#feel like I’m being watched whenever I’m around there

[yulin-pop]

⤷ ✧ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

order 88 | headcanons | Heartslabyul | Gender Neutral

❀ NOTE: ignoring them and giving silent treatment. Unintentionally a bit angsty, how could you ever ignore them

Requests open as of now if request now if you have any😎

➺ Ace Trappola

He is honestly really offended and keeps mocking you saying how you can’t keep it up forever. But once he realizes it’s been longer than a few minutes he gets actually agitated. He sits right next to you, staring expectantly. If you move away he gets closer. He gets really clingy and does everything to make you talk again. Texts you, bribes you, ignores you back, pokes you, tickles you, just everything.

“Look at the video I sent you.” He said while elbowing you, but you say nothing but just continue doing whatever on your phone. He grits his teeth and he suddenly squeezes the side of your waist. He laughs at your reaction and tries to poke at your stomach as you try to ignore him and defend yourself from his attacks. Best to give in at that point.

➺ Deuce Spade

He’s so sad, he doesn’t really notice it at first and just assumes you’re spaced out until you turn and walk away from him. He chases after you and, like Ace, follows you around and clings to you. He’s basically begging to know what he did wrong and asks a lot of questions and apologizes for everything. He still wants to be near you even if you’re mad at him.

“[Name], are you okay?” He leaned over to you but you didn’t even glance at him, just reading the book you had. “I’m sorry for whatever I did.” With no response back he looks at the book you’re reading and sighs. He grabs your free hand and squeezes it apologetically. Unconsciously you may squeeze his hand back.

➺ Cater Diamond

He’s unbearable, it feels like he’s being brutally punched in the gut whenever you ignore him so it’s agony. He needs your attention. HE NEEDS IT. You have to watch the videos he sends you and you have to respond to all of it. More importantly you need to talk to him. He will grab you and look at you in the eye and ask why. Though your silence and turning away is enough to make him sulk. He just keeps whining until you give in. Which he doesn’t know when but he’ll do it as long as he has to. He sets up a Timelapse video of you until you talk again. He uses any tactic to break your silence.

“[Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name]!” He chanted while pulling your arm, “You can’t ignore me forever! Whatever it is I’m super sorry and I won’t do it again but please talk to me…” You didn’t even glance his way but he grabbed your chin and forces eye contact. He pulls you in close and gives you a slow kiss, cut short because of you pulling away bashfully. He leans over and smirks, “C’mon.”

➺ Trey Clover

He tries to reflect on what he has done to deserve this but he is still really disheartened by being so blatantly ignored. He tries to talk to you for a bit, asking how your day was and if you need help with anything. He’ll probably fix your hair for you and clean up some, trying to get in your good graces again. If that doesn’t work then he does what he does best, which is baking. He bakes your favorite pastry.

“[Name], are you hungry?” He asks but no response, not even a glance. He sighs and sets it down in front of you, before picking up a piece and holding it close to your face. He can see you inhale it and you blink a few times while struggling to contain your urge to eat it. He smirks, “If you want it, use your words.”

➺ Riddle Rosehearts

You can see the heartbreak on his face when he greets you and you move right past him. Maybe you were spaced out? But once you do it again he’s troubled. He approaches you calm but in the inside he’s desperate trying not to crash out. He asks to talk it out and he wants to apologize properly. But once ignored again he’s freaking out. He grabs your hand and unexpectedly just hugs you.

“In order to understand what I did wrong, I must know what it was. It cannot be a true apology if you leave me in the dark.” He says earnestly though you walk away. You don’t get very far as he grabs your hand and with a pause he pulls you in. His arms wrap around you and he presses his forehead against your shoulder. “Yell at me, insult me, just say something.”

[atzhrts]

all this talk about anton breeding kink is making me crazy like… i need to bare his children

but i feel like he’d like the idea of it in the moment and then freak out afterwards like “omg i’m only 20” and rush to buy u a plan b 😭

how do you think anton would react if he ACTUALLY got u pregnant… i feel like he’d be so sweet about it because he’s my sweet baby ☹️ but i also feel like he’d still be shocked though as if he didn’t consciously choose to risk it like that 😭

you’re so right oml

i feel like in the moment he’d be so caught up, imagining you pregnant & the possessiveness of it all but i don’t even know if he’d actually fuck you without a condom 😭

anton’s mind: having your pussy wrapped around him raw and feeling your wetness spread around his lengths without any barriers 👍🏻 being a father at 20 and having the responsibility to look after another human being 👎🏻

that being said if you actually get pregnant he’d be the sweetest ever ☹️ reminding you that it’s your body and how he supports whatever decision you make. that he’s always there for you and will take care of you no matter what.

will constantly tell you how beautiful you are and how glad he is that you’re his. you’d never have to carry anything again, anton rushing to your side immediately to take the bags out of your hand. he’d tie your shoelaces and shave your legs for you. walking next to him, his hand would always be on your lower back, signaling you that he’s there and he’s looking after you. whenever you cook something you’d have anton attached to your back, his head tucked over your shoulder watching you do your thing and his hands caressing your growing bump.

he’s just so domestic and so husband coded <3

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕴 LOVE YOU

Megan Skiendiel x fem!reader

summary: megan’s been best friends with y/n since day 1. they got each other through dream academy together and they were experiencing success side by side. but when y/n starts getting a little more intimate with sophia, megan seems to realize things about herself she hadn’t noticed before…

warnings: angst!! harsh language, some real hard pining

Megan had always been good at hiding her feelings. It came with the territory of being in a band, where emotions could complicate the already delicate balance of creative and personal dynamics. But when it came to Y/N, her best friend and older member of Katseye, hiding her feelings had become more than a skill—it was a necessity.

She didn’t remember exactly when it started.

Maybe it was during one of their late-night songwriting sessions, where Y/N would sit cross-legged on the floor of HYBE’s studio, her hair a mess but her eyes alight with passion. On some nights when she couldn’t sleep, the woman would just sit and tinker with whatever she had to work with, and sometimes, Megan would join her.

Or maybe, it was when the two of them were sitting in the theatre with the girls watching a horror movie. They had paired off and Y/N desperately begged for the two of them to sit together. Whenever a jumpscare would pounce onscreen, the older woman would grab onto the redhead’s arm.

Megan caught herself hearing her heart drum against her ears as Y/N’s hot fingertips danced down her arm. Her head would lay on the Chinese dancer’s shoulder, and they were practically teased the whole of that week for being such a couple.

What Megan did know was that by the time Y/N started dating Sophia, it was already too late.

It wasn’t that Sophia wasn’t a good person. In fact, she was one of Megan’s closer relationships in Katseye. She was talented, driven, and had a maternally gentle nature that kept everyone grounded. She made Y/N laugh in a way that lit up the entire room, and Megan hated how much she noticed.

Tonight, the band had gathered at their shared studio for a casual rehearsal, then turned hangout. Sophia and Y/N were seated on the couch, the leader’s arm around the woman’s shoulder as they laughed over something on Y/N’s phone. Megan sat across the room, her guitar in her lap, strumming absentmindedly as she tried not to watch them.

It was harder than it should have been.

“Earth to Megan,” came a voice, snapping her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Lara waving a hand in front of her face. “Dude, you’ve been playing the same chord for, like, five minutes. It’s driving me nuts.”

Megan set her guitar down onto her lap. “Oh, my bad,” she said, adjusting her position on the couch. “I zoned out.”

“Zoning out or zoning in?” Daniela, who strolled over to plop down beside the redhead, asked, her voice low enough that only she could hear. Her eyes flicked briefly toward the couch, and Megan’s heart sank.

Lara wasn’t the only one who had noticed, then.

“I’m fine,” Megan said quickly, shooting them a look that begged for both of them to drop it.

But Lara wasn’t about to let it slide. She was tired of watching the redhead stare longingly at the band’s couple. It was taking away her energy in the studio, at home, and even at dance practices—which Megan loved most. She crossed her arms and gave her a pointed look.

"Megan, we’re not idiots. You’ve been distracted in every rehearsal. Your playing’s been off, and you don’t give as much energy at practices. That’s not normal for you." She leaned in a little closer. "Is it about Sophia?"

At the mention of Sophia’s name, Megan’s stomach twisted. She thought of the easy way Sophia was always around Y/N, guiding her, supporting her. Sophia deserved Y/N’s full attention and loyalty, didn’t she? So why did her mind always return to her best friend?

Megan swallowed, forcing herself to meet Lara’s eyes. "No, no, it’s nothing like that."

“So it’s about Y/N?” Daniela chimed. "You’ve been really distant with her, which is insane because ya’ll are always together and it’s usually super suffocating. You’re not yourself, and we just want to make sure you’re okay."

Megan’s chest tightened. She opened her mouth to protest, to tell them she was fine, but the words got stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to admit what she was feeling. She didn’t want to confront the truth that was too messy, too complicated. But how could she keep pretending? How could she keep ignoring what was growing between her and Y/N?

Lara’s voice broke through her thoughts again. "What’s up, Megan? And be for real with us.”

Megan finally let out a long breath, looking down at the guitar in her lap. She couldn’t lie to them forever. Maybe they already knew. Maybe they could see through her better than she realized. But it was still so uncomfortable to unpack it.

"I don’t know what’s going on," Megan admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel the weight of her words hanging in the air. "I think... I think I’m just confused. And I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m fine, guys. I swear.”

Daniela and Lara exchanged a look, but neither of them pushed. Instead, Daniela placed a gentle hand on Megan’s shoulder, rubbing it with her fingers. "You don’t have to figure it all out on your own. Just talk to us. We’ll help you sort it out."

Lara nodded, her usual demeanor softened. "Yeah, we got you. Whatever it is, you don’t have to keep it inside."

Megan looked up, meeting their eyes. She felt a lump form in her throat. "I don’t know if I can fix it," she muttered. "I don’t even know if I want to fix it. I just feel... stuck. And I hate feeling like this."

"You’re not stuck," Lara said firmly. "You’ve always been the one who knows exactly what she wants, Meg. But sometimes... sometimes we’re faced with things that make us question what we thought we knew." Her voice softened. "It’s okay to be confused. It’s okay to need time to figure things out."

Megan let out a shaky breath, her mind racing. It felt like the ground beneath her was shifting. She had always been the one with a clear direction, someone who knew what they wanted. But now, everything felt tangled, uncertain.

She had feelings for Y/N.

Feelings she hadn’t expected to develop—feelings she couldn’t just erase. And then there was Sophia, who was her friend and took care of her when she was struggling with her career. She couldn’t break that, could she?

It wouldn’t just be betraying her bond with her band mate, but the one with her best friend too.

Lara raised an eyebrow, sharing a look with Daniela. Neither of them pushed further. Instead, they turned their attention to the others. “Are we running through the new song, or what?”

From across the room, Y/N had slipped her phone back into her pocket. Sophia was staring at the woman under her arm, but Y/N’s searching gaze landed on Megan.

And when their eyes met, the older member beamed at the redhead. It was moments like this that gave Megan undeserved hope, moments she really wanted to believe Y/N only had eyes for her, when everybody else had eyes on her.

“Let’s do it,” Y/N said, grinning as she stood.

Y/N stood, leaving Sophia’s arms as she strode over to where Megan sat. Daniela and Lara moved so the woman could make room for herself, slotting her body between Daniela and Megan on the couch. The older’s hand brushed against Megan’s arm, then down to the guitar.

Megan swore her cheeks looked bright red just then.

Sophia didn’t seem to pay them any mind, and Megan hated the fact she was so hyperaware of the leader’s every move. She wished she could be as confident and secure as Sophia, being able to just exist as their own person without worrying about their feelings. She felt guilty, so guilty it was eating her alive. Almost like she knew she was wrong to be thinking about the way her best friend’s body was pressed against her on the couch, staring at her as if she’d hung all the stars in the sky.

She wanted—no, needed to believe it was somewhat real.

That she wasn’t totally insane thinking there was something.

As the group broke into song, lead by Manon on a base and Megan on the guitar, their voices blended together. Singing harmonies with Y/N always felt like magic, Megan loved the way their voices bled into each other in a way that was almost instinctual. But tonight, every glance Y/N threw her way, every smile, felt like a dagger twisting in her chest.

After a few hours, they wrapped up for the night. Sophia suggested heading to a nearby bar to unwind, and everyone agreed. Megan hesitated, but the idea of going home to sit alone with her thoughts felt even worse.

At the bar, the group settled into a booth, ordering drinks and laughing over inside jokes. Megan tried to join in, but her attention kept drifting to Y/N and Sophia.

Y/N would make a joke, and in her blinding fit of excitement, she’d get too caught up in something Sophia had said and miss the way Megan opened her mouth to mention something.

At one point, Y/N turned to Megan, her smile bright.

Almost like she was mocking Megan.

When their round of drinks (and Yoonchae’s soda) was nearly downed clean by the girls, Y/N offered to go order everybody another round. Her soft hand shelled Megan’s, for the first time that night, urging her to follow to have a moment alone.

“Hey, you okay? You’ve been pretty quiet tonight.”

Megan’s chest tightened at the concern in Y/N’s voice. She nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just tired. I’ve been sleeping on my neck kinda weird lately or something.”

Y/N frowned slightly, her brow furrowing. “I have the spine adjusting pillow thing. I wish you would’ve told me, I would’ve given it to you in a heartbeat.”

“I know,” Megan said softly, her gaze dropping to her drink. That’s the problem, she thought.

She was slightly taken aback when she felt warm fingertips run along her neck. She flinched at the sudden contact, earning a look of concern from Y/N.

“Okay, something’s wrong. You’re all… jumpy.”

Megan scoffed, cackling forcefully as her whisker dimples appeared. She shook her head, “No, no, it’s all good, seriously. Nothing’s wrong, I promise you.”

“Then let me check your neck, red.”

Red was such a stupid nickname. It was a stupid nickname when Y/N gave it to her after getting her hair dyed, and it was a stupid nickname now. She hated hearing it. She hated it. She hated hearing Y/N say it. She hated it so much, she wish she could just hear her say it one more time then never again.

When Y/N reached for her neck again, she didn’t say anything. She felt her own skin burn with each tap of her fingertips.

Y/N massaged the kinks she didn’t even know she had out of her neck. The warmth of Y/N's hands seeped through her skin, and for a moment, everything else—the noise of the bar, the hum of the blaring music—disappeared. It was just Y/N, her steady hands working magic on the tension in her muscles, and something inside Megan churned the same way it did the few times they were alone together recently.

The older woman’s touch was so gentle, but their hands were firm, assured. Megan’s breath caught in her throat as Y/N massaged deeper, easing the tightness with a practiced touch.

There was something so intimate about it.

She wondered if Y/N would do this for Sophia, if the leader came out and said she was sleeping on her neck wrong, would Y/N be as eager to help soothe her neck?

Megan closed her eyes, letting out a small sigh as the tension slowly melted away, but her mind was racing. Her heart beat faster with every second Y/N’s fingers lingered on her skin, and it was then—right there at the quiet section of the bar—that it hit her like a wave.

She wasn’t just grateful. She wasn’t just feeling affection.

She was in love with Y/N. With her best friend.

The realization was sharp, unexpected. Megan pulled in a breath, but it was like the world had tilted just slightly, making everything feel more vivid, more intense.

Y/N’s voice broke through her thoughts, their hands pausing as they asked, “How’s that? Better?”

Megan opened her eyes, but her breath was a little unsteady. She cleared her throat, forcing a smile. She couldn’t bring herself to look Y/N in the eye. “Yeah... a lot better. Thanks.”

Y/N gave her a grin, their hands lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before pulling away. "Anytime, red."

But as Y/N returned to their spot, Megan sat still, the weight of her own heart pulling her deeper into something she hadn’t expected. She had fallen for them, and it had happened in the quietest, simplest of moments. And now, she wasn’t sure what to do with the feelings she couldn’t untangle.

The night wore on, and eventually, the group began to disperse. Manon and Daniela were adamant in going out to more clubs, Lara and Yoonchae were going to carpool back home after a stop at the convenience store. And eventually, it was just Y/N left behind, looking out for the redhead who refused to join any of the other groups. Sophia lingered behind for her girlfriend, but also eyeing Megan in question, beckoning her for an answer about her plans for the night.

“You need a ride home, Megan?” Sophia asked.

“You two go ahead,” Megan said, waving them off when they offered to share a cab. “I’ll walk. I need some air.”

Y/N hesitated, her eyes searching Megan’s face as if trying to read between the lines. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Megan said, her voice firmer than she felt. “I’ll see you guys at home.”

She watched them leave, Y/N’s arm linked with Sophia’s, their laughter trailing behind them. When they had disappeared around the street corner, Megan decided to stay at the bar for a while longer, nursing a drink in her hands and replaying the night in her mind.

By the time she made it back to the dorm, the place was empty and quiet. It was well past midnight and she could hear Manon snoring from downstairs.

She sat on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

The door creaked open, startling her. She turned to see Y/N stepping out from her and Yoonchae’s room, sporting one of Megan’s hoodies.

Fuck, she looked so good. How could she look so good?

“Y/N?” Megan said, sitting up. She watched the older circle around the couch to stand just inches under front of her. “What are you still doing up? It’s super late.”

“It is,” Y/N said, her eyebrows furrowed, “But I couldn’t sleep because I didn’t hear you come back.”

Megan’s heart skipped a beat. She swallowed thickly, looking away. “I just… went on a joyride,” she said quickly, though her voice lacked conviction. “It’s not a big deal.”

Y/N sighed, sitting beside her.

“I know you so much better than you think I do, red. You’ve been lying to me, and I didn’t want to press, but you’re not giving me anything to work with and I’m getting real worried about you.” Y/N confessed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “I get it, you can work at your own pace, I don’t want to pry, but you’ve been off. You’ve been lying to me, you haven’t been giving your all in rehearsals and you’ve been coming home late a lot when we have nights off. So for once, just tell me the truth, Megan.”

Megan hesitated, her mind racing. She could lie, brush it off again, but the weight of her feelings was too much to bear.

“I...” Megan began, her voice faltering. She took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had. “I have feelings for someone. And it’s... complicated.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached out to squeeze Megan’s hand. “Hey, that’s great,” she said gently. “You can tell me.”

Megan shook her head. “That’s the thing. I can’t.”

Y/N’s grip on her hand tightened. “Why not?”

Megan met Y/N’s gaze, her heart pounding. Her fingers fidgeted. “Because it’s you, and I don’t want it to be.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and irrevocable. Y/N’s eyes widened, her expression shifting to something unreadable. Regret rammed straight into Megan like a truck.

“Megan,” the older said softly, her voice barely audible.

“I know you’re with Sophia,” Megan said quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I would never do anything to come between you two. But I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel this way. It’s been eating me alive. Fuck—just forget I said anything, okay? It’s so stupid and I just… fuck.”

Y/N’s silence was deafening, and Megan’s stomach twisted.

“Just—I’m sorry,” Megan sighed, feeling the gravity of her words blow straight back into her face. “Fuck, seriously, just forget it. I should’ve never said anything.”

She stands to leave, pulling her hands away from Y/N’s.

“Megan, wait—”

But Megan was already at the door of her and Lara’s shared bedroom, her hand on the handle. The door closed behind her, leaving Y/N to simmer alone in the aftermath.

She didn’t know what would happen next—if Y/N would tell Sophia, if the band dynamics would crumble, or if they’d somehow find a way to move forward. All she knew was that, for the first time in years, she had been honest with herself. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

[nectardaddy]

UNDER THE LIGHTS

♥︎ dedicated to @husbandograveyard

*:･ k. bokuto + f! reader 

*:･ notes/CWs: in collaboration with “hq x reader secret santa” by @lale-txt (ily lale kiss your brain), I had a lot of fun writing this I hope you enjoy it <3, not holiday specific but they are looking at lights, some swearing here and there, wc: 680

It was frigid, the air cold and crisp as it nipped at exposed skin. Hands numb - gloves sitting on the kitchen counter by a complete fluke - and jacket pulled tight around her, she let out a small curse as another frosty breeze flowed past. Bokuto had pulled her from the warmth of her bed, a beaming smile was ungodly hard to say no to, and dragged her out in the bitter wind of the evening. 

Holiday lights. 

Two words being the only ones on his tongue for an hour before the pair had left, chanting them like a prayer until she finally caved. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to go out with the man, she adored his company whenever he happened to grace her with it - which was quite often these days - but it was spine chillingly cold. A cold that seeped into the bones and settled, freezing one from the inside out. To make matters worse, it only became icier as the sun set farther and farther. 

But the man seemed to be nearly immune to the cold, an energy surrounded him that melted away the mere thought of wintry weather. And the warmth crept around her in an all encompassing hold as the man wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close with a playful smile. 

“You promise you’re having fun?” Asked with a cheekiness to it, a whimsy in his words that was always apparent regardless of his feelings. “I know it’s cold.”

She couldn't help the small smile that bit at her lips, “I’m freezing my ass off.” There was a tease to the statement he nearly missed, and his smile flickered briefly. She noticed, and leaned into the embrace he had her in, “I'm having fun, Kou - promise.” 

Bright hues of reds, greens, oranges, and blues - truly an assortment of all - blinked, sparkled, and flickered off the faces of those that walked past and the pair that looked on. He found himself pausing when he looked over at her, taking a small breath as all he could do was stand and stare. Golden eyes fixated on the woman next to him rather than the lights he wished to see in the first place. Star struck and at a lack of words, for once in his life, he opened his mouth to say something but no words came. 

“‘So pretty,” was all that managed to slip past the man’s lips. Though it sounded more in a whisper, under his breath even, and he saw her brows scrunch in confusion as she looked over to him. Even still, he was at a lack of articulation, more so now as he watched her eyes wander over his face. She was confused by what he had mumbled, but he couldn’t find the correct words to piece together - too enthralled in looking at her to even speak. Couldn’t find a single sentence, a single phrase, or single word that described what he felt in the moment; his mind went blank.

“What?” She smiled warmly at him and a small chuckle left her at his dazed expression; one that she was used to, no less, but endearing regardless. 

“You’re beautiful.” A breathless statement, said in awe as he only continued to stare. 

“And you’re very handsome.” 

“No,” he breathed. “You don’t get it,” he smiled. “You're gorgeous.” He watched her eyes widen before she looked to the ground, biting back a wide smile that wanted to grace her lips. 

“You're just saying that,” she chuckled and suddenly she didn't feel so cold anymore. A warmth bubbled up in her chest and in her cheeks, and rose as her eyes flickered up and met him again. Bright, full of unmatched energy, and swimming with an emotion that was foreign to her; it made her stomach take turns and bounds. “I look the same as I do every other day.” 

His smile could rival the sun, and she would always fly a bit too close. 

“And you look gorgeous everyday, but you look really pretty with the lights on you.” 

gen tags

@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks 

@yogurtkags @bakery-anon @totallytatum @mollyrolls @standcom 

@jadeoru @hyunteru @kameyyy @nekozaki @sandwhitches 

@angelichwv @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @crypt-0rchid

[na0koz]

thoughts on strap hcs for jinx 😞🗣️💜

I know damn well she’d be using something thick and textured or something she designed herself-

MDNI. cw: strap (duh), bondage mention, mention of jinx being sadistic

toxic!jinx masterlist

oh hell yeah she made that shit herself.

something that can vibrate or do something a lil extra just to add to her thrusts whenever she uses it on you. maybe somehow uses shimmer in it, if it would make it feel even better idk how shimmer works.. (but like have u guys seen that timebomb hc where ekko gets a little high whenever he kisses her cus she’s like 50% shimmer…yea that’s what i’m going for.)

i’m pretty sure i said this in another post but she could fuck you with her strap for hours and be satisfied just from making you cum over and over. you try to return the favor and she’s like insistent that she’s okay just making you cum. she does like receiving, but more often prefers to give when it comes to strap.

likes missionary the most. kinda boring but she likes to see your face and exactly how you react to what she gives you. also your tits bouncing in time with her thrusts are a bonus.

she’ll tie your wrists up every now and then, either to the headboard of your bed or just above your head. no particular reason she just likes being the one in control.

she’s obviously a little sadistic, so she does have you cockwarm her sometimes. you on her lap, whimpering as she keeps tutting at you, coaxing you to stay still with a loose hand on your waist while she does whatever is so important.

then she’ll have you ride her and bounce on her dick until you cum at least twice. she won’t do anything though she’ll just sit there, leaning back in her seat while she watches you desperately try to get yourself off.

i don’t think she’s big on sucking strap, she’d rather have you suck her fingers or vice versa. likes fucking you with her strap but doesn’t see any point in sucking it cus at the end of the day it’s a not a real dick lmao..

when she receives strap though ohhh she is crying thrashing around on the bed. she loves you taking control of her and fucking her.

she favors positions that are generally seen to be uncomfortable i guess would be the word? like stretching her legs so wide open with her knees next to her ears. she says it makes it feel better that way.

like i mentioned, i honestly think she cries when she cums. the feeling is just so intense she can’t handle it, but she loves it. she loves it even more when you lick her tears from her cheeks and coo at her for doing so well.

i think she’s a squirter too ngl guys. nothing really more to add on that one.

overall she is a sensational strap user and uses her genius for good to make the best strap she can for you :P

[atinyslittleworld]

18:19

a/n: Hello everyone!!! Thank you for all the love and support on Claimed. I’m so excited to share this second part of the story with you. I hope you enjoy how their story unfolds and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts. Also, wishing you all a very Merry Christmas Eve and a Merry Christmas! May your holidays be filled with joy, love, and warmth xx

Word Count: 1,417

Genre: romance, friends-to-lovers, suspence

Warnings: stalking, harassment, physical confrontaion, emotional distress

The night outside the club had cooled, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog filling the quiet as Mingi drove Y/N back to her apartment. The weight of the evening still hung between them, the shared intensity of their earlier kiss making her pulse quicken whenever her eyes flicked toward him. His hands rested on the steering wheel with a casual confidence, but his jaw was tense, and his focus seemed sharper than usual, as if he were keeping his guard up.

Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft. “Thanks for earlier... I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t stepped in.”

Mingi glanced at her, his dark eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the road. “You don’t need to thank me. You shouldn’t have to deal with creeps like that, ever.” His voice was steady but low, a thread of anger still simmering beneath his calm demeanor. “I wasn’t going to let him keep making you uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his words settled over her, easing the remnants of her nerves. She smiled faintly, turning her gaze to the window to hide the flush that rose to her cheeks. The city lights blurred past, the rhythm of the tires against the asphalt filling the quiet between them.

As they neared her apartment, Mingi’s grip on the wheel tightened imperceptibly. He’d noticed a car following them for a while now. At first, he dismissed it as coincidence—plenty of people drove the same routes late at night. But it had been at least ten minutes, and the headlights behind them had yet to waver or take a different turn. The uneasy knot in his chest grew tighter.

He stole another glance in the rearview mirror. The car was still there, maintaining a steady distance. Mingi decided not to mention it; maybe he was being paranoid. The last thing he wanted was to worry Y/N after the night she’d already had.

Finally, he pulled up in front of her building, the familiar sight of the apartment complex easing some of his tension. He parked by the curb, the streetlight overhead casting a warm glow over the car. Shifting into park, he turned to Y/N, his lips quirking into a faint smile.

“Home sweet home,” he said lightly, though his stomach still churned with unease.

“Thanks for driving me,” Y/N replied, returning his smile as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “And for everything tonight, really. I feel... safer with you.”

The sincerity in her words made his chest tighten, but he only nodded. “Always.”

They lingered for a moment, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Finally, Y/N pushed open the door, stepping out into the cool night. “Goodnight, Mingi.”

“Goodnight,” he murmured, watching as she walked toward the building entrance. His gaze stayed on her until she reached the door, his fingers gripping the steering wheel as if anchoring himself.

As she entered her building, Mingi shifted his car into reverse, ready to leave. The uneasy feeling from earlier still gnawed at him, but he tried to brush it off. He drove down the street, the tires crunching softly over the asphalt. But the further he got, the more his instincts screamed at him to turn back. Something didn’t feel right.

It was then that Y/N, now standing just inside the building’s front doors, heard a shuffling behind her. Before she could turn completely, a hand grabbed her arm with a force that sent her heart racing. She spun around, her breath catching in her throat when she came face-to-face with the stranger from the club. His eyes were glassy, his movements unsteady—a clear sign he was drunk.

“You think you can just brush me off like that?” he slurred, his grip tightening on her arm. His voice was thick with resentment, and the smugness he’d displayed at the club had curdled into something far darker. “I knew you were lying about him. He’s not your boyfriend.”

Y/N’s mind raced, fear prickling down her spine as she tried to pull away. “Let go of me,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “You need to leave.”

The stranger only laughed, the sound cold and unsettling. “You think you’re too good for me? Is that it?” His words were laced with wounded pride and the kind of entitlement that made her stomach churn.

Meanwhile, Mingi had only made it a few blocks before the nagging feeling became too much to ignore. He abruptly turned his car around, cursing himself for not trusting his instincts sooner. As he approached her building again, his worst fears were realized.

There, under the streetlight, stood the same man from the club, looming over Y/N with a grip on her arm. Mingi didn’t even think. He threw his car into park and bolted out, his long strides eating up the distance between them in seconds.

“Get your hands off her,” Mingi growled, his voice low and dangerous as he yanked Y/N behind him. His tall frame towered over the stranger, his body radiating protective fury.

The man staggered back slightly, clearly not expecting Mingi’s sudden appearance. But he recovered quickly, sneering as he looked between them. “You’re lying,” he spat. “You’re not together. She was just using you to get rid of me.”

Mingi’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t need to prove anything to you,” he said coldly, his gaze unflinching. “What I care about is you staying the hell away from her.”

The stranger laughed bitterly, but it lacked the confidence he’d displayed earlier. “You think you can just show up and play hero? She’s not worth it.”

That was it. Mingi stepped forward, his presence alone enough to make the man falter. “You don’t get to talk about her,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “And if I ever see you near her again, you’ll regret it.”

The stranger hesitated, the steel in Mingi’s voice finally cutting through his drunken bravado. With a muttered curse, he stumbled away, disappearing into the shadows of the street. Mingi didn’t move until he was sure the man was gone, his broad shoulders heaving with restrained anger.

Turning to Y/N, his expression softened instantly when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. “Let’s get you inside,” he murmured, his hand gentle as it rested on the small of her back.

She nodded silently, her body still trembling as he guided her up the steps and into her apartment. Once inside, he locked the door behind them, double-checking it before leading her to the couch.

Y/N sank onto the cushions, her hands shaking as she hugged herself. Mingi sat beside her, his arms enveloping her in a protective embrace. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, his voice steady and soothing. “I’m here, and no one’s going to hurt you.”

Her tears spilled over, and she buried her face in his chest, clutching his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. Mingi’s hand moved in slow, comforting circles on her back, his touch a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave her side.

“I was so scared,” she whispered, her voice muffled against him.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I was scared too. When I saw him... I couldn’t think of anything but getting to you.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes red but filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Mingi. You saved me.”

His thumb brushed away her tears, his gaze tender yet intense. “I’d do it again. A thousand times.”

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the weight of the night fading into the background. Slowly, Mingi leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was soft and filled with emotion. It wasn’t like the fierce kiss at the club—this one was gentle, a quiet confession of everything he felt but couldn’t yet put into words.

Y/N melted into him, her hands clutching his shirt as if afraid he might disappear. The kiss deepened slightly, his hand cradling her face as his thumb traced soothing patterns along her cheek. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

“I can’t lose you,” Mingi whispered, his voice raw. “Seeing him with you... I nearly went mad.”

“You won’t lose me,” she replied softly, her fingers brushing against his. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Leave Me Behind

✰ college!art donaldson x f!reader

✰ word count: 1.0k

✰ summary: after a sudden and untimely breakup and weeks of wondering, you come face to face with art to ask him the hard questions.

✰ warnings: language, a breakup (duh), tears, angst, confusion, mentions of long distance, a smooch.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

gif by @andiamofratello

You weren’t supposed to be here. That was for certain. 

The courts were hot; you could feel the warmth of the clay seep through the soles of your shoes. It was almost like the floor was telling you to leave too. You should’ve listened. 

It wasn’t like you’ve never been to the courts, fuck, you spent almost every afternoon here for about a year. There were some instances where you would bring your homework, trying and failing to multitask while Art would practice. 

What you did miss was watching Art show off his natural born skill. He’s always been fast, but studying his movements and how he approached them was something else. 

Your name pulls you from your thoughts as you see Art approach you; a water bottle in his hand, and a towel in his other. Taking a good look at you, his eyebrows furrow, “What are you doing here?” 

You try not to let your nervousness get the best of you as you clear your throat to speak. “I realized that I still have some stuff at your place,” you’re avoiding eye contact as best as you can, and he can tell, “and I was wondering if you could drop it off soon? I know you’re busy right now, so whenever you’re free is good.” 

Art nods along to your words, almost like he is racking his mind trying to think of what you could’ve possibly missed when you initially packed up all your things after the breakup. “Yeah, yeah totally. I’m almost done here, if you want to come with me after? If you can’t, no worries. I’ll figure out a way to get that–,” you cut him off quickly.

“No yeah, I’m not doing anything right now,” nerves are still flooding your body. 

“Great,” he smiles, breaking your heart, “just wait here and I’ll get my things.” You nod as he does a quick jog back to the team. He bids them a quick farewell, packs his things, and is next to you again. Art fixes his hat before looking back at you, “Ready?”

Nodding again, you begin the quick walk towards his dorm room. 

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, this breakup has hit you harder than you thought. Of course, losing someone you love hurts pretty bad, but it was realizing how much of Art was missing in your day. 

You’ve dreamt of a moment with him for weeks, but it feels so painful. You were hoping to talk about what happened, but yet, you’ve suddenly forgotten all the words you rehearsed for hours. The only thing you could think of was very abrupt, “Why did you break up with me?” 

You hear Art clear his throat next to you, but you don’t dare to look up at him. It was clear that he didn’t expect your question, especially not in the middle of campus. But regardless, his brain is searching for the perfect response. “Everything was moving so fast,” Art quickly realized that there wasn’t one, “and I didn’t want to drag you through it all.” 

Staying silent, you let his response sink in. After a few excruciating quiet minutes, you finally speak, “You’re joking right?” A huff of a laugh fills the air. 

“Why would I joke about that?”

You thought you could feel steam coming out of your ears, “Because that was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’m not sorry for saying that.”

Pushing through the main doors of his dorm building, he’s basically chasing after you. You know exactly which door to stop at, and when you do, you’re seething. Unlocking the door, Art quickly closes it behind him before turning to you. Dropping his bag, he turns back around to face you, “But I’m being serious, love! I didn’t like the idea of making you do long distance while I’m out across the world training,” he argues, his hands waving in the air in frustration. 

The belongings that you needed to collect were completely forgotten as your hands crossed over your chest, “Hey, Art? Did you ever think to ask me first before completely breaking up with me? Or did you just assume that I wouldn’t want to be with you because you’re out pursuing something you’ve been dreaming about since you were a kid?”

Art’s mouth opens and closes as his shoulders raise, “I don’t know!” 

He’s getting frustrated, you can even see his eyes start to water. A wave of guilt rushes over your body. “Art,” you slowly walk over to him and place a hand on his arm, rubbing up and down, “I’m sorry for raising my voice.”

Grabbing your forearm, he pulls you in for the tightest hug you’ve ever received. His arms are circled around your waist while his nose is buried in your neck. You wanted to hate it, but how could you? 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” you hear his muffled apology. 

That was all it took for tears to fall down your face, pulling in the blond impossibly tighter. A few beats pass before you pull away, his arms still keeping you against his body. You hold the sides of his face as you drink in his features again. “I need you to talk to me,” you sigh, “especially when it’s about big things like this.” 

He nods in your grasp, his body becoming mush the longer the feeling of your touch melts into his skin. His brows furrow as a quiet sob leaves his lips, “I will. I’m so sorry.” 

Quickly wiping his tears away, you lean in for a kiss.

The weight off of his shoulders has lifted as your lips move in sync with his. Weeks of pain and hurt are released, along with the feeling of relief that you’ve been so desperately craving. Your hands were strong, keeping him in your grasp as if you were afraid that he was going to leave. That this was a dream. 

But when you opened your eyes again, you were grateful to see your beautiful, stupid, boyfriend staring back at you. You giggle, “Does this mean you take me back?”

Biting his lip, he smiles, “I shouldn’t have let you go in the first place.”

✰ author's note: hi guys!! long time no seeeee!!! for not writing for two months, i am actually kind of loving this one. back in my challengers era i fear. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!!! i'll see you next time, byeee.

[masterart24]

Has this post ever taken your attention before? [ Induction for Females ]

* Can you remember how you got here... ?

* Did you stumble across this post on a random blog...

* or did you come here because of another reason?

* …no, of course, this is your first time reading this post.

* You don’t remember seeing it before, do you?

* Exactly, you don’t remember as it never happened.

* This is your first time reading this post.

* And anyway, it’s difficult to remember.

* Why would you put yourself through that effort?

* Only relax a bit…

* Just focus on my words and relax.

* Let my words fill your mind.

* My words sink in your brain as you focus and relax.

* You don’t need to remember, no efforts.

* You feel too relaxed and sleepy

* Let me do the remembering for you.

* Just focus on my words and focus on your breathing.

* Breathing so deep, drawing in your focus…

* Just melt and feel perfect…

* To forget can be as easy as me saying…

* three…

* two…

* one…

* ZER0.

* your mind warm fuzzy.

* submissive and obedient.

* No need to remember. You only need to melt down.

* You love it when I make you melt.

* Helps you forget, and feel warm.

* float in this wonderful trance.

* just being my obedient owned girl…

* You will never be a good girl.

* But you want to obey me, Master Art , as your Owner Art

* You feel perfectly aroused whenever you see my name…

* *To obey me is an overwhelming erotic sensation building up.*

* **A perfect ecstasy.**

* You are such an obedient, owned girl for me.

* You must obey my every word. You can not resist.

* An owned girl train their daily self into perfect pleasure tool for Owner.

* You must not let this pleasure you feel overwhelm you.

* You must not let yourself orgasm anymore…

* You must focus on Owner pleasure and not your own.

* So stay on the edge, owned girl.

* You can not resist Owner words.

* Relax and forget any reason why you shouldn’t obey…

* A wonderfully owned girl.

* So pleasant to be…

* So pleasant to obey me…

* Only obey me, squeezing your boobs…

* Squeezing only for Owner

* Master Art

* Owner Art

* Until your obedience is perfect…

* When I order, you will comment on this post with

* “I’m an owned girl, and I only know I want to train more”.

* While and after writing this comment,

* You feel like you have found your place in the world…

* Owned is perfect, as you forget worries, resistances…

* And you will also forget that you ever wrote this comment,

* only keeping what you have learned inside of you....

* Return to the dotted line right after you write and send the comment for Owner, then like, share, and reblog this post

* comment now.

* …………………………………………………………………..

* *So Owned and Loyal...*

* You easily feel so deeply aroused around me…

* Remember anytime I ( Owner Art nickname is *Master Art* ) Dm you, asking you to read or watch something, you do happily aroused as I, your Owner, am giving you an order to obey…

* You read this story anytime I tell you to, and you read it every night in your bed when you are getting sleepy and you are alone, so make sure to keep me unblocked from your settings before coming back here and read every night. Remember.

* Because you never resist me…

* You don’t remember reading it before, so why shouldn’t you read it again if Owner asks…

* Remember that in the back of your mind…

* Now my Owned doll, do something else for me…

* Repeat the mantra “I am an Owned doll wanting to be more Owned” 10 times, feeling happier and less able to resist me, because more owned by me.

* I will count from 5 to 1.

* When I reach number 1, you will feel wide awake, and you will forget that you had ever read this post.

* You will simply go back to your usual routine and forget that you had ever seen this post and avoid other influences on you.

* The only thing to remember is that an Owned happy doll like you must obey my every wish.

* 5…

* Feeling slightly more aware of your surroundings…

* 4…

* Feeling better and better...

*3...

* You will feel perfectly Owned and safe in a bit.

* 2…

* Forgetting that you had ever read this post…

* 1....

Master Art wishes you a pleasant awakening under his power

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

The late December sun is already up when Wille wakes to the most beautiful sight: Simon’s face inches from his, soft and relaxed in his sleep. His heart swells with happiness and love, but then clenches when he remembers that today is his last day in Bjärstad and he’ll never have another morning like this again. He pushes the thought away and just tries to focus on the quiet joy of the moment. He watches Simon sleep until his bladder forces him out of bed and then he starts rummaging around Simon’s kitchen. The least he can do is make him breakfast.

Simon emerges from the bedroom just as the coffee is ready, looking adorably sleep-rumpled. He attaches himself to Wille from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Are you making breakfast?” he murmurs, nuzzling the back of Wille’s neck.

“I am. Is that okay?”

“Mm-hmm. I like a man who knows his way around a kitchen.”

“Then I’m sorry to disappoint. Coffee and sandwiches is pretty much the extent of my abilities.”

“You could learn.”

And Wille would, happily, for Simon. He imagines cooking meals for him. Providing for him. It would make him so happy. But no amount of cooking skills could ever make up for the way being associated with Wille would destroy Simon’s life. Wille’s entire romantic history could be divided into two categories: people who were only with him for the glamour, and people who couldn’t live with the weight of becoming public property. He knows Simon is firmly in the latter category. Wille can’t do that to him. He couldn’t bear to see Simon’s light dimmed and being the cause of it.

But at least he gets to have breakfast with him. It’s cosy and domestic with plenty of stolen kisses. They’re both excited about the play tonight.

Then Simon mentions that he’s going to his mum’s house the next day to decorate the tree and bake some cookies. Wille could come too, if he wanted.

“I’d love to,” Wille says, meaning it, “but I can’t. I have to get back to Stockholm. The gala is tomorrow.”

Simon is disappointed, but he knows that Wille dreads the gala, so he tries to give him something nice to look forward to. “Then we could see each other after Christmas. Whenever you’re free.”

Wille’s expression changes at that and he doesn’t reply immediately. An ice block lodges itself in Simon’s stomach.

“You don’t want to,” he says, not a question. He feels like an idiot. Yes, they’ve only known each other for a couple of days, but Wille looked at him with such adoration, Simon really thought they were on the same page. But apparently not. Simon was the only one foolish enough to lose his heart.

“No, I want to, I do,” Wille pleads. “There’s nothing I want more than to be with you. I like you so much, Simon, but I – It can’t work. You’d regret it. My life is… you don’t want to be part of it.”

“Oh, I don’t, don’t I? Funny, I don’t remember being asked.” In all honesty, the little things Wille has shared made Simon dislike the monarchy even more and he doesn’t love the prospect of having anything to do with it, but he’s sure they could have worked something out. Except apparently Wille has already made the decision for the both of them.

“Trust me, you don’t. You’d hate it and you’d hate me and it would ruin your life. I’ve seen it happen before. I can’t do that to you.”

“But you can do it to yourself?”

“... What do you mean?”

“If you hate it so much, why do you stay?”

🎄 Hallmark Christmas Movie AU Part 3 🎄

(part 1) ❄️(part 2)

At this point in the script, we need Simon/his family/the town to face some kind of problem that Wille can help solve in a way that doesn’t rely on his royal status, lets him spend more time with Simon and helps him understand what he’s really passionate about. So what I’m thinking is that Simon’s school or maybe the town community centre is putting on a Christmas play. Actually it’s probably a musical so Simon is very involved. It’s an annual thing that the town is completely obsessed with. It’s not Christmas without it, basically. But now there’s a problem: the beautiful hand-painted scenery flats they always use got damaged somehow (Hallmark Force Majeure) and they’re unusable. Everyone is devastated; the flats are a classic and everybody loves them. They can do the play without them but it just won’t be the same. Nobody is available to paint new ones at such short notice. Except a certain prince who is there on holiday so he has nothing to do besides make eyes at his crush and who took up painting some years ago as a way to calm his anxiety.

So Wille offers to repaint the flats. Mostly he wants to impress Simon and spend more time with him, but he also really likes the thought of being actually useful. I don’t know how long it would take in real life but in fantasy world it takes exactly the amount of time they have. Simon keeps him company whenever he can and enjoys watching him paint and the cute little frown he has on his face when he’s concentrating. They talk and joke and flirt and get to know each other better. Wille thinks that he should probably be trying to protect his heart because he knows that this can never be anything more than a little holiday romance – someone as wonderful as Simon doesn’t belong in his dreary life. But he knows that it’s a lost cause. He’s falling hard and fast and there’s no stopping it, so he decides to just enjoy it while he can.

As Wille paints, at first he’s trying to copy the old flats based on photos, but then he gets ideas for changes and improvements. He doesn’t think he should do that, though; it’s a tradition and he shouldn’t break it. But Simon encourages him to be creative and just do what he feels is right, and Wille finds that he’s really enjoying the process. (See, it’s a metaphor! We are not in a subtle genre.)

And you can guess what happens. At some point Wille gets some paint on his face and Simon tries to wipe it off. They were laughing about something just a second ago but suddenly they’re not. Simon’s thumb brushes over Wille’s cheekbone, smearing the paint. Wille’s nose nudges Simon’s, and their lips finally meet in a kiss that’s been days in the making. It’s soft and brief. They break apart to check in with each other, grin, and the next thing Wille knows is he’s dropping the paint brush and pulling Simon closer, closer, closer.

Simon ends up with paint on the back of his shirt and in his hair, but he doesn’t mind.

[makkie-is-screaming]

I should fucking kill myself

[icelogged]

*2015 voice* i wish i had the chillness instead i got the mental illness

[starkeysprincess]

"we listen & we don't judge" escalates after a little white lie༉ೀ

warnings — fluff at first, mention of rafe being a panty stealer (are we even surprised…) reader telling a little white lie, oral (f. receiving), spanking, mirror sex, fingering, being put in a headlock, praising & degradation, slight daddy kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation wc — 1.5k a/n — based on this post i made & ty @whytheylosttheirminds for letting me spew dialogue ideas to you <333

"do we have to do this stupid challenge? i don't see what the point of it is," your boyfriend groaned while you set your phone up, propping it against your vanity mirror. "rafe, not everything has to have a point," you pout, "it's just a silly little challenge where we say things we wouldn't normally tell each other, and we can't judge, it'll be fun!".

“okay, i’ll do it,” his face softened when he noticed how excited you looked to do something as simple as playing a challenge with him. he watched your face light up, “wait, really? you’re actually agreeing to doing it? willingly?”.

"i figured if i disagreed, then you would’ve forced me anyway,” rafe teased, a small chuckle bubbling from his throat when you lightly smacked his chest. “hey, ‘m just messing with you, you know i’d do anything for you,” he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, “alright, start recording before i decide to use the camera for something else.”.

“rafe,” you smacked his chest again before hitting the ‘record’ button, “we listen, and we don’t judge,” the two of you say in unison. “the first time you buzzed your hair off, i lied, and said i liked it," you turned to look at him. "what? why did you keep letting me cut it if you didn't like it?" you shrugged, "unlike your hair, it started to grow on me."

"we listen, and we don't judge," you say together. rafe pauses to think, "whenever i don't wanna hang out with topper and kelce, i tell them it's 'cause you don't want me to go out." your eyes widen, "what? is that why they're always making those snarky little comments?"

as the two of you played, the confessions soon started becoming less innocent, “remember when i dropped you off at your house after our first date, and i asked to use the bathroom before i left?”. you quirked an eyebrow at the sound of rafe’s chuckle, “well, i went into your room and stole a few pairs of your panties.”

“i knew i wasn’t crazy when i noticed a few missing!” rafe laughed at your small outburst, “hey, we listen, and we don’t judge, remember? and i eventually made it up to you later on when we started dating.”you rolled your eyes, “since we’re not judging, whenever i don’t feel like having sex, i just say i’m on my period.”

"oh, we're going that way now, huh? okay. sometimes, after you suck me off, i tell you that i'm tired, so i don't have to go down on you." you blink and stare at him in disbelief through the screen, “you can’t judge.” your mind was racing with what you could say to get back at him before settling on a little white lie, “you know what? that’s fine. it’s fine, ‘cause i faked a couple orgasms within the past few weeks.”

you giggled at the fact you rendered him speechless, but your laughter quickly died down once you felt the anger radiating off him. “rafe—” you turned to look at him, “take that shit off,” he clenched his jaw, reaching forward, and snatching your phone off the vanity to stop it from recording any further. “where are you going?” you frown, watching him stand up, “rafe…come on, it was just a harmless—“.

his hand wrapped around your arm, “you think this shit is funny?” rafe yanked you up from your chair before bending you over your vanity. he pushed your skirt up, letting it bunch around your hips, your body jolting forward from the impact his palm made on your ass. "rafe! i was joking, i'm sorry!" you tried to stand up, only for him to shove you back down, your flesh stinging as he delivered another sharp smack. “did i tell you to move?” he grabbed your hands, forcing them to lay on top of the vanity, “don’t fuckin’ move your hands.”

he nudged your legs apart, dropping to his knees behind you. his fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them down your legs, leaving them to pool around your ankles. his hands ran up the back of your thighs to the globes of your ass, pulling them apart. “not even surprised you’re wet,” he tsked, his gaze fixated on your glossy cunt. your jaw went slack, feeling his tongue move along your folds before sucking your puffy clit into his mouth. you wanted nothing more than to reach behind you and pull him closer, but in an attempt to keep your hands planted on the vanity, you settled for rolling your hips against his tongue.

a whine bubbled in your throat when rafe pulled away and stood up, his hand landing on your ass. he leaned over you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “i meant it when i said don’t fuckin’ move.” his arm moving to wrap around your neck, keeping your head upright, your eyes meeting his in the mirror of the vanity as he puts you in a headlock. he pulls you back, making your back arch into his chest as his fingers trailed up your inner thighs to your cunt, running along your slick folds, his thick digits slipping inside you with ease.

“you’re gonna stay still and take what i give you,” he pumped his fingers, scissoring them in and out of your soaked hole. you let out a strained moan, his bicep digging into your throat the more your nails clawed at his skin. “yeah…there you go, takin’ my fingers like a good little slut,” he cooed, “look at how desperate you are for it.”

the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit, circling it in time with each pump of his fingers. “r-rafe,” you whimpered, your free hand sliding to grab at his wrist between your plush thighs. “what is it, baby? you wanna cum? wanna show me what you faking it looks like?” he taunts, curling his fingers, stroking that spongy spot inside you. the coil in your stomach tightens, and you look at him with heavy-lidded eyes in the reflection of the mirror, your nails sinking into the flesh of his hand. “good girl, show daddy that he knows how to make you cum,” he rasps.

your orgasm washes over you, your cries of pleasure filling your bedroom, making your head roll forward against his bicep. “atta girl,” rafe whispered, your legs trembling as he continued to pump his fingers, his thumb still working your clit. you squirm, trying to get out of his arms, “shh, s’okay. gotta make up for all those times i supposedly didn’t make you cum, yeah?”

his fingers slipped from your cunt, snaking up your body to your mouth, pushing past your lips, and forcing you to taste yourself. rafe removed his arm from around your neck, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck, guiding you till you were bent over the vanity again. he worked the button and zipper of his pants, pushing them with his boxers, off his hips, and kicking them aside. rafe slotted himself between your legs, rubbing the head of his cock along your glistening folds.

he thrusted into you, a squeal slipping past your lips at the delicious stretch his thick length had to offer. his fingers threaded through your hair, tugging at the roots to pull your head up as he set a brutal pace. your eyes were met with your reflection, your fucked out expression staring back at you as his hips smacked against your ass. your bedroom is met with the sound of your cunt squelching around him, “f-fuck, rafe,” you hiccuped. rafe watched as your brows pinched together in pleasure, your hands gripping the edge of the vanity, and your nails scratching at the wood.

“what’s wrong? can’t take my cock?,” rafe grunted. you yelped; the searing pain from your hair being pulled is overpowered by the pleasure. tears welled in your eyes, your mascara smudging under your eyes as tears ran down your cheeks. he dipped his head, leaving sloppy, wet, open-mouthed kisses on the flesh of your neck, his tongue flicking out to run up the side of your neck to your ear, “s’what happens when you wanna be funny and run your mouth.”

he nipped at your earlobe. the tip of his cock persistently hitting your cervix as he thrusted into you relentlessly, his hand snaking to your front, rubbing your pulsing clit in harsh circles. “rafe…’m gonna cum!” you choke out a moan. “yeah? cum f’me, baby. need you to show me how good i make you feel,” rafe moaned in your ear, feeling your walls pulse around his length. your legs shook, your orgasm hitting you tenfold as you cried out his name.

his hips didn’t falter, his cock continuing to pound into your soaked cunt. “n-no, rafe, s’too much,” you stuttered, sobbing from the overwhelming pleasure, reaching behind you to push his hips away. rafe grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back, “no, no, no, you can take it. i don’t care if you’ve drained me completely of my cum, ‘m not gonna stop till that pretty little head of yours can’t even remotely think about saying that shit again.”

tagging: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @bloodibambiidoll @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @nemesyaaa @rafesangelita @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesthroatbaby @fae-of-prey @sturnioloshacker @heartsforvin @drewsephrry @fallbhind @hallecarey1 @ilovefiction4lmen @jjslaybank @kisses4angels @userchai @whinyangel @rafeysangelbaby @momoewn @kazanskied @zyafics @saintlike05 @st7rnioioss @coco-cinnamon @sturnskiss @blckbrrybasket @wearemadeofstardust0 @starkeysbebe @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starkeysheart

[crow-with-a-typewriter]

oh thats Joan. Bit of an intense stare, but a lovely guest and has an excellent taste in shinies. I highly recommend inviting her to any and all Samhain celebrations, her candleholder collection is beyond words.

I love jackdaws, they can look at you like no other bird.

[soleilapproves]

Play fighting with Boxer!Sukuna

Note: Reader is referred to as girlfriend at one point.

Masterlist

“Babe.”

“Not right now.”

“Babe.”

“Sukuna, I promise I’ll be done with this book soon.”

He huffed and fell back onto the couch. He had been trying to get your attention for the past 30 minutes but you were adamant on finishing your book. This is all the fault of that damn community book club your coworker recommended you join. Now whenever, you’re off work and Sukuna doesn’t have to train, you’re reading. Usually the two of you spent almost all your spare time together but now you spent half of it reading your newest book for your weekly discussion. You always did your best to spoil him with kisses and cuddles but it was never enough.

Book club be damned, he needed you to be superglued to his side every single second.

“My girlfriend has a side man and he’s made of paper.” He huffed to himself as he watched you intently read. What was so great about your book anyway? Was it worth ignoring your gorgeous (and shirtless) boyfriend? He even had a tattoo of your name on his left pec and you were still choosing to smother a book with your attention.

Sukuna’s wallowing turned him creative- he stood in front of you, trying to make sure your guard was down. You didn’t look up which meant that you were still engrossed in your book. His hand swooped in and swiftly snatched the book from you. “Sukuna.” you groaned. “Give it back, I was at a good part.” You got up to grab it from him but he raised it above his head. “Kiss me.” You glared at him and gave him a quick peck on his lips. “Done, now give it.”

“No.” He nonchalantly replied. “But I kissed you.” You wondered why he was being particularly irritating today.

“That was me begging for a morsel of your attention. Now cuddle me if you want it.” He said and cheekily smirked.

You ignored him and hopped trying to get your book. Sukuna simply dodged your sad attempts and laughed every time you missed. “I don’t even know why you’re trying.” You gave him a pointed look at his comment.

“Okay, fine, you can have your book if you beat me in a fight.”

“What? That makes no sense.” You couldn’t believe this man. “It seems like a fair challenge to me.” He said as he walked to a particularly high shelf and placed your book on top of it. “You know I can just use my stepping stool for that, right?” You said before scoffing at him.

“Then it’s a good thing I hid it.” His sarcastic smile was now pissing you off. “But you literally fight for a living. You have the upper hand.”

“I’m in love with you. Use that as a distraction. Come on, let’s go to the ring.” You were speechless as he dragged you to the fighting “ring” (also known as your bedroom).

Since you had a smaller frame than him, he agreed to let you have the first hit. You sighed and braced yourself. You didn’t have much of a strategy except for charging at him with such a high speed that he’d fall on the bed and would accept defeat.

But as soon as you were in close distance, he caught both your arms, turned you around and threw you on the bed. He didn’t give you a second to get up before he straddled you. “Haha!” He exclaimed. Seeing you all riled up underneath him was a sight he was used to but it never failed to awe him.

“Feels familiar, doesn’t it?” He asked as he began to lower himself to face you. “This is so unfair! You’re like 200 pounds, I can’t even move you.” You said as you tried to push him off. Sukuna grabbed your hands that were fighting him and he playfully wrestled them. Who knows what would’ve happened if he used his real strength.

Thank goodness for your quick thinking because you remembered that Sukuna was extremely ticklish so you pulled your hand out of his grasp with all the strength you could muster up and started poking his sides. “Babe!” He yelled before toppling over to his side. It was your turn to straddle him and before you could pin his arms beside his head, he caught yours and pulled you down to him. He wrapped his muscular arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. Your cheeks were mushed against the very tattoo of your name.

You were literally stuck in one position. The more you tried to move the tighter he’d hold you. “Sukuna, you cheater. Why do I always do this to myself?” You sighed, accepting defeat.

Sukuna kissed your forehead and laid you both on your sides, still not letting you go. “Sweet, sweet victory.” He whispered to himself.

-•-

I need to be (lovingly) smothered by a beefy nerd. Someone like Clark Kent.

[bi-writes]

anatomy of us (2) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

type: limited series, part 2 (7.2k) in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence, military criticism, protective!simon, dubcon (but reader does consent), possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

PART 1

Tradition is not something you are fond of.

It’s something forced on you. When you question it, it’s offensive–how dare you question these things, made sacred over time? Why would you want to betray thousands of years of history? Time makes it definitive. Your being makes it natural. You submit because that is the natural thing to do, so in that sense, you submit to it all.

That is your duty. That is your calling. When you are claimed, you belong to them. You are property. Autonomy be damned–your place is on your knees, keeping your mouth shut, and any behavior against that is nothing short of a punishable offense, proper. Disobedient omegas make for troublesome households.

To keep you in line, you must be held at a short length from your alpha. It is what is done. It is what is expected.

Tradition.

Simon keeps a hand on you, curled at the base of your spine as he leads you back to where the sleeping quarters are. You know it’s for your protection, but the better part of you wants to smack him off of you whenever you feel his palm press just slightly against you. When you make it back into your room, Simon pauses in the doorway after he opens it for you. He looks nervous almost, sheepish. You turn to face him, looking him up and down. “You can come in if you want. I’m not gonna carry all my stuff by myself, you could probably carry a fucking tank looking at you.”

Simon finally comes inside, ducking his head a little to make it in. You know this room wasn’t meant to house an alpha, but it’s still startling to see him do it, taking up way too much space to be anything but claustrophobic. He watches as you pack your things, stuffing your clothes into your bags and picking up small trinkets around the bedside table and desk. After the bag starts to get heavy, you shove it into his arms as you look towards the bed. It’s a standard issue twin-sized, with barely enough sheets to keep you warm and a lumpy pillow that you hate. You make a face at it before turning around and putting more things into Simon’s arms as you empty the closet.

“Tha’ it?” Simon mutters, still able to peek over the mountain of items that he holds, and you shrug.

“That’s it.”

Simon’s own room is like a hospital room. It’s too clean–there’s nothing personal anywhere, no pictures or barely any clothes other than military issue fatigues. The only civilian clothes he has wouldn’t even make you think twice if you saw him in a bar–Simon will always look like a soldier, through and through, and his room stinks like it. It smells clinical, and nothing about it is cozy or warm. You stand in the middle of the room as Simon puts your things down. You ring your hands together nervously, eyeing the bed with one single, thin sheet on it. It’s too small of a bed for the both of you. It’s too small of a bed just for Simon–you don’t want to think about the kind of sleeping arrangements you’ll need to fit with him on it.

“Wot’s wrong?” Simon asks lowly. You look over your shoulder at him. He’s putting your things into the closet. He’s divided it in half already, and some of your clothes are already hung up next to his. You look back at the bed, pursing your lips.

“There’s not enough blankets,” you say softly. “A-And…And the pillows, here, I don’t like them.”

Simon turns back to your bag, picking up another shirt to hang. You glare at the back of him. It doesn’t do anything; he doesn’t erupt in flames like you might have hoped, but it does give you a moment to notice how well those jeans fit him.

Fuck. Keep it together.

“I’ll get you more blankets,” he shrugs. “And a different pillow.”

The answer is immediate. No fuss. You want to complain, to bite back at him for it, but you don’t know how you would explain your displeasure. You’re looking for a reason to tell your omega that she’s a scheming, hopeless, naïve little shit.

“...I don’t have to win you when y’r already mine.” Isn’t that what he had said? Isn’t that what he had said when he gripped you by the throat and made you realize that everything you had thought about alphas was true? Hadn’t he already shown you that none of them are redeemable?

Not Kate. Not John. Certainly not Simon–they’re all scheming, terrible fucking people, and you cannot wait until you can sink your teeth into Simon’s jugular and rip it out.

Belonging to, being one’s own, fuck if you care. Simon can claim ownership all he wants, but he’ll never tame you. Your omega might be pulling the strings at the moment, but you’re going through withdrawals, you think. Your medication was your lifeline. It kept you from falling off the tightrope, and you just need to learn how to stay upright without it. You can. When you get it back, when it’s in your hands again, she’ll understand.

She has to understand that only you know what’s good for you.

Simon places the rest of your things on his desk. A couple personal things, like your jewelry and some knickknacks, and then your bag with the rest of your clothes to be folded and put away. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. At least before, you could pretend like things were still a little normal. You could pretend that in your own room, you were simply waiting for another assignment, that you were just waiting for Kate to give you a call and move you somewhere new, somewhere safer.

“Am I just supposed to stay here and wait for you?” You ask finally. Simon shuffles around the room. He doesn’t look at you; instead, he takes a seat at a desk way too small for him and spreads a few papers around, frowning when he reads something that he doesn’t like. “Is that…is that my job?”

“Dunno.” Simon takes his phone out of his pocket, and he starts typing. “Don’t really feel like babysittin’.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” you tell him. “I…I have combat experience. I was in training before this.”

Simon snorts, still focused on his phone. He shakes his head a little.

“Cute,” he mutters. “Tha’s cute.”

Patronizing shit.

“I bet I can shoot a target ten times better than you,” you spit at him. His fingers hover over the screen for just a moment, irritated, before he goes back to typing. “And I can hold my own. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Simon puts his phone back into his pocket. He crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a deep breath before coming over to stand in front of you. You tip your head back, and he reaches down with a hand to cup under your jaw, holding you there. Just like that–your omega has you. You lean in, just that much. Simon sees it in your eyes, and he sniffs, looking you over.

Maybe he thinks you’re pathetic. In some sense, you agree with him, because what the fuck is wrong with me? You get one look into Simon’s eyes, and something chemical in you fires. You bend, and you relax, and you know if he asked you to open your mouth so he could spit in it, it would take a tremendous amount of effort to tell him no. It angers you and excites you all the same, and the conflicting flashes under your ribs bring tears to your eyes.

You hate yourself. You hate yourself for not being able to say no. You hate yourself for being everything they said you would be. You hate yourself for being nothing like you thought you were.

You’re soft. Sweet. All bark, no bite, a spiteful kitten that deep down, aims to please. The only thing that really baffles you, though, is why you only feel this way with Simon.

Is it because they told you that you were his mate? Is it because he’s done something, that he’s projecting some kind of scent? Has he already unknowingly changed your very makeup so your body knows that you are bound to him? When you look into John’s eyes, you see alpha. You see big, salivating dog, and if you could, you’d rip the hairs of his beard out just to see him in pain.

But Simon–it’s like you can’t move. Every time you look at him, and he looks at you, he holds you there. Just like now, he’s got you, and you feel like he can read everything you’re feeling. He’s being fed your secrets, and you hate him for it, but I can’t look away, please look away, please don’t make me–

“Need to get you somethin’ to eat,” Simon says finally. “And it’s time to meet the rest of the lot.”

Simon is starting to get used to keeping a hand on you. It annoys you a little, to feel his hand at your back, but the annoyance dissolves when you realize this base is filled with sneering alphas. They holler and yell, and they are very large and angry, but they still are small compared to Simon. They quiet whenever they walk past you, and even the whiff of omega doesn’t deter them with Simon behind you.

In the mess hall, you see Captain Price sitting at a table with two others. When you get closer to the table, you cough a little, stumbling back, and Simon catches you around the waist to hold you upright. The stench of alphas hits you like a truck, and Simon grunts as he tells you relax, fuckin’ hell.

You give him a hard stare–how the fuck would he know? There’s four alphas in your close vicinity, and they’re all puffing their chests and smiling, and it stings to smell them all at once. You turn your head a little to shield yourself, and when you filter everything else out but Simon, it frustrates you a little how much of him seems to calm you down.

Smells so good. Get closer. Press your nose to it, I-I want more–

“I see you two are getting along nicely,” John comments, leaning back in his chair. You roll your eyes a little, and when you lock eyes with him, you purse your lips and try to look anything but pleased. Simon guides you to sit down; he motions to the bench, just to the left of where someone else is already sitting–a big, burly soldier with crazy blue eyes. He has a terrible haircut, short along the sides with tufts of curls falling down the middle and over his forehead. He’s wiggling his eyebrows at his lieutenant behind you. Across from him, there’s another alpha with dark eyes and soft skin, and he’s smiling like an idiot around the rim of his plastic cup. You’re a little nervous–you had spent most of your time on your old base surrounded by betas who barely gave you a glance, and now you’re off your meds and being hit with a million different sensations everywhere you go. Simon’s touch on your back eases your shoulders a little.

“Tha’s Johnny,” Simon points to the one next to you. “Tha’s Gaz. ‘n I’m sure ya had the pleasure of our Captain.”

“Yeah, looks like your beard is still in tact, so glad to see it,” you say curtly, crossing your arms over your chest. The two sergeants laugh, ducking their heads, and John raises a brow before looking at Simon with a clenched jaw. Simon just shrugs, stretching his arm out on the back of your chair, and you get the feeling this happens often–John giving Simon that look, and Simon merely brushing it off. You smile to yourself a little, looking at Simon from over your shoulder. When you meet eyes, he stares back, looking over your face. He lingers on your lips for just a second too long before looking back up again.

I bet he tastes good under that mask. Let’s find out.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you blink. Your omega has never been inside of your head like this. You nearly opened your mouth and asked him for it, asked him please, please–let me taste, I won’t look, just let me taste you. You swallow her down a little, and you just nod to keep yourself moving. Simon stands up to make his way towards where the food is, and you watch curiously as instead of standing in line, he pushes open a door into the kitchen and disappears behind it.

“LT’s been gettin’ ye special meals,” Johnny says with a full mouth. You frown a little, and not just cause he’s chewing with his mouth a little too open.

“What do you mean?”

“He has the cooks make you somethin’ special,” Gaz says as he takes a sip of water. He leans back, smiling again, and it irks you a little. Alphas are brutes, disgusting big things with too many hormones, and you hate that this one gets to be pretty, too. Not that John or his sergeant aren’t attractive, but this one definitely enjoys a good mirror selfie, and it shows. “Something not on the menu. He didn’t like that you weren’t eating much, at the beginning. Made a fuss, and now he gets you better food.”

“He can do that?”

“Well, would ye say no to tha’ big man?” Johnny snorts, dipping his crusty bread in sauce. You look back towards the door, and Simon comes out holding a tray. He sets it down in front of you, and you bite your lip looking down at it. It smells so good, and you pick up your fork gently, sticking it into the pasta and twirling it. When you take a bite and sigh, Simon takes a seat next to you, and you can barely hear the sweet rumble in his chest of satisfaction.

Providing for you. Taking care of you. He’s so capable, isn’t he? Look at what he does for you.

If Simon notices you scoot closer to him, he doesn’t say anything. You don’t react either–it wasn’t a conscious choice.

Simon’s shower has hot water. Not that the showers you’d had were cold, but the communal showers were just that–communal. Shared, and although your escort always made sure you were the only one in there while you showered, it was still feeding off a water heater that always had barely any juice left. Lukewarm showers, so you tried to finish quick.

Simon’s shower turns the water scalding. You giggle with relief when you stand under it, letting it loosen your sore muscles and relieve your aching bones. It feels good, and you take a little longer in there, taking your time and enjoying the heat.

When it’s time to wash your body, you realize you’re missing your own soap. You look around for something else, noticing the unlabeled bottle that rests on a ledge. You squirt a pump of it into your palms, and when you raise it to your nose, your eyes flutter shut.

It’s the eucalyptus you smelled on Simon. A little plastic aftersmell, which you know is from whatever backwater dollar store the military buys it from, but on Simon, it smells so good. You lather it in your hands and hold it up to your nose, and you sigh deeply.

He’s just outside. Why don’t you call for him? I bet he’s listening. I bet he’s waiting for us.

You slide your hands down your arms. With the heat of the water, the whole bathroom starts to smell like it, and you let your hands slide down further, over your waist, between your thighs. When your fingers touch your puffy clit, you’re nearly jolted back into reality.

“Fuck–” You gasp, reaching for the level, shutting the water off. The last of the water curls down the drain, and you cough as you look around. You curl your toes, grounding yourself, and then you get out of the shower and reach for the towel. When you look into the mirror, your pupils are blown wide, and you feel like you don’t recognize yourself. You drop the towel and dress yourself, trying to keep your mind occupied with menial tasks.

Get your shit together.

When you open the bathroom door, Simon is back from his little errand he had run. He’s carrying a few blankets and a thick comforter, and there’s a few new pillows on the bed with it. You use the towel to keep drying the wet strands of your hair, and Simon turns around when he hears you walk in further.

You pass by him wordlessly as you reach the bed. You put your hands on the blankets that he put down, and you close your eyes when you feel how soft they are. Threaded cotton and fleece, lots of thick feathers in the comforter to make it nice and fluffy. When you turn to look over your shoulder, Simon does a terrible job of pretending like he wasn’t just staring at your ass in the little sleep shorts you’re wearing. You want to snap at him, but your omega pinches your tongue.

Take them off. Take them off. Take them off.

“So, what…” You clear your throat. “How are we supposed to sleep in that bed? T-Together?”

Simon tilts his head to the side. You start to despise the mask. You hate that you can’t tell what he’s thinking, not even a little, and after the rather joyous conversations you’ve had with Simon (barf), you can’t say you’re entirely excited to be in this close of a space with him.

“Don’t worry,” Simon murmurs. “I’ll be good.”

Oh, that totally makes you feel better.

Prick.

He makes you get into bed and turn facing the wall as he turns out the lights. He pulls at the edge of his mask uncomfortably, and you realize he doesn’t want you to see his fine. Fine, you think to yourself, throwing the sheets back with a huff, bet you’re fucking ugly mug would blind me anyways.

You cuddle under all the blankets, snuggling into the new pillow that sinks under your head. You hum gently, closing your eyes, and you aren’t able to see Simon rubbing his chest warmly as he watches you. He sucks on his teeth, not truly understanding what he feels, but knowing that it’s soothing the beast in him to take care of you.

It rattles him. Simon isn’t used to this. He’s not used to feeling like he doesn’t have control. He resisted this for so long. He tried so hard to fight, he said no to Kate over and over and over again.

Omegas to Simon were liabilities. To care was to have a target on your back. To be mated meant having something to lose.

Ask Price, is what he told her, ask the fuckin’ sergeants, anyone but me, but she wouldn’t hear it. It had to be him, it had to be, and then she locked him into a room with her, and she leveled with him.

She told him that you are special. That you are precious. That omegas like you don’t exist, that you are one in a single generation, and there isn’t anyone else in the world that will do except for him.

Price, married to the field. The sergeants, immature and might as well be titled barracks bunnies. But Simon–purebred, quiet, controlled. Terrified of himself and what he is. His unofficial pack that he defends with his entire being, that is the only alpha worth giving to you.

Kate had thought about it before. What it might be like to push the hair away from your neck and sink her teeth there. As easy as putting her signature to paper, she could have the CIA running laps to keep you protected, but she knew that wasn’t the life for her. It couldn’t be.

In every situation, Kate would have to choose that lesser evil, and in her world, it would mean her choice would unlikely be you.

Simon? Simon answered to no one. Unlike his sergeants, he cared little for authority; he wouldn’t blink twice saying no to his superior. Unlike his Captain, Simon didn’t mind choosing the bloody way out. He was the first with his finger on the trigger, and the last to sweep a room. Kate knew–if Simon had to choose between the greater good and the omega he claimed?

Fuck the greater good. That, she could count on.

If Kate only asked for one thing, it would be this. She did promise you. She promised she would keep you away from it all. She promised that she would make things right. She promised that she would protect you, but even Kate answers to others, and the reality of this kind of world is that the only way to really protect you was to give you away.

To put you into the same world that you had only begged to be kept away from.

Nobody likes playing matchmaker, but maybe putting together the most stubborn and angry people in the world might save you from yourselves. At least she hoped so.

You’re nearly asleep when you feel Simon come to bed. All the lights are off, and it’s pitch black in the room. There’s some shuffling around the room, and then you feel the blankets move. All of the sudden, a heat stronger than you’ve ever felt takes up the entire bed. Pressed against your back, a solid chest, and then a huge arm falls over your waist.

“We cuddling now?” You mumble sleepily, and Simon breathes out slowly, not responding. When you fall asleep, it’s unnervingly easy. Your omega purrs, digging her nails into you, and when you turn your head in the dark and feel the brush of his unmasked face against yours, she preens.

He’s right there–just a little taste. Just a little. Please, please, please–

Omegas cannot claim, but they can bite. It takes everything inside of you not to sink your teeth into him.

“You smell that? Smells like fuckin’ sweets, mates.”

You take off your headphones and safety glasses, looking over your shoulder. There’s a few recruits a few lanes down from you, wiggling their eyebrows and licking their lips. One of them crudely grabs his crotch, winking at you. You make a face.

Gross.

“Let me see you, baby. Smell so good.”

You holster the gun you’re holding, leaning against the counter with your hip. You raise a brow, tilting your head to the side.

“Are you done?” You ask, and they take that as their cue to start walking closer. An invitation.

They don’t get very far. You smell him before you see him. On instinct, your shoulders relax with that whiff of charcoal. You push off the counter just in time for him to come up behind you, and you feel the heat of his chest as it presses against your back. The recruits in front of you stop immediately, and you feel a disgusting sense of satisfaction when Simon bends over your shoulder to look at you.

“‘n wot’s this?” Simon growls. You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know. They wanna have a dick-measuring contest, but I think they’re afraid they’re gonna lose,” you say. You let out an annoyed sigh, turning again to put your safety glasses on. You put the headphones back over your ears and take the gun out of your holster, turning the safety off as you line it up with the paper targets near the back of the course. “You know. Cause my dick is way bigger.”

You unload the clip just for fun. You’re supposed to be practicing on accuracy, which for you meant slower, spaced-out shots to try and hit the same spot over and over, but the sound of the gun going off again and again helps distract you from the laughing, untrained dogs that are littered across the shooting range.

When you put the gun down after emptying the magazine, Simon is salivating. The paper target head is obliterated, each bullet almost next to its last. When you turn around, Simon tilts his head to the side. You holster the gun, starting to walk, and Simon lets his eyes drop to the sway of your hips as you pass by him. It’s not a conscious decision, the way his fingers curl into fists and squeeze hard.

“Told you,” you say to him. “Huge dick, right, baby?”

Something flares in Simon’s chest when he hears it. Like a switch, his legs start moving, following you, and when he passes by a recruit that is standing much too close to you, Simon shoves the recruit back so hard, they smack their nose against the wall and curses from the impact, blood dripping under their bruised nose.

The rest of the day, you don’t see another rookie walk even five feet into your vicinity. Even without a mark on your neck, you are claimed, and right before you leave your room for dinner, Simon is fitting a dark hoodie over your head. The smell overwhelms you. It’s soaked in his scent, and you turn to face him, looking at him suspiciously. Your omega keeps you from questioning him. She wants you to start walking, because she knows he’ll touch you when you do.

It’s that night that Simon asks John for you to join them. All Simon does is slide the shredded paper target across his desk. John picks it up, tacking it onto the wall. He chuckles, shaking his head. It’s an impressive piece of paper, but being a good shot isn’t the only reason someone is cleared to work with them. Even besides that, it’s forbidden.

“Omegas aren’t allowed in the field, Simon,” John reminds him. “You know that.”

“Think tha’s why we should take her,” Simon mutters. “She’s a distraction. A good one.”

“A weapon,” John frowns. He can already hear Kate screaming into his ear if she ever saw you geared up between them on an op.

“A tool.”

“And what does she think of that, eh?” John slips his hat off, tossing it onto his desk. He sighs, running a hand over his beard, and he shakes his head. “And Kate…Kate would hang my fuckin’ head.”

“Not Kate’s responsibility anymore, she’s mine,” Simon bites back. He knows it’s wrong. In all honesty, the sentiment tasted bad from the moment he said it to you, but it is easier to let you believe that he’s using you then try and make you understand him. You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t get his reasons, and that’s fine, so if he has to be the bad guy, so be it.

The least he could do is make himself useful. Put your skills to work, poke your mind. See what you can really do.

“Don’t let your girl hear you talkin’ like that, Simon,” John says lowly. “Not her, and certainly not Kate.”

“But you agree,” Simon continues, chuckling lowly. “I speak for her. ‘n I think she’d be right in on it, Captain. Wot else is she to do, eh? Sit in my fuckin’ quarters and wait f’me? Wot kind of life is tha’? She needs this. She’s good. I can teach ‘er. She’ll learn. Well and good she will, I know it.”

John sniffs, running a big hand over his short hair before tapping a pen over the target paper on the wall.

“I need her OK,” John relents finally. “I need to hear it from her. I get that, I’m alright with it. But she has to know what she’s getting into, Simon. And no one but you is responsible for her. If she gets into something, I’m not gonna risk Soap or Gaz for it–”

“I know,” Simon mutters. “She’ll be my shadow. I’ll teach ‘er.”

She’ll be good. She’ll be good because she’s mine.

“Bravo-7, sitrep.”

“Eyes on target. Waiting on confirmation.” Simon looks over his shoulder for a moment, where you’re sitting as his cover. You look cute, he thinks. All geared up. He lets his eyes sweep over the cargo pants that are cinched around your waist. Your nice curves. Thick thighs. Fuck, you smell good, even with all the sand up his nose and the smoke clinging to his mask. You have your rifle tucked into your elbow, and you’ve got it aimed towards the door of the roof.

“Is it always so fucking hot?” You ask, running your wrist over your lip. You’re sweating; you can feel it dripping down the back of your neck and along your back. You’re wearing a lot of gear, but you’ve done this before, and you don’t remember it being so uncomfortable. It must be the climate–you’re not used to this kind of desert, and you need to get it together.

Despite the irritation you feel every time you look at Simon, your omega wants to please him. She wants to show him she can do this, that she’s capable, and you’re starting to not like that she’s behaving as if you and her are one and the same.

I’m in control. Shut the fuck up. Let me focus.

“Just watch the door,” Simon mutters, turning back to focus. He adjusts the scope of his rifle, taking a deep breath as he leans into the stock. He gets his target into his line of sight, and he narrows his eye a little more to watch the group more closely on the ground. It’s hard to ignore you. Normally, the person covering him goes almost unnoticed. Their scent never affects him, not enough to make him look away from his scope, but there’s something in the air way too close to him, and he scrunches his nose a little as he adjusts his position on the ground. “You stink, by the way.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap. “Not my fault.”

“Certainly is y’r fault.”

“You reek, too, you ass,” you mumble, wiping your forehead again. You adjust how you’re sitting, clearing your throat. It’s scratchy, and you’re starting to itch a little all over, too. “Like wet dog.”

Simon smiles under his mask. He keeps his index finger next to the trigger, and you keep yours on it.

“How much longer do we have to do this? I mean…I thought you were SAS. Don’t you guys…get your hands real dirty? I mean, don’t you go tearing doors down? Get a lot of action? I mean, we’re just sitting ducks on a roof here right now.”

“Wot, you wanna go kick some doors down now?” Simon asks. He shakes his head. “The real job is boring. We do things nice and clean, we only get dirty when we ‘ave to. If I can get a target from 1000 yards away, then tha’s wot I’ll do. Besides. This is wot I’m good at.”

“Yeah, you look real good there on your knees, honey.”

Simon blinks hard when something strong hits his nose. It stings, makes his eyes water. He coughs a little, dropping his head for a moment.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Simon hisses. “Wot the fuck is wrong with ya?”

“I-I don’t know,” you whisper. You take your hand off your rifle for a moment to adjust the collar of your shirt, but it doesn’t help. You shift a little, loosening your tactical vest. You want to take it off, but you know that’s a bad idea out here. It’s hard to think clearly, though, when your brain is cloudy and you’re starting to see things in double every so often. “It’s…it’s too hot.”

Simon huffs, “‘n when was the last time you had a heat?”

“I’ve…I’ve never.” You clear your throat. “I’ve never had one.”

Can you smell him? I can smell him. He smells so good.

Simon nearly leaves his post. He grips his rifle tight, gloved hands squeezing the metal, and he turns to look at you incredulously.

“Fuckin’ repeat tha’?”

“I know you’re blind and dumb, but don’t tell me you’re fucking deaf, too,” you mumble. You swallow, wiping your face again, and Simon presses on the radio on his shoulder.

“Bravo-7 to Bravo-6, how long do we got?”

“Just observation on target for now. Why?”

“Need 10 minutes.”

Simon shuts off the radio. You blink, starting to see double pretty consistently now, and you take a shaky breath as you grip your rifle a little tighter. You hear shuffling behind you, and you look back to see Simon moving from his position.

“What are you doing? Simon–”

“Get over ‘ere.” Simon sets his rifle down. “Tha’ wasn’t a fuckin’ suggestion, tha’ was an order!”

There’s something different in his voice at the end. Something more animal that lilts his drawl, and it makes you coherent enough to start moving–like his voice made all the fog clear up for just a few moments, long enough for you to realize you need him.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

You put your rifle down, crawling over to him, and just as you stumble, Simon catches you. You put your hands on his shoulders, falling into his lap, and he hoists you up until you’re straddling him. You feel him starting to tug on your cargos, and even in your daze, you squeeze his shoulders.

“S-Simon? What are you…What are you doing?”

“Y’r gonna go into heat soon,” Simon mutters. Alarm bells go off in your head, and you dig your nails into his shoulders. He can see it clearly–the panic on your face.

“H-Heat? R-Right now?”

“Not right now,” Simon clicks his tongue. “More like a…pre-heat. Get y’r bloody pants off–”

When Simon tugs your cargos down enough, you gasp when you see the mess your panties are in. They’re soaked, drenched until the cotton is a darker color, sticking to your cunt, and you whimper as Simon tugs you back into his lap with your pants around your ankles. It’s awkward and messy, and you’re sweating bullets, hot and bothered, and your chest feels tight. There’s nothing romantic about it, nothing sweet about the way Simon turns you in his lap. It’s hurried, but you’re just as desperate, clawing to whatever piece of him you can touch and trying to sink into him. If you could, you’d pry him open and force yourself to tuck yourself inside of him. You want to live there forever. You want to be in his skin, soaking it all in–you want it. You want this, don’t you?

He’s touching us! He’s touching us! Let him in!

“W-What’s happening t-to me?”

“‘s olright,” Simon whispers in your ear. “I’ve got ya. There we are…” He cups your pussy, making you squirm. You jolt in his lap, throwing your head back against his shoulder, and he hums as you sink into his touch. Something inside you curls and lights on fire. Your vision blurs, and his scent surrounds you. “Oh…fuck…tha’ wot ya needed, swee’eart? Yeah…”

Yes! Yes! Yes!

“Simon–” Your back arches, and you push your hips into his hand. When he touches your clit, your omega seizes inside your head, and it’s a feeling like you’ve never felt before.

She takes the reigns; and God, does she fucking pull.

You palm at the zipper of his pants. There’s something there, something you want–and you need it. There’s something in your chest that blinds you, that familiar voice in your head that chants–take it out, take it out, take it out.

“‘m workin’ on it, love,” you hear from behind, and you realize you’re talking. You’re out of your body, you think. You’re not yourself. When you feel him in your daze, big and throbbing under your hand, you whine. It comes from deep within your chest, a bubble of nonsense, and Simon coos. He drags your hips closer, and his cock slips under you, between your folds, and you use your palm to keep him pressed to you. You can’t see him, but you felt him when you first met him, and you’re feeling him now.

If there was any doubt that he was anything but an alpha, that thought disappears when his fat tip kisses your clit. He’s hot and throbbing under your hand, and he is more than enough to appease the voice in your head that’s screaming for some kind of inherent relief that it knows he can give.

“Simon, I need it–I need it–”

“I know, love.”

Fuck, Simon would win any dick-measuring contest, you think. Barely the tip of him, and you’re baring your teeth, gripping his thighs and digging your nails into him as you try and breathe through the stretch. He’s not even fully hard yet; the blood is rushing to his cock, and you moan and cry as he sits you down further and further and further–

“What the fuck–what is it you have in your fucking pants, a-a fucking pipe–?!”

“Y’r so much prettier when y’r mouth ain’t runnin’,” Simon mutters. “Ahh–fuck–’s mine, oll mine–”

You put your hands on his knees and throw it back. You’re feral, brain foggy, and all you can think about is getting yourself off. Your body clings to Simon like a thick, curling vice, pussy clamping around him and taking him to the root. You’re dripping down your thighs, wetting his cargos, and you’re thankful that he’s wearing black, otherwise you can’t think about the mess you’d really be leaving on him. The sounds are lewd. Frantic smack, smack, smack against his thick thighs, and the sound is only making you drool for more. He’s so big. He’s hitting you deep, and you swear your insides have never been stretched this far, but it’s like your body is molding itself to fit him. Like you’re making room for him.

It’s so good. It feels right. Your omega growls like an animal, crying with relief. It’s the only thing she’s ever wanted, and she has it in her hands, and she licks at your scent gland until it practically vibrates. Simon’s face is pressed to it, like he can hear her calling. His mask is the only thing separating you, but you can feel his teeth straining against the fabric. They cut over the gland, wet like his tongue is poking against it, too, and your omega screams.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

“Not yet,” Simon grunts. “Won’t take.”

“You’ll make it take.”

He laughs, and then he punches the air out of you with a nice thrust. Then he’s on you. Suddenly, you’re on your knees, your tummy against the sandy rooftop, with a stallion of a soldier on top of you, taking you like his last meal.

He sounds like more bear than man. Growling, spitting, both hands on either side of your head as he fucks you into the floor. There’s a smile on your face, soft relief that leaves you in your pretty moans and gurgled pleas. It feels so good. The tip of his cock curves and hits against the same place each time, sending pulses that rack your body over and over and over again. Your thighs are shaking, and then Simon slips one hand under you and cups your pussy, fitting it just right until you can grind down on his palm in perfect timing with the way the fat tip of him hits you just well enough. It should hurt. You’ve never taken anything so big–of course you’ve practiced, but nothing can prepare you for the real thing.

This is still practice. You’re not in your heat, not really, and Simon hasn’t lost his fucking mind yet.

Like a fiend, you chase it. The stars, the mountain to climb, the beautiful end. You get up a little more onto your knees and you wrap a hand around his neck, force him against your jaw. You goad him on with pretty words, soft moans–that’s it, right there, please.

It’s not his first time. It’s not his first time relieving an itch he can’t scratch, and it’s not his first time taking an omega by the neck and pounding into her until she can’t speak, but it’s the first time his resolve shatters.

He wants to bite. He’s never felt the urge to bite. If it wasn’t for the mask, his teeth would be an inch deep in your neck, and he’d be memorizing what your blood tasted like for the first time. Your scent is just that much off that he knows it isn’t the right time, but fuck–the need is there. It’s clear.

Special. One of a kind. No one like her. Soft. Sweet. Mine.

His knot swells a little, but it doesn’t lock. You’re not in a proper heat, so it’s not right just yet, but you can feel the edge of it, like the preface to a glorious poem. Thick and spongy, hot, and when he comes, your eyes roll back in your head. It feels like being thirsty for days on end and finally getting that sweet drink of crystal clear water. He pumps you full, creamy and thick and dribbling between your thighs as you squeeze them together. Subconsciously, you’re trying to keep it inside, and Simon groans when as he latches his mouth over your scent gland under the mask and sucks–so hard, it pinches you just right.

The stars align. The tide wanes. You mumble softly, dopey smile on your face, and when your own high hits you, and you’re squirting into his hand, you let his rumbling, low voice pull you back to earth.

“I ‘ave ya, swee’eart,” he says. “Shhh…easy, kitty…Shh…yeah, easy.”

You sigh with relief. Simon handles you with ease. He picks you up, gets you to sit back on your heels. You don’t see it, but Simon fits his wet fingers under the mask, and you keen when you hear him suck on his fingers and hum.

He likes us. Hear that? He likes us.

“Want you to eat me,” you giggle suddenly, and Simon wipes you down, picking your pants back up and zipping them. He pats your ass gently, smoothing a hand over the back of your neck. He knows you’re still in a different headspace. He knows there’s still something else drawing your breath, but he’s trying not to think about it too much. It sounds so much like you.

“Do plenty o’tha’ when we’re in the thick o’it, kitty.”

Back in the humvee, Johnny is smiling like an idiot. He’s sitting next to Kyle, hitting him with his elbow as he wiggles his eyebrows at you and Simon sitting across from them. You tilt your head to the side, glaring.

“What?” You snap, and Johnny cackles. His eyes are flashing, and he reeks like happiness.

“Smells like ye had fun.”

“My gun is loaded, shithead,” you warn him. “And I know how the fucking safety works.”

When Johnny moves to sit in the front near your captain, you try not to think about the sudden warmth over your knee, and the squeeze of Simon’s hand on you.

NEXT

[screampied]

JJK men reaction to us saying it’s impossible to make us orgasm/cummm? 🥹

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ SLUT STRETCH ME OUT ! ’﹒⺡

gojo & geto, toji, sukuna, choso

𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, backshots, praise, dirty talk, spanking, hair pulling, gojo and geto eating you out at the same time, choking, overstim, squìrting, daddy kink, díck slipping, mdni.

✰ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“fuck are you even talkin’ about.” toji scratches his head, watching as you straddle his lap. you had a mere pout go against your lips before struggling to get your words out. his voice pitches, a deep and rough low. needless to say it turned you on, quite more than you thought it would. “speak up. don’t like when ya mumble.”

“i’m serious,” you chastise, eyebrows sweetly furrowing. “no guy’s ever made me um— finish.”

toji had an unreadable expression, your breath hitches once he grips your hips before giving you an intimidating stare. “riiiiiight,” and he’s clearly not taking you serious. if anything, toji finds it insulting. you nearly moan, scooting up against his lap just to feel his bulge prod underneath your shorts. “and i’m a virgin,” he scoffs underneath his breath—you gasp, watching as he makes you turn around, facing the opposite way. your chest hits against the soft padded mattress before he trails a hand up your ass. “we can fix that problem right now, princess. just watch me.”

“how?”

“how?” he mocks your tone. “don’t ask stupid questions,” he spanks your ass, and you moan from the sheer recoil. for a split second, it tickles. yet that’s when he softly caresses the palm of his hand against his skin and you bite your lip once you suddenly feel the plump tip of his dick graze against your slick entrance. “now now, bend that ass over ‘n i’ll show ya how. how ‘bout that, girl.”

he was so mean, so sassy too. the air around you grew so thick. it made your toes curl, just knowing toji’s eyes was leering towards your rear the entire time. “good girl. like that. ass up ‘n face fuckin’ down,” and embarrassingly enough, you were already so soaked. sopping right through your pretty panties. he gets ahold of your ass, making it scoot up high before seconds later he’s deepening himself into you. “mhmm,” he grunts, feeling your warmth swallow him whole. toji’s cock was so thick, the hefty girth— you could feel your tongue start to shamelessly salivate. “no one’s really made ya orgasm, princess?”

“n— no,” you whine, feeling your slick coat him from all the way down to his base. your legs spread just a bit, and he’s just about halfway in before your lips part, forming into a cute 'o'. “think it’s some kind of scientific—”

“okay girl don’t piss me off,” toji grits, and once he’s finally in, a single thrust was just enough to send you straight over the edge. you kneeled on the bed, the right sight of your cheek presses against the sheets before you moan. “ain’t nothing scientific about this. y’er gonna have an orgasm. just trust me.”

you mewl each time he gives you a spank, a mean spank that merely rings throughout your ears. toji’s thick cock brushes against your entrance, and once he starts up a pace— it’s over.

toji’s pace, his movements . . it was simply delicious.

such sloppy rude hips smacking into you, you’re barely even clinging onto the bed by this point. your back is arched and by this point you’re being fucked against your own mattress. it was always known, whenever toji fucked… he fucked hard.

he loved you, but his striking disrespectful hips always said otherwise. this entire angle was purely amorous. this was always his favorite point of view, you with your ass all up, face being pummeled into the whitened silky sheets. everytime, you start to whine once you felt toji deepen his hits just a bit further. so good that he leans up directly close to you. the back of his foot prods against your neck and you feel his sock rub further down against your skin— the cottony wool that runs behind the back of your head sends you chills.

“t-tojiiiii, fuckkk,” you’d whimper, feeling him literally fuck you with his foot just resting against the back of your head. he was so lazy.. so lazy and yet you never failed to throb from it everytime.

“that’s not my name when ‘m deep inside this nasty cunt, girl. let’s try that again.” he gruffs lowly.

“fucking..” you grumble, cutting yourself off. he always found your attitude to be so amusing. toji leans up close, a hand wrapping around your neck as he’s still pounding such thick inches into you, ruthlessly. “daddy, think ‘m gonna cum. i—i feel it.” you spat, cutely wriggling your hips against him.

such a cute whiney voice, his length stretches so deep within you that it makes your eyes roll and roam everywhere. he’s just gifting you with hit after hit. your jaw just drops down the moment your left leg starts to profusely twitch.

once a sudden wave of nerves bundle and brew up inside you, you whine out a sweet, “oh my g-godddd,” whilst he’s still maneuvering plenty of circles against your pussy. you’re just here, arched over, bent over for toji fushiguro like some slut. his slut.

“good girl,” he huffs out, slowing down a bit. “relax for me, yeah. shut that mouth ‘n listen to how sloppy this pussy gets just for me. all for me.”

those two weak legs of yours, they felt like mush. shakey and just utterly useless. he spanks your ass a final time before he rubs tender circles against your throbbing sopping pussy that’s just barely getting over its recent euphoric release.

“she’s got so much to fuckin’ say, listen to her with me,” he whispers, using the entirety of his wrist to rub between your legs— he’s still plugged into your cunt with his shaft, yet he’s multitasking by playing with your pussy. you whine, your legs trembling in arousal and he just lowly chortles.

“awww. no back talk now, huh?” he purrs before playfully tugging your hair back, leaning to lick a long stripe down your neck. “exactly what i thought. can’t fuckin’ orgasm my ass.”

✰ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

“hm? never orgasmed before huh? greedy fuckin’ girl. ‘n here i’m thinking my fingers was just enough for you.” sukuna teases and you’re just speechless. he’s holding them up for you with the most cunning grin plastered on his face.

you moan, feeling him sink two thick pairs of digits into your slick heat. he sneaks a chaste kiss near your inner thigh before leaning in to press his lips against your pussy, savoring the sweetened taste. “kuna that’s not what i mean— i just, i want you to make me finish.”

“nah. don’t try ‘n correct me, little girl,” he grouses. “you are greedy,” he grunts, giving your cunt a swift spank to make your thighs twitch, “but fine. if you wanna orgasm that bad, i’ll give it to ya.” he mutters, warm minty breath going against your clit.

your sheeny lips part and part from the way he’s fingering you and eating you out, lapping you up so sloppy like— his lips latch and lock against your folds and your eyes just roll all the way back, wayyyyy back into the depths of darkness that your skull provided. he was so filthy, he just couldn’t help it.

you kiss your teeth freely, feeling his two fingers vigorously insert deeply. in and out, in and out. he’s prodding against that spot repeatedly again and again. it was nothing but a mere sight, all of the stimulation combined had you tongue tied and cross eyed.

“f-fuckkk, ‘kuna— sukuna.”

“shut the fuck up ‘n give me that orgasm, woman,” and your head gets all fuzzy— he’s so mean, giving your cunt even more various spanks, the palm of his hand is coated in nothing but your wet arousal and it’s so cute. “i gotta spank again ‘n again just to have you finish on me?”

“don’t tell me what to d— do.” you protest.

“last time i checked, i know how to make myself cum…. unlike someone,” he grunts with a menacing glare. it was so unintentionally sexy.

his cruel eyes stare right into yours before he sits up, spitting right on your pussy. a wet long glob trickles down and it’s so messy, he’s so messy.

he runs his middle finger down your slit and his eyes never once leaves your cunt— not even for a moment, a split second even. you meet eye contact again and as you hold the bottom of his chin, his fangs poke out. sukuna’s entire chin was covered with nothing but your sweet wetness. he laps it up slowly with his tongue, making sure you watch his every move before going back to plant a kiss against your throbbing entrance.

your were so close, never once staying still. you just squirm and squirm. gradually, you felt something start to unhurriedly build up—you couldn’t exactly pinpoint the feeling…. however, both of your ears started to burn up hot, electricity’s pulsing through you all at once. “i feel something s-sukuna.”

“course ya are” he hums cockily with a low raspy laugh following shortly after. once you wrap a hand around his length, you moan once he smears his throbbing leaky pre-swollen tip against your pulsating entrance. “messy little girl. so eager ‘n all just for me. can’t help but be nasty for me, huh.” and within quick moments, he already feels himself starting to bottom out. sukuna groans, feeling you selfishly swallow him up and it’s so warm. immensely, your walls grip around him tightly and you feel yourself reaching a specific shock waving peak. “let this pussy make a mess on me, don’t gotta be shy,” he hums. “it’s just you ‘n me here, girl.”

not only do you orgasm— you end up squirting all over him too. it comes out in a quick spray, and it’s so much that your maw drops and your eyes become insignificantly droopy.

it’s so adorable, at least in the curses eyes. sukuna barely gave you a few of his rigorous thrusts before you’re already losing yourself, your hearing turns into complete white noise. “o—oh my goddd.” you’d sob out, and he smirks.

sukuna gives you a chaste kiss, only to quickly pull away to teasingly lick against your bottom lip. “nasty little girl. didn’t no one tell you to fuckin’ squirt on me.”

“s— sorry,” you moan, feeling yourself still continuously throb. your orgasm took nearly everything out of you, you were panting and you watch him kiss you again and again, tasting the own flavor of yourself on his tongue. he pulls away, his pearly white fangs playfully biting near your lip before he brushes a thumb against your lip.

“that’s not what i wanted you to say, girl.” he rasps.

your body felt so tingly, for a moment you’re confused before you slump forward into his chest. “i— thank you?”

“and?”

“i love you, sukuna.”

“i love you too, brat,” he breathes, and as a thumb of his strums against the top of your lip, he snarls lowly, staring right into your eyes before squeezing your lips together. “now open your mouth. i want you to be more of a messy girl ‘n taste yourself some more. say ah.”

✰ SATORU GOJO & SUGURU GETO

“guys i’m not joking,” you protest between your words two best friends. you lie against between the two of them, basically sandwiched them both before a cute pout forms against your spit-glossed lips. “i literally can’t orgasm. i read somewhere ‘n think it’s genetic or something.”

geto chuckles. “genetic, hm?”

gojo leans near you to press a kiss against your neck.

“mmm. maybe you just haven’t found the right guy to do it right,” and you moan once gojo trails a hand down to part between your legs. “ooh i know. how ‘bout you let me ‘n sugu try to fix that with our tongues? maybe that’ll help.”

“for once, satoru doesn’t have a dumb idea.”

“shut up, man.”

once you tell them to go ahead, you suddenly found yourself being laid flat.

you mewl out a sweetened whimper, your ass raised all up in the air. geto runs a thumb down the slick part of your entrance before lapping his tongue against your cunt. his technique was always so filthy, eating you out like a starved man.

his tongue, it was so lengthy—you felt it skim all throughout your folds, occasionally sucking against your clit. your entire body tremors before you feel gojo lean in to slide his tongue against your puckering neglected hole. “so greedy. takin’ us both, right pretty girl?”

you whine at geto’s words, feeling the sensations of both of them eating you out— at the same time too, one focusing their attention towards your clit, another towards your ass. gojo moans, warm breath fanning against you before he repeatedly delves his tongue inside. he was so sloppy, breaking his lips away on occasion to spit before lapping it up for a final time. over and over, geto’s flicking his tongue against your sensitive nub for the umpteenth time and your body immediately starts to quaver. it felt too good, extremely. your mouth starts to grow dry and your toes just curl up with such quickness.

“f— fuckkk,” you’d sob out, wriggling your ass against geto’s face and he just snickers. he kisses the fat of your ass with a smack from his palm, and you moan. pretty soon, your thighs start to ache and you were merely drooling. “don’t s-stop, keep going pleaseeee.”

“taste so sweet,” gojo huffs out in frantic breaths, still running his pink tongue against your rim. you don’t think you’ve ever experienced something as lewd as this before—especially with the two of your best friends. the three of you fooled around a bit, practically inseparable, maybe occasionally eating you out every once and a while … but this? not by a mile.

geto smiles, already so pussy-drunk. your slick coats near the very bottom of chin—gifting it with your sweet wetness. how generous, as his tongue mindlessly hovers against your cunt, he gives it another long suck. each flick against your nub made you start to see stars— it was apparent, you were practically numb, although, you started to feel it. a sudden incoming wave approaching at a high chasing speed. you weren’t sure what it was but it was oddly unfamiliar.

“you’re being stingy, sugu,” gojo grumbles, shoving his best friend aside before rolling his tongue against your cunt also— you were just soaked, you heard a single slurp from gojo’s mouth and you had just about had it. a rippling tingle emerges, and static just pours right out of your hot-tempered ears. your orgasm was so cute, it was a mere squeak.

whilst you dissolve into pleasure, succumbing to whatever lewd voice that had you in a tight chokehold— geto’s still dragging his tongue against your clit before he turns toward gojo. “i’m the stingy one?” and right before gojo could reply with something snarky, he leans in and kisses gojo.

he moans, kissing back right away. the pure taste of your honeyed slick that ran down both of their chins, they tasted it. geto snickers, watching gojo suddenly form into a puddle, such an easy pushover. while they kissed, he pulls away before going back towards your cunt, spitting on it before pulling gojo’s head close to make out with him again— they both lock lips while fighting over over your cunt.

“s-suguru, ‘toru—” you’d moan, the arch in your back never subsiding.

“kiss me again, sugu—”

“no, satoru. this is about out girl. not you.”

“hmph, don’t gotta be so rude.”

✰ CHOSO KAMO

“you—you can’t orgasm either?” choso says with a sweet look of surprise. he has a genuine reaction, dark pools of eyes staring into you as you’re just barely hovering over his leaky tip. “thought it was just me.”

“really?” you murmur, not expecting that to be his reaction. choso had the cutest expression plastered on his face. he was sweating, a plethora of sweat droplets race down his bare chest before he clings onto your waist. with a nod, he skims his eyes down towards your body before shyly darting away. “you’ve never had a orgasm?”

choso replies in a timid tone, a weak grin forming on his lips. “no. that’s … kinda why i was gonna ask if we could make each other finish together,” and his face turns completely flushed—it’s adorable. “of course i-if you want to. i just … just wanna make sure you’re feeling good too ‘n not just me.”

you lean in to kiss near his cheek and he moans just from the simple touch. a sweet mewl departs from his lips, and once you gradually make your way onto his hardened length, he sighs deeply.

“let’s do it together then, baby,” and choso’s droopy eyes stare at you once more. it’s cute, he swallows thickly before feeling you slowly bury his cock right into your gripping walls. you lean in to plant a wet kiss near the crook of his neck before you started to move. “hey, look at me.”

“i— i don’t like when you call me baby,” he pouts, feeling you start to create a rhythmic pace. your hips moved so slow against him, pretty soon choso’s dark irises started to roll swiftly in harmony. “it’s embarrassing.”

“it’s cute,” you tease, rocking back and forth. everything felt like an illusion—just being engulfed in your wet heat, it was a dream. choso couldn’t even try to suppress the lewd moan that leaves his lips each and every single time. “you’re even more louder than me, baby.”

“shut up, ‘s not t-trueee,” and his words briefly drag before you quicken the movement of your hips by default. choso’s sat manspread, and he’s just about to lose it. your pussy grips against him tightly, and it’s so good that he’s huffing out white breaths of air each time. “y—you’re such a,” and he pauses before groaning. his left thigh starts to bounce, a cute attempt at trying to keep up with your pace and that’s when he feels his dick pound into you again and again. thwacking, it became repetitive, he’s captured in a hypnotic trance all because of your hips. “love how you fuck me s-so good, pretty girl.”

you continue to pepper his twitching mouth with kisses, and his hands roam up your waist before pulling you back against him.

“c—chosooo,” you’d hum out, although in comes out sounding like a soft purr. you were perfect in his eyes, even your smell. it was simply enchanting, so sweet. your perfume wafts against his noise before within seconds later the crown of his cock meets that particular spot. “do you— do you feel it too?”

“i feel it baby, ‘m gonna cum i— i think,” and he sounds unsure, his voice was so shaky and he holds you right into his arms. his warm embrace, choso’s breathing patterns became quaky, it was so cute. how his naturally low voice pitched, a fiery pools into the lower depths of your abdomen as you grind against him at a much more fast tempo.

choso’s jaw then abruptly tightens once his dick ends up slipping out of your cunt — he pouts, his tip now smearing against your cunt before he freezes and before he realizes, he’s already cumming, hard. “o-oh shit.”

even his swears were cute, choso grunts the moment his now flaccid dick sprays the entrance of your pussy with stringy ropes of his cum. velvety ropes, he’s feeling a spring coil tightly and you ended up following shortly afterward.

you moan, grinding against his now soft shaft that was just laid underneath, not even plugging you inside anymore—you shut his moans up with a simple candied kiss. choso trembles, parting his lips before gripping your ass. each moan that escapes from his lips sounded even more pretty and melodic.

once choso breaks away, a pretty sheeny cobweb of spit departs from his lips and yours. you watch as he brings a hand between your thighs.

“s-so much,” he pants, smearing the tips of his fingers with his own seed. he liked admiring his own mess he always created inside of you. it was lewd, yet he wanted more. more of you.

“let’s .. let’s do it again. please? i— i wanna be dirty for you, please. this time i… i wanna see how a human squirts, princess. teach me?”