#do you think he thought about it when he kissed. felt those lips on his like a sharp beak straight through his body

[sinofwriting]

Faking It - Max Verstappen

Words: 850 Summary: Max finds out his girlfriend faked an orgasm. Note(s): NSFW, Talks of Sex, Mention of Semi-Public Sex. Part of a kind series where drivers find out reader faked an orgasm.

Max pauses just before the entryway to the living room. “Have you ever y’know?” His brows furrow at the vague question from his girlfriend’s best friend.

“Have I ever what?”

“Faked it. Have you ever faked an orgasm?”

She scoffs, “Before Max, yes.”

His cheeks turn a bit pink at the conversation he was overhearing, but he also stands a bit taller.

He knew that their sex life was good, that she was getting orgasms, they had of course talked about it, but it was different hearing her talk to someone else about it with no idea he was there.

His brows furrowed in confusion when she speaks again, “well, I don’t really know if it counts as faking it.”

“What?”

“I mean, there’s been a few times when we’ve had sex where I didn’t orgasm.”

His mind starts screaming at him, because what? He always made sure she came, usually before he did.

“Not because it wasn’t good or because I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t.” He can practically see the shrug she gives. “The sex was still good though.”

“Y/N!” Her friend screeches and it breaks up a little through the phone.

The words replay in his head as he goes back to their bedroom, lying down on the bed. He tries to think of when she would have faked it but nothing comes to mind. He’s so wrapped up in his head he doesn’t hear her call his name or get onto the bed until she’s laying down on top of him, his arms instinctively wrapping themselves around her.

“What you thinking about?” She asks, pressing kisses to his jaw.

It normally relaxes the feeling of her lips pressed against his skin but not quite where he wants them, a lovely prelude to before she kisses him, but he can’t get past what he heard and he’s never been practically shy.

“When did you fake it? Having an orgasm with me?”

Her fingers pause where they had begun to lift his shirt to slide under. “Max, it’s not a big deal.”

His frown deepens and he’s pushing her upwards so they can look at each other. “Yes, it is. I always thought that I made you orgasm, usually first. And now I’ve found that isn’t true.”

She shakes her head. “You do! I promise you do.”

He doesn’t say anything and she sighs.

“It’s only happened twice.”

He doesn’t know if he’s relieved that it only happened twice or pissed that he failed twice. It should have never happened but twice was far too much.

“The first time was after the FIA gala last year.”

His eyebrows furrow, “But you talk about that night a lot.”

“It was a good night. I felt good, amazing. I loved everything we did, I just wasn’t able to orgasm. I didn’t feel unsatisfied or anything. Especially not with my wake-up call.”

He smirks at the reminder of the next morning. He had woken up just as the sun was rising and had ducked under the covers and ate her out until she was begging for him to stop. His jaw and tongue had ached for hours after, but it was worth it for the taste of her stayed just as long.

“The second time was in China. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what if someone walked in.”

“So, I didn’t fuck you good enough.”

She slaps his chest lightly, sending him a disbelieving look. “I was limping a little after. And you're lucky I was wearing those heels and everyone believed me when I said I twisted my ankle.”

“I’m sorry.” Max apologizes again, picking up her hand and kissing it. He still felt a little bad that their first foray into semi-public sex had been so rough. “Why didn’t you tell me though? That I didn’t make you come?”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal to me.” She tells him. “I love having sex with you, it always feels good regardless of me orgasming or not. And in those two instances I was just happy to be that close to you.”

He stares at her, looking deep into her eyes. He still feels like he’s failed but the way she’s looking at him, all gentle wide eyes filled with truth. “I’ll let it go.”

She snorts and he covers her mouth with his hand.

“But only if you tell me next time. Just so I can immediately make it up to you.” He says, removing his hand as he says the last word.

“Okay, I’ll tell you next time.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs, pressing their lips together.

She hums into the kiss, her one hand slipping out of his and returning to the hem of shirt, drawing it up so she can slip her hands underneath and his stomach flexes at the feeling of her fingertips and he’s rolling them over. Easily putting himself in between her legs.

“Feel like making a mess for me?”

She lets out a happy little sigh, teeth lightly sinking into her bottom lip as she nods. “Please?”

“Of course.”

[aupea]

breeding kink carmy thoughts down below! (minors, if you managed to stumble here this is an 18+ blog only, love you but please go bye bye) also, this is kind of afab/fem!reader based ?!?

okaayyy, so hear me out on this one y'all

carmy before you had never really been one for kids. he was always so busy between culinary school and trying to maintain relationships that he never had time to think about what he wanted once he had his dreams achieved. he only knew how to focus on the present, and even that was hard.

then, of course, he met you. the sunshine to his cloudy exterior, the one he felt himself being most sane and comfortable around. he had never been so in love- he actually found himself missing you if you had to work late or travel somewhere. like, hugging the pillow imaging its you missing.

but, then nat had her baby. her sweet little girl who looked just like nat, and you got to play the role of auntie alongside his star role of favorite uncle. and when he sees you holding her, her little hand wrapped around your finger, her eyes beaming up at you-- it almost awakens something in him. yeah, he was a goner! by the time you get home, he'd been fighting the urge to drag you into some hospital storage closet. he needed you- craved you, even. he needed to feel you. you and him step off the elevator in the hallway of your worn down apartment building, though you'd made a habit to ignore the cracks in the wall and the missing paint patches. once you two are fully off the elevator, you begin. "so, that was fun, right? i mean, baby rooms in hospitals are always-" your words are cut short by carmen's lips instantly clashing with yours, his hands coming to find your waist desperately.

of course, you don't protest. you never would, but you are a bit confused by the suddenness of it all. he grabs your hands, pulling you towards the apartment, his hands fighting to just unlock the door, much less pull you inside and push it against it.

hands fly, clothes are being pulled off and disregarded. by the time he has you into the bedroom and your back hitting the plush mattress, he's tossing his pants aside. he'll probably complain in the morning about not being able to find them. he kisses you like he loves to do, taking his time with it of course. like you'd slip away and just disappear. hands roaming your body, desperate for you, desperate for it all. he doesn't even know what he wants right now, but he knows it isn't anything but you.

and before either of you know it, he's deep in your pathetic, wet cunt. the sounds are filthy, but what's worse is his mumbling in your ear.

i've said this before, saying it again: carmy would 100% be a dirty talker without realizing. the pleasure takes its way into his verbal cortex and doesn't let go. this time, it's more. "gotta get nice and deep in there - shit - that's it baby. taking it so well, doing so good f'me." he'd say, desperately sucking at skin on your exposed neck, hands cupping your breasts or your waist, stretching you out so well. "gotta make sure it all gets in there, huh?" "need to get you all filled up-"

"gotta get you all nice and filled up with me, yeah? you like that- shit, shit, keep squeezin' like that-" your complaints were nonexistent, after all. you could barely get words out, too cock drunk to do anything but let out a heavenly moan he adored and moan his name, your fingers digging into skin. he loves those marks, btw, and if he could he'd probably preserve them just to get them tattooed where you squeeze his shoulders (AND HE PROBABLY WOULD CANT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE)

and when his climax hits at the same time yours does, he's pressing his forehead against yours, angling to hit every spot. after he spills inside of you - he'd be giddy just to do that anyway, he pulls out, pushing whatever spilled out back in. "there we go. my pretty girl." he'd murmur, talking more so to your pussy than to you.

[briarberrythornedhart]

Haywire

Contains: Eddie Munson & Reader, fluff, sincerity, vulnerability, friends to something more

🦇 ✏️ 🦇

You were just friends. Just hanging out. And you’d thought there would be more people around tonight as human buffer BUT NO it was just you and him in his living room. And he was sitting so close it made you dizzy.

Ope.

He caught you staring. Your gaze was lovingly drifting over his stunning features and when he noticed you looking, his eyebrows shot up.

He waved his hand in a slow figure eight, wiggling his fingers - like he was casting some sort of spell on you.

Maybe he was casting a spell on you? It would explain a lot.

“You okay in there?” He laughed. He snapped the fingers of his left hand a couple times and you must have jumped because then he snorted “Sorry, sorry! You zoned out, though...like...you left me, where’d you go?” He grinned at you, head cocked to the side.

“I’d never leave. I mean I’m paying attention, What is the next step?” You asked, trying to re-focus and NOT on his lips, or his jaw, or the length of his thick pretty neck that you so wanted to kiss and lick and bite down on …oh gawd... how you wanted to taste him all over!

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Ya sure you wanna do this? Right now?? It’s okay if you are bored. This is not the fun part for most folks.”

“Yeah! NO - I’m not bored.” You clutched your notebook to your chest and regulated your breathing. No more yelling FFS you told yourself. ” I told you - I’ve wanted to play DnD for a long time and you know… never got a chance to even roll up a character. The stars just weren’t aligned for it I guess and the group near me didn’t want me in the mix....”

“Well, that’s not a problem here. There won’t be any of that bullshit on my watch. There’s Equal opportunity for doom or glory in Hellfire Club.” Eddie let the words doom and glory rumble in his chest. Theatrical as ever.

“Thank you.” You smiled and felt heat flush your cheeks.

“You’re so welcome, you always are.” he shook his mane of hair and chuckled again, wry and self-effacing. Which you would NEVER have expected from this guy. When you were introduced to him he was cocky as hell, strutting around and getting right into your personal space and teasing you like you’d been close friends forever and then - you get him alone like this- and he transforms into this sweet and modest and shy… total gentleman.

You were so completely fucked.

I mean, if only. You wished you were. But this was all so sadly gentlemanly and platonic.

He licked his lips and tapped his pencil on the DM’s guide while he pondered something seriously. Your mouth watered. And since he was so intently not paying attention to you- you took him in - looked him all over.

Your lips felt suddenly so dry and hot and his lips were the cure for every little thing that afflicted you, you knew this. That his perfect lips were the Answer. They were pink, slightly redder and chapped and plumped by his own teeth worrying at his bottom lip and… oh he was speaking to you. Focus.

“But maybe we should wait till later?? Because you seem very baked right now.” Eddie took your pencil away from you, grinning. Your pencil that had made its way (eraser first) between your lips and was getting bitten to hell. “Sweetheart, It was just a beer and we shared that joint…Did you not eat anything today??” He looked mildly concerned. “Do you want a snack or something? Coffee? I think we have Sanka in the cupboard… although what would be the point....”

You shook your head. No.

You didn’t admit it but You were not high. Or tipsy.

That was the thing. Eddie did this to you.

Yes, you’d faked taking that hit off his joint — hoping to look very chill about him offering you one. You’d barely taken a sip of the PBR he’d offered.

You Didn’t need any single thing to make you feel as high as THIS. When you had those big pretty eyes looking at you?? You were floating!

His lashes fluttered when he inhaled, held in the smoke, and then his eyes stared into your soul when he blew out (blowing away from your face - politely) and that just made you want to do unspeakably depraved things. For him. To him. On him.

“We could just… hang out.” Eddie said. “Plenty of time to make a character before next Wednesday and stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. we don’t need to have an activity to be ummm together, you can just ride that wave you are on and I’ll... play guitar at you or something.” He looked down again and huffed almost a laugh. “Obviously you don’t want That, no one wants that, but we could watch a movie....”

The overhead light cast the shadow of his lashes down over his cheekbones.

“I’d like to hear you play and sing one of your songs.” You said.

“Oh no no no,” Eddie leaned backwards and put his hands behind his head, legs spread at the knees - making you long to climb into his lap “I don’t know who told you I can sing... but they were exaggerating... I can scream my lyrics in my less than an octave range.”

“But you are the frontman, you play and sing lead, right??”

“That’s only until we can get Gareth a better mic set up - he’s got a great voice - like an angel.”

“I still want to hear you.” You crossed your arms over your chest and nodded. “c’mon”

“You know what? I think I like this bossy side of you. Is this what happens when you loosen up a bit, you order people around?” Eddie smirked. “It makes me want to do whatever you say.”

“Really?” You asked, your mind reeling at the impossibilities.

“Yes.” Eddie’s tongue rolled over one canine tooth. He pointed at you. “Don’t use your power over me for evil.”

You may have gasped. Just a little.

“Or do.” Eddie scootched closer and his knee touched yours. “Just don’t get me in trouble.”

“Show me what you wear on stage.” You said. Well... demanded.

“It’s not that different than this...” He gestured down at his ripped jeans and his Anthrax T shirt under his gray hoodie. “No corpse paint, no tight leather - we’re thrash - more substance than style. Noooo, don’t look at me all disappointed...I’m just not fancy.” He rubbed his hands over his face.

“I’m not disappointed, i just really doubt you play your fancy red crackle finish guitar... in a gray sweatshirt.”

“Okay, I wear a tank top or something cropped because it’s hot as balls on stage and I pull my hair back sometimes or put my bandana on to keep the sweat from dripping in my eyes, that’s the sum total effort I put in okay? you don’t Really want to hear about me sweating my ass off, right?? Grossing you out, right?”

“No. are you gonna show me or not.”

“Yes. mistress, if you take that tone I guess I must.” Eddie slapped his thighs and stood, “Be right back.” He turned half way down the hall. “If you laugh, you gotta go. You’ll be out that door, high or not.”

He shook his head as he retreated down the hallway and then in a few minutes he emerged with his hair up in a loose bun.

He did a slow awkward turn for you. He was in a scissor cropped Megadeth shirt, with his pretty red guitar unfortunately, blocking your view of his stomach. As he turned you could ogle the curve of his back - see how his underwear - probably cotton boxers - were visible just above his jeans and belt.

“See.... not much to write home about. Functional, though. Practical.” He shrugged.

“You look hot.” you said. without thinking.

Eddie gave you an assessing look. “That’s probably the ganja talking. Or did you mean I look overheated, because yeah, it’s a little warm in the trailer but...”

For some reason this made you furious. “No. You look fucking hot, Eddie! You always look hot and I’m not fucking high. C’mere.”

His eyes went wide, he unslung his guitar and leaned it gently against a chair. “Okay... mistress.” He jumped over the coffee table and sat at the edge of the couch - leaning forward. Leaning towards you - at attention. “Any other demands?” he wasn’t being sarcastic though...

“At shows, you should crop your shirts higher, you should go commando under your jeans “ you snapped the elastic of his underwear. “…and you should not invite me over when no one else is around because apparently I go a little haywire when we are alone together.”

Eddie leaned in and kissed you. A kiss like spun sugar, ephemeral, impossibly sweet, and over too soon.

“I go a little haywire when you are near me too.” He said.

[481mclarg]

Drunk together. | LN4

★ Let's get drunk together so I can kiss you and blame it on the vodka.

FANFIC + SMAU « Eng & Esp »

Lando Norris x Male!Oc Former Rider

« K » We are near the end... D:

Warning: —

★ Chapters: One. | Two. | Three. | Four. | Five. | Six.

[ 🗺; 🇲🇨 ] Mónaco.

[ 🗓 ] 25 Jan. 2026

          Ezequiel felt his heart in his mouth. He was afraid to ring the doorbell, although he doubted that standing at the door of the building would help him.

          People had talked a lot about them, with their theories and photos accompanying the rumors. He was afraid that Lando had invited him to his department in Monaco just to tell him that he didn't want those rumors to continue. Let them not see each other again to let people forget that at some point, something happened between them.

          Instantly, Sacha's voice telling him to go talk to Norris before assuming anything scolded him.

          He rang the bell. There was no turning back.

          —Eze. —Their hearts betrayed them again. An accelerated pace, blushing their cheeks, curling their lips without them being able to do anything to stop it.

          —Lan. —hearing his nickname coming from his mouth gave him some peace of mind.

          In the elevator, they were quiet, nervous, but a little less afraid. Lando, with his hands behind his back, leaning against the metal wall, swaying in place, Ezequiel, with his hands clasped in front, playing with his thumbs, waiting impatiently.

          When they were sitting on the couch in the living room, the situation was not very different, with both of them shifting in their places.

          —Sorry for leaving suddenly. —he began before Norris said anything. —I- I was scared. —he confessed, going on to explain his concern with his work, with someone on his team saying something to the press and it affecting him. His fear of continuing to develop their relationship and that he would lose his seat in Formula One because of him.

          The one with curls tried to let him talk, but when he saw that he was starting to get tangled, he just decided to get his attention again.

          He thought about what would be the best way to silence him, and his only response was:

          —¿Eh-? —Norris laughed. —You kiss me...? —

          —Yeah. —He nodded, still holding the older man's face in his hands. God, he had missed him. —They can fuck themselves, Eze. I don't really care. I want you. —

          —But‐ Oh my God... —He placed his hands on the British's hands. —Am I dreaming? —he asked almost with fear.

          —No, I don't think so. —He laughed before Torres asked him for a second kiss, which he granted without hesitation.

          If McLaren or the FIA ​​were to put any kind of obstacle in his life and career by choosing Ezequiel, he would be sad, but he would never regret it. Lose him again? No. Now that he had him in his arms again, after months of missing his presence, he wouldn't let anything or anyone take them away.

          Everything had happened too quickly, and they knew that now they had to work on communication and the time they could dedicate to the relationship, but they would do it, and together.

          Lando couldn't stop repeating how much he missed him, how afraid he was that he would never see him again, that he wouldn't even want to write to him. Ezequiel laughed, answering that he had thought the same thing.

          «I want us to try it. I want to make us work» Norris could get those words tattooed, along with the date. It was one of the happiest days of his life.

481MCLARG | 20 . 01 . 2025 | CORREGIDO

[oliviaglumac]

Here,there, and everywhere

Pairing : Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Requested : no

Genre : fluff

You never thought you’d find someone like Sam Winchester—someone who could make you feel like the center of the universe, even during the darkest of times. Life with him had always been full of surprises, full of love, full of heart. But there was a part of you that still couldn’t believe that this kind of love was real, that you and Sam could be so intertwined, even with the chaos surrounding you.

You sat next to him in the Impala, your hand resting on the worn leather of the seat, eyes staring out the window as the world blurred by. He was driving, his usual calm expression on his face as he focused on the road, but you could feel the pull between you. It was a constant, an undercurrent that ran so deep it was almost unspoken.

The song on the radio was one of those old classics—“Here, There and Everywhere” by The Beatles. You didn’t realize how fitting it was until the words washed over you, and you turned your head to look at Sam, your gaze softening.

“To lead a better life, I need my love to be here.”

You had always been there for him, and he for you. No matter where you both were, or what you had to face, Sam was always the one person you knew you could rely on. His presence felt like home—like the world made sense when he was near.

“You okay?” Sam’s voice broke through your thoughts, his eyes flicking to you for a second before he turned back to the road.

You smiled, the familiar warmth in your chest growing. “Yeah. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

Sam chuckled, glancing over at you for a brief moment before his smile softened. “Lucky? I think I’m the lucky one, Y/N.”

You laughed, but there was truth to his words. In this life—filled with demons, monsters, and endless hunts—Sam was the one thing that grounded you. You’d seen him at his worst, and you’d been there with him through every fight, every loss, every moment of uncertainty. And still, you loved him. You loved him like you loved the stars in the sky, the moonlight on quiet nights, the promise that no matter how hard life got, you’d always find each other.

“I need my love to be here, I’ll be the one to love you.”

Those lyrics hit you in a way they never had before. It was exactly how you felt about Sam. You weren’t just there for him out of duty or obligation—you were there because you needed him, just as much as he needed you.

You squeezed his hand, the simple gesture enough to speak volumes. “I don’t know where I’d be without you, Sam.”

His grip tightened around yours, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear. Just the two of you, traveling down the road, hearts beating in sync, knowing that no matter the storm, you’d weather it together.

“I don’t know what I’d do either, Y/N,” Sam said quietly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re everything to me.”

You turned to face him, your fingers brushing his cheek. The depth of his words hit you, and you knew in that moment—no matter the challenges, no matter where life took you—you were exactly where you needed to be. With him.

“And I will be here, there, and everywhere.”

The promise in those words felt as if it were written just for you. It wasn’t about physical proximity—it was about the connection, the love that transcended distance, time, and the constant battles you faced. Sam would always be there, no matter the circumstances, and you would be there right alongside him.

His gaze softened as you held his eyes, the world outside forgotten. “Always.”

And as you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a quiet, tender kiss, you knew that whatever came next, this was the love you would carry with you—here, there, and everywhere

[rioreeve]

Emily's smile grew bigger and his immediately widened too. She looked so happy, so damn happy to hear that from him and this thought alone glued a grin to his face. Even as he kissed her, he felt his lips express pure joy bubbling in his heart. She wanted to be with him. She loved him too. She had felt this way for a while, and so had he about Em.

Her hand cupping his jaw, the tender touch he immediately leaned into, and every cell in his body screaming that they had made the best decision... The tiniest traces of doubt were gone when Zach heard her voice again. "I love you too." One thing he feared more than anything was saying those three words and not hearing them back, but she didn't think it was too much, too soon. He didn't scare her away.

Barely tilting his head, he motioned to the cake with a soundless, amused "sorry," and put her plate beside his.

Now that he could put his arms around her waist and hold her, he did so without hesitation. She would have to go back to the diner at some point and he would check on her soon; it would be damn hard to keep his hands and mouth to himself before he could borrow her again... But for now, they were standing there, sinking into the embrace, experiencing true happiness in the middle of the end of the world.

"So... This isn't some cheap but pleasant trick to distract me. Wow." He joked, referring to the many times they promised the other they'd defeat them no matter which game they played. "Yeah, I know... But it was worth the wait and the timing is great, trust me."

He chose to seal this promise with a kiss on the tip of her nose before muttering "It's perfect," into her lips. Now that he was allowed to kiss her, he simply couldn't not do that.

He had only remained silent a moment, but it felt like an eternity and worry began to swell that she had indeed fucked things up. Her mind ran wild with worst case scenarios until he finally spoke, his words overpowering any doubt she'd been holding on to. "Yea?" she asked quietly with genuine relief when his desires matched with hers, the smile she held widening freely.

I love you Emily.

The world around them disappeared into nothingness, sounds and all, until only she and Zach remained. Had she heard him right? He loved her? Then, as if he'd read her mind, he confirmed his admission. Emily felt as if her heart was going to burst from happiness and her smile widened even more, something she hadn't thought possible. He loved her.

"I lo--" she began returning the sentiment when his lips crashed against hers and the world exploded back to life around them. She could have sworn actual fireworks had gone off around them, the loud pop of a nearby ballon really to blame. Her breath was sucked from her lungs and the softness of his kiss became her lifeline. Her cake was nearly smashed into him as she leaned into their kiss, the sudden hunger for more nearly overwhelming her. Her free hand easily found itself cupping his jaw, gently holding him in place until she finally remembered her need to breath.

Emily remained close once she'd parted their lips and took a shuddering breath, her smile once more breaking free. "I love you too," she finally reciprocated. "I think I have for awhile now actually. Even though...you know," she admitted further, briefly insinuating their time apart.

[chastiefoul]

jjk men coming home and finding you crying

ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji fluff and comfort

gojo satoru

you wiped your eyes quickly as you heard the door opened. you took a deep breath, making sure your voice didn’t come as shaky as you said, “welcome home, toru.” with a big grin and the usual paper bag filled with sweets on his right hand he planted a kiss on your head. “i’m home baby.”

you were just about to let out a sigh of relief when satoru suddenly knelt in front of you who’s on the couch, blindfold off as his blue eyes stared as if seeing right through you. “what’s wrong?” he said softly, his knuckles brushing over your cheek with such a careful gesture. “what do you mean?” you tilted your head, cringing inside at the bad feign. “you can’t fool my six eyes, baby. also what kind of boyfriend i’ll be if i can’t even notice when my girl is sad?”

you tried to form a sentence to say as an excuse but the kisses he peppered across your face wasn’t really helping. you chuckled as you whine softly, “toruu.” the white-haired man cupped your face, a gorgeous smile on his face. “my favorite sound, baby,” he said, kissing your lips. “tell me? pleaseeee.” you laughed once more at his emphasis at the last word. “it’s really nothing, toru.”

“i love listening to nothing. we even have some sweets here as snacks,” he said, opening the paper bag excitedly. “i think you just want an excuse to eat it at 8 pm,” you raised an eyebrow, as he grinned. “nonsense, baby. now c’mere, let me hold you while you tell your story.” he put you between his legs, your back resting on his broad chest comfortably. you sighed out of wonderment, thinking how you could be so lucky, being this loved by the man.

“here, pick whatever. this one is my favorite,” he rummaged through the bag that’s on your lap. you looked at him with fondness as his face leaned in beside you to see better. “yeah? you’ll give me your favorite?”

“there’s nothing in the world that you can’t get, baby.” he kissed the side of your face. “now start from the very beginning.”

geto suguru

“if you thought you were doing a great job hiding those tears i have some news for you sweet girl,” geto’s voice was gentle on your ear as he wipe the wet residue underneath your eyes with the inner sleeve of his robe. “i wasn’t really hiding it,” you frowned, somehow not liking the fact that he noticed your little moment of weakness. “yeah? so you were just rubbing your eyes all rough like that for no reason?” he gave you a little smile.

yeah, it was a battle you had lost from start.

he put his arms around you, rubbing your back in a soothing pattern. “what’s wrong baby, everything okay?” you melted right into his touch, resting your head on his chest right on the calming beating of his heart. “yeah, it’s not really a big deal,” you mumbled, your low spirit was really affecting him more than he would ever let you know. his hand kept moving as he once again kissed the side of your head, a low chuckled escaped him. “you’re cute when you think you have a choice on telling me what had upset you.”

you laughed softly at his playfulness, knowing full well to you’ll end up telling your boyfriend everything. “you’re right. but can i tell you later?” you asked, wanting just this peaceful moment to last just a little longer as you held him tight.

“’course baby, got all the time in the world for you.”

nanami kento

nanami already knew that something was off when the house felt a little quiet as he arrived. and then he found you hunched over as you stood behind the kitchen counter. “honey?” you wiped your eyes with what you thought was the speed of sound but it was clear to both of you that you had been crying. “hi ken, how was work?” you replied with a small voice, a smile nanami didn’t particularly like plastered on your face; only because it seemed forced.

“oh no, we’re not breezing past it. come here my love.” and his embrace enveloped you like a dream, all warm and perfect. he stroke your hair ever so softly as he whispered sweet nothings. when you calmed down a little he sneaked a hand under your jaw, rubbing his thumb on your cheek gently, a gesture with amount of love you could only guess. “what’s wrong, hm?” he questioned you, his eyes shone with adoration; there’s only you in that moment.

“i’m okay, ken. more importantly aren’t you tired from work?” there’s a deep crease between the blond’s man eyebrows he heard you say this, as if that was the most offensive thing he had ever heard from you. “’more importantly?’ there could be nothing that’s more important than you, dear,” he said, knowing that concern was from a good place, like he was worrying over you, of course you would fuss over him who just came home from work.

“still…” you hesitated, but he kissed it out of you quickly. “want me to prepare you a bath, love? you know i can get the perfect temperature for you,” he whispered, coaxing you. and he was right, even sometimes he would get it right more often than you. before you could even mumble out another excuse he continued. “and while you do that i’ll prepare dinner, okay? i’m sure there’re still some ingredients left to make that nice meal you like.”

“no, i couldn’t possibly let you do all the work ken-“

“love, i’m here. you can relax, okay? you always do so much for me, let me do this for you,” he reassured you, cupping your face as he trailed your cheeks with soft kisses. you’re still not convinced, as he smiled over your great concern. “do this for me, please?” he tried once more and there’s no way you could refuse that. you nodded, feeling another wave of tears coming out of gratitude for your boyfriend., “thank you ken, i love you so much.”

“i love you too. and when you’re ready to talk, i’m here okay? always.”

toji fushiguro

he lifted you up, your leg instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist as he grabbed both of your thighs to support you. you tighten the hold of your arms around his neck, resting your head on your shoulder, nuzzling closer to his neck; not wanting him to see your post-crying face.

he sat you on the kitchen counter, putting both of his hands on the hard surface, on either side of your body practically refraining you to run away. “what’s wrong pretty girl?” he asked you who’s currently staring at the fingers on your lap as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. he kissed your shoulder blade, intentionally lingering a little long to hopefully calm your nerves. “nothing, i guess,” you answered nonchalantly, like detaching yourself. “you’re shit at lying babe, you know that right? look at the frown that you’re wearing right now, it’s almost touching the floor,” he said as he kissed your neck next. “mean,” you meant to frown, and you realized you were already doing that for the past hour. fine, maybe he had a point, so what?

“nah, what’s mean is when my girl won’t even tell me what made her upset,” he said, tilting his head confidently, his big hand on your waist as he rubbed your side. the look on his face was enough to make you relent. “fine… you’ll force it out of me sooner or later anyways,” you mumbled as he smiled, knowing that you needed a little push is all to sound your worries. “atta girl.”

“tell me all ‘bout it yeah? don’t leave out a single detail. then maybe if you’re up for it, i can show you that i got many ways to cheer you up,”

[iiiiiiis-things]

idk just thinking about how you burst into your home damn near slamming the door shut, only for toji to stop it with the large palm of his hand before he smoothly walks in behind you. you're on 10 right now, stomping and shouting around the house (while your husband follows like a lost puppy) until you make your way to the kitchen yelling something about how it was "totally unnecessary to punch him" honestly toji didn't even know what the hell you were going on about, i mean he wasn't even listening. he silently convinced himself that it wasn't his fault- no it was definitely yours that he couldn't focus on the sweetness of your voice. i mean he just couldn't stop himself from trailing his eyes down to your ass, sinfully watching from his stance at the doorway as it jiggled with each hard step you took. "you can't keep doing this shit man-" your words go in one ear and out the other, again wasn't his fault, he can't help but think about is how fucking sexy you look right now. lace tussled into a slight mess, lip gloss smeared across your puffy lips because of how much you opened your fat ass mouth out of anger, and that dress ? oh that dress is what gotten you in the situation in the first place, the way it hugged your frame perfectly, mapping out each of your curves in all the right ways. had you not wore it like he told you to he wouldn't have had to beat his boss ass for staring at you a little to long. lashes that had been ripped off are still in his car, sitting prettily right on his dashboard, he couldn't care less in fact he was glad you took em off ecstatic even, toji loved to see you natural, toji thought you were so god damn fine

"what ?"

...did he say that out loud ?

"nothin'" he muffled out "are you even listening? see this the shit i'm talking about-"

toji wanted nothing more than to bend you over the kitchen island and shut your big ass mouth with each deep stroke he gave you, dick hitting deep in that gummy area that always turned you into mush whenever he found it, but alas he didn't, he knew you were angry, just didn't know why. aren't you glad he protected you from the preying eyes of his boss ? did it cost him his job ? maybe.. but it doesn't matter because it was all for you, his lovely wife. "here asshole" toji finally snapped out of his head when he felt you shove something against his chest before walking off. noodles ... you made him-

"a cup of noodles ?" he questioned following you out the kitchen "you didn't eat at the party." the scar on his pretty lips decided to rise. oh how sweet you were, even after being so pissed at his possessiveness you still cared enough to make sure he ate before the night was over but there was still one problem.. "you didn't either" "i'm not hungry." once you reach the bottom of the stairs he stops dead in his tracks "baby- where you going ?" "to bed." no hug ? no kiss goodnight ? no invite ? oh he fucked up.

smut! under the cut (18+)

"now do you forgive me?" voice comes muffled from beneath you as you ride out your nth climax of the night your husband had been sucking and licking into you for hours drawing out orgasm after orgasm. and shit were you ovulating? because you just can't get enough. "fuck" you roll you head back in pleasure riding the sweet sensation of his nose repeatedly brushing against your clit

*smack!*

"i asked you a question mama" you moan loudly at the combination of the nickname and his tongue thrusting in and out of you hitting that special spot each time. "y-yes baby" you grind down to match the rhythm of his tongue as he begins to play with the fat of your ass tugging and gripping tightly, encouraging you to move your hips faster "'m sorry baby, so so sorry" his lips wrap around your rednend clit while he stuffs two fingers into you. at this point you were so overstimulated but you just couldn't stop riding his face even if the world was ending. bringing a hand to his hair you push it back unveiling those gorgeous green eyes. toji looks up making eye contact with you, you begin feeling the tension that was building up about to finally burst (again) "i didn't mean to upset you" he wraps his fore arms around your things getting you to grind down even harder against his perfectly fat nose "i-it's okay toj- fuck you're so deep" "i just don't like when other boys stare at you" he couldn't even bring himself to call his boss a man. a man would never violate a women's privacy like that, basically eye fucking her while she's out with her man. you felt everything, every touch, and god you were so hot, moans were leaving your mouth left and right as you felt him continue sucking, his fingers thrusting into you so desperately as if they were asking for forgiveness too.

this was gonna be a longggg night .

[sttoru]

#𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔: “show me you’re shameless, write it on my neck, why don’t ya?”

cw. married!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, angst to comfort. cheating/infidelity. unprotected. crēampie. bréeding themes. soft angsty-ish sèx. petnames ‘baby, sweetheart, wifey’ not proofread !

satoru has never loved the woman he married. he’s never felt an ounce of attraction or affection towards her. it’s hard to be around someone who he’s supposed to love and cherish, when all he can think about is you.

it’s you he was supposed to end up with if it wasn’t for his damned clan. setting up an arranged marriage behind his back and only telling him last minute of their plans— a bunch of assholes they are.

satoru could’ve declined, disagreed, ran away. he had all the power to, but he had fully convinced himself that his actual soulmate - you - would never return his love, which is why he settled.

. . . he was proven wrong after it was already too late.

“i love you s’much,” satoru grits his teeth as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his sweat trickling down his forehead. his hips move in a gentle rhythm, as tender as his arms are holding you. he never treated you roughly.

satoru wouldn’t do that to the love of his life. the one who he’s supposed to call his wife, his beloved. he’ll find a way to achieve his dreams. he’ll do anything to end up with you and escape this messed up arrangement.

but for now, he’ll love you like this. every day, behind the other woman’s back, for as long as he can.

“i love you too, ‘toru,” you sigh, tilting your head to give the white-haired man access to your neck. his tongue wets your sensitive skin before sucking on it. he’s claiming you as his— like he usually does whenever he manages to get ahold of you.

“say that again,” satoru whimpers against your throat whilst leaving soft kisses all over. the sounds of your bodies meeting bounces off the walls, the lewd noise of flesh hitting flesh is a melody that you both enjoy behind closed doors.

“please,” satoru pleads. you’re surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. he holds onto you - ruts into you - like he’s never experienced this before. his cock twitches and throbs within you, desperate to reach that aching release.

you swallow the lump in your throat. you feel bad doing this right on the bed that satoru shares with his wife, but you also couldn’t care less. “i love you, satoru, i really do,” you moan near his ear.

the sorcerer shivers at your pretty voice uttering those three words to him. his big hands hold onto your waist, fingers digging into your skin, leaving small dents. his breath hitches, “oh, fuck. y’do, huh?”

satoru curses as he lifts his head from your neck. the view of you beneath him while you take his dick all the way inside your sopping cunt is addicting. it’s also way too slippery because of the mixture of cum on your lower body and the sheets.

“ah,” you look down at the place your bodies meet the second you feel his cock slip out of your pussy. you reach a hand down and guide his tip back to your folds without much thought.

it’s a sight that makes satoru nearly bust a nut right then and there. “missin’ me already?” he tilts his head, that boyish smile on his lips reappearing again. his soaked, white bangs cover his ethereal eyes a little, yet you can still notice the playfulness in them.

“yeah, i do,” you sigh, whining a little as his cock slowly fills you up all the way again, “i always miss you, ‘toru.” you never fail to feel so full whenever you’re intimate with him— he’s big and knows just how to use that to his advantage.

satoru pouts at your words. he knows what you’re indirectly referring to amidst all the physical pleasure. he tries to make as much time for you as he can, without raising suspicion. though sometimes he fails to see you for days. balancing his work schedule, along with his many other duties and his private life was a hassle.

it’s frustrating when satoru is leading a double life, for both you and him. there’s nothing more in this world that he wants than to have you beside him forever. as his wife, not his secret lover.

one day, soon— he promises silently to himself and to you with a kiss.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes out, his thrusts resuming. two of his rough fingers roll your nipple between them, his tongue following to circle the sensitive bud while he drives his dick in and out of you repeatedly. “but i’m all yours tonight, yeah? only yours.”

you nod mindlessly. you trust satoru, he’ll figure this all out. for now, you’ll enjoy every single second you’re able to spend with him.

“mhm,” you hum before your eyes focus on his neck. you know he’s told you not to leave any marks on him, but tonight, you’re feeling shameless. your hand on the back of his head pushes him down until your lips touch his neck.

satoru’s eyes widen at your unexpected action. he can’t deny you anything, even if this is a risky thing to do. he moans when you suck and bite on his skin. you’re leaving hickeys he will have to hide from his wife.

“naughty fuckin’ girl,” he tries to groan, though it comes out as a choked up whimper instead. he bites his lip and his eyes nearly roll back when your legs wrap around his waist, all whilst you’re leaving those dark marks on his neck.

you softly giggle at your own bold move. satoru however, seems to enjoy this more than he thought he would. he allows you access to his neck while he focuses on his set pace.

“y’ just want me to get caught, hm?” the white-haired man clicks his tongue, his balls slapping against your ass, your juices sticking to his skin which makes the sounds of his thrusts even louder. lewder. satoru huffs, “want that woman to know jus’ how well i fuck you, sweetheart?”

you feel your body heat up, the knot in your lower tummy tightening. his increased dirty talk only could mean one thing; he’s close. and so are you. the pleasure of having satoru inches deep in your cunt after not seeing him for two whole days, is driving you insane.

“yes, fuck— yes,” you hiccup, feeling absolutely no shame at this moment. you don’t care how loud you’re getting, if satoru’s neighbours were to hear him have sex with a woman that’s not his wife.

the man himself doesn’t even seem to mind it either. not when he’s this close. he pants before pressing soft kisses against your forehead. the lingering feeling of your lips against his neck remind him of the hickeys you’ve left.

satoru moans against your hot skin. his dick twitches, his balls tighten and his arms wrap around you to cradle you against his bare chest. he’s going to fill you with his hot cum like you deserve. you deserve every single drop and he wouldn’t give it to anyone else but you.

“shit, g’nna cum,” satoru warns after a small whine leaves his throat, “take it, baby. don’t waste a drop, wanna breed you full.” his thrusts turn a bit erratic, body pinning yours to the mattress so you have nowhere to run. all you can do is lay there and take it— take his cum while you reach your own climax.

white dots appear in his vision as satoru releases rope after rope of hot, sticky cum inside of you. his hips are pressed tightly against yours— leaving no chance for his seed to trickle out of you.

the satisfaction that fills satoru’s chest is like no other. a small grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he leans his body weight on top of you slightly, catching his breath. your trembling frame rests beneath him while you’re trying to regain composure as well.

“there y’ go, atta girl,” satoru coos and kisses your forehead. he treats you so well, even after sex. he treats you like you’re his true wife. which you should be.

he rubs your sides with his hands to calm you down. his own breath is still shake as he looks down at you with a grin. a wicked idea pops up in his head once he sees the thick trail of cum that’s left on your slit after he pulls out.

“y’know how i told ya that i’ll make y’ my wife one day?” satoru hums, eyes focused on both your face and cum-covered pussy. he has told you before that he will find a way to officially make you his.

and he finally just realised the perfect way to do it.

“mhm,” you nod with a dazed look in your eyes. you wrap your arms around satoru’s shoulders and hug him, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. you can practically feel the smirk on his lips as his breath ghosts over your ear.

his hand travels down to your tummy, fingers splayed over the soft flesh; “good, ‘cause y’re gonna need to play the part for me already. gonna fill you up ‘til you’re nice and swollen with my kids, wifey.”

[atrwriting]

shouldn’t have — lumberjack!logan x fem!reader

listen usually i would hate this plotline but like ?? are yall seeing what im seeing ?? feminism exists and is alive and well until we see this man and suddenly we’re all damsels in distress

as always, warnings: reader was in an abusive relationship, logan the savior (i have issues ok), dom logan, bratty reader, choking, slapping, rough p in v sex, swearing, breeding kink tee hee

mdni!!!1!!1!1!1!11!

————

you had been with your boyfriend — well, now ex-boyfriend — for about three months before you had noticed something was wrong. just a few things, you thought. nothing bad. nothing to worry that much about. it felt like he was doing so many things too much; sleeping, drinking, smoking, video games… yelling…

you thought by getting him a job with some men you knew would be fine — that it would solve every problem. why would it not have? he just needs a job, you thought. just something to get him up in the morning… something to give him purpose…

you were wrong — oh, you were so wrong.

at first, everything was fine — up every day, home every night, and only so many hours at the end of the day could be dedicated to all of those bad little habits you hated so, so much. he was drinking, smoking, playing video games so much less — you almost forgot why you were so annoyed and insistent on this new job in the first place.

...until he stopped coming home before midnight.

...until the yelling got worse.

until he got worse.

you almost left him — almost. until, one night — he asked if you could pick him up from the bar after work so he wouldn’t have to wait before he could drive home. you could've squealed you were so relieved, so happy. it seemed like a step in the right direction, and you were hopeful. you thought the kinks were working themselves out, making it so you could finally work out your issues with him. like the good girlfriend you were, you drove to the bar promptly for half past ten and waited in the parking lot for him.

after a few minutes, you sent a text.

a set of ten minutes had passed as you sat there, waiting.

...then another.

...and then another.

you called him, but there was no answer.

no fucking answer.

you ground your teeth when the call was sent to voicemail. voicemail? fucking voicemail? you stared down at the screen like it mocked you — showing you the reflection of your face in the glass like you were some joke, and embarrassment flooded through you.

all you could think about was self-respect — how if you didn't have any respect for yourself, how could your boyfriend respect you? how could anyone respect you?

it brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away.

and there went the last straw…

you got out of the car and slammed the door. you were buzzing with anger, shivering like you were cold. anger filled you, but adrenaline was what carried you on its back through the doors of the bar and past its threshold. it was the only friend you had in that moment, and you grasped at its hand — letting it lead you to your doom.

what you didn't expect what form your doom would take.

…your doom came in the form of a hot blonde with legs and cleavage for days.

she laid horizontal across the bar — shot glass in her belly button, line of salt up her abdomen. you watched a man, dirty from the work day, eye the blonde with hunger in his eyes. he wrapped his dry lips around the rim of the shot glass, and threw his head back. almost immediately, he licked the salt trail with a flat, heavy tongue. the blonde above him giggled at the texture of his tongue on her tanned skin — and once he was done, she grasped both sides of his face and pulled him towards her.

that’s when you saw the guy’s face — smiling and drunk — your boyfriend’s face. men around them hollered as he pushed her against the bar top, kissing her hard. all you could do was stare — adrenaline left you high and dry when you needed it most. you were just cold now — cold, lonely, and embarrassed. so embarrassed. so fucking embarrassed.

“you’re his ol’ lady… aren’t you?”

your head cocked to a stool near you, occupied by one of his coworkers. he had a cigar in his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow at you, barely looking at you. his hand was around two fingers of whisky — and it had never looked so tempting.

“was,” you whispered, politely correcting him and locking eyes with him.

“good,” was all he said before he threw back the rest of his whisky and stood from his chair.

you were still in shock, frozen in place. all you could do was watch as the man pushed through the crowd, and stood in front of your boyfriend. you stared at the man's shoulders — covered by thin flannel that would never stand a chance against the muscles underneath. you gulped as he stood toe to toe with your ex-boyfriend, but the man didn't look half as scared as your ex did.

“you’re fired," was all the man said.

everyone around the man, including the blonde and your boyfriend, went silent. jaws were on the floor — no one knew what to do. what could they do? they weren't expecting this — not when the fun had been going on for so long. the man couldn’t have cared less — he waited for a split moment, awaiting any sort of rebuttal from your ex-boyfriend… and that was when your ex noticed you, staring at him. instead of running to you, begging for forgiveness… he started begging the man that had fired him for his job back.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes. of course.

“not happening, bub,” he spat. “now — i’m going to go buy your ex-girlfriend a drink with your last paycheck. ask your buddies for a loan on the tab with the blonde."

and with that, the man turned on his heel back towards you. when he turned, he didn’t bow his head or look at the floor — he looked straight at you. and for the first time that night, you saw what he really looked like — a man. the man radiated masculinity like he was the poster child for the hard working all-american man. worn jeans, work boots, faded flannel… the works. his body was thick with muscle, and impressive sight that was definitely thanks to his job. the years showed on his face — but in a way that was handsome and reliable. life seemed to have chewed him up and spit him out, but he didn’t look the type to go down without a fight.

with a moment or two, he was in front of you. he sat down on the stool, and patted the one next to him — gesturing to you.

“what’re you having, sweetheart?”

you stared up at him with confusion and surprise in your eyes, but a blush across your cheeks. your mouth fell open, stammering — as if you hadn’t been embarrassed enough tonight. your eyes darted to your ex — the intoxication starting to wear away as realization set in. he lost his job, girlfriend, and ego all in a matter of a moment — and you knew how these things ended.

“i think i should —“

“he won’t bother you,” the man responded, gesturing to the bartender for two more drinks.

you took a cautious step back — eyes on your ex who was talking with his work buddies now, eyeing you and the man. the blonde had been discarded, scoffing as she found herself in a similar position as you — chewed up and spit out, but not willing to fight.

you were fumbling for your keys now, anxiety beginning to take over. you were shaking as you took several steps back, not knowing whether to run or start crying was the better answer.

the man who had stood up for you then stood, sighing. he saw your ex walking towards you now, and he rolled his eyes in the way an owner would be annoyed with a dog going back for something they were explicitly told not to. the man drank his whisky, and handed you the other glass.

the man only had a take one step towards your ex before your ex had stopped in his tracks, eyes and mouth wide.

“got all the time in the world, bub,” the man spoke. the man had his fists balled at his sides — and, within an instant, sharp bones almost two feet long had sprung from between his knuckles. the man didn’t wince — but everyone else did. with a cocked head, he then continued, “do you?”

when your ex didn’t move, and the man was satisfied that none of his friends were going to make a move… he turned on his heel and stalked back toward you.

“finish your drink, sweetheart — we’re leaving.”

within five minutes, you had finished your drink before you went outside. there was logan — same bone swords unsheathed, but now stabbing into black tires on a familiar truck. you smiled — now your ex didn’t have a ride home.

“can i give you a lift?” you asked.

few hours later — there you sat with the man, who you now knew as logan. you were on one side of the couch — you curled in the corner on the end, and him in the middle turned towards you. the alcohol was flowing, so you didn’t need a blanket over you to keep warm. now, sat across from logan, both of you appearing to feel the effects of whisky — all you wanted was his warmth.

“good hostess,” he spoke as you refilled his whisky glass.

you blushed. “nothing compared to what you did for me back there — least i can do.”

“i gotta ask —“ he said, taking a sip. “why him?”

you shrugged. “guess i learned the hard way you can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change.”

he looked at you then — almost through you. you wondered if he could see the same ghosts in your eyes that you could see in his.

he shook his head then, chuckling — appearing to want to break the heavy air. “you’re too young for talk like that, doll — won’t allow it.”

you returned his laugh, realizing you were happy for the subject change. “not every man is like you, logan — first one i met that would’ve done what you did.”

he set his glass down then, and you were struck with the realization of how broad his chest and shoulders were. how the fabric of the stretched across his muscles. how heavy the scent of whisky, maple, wood, and cigar smoke hung on his clothes. you stopped staring at him to meet his eyes then, but he was already looking at you.

logan caught you staring. a blush rose to your cheeks.

“there was a time where men i knew would’ve killed to be served whisky by a pretty girl like you,” he spoke, voice gruff. “time where i would’ve.”

you smiled, insecure under his gaze. “you’re easy on the eyes, lo — can’t imagine you had to put much effort into getting with someone you wanted.”

“oh, doll —“ he spoke, leaning in towards you. his face was barely inches from you, and you wanted him to touch you. you wanted those big, calloused hands on your soft skin — wanted it so fucking bad — but he wouldn’t put them on you. not yet. not quite yet. “sweet, pretty things like you? worth all of the effort in the fucking world.”

you felt one of his hands — his large fucking hands — slide down from your knee, to the side of your thigh. he squeezed lightly on the flesh, loving the feeling of your soft skin. you met his eyes then, dark and hungry. he wasn’t hesitating — he was waiting for your approval or disapproval. he wanted you to know he wanted you, but also that you had the final say.

“y’gonna let me show you how a real man’s supposed to treat a woman?” he asked, tucking a hair behind your ear. “hmm, sugar? climb in my lap, and i’ll show you.”

curiosity killed the cat, but not before it found out what the secret was.

logan fell back against the couch — man spreading, hands on the tops of his thighs with his eyes on you. only on you. there was no more of the adrenaline from earlier, no — but there was the confidence from the warm, dark liquid flowing through your veins. it gave you the push you needed, making you throw a leg over his hips, and sit your ass down right over the tent in his jeans.

“that’s a girl, yeah…” he spoke, his hands ran up and down your thighs. his eyes were raking up and down your body in the way that your ex had looked at the blonde, and it only added to your confidence. you wanted to be wanted — and logan made you feel more sexy than your ex ever had. “tell me, sweetheart — when you look at me, what do you see?”

“a man,” you respond, before you can stop yourself.

he raises his brow then — surprised, but not displeased at your answer. “ — yeah? and what makes me a man?”

you thought for a second, as the alcohol clouded your ability to be witty. you couldn’t pinpoint why — you just knew. while you were thinking, almost stammering — you felt his hand snack underneath your skirt and find your lacy panties. you were struck with the sudden realization of how badly you wanted to show him what they looked like, convinced he would like them — but he wouldn’t let you take off your skirt. you eyed him, confused.

“not yet, doll,” he spoke, voice hoarse. his eyes never left yours. “not taking off this skirt — no matter how much i want to — until you know for sure that i deserve to.”

“logan…!” you grumbled, throwing your head back in mock laughter and frustration. “y’gonna make me beg? come on —"

“beg? not tonight, darlin’,” he laughed. you felt one of his fingers prod at your folds through your panties, poking through your lips to find the hidden sensitive parts of you. you sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling — curious and turned on. “but you are gonna tell me everything you’re going to look for in a man from this point on. when i’m satisfied, then i’ll let you cum.”

“didn’t think you liked games,” you breathed, curiosity, pleasure, and anxiety mixing in your blood.

“i don’t,” he said with finality and sincerity. “i teach lessons, sweetheart — and now i’m gonna teach you how a man should treat you."

“yeah?” you breathed, keeping your lips barely centimeters from his. “and how are you going to accomplish that?”

“rock those pretty hips against my hand, baby —“ he spoke, pressing his fingertips against your clothes core. “and tell me types of guys you're goin' to avoid."

you went to question him, confused — but he pulled you right back in. he pressed two finger tips against your panties, creating the most devious fiction against your sensitive bud. you jumped at the feeling, but he kept your hips steady.

“there’s one —“ he chuckled. “didn’t know how to touch you, yeah? so sensitive — ‘s like he never did.”

“he didn’t know how,” you whined, rolling your hips against his fingers and letting your eyes drift close.

“not surprised,” he grunted. “never a good worker either. so, what’re we avoiding next time, sugar, huh? tell me.”

“i don’t know… i don’t…” your mind was warm and fuzzy now, leaving you unable to answer.

he swatted at the flesh of your ass then, causing your hips to jerk and your eyes to open in shock. he looked up at you, unfazed. “you don’t wanna cum, do you? want me to use you just like him — leave that pussy wet and wanting?”

you giggled. “don’t tempt me.”

his hand reached for your throat, an evil smirk on his lips. “you’re a naughty fucking thing.”

you nodded feverishly, loving the grip on your throat. “for you, lo. i’ll avoid lazy men, i promise —“

“you better,” he warned, his eyes looking up at you with hunger. his wingers were rubbing hard against your clit, and you wanted him oh, so badly to dip into the fabric and roll around your clit or supple hole. “another — tell me. now.”

“careless,” you whined, your hips jerking. “i’ll avoid careless men, logan, i promise —“

“fuck that,” he spat, the grip tightening on your throat. “you’re mine, darlin’.”

he threw you down onto the couch then, landing on your back with a thud. he gave up on his own game, and your confidence bloomed within you. to be so sweet, so pretty — to make a man like logan stumble? forget what he was doing, all because he wanted you so bad? to be in between your plump thighs, round lips, and encircles in those pretty arms? your cheeks were burning pink as your gaze came back into focus above you. there stood logan, on his knees on the couch, as he unbuttoned his flannel with an animalistic chase in his eyes. you couldn’t help but put yourself on your elbows, rubbing your thighs together to keep the friction and heat up. but your eyes? oh, your perfect, big eyes? they were on logan’s. they told you everything you needed to know as he tore off his belt.

“you want me to use you, baby?” he asked as he unzipped his belt. “that’s what my girl wants?”

“by you, lo — a real man,” you breathed, stroking his cock and lining his cock up with the entrance of your pussy.

“good fucking girl,” he growled, plunging his cock into your pussy.

his hips snapped against yours, causing you to jump into the arm rest. you held onto the arm rest, your pillow, to keep you steady. logan liked the sight — pretending that you had your hands tied up above your head as your breasts lifted with your arched back, preening upwards just for him. he watched the shivers run up and down your spine, causing your nipples to peak. he watched them hungrily as they bounced for him and only him, wanting to pull both into his mouth and show you just how greedy real men are.

and when he saw you release the grip held by one hand, and watched it travel down the length of your abdomen, with the end goal of your clit — he swatted your hand away, angry. his gaze — it screamed how fucking dare you?

“fuck off with that shit —“ he spat, pushing your hand back down to hold onto the head rest. “this first time, darlin’? i make you cum — and you lie there, and you take it.”

you whined at his words, your big beautiful eyes on his hungry irises. you folded your lip in between your teeth before you curled your hips up to meet his, wrapped your legs around his hips. never had you been treated with such confidence, such ease — but you wanted him to work for it, see how far he could go to prove to you that he was the best. “you promise, old man? you can keep up?”

the air went still then — but your smirk didn’t falter. it should've, you would realize later. you should've been afraid of the man, knowing what he was capable of when someone tested him. the difference was... logan welcomed the spice in you, as long as it was his to silence. logan’s eyes went wild and dark then, realizing the challenge. he held back so much with you, trying to keep the man awake and the beast dormant — but the greedy girl in you just kept knocking.

he flipped you then — forcing you onto all fours. he bent you over the arm rest, your throat in the crook of his elbow. his free hand groped and pulled at the flesh of your ass, letting go only to smack it. smacksmacksmack. his tough and calloused skin would leave marks, you were sure of it — but it only made your pussy wetter. the sounds were pornographic, filling the room and his nose and ears.

“wasn’t much of a brat tamer, was he?” he spat, fucking into your puffy pussy. his grip on your throat wasn’t tight, but it kept you in control. there was no moving, and there definitely wasn’t enough air to mouth off. “nothing sweet about you — just a greedy fucking girl with the neediest fucking pussy. i'll get'ya there, doll — don't worry now."

you held onto his forearm for dear life, trying to keep your balance as you arched your back up into him. you felt your juices leak around around your sopping wet cunt and down both of your thighs and logan’s. the air was thick with your scent and sounds, pricking at logan’s heightened hearing. your whines — oh, your whines, your fucking whines! — were filling his ribcage and warming every part of him that wasn’t touching you. his lips were sucking at your neck, nipping at the skin . he felt the vibrations of your moans against his lips and he had to fight every instinct to sink his teeth into your shoulder, ruining you for everyone else.

“please — please —“ you choked, smacking against the arm rest. he pulled your free arm back behind your back, forcing you to take everything he gave you.

“not stopping until that pussy creams, baby,” he spat into your ear. his hips were relentless against yours, plunging in and out of your wet folds as he kept them tight and controlled for his use. “when that dumb fuck comes back, to get his stuff? i want him to know who’s pussy this is now. that fucked out look on your face? yeah? that’s all that sack of shit is gonna see before i slam the door in his face.”

“fuck, logan —“ you whimpered. “i’m so close. f-feels so good. please, don’t stop —“

“i know, baby, i know….” he moaned. you reached underneath him, grabbing at his heavy sack and rolling his balls with your finger tips. he jumped at the feeling, curious how a fucked out little thing like you still had so much energy to tease. “never ends with you, huh, does it? always wan’ more?”

“cum with me, lo —“ you choked out. “come on — make me feel it.”

he smacked your ass once more, grasping onto the rippling skin. you could feel your tight muscles, like cement — knowing they would be sore in the morning. you rolled his balls in between your fingers, keeping as controlling of a grip on him as he kept on you. his breaths were ragged against your neck, broken and feverish. your eyes were screwed shut, trying to find his lips in the darkness as you fought with and against logan.

“fill my pussy, baby,” you whined, reaching to any part of him you could grab.

when he saw your eyes, most of the begging in them rather than your tone — he couldn't help it. it took over him before he could even realize it was happening. how could he deny you so,ething you wanted so badly? asked for so sweetly? logan came before you did — much to his dismay, but only for a moment. he felt his skin shiver before his hips snapped forward once to meet yours, trapping you against the arm rest. he rutted into you as the walls of your pussy were coated — dressed in his seed, his spend, his claim. you could hear a growl rumble low in his chest, tearing up at the sound of such a big and strong man at his most vulnerable, his most peaceful state — only for you.

when you reached for your clit again — whining and wanting, ready to take advantage of hearing his satisfied moans in your ear — he smacked your hand away. you scoffed at his movement, but he shut you up quickly. his own fingers found the spot, and his fingers felt better than yours. you should’ve known they would, with the way they attacked you through your panties.

“pussy’s filled to the brim, sugar —“ he grunted. “now i wanna feel it shake while you’re full of me.”

he was so tired, but not his muscles — definitely not his muscles, nor his grip. it held you tight and upright — forcing you to take it in your weak, fucked out state.

“you want me to fuck my cum farther into you, darlin’?” he rasped, fighting his exhaustion through gritted teeth. “i’m too deep, aren’t i? i’ll fuck my cum into your womb if i’m not careful… but you'd like that, wouldn't you? dirty little thing..."

his warning was a threat, but your mind was too soft to realize. too pliant, too ready for him. all you could do was stare off into space as he held you close to him. his fingers spun circles around your puffy clit, his still hard cock piercing into you. “so very deep, lo…”

and when he smacked your clit once before continuing the assault, you came. you came harder than you ever had before — alone, or imagining something in your head as someone else fucked you. it was like your primal nature was being ripped from you, wanting to show and present itself to match logan’s — to show logan you were his match, that you were his equal. you bucked your hips back to meet his, letting the tip of his sensitive cock graze your sensitive walls as you screamed his name. it filled the room more than anything had for him — and it was all he would think about in the days to come. this woman, so worthy and so ready for him — only for him, and all for him.

“that’s it, sweetheart. work for it, that’s right…”

and as his seed slipped into your womb, open and ready for him as you came, you felt his lips press hard, sloppy kisses against your jaw. your own mouth was open, cries falling from it.

“my good girl learned her lesson, didn’t she?” he rasped. “don’t matter now, anyway — no one but me is gonna be in your bed. i'll burn his shit later."

———

i need to touch grass - L xoxo lmk what u think

[dollerinna]

I WANT TO F**K YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL .

( black noir x fem supe!reader )

summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)

warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’

first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!

The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.

Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.

A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.

On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.

It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.

Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.

Ugh, talk about creepy.

A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.

Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.

But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.

─────────────────

“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”

It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.

An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.

Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.

And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.

Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.

He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.

After all, good girls should never cuss.

Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.

He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.

Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?

Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.

Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.

Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)

Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.

Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.

With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.

“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.

Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.

Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.

Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.

Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.

He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.

The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.

However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.

─────────────────

Meanwhile…

“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.

Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.

“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.

As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.

“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.

True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.

Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.

Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.

Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.

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Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭

[preqwells]

imagining simon with a reader that's extremely awkward since it's their first serious relationship.

simon was practically yearning for your touch, ready to burst at the seams and teeter over while you hesitantly refrained. you two had been dating for at least eight months and had known each other for longer around this point, so he was well-adjusted and within his comfort zone with you; he trusts you. you’ve had flings here and there, all of which lasted more than a month if you were lucky— not your fault these assholes did a complete 180 once you officially put a title on things. for a long time, you convinced yourself that it was your fault since the only common factor in all of those relationships was you until simon was practically desperate to prove you wrong— although his poker face and lack of flowery words would ever allow him to do so.

every time simon would try to get closer to you at night? you didn’t know what to do. cheek kisses? you’d just press your lips into a tight-lipped smile, managing a small “thanks” and averted your gaze. if simon tried to hold your hand? it was almost like you’d find a way to wiggle out of it. it was almost like you weren’t used to affection— how could you of all people not be used to affection, he wondered.

he started to eventually get discouraged at one point. he wasn’t one for affection often, but you didn’t seem to want to get closer to him— why didn’t you want to get closer to him? he’d try to brush it off, but he wasn’t good with words and touch was all he had left.

it was abruptly brought up when you two were seated on the couch, his eyes mindlessly mapping out how your hair framed the side of your face, assuming it began to tickle you from the way you raised your hand and began to gently scratch the softness of your cheek. “why do you move away from me when i try to touch you?” he suddenly asked, his voice vibrating in his chest. he caught onto the way your jaw undulated at the question which only fueled his curiosity. were you aware you had been doing this to him? were you dangling your affection above his head? what a cruel game if you were, honestly. “um…” you began, a silence ensuing between you two. you didn’t know what to say— what could you say? your reasoning felt silly the more you thought about it— you didn’t want to push simon away of all people.

“i don’t know what to do or where to put my hands… and im afraid i’ll get clingy. its not that i dont like it… i do…. i just…” you mumbled, your eyes flickering between his and the tv.

…that was it?

you didn’t know where to put your hands and you thought you’d be clingy just after giving him a small hug? small kiss? he stifled a laugh which you caught onto, prompting a small pout to form on your plush lips. “why’re you laughing? i’m being serious!” you groaned, slightly frustrated at the feeling of simon not taking this seriously. simon took your frustration in stride, the roughness of his hands grazing across your cheeks as he gingerly cupped the sides of your face. “s’nothin— nothin a’ all…” he mumbled, secretly on cloud nine as he silenced you with a kiss, feeling you tense up to which he elicited a throaty chuckle. “it’s not— s’not funny!” you attempted to reprimand him which failed, seeing as how you were holding back your laugh at simon’s smile and at how ridiculous the situation was now that you thought about it.

“you’re right. i’m afraid you’ll be like a leech if you get used to me.” he mumbled against your lips. he was pleasantly surprised at the feeling of your hands returning the gesture and cupping his face, your thumbs grazing the stubble which pricked and prodded needles into the soft pads of your fingers. “shut up.” you mumbled back, pulling him down onto the couch with you as he landed on your chest. he tried to ignore the rapid beating of your heart and how it hammered in your chest, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think it was cute.

if you weren’t used to affection, he’d have to change that.

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 20 - size kink jason todd x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, size kink, tummy bulge

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Oh, look at you go. Being so brave for me."

On the surface the words are soothing, but the tone of Jason's voice fills each syllable with condescension. Not in a bad way. The sickly sweet lilt strikes the perfect chord that has you wetter than any body of water on this earth.

Your hips rise and fall in measure rolls, your cunt embracing his thick cock with every motion. You have to take it slow. Otherwise, you feel like you'll tear yourself in half.

"Jay…" you whimper, lip wobbling and eyes gleaming with the need for him to coddle you, "You're so…"

A sharp whine from your throat cuts off your own words. Your head tilts back and then hangs forward. His tip brushes your sweet spot every time you sink down on him. It makes it nearly impossible to remain coherent. You'd never met somebody who could make you malfunction like this.

"I'm so what?" he coos, prompting you to finish your statement. He already knew the words on the tip of your tongue, but he still wanted to hear them spoken into the drafty air of your apartment.

"You're so big," you choke out.

Another moan falls from your lips before you grit your teeth. Your face scrunches up in tandem with your walls clenching around his length. Vaguely, you hear him chuckle. He then pulls you close and cradles you against his chest.

"And you like that, don't you?" he whispers.

He slumps further down on the couch. His feet press hard against the smooth wooden floor beneath the two of you. The muscles in his thighs flex as he begins to pump his hips up and down. You whine and clutch at his meaty bicep, melting against his warm skin and letting him do all the work right now.

You nearly forget he asked a question at all until he continues speaking.

"I know you do, doll. You like that when you're with me, you're helpless. Don't have to think. Don't have to move. Don't have to do anything but let me use this sweet, little pussy till I'm satisfied," he says.

Your toes curl, your thighs clamping around his own. The pressure doesn't stop him from moving though, not in the slightest. You inhale sharply before nodding against his neck. Of course, you like this. You love it.

You could never get enough of Jason's body. You'd study it forever if he let you. Your pupils felt magnetized whenever they had the chance to drift along his chiseled torso or mentally map the pathways of his scars. Adoration wasn't a strong enough word for how you felt in regards to his figure. Obsession seemed more appropriate.

Fortunately for you, Jason behaved much the same about your body.

In the mornings when he thought sleep still had a strong hold on you, he'd run his fingers over every curve he could find. He'd knead the swell of your ass and press tender kisses between your shoulder blades. As you'd start to wake, he'd wrap his hands around your waist and nearly pop a boner right then and there from how large they looked in comparison.

His favorite thing in the world after a long grueling patrol fast became coming home to you. Not even thirty minutes with your delicate body washed away all the stress caused by hard and rough people he dealt with beyond these walls. Some nights he'd prop your dainty legs over his broad shoulders and dive into your slippery cunt. Other nights he'd get right down to it, shoving his fat cock inside you and watching your belly bulge with the intrusion.

Tonight hadn't been either of those. He'd been home for a change. But having you curled up to his side and pressed against him while he read a book got him worked up pretty fast. It wasn't his fault the two of you just seemed to fit so naturally together.

"My good girl. Soft and sweet all for me," he praises as he continues fucking up into you. His heavy balls lightly slap against your ass with each thrust.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as the repetitive strokes start to build on one another. Small, whimpered expletives drip from your lips like a leaky faucet. He knows you're getting there. All he has to do is ramp up his efforts a little.

His hands lock around your waist like they do on hazy mornings. Just like then, he's obsessed with the way your skin dimples beneath his digits now. He boosts you back and starts bouncing you up and down in addition to his thrusts.

Your eyes roll back at the sensation and you take your bottom lip between your teeth. You don't have to do anything in this position still. He's strong enough to hold you upright all by himself. The only thing you had to do was like he said - stay still and let yourself be used.

"Can never get enough of you, baby, fuck," he grunts. His head falls back against the sagging cushion as he keeps working himself into you over and over. He glances back up at you slightly. "Is it feeling good?"

"Mhm," you whine, "So fuckin' good. So deep. All the way inside."

Your head bobbles around with the way he jerks you up and down on his lap. He smirks at your words and the airy way you say them.

"I know. I can see it," he responds, eyes flitting down to that faint and familiar bump. Evidence of his place inside you.

You only whimper in response. He drops you back down against his chest so one of his hands can slot against your center and rub your clit in fast, tight circles. The flickering feeling draws even more noises of pleasure from you.

The edge sneaks up on the both of you fast. You fall over it first. Your body spasms and seizes between his hands, but his strong grip is enough to keep you in place. For him, it explodes in a muted burst of ecstasy before burning into a brighter one. He wraps his arms around your smaller frame and keeps you flush against his sweaty skin as he fucks his load deep inside.

The both of you stay there while you come down. His chest puffs up and down with deep breaths. Even with all his exertion, his hand rubs soothing stripes along the column of your spine. You lie against him completely motionless, limp against the muscles of his chest. A little pleasure doll all for him to play with.

[mahgyu]

Shiu smut + N$FW audio

• minors do not interact!

──── In Shiu's eyes, you were a goddess. And if your neglectful boyfriend, Toji, didn't treat you as such, Shiu would gladly fulfill that role.

Your moans echoed throughout the room as Shiu's tongue roamed your vulva. One of the man's hands firmly gripping your exposed breasts while your eyes rolled back feeling Shiu simulate a thrust with their tongue at your tight entrance.

Your fingers gripped the black strands of his nape as the male hands descended now to grasp your quivering thighs. Fingers sinking into your sensitive skin, Shiu's agile tongue snapped loudly as it explored every inch of your needy intimacy.

"Ugh... Shiu~" You called out in a plea, lifting your partially naked torso to look at him. The dark deeply hypnotic eyes granted you attention, that sensual gaze making you wet within seconds. "Toji will be back soon, y-you have to go..." You cautioned, practically struggling to resist Shiu's intoxicating touch.

In response, Shiu held you even tighter between his hands, inching his face away from your needy area. "Don't talk about your little boyfriend while I eat your pussy, doll." Kong's pink moist lips formed a smirk before he returned his attention to your intimacy.

Your relationship with Toji was not on the best way, often feeling like he used you as a toy only for his moments of boredom. Today, for instance, Toji had agreed to spend the whole day with you, but the disappointing reality came to light when you found out through Shiu that he had gone out to gamble again. But despite feeling neglected in your own relationship, you still felt terrible for cheating on Toji with his own friend, even though Shiu gave you the attention that Toji never even bothered to give you.

"We both know he doesn't deserve you, sweetie" Shiu said, dragging his wet lips along the inside of your thighs. "He shows you off like you're an accessory, but doesn't even care to truly take care of you" Shiu's face quickly turned dark and serious, his slightly wet hair covering his forehead. "Toji doesn't know how to appreciate the queen he has by his side, my love." As painful as it was to hear those words, it still felt so good to be appreciated like that by someone.

"But, we're acting wrong... Hmm, shit! " You said, trying to control yourself from fucking your needy pussy against Shiu's face who just laughed mockingly at your protest and moved closer to your pussy again.

"I wonder what his reaction would be if he saw us like this. Would he learn how to treat you properly?" Shiu said, dismissing other thoughts, leaving a chaste kiss on your sensitive and swollen clit. "I'd love to see the look on that jerk's face watching another man devour his girlfriend's needy pussy" He needled, staring at you.

Shiu sucked your clit hard, hungrier, more ravenous, delighting in your tearful moans that escaped straight from your throat. "Let me enjoy your sweet little pussy just a bit longer, doll, I promise it'll be worth it in the end." You felt Shiu's hot tongue slickening you up more as he promptly inserted two fingers into your needy and slippery hole. Your eyes rolled with the intrusion, Shiu's name repeatedly falling from your lips in the form of a moan, causing him to grunt. "Let me take care of you, my goddess."

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Shiu's version! I'm curious to know what you guys think. 🤭

Any other character suggestions? Tell me.

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome. 🫶🏻💕

[uravitypng]

big beefy number one pro hero deku is absolutely smitten with you, his chubby little girlfriend, and yeah you're a little bit of an airhead sometimes but that makes you all the more endearing to him.

prior to meeting you he used to feel embarrassed whenever he'd ramble too long about heroes or quirks. after some time people would drown him out after he started his disjointed babbling, not wanting to listen to him ramble. with you it's different, the first time it happened he went to apologise to you. jirou once told him he should try and apologise if he realised he did it to strangers afterwards- especially now that he's a pro hero.

so he goes to stammer out an apology after realising he spoke to you uninterrupted about all might's golden age for five minutes and you tilt your head and giggle at him. izuku draws in a breath. "why are you apologising deku? i really liked hearing you speak. what about his other ages?"

izuku felt like he was malfunctioning, "what?"

you bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling again. who knew pro hero deku is so cute? "like the silver age and the bronze age? are those all the ages or is there like a platinum age too?" izuku grins, you're so interested in what he has to say he can't help it. "wait was is all might's quirk again? he's like strong right? that's his quirk."

izuku pauses for a second before barking out a laugh. you pout and glare at him feigned annoyance. 'she's so adorable and ditzy. i need to speak to her again.'

you constantly praise him, not just for hero work either, and ever single time it makes his entire face red. it doesn't matter that you've been dating for four years now and izuku's brought an engagement ring, he still gets flustered with all the compliments.

people compliment him all the time, it comes with the job, but when you do it it means so much more. " 'zuku you're so brave!" "i don't understand this at all izuku, can you explain it too me? you're the smartest person i know." "you're so pretty." "your hair is so soft." "you're the best hero ever!"

a light sheen of sweat covers your forehead after being manhandled by your boyfriend into the cowgirl position, he loves holding onto your love handles and moving you up and down on his cock, with each bounce your body jiggles. you'll lay in bed with your face buried in his chest as you trace the scars on his arms with your fingertips lightly, "you're so strong izuku." you turn to face him and your chubby cheeks lift as you smile. "i'm so proud of you." his heart skips a beat. he's never loved anyone more than he loves you.

izuku gets possessive of you, he doesn't like people touching you. you're his. before you he never thought he would be jealous or possessive but then you came into his life and he nearly broke the glass of champagne he was holding when he saw todoroki talk to you. he knows todoroki doesn't like you like that, he's liked yaoyorozu since ua but he was too close to you and izuku hated it. his legs moved before he could think, walking up to you both with a forced smile on his face. he wraps his arm around your soft waist, tightly, and kisses your forehead. you smile sweetly at him and lean into his body. izuku brought you home earlier than you thought he would that night, holding onto your thick thigh with one hand while his other hand is on the steering wheel, driving you both home.

his jealous nature was cemented a week after when he saw kaminari talking to you. not just talking to you- flirting with you. if izuku was holding a glass like he was last time he most certainly would of smashed it in anger. you don't even realise what kaminari is doing and izuku knows you don't.

you listen to him talk intently and nod your head, you smile at him and laugh at his jokes. to some people they would think this would be you flirting back but you're not, you're just trying to be nice. kaminari has decided to talk to you and you want to be kind and listen to what he has to say and izuku has really admired that quality about you but right now he wishes you could pick up on the clear signs that kaminari is giving you.

izuku snaps when he sees kaminari look at your cleavage and glance at your body, his eyes lingering on your plush thighs. his voice is strained as he pulls you away from kaminari making some half-arsed, offhanded excuse as he takes you home immediately.

when he saves a small child and he gives them his award winning grin all he can think about afterwards is you. 'who are our kids going to look like? will they have my freckles? or maybe her hair? if they're half as cute as her they'll be the cutest kids ever.' he's already planning their bedrooms and his eyes drift to the baby clothes section at stores.

your boyfriend has the biggest breeding kink known to man and you get reminded of that as he folds your body into a mating press and groans deeply in your ear, "can't wait to see your soft body get softer puppy, promise i'll look after, you won't have to lift a finger." you loudly whine, grabbing hold of his large arms, every thrust causes a loud slapping sound with how wet you are. "you're gonna look so pretty puppy. i'm going to pump you full, make sure you don't spill any for me, just like the good girl you are."

izuku adores you and you feel exactly the same about him.

[bi-writes]

ok but soulmate au with ghost but it's the fucking opposite of rainbows and sunshine. (18+)

you share his trauma. his stress. his anxiety. you do not know who he is, and yet you know the pain of a thousand punches because it's the only feeling he has ever given you. you know the grueling ache of abandonment and the terrible neglect of abuse and the disgusting amalgamation of all your worst nightmares before you even turn 20. everything that he gives you feels aggressive, like it burns, and he only ever gives you reprieve for so long until you just feel it all over again.

it makes you tired. it makes you sick. at first, as a girl, all you wanted to do was comfort him. you wanted to know who he was so you could kiss the cigarette burns that you feel and soak up the blood you know he bleeds.

but as you age, you begin to hate him. you hate him because he does this to you, he hurts you, doesn't he know that he's hurting you? doesn't he know that everything he feels, you feel tenfold, doesn't he know that the terror and the horror of everything he witnesses weighs down your chest, makes you feel like you're drowning over and over and over again?

for a few years into your adulthood, everything is quiet. you feel little except the ache in his back he never tends to, the creak of his knee joints that he refuses to stretch out. you wish you knew him so you could scold him for it, but you curse at a ghost. sometimes you think about doing something to get back at him--you think about carving a FUCK YOU into your arm, about throwing yourself in front of a bus just so he can fucking understand that his entire life is one fucked-up cycle of pain and misery and horror, but you can't bring yourself to do it.

you can't hurt him. you just can't.

and then, the real pain begins. it brings you to your knees, this pain. you scream, you wail, because it feels like you're being carved from the inside-out. your face burns. your chest heaves. you feel like your ribs are breaking, you can't breathe, you claw at the invisible wounds that your soulmate must be wearing, and you beg him to stop, you beg him to let me go--just fucking die already--please, please, please--

those weeks haunt you. the torture he endures, it is branded to you. you wear no scars, and you never lost any blood, but the phantom flesh that you know is gone follows you in your sleep and never shuts up. it talks, it snarls, it eats at your insides. even when he heals, you are never the same. you wake up from nightmares that you know you share with him. you look over your shoulder for the predators you know he has encountered, and you cry yourself to sleep over the loss of something that you can't even decipher because you have no idea who he is or what he buried to feel this way inside.

he's sick. he's twisted. he's a walking corpse, he has no redeemable qualities, he is selfish and mean and cruel, and you hate him, and if it wasn't for the pain that you would feel, the first thing you would do when you saw him is drive something right through his heart to finally stop the undying infection he spreads to everything that he touches.

you know it is him when you finally meet him. you would know him anywhere; you’d know him just by the scars alone who he is because you remember what it felt like when he got them. when you eye the sleeve of tattoos along his left arm--the fucked, shitty, sunburnt art that made it impossible for you to finish your university exams. the faded, grey circles that line the other, ones you recognize being from the burning cigarettes that you would smell when you closed your eyes. and when he removes his mask briefly, you recognize the scar that cuts above his lip and strikes through his eye--that one left you reeling on the bathroom floor particularly loudly. you thought he might be blind if it wasn't for seeing the darkness of both of his eyes.

you start to cry. you start to cry because as soon as he realizes who you are, as soon as you see that flicker of knowing flash across his eyes, all of the hatred and the anger and the poison that plagued you for all this time vanishes. everything you fought so hard to feel, all the misery you wanted to bestow upon him for making your life a living hell, it's gone.

because the universe is cruel, the universe has done what it has done, and it has made this singular person just for you, and against everything you believe, you know that you love him, and you hate yourself for it, and you hate the universe, too.

you have endured. but maybe you endured so he didn't have to. maybe you endured so that he could have this, the feeling that he feels right now, that feeling of sudden relief.

he slides a large hand over his chest, flinching slightly. he blinks, understanding suddenly that he's feeling your joy, your elation. when you shuffle your way over to him, breaching the conversation the men around him are having, you ignore their confused stares as you fling yourself into his chest.

ghost forces you against him, trapping you to him. he practically chokes, tangling a gloved hand into your hair, and you sob into the warm skin of his neck as he hoists you into his arms, into his lap. you don't pay attention to the curious voices around you, you just bury yourself into him and cry. his body is the evidence of all that has happened to him, and you aren't angry anymore because you're relieved.

he's real. he's alive. he's here. he's okay.

when you pull back to look up at him, you blink away the tears that are falling fast down your face. he stares down equally as intensely, drinking in the sight of those big, wet eyes. when he smooths a big hand down your face, he grumbles when he realizes what you are, how you know him.

he never realized this was what he and his soulmate shared. you in your life had never felt pain like he had--he had no idea what he was doing to you. he had no idea what you were surviving at the same time.

he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours, and your lips tremble as you cup his cheeks and hold him close.

it feels wrong to feel this kind of comfort, but he does anyways. he thinks, maybe, that perhaps the only reason he survived was because of you.

because there was someone else, far away, that loved him enough to keep him breathing. even when he thought it was over.