#either way is fuckin brutal

[spicyviren]

Morbid thought of the day: was Aditi crunched or simply digested?

[osamucide]

⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹

[jaesblogstuff]

Attitude, no problem pt.2, ~pt.1~

oral (f receiving), choking (light + consensual)...smut all around man

The door shuts behind you with a soft click. You toe off your boots, still tasting the spice of red curry on your tongue, and Simon’s jacket brushes your back as he follows close—too close. You barely get your coat half-off before his voice cuts in from behind, low and guttural.

“Been watchin’ you pick at your food all night,” he says. “Figured you’d either start talkin’… or you’d need to be reminded how to use that mouth.” The coat slips from your shoulders and hits the floor. You sigh, just feeling the weight of him behind you. “Simon just forge-“

“You were quiet,” he interrupted, fixing your eyes to him. “Not in a way I like, thought I told you to fix that.” Then his hand wraps around your throat, not tight. Just there. A promise. A warning.

He drops—drops—to his knees like he’s being called, like worship’s second nature. His hands grip behind your thighs, lips already parting as he yanks your pants halfway down your legs. “We're gonna have a little talk, isn't that right?” is he talking to my-

You choke on a moan when his tongue slides up your cunt in one long, filthy stroke. His groan vibrates into you like it pisses him off how good you taste. He tongues your clit with slow, brutal circles. Just enough pressure to drive you insane. No hesitation. No restraint.

You gasp, hips jerking, and his hands tighten, yanking one of your thighs over his shoulders. “You always get quiet when you’re like this?” he mutters into you. “Or just when you’re tryin’ to pretend nothin’s wrong?”

You tremble. Fingers in his hair. His tongue flicks just right and your head thumps back against the wall. “I—I wasn’t pretending,” you manage, breathless.

He hums, like he doesn’t believe you. Lips slick with you, tongue working in slow, punishing strokes. “Don’t lie to me,” he growls, voice nearly lost between your thighs. “You forget who the fuck you’re dealin’ with?” He sucks your clit hard and you cry out, back arching off the wall. Your hands claw at his scalp, and it only makes him groan louder, like he likes being pulled apart.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that,” you whisper, broken and raw. “Was just a rough morning” His mouth pauses. Just a second. That’s all it takes. He feels the shift—the hesitation. Feels you go quiet. And he stops, just enough to make you notice. He licks once, slow and deep, then breathes against you:

“Say the rest.”

“there’s nothing more…” he fucking stops. With a forceful suck before he lets go and looks up at you.

“I—” You swallow; he continues.“Fuck—I’m… I’m drowning in reports. Price just keeps dropping shit on my desk like I’m his fucking secretary, and Soap—Christ—he keeps asking me to do his tasks ‘cause—fuck, Simon, slow down—‘cause his ego’s too fucking big to admit he can’t handle them”

Simon groans. Deep. Wrecked. Like your honesty just shattered something in him.

“That’s it,” he mutters, voice rough with something between hunger and satisfaction, like he’s been waiting for that. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

But then, He pulls back again. great. Just enough. Fingers still buried in you, but his mouth gone, heat gone, the drag of his tongue gone, and it’s a betrayal so sharp you actually whine, hips bucking, chasing the friction he just ripped away.

“Simon,” you gasp, dizzy, frantic. “What the fuck—”

“You think you get to come after the way you talked to me today?” His voice is low. Dangerous. Almost smug. “You think I forgot that fuckin’ tone? That little attitude you’ve been throwin’ around all goddamn day? Nah, sweetheart.” His fingers curl deep, just once, slow and devastating. “You’re gonna sit with it.”

“Are you…” You bite back a sob, thighs shaking. “You’re seriously punishing me?”

“Not punishin’.” His lips brush your inner thigh, featherlight, maddening. “Just remindin’ you who’s in charge of that pretty little cunt.” You glare down at him, wrecked and furious and dripping for him. “You’re a fucking asshole.” He grins. Licks his lips like he tastes your fury. “Maybe.”

And then he’s kissing you. Filthy. Deep. Letting you taste yourself on his tongue while he lays you back across the sheets, eyes dark, full of something too big for words. He doesn’t stop. Not until you’ve said it all. Not until you’ve come again with his name in your throat and your fears on your lips. You don’t even remember when he stripped— just the heat of his skin against yours now, the weight of him between your thighs, the thick slide of his cock dragging across your slit, smearing you open.

He doesn’t press in right away. He waits. Watches your eyes. Palm still cupping your jaw. Like this part—this slow unraveling—is what he’s been craving all along. “You sure?” he murmurs, voice pitched low, thumb brushing your cheek like he’s grounding you to the moment. “I need to hear it.” (a man of consent yes)

You breathe, shaky. Still wrecked. Still open. “Yes,” you whisper. “Please, Simon.” His name sounds small on your tongue. He groans, like it guts him. And then he presses in.

Thick, slow, unrelenting.

You gasp, hips twitching, legs spreading wider to take him. He moves like he’s afraid to break you, but desperate to fill you, to feel every inch of you wrapped around him. “Fuck,” he breathes. “So tight—still fuckin’ twitchin’”

He sinks deeper. You claw at his shoulders, mouth parting in a soundless moan as he bottoms out, your walls clenching around him like you don’t want to let go. And he just stays there. Not moving. Just breathing against your throat. Letting you feel the weight of him. Letting you get used to it—to him.

Then his lips find your ear. “You don’t need to ask for help,” he murmurs, voice low and burning. “You need to take it. From me. Always.”

He rolls his hips. Once. Deep.

It knocks the air from your lungs. And then again. Slow, deliberate thrusts that drag against every swollen, sensitive nerve he already unraveled with his mouth. He fucks you like he’s trying to build you back up one stroke at a time- steady, grounding, anchored in something real.

Your nails dig into his back. You whimper. He groans, mouth at your throat.

“You needed this, didn’t you?” he rasps. “Needed me to shut your head up for you.” You nod, barely, eyes rolling back as your body tightens around him. “Yeah,” he mutters, leaning closer, lips brushing your ear. “I know. I fuckin’ know.”

Your hips buck. Your eyes burn.

“Simon…”

You sob into his mouth when he kisses you again. This time deeper, tongue claiming yours like he’s desperate to steal your silence, your sorrow, your shame.

His thrusts grow harder, never fast, Just deep. Measured. Every one a promise.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes, over and over, like a prayer. “You hear me? You’re not goin’ anywhere. Not leavin’ you to drown in it.” Your body starts to quake again. The pressure builds fast—your cunt fluttering around him, oversensitive from his mouth, your second orgasm rising like a flood. And he feels it. Of course he does.

“Let go,” he groans. “Don’t hold back this time.”

You fall apart with a cry. Clenching around him, back arching, fingers gripping his forearms like a lifeline as your body spasms through another high, softer than before, but deeper. Devastating. It leaves you wrung out, voice caught in your throat, chest heaving.

He buries himself to the hilt, head tucked against your neck, groaning like it splits him open. Warmth floods you, and he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe—just holds you like the world outside the bed doesn’t exist.

Minutes pass. His hand cradles your jaw. He kisses your temple, once, slow. “Next time,” he murmurs, breath still catching, “you ask for what you need, yeah?” You nod, wrecked. Quiet. And you don’t miss the way he holds you tighter after. Like he already knows it’ll take time. Like he’s not going anywhere until you believe it.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSHARING IS CARINGㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Dick Grayson x Wayne Reader x Yandere Jason Todd

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : They Aren't Really Good At Sharing Things. But One Thing That They Both Can Agree On Is That They Like Fucking You.

☆⁠ WARNING : MINOR DNI, straight up smut, threesome, stepcest.

☆⁠ NOTES : Reader is female as usual. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The Batcave smells like sweat, blood, and sex—raw and dirty, the kind of stench that clings to the walls and stains the mats beneath you. You’re fucked-out already, sprawled ass-up on the grimy training floor, caught between Dick and Jason like some twisted prize they’ve been clawing at for hours.

Dick’s got you pinned, his moral bullshit long gone, just a snarling, sweat-drenched man with his cock buried balls-deep in your cunt. His hands are bruising your hips, fingers digging in so hard you’ll feel the marks for days, and he’s growling against your neck, all that golden-boy charm fucked into oblivion. “Jason, you’re fucking her too hard,” he snaps, voice ragged, his thrusts sloppy as he tries to keep some shred of control. But he’s lying—he’s just as brutal, slamming into you like he’s trying to carve his name into your goddamn soul.

Behind you, Jason’s massive hands gripping your waist like a vice as he rams into you from the other end, his dick stretching your ass so wide it burns in the best fucking way. “She’s a big girl, Dickie,” he snarls, voice dripping with venom and lust, his breath hot and damp against your ear. “She can take my cock—look at her, fuckin’ drooling for it.” He yanks your hair back, forcing your face up from the mats, and you whimper, spit trailing down your chin, your body shaking under the onslaught.

“Fuck, I don���t wanna break her,” Dick grits out, but his hips don’t stop, pounding into your dripping pussy with wet, obscene slaps that echo through the cave. He’s a mess—hair plastered to his forehead, sweat rolling down his chest, eyes wild as he watches where he’s splitting you open. His fingers slip, slick with your juices, and he smears it across your thigh like he’s marking you.

“Then don’t be a pussy,” Jason fires back, his thrusts brutal, unrelenting, his balls slapping your skin with every filthy shove. “She’s begging for it. Ain’t that right, princess?” He slaps your ass, hard, the sting making you yelp, and you feel a fresh gush of wetness spill out of you, soaking Dick’s cock even more.

“I’m—I’m fine,” you choke out, voice wrecked, barely audible over the sound of flesh smacking flesh. “Please, Dick, fuck me harder—please.” It’s a desperate, slutty whine, and Jason laughs, dark and mean, his hand sliding down to rub at your clit, rough and careless.

“Listen to her, Grayson,” Jason taunts, his fingers slipping in your slick, making you scream as he presses down hard. “She’s a fuckin’ Wayne—she’s built for this shit. Give her that pretty-boy dick like you mean it.”

Dick’s eyes flare, lust and fury crashing together, and he snaps. “Fuck it,” he snarls, and then he’s gone—fucking feral—his hips slamming into you so hard your tits bounce, your whole body jolting forward into Jason’s punishing rhythm. “You want it? Take it, then,” he growls, voice low and dangerous, his cock driving so deep you feel it in your throat. Your cunt’s a sopping mess, cum and slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the mats in a filthy puddle.

Jason’s not letting up either—his thrusts are savage, splitting your ass open, and he’s grunting like an animal. “Goddamn, you’re tight,” he rasps, his voice cracking with raw need. “Takin’ me like a fuckin’ champ—shit, you’re a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Dick spits, but it’s half a moan, his grip on your hips bruising as he drills into you. “She’s not yours—she’s mine.” You feel Dick twitch inside you, close to blowing his load.

“Keep dreamin’, asshole,” Jason shoots back. He leans down, spits on where his cock’s stretching you, and the wet slide of it makes you scream, your body bucking between them. “She’s creamin’ all over me—fuck, look at that.”

They’re both losing it, and you’re the center of their storm—fucked-out, dripping, your cunt and ass clenching around them as they take you apart. “You’re a goddamn mess,” Dick groans, his voice breaking as he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your face is tear-streaked, lips swollen, and he smirks. “So fuckin’ beautiful like this.”

“Move,” Jason snaps, shoving Dick’s hand away, and then he’s yanking you up by the hair again, his lips crashing into yours in a messy, bruising kiss—teeth and tongue and pure desperation. Dick growls, jealous, and his next thrust is so hard you see stars, your moan swallowed by Jason’s mouth.

“Gonna cum,” Dick pants, his rhythm faltering, and Jason’s right there with him, his grunts turning into low, guttural curses. “Fuck—me too,” he mutters, and they’re both gone—Dick spilling hot and thick into your pussy, Jason unloading in your ass, their cum mixing with yours as you clench around them, shattering again.

You’re a wreck—screaming, shaking, cum oozing out of you as they keep thrusting through it, milking every last drop. Dick collapses first, pulling you down with him, his chest heaving as he buries his face in your neck, muttering your name like a prayer. Jason’s slower to let go, his cock still twitching as he pulls out, cum dripping down your thighs in a sticky, filthy mess.

“Jesus fuck,” Jason breathes, slumping beside you, his hand resting on your ass like he’s not ready to stop touching you. Dick’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you close, and for a moment, it’s just the three of you—panting, wrecked, tangled in the aftermath.

“You’re did well,” Dick murmurs, his voice soft, lips brushing your skin.

“Damn right, good girl.” Jason adds, his fingers tracing the bruises they’ve left.

And as you lie there, fucked-out and sweaty, between their body.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“Fuck, you’re so wet. This all for me, love?”

You felt your thighs squeeze around your lieutenants large hand at his filthy words, a soft mewl escaping your lips as your mind was too hazy to formulate a response.

“Nothing to say? You had plenty to say earlier when you were running that filthy little mouth of yours.” Simon’s tone was teasing, borderline mean. “Wanted me so damn bad, here I am sweetheart.”

You let out a strangled gasp as he curled his thick fingers, grazing the spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. “P-please.”

“Please? Please what. Use your words.” Simons fingers didn’t relent now that he knew he found your spot. He was nothing if not relentless.

“Please, I need to cum, sir.” You squealed, your eyes fluttering shut, your mind running completely blank.

At that, Simon ripped his fingers from your aching hole, his eyes not leaving yours as he proceeded to suck his digits clean. Before you could even comprehend how impossibly hot the action was, he had you spun around, practically slamming your back against the door of the supply closet you were currently hiding away in.

“You gonna be a good fuckin’ girl for me, Y/N?” He cooed in your ear, his hands roughly ripping your pants down to pool around your ankles. “Gonna be a good girl for you lieutenant?”

You gave a weak nod in reply, not daring to trust your voice. It seemed to be enough for him, as he was quick to unfasten his belt, his own pants pooling around his ankles as he lifted you with ease, prompting your legs to wrap securely around his bulky waist.

“Your pretty little thighs are shaking, love.” He was shamelessly teasing you now, but you’d lost any sense of shame at this point. “Does my cock still make you nervous, even after I’ve fucked you in this closet more times than either of us could count?”

You let out a muffled cry, biting into Simon’s shoulder as he slammed himself inside you without warning, his thick cock a welcome intrusion within your walls. The stretch was delicious, your warm walls welcoming his thick length with ease. You’d never get sick of this, of the way he felt inside of you.

His pace was brutal, never pausing once to let you adjust. He never did, he knew you could take him. You always did.

Your whines seemed to encourage him as he pressed into you harder, your back sure to be bruised from the force of being shoved against the door, but neither of you cared.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you for any one else, sweetheart.” He growled into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your earlobe. “Gonna ruin my pretty girl.”

And Simon Riley is a man of his word.

[multistan-247]

dilf!sukuna thinks it’s annoying how much you ogle him over the dumbest shit—but the smug tilt of his mouth says he eats it up. he was well-maintained for a man who ate the food for three people and went to the gym whenever time allowed him. infact, his trainer was surprised at his muscle definition, and asked tips from sukuna instead. his sharp words and scowls had mellowed, along with the addition of a few lines on his face, countable strands of grey in pink.

he's bent over the bonnet of his car, white tank soaked through and through, painted to his back. he was a sight for sore eyes, your husband, as he grumbled something about "fuckin' mechanics overcharging for shit—"

every muscle is on display, thick biceps flexing as he props the hood open with one arm, veins trailing down to thick, grease-smudged fingers. his wedding band flashes when he lifts his hand to rub at his lightly stubbled jaw, staring at the dozen hundred engine parts, deep in thought, that did something to you that you could never explain. one of the reasons why some of your fights never lasted for more than 2-3 days.

you hated summer, always whining about the heat and the stickiness that comes with it, but suddenly had a new-found liking for it.

"been calling your name like five times, woman. the fuck you starin' at?" he grunts, huffing as he lifts his top to wipe at the sweat collecting at his forehead. dilf!sukuna, whose abs peek out when he shifts, glistening like a damn oil painting, that stupid tank top riding up just enough to flash his happy trail and that sinful v-line you ached to trace with your tongue.

“if you’re gonna keep eye-fuckin’ me, at least be useful and grab me a cold beer.”

you roll your eyes, already halfway there to the fridge because—how do you say no, especially to a man like him when he's standing there, looking like that?

shirt clinging to his frame, grease staining his fingers and cheek like it belonged there, sweat trailing down his neck like it knew where it was going. you hand him the beer, and he pops the cap on the edge of the car hood like it's nothing. he takes a long swig, jaw flexing, throat working, and the scene before you seems to roll in slow motion. you shake your head to clear yourself of the haze that seems to consume you from head to toe, settling into a quiet ache between your legs.

he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, red eyes catching yours over the bottle like he knows what he's done. he always does.

and sure, this image of him reminds you of your apartment from before, the one you guys had before the bungalow. annoyed yells over the trail of socks he'd strewn around the place, or the way he'd let the dishes dry in the sink for more than two days, which would ultimately lead you to snipe at him, do the dishes yourself, or when you were at your limit, you’d shove at his chest, wild with irritation and sweat-slick fury, only for him to grab your wrist, drag you close, and say “do that again, I dare you."

the last time that happened, the AC had given up mid-argument. the place was already small to begin with, landlord couldn't care less about maintenance, the mess didn't help either. july was a damn furnace and you both were pissed, breathing in each other's heat, too hot and too stubborn to back down. and then, you had yielded when his calloused hands sought purchase on your waist, pressed you up against the counter, kissed you like he was picking a fight with your mouth, pawing at the silly excuses for clothes like he couldn't get it off you fast enough.

his name spat out in anger turned into unwilling moans he pushed inside of you—thrust after brutal thrust. he bent you over the kitchen counter like he owned it, like he owned you. one hand palming at the fat of your hip, the other in your hair, yanking you back so he could hear the way your voice broke each time he drove into you.

the sharp slap of his hand across your ass had you jolting forward, only to arch back with a desperate whimper. the sting bloomed, made your hips snap back to meet him harder, clenching around his cock, your body was begging for more. it earned you low, mocking words and a harsh tug to your nipples.

“where did all the fight go, hmm?"

he'd murmured into your damp neck, the vibrations of his words the last thing you remembered, your cunt clenching around him helplessly till the moment he found release in you, breathing heavily.

now? you’re here again. sweat trailing down your back. his hold, bruising the skin around your waist, pulling you flush as fingers tangled in his spiky, short pink hair while you chase at his lips like he’s your last meal. his hold, tying you to him, to this moment.

you're barely catching your breath when he mutters,

“when did you say nanami’s bringing the lil’ brat back?”

you blink, brain fried. “not ‘til evening."

he grins, his eyes flaring. “good. now get on the hood. haven't even started on you yet.”

maybe you do hate summer. but if this is what it looks like on him, you’ll happily burn for it.

A/N: had to get this out of my system. my ovaries are sobbing. currently summer here, it's soooo hot. and I'm prepping for exams. haven't written or posted in years. hoping this fed you as much as it fed me. might make this a series, based on requests. feedback is welcome!!

all rights reserved © 2025 multistan-247. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[apatheticsunday]

Graveyard Favors

AKA "The Lazarus Pit doesn't exist and Jason Todd crawls out of his grave. Only for a huge, red-eyed dog to escort him to the Ghost King, who apologies for making him a zombie. But, uh, I can kill your murderer for you?" prompt!

(Also known as Grimm!Cujo plays fetch with a Zombie Robin and Danny's just trying to undo a really, really bad clerical error.)

I like the idea of Cujo playing as a sort of Church Grimm, Charon (Ferryman of the Styx River in the Underworld), and Cerberus. He protects graves, guides the dead, and is Danny's personal guard dog to the entrance of the Infinite Realms. There are portals in every graveyard across the Realms because ghosts typically haunt where their bodies are. The King's servants collect the ghosts from Earth graves and safely into the Ghost Zone.

But what happens when a ghost re-enters its original dead body?? Do the servants just... shrug it off, say it's an Earth problem? Or do they do the workplace equivalent of going to the manager? I like the idea that it's actually Danny's fault and he's scrambling to keep it under wraps, to not do any worse of a job than he already is (he's still young for a Ghost King, he's going to make a lot of mistakes early on, right?).

Maybe Danny wasn't paying attention to his paperwork, had been stamping documents with his Royal Seal without really reading it, and Clockwork slipped in an Undead Appeal form in Danny's pile to teach him a lesson. The Appeal is for one Jason Todd-Wayne, located in a small plot in Gotham City.

So, Danny does what any person trying to undo a really bad mistake does. He says, "Don't worry about it, I'm taking care of it!" Except it's literally a human being he reanimated after being dead for several months. He's utterly terrified he's created the first of an unstoppable zombie plague or he's going to Ghost Jail for unknowingly violating the Geneva Convention of the Ghost Zone. Either way, Danny knows he has to handle this himself.

And there's Jason, leaning against a wolf-sized Cujo, at the foot of his grave. He looks... lost. Exhausted, alone. And Danny's like, oh, Hells, I did that. That's my fault. Cujo snuffles worriedly against Jason's face.

"Jason? Jason Todd?" Danny calls out. He wonders belatedly if he should've worn his High King of Infinite Realms attire, but he's still in Tucker's ratty Amity-Uni sweater and ripped jeans. Jason looks up at him from where he's now slouched against Cujo, slowly inching his way closer to the ground.

"I-my name's Danny. I'm-"

"Hospital," Jason rasps, nearly fully on the ground now. And oh, yeah, being freshly undead probably isn't as easy as switching between human and Ghost. Hells, what was he thinking? So, Danny finds himself in the Gotham Hospital waiting room as Jason's being treated and he's sitting there thinking about how to reintroduce himself. He can't be a stuttering, unsure mess when he's admitting to a grave error. Would Jason even believe him? Probably not, right?

That's how Jason Todd wakes up to the High King of Infinite Realms, Space, and the Dead next to his beside.

Danny admits his mistake, apologizes, and offers a Royal Boon in the form of an unbreakable vow. Anything his zombie needs or wants, the High King will provide. He probably should've expected it when Jason immediately says he wants to murder the Joker, brutally, painfully. Personally.

It's surprisingly easy to sign a Death Warrant.

(Later, after the Joker's prolonged and agonizing death is reported by the Gotham News, Jason asks Danny for money. Danny's like?? I already helped you avenge your murder?? And Jason just guilt-trips the ever-loving shit out of him. You brought me back from the dead a penniless and homeless zombie, you even said you'd provide for me, but now you're takin' it back?? Are you a fuckin' liar?? Danny's like, no, you're right, I'm so, so, so sorry, here's like 20k in Ancient Gold. Cue side-story of Danny unintentionally becoming Jason "Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss" Todd's sugar daddy.)

[emoisthenewemu]

Homie Hopper!

College MHA boys x f! reader!

In which after getting your little heart broken, you get passed around your local University’s hottest friend group! Everyone needs those slutty College years!

Smut Series! Pt 2 here

A/N: I would just like to make it clear that I do not condone some of the behaviors in this series! It is a bit problematic, but it is all just for funsies! Solely for entertainment purposes so just keep that in mind. Also i love sero can you tell. Anyways, enjoy!

Cw: SMUTTT!, lots of different kinks n stuff, sub! Denki, name calling, p in v, reader has female anatomy, reader essentially gets passed around

Katsuki Bakugo as The Shit Talker!

- Katsuki Bakugo is the one who started it all, your hot neighbor who threw parties your ex boyfriend never let you go to. Bakugo always gave you shit for it, saying you were ‘too young and pretty to be tied down’.

- As fucked up as it sounds, he gets excited one day when he spots you getting home super late one night in an oversized hoodie with mascara stained cheeks. And he considers just marching right across the hall when he notices you took all the posts and highlights of that fucker down on your insta.

- He’s even more excited when you finally show up to one of his parties. That is until you get wasted way too fast because you haven’t been out in years and end up crying over your shitty ex boyfriend.

- Katsuki Bakugo, who lets you make it up to him the next day by using you like a toy.

- Bakugo, who says the nastiest things when he’s deep inside of you.

“All my friends wanna fuck you, you know? But I get to go first”

“Can’t believe you were hiding this slutty pussy from us this long”

“Always knew you were a fucking slut”

“Your loser boyfriend ever fuck you like this?”

“Stop mph! fucking running from it!”

-He has your face pressed into the mattress, a hand on your head and one of his feet planted flat on the cushion. You’re drooling due to the way he drills into you, fucking you like he hates you.

- You guess you should have expected him to be so rough. Tough exterior and all but this is so much more than you could have ever imagined. He does not even give you a second to breathe, constantly snatching every bit of air from your lungs with each powerful thrust.

-His headboard bangs against the wall obnoxiously, he warns you not to hide your pretty little noises either or else says he’ll fuck them out of you. He even tells you to shut the fuck up when you whine about your neighbors-or Kiri.

-Katsuki Bakugo who has you in a headlock when you finally cum, back pressed tightly against his front as he thrusts up into you. His free hand pinching and rubbing your clit furiously. “Cum f'me pretty, then I can fill you up till it's coming out yer fucking mouth". His words are enough to make you gush around him, tight pussy squeezing him like a vice. But he’s not done talking shit yet, of course not.

"Better not waste a fuckin' drop. Maybe Kiri'll wanna fuck it back into you. He’s into nasty shit like that"

- Your cry out at his words, his finger remains at your clit but now rubbing at a much slower pace which ensures you let out small whines every few seconds. Still fucking into you so brutally your body begins to tremble. "You like that? Dirty fucking girl, want us to share this sloppy pussy?"

"Mm yes! P-please! Won't tell anyone" You nod frantically, a part of you so fucked out you are unaware of what you're saying. This is so unlike you, truly.

Bakugo's dick made you go dumb, fucking stupid actually. It sets the catalyst for a series of the most unhinged decisions of your life.

-It feels like little explosions eat up his entire body as his seed finally shoots inside you, there's so much it has already begun to leak out. "No, no, no! Keep it in there!" He slaps your ass and lets you finally fall back down into the mattress.

You're a crying mess, you don't even notice it. But he does, of course. Grabbing your (face) cheeks and squeezing with one hand. "Aw pretty girl, you cryin already?"

- Katsuki Bakugo, who is being a complete hypocrite, he's fucked out already too, fucking himself into overstimulation currently as he fucks his own cum back into you. "Such a crybaby. M'not even done with you yet"

Ejirou Kirishima as The Big Boy!

-Ejirou Kirishima-Katsuki’s roomate who invites you over to his parents house (who are out of town) so the two of you can ‘workout’ in their home gym. One month after what took place with his best friend.

-You can’t help but remember the blonde’s words, something about the red-haired man fucking his cum back into you. He wouldn’t, would he?

-He’s such a sweetheart! He opens and closes the car door for you, makes you a protein shake with his own recipe! Even brings you a little snack and tells you how pretty you look in your gym set! The man has even offered to take you and your roomate’s trash out before because ‘ladies shouldn’t be walking around by themselves at night’. He’s just such a gentleman, you can’t imagine him doing anything nasty in his life.

-Ejirou Kirishima who works out for all of about twelve minutes before lifting you up against the wall and gives you the most passionate and sensual make out session you have ever experienced.

-He moans against your lips sweetly, going down to kiss every inch of skin within reach.

-Ejirou Kirishima-who has the biggest, fattest cock you have ever seen in your life. It almost scares you because how the hell is that going to fit?!

He notices your worries, softly smooching the corner of your lips. “You can do it pretty girl, I know you can” His hand gropes your ass, a harsh contradiction to his sweet voice. “Bakugo says you’re a good girl, huh?”

-He manages to bully his fat member inside of you. The stretch is delicious yet painful. You squeal as he sinks deeper, nails digging into his bare shoulder.

“Shit baby you’re so tight for me” The man exhales loudly, hot breath hitting your bare skin. “Wanna hear you scream”

-Ejirou Kirishima, whose wish is answered when he finally picks up the pace. The ease in which he fucks you, holding your weight up entirely only adds to the experience.

-He’s just so strong and big. It makes your ankles cross and eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s so proud of it too-as he should be. He works very hard to maintain such a physique, he does it not only for himself but for pretty girls like you.

It’s obviously working, whimpers and whines escape your lips. Mouth stuck in a constant ’o’ shape and eyebrows furrowed. “S-so big! Fuck!” You cry, giving your very best attempt to bounce back on him. But it’s hard, almost every signal in your body is telling you to push away. It’s too much, the pain of his fat tip smushing against your walls. Yet another part deep within had you convinced that you can take it.

-You open your eyes to catch a glimpse of the sinful sight through the wall length mirror. His frame is so large you are hardly able to make yourself out, whole body covering yours. His back muscles on full display, you watch them move under his skin. The back of his bulging biceps accompanied by little grunts. “So strong Kiri ohmygodd! So good so good, so big!”

-“You like when i use you like a little dolly?” You nod, unable to speak even if you tried. “Love this big dick, huh?”

“Yes! Yes!” You are screaming at this point, in a way you have never done before. You had no idea this amount of pleasure was even possible. You should have been single a looong time ago. “Love it s’much!”

-“Cum on this dick gorgeous! Make a mess please!” He’s so cute, he still says please.

And you’re such a good girl that you just have to do what you’re told-juices gushing all over his abs and dripping down his thighs.

-Ejirou Kirishima who kisses the ache in your thighs before fucking you again in the hot tub. And then in his childhood bedroom.

Hanta Sero as The One Who Talks You Through It!

- Hanta Sero, who somehow becomes your smoking buddy after being paired up with you on a project. He was so funny and cute and you just had to get his snapchat!

-Hanta Sero, who knows his friends had already fucked you but doesn’t really care who came first or second. He just wants you…..bad.

- After a couple smoke sessions he decides to just go for it, glossy red eyes taking in your entire figure as he moves closer. Grabbing your chin and kissing you skillfully, tongue rolling against yours.

- Hanta Sero, who has you in his lap, chin resting on your shoulder with your legs spread wiiide. His legs trap you on either side so you are unable to move and squirm away the way your body tells you to. You have no choice but to take his long digits that are furiously fingering your cunt.

You’re a moaning mess, head thrown back against his chest as he coos in your ear, talking your head (more like pussy!) off. “Ahhh does it feel good mamas?”

Brushing a piece of hair out of your face he continues, strong thighs still keeping yours in place. “Such a pretty little princess pussy”

- Most moments you have no idea what he is even saying, every single one of his words goes straight down there. “So messy” His hand places a firm, wet smack! against your soaked core. “Hear how wet you are for me?” He continues to finger you, picking up the pace with an almost obnoxious squelching noise that accompanies his every move.

The vibrations of his movements shoot up your body, his fingers feel robotic with the way they do not falter. And then he starts curling them to brush against that sweet spot.

It’s not much longer after when you squirt all over his fingers and sheets with a loud cry. And he is sure to maintain eye contact when he brings his hand up to lick clean of all your juices, muttering something about how sweet you taste.

- Hanta Sero, who has you on your back a minute later-one hand on the headboard and the other keeps him steady as he pounds into you, lazy red eyes stuck on all of the faces you make. The way your titties bounce with his thrusts. You’re driving him crazy.

-“Fuck, Fuck princesa. You feel how deep I am?” You only nod, his long curved dick takes the words out of your mouth. “M’in your fuckin’ guts”

-He brings his body down to get closer to you, arms hooking beneath your shoulders to bring you closer to him. One of his hands pushes your head down to force you to watch his sloppy thrusts with the way he slams! you down on his cock.

-Hanta Sero who gets excited when you finally have the energy and brain capacity to talk, telling him all about how good he is. “So deep Hanta….can feel you in my tummy” You pout and it makes his dick twitch. You’re too fucking cute.

He almost regrets putting a condom on, he wishes he could feel the real thing. Make no mistake though, he is enjoying himself to the point where his toes begin to curl as he blabbers nonsense. “Taking it so good for me baby, such a good princess”

-His dick is firmly pressed against the spot you need it the most. You are unable to stop the squeals and whimpers coming from deep within, sloppily rocking your hips against him. He takes notice of this, locking his hips to continue to rub against the spongy walls that make you cry out like this. “Let it out mamas, wanna see you cum again”

- You don’t need much encouragement to coax the orgasm out of you-one that is mind-melting and makes your insides feel fuzzy. “Mm Hanta! Cumming f’you baby”

- Hanta Sero, who moans so loudly when he feels your walls spasming around him. He has to grab onto your hair for comfort-you’re practically choking his dick.

- Hanta Sero, who leans in close to whisper in your ear as you flutter around him. “Just like that baby” He kisses your cheek, a sweet gesture which is quite opposite to the mean snap of his hips. “Come on, come on give me more”.

- He’s practically snatching your soul out of your body, your mouth agape and wide as your body trembles, listening to his words. “Just a lil bit more mama, I know you can do it”

“C-cant!” You squeal but your legs betray you, locking themselves around his hips, he couldn’t move much even if he wanted to. So he uses the opportunity to do slow, exaggerated thrusts into you.

Tears prick your eyes as you do nothing but take it and whine. Hanta keeps on talking though. “Shhh it’s okay mamas….I know you can take it” And then he squishes your cute little face in his hand. “Right? You gonna take more f’me?”

-“Y-yeah”

- Hanta Sero, who is such a blabbermouth that you should not be surprised to find out how talkative he is during sex. Who continues to let you know you are welcome over any time and sends you the filthiest text messages. Ones you respond to with cute little emojis letting him know you’ll be on the way.

Denki Kaminari as ‘The Munch!’

- Denki Kaminari, who feels left out as he is the only one in the friend group who hasn’t fucked you! The other guys have nothing but good things to say about you and even still consider you to be a friend! So why can’t he have a taste? He’s the one who pointed you out to them in the first place!

- Denki Kaminari, who finds himself sitting next to you one night at a end of year party. The two of you being DD’s for the night, which means you are the only sober ones. And you talk for hours, seeing as you’ve known each other since freshman year and have remained relatively close since then. Which means he’s not afraid to ask.

“So what’s wrong with me?”

“Huh?”

“You fucked all my friends and not me? I’m hurt!” He sounds genuine, a hand placing itself atop his chest in offense. “Is it something I did?”

“Shut up!” You grumble, taking a hit off of his puff. “And no! Of course not!” You chuckle, blowing out the smoke directly in his face. “Just didn’t know you even thought of me that way”

- Denki Kaminari, who scoffs at your words. And here he was thinking it was obvious. Even back when you had a boyfriend he would always tell you that he could treat you better but you always thought he was joking! He was a jokester, that was like his thing!

- Denki Kaminari, who is deadly serious when he leans in closer to ensure you hear his every word perfectly.

“M’not hotheaded and ripped like Bakugo. Or big and strong like Kirishima. Or as tall as Sero or nearly as charming”

“You think Sero’s charming?” You laugh.

“Dude’s got game” Denki loves the way you giggle. “But I got something none of those fuckers do”

“Mm?” You raise an eyebrow curiously, a sweet smile on your face as you lean in closer. Lips mere inches away from him. “What’s that?”

“Promise my tongue is better than any of those assholes. Can make you see stars using just my mouth” He speaks so smugly, so confident.

It’s the most attractive he’s ever looked.

- You take him up on his offer, letting him lead you to an empty room upstairs where he doesn’t even wait for the door to click before smashing his lips against yours. Hungry hands grab at your waist and ass, then your tits and hair.

-Denki Kaminari, who keeps true to his word and has you seeing stars in a matter of minutes. Whose hands are holding yours as his face is nuzzled into your heat, breathing in your scent as his tongue works its magic Whose dick twitches every time you squeeze his hands and every time you try to let go he grabs it back, interlocking your fingers with his.

- His tongue swirls circles around your clit, causing your hips to bump up against his face-which makes him moan into your folds. Pulling apart for a second to admire the glossy mess before diving right back in

-Denki Kaminari, who is almost pathetic with the way he slurps you up like he is starving for your pussy. Constantly moaning into it as if he is getting any kind of relief out of it. Oh but he is, he could stay between your thighs for hours.

Whose skilled tongue somehow knows all the right places, eventually he has you rocking against his face as the only thing audible besides your loud desperate moans are the even more desperate slurps coming from him.

- He fucks you with his tongue until he is so deep that it makes him gag. But he does not stop, not even when his dick begins to ache from how hard it is. He fucks you with bis tongue until it hurts and you are a shaking mess, having finished three times already. No fingers involved.

-Denki Kaminari, who somehow convinces you to ride him into oblivion afterwards, shaky legs and all.

- His whines are so pathetic and hot that it unlocks something deep within you. A feeling you had never experienced before. Causing you to go rough on him, pulling his hair and whining when he begs you to do it harder! You aren’t sure who’s moaning more between the two of you.

- Denki Kaminari, who has shivers go up his spine whenever you dig your nails into his biceps, hips bouncing up and down as if your life depends on it. “Please scratch me up baby! Feels s’good”

- You even choke him a bit which is a thing you had never done before but just felt so right in the moment. The way he moans confirms that he enjoys it just as much as you did.

- When he cums, he cums hard, thick ropes spurting out into the condom as he moans freely. His hips rock up into you for more stimulation as he rides out his high.

“Oh shittt didn’t know you were such a freak Y/N!” Denji jokes, poking you in the side and you giggle.

He moans at the way you clench around him when you laugh. It makes him want to make you laugh more.

- Denki Kaminari, who showed you just how much you enjoy whiny subby men!

- And even to this day the whole friend group does a double take when you walk by, always offering to do stuff for you or hold open doors. (Except Bakugo of course). But they all make it more than obvious you are welcome into their beds anytime.

[dollfacefantasy]

dark and mean Rick X whiny reader, s5 beard era??? (Ugh loveee😩) maybe reader annoyed him so he fucks her attitude away<3

NO BACK TALK ♡

pairing: rick grimes x bratty!fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), p in v, brat taming, age gap (20s, late 30s), daddy kink

a/n: brat tamer rick you know that's my shit 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thank you for the request <33

"What was it? What were you saying back there?" Rick's raspy voice huffs against your ear.

A shiver goes down your spine as his hot breath lands on your skin. Sharp contrast to the cool night air all around. Your body is already shaky enough from his hips' brutal thrusts against your ass.

He has you pinned against the back wall of the church, split open on his cock. This spot is close enough to the safety of the group while providing the privacy he needs to have his way with you. Your cheek squishes against the wood, a small stream of drool trickling South on your chin.

"N-nothing," you whimper, "Was just trying to tell you- ah! Just wanted to tell you..."

Your voice trails off as the sentiment of your point becomes less important than the bliss Rick's length is battering into you. Soft moans drift from your lips as your mouth hangs open. He tuts and shakes his head, pressing more of his weight into you and rutting against your backside with more force.

"You're still tryin' to talk back?" he asks, "Still think you had a reason to give me all that attitude?"

"I said I was sorry," you whine, bottom lip jutting out on instinct.

This is the game you play with Rick. You're sure by now everyone else is sick of being unwilling bystanders to it, but you can never get enough. Ever since you met the older man, the two of you mixed together like a stray match in a keg of gunpowder.

He tries his hardest to lead this group. You know that's true. But life fucking sucks in the apocalypse. It's not your fault if you get a little fed up with things sometimes.

You take it out on him cause it's easy. You disagree with his plans without coming up with any of your own. You complain about assignments you're given. You whine about the lack of supplies and direction. You roll your eyes and sigh during minor disagreements while nearly throwing a fit for larger ones.

For the first six months he knew you, it drove him fucking crazy. He went to sleep at night dreading waking up because he knew he'd have to deal with you the next day. At one point, he was convinced that he'd die of high blood pressure before any walker got the chance to kill him.

But then he figured out the secret to dealing with you. It wasn't too long before the prison fell that he learned this little trick. The two of you were the only ones awake, and you had another huge fight about some inconsequential bullshit. He was supremely frustrated. You weren't showing any signs of conceding that you were being ridiculous either.

It's like a blur in his memory now, the way he pinned you against the hard brick wall. He tore open the tiny shorts you had on. And that was when he learned. Your pretty little pussy was like your control center. He just had to hit the right buttons to bring you back to normal.

Now when you act up, he gives you the chance to fix it. You'll say something in that pitchy tone of voice and pout at him, and he'll raise a brow. He'll ask you to repeat yourself. If you continue the challenge, he still tries to be civil and talk you down. But once you push too far, you end up with a firm hand wrapped around your wrist, dragging you away from the rest of the group.

That's what happened tonight.

He scoffs at your assertion that you'd apologized. "You said sorry when you realized you were in trouble," he grumbles.

His fingers dig into your waist, feeling the soft skin left exposed by your t-shirt that's riding up. Your toes curl inside your sneakers while your fingernails scrape against the chipping paint of the church's paneling.

"I still meant it," you insist.

"If you're so sorry, tell me why I have to teach you this same fuckin' lesson over and over again," he growls.

"I dunno... cause you didn't do it good enough the first time?" you offer.

He gives your hip a smack for that and shoves you harder against the wall with a forearm across your back. You can feel the cool silver of his watch on your shoulder blade. Your tits are just as smooshed as your cheek is now. You whine in response, your feet floundering against the dirt below, but he keeps fucking into you hard.

"Cute. Keep talking back like that and see where it gets you," he says.

"I was just joking, daddy," you respond with a little sniffle for maximum impact.

"Oh, I'm daddy now?" he mocks. Neither of your attempts at sympathy seem to have struck a chord. "I'm daddy when you want me to be nice to you, but not any other time. Do I have that right?"

"Nuh uh..."

"Yeah. You won't listen to me. Won't do anything I ask without givin' me hell. But the second you get tired of taking it like a big girl, I'm your daddy," he taunts.

You squeak as he yanks your hips against his pelvis particularly hard. His tip rams right into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your knees start to buckle beneath you.

He watches as you really begin to slip. With a sigh, he pulls his cock out of your dripping hole. You whine about that too, of course, but you don't have time to complain before he flips you around and hooks his hands behind your knees. He folds you in half against the wall and slides right back into the slick heat of your cunt. His hips rock against you like they never stopped.

"Look at you. You think you have any right to question me when you can't even stand up on your own? When y'need daddy to do everything for you," he mutters.

You mewl and arch your back, but he keeps you exactly where he wants you. His shaft slams into you over and over, chasing the feeling of your walls clamping down on it. You can't fight back against what he's saying cause any semblance of cohesive argument has been fucked right out of you.

"Did-didn't mean it," you choke out.

"Then say sorry like you mean it," he breathes.

He pumps into you harder and deeper, making it difficult for you to answer. But you try your best because you're getting close, and after you cum, it'll be damn near impossible.

"I- I'm sorry, daddy. Didn't mean to make you mad. I'll try to be good and listen," you say before a whine cracks your voice and causes your head to drop forward.

He nudges your face up with his nose before rewarding you with a kiss. "That's my girl," he mumbles, "Gonna listen for me. Accept that you don't know what's best, hm? That you need me to take care of you and make the decisions?"

You nod with your quivering lip and glossy eyes.

That gets a little smirk on his lips, and he kisses your pout once more. His hand snakes around to thumb at your clit. The rapid fire swipes are all you need to topple over the edge and let go. You tense up and cover your own mouth, muffling your cries with your palm.

"There you go. Let it out," he grunts.

He grits his teeth, holding on long enough to fuck you through your high. As soon as you start to come down though, he pulls out and spills his seed onto the dirt beneath you.

His body shudders against yours, another set of harsh breaths blowing against your neck. You lean your head against his. The sweat that dampens his scalp smears on your cheek.

The both of you hold the position for a few moments longer before beginning to untangle. He sets you back on the ground, keeping his hands on your waist until he's sure you're stable. You pull your discarded shorts back on and adjust your shirt while he zips himself up.

When you're put together again, he grabs your wrist like he'd done earlier but with a more gentle touch. He pulls you flush against his body and encircles you with his arms, keeping you pressed to his chest. His hand rubs up and down your back in soothing strokes.

"My baby. All tuckered out and settled down for me now, yeah?" he whispers.

You nod, your eyes already feeling droopy with the calm that comes after release. His embrace is so warm it lulls you further into this docile, dreamy state.

Rick rolls his eyes again, but there's not as much irritation this time. A good fuck mellows him out just like it does you. Plus, in moments like these, he can admit to himself that he has a small soft spot for his little brat.

He sways back and forth with you for a few moments, planting occasional kisses on the top of your head.

"You gonna behave when we go back inside?" he murmurs.

"Yeah," you answer softly.

"That's my girl," he says, patting your ass before turning you loose. He lets you walk back around to the entrance first. While he has a great time putting you back in line, these trysts aren't really something he wants the whole group being hyper aware of. It's after a few minutes have gone by that he heads in himself, ready to mix back in with everyone else as if nothing had happened.

[alohajix]

𝐍𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬… 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

Description: it was supposed to be one night—just sex, no feelings, no consequences. But the second Harry touched me, I knew I was lying. He’s my brother’s best friend. Off-limits. Dangerous. But he fucks me like he owns me, whispers things I’m not supposed to hear, and looks at me like I’m already his.

We said no strings. But we’re tangled in every way that matters.

Warnings: explicit sex, unprotected sex, brother’s best friend, possessiveness, praise, jealousy, choking, roughness, creampie, soft dom!Harry, emotional tension, and getting very caught. Readers +18.

Words: TBD.

*****

PART ONE – Just This Once.

Description: after a brutal breakup, I turn to the one person I shouldn’t: my brother’s best friend. It was supposed to be one night—no strings, no feelings. But the way Harry touches me? There’s no coming back from that.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex (don’t do that), praise, roughness, possessive soft dom!Harry, creampie, tension, and denial.

Words: 10K.

*****

I didn’t plan on crying tonight. Didn’t plan on getting drunk, either. But here I was—curled up on the worn-down couch in my brother’s living room, wrapped in a hoodie that wasn’t mine, tears drying on my cheeks as the taste of vodka lingered on my tongue. And Harry Styles—my brother’s best friend, the one I probably shouldn’t have called—was sitting beside me, quiet, warm, and entirely too close.

“You want me to beat him up?” he asked, voice calm, eyes dark.

I huffed a laugh through my nose and wiped under my eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie. “You’d lose.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re sweet, Harry, but Alex is built like a linebacker.”

Harry smirked. “Doesn’t mean he deserves to keep all his teeth.”

I shot him a look, but he just raised his brows like he was dead serious, and the tiniest bubble of warmth settled in my chest. I wasn’t used to that. Not lately.

“You didn’t have to come,” I murmured. “I was just… emotional.”

“You called me crying. Of course I had to come.” He tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning my face. “He cheated on you, yeah?” I nodded once, jaw tightening. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Just heavy. Safe. He handed me the water bottle he’d brought and I sipped it reluctantly, not because I didn’t want it, but because I didn’t want to cry again. Or worse—do something reckless.

“Your brother home?” he asked casually, glancing down the hallway.

“Nope. Work trip. Won’t be back till Sunday.”

He nodded. “That’s why you called me.”

“You’re his best friend. You always pick up.”

Harry’s gaze lingered a little too long. “You really think that’s the only reason I show up?”

My heart stuttered. I blinked, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was. How his thigh was brushing mine. How good he smelled—soap and something warm beneath it. He had no right to smell that good.

“I think you’re just decent,” I said quietly. “Rare breed.”

He chuckled, low and rough. “That’s not the word people usually use.”

“No?”

“Dangerous. That’s more like it.”

His voice dropped at the end, and my breath hitched. For a second, neither of us moved. The silence stretched, thinned, then snapped when I turned my head—too fast, too close. My nose grazed his. Barely. But it was enough. I don’t know who kissed who first. I just know I was kissing him.

His lips were soft at first. Careful. But when I pressed harder, he groaned. Deep. Guttural. One hand found my waist, and the other cupped my jaw, fingers spreading across my cheek as he kissed me like he’d been waiting for this—like he knew it was wrong, but didn’t give a fuck.

I broke the kiss with a shaky breath. “This is stupid.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice strained. “Tell me to stop.”

I should have. I didn’t. Instead, I whispered, “Bedroom’s that way.”

He stared at me for one long second. Then he stood, held out his hand, and I took it. The moment the door clicked shut, everything changed.

Harry didn’t waste time. He pinned me gently against the wall, lips dragging along my neck, hands under the hoodie. “You sure about this?”

“Not at all,” I breathed. “But I want it.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

He kissed me again—messy, possessive, hot. His hand slipped under my panties like he already knew I was dripping. And fuck, I was.

He groaned. “So fuckin’ wet. That for me, sweetheart?”

I nodded, breathless. “All for you.”

He dropped to his knees like a man starved and pulled my panties down slowly, watching the way I trembled. “Gonna make you forget his name.”

“Already have.”

His tongue was hot and greedy, lips wrapped around my clit as two fingers slid inside me with expert precision. I cried out, fingers gripping his curls, legs trembling. I came fast—too fast. It was embarrassing. But he didn’t stop. Didn’t stop until I was panting, shaking, begging.

When he finally stood, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking. “Told you I’d take care of you.” And then he undid his jeans. Holy. Fuck.

I gasped. “Harry…”

“Want you to see what you’re taking, baby.” He gripped the base of his cock, thick and hard. “You think you can handle it?” I nodded. Too quickly. Too needy. “Then get on the bed.”

I climbed onto the bed like I was in a trance, heart pounding so loud it muffled everything else. The room felt hotter. Smaller. Every nerve in my body lit up when the mattress dipped behind me and Harry’s hands came down to grip my thighs, spreading them apart like he owned them.

“Lie back,” he murmured, his voice low, coaxing. “Wanna see you laid out for me.”

I did as he said, bare beneath his hoodie, flushed and dripping and aching for him. He leaned over me, kissing my neck, dragging his lips down to my collarbone, then lower, until he was pressing kisses just beneath the hem of the hoodie that still clung to my body.

“You look so good in my clothes,” he whispered, dragging his knuckles across my hip. “But I wanna see all of you.”

I started to pull it off, but he stopped me.

“No. I’ll do it.” Slow. He was going slow on purpose.

He peeled the hoodie up inch by inch, eyes dark with hunger, dragging it over my head and tossing it somewhere behind him. His gaze swept over my bare chest, then lower. I saw something shift in him. Something darker.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You’re fucking perfect.”

He leaned down to suck a nipple into his mouth, and I gasped—back arching into him, thighs clenching around his waist. He pinned them down again, using his hips, then pulled back just enough to meet my eyes.

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

My breath caught. “Yes.”

“Need to hear it.”

“I want you to fuck me, Harry. Please.”

His mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile—but the tension in his jaw told me he was barely holding back.

He lined himself up, teasing my entrance with the head of his cock, and murmured, “Not gonna be gentle.”

“I don’t want gentle.” And with that, he pushed inside.

I gasped—legs spreading wider, fingers fisting the sheets. He filled me slowly, letting me feel all of it, dragging it out until I was whimpering.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight,” he groaned. “Grippin’ me like you’ve been waiting for this.”

“Maybe I have.”

That broke him. He started thrusting harder, rougher, one hand gripping my hip while the other pressed against the mattress beside my head. His mouth hovered near my ear, voice ragged. “You gonna let me ruin you a little? Hmm?”

I nodded frantically. “Yes—fuck, yes, Harry.”

He pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in, making me cry out.

“I’m not gonna stop until you forget every other man that’s ever touched you,” he said through clenched teeth. “Especially him.”

His jealousy was thick in the air—but it didn’t scare me. It turned me on. Made me crave more.

I dragged my nails down his back and whispered, “Then fuck me like I’m yours.”

That did it. He flipped me onto my stomach, pulled my hips up, and slammed back in. The sound of skin on skin echoed in the room. I was moaning uncontrollably, gripping the sheets, face pressed into the mattress as he drove into me over and over, deeper, rougher, filthier.

“You like that?” he growled, fingers digging into my hips. “You like bein’ fucked like this?”

“Yes—yes—fuck, don’t stop—”

“Say my name.”

“Harry.”

“Again.”

“Harry—fuck—Harry—”

“Good girl.”

He reached under and rubbed my clit in tight circles, and my whole body shuddered. I was close. So fucking close.

“Come for me,” he growled in my ear. “Come all over my cock, baby.”

I broke. My orgasm hit like a wave, stealing my breath, arching my back, making my legs shake. He followed right after with a groan so deep it vibrated through me—spilling inside me, hips stuttering, hands still gripping me like I might vanish. We collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and sweat and heavy breathing. For a long time, neither of us said anything.

Until he whispered, “We shouldn’t have done that.”

I turned my head, met his eyes, and whispered, “I know.” But neither of us moved. Because deep down, we both knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

I woke to the sound of rain tapping against the window and the soft weight of an arm draped across my waist. My eyes blinked open slowly. The air smelled like sex and skin and laundry detergent. My body ached in places I didn’t know could ache, in the best way. I could still feel him—between my thighs, in the marks on my hips, in the way my heartbeat picked up when I remembered everything he’d said to me the night before.

Fuck. Harry. He was still here. I felt him shift behind me, his arm tightening like he already knew I was awake. His bare chest was warm against my back, his hand flexing slowly on my stomach like he wasn’t ready to let go. Neither was I. But reality crept in, cold and sharp, like the edge of the pillow beneath my cheek.

I cleared my throat. “So… that happened.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just breathed in deep, slow. Then, “Yeah. It did.”

I turned slightly, just enough to glance over my shoulder. He was watching me, eyes softer in the morning light, curls messy, stubble brushing his jaw. Too handsome. Too tempting.

“We should talk,” I said carefully.

“Sure.” He pushed himself up onto one elbow, the sheets slipping down to his hips. “You regret it?”

I shook my head. “No. Do you?”

“No.” His gaze held mine, intense. “But I need to know what this is. What you want.”

I hesitated. Because I didn’t know how to say I want more of last night, over and over, until I forget how it feels to be hurt by someone else. Didn’t know how to say I think I’ve always wanted you, but I was too scared to admit it.

So instead, I said, “It was a rebound, right? One-time thing?”

His eyes flicked down, just for a second. “If that’s what you want.”

My chest squeezed. “What do you want?”

“I want…” He trailed off, then smiled faintly. “To keep doing that. Maybe not just once. But I know it’s complicated. You’re—”

“My brother’s little sister,” I finished for him.

Harry shrugged. “And I don’t want to fuck that up.”

“Then maybe we don’t tell him.”

He raised a brow. “You suggesting a secret thing?”

“Something simple,” I said, forcing a casual tone. “No strings. Just… physical.”

His eyes searched mine. “You sure you can do that?”

“Can you?”

He smirked—soft, crooked. “I can try.”

We lay in silence for a few seconds, the rain still tapping at the glass, our bodies warm under the covers. I should have gotten up. Showered. Gotten dressed. But I didn’t move. Neither did he.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “No strings.” But the way he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and kissed my shoulder like I meant something to him said otherwise.

A few days later, he was at the door, hoodie in hand, one foot halfway over the threshold. I stood a few feet back, arms crossed over my chest like it could protect me from what we’d just done. From what I wanted to do again.

“This was a bad idea,” I said, mostly to myself.

“Probably,” Harry muttered, glancing over his shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “We said it was one time.”

“We say a lot of shit.”

He turned fully now, hoodie crumpled in his fist, jaw tense, like he was trying not to look at me—but failing. His eyes dropped. To my bare legs. The curve of my hip. The faint red marks he’d left hours ago. I should’ve said goodbye. Should’ve closed the door behind him and ended it.

But instead, I asked, “You leaving because you want to, or because you think you should?”

He stared at me for a beat. Then tossed the hoodie on the floor. And crossed the room in three long strides. His hands were on my face before I could speak, lips crashing into mine—hot, hungry, urgent. He walked me backward until my knees hit the couch, and he pushed me down gently, climbing over me, covering my body with his.

“This doesn’t change anything,” I whispered as he kissed down my throat.

“Not yet,” he said, voice dark. “But it will.”

His mouth was everywhere—neck, collarbone, chest. His fingers slid between my legs, already finding me wet.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re soaked. You want it again, don’t you?” I nodded. Breathless. Desperate. “Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me again.”

He didn’t hesitate. Pulled his jeans down just enough. Pushed my legs apart like he couldn’t wait another second. No foreplay this time. Just raw, hungry need. He slammed into me in one hard thrust, and I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Thought about this all fuckin’ day,” he gritted, pounding into me. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how tight you are. How you sounded when you came on my cock.”

“Harry—”

“You said it was one time.” He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head, holding me down, fucking me even deeper. “But you’re letting me do it again. You’re letting me use you like this.” I moaned, head thrown back, back arching. “You love it, don’t you? Being used.”

“Yes—fuck, yes—”

He bit my shoulder. “Gonna come for me again, baby?”

“I can’t—Harry—I—”

“You will.”

His free hand moved between us, rubbing tight, fast circles on my clit while he drove into me harder, faster. I was unraveling, falling apart, clenching around him. I came with a sob, legs shaking, mouth open in a silent cry. He fucked me through it, not stopping until he was right there with me, groaning into my neck as he spilled deep inside me for the second time that day.

Neither of us moved for a while. Just panting, tangled, sticky and ruined on the couch. Eventually, he pulled back, still hovering over me, eyes searching.

Then he leaned in, brushed his lips over my ear, and whispered—

“You can pretend it’s nothing. I won’t.” And just like that, I knew we were already in too deep.

[starkeyisthelastname]

inspired by this video from my babe @rafesthroatbaby 💦 some drunk sex with Drew 👅

You knew you were in for some rough sex tonight by the way he had shoved you into the car. You were both drunk, having celebrated another premiere of Queer. It was clear he couldn’t wait to get you back to the hotel room and with the dirty promises he was whispering in your ear, you couldn’t wait either. It wasn’t long before he had you nearly folded in half, his thick cock making your pussy cream the harder he fucked you.

“Goddamn it, you’re making a fuckin’ mess.” His deep voice a little strained as he stared down at you with those hooded ocean eyes. His balls twitched at the sounds you were making as he slammed into your slick cunt at a brutal pace. You looked beautiful, taking every inch of him while he roughly fucked you in his drunken state.

The alcohol in your system made everything feel so much more intense, and you were embarrassed at how close you were to an orgasm. Knowing Drew though, it would be your first of many for the night. His thumb rubbed your aching pearl in circles, which only caused your pussy to start clenching around his huge cock. “D-Drew… I’m cumming…” You cried out, watching as your pussy splashed along his toned stomach while he continued to pound you out.

He nearly let out a low growl, his strong body flipping you over where he grabbed your hips to pull you back. “Don’t start fucking running either.” He mumbled, sliding into you with one go to make you let out a loud whimper. One hand let go to yank your head back so that he could meet your eyes. He gripped your jaw possessively, blue irises staring down at you. He almost laughed at the sounds of your wet hole taking over your whines as he slowly fucked you, letting you feel all of him. After all he was all yours to have.

“Yeah.. that’s it. Take that fucking dick up your sweet pussy.” Drew groaned as your hole leaked around him and your pretty eyes began to roll back from pleasure. “Keep cumming all over daddy’s dick. Not even close to being done with these holes yet.” His words a little slurred but voice just as sexy.

[cyber333angel]

HATE SEX WITH RAFE !

you and rafe had been arguing for about three days now, huffing and puffing whenever you saw each other and slamming doors around the house. however today, you really wanted to piss him off and get back at him. it was around 8 pm where you were putting the finishing touches to your pretty little outfit, layering your jewelry and picking out what delicious scent you would smell like tonight.

you grabbed your purse and started to head down the stairs where rafe sat on the couch occupying himself with his phone. as he heard the click clacks of your heals he looked up from the screen, observing the way your tits bounced with every step and how the volume of your hair sprung up and down, overall how absolutely gorgeous you looked. a loud voice interrupts you as you reach the last step, “where the fuck are you going dressed like that?” unfazed by the hostility, you answer. “a party.” you give him a short response, purposely to tick him off and you see rafe spring up from his seat, walking towards you. “a party with who?” he says while nodding his head and biting his thumb. you look up at him annoyed. “with sarah and kie, why do you care anyway?” you break eye contact with him and you start walking to the entryway, almost at the door handle. mumbling under your breath quietly, “so annoying like..get out of the fucking way.“

you knew better than to talk to your boyfriend like that, realizing it when suddenly your throat and hand that was reaching for the door, are held in a tight grip from rafe. “don’t ever fix your mouth to say some shit like that to me again, you hear me?” startled by his sternness you decide to push him more, just to see how far he would go. “fuck you rafe, your not the boss of me.” rafe twists his head at you, since it seems like your not knowing who your talking to. “yeah, im not the boss of you?”

..your now on the bed, your coily hair held in rafes hand in a tight grip as he abuses your cunt. he bunched up the dress halfway up your spine, panties lost at the end of your ankle as your knees pressed into the bed. your ass ricocheted off his pelvis from the brutal pace, and your eyes went half lidded from the pain and pleasure. “got some fuckin nerve thinking you could talk to me like that.” he had been fucking you for what seemed like hours at this point, his cock buried in your pussy leaking out white liquid. “mmm daddy m’so-sorryy! won’t do it again i swear!” you beg, your soaked hole becoming sensitive at every harsh thrust he makes you take.

rafe ignores your pleads, letting it really sink in and make you think of the way you acted earlier. “nah but you weren’t sorry before when you wanted to go act like a slut at some fucking party.” he bends down close to your ear, pulling your hair to level your face with his. “huh sweetheart? what happened to all that fuckin talk? i thought i wasn’t the boss of you?” you could only answer with sobs and cry’s from how rough he was being. your wet skin smacking together, sweaty from how good he was making you feel. his cock dragging in and out of your cunt making your head spin, “hngh..slo-slow down rafey!” he grips the fat of your ass and relaxes his pace, fucking you slowly as he runs his hands through his hair straightening his back. he ponders, opening his mouth to ask you a question. “where’d you learn to speak to me like that hm? never spoke t’me like that before so what happened, you needed some dick?” he waits for your response, still rocking his hips back and forth slowly.

you shake your head, “d-didn’t want to argue with you anymore daddy.. im sorry nd ill be good now promise!” whining at him, rafe coos at you, knowing you only did this to end the useless bickering between the two of you. “t’aw s’okay baby i know your sorry, i know your a good girl. daddy doesn’t like to argue with you either alright?” you nod frantically, happy that your little squabble with your boyfriend was over. “go on and cum on this dick sweetheart, just like that..” he admires you from above, watching the way you squirm as you cream on his cock. rafe put in a last few thrusts and pulls out, cumming on your back where your dress was bunched up at the top. it was a shame though, you really did look good in that dress.

[mxstellatayte]

Hi! So I lobe what you have been posting and really want one with either max or mick?

One where they don't realises that they are covered in hickey or scratches?

And it gets called out by either the fans or the press/other drivers?

Please do nsfw either a flashback or one afterwards with a bit of revenge towards our dear reader

Thank yoz and keep up the amazing work 🫶🫶

hey there! i absolutely love all the detail you've given me to work with <3 also i straight up had a physical reaction to this because RAAAAAARGH this is. so hot. also this takes place before singapore 2024 :)

taglist: @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore @lucycowr @benstormy @anat33-blog1

@xoscar03 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @nenamalenaa @champagneproblems17 @marknolee

@toby33b @soloqualcosa @sassyinchident808 @slutmeoutsworld @itsgrlalmghty

join my taglist here!

it was the flash of papaya among a sea of navy blue that snapped max out of the zoned-out daze he'd been in for the past few minutes. lando.

thank christ.

he reaches out his hand, clasping the mclaren driver's own and bringing him in for a brief hug before stepping back. thankfully, there isn't any media around right now, or max might just flip a table. he's getting real sick of putting up a wall of friendliness when all he wanted to do was escape to his driver's room and mentally prepare for the upcoming qualifying session.

they make small talk for a few moments, talking about the track evolution throughout the day, the brutal heat and humidity, the added drs zone, lap times...

"you get up to anything last night, mate?" lando quirks an eyebrow and sips from his black drinks bottle as he asks the question, leaning his hip against a random storage container.

you'd been wandering around the paddock with lily zneimer while max finished up in the post-practice press conference, doing anything you could to escape the absolutely brutal singaporean heat. however, it seemed that the moment max left you alone, any man within a ten kilometer radius immediately decided to flirt with you.

as soon as the press conference was over and max was released from any further duties, he began searching for you throughout the paddock. after fifteen unsuccessful minutes, though, he thankfully ran into someone who might have a vague idea as to where you may be.

"daniel, have you seen-"

"mclaren hospitality with zneimer."

"thanks."

as max approached the painfully orange building, he heard your voice, mood immediately lifting. what he heard, however, pissed him off beyond measure.

"-told you, i have a boyfriend. i'm not interested. now, if you could kindly fuck off, i'm trying to enjoy my lunch."

what the fuck?

when he rounded the corner, he saw who you were talking to, and... really? this guy thought he had a chance with you? if there was anything more about the situation that could piss max off even more, it's the fact that he's leaning in way too close for his- and your- comfort.

"hey, schatje. everything all good over here?" max rests a hand on your shoulder, deliberately placing himself between you and this creep who won't leave you alone.

"yeah, everything's good. how did the press conference go?" you tilt your head back, and max immediately understands, ducking down to kiss you quickly.

it's that moment that the man bothering you chooses to speak up, and he somehow says the one thing that wouldn't help his situation right now, embarrassing as it is already. "could've just said you had a boyfriend. fuckin' bitch." max's hand twitches on your shoulder and you bring your own up to rest on it, holding him in place. instead of any other reaction, max offers him a fake smile before he storms off, leaving the two of you to burst into laughter.

max sits down next to you, steals a bite of your croissant, and leans back in his chair, a cocky smirk on his face as he chews the flaky pastry. "i was eating that, thank you very much."

"i'll buy you another one," max replies nonchalantly as if he didn't just stare daggers into the heart of the man that was flirting with you. "it seems like you need something that tells people you're taken, though."

later that night, max's lips and teeth ghosted across the skin of your neck, breasts, and thighs as you squirmed beneath him, promising that the blues, purples, and yellows that mottled your skin would ensure that no one would even think about flirting with you.

"nah, nothing much," max lies. "just the team debrief, some sim work, checking over numbers with gp, that kind of stuff. what about you?"

"nah, nothing much," lando responds with a shrug, teeth still clamped around the bendy straw. "played some padel games with max but we were roasted by the end of it. fell dead asleep by nine."

"yeah, the heat always beats it out of me here. i'm probably going to sleep for thirteen hours straight after the race on sunday."

"i probably will, too, honestly, but mostly because i can't beat the jet lag here." max nods in agreement, taking a sip out of his own drinks bottle. "a little birdy told me that you got up to more than just racing review, last night, though."

max's eyebrows furrow in confusion, and he swallows the gulp of water he'd taken. "what do you mean?"

"your neck, mate."

max whined as his hips canted up into yours, his hands desperately grabbing at your arms. your tongue laved over your teeth marks, matching blues and purples littering the lower part of max's neck but coming high enough so that they'd be just visible over the high collar of his fireproofs and race suit. "fuck, schatje, feels so good."

"yeah? you like everyone knowing that you're mine?" all max can do is nod pathetically, biting down on his lower lip in order to muffle the sounds he so desperately wants to make. "use your words, max."

"love it, want everyone to know i'm yours. everyone needs to know."

"there you go, baby." your hips resume their previous pattern, and you groan openly at the delicious slide of max's cock inside of you, filling you up so perfectly. he cries out when you shift your lips lower, taking his left nipple between your teeth gently, and you're able to pry one of his hands from your arm, bringing it to your own breast in hopes that he gets the memo.

he does.

max's hand immediately kneads at your breast, and you groan, your mouth shifting over to his other nipple and repeating the same ministrations, letting your teeth graze it ever so slightly between gentle licks and sucks. "mm, fuck, schatje, gonna cum, 'm gonna cum-"

"so cum for me, max." that's all max needs to hear before his head is thrown back and a beautiful moan rips itself from his throat, and you can't help but press your fingers into the bruises that litter his thick neck. the combination of the high-pitched wails that fill your ears and the feeling of max's cum filling you beyond full makes you fall over the edge, too, and you collapse onto his chest with a satisfied giggle.

max's hand immediately comes up to his neck and he tries not to wince at the flashes of pain that zip through his body, stemming from the lingering bite marks you'd left the night before, his eyes flashing wide. "that bad?"

"that bad," lando confirms with a nod and a smirk. "you might want to go find her and make her cover them up for you before qualifying."

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

I need more NSFW Walker headcanons pls😭

This started like a headcanon and quickly became a oneshot/fic situation. I hope you enjoyyyyy!!!!

Bob had set you both up at one of Val's events. The event ends, but somehow, you and John end up at the bar across the street. He clapped John on the back with a grin and a winked. “Go. Don’t screw it up.” And for once, John hadn’t barked back. He just looked at you, a little sheepish but hopeful, and asked, “You drink whiskey?”

Now here you are, sitting beside him in a booth, close enough that his thigh brushes yours every so often — accidental, but deliberate enough that it makes your skin tingle every time it happens.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on stayin’ long tonight,” he mutters, swirling the amber liquid. “Then you had to go and look at me like that.” You smile, heat pooling low in your belly. “Like what?”

He huffs out a laugh, dry but real. “Like you want me to ruin your life.” He glances at you sideways, mouth tugging into a crooked smirk. “And maybe let you ruin mine right back.”

Your pulse spikes. God, when he flirts like that — low and dangerous and rough around the edges — it’s lethal.

“Maybe I do,” you say softly, leaning in just a little closer. “You think you could handle that?” His knee knocks against yours, this time on purpose.

“I’ve handled worse,” he says, voice dropping lower. His eyes flicker down to your lips again — longer this time, more deliberate. “But I gotta warn you…” He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t do casual well. I get… intense.”

Your breath catches. The air between you crackles like a live wire. “I can handle intense,” you whisper back.

John’s jaw clenches, and for a heartbeat, it feels like he’s going to close the distance — to kiss you right there in the booth and damn the consequences. But then he leans back, dragging in a breath like he’s trying to get control of himself.

“Shit,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re dangerous.”

You smirk. “Says the ex-super soldier with a reputation for murder.”

That gets a real laugh out of him — low, rough, but warm. He leans back in the booth, finally letting his guard drop fully for the first time.

“I’m rusty at this,” he admits, eyes meeting yours with that blunt, brutal honesty that only John Walker could make attractive. “But I wanna see where this goes. If you’re game.”

You don’t hesitate. “I’m game.”

His grin is slow and wicked this time — the kind that makes your stomach flip and your thighs press together under the table.

“Good,” he says, voice like gravel and honey.

Finally, he mutters, “Where’d you park?” Voice rough, like gravel scraping against concrete.

You glance up at him, your own pulse pounding. “Didn’t drive. Took a ride here.”

His jaw ticks. “Me too.”

Another beat. The air crackles.

Then, lower: “My place is five blocks from here.” He glances sideways at you, eyes dark and burning. “If you wanna… come up. For a drink.”

The oldest line in the book — but when he says it, voice low and barely leashed, it feels like a promise.

You swallow hard, heart thudding. “Yeah. I wanna.”

His nostrils flare. You don’t miss the way his shoulders tense like he’s fighting the urge to just grab you right there on the sidewalk.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Alright. Let’s go before I do something stupid.”

The door to his apartment barely clicks shut before it happens.

John’s on you — all heat and muscle and raw need. He cages you against the wall, hands braced on either side of your head, and this time when his eyes drop to your mouth, he doesn’t look away.

“You sure?” he rasps, voice strained. His breath is hot against your lips. “Because once I start, I’m not fuckin’ stopping.”

Your answer is breathless, desperate: “Do it, John.”

That’s all he needs.

His mouth crashes onto yours — all teeth and tongue and hunger — and you moan, fisting your hands in his jacket as he presses his body flush against yours. He’s hard already, thick and heavy against your hip, and the feel of it makes your knees go weak.

John growls low in his throat, dragging you away from the wall and toward his bedroom like he can’t stand even a second of distance.

“Been fighting this all damn night,” he mutters against your skin, kissing down your jaw and throat as he walks you backward. “Tellin’ myself to take it slow. Be careful. Be good.” His voice turns into a snarl. “But I don’t want to be good. Not with you.”

You gasp as he bites at the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, your body already arching into him.

“Don’t want you to be good,” you whisper, breath hitching. “I want you. All of you.”

His grip on your waist tightens, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he growls. “You say shit like that, I’ll keep you here all fuckin’ night.”

You smile against his mouth, wicked and wanting. “That’s the idea.”

Something snaps in him then — his mouth claiming yours again as he backs you toward the bed. Clothes come off in a rush, tugged and torn and tossed aside. Then he thrusts in deep — and the world shatters around you.

He stretches you open with that first deep thrust, thick and heavy inside you, and the sound that rips from your throat is wrecked already. John groans — low and guttural — head dropping to the crook of your neck as he bottoms out.

“Fuck—” he growls, voice shredded. “Tight… so fuckin’ tight around me.”

His hands grip your hips like a vise, holding you still while he grinds deeper, making sure you feel every inch. His cock pulses inside you, thick veins dragging against your walls as he draws back and slams forward again — harder this time.

Your nails rake down his back, desperate to anchor yourself. “John— please—”

He snarls. “Yeah? You beggin’ already, sweetheart? Didn’t even get started yet.”

And then he does — hips snapping forward in rough, punishing strokes that make your back arch off the bed. Every thrust hits deep, brutal, and unrelenting.

Your moans break into gasps, high and desperate.

John leans up just enough to watch your face — blue eyes dark and blazing.

“Look at you,” he grunts, voice thick with pride and hunger. “Takin’ it so good. You were made for this — made for me.”

His hand slides up to your throat, not squeezing, just holding — a heavy, possessive weight that makes your head spin.

“You mine now,” he growls. “Ain’t lettin’ anybody else touch you. Gonna fuck you so full, you forget your own damn name.”

You whimper, legs shaking as you wrap them tighter around his waist, pulling him even deeper. “Please— John, want it—”

He bares his teeth in a snarl, hips stuttering. “Yeah? You want me to fill you up, sweetheart? Want me to fuck a baby into you? Make sure nobody doubts who you belong to?”

Your whole body clenches at the filthy promise, walls tightening around him so hard he curses.

“Shit—” he bites out. “You like that, huh? Like the idea of me breedin’ you, stretchin’ you out with my kid?” His hand grips your face, thumb pressing against your lips until you open your mouth and suck it in without thinking.

John groans, hips pistoning harder now, fucking into you like a man possessed.

“Gonna mark you up,” he rasps, voice raw. “Gonna leave bruises on this pretty skin so everybody knows you’re mine.”

And then he does — mouth latching onto your throat, biting down hard enough to make you cry out. His tongue soothes the sting, but when he pulls back, you feel the bruise blooming hot and deep.

Your body tightens, orgasm building sharp and fast, the filthy words and the rough claim pushing you over the edge.

“John— I’m— I’m coming—”

His eyes flash dark, triumphant.

“That’s it, baby. Milk my cock. Cum on it while I fuck this load deep inside you.”

He slams in once, twice— and then he buries himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, thick and hot and endless.

You feel it flood you, warmth spreading deep, and your walls clench around him like they’re trying to keep every drop inside.

John’s whole body shudders, sweat dripping down his chest as he leans over you, panting hard.

When he finally speaks, it’s rough and low, voice shot to hell.

“Fuckin’ ruined you, didn’t I?” His hand drops to your belly, possessive and tender all at once. “Filled you so full you’ll be leakin’ me for hours.”

You whimper, too wrecked to answer, and he leans in to kiss you — slow, claiming, but still hungry.

When he pulls back, there’s a dangerous smirk on his lips.

“Hope you ain’t expectin’ sleep, sweetheart. ‘Cause I’m not done. Not ‘til I know it took.”

Your body trembles under him — already sensitive, already ruined — but the heat flares back to life at his words.

He’s already getting hard again inside you.

[snottyped]

behind enemy lines

simon ghost riley x female reader nsfw

The mission ended hours ago.

You’re still flushed from adrenaline—sweaty, tense, heart pumping through your ribcage. But it’s not the firefight you’re thinking about. Not the intel, not the exit route, not even the fact that you nearly got yourself killed covering Ghost’s flank.

It’s him.

The way he grabbed your vest when the dust cleared. The way he looked at you—through you—like he was about to either about to yell at you or fuck you raw.

Now you’re in the weapons room, alone. Organizing gear. Trying to breathe normal.

Then the door clicks shut.

You freeze.

“Turn around.”

That voice—gravel soaked in gasoline. You’d know it anywhere.

Ghost.

You turn slowly. He’s already pulling off his gloves, eyes locked on you through the skull-stamped balaclava. His stare is molten.

“You want to tell me what the fuck that was out there?”

You swallow. “I did my job.”

He steps forward—silent, slow, predatory. Until your back hits the table.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” he growls. “Put yourself in the line. My line.”

You look up at him, chest heaving. “I knew you’d cover me.”

His hand wraps around your throat—not choking, just holding—ordering. His body presses into yours. Hard, heavy, and unmistakably harder beneath his tactical pants.

“You're real fuckin’ cocky for someone who's about to get bent over a steel table.”

You gasp, but he’s already turning you—palming your lower back, pushing you down. Your face hits the cold metal. Your hips arch back on instinct.

“There she is,” he mutters, dragging your pants down. “Fucking soaked. Knew you liked it when I’m mean.”

You moan as his fingers tease between your thighs, sliding slick over your folds.

“Dripping for me,” he murmurs. “Tell me that’s not pathetic.”

“It's not,” you breathe. “It's yours.”

That earns a grunt—and the sound of his zipper.

You don’t see it, but you feel it.

His cock—not just thick, but huge presses against your entrance, slow at first. Then he slams in all at once. His dick getting squeezed and sucked by your cunt.

You cry out—stuff your fist into your mouth to muffle it.

“Quiet,” he hisses. “Door’s not locked that well.”

The stretch is kinda painful, and lewd. He’s deep in seconds, fucking into you with brutal efficiency—no sweet nothings, no mercy. Just Ghost. Just need.

“You like this?” he snarls. “Like being used where anyone could walk in?”

You nod frantically, sobbing into the table.

He leans down, his masked face beside your ear.

“Bet you think about this in your bunk. Think about my cock when you're supposed to be sleeping.”

You clench around him—he laughs, dark and low.

“Slut.”

His pace picks up. You feel everything—his hands gripping your hips, his thighs slamming into yours, his cock driving up into you like he's trying to carve his name in your cunt.

You’re close. So close.

“Don't you dare come yet,” he hums. “You come with me.”

You whimper, trying to hold it in.

“That’s it. Good girl. You listen so well when I’ve got my cock in you.”

The table creaks beneath you. His rhythm gets rougher—possessive. His fingers dig into your flesh like he’s trying to brand you.

Then he slows. Deep thrusts. Intentional.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he breathes. “Every drop. You’re gonna walk out of here leaking me.”

That’s what breaks you.

You come hard, crying out his name, legs shaking as he keeps fucking you through it.

And then he follows—burying deep with a low groan, hips jerking, cock pulsing inside you. He stays there, breathing ragged, holding you still as he finishes.

Silence, heavy and soaked.

You twitch when he finally pulls out.

“Messy,” he mutters. “Good.”

You’re limp. Fucked stupid. But you can still hear him zipping up, adjusting his gear.

Then his hand slides under your chin—tilts your face up to his.

“Next time you want me this bad,” he says, “ask. Don’t get yourself shot.”

You nod, dazed.

He opens the door, glances down the hallway, then looks back at you.

“Clean yourself up, soldier.”

And then he's gone.

But his cum is still leaking down your thighs.

[ds-angel1]

cw: smut(18+), piss kink, shoe riding, rafe is mean, hair pulling, degradation, dub-con i suppose, he kinda kicks her in the kitty but not hard

a/n: this was a request, kinda feel like the writing sounds really weird but at least I wrote something...

Rafe was pissed.

The whole day you had been so damn annoying and so damn demanding. Not only did you throw a tantrum about the breakfast he made you, aka the bagel he stole from Barry´s house when he was there last night, but you also followed him around to every damn place he went, begging and tugging on him for attention. He was so done with you and your clingy attitude.

Your feet failed to keep the rhythm of stepping one in front of the other as Rafe gripped your hair and shoved you through the doorway. The lost balance caused you to end up tumbling down onto the marble floor, your skirt fluttering up as the cold material cooled your sun-baked skin.

“What the fuck?!” Rafe yelled, his strong voice grounding its way through all the halls and corners of the large, empty house. Sheepishly, you lifted your head to look up at him, his body so tense and rigid, you´d think he was standing on a landmine.

“You think you can just do that? Fuckin´ act like a desperate pathetic puppy all day, embarrassing me?” His eyes, ever so inclined to show their beautiful blue shade because of how wide they strung because of his anger, met yours, fluttering as your mind scrambled and sprinted to find a way to solve this.

“I could replace you any fucking day, you know that?” That made you pause, looking up at him as your lips parted and your expression contorted into a look that truly embodied pure despair.

Fuck, now he felt sorry.

“C´mere,” he ordered, his head nodding towards you. He wouldn´t actually ever leave you or replace you, he knew that, but you didn´t need to. It kept you in line, the fear of being left alone, different from the fear he insisted in you in other instances, the fear that you craved.

It was only a good 2 meters or so and you were already sitting in front of him, you opted to crawl across the grey floors knowing how much he loved it when you did stuff like that. No matter how much of a thorn you were in every side he had, you always just wanted to please him, to be ordered and owned by him.

His fingers gripped your hair again, yanking you into his legs, your head hitting his thigh as you let out a surprised screech. Then without even a single moment to recover, you suddenly felt his Oxford creep up your thighs, meeting your now aching cunt with a brutal force. A yelp left you as you head-butted his thigh.

“Ride it.”

Your heart started to race, your eyebrows wrinkling together. “…what?”

“You wanted attention, now you fucking got it. Ride my fucking shoe like the attention whore you are.”

“Rafe…” you whined, looking up at him pleadingly, your lips sticking out in a pout.

His foot pushed upwards even harder, moving back and forth as his eyes ordered you to do as he said, or else.

“No, Rafe, I have to pee,” you murmured shamefully, tugging at his khakis to stop. It was true, the full day of following Rafe around didn’t seem to involve going to the bathroom. You planned on going after Rafe was done putting you in your place but now that his shoe was between your legs and you were in this position, your bladder was ready to be emptied.

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” He spat out, pulling your hair harsher than before and rubbing his hard, dark-brown Oxford even harder into your sex. “Do it.”

A moment went by where no sound at all left either of you and no noise was present throughout the whole villa.

“O- okay…” you whispered, each of your short breaths ending on a sharp note.

Slowly, Rafe put his foot down, the leather crashing down on the marble barking out a loud thwack. With a shaky movement to it, you sank down, your thong-clad core meeting his shoe. As you looked up into his mardy blue eyes with your fluttering ones, you rolled your hips, pressing your hips firmly down to catch that satisfying friction to ease yourself.

Rafe´s smirk grew wider and crueler as you continued grinding yourself down on his foot, hitched whines and pathetic whimpers coming from you as you did. Your lower abdomen burned with the sensation of needing release.

“It hurts,” you wailed, gripping his pants tightly to keep you from toppling over.

“What hurts, baby?” he cooed, the hand he had in your hair, forcing you to show him even more of your contorted face.

“I have to pee…”

You sounded so desperate, Rafe loved it, he loved the way your hips twitched when his shoe moved up against your soaked sex again, the leather pushing against your smarting clit and palpitating hole, he loved the way your eyes widened in panic when he hissed, “Fine. Then do it. Now. Here.”

You looked up at him, checking if he meant it; if he was really about to make you do something so degrading, so humiliating, so mortifying.

The slight nod of his head told you he was in fact serious about this. With one last roll of your hips and your eyes tightly clamped shut, you let go, letting the painful press of your full bladder be expelled all over your boyfriend's expensive shoe and floor.

“Fuckin´ pathetic.” You heard Rafe curse under his breath as you continued feverishly moving your cunt over his now-wet shoe, chasing an even better high than the one you just experienced a moment ago.