when it comes to his girlfriend being the canvas

Warnings | 18+ smut, hickeys, marking kink, praise, tit play, swearing, pet names (baby, princess)

Authors Note | thank you for the request! I’m so sorry it took so long!! I'm not really sure if I like this one, it’s a lot shorter than usual but I’m still rusty

“You’re so fucking hot,” his teeth met her skin again, leaving a hot kiss on her breast and sucking another hickey into the collection, “Love seeing you marked up. All mine, aren’t ya?”

Y/n’s back arched against the mattress, fingernails digging into his back muscles in all their ridges, creating an art piece of crescent indents and red marks clawed over his skin. Fujio held her hips down in a bruising grip, knee between her legs and trapping her exactly where he needed, blood rushing to his cock with every languid drag of her pussy over his knee while high-pitched whimpers bounced off his bedroom walls. He loved it, bathed in the stinging of her scratches, it reminded him that he was making her feel like she was on top of the world at that moment and that no one else could ever do what he could. He thrived in the aftermath. Looking in the mirror the morning, seeing her territory marked vividly. Suddenly walking around in just a tank top became more appealing than before, screaming a big ‘fuck you’ at the other guys.

He sat back on his knees, his smile dripping in charm plastered on his face, admiring his work like it belonged in a museum. He didn’t know where this obsession started, but he loved how beautiful she looked covered in blossoms of pink and purple, created by his and only his teeth sinking into her while she sang his name. Her neck, her chest claimed by the only boy she’d ever loved at full capacity. Every bite, every hickey placed over her was like a medal, it just really got him going like nothing else. Perhaps it was the thrill of everyone knowing his sex life, rubbing it in at Oya that someone like him could pull too. Or maybe it was territory, a dominance over other guys sort of thing. Or maybe it was the way she wriggled and cried his name with erogenous wails that stimulated his every fibre in such a euphoric way he just had to fuck her in some way. Whatever it was, he loved it shamelessly.

Shuffling back, his lips met her hips, hands soothing up and down her thighs as his canines nipped at the flesh with urgency, leaving eager hickeys over the intimate areas of her that only he had the privilege of basking in. The soft little moans she let out as he sucked filled his veins with some sort of perverted elation. Not the same adrenaline he felt when fighting, but a consuming one, a loving one that practically made his heart swell and made him wish he could wipe her clean and start his handiwork all over again.

“Yours, ‘jio! All your- yours.” Her jaw hung open, strings of broken whines slipping from her throat the closer his lips hunted her cunt, hands carding through his thick strands and tugging harshly, his groans vibrating on her skin and through her body. He may have eaten her out like a starved man once that night but could anyone blame a girl for wanting to be devoured again, especially by her boyfriend who just loved putting his mouth all over her?

He pulled away, panting heavily and chuckling, his voice low. His eyes raked over her body; squirming beneath him, dishevelled with sweat glistening over all her curves and marks. God, he thought it was such a delicious sight to succumb to.

“Why’d you stop?” she whined, the tone needy and desperate and luring him back into her neck, assaulting her column with more wet, sloppy kisses over the established hickeys that lived along it – like she’d been mauled. He trailed kisses down the valley of her breasts, attending to them not with his mouth, but with his hands that groped gently, squeezing, and pushing them together. His thumbs circled over the buds, lips ever so softly ghosting over the skin. She knew he was smiling, she could feel it, feel every nuzzle and peck, relishing in how the boy was on cloud nine when stuffed between her tits. Only hers. Only her tits could make him as hard as he was, her thighs could feel him, and she wanted nothing more than his bedframe to bump into his wall in an erotic rhythm.

“So fuckin’ perfect.” He mumbled; voice muffled by her body, “So soft ‘nd warm and all fuckin’ mine.”

His lust fed into her ego, eyes half-lidded and she bucked her hips up into his. Lips tugging into a weak smile, she threw her head back into the pillows, mouth shuddering open when his clothes cock dragged over pussy; exposed and wet, practically spilling in arousal and cum from before still. She choked out his name in a carnal moan, losing her breath and feeling her hair stuck to her forehead.

When Fujio did pull away, chest heaving and face flushed rosy, his eyes flicked across her face. To him, she was stunning when laying pornographically like that. Making pretty noises for him, being his blank canvas and tasting exquisite as always.

“I lo-“ she panted, trying to find the strength to smile, “-love you, ‘jio.”

“I love you too, princess.” He placed a sweet kiss on her lips, his grip loosening, and he held her as if she were glass. There was no other way he’d rather spend his nights, taking care of his girlfriend felt far more meaningful than throwing fists in some junkyard. Y/n meant that much more, and he sure did love showing everyone who she belonged to.

H&L harem (if you wanna be tagged/removed in future H&L content, comment or lemme know via ‘chat to me bbygorl’ :D);

@airbendertendou @strxwberrychocolate @rouzuchan @yuken-gf @rinwhore @simpforchuchu @rainisawriter @cheshirecatuniverse @certainbananacollectionblr @tiredlittlewriter @ninamarie1994 @riricompass

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

2024 © STAR2FISHMEG All rights reserved - do not plagiarise/copy, translate, or repost any of my works. Please let me know if you notice that any of these have been done to my work.

Banners & dividers belong to @/cafekitsune

[pedriswife]

More pedri dad smut😭

DILF (smut)

"You look so beautiful today, no?" Pedri's breath was hot against your neck, his nose grazing along your collarbone, taking in the smell of your perfume. You were getting ready for a long awaited date with your husband, first one in ages ever since you had your child, however your mother in law decided to do you both a favour and look after your son so you could enjoy each others presence without being interrupted by the cheeky 3 year old boy.

"Says you handsome. Can you help me with the necklace, please?" You asked, feeling your cheeks heat up from his compliment, his slightly cool hands reaching behind you to clasp your necklace, a gold letter p decorating your neck. He placed a soft kiss on the plush of your skin, his hands wandering over the sides of your body, your back arching as it welcomed his touch.

The scratchiness of his beard tickled your skin as his lips dipped lower, kissing in between the valley of your breasts, making note of the fact that you wore no bra, his hand pulling at your dress, trying to lower the material from your chest.

"Pedri... come on, we have to leave now, or we'll be late," you said, trying to regulate your ragged breath as he continued, not mindful of the reservation he made for the restaurant.

"I missed you so much, the food can wait. I have my eyes on a better delicacy," he murmured against your skin, his hands lowering until met with the swell of your ass, a slight squeeze enough to make you gasp.

His fingers made their way up to your back, tugging at the zipper before pulling it down, getting yourself out of the dress quite quickly, pedri's lustful gaze scanning through your body, your black panties being the only thing covering you.

"I'm so lucky to call you my wife," he said before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his hand placed at the side of your face pulling you in even more before lowering down to your breast, kneading it softly in his hand, his mouth swallowing all the gasps that you let out. He moved lower, his fingers hooking on the band of your panties before tugging them off, throwing them to the side where your dress cascaded on the floor.

He pulled away from your lips just to take his shirt off, you helping him with the buckle of his belt, trying to get off his trousers in a hurry. He smirked at your sudden keenness; his cock already hard in his boxers, your hand teasing him over the material before he quickly got rid of it too, leaving the pair of you fully naked. He picked you up, placing your body on the bathroom counter, your legs spreading, accommodating him in between.

His fingers grazed over your exposed core, spreading your juices, your back arching as he moved over your clit, his name leaving your mouth in soft moans. You wrapped your legs around his waist, prompting him to get closer, his cock already leaking precum as it stood against his stomach. He grabbed his cock, giving it a few strokes as he spread his precum around his length before letting his tip swipe over your clit, the sudden contact making you ooze more of your juices, a moan ripping from your mouth.

"Pedri- fuck me," you said, your eyes glossy as they met his, one of his hands on your side whilst the other pointed his cock at your acting core, needing him inside.

"As you wish mi vida," he said before entering you, your gasps heard simultaneously as he felt you stretch around his cock. He moved slowly, letting you adjust to his size, whispering how good you're taking him, your nails scratching down the length of his back. With a nod, you prompted him to move faster, his hands placed at your sides as he moved your body down to meet with his thrusts, your eyes rolling back from pleasure.

He took your lips again in a fiery kiss, saliva mixing and teeth clashing as you moaned against each other, his thrusts moving your body along, grabbing at his shoulders to stabilise yourself. He angled his hips, his cock reaching your g spot immediately, a scream of his name leaving your lips as he continued to slam into you, the pleasure overtaking your body.

Feeling your orgasm approach, you moved your hand to rub on your clit, tracing figures of eight over the sensitive bundle of nerves, pedri's cock still deliciously filling you up.

"I'm gonna put another baby in you, yeah? You want that?" He groaned, the thought of having another child with you, making it harder for him to control himself, already imagining the swell of your pregnant stomach with your second child.

His sudden confession only turned you on more, wanting him to fill you up as you urged him to do so, your mind clouded from pleasure as your thighs shook, your juices squirting, drenching the counter, a ring of white visible at the base of his cock. The feeling you you clenching around him made pedri reach his own high, his cum spurting in thick ropes inside you, his seed deep inside of you. He gave a few more thrusts, you whimpering from sensitivity as he mumbled something along the lines of needing to keep his cum inside of you.

As you caught your breaths, you were met with his red face, his hair sticking to his forehead a slight smirk decorating his face as he reached down to kiss you again.

"I hope you're ready for baby #2 mi vida."

A/N: hope you enjoy this one guys, I was literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair whilst writing this🫶🏼 (number 8 from the roulette)

[asleeponelmstreet]

Burnt (part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Something is tainting your memories, so you turn to your knives as a distraction.

Tags: Blitzø x female reader, Alastor x female reader, a little bit of smut, but also lots of plot, oral (female-receiving), slight bdsm, slight non-con if you squint but also not, daddy kink because Blitzø, this is just a teaser for the smut to come, there will be smut, and it will be kinky as hell, implied drug addiction

wc: 4,158

Ugh, sorry it's been so long! I've been so busy that I haven't had as much time to write. And honestly, this chapter was a lot harder for me to write. Probably because it was all from scratch. Rough drafts for the first two chapters and several later chapters were written months ago. But I wanted to add this in. Don't worry! My goal is to not have as long of a gap between chapters from now on. I already have a rough draft for a decent chunk of the fourth chapter as well as several future ones written out. Enough of my groveling, let's get to the good stuff.

You can also read this on AO3 here if you'd prefer.

Minors DNI!!!

“On the bed,” the voice whispered against your swollen lips. But you wanted to fight back a little, so you reached up to grasp his chin pulling him for another searing kiss. He complied, kissing back only for a moment. A string of your saliva still connected you as he broke away. “Now,” he growled.

Much better. Your eyes raked over his half-naked body as you walked backward until your legs hit the edge of the mattress. You liked what you saw standing before you. His pants hung low on his hips, exposing where red skin met white scars on his torso. Those lean muscles drew you to the prominent bulge restricted by black fabric.

“What next?” You asked, baiting him. “Daddy…”

“Fuck.” He groaned before striding towards you and clutching your chin in his grip. “Lie back, bitch.” His other hand found your shoulder, firmly pressing you down until you bounced against the sheets.

Caging you in with his arms, he hovered over you. Red irises glowed in the darkness as he scanned your body. Watching as your breasts heaved under his heavy-lidded gaze. Heat swelled below your stomach and your breath quickened in anticipation. He captured your lips in another kiss, prying your mouth open and making you surrender to him.

A hand moved from where it was gripping the sheets beside your face and found your breast, groping roughly before tweaking your nipple with his sharp nail. You whined into the kiss, and he repeated the motion on the other before trailing down your abdomen to the last scrap of clothing left.

Your breath hitched as he slipped a finger under the waistband of your panties and snapped it back against your tender flesh hard enough to leave a mark. You let out a yelp, even though you could admit it was pretty hot. He beamed at you even as you were growing impatient. “Fuck, Blitzø. Stop playing with me.”

The imp shook his head as he tried to contain a chuckle. “Not so patient now, huh? Fucking brat.” He lifted your hips off the bed to yank them down your legs, leaving you completely bare. “Now, for the fun part,” he said as his hands cleaved your knees apart, spreading your thighs and exposing your throbbing sex.

He grazed his knuckles on your inner thighs before spreading open your folds. His eyes bore into yours as he flicked his forked tongue against your clit. “Blitz!” you cried out.

“That’s my name bitch, don’t wear it out,” he snarked before sealing your aching nub with his lips and sucking. His teeth grazed the sensitive bundle of nerves, making your eyes shut in pleasure. The image of the black heart-shaped skull on his forehead that the two of you shared framed between your quivering thighs imprinted on your mind.

You lost yourself in the feeling of him devouring you. Two fingers collected your arousal and sunk into you, quickly finding your g-spot.

As you threw your head back in ecstasy, you felt something shift. A vibrating sensation joined the mouth on you as static filled the air. You blindly reached out your hands to grab Blitzø by the horns, but instead you found cartilage covered in fur. “Look at me,” a new voice commanded – this one sounding disturbingly like it was being broadcast on an old-fashioned radio.

You jolted but a hand came to your hip, keeping you firmly pressed into the mattress. When you finally felt brave enough to open your eyes, the imp you had once loved had been replaced by none other than the radio demon. Somehow, Alastor was still sporting his signature grin as he gorged himself on your soaking cunt. His handsome face dripping with your juices as radio dials whirred in his pupils.

“Good girl,” he praised, clearly satisfied with your wide-open eyes. Your hips bucked as you struggled under his grasp. It egged him on. His tongue lashing at you as fingers prodded faster and deeper into you. The tension that had been building at your core hurdled towards your peak.

You screamed as you reached your climax. Tremors wracked through your body as you rode out the blissful feeling of that wicked mouth on you. And then he was gone. You startled awake. Alone in your bed. The twisted sheets around you were soaked in sweat… and something else even more shameful.

Fuuuuck. Eager to get out of the bed where you dreamed up that twisted scenario, you threw the blankets back and searched for a change of clothes. Your mind set on finding something to make you forget about that dream nightmare.

You watched as the knife soared through the air before finding its target. Sinking into the lavender skin between Valentino’s eyes. It was a picture of the bastard, of course. It was not as gratifying as it would have been to slice the oversized moth but satisfying, nonetheless. You had torn the photograph of the overlord out of a magazine you found in the hotel’s parlor.

Trudging up the slight hill, you retrieved the knife from where it was buried in the beat-up chair you had discovered gathering dust in a closet. You didn’t think Charlie would notice it gone. The red armchair furnished the Hazbin Hotel before it was remodeled. It somehow survived among the rubble left by the battle with the exorcists. But you would see that it didn’t survive your wrath.

You pulled out the other knives seated into his chest and crotch, revealing the scraps of flimsy paper that remained. You had begun your assault with his wings and skinny limbs, wanting to maximize his use and elongate the pain. He deserved it. For all the damage he had done. For all the souls he devoured. For Angel.

The photograph was torn to shreds so it was time for a new victim. Crumpling what remained into a ball, you hurled him aside with the picture of Mammon you annihilated earlier that morning. Slicing into the king of greed had felt just as good and reassured you that your aim was still perfect – even if you hadn’t thrown a single knife since moving in with the princess.

You picked up the magazine you had haphazardly tossed to the ground, flipping through the pages in search of a new target. You knew taping a page out of a magazine to a chair wasn’t the best setup for practice, but you were in a rush to find a good distraction. Your head still in a haze from what woke you this morning, refreshing this set of skills had been the first distraction that popped up in your mind. You needed this. So did your beautiful knives, having been neglected for too long.

An advertisement for VoxTek Enterprises caught your attention. Why would anyone be motivated to buy tech from an ad that merely depicted its CEO and founder? Vox must be a self-absorbed asshole!

You ripped the page out by its seam before realizing what you were doing. While aiming at Mammon, you thought of Fizz refusing to see you after the fire. You thought of the bruises covering Angel’s body after a long day at work when shooting at Val. There was a clear reason for your last two choices, but who was Vox for? You shuddered at the thought before brushing it aside. You would pretend it was only because you found the blockheaded overlord annoying.

With a new victim in your sites, you walked towards the hotel. This time you created more space between you and the chair than you had for the last round. A slight challenge would force you to focus, especially since your mind had been muddled with thoughts of the radio demon.Curling your toes into the soles of your shoes as if you could grip the dirt beneath your boots, you grounded yourself. You effortlessly shifted into a fighting stance while maintaining your balance. A slight breeze tickled your skin as you took in the peacefulness of your surroundings.

You always felt the most centered during times like these. The calm before the storm unleashed by your rage and power. That’s the real reason you sought out some target practice if you were being honest with yourself. You needed the fight to feel like yourself. Having abandoned it to aid Charlie on her mission, you were left feeling like a stranger in your own skin. 

Since you weren’t about to wake up Angel at five in the morning for some hand-to-hand combat or even a turf war, this shitty makeshift setup in the fields behind the hotel was the next best thing. And you could admit to yourself, that your ego needed this. After turning into a blubbering mess yesterday, you needed to reassure yourself that you were still deadly. 

Narrowing your focus to the knife in your hand and the distant target, you inhaled deeply. With a steady exhale, you let the knife slide out of your fingers and watched as it soared through the air. Your whole world centered on the knife as it made an impact, plunging between the spindly legs of the overlord. 

With a satisfied smile, you prepared yourself to replicate it. This time through his right eye. You weren’t exactly sure why you were driven to skip straight to the good stuff, but it felt right.

Everything around you slipped away again. Even the faint sounds of the wildlife surrounding you came to a halt. You aimed and pulled your arm back like before, but a faint buzzing sound crept up on you. A chill ran down your spine as you realized what it heralded. Before you could bring your hand down, fingers wrapped around your wrist and held you in place.

“And what do you think you’re doing, my dear?” He whispered, so close that static tickled your ear and danced across the nape of your neck. You could even feel his stomach pressed against your back since the radio demon was directly behind, mirroring you if it wasn’t for the extreme height difference.

“Let go,” you said to him through gritted teeth. He only inhaled sharply in response. Eugh. He was smelling you. What a freak. Your thoughts immediately jumped to regret. Thinking you should have probably showered before changing into your leathers. You hoped he wouldn’t scent the sweat and arousal from earlier this morning.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth before responding. “Not until you answer my question.”

“Get your fucking hand off of me,” you spat as you thrashed against him, struggling to escape his embrace. “I’m not afraid of you.” A lie.

“Oh, but you are.” His other hand curled around the nape of your neck, roughly pulling you backward and forcing you to look up at him. The twisting position was straining, and you wished you had the guts to truly fight back. But no matter how tough you were, he unnerved you, unlike any other sinner. With other overlords like Vox, you merely felt disgusted. But with Alastor… he was a creature like no other.

“Why would I be afraid of you?” It’s not like I have a soul.” You grumbled that last part. If you did have a soul at one point in your life, it could never go to Heaven, and you had snuffed it out like a flame years ago. Even if you did, you had never heard of a sinner owning a Hellborn demon before. Had you?

“You don’t?” The question was almost mocking, but you ignored him. You had stopped your efforts to escape, waiting for him to let down his guard or loosen the constraint he had you in. “If you’re not afraid of me, why are you trembling?” You hadn’t realized you had been shaking. You dropped the knife letting it clatter to the ground between you. That’s when he finally released you from his grip, allowing you to move several steps away before facing him.

“Don’t feel special,” you were going to leave it at that, but you continued with an excuse. A real one. Even if it wasn’t the only reason you were shaking in his arms. “Sometimes, I get a bit shaky. It got so bad when I was younger that my mother used to motion to me to keep my fork steady at the dinner table.” Why were you explaining this to him? And why mention your mother? Even the thought of her concerned eyes as she watched you attempt to eat without spilling made your chest tighten.

“I bet your target would disagree,” he said gesturing towards what remained of the chair.

“That’s different. When it comes to my knives, my mind is quiet. Same with guns. And hand-to-hand combat. Or anything to do with fighting.” Stop rambling, your thoughts screamed.

He hummed to himself thoughtfully. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Exasperated, you threw up your hands in the air. “Isn’t it obvious?! I’m throwing knives.”

“Do I need to remind you of the rules here at the Hazbin Hotel?” You rolled your eyes at that. Yes, technically, weapons were not allowed at the hotel. Before you arrived, it had been a much stricter rule but after the exorcists attacked, the new building was filled with weapons for defense. Others even had their own weapons: Alastor had his staff, Vaggie had her angelic spear and Angel had his tommy guns, even if he did hide them from Charlie. In your defense, everyone in the hotel was just about as deadly without weapons as they were with them.

“You know those rules are outdated. And I’m not even a guest.” You argued, folding your arms over your chest.

“Then, what are you?” He inquired.

“I-I help out.” Satan, why did you stutter? Probably because even though you had set out to help with the hotel, in the weeks since you moved in you had done nothing. You barely got out of bed that first week. You had felt so empty even with the promise of a purpose. Since then, you acted like a guest. Participating in Charlie’s exercises with Angel and the rest of the staff – excluding Alastor, who usually just watched from a dark corner – and generally just fucking around.

“And what exactly do you ‘help out’ with? What is your job title?” You stared blankly at him. He had you stumped. You should probably ask for a specific job from Charlie soon. To give your life meaning obviously, not just to get Alastor off your back.

You shrugged, trying to shake off the shame that flooded your body. Redemption was a lot further away than you thought. “I’ll figure that out.”

He chuckled and you fell silent, looking down at the knife that lay at your feet.

“You’re very talented.” Another compliment from the radio demon. That was the second one in two days. It was an effort to keep your mouth from gaping open. You didn’t want him to see your shock, but you knew from the smug look on his face that it was written all over your own… no matter how hard you tried to hide it.

“Thank you,” you said sheepishly as you refused to remove your gaze from the ground. You pushed the knife around with the tip of your boot. If you weren’t already red, you would certainly be blushing a deep crimson.

“Where did you learn to throw knives like that?”

“What kind of question is that? I live in Hell. Of course, I can throw a knife.” You rolled your eyes. “Duh.”

“That kind of precision is unique for an imp.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at that too, but you had already met your quota for this conversation. Throw in some cystic acne and you would revert to your moody teenaged self. “Imps can fight.”

“Not like that.”

“Fuck, old man. You can’t say things like that.” His eyes widened as if he was shocked that you bit back a little. Part of you enjoyed seeing him taken aback. Maybe, that’s why you decided to tell the truth. “If you absolutely must know, I worked as an assassin for a few years.”

“Were you any good?”

“At the killing, yes. But we ran our own business, and it was a fucking mess. I thought for a while that we had run it into the ground.”

“We?” Oh. You realized what you had implied and inwardly cursed your lack of filter.

“My friend and I,” you said, feeling weird about calling Blitzø your ex. “Apparently, it worked better without me. After I left, I started seeing billboards all over the city for his new and improved hitman service.” Even if it wasn’t your dream, it still hurt.

The look in Alastor’s eye told you that he sensed there was more to the story. More to your friend. It was almost sympathy if the radio demon could feel sympathy. Whatever it was, you hoped he would drop it. He looked like he would, but then he asked, “Why him?”

“Why who? My friend?”

“No, your target.” He drew your attention back to the present moment.

“Oh, Vox. He’s my latest. I had already obliterated Mammon and Valentino. I just picked a random picture out of the magazine.” You didn’t want to admit that you briefly thought of the radio demon when you had chosen to target the flat-faced corporate overlord.

“I understand Val, given your close relationship with our resident effeminate fellow. But then why Mammon?”

“Can’t I just hate the king of greed?”

“You can, but I was watching. You picked him first and it appeared… deliberate.”

“Let’s just say that I know on a personal level, he’s one of the worst kinds of demons.”

Alastor looked like he wanted to ask more, but you had avoided enough of his questions that you didn’t want to deal with it anymore. “So, if you don’t mind. I’d like to return to my target practice in peace.”

“Very well,” he began to walk back towards the hotel before adding. “I’ll see you in a few hours for another one of Charlie’s delightfully charming exercises.”

“You don’t even fucking participate!” You yelled at the back of his fuck-ass bob. A low chuckle accompanied by a faint crackle of static his only response.

Later that morning, you found yourself teetering on the top rung of a ladder while Angel stood at the base holding it steady. Ever so carefully, you placed a playing card on the top of the tall tower of cards that the group had been working on for the last hour. It was supposed to be a team-building exercise that followed a brief lesson from Vaggie about the power of working together towards a common goal. You understood what they were aiming for with this lesson and assumed it would benefit the hotel to have everyone working together. But you couldn’t help but wonder if Charlie was running out of ideas. How was this supposed to help sinners get into Heaven?

Two other ladders surrounded the comedically large playing card structure. Husk stood on one with Charlie keeping it steady as Lucifer stood on his tiptoes on the top of the other with support from Vaggie. It was a bit of a surprise to see him. He moved into the hotel a little while before you, but he was always holed up in his room. Likely working on his latest rubber duck invention. A particular quirk of the King of Hell that you found very surprising. Nifty was also there, banished to the sidelines after she knocked over the first tower halfway through while she was chasing after a nasty bug with her needlepoint. And not surprisingly, Alastor merely watched from a seat at the bar, taking in all the “entertainment” playing out before him.

Angel handed you another playing card to add to the outrageous pile and as he did, he threw a sly smirk Husk’s way. “You look good from down here,” your friend hollered.  The winged-cat demon growled in response, not wanting any of the attention that Angel gave him.

“Knock it off, Angel.” Charlie scolded. “We want our friends to be comfortable around us when we’re working together.” She was clearly trying to tie the lesson about teamwork in with one about Angel’s incessant sexual harassment.

“Don’t worry, Charlie. I’ll make sure he’s comfortable.” The lilt to his voice suggested he wanted to make the bartender a lot more than comfortable. In an instance, Angel let go of your ladder and strutted towards Husk with determination. “Are you sure you don’t want me… underneath you?”

It all happened so fast after that. Charlie chided him for not supporting his partner, but then let go of her hold as Angel neared. Husk didn’t notice as she moved to hold your ladder in place of his. She was clearly hoping the spider would at least support Husk’s ladder as he harassed him, but he didn’t. Husk let out a groan in frustration as Angel tried to sweet talk him before pounding his fists against the top of the ladder. That’s when the whole thing started to slant. Almost in slow motion, the ladder came crashing down to the floor and knocked over Lucifer in the process. The king of pride somehow fell forward into the tower, sending everything tumbling to the ground. Remarkably, your ladder was the only one left standing as the dust settled on the pile of cards, ladders and demons strewn across the floor.

“I’m fucking done,” Husk said, dramatically dropping the cards that remained in his hands before leaving the scene of the crime for the safety harbored behind the bar top.

“Yeah, I’m over it.” Angel added, puffing his chest out and crossing his legs casually as he sat down next to Alastor. The radio demon looked annoyingly delighted by the disastrous outcome of this silly little exercise.

“You know, what?! FUCK IT! I should’ve known you guys wouldn’t be able to work together on this.” Vaggie fumed, but her girlfriend moved close to her.

Placing a hand on the former exorcist’s shoulder, the princess tried her best to calm her down. “It’s alright, Vaggie. They worked together for a while and that’s all that matters.”

“And we got it like really tall before it got knocked over,” you said, trying to salvage a shitty situation. “I feel like that’s an achievement in and of itself.” You climbed down the ladder, joining everyone else on the solid floor.

Vaggie mumbled some Spanish curses under her breath before storming off in a huff. Before Charlie could follow, you stopped her.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?”

Charlie’s head bobbed between you and the door Vaggie slammed behind her before deciding. “Uh yeah, for a minute. She probably just needs time to cool off. What’s up?”

“I enjoyed today’s lesson,” you started. It wasn’t exactly a lie since you had found yourself having fun at certain points. “But I wonder if were approaching this the wrong way?”

She rubbed at her shoulder, looking a bit nervous. “I’m glad you enjoyed it!” She blushed, but clearly something was on her mind. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” your words trailed off as you thought about the best way to put this without offending her. “I agree that teamwork is important. But I wonder if it would help to mix in a few lessons that focus more on the individual – since it’s an individual’s journey along the path to redemption. You said that not even the angels seem to know what it is that gets someone into Heaven, so what if its slightly different for everyone? Since everyone is their own unique sinner, what if their path to Heaven looks different as well.”

Charlie’s face brightened. You hoped it was a sign that this was going better than you thought it would. “I actually love that idea!” She said, excitedly. “Though, I’m not sure what that would look like. Do you have something in mind?”

“I was in and out of group therapy and rehab all my adult life. We did tons of exercises that I think we could adapt to fit our goal of redemption. Could I maybe pitch you a few options tomorrow and if you like one, we could do it the next morning?”

“Yes! Yes! A million times, yes! I should probably go check on Vaggie now but just let me know when you’re ready.”

A part of you wanted to stop her once more. To ask her for Asmodeus’s phone number, but you decided against it. What would you say to him? Or a better question, what would you say to Fizz if you spoke to him? But Charlie was out the door before you could muster up the courage to change your mind.

Hope you enjoyed! It's actually funny. Two of my best friends read the little smut scene out of curiosity while I was proofreading it. They're not familiar with either show, they're just horny and in love so they thought it would be fun. I cringed so hard, but their reactions were priceless. She's very prim and proper and hates words like pussy and cunt so she struggled but couldn't stop reading. My favorite comments were: Male friend: His skin is red? Female friend: Yeah, he's a demon. She watches this shit all the time. - M: His name is Blitzø?! What kind of name is that? - F: You said there's two guys? Me: Yeah, just wait. M: Oh, I think I found him. - F: You know I hate the word clit. Me: I use cunt later too. F: *shudders* - F: Folds!? Me: I thought you stopped reading it. F: I did, but I couldn't look away. - After they finished reading... M: Do you want feedback? Me: On the writing, yes. On my choices in men, no. M: *looks at me way too seriously* It's very well written. F: I can tell it's very well written, and I don't want to offend you but that's just not my thing. 20 minutes later, she returned... F: I really hope I didn't offend you. I know you're a good writer, it's just those words *shudders* Me: I'm not offended!

So... what did ya think? Hope you're not as grossed out by the words clit and cunt and folds as my friend. Luckily, her partner didn't mind. I don't know why but the scene with the knives was really hard for me to write. And honestly, the short little smut scene, too. For all the smut I read, I've surprisingly written very little smut. But I'm hoping to get better at it. There will be more smut to come. That was just a little teaser. And it will mostly be kinky because Blitzø exists and because well, I'm kinky. Anyways, hope you like it!

tag list: @sirens-and-moonflowers @whoknowswhoiamtoday @kisskissshutmydoor hopefully y'all are still interested in this story!

[ppocchidagooberbrother]

1.9K words | •

A/N: I took my time making this so enjoy :3

This is a fic for self indulgence purposes so yeah but read if u want! (⁠´⁠ε⁠��⁠ ⁠)

Edward imagines. He imagines a lot.

Sometimes he imagines his soft caresses across his skin, puffs of warm air escaping Sebs own mouth to his trembling skin.

Sweet and wanting, patient and kind. He fell in love with the daydreams.

He fell in love with him- even more that is. It had been a long time since those feelings had settled inside of his stomach, bubbling and shy- most familiar with his schoolboy blush painting his cheeks a rosy color.

He gazes with want, a need seeping into his pores, his rough skin- dry parts oversaturated with the utter hunger.

It's unnatural, most would say, but it comes so easily to him. He doesn't even have to tell himself to breathe, to keep going. To put a mask on.

Why is he so good to him?

A smile is all it takes and his skin lights with a new kind of fire, the ones told in the Bible that makes the people swell with contempt, to look down and see a swine ready to roast. But if he's the swine, nobody would touch him. No one would consume him like Seb.

Edward likes his lips. Soft, and sometimes pouting. They have crumbs after he eats, and he wipes them away so carelessly, without thinking.

Edward thinks, how lucky those bits are. To be clinging onto the holy land. The crevices and dips. He wishes he could wash himself in every bit of him, the human need to consume to keep moving forward. To breathe, but to him, it's a need and a want.

He's needed to do things all his life. He's had to keep his face rigid, keep his head down. Edward brushes his teeth in the morning and at night. The patience he finds barely dwelling in the soles of his shoes, the ones that snugly wrap around his form. He finds those things actually do want him somewhere, even if it's for a parasitic hole to fill.

If it wasn't for the warm nights Seb and him spent in each other's beds, the shushed giggling and whispers to each other, eyes glazing over with joy only found in that of a child- would he still be here today?

Edward finds solace in that- those small moments. So small and almost insignificant but it stirs something in his chest, where his heart would be. Is it so wrong of him, a creature like him, to feel cared for in the loop of those memories?

Edward back then, with his hand in Sebastians. It feels soft, inexperienced. Innocent.

If Edward shifts his hand, he can feel the ever so slight scars Sebastian has on his knuckles from mundane accidents, small things that happen to a body. There's always something out there.

It isn't that he grew without a single smile, it's that it wasn't directed at him. For all the grades he could achieve, for all the complex chemicals he could stain his hands with, burn- it wouldn't ever make up for the lack of presence.

When he turned his shoulder, who could he turn to? Who could he ramble to about what his puzzles meant in his head, what fascinations he read in his books?

Sebastian. He listened. When they met, a foreign face on the playground as a warden pushed him along, his legs awkward and lanky, trying to learn about the new land forced upon him.

And when a sweet smile came, towards him, how could he not just cry?

Days spent together, then months. Then years. It piles onto the other like children's play toys, a castle built out of straw. Edward wants to keep building it, but he doesn't know how. Which piece fits what hole, goes in what direction, or if he should even put the piece down. Would it collapse the whole thing? Could he handle having to rebuild it all over again?

Indulgence is something he can find in his waking world. He can, he could. Will he? Does he?

Of course not. If he goes too fast, building and building, what if it all just tumbles down?

What if he- what if that-

There's an everlasting ache in between his ribs, in the shallow parts of his sternum and into his nerves, running along his heart and encompassing the wet flesh, that he can't bear to look at. Edward, if he looks at it for too long, will his castle break down or just simply disappear?

Edward tries to fix it. He tries to reach out but there's a barrier, cold, yellow, sticky and uncomfortable. A meaty texture against his own fingertips, asking to swallow his flame, whatever is left of the running wax along the candle, to take it all.

He can sludge his hand through it, the material stretching and stretching, but never fully accommodating, never freeing him.

It's suffocating to be so far away from Sebastian, he's just on the other side of the wall. He can see him, a muddied view of him. It contorts and smiles, and frowns. It's never fully clean from Edwards side.

Space. Space as it is taken up by someone like Edward, then by someone like Sebastian. How do these two people interact with each other? Others?

Can they smile, laugh, lay their hand on someone else's? Does their breath feel warm or sickly? Do goosebumps run along their skin like delicate spider legs webbing a home?

What is Edwards home?

Simply- Sebastian.

It isn't as if Edward doesn't realize this need, the want. But he ignores it, lets it grow and fester like mold until it needs more sustenance. Until it needs something- someone- to dedicate itself to. To worm its way inside so deeply the host would tear its very own self in two if it tried to save itself.

He searches for help elsewhere instead, turns his back to Sebastian and locks himself behind doors to keep whatever feeble image he can keep in his mind for just the idea- of continuous friendship.

Edward knows, he knows he isn't doing it all right, but he doesn't know if he's doing it so bad as to suspect anything. All his eyes can seem to see past is his rims into the screen he types into, fingers nimble and rushed- without a holster.

He has questions, so many. They crawl at the crevices, slip into new crooks and nooks, hide themselves for a week then return tenfold with a new sentiment. Thoughts that evolve as he does too, cutting snippets of his hair shorter. Although, jaggedly done. He runs his hands around the tips, the frayed ends and the reserved supple skin he has under his jaw. How it spreads across his face in smooth terrain here and there, making him look soft. Filtered.

Edward can feel it, the venomous need to take, take, take. Not just in general, but from Sebastian directly. If he places his hand over his chest, tugging open the button up he always shrugs on in the mornings, buttons frayed and popping out with the force, Edward would see the gaping misshapen infant that lies dormant in him. The child, from age 6 to 11. From 13 to 19. Numbers, he's good at that. Really good at that.

But he can't. He doesn't look at it. But it screams, all the time. It can't breathe, it can't breathe. It can't breathe.

But hardly can he.

He forces it, shallow breaths, then deep ones. It makes his chest expand, the infant swallowing it whole, hardly leaving any for him. Edward is too generous, too righteous to it. If only he'd drown it, like he did to those rats so long ago.

But he can find air. In Sebastian, when he can't avoid another call or another inviting text. When the heavy feeling in his compressed lungs gives in and his hands, clammy with virtuous sweat, peck his lips as it drips down his nose and forehead.

So eager.

‘Yes please. Let's do that. When can we meet up?’

‘Friday? Can't we do Wednesday? Aren't you free then-’

Oh, he shouldn't know that. Backspace. Do over.

Please don't think he's weird. Please don't think he's odd. Or too much, maybe it's cute. Endearing. What does Sebastian think?

The slope of his back hurts, itches and aches and makes him lean his neck back, sighing and scratching away at his chest. The humid feeling in between his legs is uncomfortable, rigid, noticeable.

Edward doesn't hold himself back when he's invisible. He always is, but here- in here- he's not so alone. Not as he scrounges his latest pics and huffs hot gapes of air above him, imagining it's Sebastian soft, smooth lips across his neck and running his tongue along his own. Together, living and breathing as one.

Edward feels his hand in his, his skin smelling of summer- as if he was a peach growing on a tree- inviting. Asking to be eaten.

Sebastians image, his locks curling across his face and falling over his shoulders and scrunching up as the strands got shorter. His smile stretched like the apple slices he used to feed Edward, by hand as he leaned his shoulder onto his and he held back a burning expression of innocence. Shying in regards to touch but ever wanting more of it.

If Edwards hands tremble down across his back he feels the bark of life, green and forest and full of human acceptance. He imagines he'd never let go.

It's then ravenous, hungry and devoid of care for creation, because for Edward, destruction is creation if it's made from devotion.

When his walls litter with pictures of Sebastian, isn't that devotion?

When his cameras fill up, with angles he should only be privy to if Edward was as close as he makes himself to be, isn't that devotion?

And isn't it devotion to see the nude self, of the one he dedicated himself to most?

Isn't devotion part of love?

Edwards' flame rises, with a need to extinguish others. The infant that lives inside of him, fueling a cycle that scorches him from the inside out. He lives in anger, bathes in it, eats from the marrow that grows it. Anger is what is devoted to him.

Angry that Sebastian holds the perfection in him that he can't hold, he can't possess to take inside of his own soul. Why can't he touch a tender feeling like joy?

And it feels like spring, leaves curling and petals spreading towards the sun. Sebastian is the sun, he smells of it. He breathes air into Edwards lungs, like a beaten dog on its last legs.

But Edward must have more, he deserves it. He has to, for all that he is done. There's always more, Sebastian can give. An ever flowing fountain of kindness Edward can't satiate himself with, murmurs of forgiveness for odd accidents and brushes of his skin, prolonged stares responded with reassuring awkward laughs.

He's Edwards. In not just possession, but in being. What he does, it's his. They are one, no? Isn't what love is, no?

No?

It's a foreign word, days spent ogling too much to the point of a raised brow.

It doesn't ring into his chest, much less his mind. In his ever-aching infant's heart. Tender in the way it wails but never understands. Perhaps it never will.

[eternally-daydreaming]

and in the middle of my chaos, there was you

the first installment of my kinnporsche short fiction collection. i hope you enjoy!

p.s. check out the end notes on ao3 for a longer explanation of my plan for this series :)

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Kinn just wants to go home.

It’s late, nearing midnight. He’d been on his feet all day, first attending meetings the entire morning in varying rooms at the compound followed by a trip to one of the Theerapanyakul casinos. He’d already been cranky from the meetings, and the insufferable manager refused to come clean about some missing funds.

Not only that, but some minor clan from the other side of the city decided to ambush Kinn right then and there, so he had to abandon his interrogation of the casino manager in exchange for leaving the scuffle with his life intact. One minute he’s talking through gritted teeth at this guy, the next he’s sprinting and ducking as bullets fly over his head.

By the time he’s escaped the firefight he’s whisked back to the compound for a quick change and freshening up, before he’s back in the car and arriving at a charity gala in one of the family hotels. It’s truly Kinn’s favorite activity; being driven to the point of insanity and getting ambushed, followed by hours of playing nice to sleazy Bangkok socialites.

And to top it all off, he hasn’t seen Porsche at all today. The younger had woken up before he did, his side of the bed empty when Kinn rolled over to hug his lover. Kinn met cool sheets and merely sighed in resignation.

Since Porsche became head of the minor family two months ago, their time spent together has been tragically limited to meetings between the two factions and what nights Porsche can manage to make it back home if there isn’t more work that needs to be done.

It’s draining, and frankly, Kinn feels ragged and wrung out like a towel.

The minute they return to the compound Kinn’s bursting out of the car, waving off all his bodyguards and heading for the elevator. The ride up seems to last for an eternity, and Kinn can feel the festering irritation swell like a balloon in his chest.

He’s entering his private suite in a few quick strides, ready to rip the tie around his throat into pieces and maybe scream, when he notices it.

The bathroom light is on. Someone’s humming.

Kinn would know that low hum anywhere. He’d know it even in his dreams.

Porsche is in the bathroom, shirtless with a pair of sweatpants on, leaning over the sink with his face close to the mirror. Even from where he stands, nearly five feet away, Kinn can feel the steam from the shower wafting out of the room.

He looks at Porsche’s face, and it’s as if everything slows down to a gentle stop.

The lower half of his face is covered in thick, white shaving cream, swathes of dark skin becoming visible as Porsche carefully pulls the razor downwards. He rinses the blades in the sink after each pass, then continues.

Whatever chaos happened today, it’s now in the back of Kinn’s mind. A whisper on the wind. To be forgotten, at least for now. The sheer domesticity of Porsche, in his bathroom, doing something as mundane as shaving, is exactly what Kinn needed.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring, tie half undone in his hand, until their eyes meet in the mirror. Porsche’s entire face lights up and Kinn feels the balloon in his chest pop.

“Hey, Kinn,” Porsche says, voice impossibly tender. His eyes glow with love as they continue looking at each other through the mirror.

Kinn enters the bathroom completely and walks right up to Porsche. He leans in, nose nudging the younger’s freshly shaven cheek, then kisses it. It’s soft beneath his lips, smelling of soap and something distinctly Porsche.

“Hi, my love,” Kinn whispers against skin. He wraps his arms around Porsche’s waist, burying his face into the nape of his neck as he embraces his lover from behind. He feels the slight shake of Porsche’s shoulders, the little rumble of fond laughter underneath his hands. It’s everything he’ll ever need.

Kinn is home.

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Available on AO3

Collection Masterlist

[suna-reversed]

Somebody else

sukuna x reader/ yuuji x reader

wherein, your best friend takes over your lover’s body

decided to combine these two👀

(❤️=size difference)

Warnings/Tags- dub con, unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, choking, nipple play, mirror sex, degredation, slapping (once), spit kink, size kink, oral (m.receiving), bulging, slight exhibitionism?, yandere themes heavily implied! (all characters are aged up‼️)

The arrangement, per say, was quite peculiar. But you somehow still managed to work it out, much thanks to Yuuji’s patience and his willingness to allow such a thing. 

You couldn’t remember when it started, perhaps it was your constant bickering with the mouth on Yuuji’s cheek or how it always seemed to show up whenever you were around, or perhaps it the time he saved your life during one particularly tedious mission, surprising everyone else.

Whatever it was, it had ended up making the king of curses grow a soft spot for you. Well, at least what would be considered soft for a curse. It was never acknowledged except for the one time you went to sleep in between tattooed arms and woke up to the face of your best friend staring intently at you, 

“It’s okay, as long as you’re happy.” He’d said. You didn’t pay much heed to why he hadn’t removed his body from yours. 

Time with Sukuna was scarce, most of it being when Yuuji would be too tired after a mission and involuntarily shift, leaving you alone in the hours of dusk with your lover, as he drove his lips all over your body, moaning filthy things in your ear as he rut into you- you could only hope your best friend was unconscious all throughout it. 

----

You were on your knees in between Sukuna’s legs, taking as much of his huge girth down your throat as you could, your hands taking care of what your tongue couldn’t. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you don’t fail to miss the smug look on his face as you desperately whine around his cock. You know he’s just playing, god forbid he ever cums anywhere except for deep inside your cunt. 

“Begging for my cock already- how pathetic.” 

His voice is gravelly calm, sending a shiver straight down your spine. You whine once again as he slightly bucks his hips up, your mouth struggling to encompass his massive member. One of his hands comes to grip your hair, your moan coming out muffled against a mouth full of cock. 

“So desperate for it, aren’t you? Well, if you want it so bad you’d better start taking it-” He’s cut off with a groan, “Ah- shut up brat-” 

You somehow get the feeling that he wasn’t talking to you, but you don’t have much the time to ponder over it as the hand on your head starts pushing down urging you to start moving once again. 

“Fuck fuck- stop it! No-”

His voice is laced with genuine annoyance and you hurriedly pull yourself off of him, brows scrunched in confusion as you look up at him, wondering what you were doing wrong. 

The face that stares back at you however is chillingly unfamiliar, a cheshire grin spread across it which makes the marked face of your lover seem like it is of a madman. You’re thoroughly confused by Sukuna’s behaviour- you know he’s complex at times but you’re truly at a loss of comprehension this time. 

“Did I say that you could stop?” 

You instinctively shake your head, no words leaving your mouth as you remain stunned with his strange behaviour. 

His hand comes to caress your cheek, thumb moving to brush against your bottom lip,

“C’mere” he mumbles, and your body seems to move on it’s own, as you move your face close to his. The thumb on your bottom lip prods at your skin until you open your mouth and Sukuna brings his head to rest against yours- you’re too enchanted by the feral look in his eyes, gasping at the feeling of his saliva landing against the tip of your tongue. He presses your jaw shut with one hand as you struggle against it,

“Be a good girl and swallow it.” 

His commanding tone instantly has you doing so. You’ve never seen such a side to him, however, you can’t say that you mind it. His grip on your jaw loosens and you let him switch your positions- not like you could’ve fought against his raw strength. His muscular chest is pressed to yours as he pins you down beneath him, one large hand exploring the valley in between your legs, dangerously trailing close to right where you want it to be but never quite reaching there. 

“You like watching this huh?” 

Again, there’s a strange feeling in your gut, but it’s overpowered as two fingers land against your sensitive nub, lightly pinching it which makes you push your hips against his fingers, asking for more. 

A yelp escapes past your lips as he suddenly moves away, getting off the bed to stand at the edge. His cock stands tall against his stomach, tip still dripping with a mix of pre-cum and your spit from before. 

“Come here, slut.” 

You’re a little shocked at his words- used to getting spoiled with praise by this time of your rendezvous. Was he angry about something tonight? 

“No- I forbid you from leaving my arms.” He had said as you cuddled earlier in the night, making you laugh and slap his chest- which was exactly what led to where you were now. He seemed fine before- perhaps he just felt rougher tonight?

“Kitten, don’t make me tell you twice.” 

He growls out loud, snapping you out of your daze. You’re instantly crawling towards him, looking up at him with a mixture of both need and confusion as you wonder what he’s up to. A hand comes down to wrap around your throat, his breath right next to your ear as he leans forward, 

“Next time-” the grip on your throat tightens, “...you listen when I tell you something.” You weakly nod your head, sighing as he pulls away. 

Smack!

The burn on your cheek stings, making tears well up in the corner of your eyes- you look up, only to find yourself staring into a pair of orbs in between crinkled eyes, a smirk resting atop his lips- you almost feel guilty for the arousal that pools in between your legs. 

“Now now, let’s show you what a proper fuck is.” 

You’re being picked up, strong hands coming to knead the flesh of your ass as he walks you two over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room. Before you know it, he’s sitting you down on the chair in front of your vanity table, turning you around so that you’re met with the reflection of your legs spread over his thighs, his cock rubbing against your soaking pussy. 

You throw your head back against his chest as one of his hands moves forward to play with your clit, the other twisting and pinching your nipples. You’re grinding against his wet cock as he increases the pace of his fingers, moaning profanities as his teeth dig into your neck. You feel your orgasm building up, the tight coil in your stomach getting close to bursting and right as you’re there-

“No!” You cry out loud. 

Your eyes meet in the mirror and you’re slightly thrown off by the bewildered expression on Sukuna’s face- almost guilt filled and panicked- his hands completely positioned away from your body. 

“No please- don’t stop- need you filling me up so bad please.” You beg out loud, tears falling down your eyes, the ripples of your ripped away orgasm still pulsing through your body. 

And just like that, it’s gone, and the hunger-filled eyes are back. 

“Oh, she said she wants it- who am I to deny such a precious little thing?” 

You don’t have the time to register his words as strong arms lift you up, positioning his huge cock against your slick heat. You moan at the contact, still sensitive but needy as you clench your eyes in pleasure. 

“Do you know you look real pretty when you cry?” 

Your mind is too fuzzy from the feeling of his tip stretching your insides to respond. A hand comes to your jaw- angling it forward,

“Come on, look at how my cock stretches your tight little hole- how you gush around it like a desperate whore.” You find your eyes opening out of their own accord and almost moan at the sight you’re met with.

His enormous length is almost halfway inside you, the base of his shaft glistening with your dripping juices as your tiny hole struggles to fit all of him in. One of his arms is protectively wrapped around your waist, pushing down against the bulge starting to form on your stomach while the other kneads your tits, pressing them together, pulling your nipples every now and then. His scarlet orbs hold a wild look from where they glance up at you, his face bowed down, teeth biting into your neck. He makes sure you see him smirk against your skin as he pushes himself up deeper into you making you cry out loud. He starts bouncing you up and down on his cock, moving your body like a rag doll as the air is filled with both of your loud groans and grunts.

Yuuji would argue that he’s dreamed about this for weeks- almost months- perhaps from the first time he laid eyes upon you. All those times he had to watch your body underneath his- only to barely be able to feel you, your saccharine moans hitting his ears and him not being the reason for it- it pissed him off beyond reason. He thrusted his hips harder into you, the hand on your tits moving down to rub circles onto your clit. 

“Ah fuck- I’m close.”

That’s right- you were moaning for him now. More than you ever had for the stupid curse. Did he ever fill you up this well? Always handling you like you were as fragile as glass- when this is how a real whore like you wants to get fucked. He feels pride swell in his chest as he hears you crying about how big he is, how well he’s filling you up, how it’s too much- but you’re still crying for him to fill you up aren’t you? All while the king of curses sits back and watches helplessly. 

He feels your walls clamp down on him, your frail little body compared to his thrashing from the overstimulation of pleasure as he continues to fuck you through your climax. He finds his own pleasure not too later, spilling inside you with a loud moan, grinning at the sight of you all fucked out in the mirror- his seed dripping out of your hole as he pulls you up, turning you around so that you’re facing him. Your head falls against his chest, arms coming around his neck- the audacity you have- no, you don’t get to do this shit with him after all the years he took care of you- all the years he spent loving you- only for you to go ahead and open your legs the second a pathetic man with tattoos and a silver tongue showed up. 

“You didn’t think we were done did you?” 

You’re still too exhausted from your previous feat, almost clawing at his body heat being pulled away from you as you’re manhandled onto your knees on the floor. Your pleas are shut down with a single stern look from him- apparently puppy eyes weren’t gonna work on him tonight like they usually do. 

“I’m gonna make sure every single part of your body is covered with my cum by the time I’m done with you. Now suck.” 

Who were you to deny him? Especially when he kept his word, fucking into you all over the bedroom, spilling his load onto your tits, ass, face- everywhere. You were so tired by the end of the night, you didn’t notice how he didn’t run a bath for you or stroke your hair while pressing kisses to marks he’d littered your neck with like always. Instead, the last thing you saw was his back as he walked out the room- did it not have tattoos? You didn’t remember it the next day as you clocked out. 

The next few days are strange- with no sighting of your lover. You assume it’s because Yuuji’s busy with training or missions. That is until you meet him in the cafeteria. 

“y/n! Good morning!” He greets you cheerfully, and you feel a little guilty for wishing he wasn’t in such high spirits- hoping he’d have been tired enough for you to get some time with Sukuna.

“Hey, where have you been?” You ask while leaning into his side hug. Just for the matter of a second, you think you notice a feral look flashing through his eyes- gosh, how much had you missed Sukuna to have to be imagining such a thing. Yuuji is still speaking, his usual happy grin on his face,

“...no worries though, I’ll make sure you get your time with your grumpy big cat.” Your heart warms at your best friend’s considerate offer, knowing his time is limited and he still chooses to give it to you.

“Thank you so much Yuuji! Have I ever told you how grateful I am to have you as a friend?”

“It’s no problem y/n!” He says, ruffling your hair, “As long as you’re happy…”

You do not understand why Sukuna refuses to enter your room that day- insisting you shift somewhere else- or why he refuses to even touch any part of your body where he himself had left marks upon- or why there’s an air of jealousy and possessiveness to him as he bends you over the couch, hands tied behind your back while he ruts into you like an animal in heat, promises of fucking you better than ever before being grunted into your ear.

Taglist- @bakugohoex @mahitochan @saturnmoon @lilshortcakess @itsyaboiana @p-each-y-day @osmosly @jotazinha @captainmads2092 @laura-marie-16 @tsuki-kusa

Thanks to my masochist baby @bakugohoex for helping with the idea🙄🙄 no I’m not killing the reader❤️

[myherowritings]

PART 7. WHAT’S BETTER THAN EATING THE RICH? THE RICH EATING YOU OUT

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 4.7k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. the filthiest thing i’ve ever written, fem!reader for this part and shouto uses “princess” an excessive amount of times, sir kink i’m sorry, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (just bc i totally forgot abt condoms ok my bad), too much foreplay?, shouto’s a soft dom i think?, very much so 18+!!! and the title is exactly what it sounds like

A/N. here we are !! the final part !! my first shouto series i didn’t put on hiatus LMAO,, the moment you’ve all been waiting for HFSJKG ;) this was very fun to write i hope it’s not too bad BHFBDSHS i’m so in love with ceo!shouto and this series was my fav to write in a while!! now without further ado pls enjoy some smut with feelings :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

You almost didn’t make it into the elevator to Shouto’s penthouse before you wanted to pounce on him, but to your complete frustration, he was showing such restraint that the only contact he let you make was holding his hand. 

For someone who was so eager to kiss you earlier, he was showing a lot of patience now, you thought with a huff. 

You tapped your foot against the tile flooring as Shouto took his sweet time unlocking his suite. Even when he entered, instead of taking you straight to the bedroom like you anticipated, he pulled out two glasses and filled them with water. 

Handing you one, he asked, “Did you want something to eat?” 

“No. ‘M not hungry right now,” you mumbled, trying not to appear too pouty. 

Apparently, it didn’t work very well since he stifled an amused chuckle. “How about some water?” 

Your eyes narrowed but you begrudgingly accepted the glass. “Hmph.” 

“Someone seems a little tired right now, hmm?” he placed his glass down and led you towards his bedroom. “Maybe we should go straight to sleep—”

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. “Shouto,” you whined, drawing out the ‘o’ sounds, your lower lip jutting outwards in a frown.

“Yes, Y/N?” His tone was too innocent for the events he had in mind for the night. 

“If you don’t take me to bed and fuck me right now, I’ll…”

“You’ll…?” Shouto teased, but the darkened gaze in his eyes told you his own restraint was wearing thin. 

You turned away with a huff. “I’ll be upset!” 

“Well, we don’t want that.” He laced his fingers through yours, bringing your hands up to his lips to give them a kiss. You were slightly placated, but that was still nowhere near the amount of contact you desired. “But I think you’d find it more comfortable if we continue this with your dress off first. Come.” 

Your stomach clenched at the simple command and you willfully followed behind him into the second door to the right. You hardly had time to admire the design of his room and size of his bed before Shouto moved from his spot next to you to one behind you. He placed one hand on where your waist met your hip and the other on the small of your back, making your spine straighten at the touch. 

“Did you need help taking your dress off?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. 

“Yes, please, sir,” was your airy reply. 

His breath caught in his throat and his grip on you tightened. When he spoke, his voice was hoarser than normal. “Since you asked so nicely.”

So, he liked when you called him sir? You made a mental note of that with a smirk. 

But your cocky expression didn’t last very long when Shouto skillfully unfastened the top few buttons of your dress, softly placing his lips on your now exposed skin and gently planting kisses all the way down your back. He didn’t stop until he reached the curve of your ass, unbuttoning the final button and nipping a kiss right at the base of your spine. You jolted, hugging the fabric of the dress to your chest so you wouldn’t be completely exposed. 

“Finished unbuttoning your dress for you, princess,” he said, placing one final kiss on your spine before gently twirling you around to face him. At your flustered gaze, he smiled. “Now what would you like for me to do to you?” 

You lifted your chin despite your slight embarrassment at having to voice your desires. “I want you to kiss me.”

“Hm. Have I not been kissing you this whole time?” 

“On the lips,” you emphasized, tugging at his tie as you tried to pull him closer to you. You batted your lashes at him. “Could you please kiss me on the lips, sir?” 

A small chuckle escaped him, but he was happy to oblige. “You know, you’d be good in business. You certainly know what to say to get what you want, hmm?”

You answered with a smile as he finally—fucking finally, after a whole week of waiting—pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and warm and tasted like strawberries and ice cream, his favorite flavor of the candies the two of you stole from the gala. 

Delicious. 

Shouto must’ve thought the same thing since, not long after the start of the kiss, he coaxed your mouth open with his tongue, deepening the movements, one hand softly cupping the area where your head met your neck while the other was hot against your exposed lower back. He applied the slightest bit of pressure at the right time—just enough to make you sigh in pleasure. 

Your own hands found a way to tangle themselves in Shouto’s hair, completely abandoning their job clutching your dress to your body. Now, you were so tightly pressed up against him, the only thing that could possibly keep the fabric up was his chest against your own. One sudden movement and it might just…  

He nipped at your lower lip with his teeth and you jumped, gasping at how good the light stinging sensation felt. You felt your dress slip down your body to expose the swell of your breasts, but before it could fall any further, Shouto gingerly picked you up and laid you down on his bed. 

“Oh—” you managed to say as your head landed on a pillow and your back on the plush, silk sheets that covered the mattress.

His left arm rested on the pillow beside your head as he hovered over you. “Have something to say, princess?”

“Y-You may continue,” you sniffed, lifting your chin up. Your heart skipped a beat at the teasing pet name and then another beat when Shouto leaned down to give you a kiss. But instead of landing on your mouth again, he chose to leave an open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive part of your neck, gently biting and sucking at the skin. 

His feathery light touches tickled you, your nerves working on overdrive and every stroke feeling like it was amplified. You couldn’t help but giggle at his soft nibble and he paused to look at you questioningly. 

“Tickles,” you replied, laughing at his confused expression. “But it feels nice.”

Shouto hummed, the vibrations buzzing against your neck. “That’s good to hear.”

Returning to your lips, he kissed you with a smile creeping on his face and you returned it. His forehead rested against yours as you toyed with the fabric on the front of his suit. You unknotted his tie as your lips clashed against each other, the motion no longer soft and gentle but instead more fervent and intense. 

Finally getting his tie to come undone, you flung it off the bed and worked to unbutton his shirt collar, not caring if it got wrinkled in the process. Shouto reciprocated the eagerness by sucking the tip of your tongue with his mouth before pulling away from you completely. 

A whimper left your lips at the sudden loss of warmth and you couldn’t help but pout, grabbing at his shirt again to pull him back.

“Be a good girl and be patient, okay?” he said, running the tip of his index finger against your jawline. 

You huffed. “I’ve been plenty patient. I want you to do something now!” 

In other times, you’d probably be embarrassed about how whiny you sounded, but at this moment all you wanted was for Shouto to finally touch you more. 

He nipped at your collarbone before looking down at you. “Hm. Are you a princess or a brat?”

“I can be both. I’m very multifaceted,” you said haughtily, sticking your tongue out to let him know you were only joking. 

“You are,” he agreed. 

It seemed Shouto decided to finally listen to your pleas since his attention swiftly returned to that of your neck, dragging his lips down until he reached the swell of your breast. Over the fabric of your dress that was barely clinging onto you, he placed wet, open-mouthed kisses over your chest, his teeth accidentally grazing against your nipple. 

You cried out quietly and he felt encouraged by the sound, this time taking your peak into his mouth with purpose. He formed his mouth into the shape of an ‘o’ and softly sucked your nipple, the tip of his tongue making circles around the bud. His saliva wet the fabric of your dress, leaving you to shiver at the cold against your wet breast when he pulled away from you. 

“S-Shouto,” you whimpered, squeezing your legs together to relieve some of the tension. “More.”

“More? What exactly do you mean by that?” 

“I want you to…” You gestured towards your body. 

“To what? Take your dress off and fuck you? Or just continue playing with your breasts?” he asked, listing off suggestions in a low rasp. He kissed below your chest and down your stomach all the way to your navel. “Or maybe you want me to go lower until I reach that pretty pussy of yours.”

You nodded fervidly, not trusting your voice. “A-All of the above?”

He chuckled in amusement but was ready to dutifully continue his work.

“But…” you murmured, running your hands down his half-unbuttoned shirt. “I want to see you too.” You looked down at his crotch area then back at his face, biting your lip nervously. “And I want to make sure you’re also having a good time.” 

A guttural noise sounded from the back of his throat as he ran his hands down your body, giving you an appreciative look. “I’m having the best time.” He kissed you chastely. “Are you?”

You looked like a mess sprawled out on his bed, dress half hanging onto your chest and the fabric of the skirt only covering one of your legs. You didn’t know for sure the state of your hair and makeup, but you were sure it was thoroughly roughed up as well. “I think it’s quite obvious I am, sir.” 

Shouto smirked, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. “Good.” 

Instead of answering him, you brought your fingers to the lower-half of his shirt, unfastening the final buttons and untucking it from his suit pants. His shirt hung open, exposing his lean yet muscular torso. You ran your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, absentmindedly brushing against his nipples which caused him to shiver. When you reached his collar, you threw the fabric behind his shoulders and he got the message to take his shirt off. 

“So pretty,” you whispered breathlessly.

“Your turn.” Slowly, Shouto slid down the silky fabric that was just barely covering your breasts all the way to your navel. He tapped your thigh and said, “Up,” and you immediately obliged, lifting your lower body up so he could remove the dress completely. 

Taking his sweet time—much to your frustration—he folded the dress and placed it on a dresser near his bed. When he turned his gaze back to you, you were holding your arms over your chest, feeling bare in nothing but your panties with sheer detailings. 

His stare burned holes into you. You felt like his gaze was leaving a trail of fire against your skin. Shouto’s expression looked sensual but soft as he admired you, giving you enough confidence to lay your arms down by your sides instead of over your chest. He zeroed in on your breasts as he gave them a kiss. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered and your cheeks burst into flames. Your whole body felt hot as you folded one leg over the other so he couldn’t see the arousal gathering at your thin undergarments.

Noticing the movement, he raised a brow at you and uncrossed your legs with his large but slender hand, his grip firm on your thigh to prevent you from covering yourself like that again. Shouto pressed one of your thighs into the bed with his palm, and your other thigh with the gentle weight of his knee, holding your legs open for him. 

The cool air from his room hit your wetness seeping through your underwear and you felt yourself clench around nothing. 

You shifted under his weight, desperate for some release. “Shouto, please.”

It seemed he no longer had the restraint to tease you further since he nodded, moving lower down the bed so his face was hovering above your clothed pussy. “May I?” 

“Fuck— Yes,” you moaned, core heating up in anticipation. 

Shouto landed his lips on your fabric-covered cunt, licking a stripe across your slit. Your growing arousal mixed with his spit through your panties, a lewd noise sounding when he pried the fabric away from your pussy. He slid them off your legs, holding it up to examine the arousal slick on the garments. As if he had no shame, he politely folded it and placed it on top of your dress with a smile. 

“T-That’s not what a gentleman would do,” you managed as he returned to his position in bed in front of your now-bare cunt. 

“And what is it that a gentleman would do, princess?” he whispered dangerously close to your most intimate parts. “This?”

Without warning, he tenderly kissed the bud between your legs. You moaned, legs attempting to kick out in surprise and pleasure, but they remained immobile since Shouto held them down in place. 

“Or perhaps this?” Shouto ran his tongue down your folds and back up to your clit, rubbing small and steady figure eights against the sensitive nub. 

“Yes!” you cried out, canting your hips towards his mouth in pleasure. “Oh, god— Yes to all of it. Please… Don’t stop.” 

“I won’t.” He hummed as he continued his ministrations on your pussy, the vibrations shooting right up your core and causing more wetness to seep out onto his face, but he didn’t let that bother him. In fact, it only seemed to encourage him further. 

Not removing his mouth from your clit for even a second, Shouto hooked one of your legs over his shoulder while leaving the other flat against the silky sheets of his mattress. He dragged his opened mouth down to your dripping pussy lips and entered into your slit with his tongue. The new position sent ever more waves of euphoria through you and Shouto licked and sucked at your folds. 

You lifted your hips higher and he nuzzled his head deeper, his tongue reaching places you had only ever imagined. The lewd noises of Shouto’s mouth smacking against your slick cunt filled the quiet room. As you moaned, your hands threaded themselves into the base of his hair, lightly tugging him even closer than either of you thought possible. 

With his hand that wasn’t holding your thigh down, Shouto found his way to your chest, reaching up to palm at your breast all while still sucking your pussy. He flicked your nipple and gently rubbed it with his thumb and forefinger. Your breathing hitched at the mix of sensations, your core tightening and heating up as Shouto continued to eat you out. “Fuck— Oh— Shouto!” you cried, unable to hold back the volume of your voice. 

As if he knew what was coming, he removed his hand from your breast and briefly paused, though his face was still resting against your thigh and pussy. “Not yet, princess. Do you think you can hold on for me?” 

You whimpered at the thought of postponing your release, but you trusted that he would make up for the wait. “Okay, sir. For you.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Shouto continued his attack on your cunt with his lips, this time bringing his hand down to rub lazy circles around your clit. His tongue was deep in you, his nose teasingly bumping against your sensitive bud as his fingers flicked against it harsher. Rougher. He nuzzled his head from side to side to hit places far within you as you whimpered and moaned. 

The stimulation of both his fingers and his mouth on your pussy was almost too much to handle as your thighs quivered and your cunt clenched uncontrollably. 

“S-Shouto, please I—” Your voice broke off as a moan of pleasure ripped through you. 

“You can come now, princess,” he murmured into your folds, the vibrations only pleasuring you even further. 

And so you did. 

You felt yourself orgasm as Shouto continued to suck at your cunt and brush against your clit, moving slower and more gently as you came down from your high. 

When he finally looked up from your pussy, the lower half of his face glistened with your fluids, sending you into another state of desire. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you want more of him. 

Shouto smiled as he wiped the fluids of your arousal and ecstacy on his chin with his index finger. Instead of taking it into his mouth, however, he held it in front of your lips. “Look at the mess you made for me, princess. See how good you taste.” 

After only a moment’s hesitation, you brought his finger that was coated in your arousal into your mouth, swirling your tongue around and sucking him, giving him an idea of what you would do if that were his cock. You released his finger with a soft ‘pop’ and smiled innocently at him. 

“Are you going to fuck me now or should I suck you off first, sir?” you asked, tone of voice all too pleasant. 

His bulge strained against the snug fit of his pants and you wanted nothing more than to relieve some of his pressure. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to take my cock into your mouth, but right now I just want to feel you around me. Is that okay?” 

“That’s fine with me!” You nodded eagerly, the thought of being filled up with Shouto now taking over your mind completely. 

He chuckled at your excitement, though he was feeling the same thing himself. Swiftly, he removed his belt and took off his suit pants. You helped by tugging his black boxer briefs down and watching gently stroking his erect shaft in awe. 

Was every part of Shouto pretty? He was just a gift that kept on giving. 

Your mouth almost watered in anticipation, biting your lip as he lowered you back against the mattress, your head falling onto the plush pillows. He positioned his member against your slit that was still dripping wet from his spit and your first orgasm. 

Shouto rubbed his tip against your already sensitive clit and your slightly parted folds, not yet entering deep enough to satisfy you. He moved his cock back and forth against your pussy as you both watched, the fluids of your arousal and his mixing for further lubrication. Your eyes were fixated on the sight, the thick head of his member disappearing into your sopping pussy lips before coming back out, slowly getting you prepared for his full length. 

It was sweet of him to be so patient, but you were on the verge of tears at the frustration you felt. “Please, Shouto! More.” 

“What should you call me again, princess?” he drawled, continuing the leisure movements of rubbing his head against your lips. The fluids smeared all over your pussy and dribbled down onto your thighs and his bedsheets. If you weren’t so aroused, you might’ve been a bit embarrassed. But there was no time for that when all you wanted at this very moment was for Shouto to fuck you silly. 

“Sir—!” you corrected yourself in a whimper. “Please, sir, I want your fat cock to fill me up.” 

He groaned at your words, pulling out of your folds until only the very tip of his dick was touching you and then thrusting forward into your wet depths as you let out a loud cry of pleasure. You felt a stretch inside you as you adjusted to his length, Shouto taking note of how you stiffened and giving you time to get more comfortable. 

He began to nibble at your breast, sucking and biting your perk nipples as your arousal built. He nipped you, causing you to gasp in surprise (a very pleasant surprise) before soothing the bite with his tongue. As you arched your back, he swirled the tip of his tongue around your nipple and you hooked your leg around his hips, pushing into his lower back with your calf to signal for more.

“Ready now?” 

You nodded fervently. 

“Words, princess.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” you managed, voice shaky from your gratification being filled by Shouto. “Use my pussy to make you feel good. Please.”

“You always make me feel good, Y/N,” he said sincerely, removing his mouth from your breast to kiss you on the lips. Your tongues intertwined and you tasted yourself on him. “You’re amazing, you know?” 

You smiled into the kiss. “Show me how amazing you think I am with your cock then.”

“Anything for my princess.”

With that, he pounded into you, holding you at the waist to steady your squirming. You hitched your leg higher and higher around his back, canting your hips to let him thrust into you at deeper angles until he hit the spot. 

“Oh—! Oh, god,” you mewled in satisfaction, his cock making you feel so good you were certain your eyes almost rolled back into your head. “Fuck, right there, Shouto— Yes!” 

At your vocal encouragement, Shouto pushed into you even deeper, his swollen tip rubbing into you at the perfect angle. Your head lolled to the side and your cheek pressed against the soft pillow as you salivated at the intense feeling of his cock thrusting in and out of your weeping pussy. 

“Mn,” he made a noise, softly tapping your cheek. “Keep your eyes on me, princess. Don’t look away.” 

You struggled to blink away how dazed you felt, feeling so good it was almost unbearable. Somehow, you managed to turn your head back to face him, trying to hold eye contact. “‘M sorry. You feel so good,” you sighed contentedly. “Like your cock was made for me.” 

He held your leg higher and you just about screamed from pleasure. “You feel so good too,” he said, one hand stretching your leg up and the other reaching down to toy with your clit. “Never want this to end.” 

With his fingers and thumb rubbing against your clit and his member hitting your g-spot, you were certain your throat was going to grow hoarse by the end of the night from all your screaming. You swore you saw stars.

“Want to,” you panted, thrusting your hips up to match his movements, “do this...with you...every...day.” 

“Please.”

When his lips found your breast again to tug at your nipple, you couldn’t help yourself any longer. 

“S-Shouto, I— I’m going to come,” you told him, voice pleading. You really hoped he let you come. 

He hummed in agreement. “Me too. Come with me, princess.” 

You lifted his head from your breasts to meet your mouth, kissing into him as you both felt the sweet release of pleasure coursing through your bodies, all the way from the top of your head to the curl of your toes. 

His pace slowed as he carried the two of you through your highs. Shouto removed his finger from its position of making circles onto your clit to let you cool down with him. In a state of euphoria, you kissed him, both of you riding your orgasms until you felt nothing but completely happy and thoroughly satiated. 

Still not taking his lips off of yours, he moved from being on top of you to lying beside you. Your eyes fluttered shut even as you kissed, nuzzling into his hot, sticky body and ready to pass out. 

“‘M sleepy,” you mumbled onto his lips. You just wanted to stay like this. Forever if you could. 

Shouto smoothed down your brow, his thumb moving in gentle strokes. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, princess. Then you can sleep.”

The rational part of you knew it would be best to clean up. But your overwhelming desire was simply to never let go of him. “Wait! I still want you.” Lazily, you murmured, “Let’s do it again.”

“You’re about to fall asleep but you want to have another round?”

You nodded. “I...might fall asleep during it, but yes. Want to do it with you again and again.”

Shouto smiled, shaking his head in amusement. But you pouted. It wasn’t a joke, you meant it. You just wanted to stay by his side. 

“We can,” he said and you instantly brightened up, “another day.” You huffed. “When you can stand on your own two feet without falling over.”

Your lower lip jutted out in a frown. 

“Don’t look so down, princess.” He kissed the top of your head. “It can be tomorrow or the next day.”

Slowly, you perked up again. “Or the day after that? And the next day after that?”

With a laugh, he nodded. “Anytime you want me. I’m yours.”

“I’ll always want you, Shouto,” you told him sincerely, gazing into his eyes.

His face was colored a light pink, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his lips were swollen and bright red. He looked beautiful. It was a sight you’d never tire of.

“I’ll always want you too, Y/N. More than anything. I...love you.”

And in that moment, there was nothing else in the world you would rather hear. No one else you’d rather be with. You were happy to have Shouto and that was better than all the money in the world.

“I love you too.”

— ✩ —

A few days have passed since the fateful night you exchanged ‘I love you’s with Shouto and now you were back at work. 

As usual, you were working the morning shift with some cranky customers, trying your best to make the start of their day go as smoothly as possible. And, as per usual, Shouto walked into the cafe a few minutes after rush hour to spend a part of his morning with you.

“Good morning, sir. How can I help you today?” you said teasingly, giving him a brief kiss over the counter, chaste enough that no one else would notice but you two. 

“Morning, princess.” He smiled. “I’ll have a medium flat white, please.” 

“Of course. And could I interest you in some of our fresh pastries?” you laughed. “Oddly enough, we have your favorite today.”

He perked up at your words. “Cheese danishes?” 

“Yup!”

“I’ll have five boxes of a dozen, please.”

Humming to yourself, you entered his order into the register and told him the price. “Your order will be to your left when it’s completed,” you recited, knowing he’s heard this plenty of times before. After he paid and got ready to walk away from the counter, you playfully called out, “So, no tip this time?”

Shouto smirked, glancing back at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe I can pick you up tonight and give you a tip then.”

“A...tip?” you asked, stifling a giggle behind your hands. “Was that an innuendo?”

“Innuendo—?” A look of realization crossed his face and his cheeks colored. 

You grinned to yourself. As confident and well put together Shouto could be (which you very much enjoyed and found incredibly attractive), you also got extreme pleasure in seeing him blush and grow flustered. 

“No… I didn’t intend it like that.” He paused, thinking on it. “Well, I guess I did. But I didn’t mean to make a pun of it…”

Your laughter rang out across the whole store, smile spreading bigger and bigger. “You’re cute, Shouto. Thanks for the laugh.” 

He looked sheepish but nodded. “Thanks for letting me hear your laugh. It’s radiant.”

“Smooth talker.” You stuck your tongue out. 

“Just the truth.”

“Hmm,” you sighed happily, a feeling of contentment and euphoria settling within you. “But about your tip…”

Shouto blushed. 

“I’d love to come over tonight,” you told him. “Any excuse to see my lovely boyfriend.”

“You never need an excuse to see me. Because I always want to be with you too.” 

The two of you kissed again, unable to help yourselves. Though it was brief and light, it still sent tingles down your spine. 

Shouto was sweeter than any cheese danish or chocolate croissant you could ever make, better than any tip you could ever receive, and you couldn’t wait to continue your life with him. 

a/n: omg...this is the end ╥﹏╥ thank you to every who read and commented and sent asks and just supported this series in general ! it was very fun to write and i have a toothache from all of shouto’s sweetness and fluff hfjhggg tysm for reading ily !! xx sof 

[the-iceni-bitch]

53, 65, 100 w/ Nomad Steve?

53) “Is that a tattoo?”

65) “Pull my hair!”

100) “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

Ahh, nomad!Steve with a tattoo kink and a bit of a possessive streak? With hair pulling?

Nonnie, it’s like you came up with this to torment me specifically.

Smutty smut, no minors!!

You groaned as you tried to take off your shirt, your ribs creaking and a jolt of pain shooting up your side where Sam has caught you.

This almost never happened. You were faster than Wilson, and prided yourself on your ability to dodge every strike he tried to land and turn him into a frustrated mess. You thought you could handle him and Nat at the same time but she was so fucking sneaky that her slap caught you off guard and gave Sam the chance to land a solid kick to your midsection that had sent you flying across the mat.

You could still hear him apologizing as you winced, chewing your lip as you tried to assess whether anything was broken.

“Hey Y/N... what the fuck happened to you?”

“Rogers, perfect! I can’t get out of my shirt.” You said, turning to the giant and flapping your useless arm at him as he looked at you with concern.

“Ok, what do you want me to do exactly?” He said, cocking an eyebrow at you as he watched you struggling.

“Just... just fucking rip it off.” You huffed. “I can’t move my arm.”

He grunted as he stepped forward and gripped your shirt in his hands and shredded it easily, smirking at you as you let out a relieved sigh.

“Oh god, that’s it.” You moaned, rolling your shoulder and pressing your palm to your side as you started moving to the freezer to grab an ice pack.

“Wilson finally manage to land a hit?” He asked as he gazed at you, shaking his head when you hissed at the sensation of the ice on your ribs.

“Yeah, but only because Romanoff fights dirty.” You scowled, sinking onto the bench and lying down as you did your best to take deep breaths.

“Yeah, I could’ve told you that.” He said as he sat next to you. “Is that a tattoo?”

“What?” You said before realizing he’d never seen you with this little clothing on before. “Uh, yeah it’s a tattoo.”

“It’s beautiful.” He muttered, his hand reaching out hesitantly as if he wanted to run his fingers over the skin below your breasts but stopped himself at the last second. “What is it?”

“It’s a rosemaling.” You muttered, watching him closely as his eyes raked over the intricate pattern. “Norwegian folk art.”

“Can I see the rest of it?” He asked, his eyes dark as he gazed at you, his fingers still itching to reach for your chest.

“Steve, I’d have to take my bra off.” You mumbled as you chewed on your lip.

You’d never seen him like this. Sure, you’d joked with each other and flirted with no real intention before but this heavy exchange was different. Your breath was coming in shallow little pants and you could feel arousal soaking your panties as he scooted closer to you on the bench.

“That’s fine.” He grumbled, his gaze still tracing the path of the ink where it disappeared below the fabric.

He reached out and tugged at the zipper at the front of your bra, his eyes moving to yours as he drew it down slowly, inspecting you closely for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. You just bit your bottom lip and dropped the ice pack to the floor, your injury completely forgotten as he freed your breasts.

“Jesus Christ.” He hissed, running his thumb over the swirls of ink that ran between and under your breasts, tracing the swell of your tits and making you throb with need as you arched into his hand and let out a moan. “How long did this take?”

“Five hours.” You murmured, trying to focus on his questions as the sensation of his fingers on your skin overwhelmed you.

“God, that’s amazing.” He growled before pulling you into his lap and nuzzling himself into your skin.

You gasped as his tongue flicked out to run over the tattoo, the flat of his tongue tracing the curve of your breast as he followed the pattern over your chest. He groaned as he felt the slightly raised ridges of ink against his lips, his mouth insistent against your breasts as he worshipped the art of your skin.

His arms wrapped around you, pressing you into his face as he worked you over. You tangled your fingers in his hair as his beard scratched at you and he trailed over your ink with his lips and tongue. You cried out when he suddenly laved his tongue over your nipple before sucking it between his lips and making you clench around nothing.

“Fuck, Steve! I’m gonna come!” You whined as he moved to your other nipple and repeated the same process.

His only answer was to growl against your chest and press you into his lap as you swallowed a scream, your grip on his hair growing painful as your pussy fluttered wildly and your whole body shook. He held you tightly as you came down, panting against your chest.

“You have any other ink, sweetheart?” He purred as he finally felt you relax, your breath returning to a regular rhythm while you sank into his lap and he started to press soft kisses up your chest until he was mouthing at your throat.

“Yeah.” You grinned as his teeth scraped over your jaw. “Why? You wanna see?”

“Don’t fucking tease me gorgeous.” He growled. “Where is it?”

“Right leg.” You whimpered as he pressed you against his growing erection.

He moved to cover your mouth with his as he tore your leggings off you, his tongue curling against yours in slow smooth strokes as he laid you down on the bench and ground against you. He pulled away to sit up over you, leaving you breathless and needy as he gazed at your thigh.

His breath hitched as he took in the delicate pattern of vines and flowers that covered your entire leg, disappearing under the fabric of you panties as it moved up your hip. He ripped your panties off and traced over the ink lightly with his fingertips as he ran his tongue over his lower lip.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, taking a beat to gaze at you, your spine twisted to the side as you stared up at him.

You gasped as he ran his hand over the back of your thigh, teasing his thumb over your glistening pussy where it was peeking out from between your legs.

He let out a feral growl and then ripped off his clothes in a frenzy. Your mouth started watering when you got a look at his cock, thick and veiny and you weren’t totally sure you could take all of him but damn if you weren’t gonna give it a try.

He hooked his hand under your knee and spread your legs apart, using his other hand to tease his tip against your puffy lips. You let out an obscene moan as he pushed into you, arching your back even more as he slid his tip into your warm cavern.

“Shit, Steve, keep going!” You whined as he kept pulling you down on his length, your pussy fluttering wildly around his length as he stretched you open, a slight sting accompanying the immensely full feeling af being stuffed to the brim.

He hissed through his teeth when his hips met yours and you started mewling and whimpering like an idiot as you adjusted to him.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight.” He muttered, pulling out of you halfway before sliding back in again at a deliciously slow pace.

He pulled out of you again but this time snapped his hips forward viciously, making you scream. His hands kept running over the tattoo on your thigh as he fucked you, his gaze trained on the tattoo under your breasts as your tits bounced with each thrust of his hips. You whined when he hooked your knee over his shoulder, spreading you open even further as he bent over you and ground his pubic bone against your clit.

“Oh fuck, Steve!” You cried as he did the same thing and you started clenching around him with each push of his hips. “Pull my hair! I’m so fucking close!”

He bent over you and pressed his face to yours, his lips tugging at yours insistently until you opened up to him. His hand gripped the hair at the back of your skull and wrenched your head back as he shoved his tongue down your throat.

“Do it. I wanna feel you come all over my cock.” He murmured against your lips as you sobbed with pleasure.

You shrieked as your entire body went rigid before vibrating around his cock as you squirted all over his abs and your eyes rolled back in your skull.

“Shit.” He growled as he buried his face in your neck, his cock throbbing inside you before he filled you with thick white ropes of his cum, fucking it into you with a series of staggered thrusts as the two of you collapsed against the bench.

“So,” you panted as he smothered you under his body weight. “You like tattoos?”

“Love tattoos.” He murmured, pressing his lips to the hollow behind your ear before sitting up and giving you a sloppy grin.

“Maybe I’ll let you watch when I get my next one.” You sighed as he pulled out of you, aftershocks still coursing through your body.

“That may not be the best idea.” He chuckled darkly as he went to grab a towel, biting his lip when he got a view of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy. “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

You rolled your eyes at him, catching the towel he tossed you in mid-air and running it over the inside of your thighs.

“Well, unless you’re gonna give me the tattoo Rogers, I don’t really see how that’s gonna be possible.” Your ribs were starting to ache again, making you wince.

He didn’t have a chance to respond before Nat came strolling into the locker room like nothing was happening, laughing lightly as Steve dove behind the line of lockers and let out a steady stream of curses.

“Goddamn it Romanoff!” He swore at her while you rolled your eyes and tossed his sweats over the lockers to him. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“Ever heard of not fucking in the shared locker room?” She said with a shrug as you wrapped a towel around yourself and gave her an apologetic shrug. “Hey Wilson! They’re finished, you can finally pee!”

——————————————————————————

A/N: Welp, this has officially killed me. I’m gonna go shower now and cool down. 🥵🥵🥵🥵

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Stiller Than a Statue

Another day, another nsfw fic. I'm spoiling y'all 😭😭 Im not only blushing but I’m also set to leave you hot and bothered. (Pssspspsp if you want to get in the ✨mood✨ I can always link you to the songs I listened while I was writing. All you have to do is ask away.) Anyways, I hope you enjoy babes.<3

Summary: Jean is eager to get on his knees for you, no matter the time and place

Pairing: Jean/ Reader

Tags/ Warnings: Nsfw, 18+

The sound of your back hitting the cold tiles of the bathroom stall was admittedly much louder than the hitched breath that escaped you. You barely had time to take back your yelp though before a pair of hot lips launched onto the soft of your neck, placing a variety of soft pecks where ever they could find an open spot.

A mellow shushing murmur left your lover’s lips while a sole slender finger came to brush upon your lower lip ever so slowly; it sent agonizing shivers down your weakened spine, raising the hair on your nape painfully as if to salute him for his sweet assault on your neck.

“Be a good girl for me and stay still and quiet alright baby?”

Jean’s painfully blunt digits were set on your waist, pressing on different areas of your skin with the slightest of pressure, tapping softly in the most teasing manner into the dips of your back. It was hard for you to answer with anything other than a yelp especially when the longing churning of your stomach had just started to make its presence known.

Still, you contemplated on whether nodding was the right answer. Jean was hovering over your ear, leaving dangerously wet breaths just behind your lobe, while his fingertips were finally starting to tease the millimiters of the hem of your skirt. The mellow, occasional contact his fingertitps made with the peach fuzz on your stomach was bound to send waves of agony in your heart, and the vital organ took every little shock proudly, responding with heaping up its fast supply of blood to your whole body.

A single, smoking hot peck was placed onto your right collarbone, the sound it made barely filled your ears through the sound of the loud thud of your heartbeat. You bit your lips, eager to let out a fresh yelp as Jean places another kiss onthe middle of your chest as he pushed past the hem of yout shirt with this jaw.

His hand lost its focus on the hem of your skirt and was set to travel lower, pushing past the soft pleats of cloth and scrunching the fabric until the loose end of your cloth reached to the flat of his palm. Jean pulled away from your face in an instant, giving you enough time to take a good look of the devilish smirk that was plastered on his face.

Jean's hand took a hold of your thigh, hot skin meeting hot skin as he proceeded to drag his touch upwards, towards the dips of your hips. His fingers were on fire today, their teasing reaching an impicable standard as they ticked over the soft skin that protected your hipbone.

Jean allowed a low grunt to escape him, as he feels just underneath your panties, hooking his finger on the hem before tagging on the right side in vain pressure.

"Jean, please" you whined, eyes shut as if it was that only factor that could lower the sound of your voice.

Jean chuckled in reply and placed a soft kiss on your jawline. "I think I told you to be quiet. Do you want us to be found out?"

Jean's hazel orbs glimmered into you as if demanding an immediate answer. You shook your head as some saliva gathered fiercely in your throat, the slight sound of your coughing though was drowned by your surrender to Jean's piercing gaze.

"You're so smug." You chocked.

"Yeah, but you like it, don't you?"

Looking away was the way to go, you decided, or else your heart was going to burst. You felt Jean hook another finger to the other side of your underwear and this time his tagging became evident and exclusively demanding. Thus by submitting to his wordless plea you lifted your knee, wiggling your hips as he pulled the lacy piece of cloth down and off of you.

"You won't be needing them anymore."

You chocked on your moan as Jean left a peck on the top of your shoulder, missing the way he pocketed your white lady underwear like a trophy as the hair on his chin softly scratched your tender, red skin. And then, his knees bucked, his hands leaving your skirt to fall back down on your thighs, as his face came to bump into and between your clothed legs.

"Jean!"

The trim of your skirt was handed to you next, Jean's significantly bigger hand guiding the motion of clasping around the article of clothing.

Your eyes widened as you came into realisation of what he was setting his mind to. The dwelling of the thought in your brain aroused you and you let out an inaudible whine, your stiff back pushing further into the cold tile behind you.

"Mmmh," Jean purred against the skin of your thigh "that's it, let's see if you can keep your moans in."

"You're telling me to be quiet-" you started, but were quickly interrupted by a slow kiss on your thigh.

"But in reality-" you panted, "you're the one talking way too much."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you wished you had kept them to yourself. For starters, they didn't come as smug and teasing as you had wanted them to; your breath was hitched and crushed between the painful lumb in your throat and your larynx. All this, borderline pathetic, attempt to entice in Jean's teasing had only caused his face to be bathed by his own swelling pride.

"Well yeah but my talking won't be a problem anymore."

The dragging tag of his teeth on your tender skin brought goosebumps to your legs, the soft peach fuzz of your hips slightly rising against the tiny light that entered the bathroom.

"Now hold your skirt up for me."

Your gut growled at the words, melting furiously as it begged to make your knees go weak.

There was this everlasting fixation of yours over that phrase; whenever he chose to give this order to you, you simply lost it -and you were sure he was well aware- feeling the need to blindly comply to him and wait to be sent to cloud nine in which ever way he had decided to.

You watched as he closed his eyes, his nose brushing with your hot skin as it huffed teasingly puffs of cold air. His palms came to cup under your buttocks prompting you to let yourself a little loose in the assurance that he held you.

The feeling of safety warmed you up from within, merging with the excitement the location you were in provided you. You simply mewled, feeling yourself give in to Jean's hands, kneeling slightly towards his face. Quickly enough and only when a leg was thrown over his shoulder, your hand shot to his ashy blond locks, your fingers running through the different lengths of his mane.

The anticipation of his tongue didn't kill you unlike what you had previously believed and even though the muscle ghosted over you, it shiftly launched onto you, earning a half loud moan from the depths of your chest.

The flick of his tongue made your toes curl inside your shoes, your lifter leg had instantly transformed in a motionless log. The need to put all the focus to your core was carnal, and it ignited with each stroke of Jean's tongue.

His full top lip brushed over your bundle of nerves teasingly before he pulled back for an instant, just to allow the cold air to hit you. You hissed in response, tagging harshly onto his hair to push him back into you, but only his hand came to sprawl over your lower stomach, his thumb giving a few sensual flicks on the skin just above the are that you needed to feel such friction at.

By the time he dived back in your mind was hazy enough to ignore the mischievous smile he put on. You only felt his nose rub just on the hollow spot where your thigh met the inside of your hip, the teasing ghosting of his tongue hitting you once again.

As he felt the grip on his hair loosen though he took a determined delve, muffling the sound of his slurping with trapping the area he was focusing on with his lips.

His lavishing on you was slow, tormenting and too much all at once, it was overstimulating you to the point your eyes had grown teary, yet Jean was restlessly licking away, twirling and kissing sloppily on you.

He wasn't expecting you to help that loud at a certain flick of his tongue, but when it happen he slowly pulled back, tilting his head to your direction so that you could take a good look at his face.

"Please be quiet" he moaned, planting a hungry kiss over your hip bone.

His hazel eyes were bringing holes into your orbs as they were trapping your attention explicitly. His lips locked on your skin next, giving a harsh suck at the spot as you felt his teeth sinking into the sore flesh.

"Jean, if you- if you, please-"

"Huh? Please what?" He traveled down to your thigh, sulking over the creamy textured skin before worrying it too between his teeth.

"I'm not far!"

"Far from what?" He popped off the now burgundy spot, quickly launching onto another. "Use your words."

While your abdomen begged for attention, Jean returned to your heat, dragging his tongue agonisingly slow all over you.

"I'm listening, (y/n)."

"I want to come." You panted in a soft whine as silently as you could muster, not breaking eye contact with the ashy blond.

"And you want it so much don't you?"

You gulped down, sinking your button lip under your front teeth before nodding vigorously. He spared you an empathetic look as he pouted his lips

"Well too bad, I want to take my time with it."

"Please!" You whined with such a trembling voice.

"Okay then," he panted "your wish is my command."

With that his fingers dug into your buttocks once again, prompting you impossibly onto him. You felt yourself break a little, a small cry leaving you as you felt Jean buck into you further, enjoying your reaction far too much.

When your eyes shut, your abdomen coiled vigorously; your back arched dangerously into Jean's face, your knees completely giving, your weight ploppled onto Jean's palms. You were sure your hands gripped painfully into his hair but you couldn't control your antics. Cold sweat run through your whole body as you supressed what should have been a loud moan, your chest tightening beyond dangerously as your breath trapped itself in your lungs.

As you rode your orgasm out, Jean rubbed his nose against you, not afraid to get messy with the slickness he had caused upon you. The smug smile returned to his face for the thousandth time while he worked on helping you on your feet. Your skirt unravelled down your legs in an instant as he took your hands in his, covering you up in the process.

"Oh fuck Jean, what was thaaaat? Ahhh" You purred, not finding it on you to raise your voice further.

"Mmm, well, don't look at me like that. Weren't you beeeeegging for it a couple of minutes ago?"

You watched as he wiped himself with the back of his hand, his fingers rubbing between his thin goatee, leaving the occasional scratch here and there. The smile he sparred you only made your gut twitch in delight.

"Admit it!"

"What?" You asked, patting your hands over yourself to smooth your clothes while simultaneously looking around for your missing pair of panties.

"Looking for these?" Jean cocked an amused eyebrow at you, flexing your panties onto his pointer finger for you. He only flicked them in his palm as you leaned in and tried to take a grab of them, a deep chuckle escaping him once again. "Admit that you love it when we have sex outdoors!?"

"Isn't that a given fact? Now give me my panties!"

"Ah, ah." He shook his head in denial.

"Huh?"

"If you reeeally want them, you'll come and take them!" He mocket next, stuffing the white pair of knickers in his pocket once again.

"Jean!" You whined, though this time you smiled mischievously at him in the exact same way he did to you.

The ashy blond male took a step in your direction, hovering his tall form over you. His hand came to trap you from your right, pressing up against the cold tiles of the stall so much that his body only moved towards yours.

You let a happy sound leave you when his forehead clashes with yours, your eyes instantly shutting to accentuate the serene expression that was masking your face. Jean let out a half giggle at you, closing his eyes as well while he brought his nose to yours, booping his slender tip over yours as he scrunched up his nostrils.

"Your pus-"

"-Sy is the best? Oh Jeanbo you're so predictable." You laughed and bumped your nose to his further.

"A wonderland, I was about to say wonderland." He laughed back.

"You're also very, very cheesy."

"But you love it!"

His eyes squinted beautifully from the angle you were eyeing him; your heart tugged in your chest upon another glance, enjoying how happy he looked in your pleasurable presence. Dammit, you could never get enough of seeing him like this.

"As much as I love you"

You whispered and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Taglist: @melancholicmonologue @ackermans-freedom-inc @nobody-knows-anymore @berrijam @thethyri @levisbrat25

[introloves]

— werewolf! bokuto + a/b/o + hunter / prey dynamic + knotting + ruts + slight dubcon + hurt/comfort + slight angst + fear + breeding + possessive! bokuto + overstimulation + human! & f! reader

— word count; 1.5k

he kept you warm against the harsh and bitter air from outside, chilling the apartment you both shared.

curling into his warm side, you felt the sleepy, lulled into a nice haze. but it seemed that in finding warmth and comfort, you missed the goosebumps forming against his skin, right against the places your body met his.

he should have been more careful, should have read the signs signaling the oncoming heat.

but he decided that spending time with you this close to the new moon was more worth it, he could hold himself back, contain the fever prickling under his skin.

it was stupid, in trying to prove that he could temper down the other side of him, regain hold of his humanity, he was signing a death wish.

“you okay kou?” you mumbled, sitting up against his squirming body.

the moment he felt you leave his side, he snapped up to grab you, clamping an arm around your upper arm.

he was hot, running at a temperature far too warm to be okay. it made you shake in worry for him, if he was sick he needed to get to the hospital, needed help! he needed-

“i’m so sorry.” he whimpered, or growled, you couldnt tell with the deep rumble that followed a high keen, coming straight from the center of his chest.

it took him no effort, no strength to tug you onto his lap, opening your legs to sit you comfortably over his hips.

he pressed his heated body closer, satiated at how good your smell encompassed him like this. pure instinct driving him to nuzzle in close to your pulse point, laving over it with his tongue, trying to get that sweet smell even stronger.

“sorry? for what...” you whispered, he seemed to be inching closer and closer to a higher heat, but his hands, arms closing down around your body made your head spin. in a finally attempt to reagain any control you uttered out a, “bo- stop we need to get you to the hospital you’re really hot.”

but the way you pushed, futilely, against his chest didnt sit well with him.

it was a lowly growl that made you stop, the sinking of something sharp- right where his hands gripped at your sides made you shut your mouth completely.

“you know there’s something different about me.” he began, words dripping down the side of your neck.

“but you still love me regardless.”

it was all so confusing, you’d never heard him sound like this, didnt think anyone human could produce a tremor this animalistic to their voice.

you’d never been held like this by him, he seemed to be moving, driven with pure adrenaline. shaky hands gripped at the giving flesh, leaving remnants of his heat. anywhere that there was fat, his fingers dug in tight.

“you love me-“ he choked out, his voice returning to his normal tone, tinted by an urgency.

“y/n,” he spat, crazed and rushed. “you need to run. go and lock yourself in the room. dont let me in, under any circumstances.” it wasnt going to be enough to stop him if he tried, but the growing need to do something to keep you safe overruled any other logical thinking.

he pushed you off, planting you on the floor in a hurry, stretching to his full stature, looming over you with a gaze that read; hungry.

you didnt think as you complied with his words, confused at it all. you just wanted to know what happened to your bokuto but with the way everything unfolded before you, there was truly no explanation.

as your feet pounded down the hall, the thought that you were being stalked- being chased after like a little rabbit crossed your mind briefly.

it made your legs move faster, the sound of something big, the sound of bokuto running behind you met your ears. the door of your shared room right against your fingertips.

you almost made it, the thrill of escaping let a laugh bubble in your throat. all before the floor was knocked from under your feet.

bokuto grabbed you before you crumbled down into the floor, planting your face, roughly, under the hallway carpet.

“not fast enough bunny.” he laughed.

“bokuto, whats going on, whats wrong.” you whimpered, but he wasnt listening, couldnt listen to the streams of questions leaving your mouth. all he could focus on was the growing saccharine scent wafting up from your cunt, peaking out from between your thighs. it wasn’t enough, he knew how good you could smell, at the peak of it, when he fucked you nice and hard, you smelled so divine. but it was all tainted by the sickly notes of pure fear, it wouldn’t do, he couldn’t have you smelling like that.

“its okay, i wouldn’t hurt you. have i ever hurt you?” he questioned, all the while sinking down to press his nose right to your cunt.

“n-no. you’ve never h-hurt me.” you bit back a moan when he licked over your cunt, tongue digging into the spot he knew your clit would be.

just like that he had you receptive, willing to do anything, because he was so good to you.

he let you go briefly, all to rip every peice of clothing you and him had on. once again the thought that something was wrong crossed your mind with how easy it was for him.

with clenched teeth, he wrapped his fingers around himself. letting muscle memory guide the tip of himself right into you.

spurred on by a desperate moan leaving your mouth, his name hanging off the tip of your tongue.

it was all okay, he’d fucked you so many times, this was no different?

right?

the sickly scent twisted its notes, entangling itself in your sweetness.

“its okay, my bunny. its all okay. ill fuck you good, like i always do.”

to prove it, he sinks in completely.

but he was overrun with you, completely taken over a need to have you.

throwing his head back, howling into the air, he took you with a punishing pace.

there was no noise that could leave your mouth, the familiar feeling of an orgasm looming in the distance made you melt against his hips.

strong hands holding you steady, growling with the obscene sounds your pussy made. he was going to pump you fulll, make you heavy with all the cum that he was going to give you, fucking you raw. if he was lucky, his cum would stick, breeding you like a good mate.

“you take me so good. you like it dont you?” there was no answer you could give him that would change his mind, he could smell it on you. sweat dripping down your back, pooling at the heat of his hands against your soft sides, it couldnt be more obvious.

“koutarou.” you gasped, shaking at the orgasm that finally graced your body.

it was all a reaction to you, he couldnt help the way your cunt squeezed him this tight. with a final push inside, knocking you down flat to the floor, knees shaking,

it began.

your chest burned as you took in a sharp lungful of air. his dick seemed to inflate, right at the base of your pussy, locking him tightly inside. at the peak of the swelling, his hips stuttered, bringing you along while thick ropes of cum stuffed you. pulling the stretched skin of you around his swollen dick.

“w-wh-! bo, bo it hurts!” you squealed, kicking, trying to get away. frenzied with fear, scared that he was going to rip something.

but he held you, warm hand placing right at the base of your tummy, trying to sooth your fear and shaking. he bent in close, begging for forgiveness of it all.

“i know it hurts, i’m so sorry.” he whimpered, tongue heavy with pleasure and guilt.

all fucked out and spent, you laid there, tears streaming down your face, you couldnt feel anything anymore.

it felt like it took forever for the swelling to calm down, but once it did, he quickly scrambled off you.

“angel.” he whispered, flipping you over, searching for your gaze. a sharp pang hit his gut at the sight of your wet eyes, and trembling lower lips.

“oh my baby, i’m so sorry.” he all but cried, there was already a hate, rooted deep into his being at the way he was, driven by an animal he couldnt control. after this, if you wanted him gone, he was more than willing to pack it all up to keep you safe.

your hand, trembling and sweaty, wrapped around the hand holding your face tenderly. finally he was back, there was the man that kissed you gently every morning.

“kou.” you wheezed, smiling at him.

it took a lot of effort, but you smiled.

“n-next time. you gotta prep me first.”

his eyes flittered down from your face, distracted by the clenching of your pussy, leaking everything he had worked so hard to pump you full with, smearing it down your thighs, pussy lips, and carpet.

his jaw clenched at the challenge, laughing at the thought that you’d be so weak, of course you were strong enough to take him.

you were his mate after all.

[crimsonbubble]

Lucifer's Pride

(warnings: fem!reader, demon!Hongjoong, overstimulation, oral [f receiving], fingering, extremely vague glove kink, nipple play, praise, claiming/biting, mention of blood, vague/brief branding, marking, implied creampie)

*more and taglist after the cut*

note: I got thrown back into my Obey Me phase so have this :D this will be a series because yes :>

---

As the avatar of pride, he held himself to a great esteem. Hongjoong felt at ease knowing that he was the only one able to see you like this. He was the only one who could make you see stars with only a few flicks of his tongue.

His grip on you was rough, the material of his gloves digging into your thighs as he held you legs open. The noises he made which he ate you out were embarrassing enough to make you clench your thighs around his head.

Hongjoong focuses his mouth on your clit as he carefully rubbed over your folds. Your slick covered the faux leather gloves and allowed for an easy slip in. Though the foreign material felt odd the added texture rubbing against your walls so deliciously had your cunt clenching down around his fingers.

Hongjoong peered up at you though his eyelashes, watched with dark eyes as you moan and shake. Your hands are fisting the sheets, and your thighs are trembling around his head; you were a sight to behold. Hongjoong curled his fingers in a 'come hither' motion, letting out a breathy laugh as your back arched off the bed.

You tried to bite back your loud moans but with the way Hongjoong is fingering you and suckling your clit had your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you came around his fingers. Hongjoong moaned around your clit, grazing his teeth over the swollen bud ever so gently, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Your body fell limp against the plush mattress, chest heaving as you tried to recover from the mind shattering orgasm Hongjoong just gave you. Hongjoong slowly kissed up your body, his hands resting on your hips. "You taste so good, angel.." Your face burned as Hongjoong teasily took your nipple into his mouth.

He swirled his tongue around the bud, gently tugging with his teeth. He pulled off with a soft pop kissing his way to your other nipple to give it the same treatment. His left hand moved up to grope and squeeze your left breast, pinching and rolling your nipple. He pulled away from your chest, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

His eyes met yours with a dark desire, the type of look that had your thighs clenching as more slick gushed out of you. "Think you can take me, sweetheart?" Though it wasn't really a question as Hongjoong was nearly halfway in once he asked it. Your back arched painfully as Hongjoong bottomed out. He pressed soft kisses to your neck and cheeks, muttering out praises as you got used to his size.

"Fuck angel, you feel so good around me.." You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his closer as he slowly rocked his hips. "Joong.." He let out a soft hum, suckling dark hickeys into your neck. "Move, please." Hongjoong moved his hands away from your body, quickly discarding his gloves as he moved to unloop your arms from around his neck.

He pinned your wrists to the bed, slowly sliding his hands up to intertwine with yours. You tightened your grip on his hands, a warm feeling bubbling in your stomach. Hongjoong moaned softly into your neck, his pace quickening when he felt you tighten around him. You leaned your head to the side, barring you neck to him. "Joong.. kiss me.. please." Hongjoong leaned back, wasting no time in pressing your lips together.

Hongjoong nipped at your lower lip before letting his tongue move alongside yours. You pulled away from his lips, a hazy look in your eyes. You leaned your head away from him, barring your neck to him. Hongjoong didn't need words to know what you wanted. You looked at him from the corner of your eyes, a silent conformation of what you wanted.

Hongjoong pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. He leaned into your neck, licking the juncture of where you neck and shoulder meet. His right hands moves away from yours to place itself on your stomach, his palm resting above your naval. "I love you so much." Those were his words before he bit into your neck, his canines sharpening as he ripped through your skin.

You felt a burning sensation on your stomach, a dopey smile playing at your lips. Hongjoong pulled away from you, amkimg you wince one his teeth left your skin. He lapped at the blood that dripped from the mark, the burning feeling on your stomach fading. Peering down at your stomach, once Hongjoong moved his hand, you saw a dark mark etched on your skin.

His mark.

As much as Hongjoong would love to savour this moment, the need to release got stronger with each slight movement. "God, baby, you're gonna make me cum.." Your toes curled in searing pleasure as Hongjoong's nails dug into your thighs. He let himself go as he chased both of your highs, throwing you over the edge once his fingers came in contact with your throbbing clit.

Your core spasmed around his cock, making it easier to ride out his high with you. His hips stilled while a broken moan left his lips. Your hands clutched tightly at the bedsheets, moans spilling from your lips as Hongjoong rode out both of your highs.

The two of you spent countless minutes entangled together, neither of you making a move to get up. The room was filled heavy panting and a comfortable silence. But beyond all that, there was love. A love that won't fade no matter how dark the days get.

It's in times like these that Hongjoong is truly able to appreciate what he has. His pride swells as you curl into his arms, pressing soft kisses into his neck as you feel sleep overcome you.

---

@a-soft-hornytiny @berryberry-joongie @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @hyetiny @multidreams-and-desires @serialee @spinster-sisters @strawberry-joong @yungisstar1117 @yunsangoveryonder @yunhospuppy

[piecksz]

another one. | (m)

pairings: connie springer x fem!reader x jean kirstein

warnings: nsfw, dub con, drunk sex, creampie, double penetration, public sex, possessive dominance, loss of virginity, anal sex, vaginal sex, fingering, slight humiliation, explicit language

words: 2.3k

summary: connie and jean take you out to a club as a change of scenery for you, but your careless fun quickly turns into a drunk hookup with your two best friends.

a/n: bear with me bc writing a threesome is hard as fuck but this has been sitting half-finished in my drafts for like two weeks and i needed it OUT!!

Jean’s back against the club’s door had the three of you stumbling out into the crisp air of fast approaching nightfall. The cold moved in only to meet your skin, made warm by the heat of your blood, the reaction to endless liquor you’d slugged until the bitter liquid began tasting like water.

You could feel the air moving through your lungs, squeaky and worrisome, as your jocund thoughts turned into dizzy confusion while Connie and Jean pressed you against the flat concrete of the wall. It only took one glance at Connie’s face, part desire, part mischief, to fully comprehend the situation you’d found yourself in.

Your soft cry was inundated with perverted laughter as Connie’s quick fingers hooked around the hem of your fitted dress, hoisting the fabric until it cinched around the bend of your hips. The frigid air was unforgiving as it lapped at the inside of your thighs, petting the exposed skin where Jean and Connie’s hands hadn’t touched.

“Come on, Y/N. Spread wide for us,” Connie soothed, mischievous hazel eyes polished with tangible lust, and once his silken lips attached to the hot stretch of your neck, you relinquished what little resistance you had and allowed your best friends to feel every curve and recess along your body.

Connie grinned lazily, grazing the tips of his fingers over the lace material that hugged the delicate skin between your legs. You parted them only slightly in response, the proximity of either men on your side hardly allowing you enough mobility. Connie’s movement was deliberate as he slid lithe fingers into your underwear, his touch skimming over your folds before dipping a finger between your slit to rub gently at your aching clit.

“God she’s so wet.” His voice was breathy as his trace traveled lower until his fingertip teased the outline of your cunt’s orifice.

“Yeah? You’re wet for us? What have you been thinking about, huh?” Jean questioned, his honeyed voice beckoning just below a whisper.

His mouth was warm against the taut side of your throat, drawing the tender skin between his teeth and sucking harshly, as though it was his intent to paint you with deep marks that would serve as a reminder that he’d been there. His hands moved swiftly in your periphery, sliding over the metal of his belt and unfastening it before impatiently tugging his cock out from the top of his black briefs.

Jean was already hard when he took himself in his palm, his swollen tip glossed with the glassy sheen of precum. He began working against his rigid length, slowly at first while he kneaded away the discomfort, and then his pace picked up until he was fucking the curve of his hand, lips sucking mildly at the bruised spots on your neck.

Your mind had been swimming since you three were on the dance floor, and you were moving wantonly with Connie and Jean as their tipsy hands roamed over your body, feeling you through the figure-hugging material of your dress.

You hadn’t been able to process what was happening fast enough, all you had been able to understand was that it felt nice, and your fog had caused you to forget what had happened in between.

Now your thoughts were inchoate as your brain tried to interpret what it could from your foggy vision, but seeing your friends bare and confident in their indecency didn’t help your disarray at all.

Your eyes drifted down to Jean’s hand, watching with parted lips while he flicked his wrist against his throbbing erection, and not that you’d previously given much thought to it, but he was bigger than you’d expected.

His skin was stretched tight over the expanse of his cock, thick and ribbed with veins, as he jerked himself off and moved in unrelenting strokes. Suddenly, your cheeks were aglow with embarrassment by your own drunk internal monologue.

Has he been hiding that in his pants the whole time?

“You’ve done a good job playing innocent, Y/N,” Jean teased, resting a sweaty palm at the base of your neck.

His grip was loose, but his partial strength was still enough to keep you constrained to the wall. His caress followed his stare and descended to your chest, palming over your breast before his fingers hooked around the fabric of your dress and your bra, pulling both down together to free a hardened nipple.

Your gasp bloomed as a pathetic whine that only intensified once Jean compromised his height, bending down to sweep his wet tongue over the stiff bead of your breast.

“You haven’t lost your virginity yet, have you?” Connie questioned, two fingers now perforating your tight hole.

You swallowed a desperate cry, your body writhing with the dual sensation of Connie’s fingers and Jean’s tongue. “No, not yet.”

Connie hummed. “Well, who better to lose it to than your best friends?”

Jean released your nipple from between his teeth to nod in concert. “Yeah, we’ll take care of you. Just relax.”

Your hands eased your tentative grasp on their forearms and traveled upwards so you could wrap your arms around their shoulders.

In one gentle pull you drew them in closer, sticky skin touching and sultry sighs marrying together, then you three locked eyes only for a moment, just long enough to reinforce the trust you held in them, and you nodded in submission.

“That’s it, good girl,” Connie praised, sliding his fingers into you once again, curling his digits against your tense walls. He flattened the heel of his palm against your clit, stimulating the swell of your cunt with the rhythmic twisting of his wrist.

Your skin began to tingle with a frenzy of static at the reception of your first orgasm, and the pit of your stomach gave host to the overwhelming buzz of ecstasy. Your breathing grew shallow and you shut your eyes with so much intensity that white dots flickered against the darkness of your lids.

“Please—” You begged to neither of them in particular, but your embrace on both of your friends tightened, and then your orgasm came as a technicolor blaze against your closed eyes.

Connie and Jean’s shifted to provide more support around your waist as your body went lax in their arms, and your unrestrained cry echoed slightly in the unguarded space of the alleyway.

“Fuck, you’re messy,” Connie remarked and withdrew his hand from between your thighs, an impish smile rippling across his languid expression, then he showed Jean the way your essence stretched into thin strings between his fingers whenever he spread them.

The two exchanged an unspoken counsel as though they both stumbled across the idea of how exciting it would be to watch you taste yourself off of Connie’s fingers, but then they waived their suggestion, figuring you weren’t yet ready to do something so obscene.

“Please, I need you guys so bad right now,” you pleaded once your rapture subsided, unaware of the vulgar fantasies that were brewing in your friends’ heads.

Jean’s hands toured over your partially bare chest to your sweaty thighs where Connie’s touch still lingered. “You want us to fuck you? How bad?”

“Badly, Jean. Please.” You looked at him from behind eyelashes damp with tears, and his eyebrows drew upwards in sympathy at the sight of you so tortured and desperate.

Connie quickly began unfastening the buttons of his pants, even with a slick grip. “You think you can take both of us at the same time?”

“Yes, please, just fuck me.” You exhaled heavily, quivering fingers trying to move the fabric of your underwear to the side, and once Jean detected your struggle, he dipped a careful hand between your legs to do it for you.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he responded to your plea, then he bent down to wrap a long arm around the back of your knee.

He brought your leg up to his side, allocating your remaining weight onto your other foot, and your insobriety had you teetering for balance before Jean’s other arm enclosed around your waist and Connie’s palms rested on your backside to hold you up.

Jean’s cock entered you first, slowly stretching out your undefiled hole until your hips met his pelvis. He didn’t move while he gauged your expression, eyes wound tightly in discomfort and lips tightened to keep yourself from complaining about the soreness while you tried to adjust to the foreign experience.

“You okay?” Jean asked through a heavy grunt, and he sighed in relief when you nodded and began undulating your hips back and forth gently against the stiffness of his length.

“I’m okay,” you murmured through a subtle grimace.

“Are you sure?” Connie added over your shoulder, sensing the way your muscles tensed. “Loosen up, it’ll hurt more if you tighten up like that.”

Your ears began to smolder with heat at your lack of experience. Jean and Connie now unexpectedly treating you as if you were fragile made you lean forward until your head rested shyly against Jean’s shoulder. “I said I’m fine,” you stressed.

Connie nodded, taking your words for what they were, and his hands reassuringly stroked the skin of your ass before he sunk himself into you from behind, eliciting a quiet whimper from your trembling lips.

The duo gave you a few generous seconds for you to attune yourself to their size, and then they began to move, rocking their hips upward into you with even-paced movement until your body was oscillating with the force of each thrust.

Your lightheaded whimpers provoked Jean and Connie, and each fraught cry resulted in the quickening of their tempo.

“Look at you taking our cocks so well,” Connie praised, his heavy breath fanning over the curve of your neck. “You haven’t been whoring around without telling us, have you Y/N?”

You shook your head, inhaling deeply as you dragged the thick sex-soiled air into your overworking lungs.

“I hope not,” Jean said in response through gruff moans. “You’re our girl right?” He looked down to spectate as his cock disappeared into your cunt and receded, glazed in a gossamer layer of your arousal, over and over again. “Tell us no one got to touch you before we did.”

Your confession came as a quiet moan which made Connie dig his hot fingertips into the pert curve of your ass.

“Say it, Y/N.”

“No one’s—No one’s touched me before.” Tears brimmed your eyes, and you felt your clench low, both holes pursing around the thick girths of your friends’ cocks. “I’m yours.”

“Again,” Connie urged as he pressed chaste kisses to the curve of your ear and teased the bone of your jawline with his tongue.

“I’m yours. I promise, I’m all yours.” Your voice hit a higher register as the throaty cry left your mouth, and desire perfumed the little space between all three bodies that continued rising to a place of release.

Jean drove his cock into you, his own eyes closed as he threw his head back and savored the overwhelming sensation, penetrating deeper each time until the slick sound of slippery skin became audible.

“Such a good girl,” he coaxed, his voice deep and rich as his throat bobbed with each word. “That’s right, your pretty holes are all ours.”

“You’re lucky. Getting fucked by two cocks for your first time,” Connie hissed through gritted teeth. “You should be thanking us, don’t you think?”

You swallow thickly. “Th—Thank you.”

“For what?” Jean slurred, amber eyes holding your lethargic gaze.

“Thank you, for fucking me. It feels so fucking good.”

You held them closer around their shoulders, your leg hugging Jean’s waist while the three of you coalesced and both of them verged on their consummation.

You grew motionless between both bodies, not from unease, but from the satisfaction of being pampered by your two best friends.

Jean’s hips grew still first as pleasure flowed through his cock in a series of twitches, and then his wave peaked. He pushed up into you one last time and released, his hot cum painting your walls in sticky white as he held back a deep groan you knew he wanted to liberate.

Connie’s orgasm was a lot less contrived, failing to hamper the pitchy moans that cracked through his throat as his balls tightened. He dug his fingers into your ass as his cock jerked with each spurt, filling you up and unlading every last drop of cum until he grew soft in your used hole.

When the two withdrew from your entrances, you caught a glimpse of the way their cocks glistened with their own milky essence in the dim orange light of the alleyway.

Jean freed your leg from the hook he had around your knee, and once you returned both feet to the ground you stumbled slightly before stabilizing yourself with the hand Connie reached out to steady you with.

“How are we gonna get home?” you muttered, now realizing that none of you were coherent enough to find your way back home on the subway like you’d done in order to get to the club.

You adjusted your underwear and reshaped your dress, pouting at the damp and unpleasant feeling between your legs, and you kept your thighs together in fear that your cum-filled holes would begin to leak.

Although the night was still young, you could tell that your friends were spent just the same.

Connie squinted at the bright light of his phone in the darkness of the back-street as he tucked himself back into his pants and attempted to button them back up with one hand.

“Nearest Uber is like, seven minutes,” he informed you two, his quick tapping against the screen meaning he was likely requesting the ride without either you or Jean confirming.

You hummed, making sure you looked presentable before beginning to shuffle towards the street while your friends followed your lead in silence, and you hoped that once you were back at your dorm and sober, the night’s events would be forgotten in the midst of your drunken stupor.