#fuck off and then the last one's number keeps rising and rising this is like the worst one thats actually just screaming fake to my face

[astralsys]

hi again been a bit... uhhh why'd I wanna make this again? oh right talking about random shit. I do wanna get back into some things I left off with some friends of mine, but due to being me and it being a very hard existence things didnt go as planned and I kinda dropped it and lost interest.... which really sucks cause I have so many ideas for where I wanted to take my story ( working on a kirby au of sorts havent sorted out through the entire thing cause my brain doesnt wanna work with me :/ ) that I wanted to actually bring into existence instead of it all just being in my head or a rough draft. maybe I can push myself into gaining interest again by actually working on it again. what I had orginally thought up is no longer what I wanna go with so new things are hard to come up with. off topic from that I have so many fucking games I need to get back to and the game list keeps getting bigger and bigger its gonna drown me at some point :( whyyyyy do I keep doing this to myself.... doom I'm dooming myself this is what I'm doing. and cause I'm me I'm def gonna be forgetting that I made this post in the first place! dont you love being this mess of a person? isnt this FUN?!

[pucksandpower]

Free Fucking Country

Max Verstappen x First Daughter of the US!Reader

Summary: the FIA needs a reality check — you’ve known this since they decided to punish your grown ass boyfriend for daring to say “fucked” in a press conference — and what better way to do this than by taking full advantage of your First Amendment rights … live on camera?

The Texas sun beats down on the circuit. You’re standing off to the side, watching the race from a monitor, arms crossed. There’s an edge to your stance, a tightness in your jaw that no one’s missed, least of all Nico Rosberg.

“You look like you’re going to murder someone,” Nico says, chuckling under his breath. “Who’s the unlucky victim?”

You shoot him a sideways glance, not quite smiling. “Not someone. More like the entire FIA.”

Jenson Button raises a brow from his spot beside Nico. He’s been fiddling with a microphone, but now his full attention is on you. “Ah. Still upset about Singapore, then?”

You roll your eyes. “Still upset? I’m livid, Jenson. They punished Max for swearing. Swearing. Like, are we adults or are we running a kindergarten here?”

Nico and Jenson exchange a look, trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

“They’ve done worse to other drivers, to be fair,” Nico says, playing the diplomat despite the thirst for drama you know is itching to escape.

“I don’t care!” Your voice rises a little, and you realize you’re pacing now, hands flying around in frustration. “They target Max like he’s public enemy number one, and I swear it’s just because he’s honest. They can’t handle it when someone actually tells the truth!”

Nico nods, clearly amused by your rant but trying to stay neutral. “True. Max does have a ... blunt way of putting things.”

“He shouldn’t have to censor himself. It’s not like he was even that bad. They act like he threatened to burn down the paddock.” You huff, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “It’s just so stupid.”

Nico leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what are you going to do? You’re not exactly on the FIA’s Christmas card list either.”

A slow grin spreads across your face, and Nico’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh no. I don’t like that look. That’s trouble.”

Jenson smirks. “What’s she planning?”

“I need a favor,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. You glance over at the camera setup behind them. “Can I borrow your camera for a minute?”

Both men stare at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“You want to go live? On Sky Sports?” Jenson asks, blinking in disbelief.

You shrug. “Why not?”

Nico shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re something else.”

But he steps aside, making way for you to take his place. “Alright, have at it. Just … maybe don’t get us all banned from the paddock, yeah?”

You wink. “No promises.”

Without missing a beat, you step in front of the camera, and within seconds, you’re live. Your pulse quickens, adrenaline buzzing in your veins. The weight of the moment hits you, but it only fuels your determination.

You clear your throat. “Hi, everyone! It’s me, your friendly neighborhood First Daughter, coming to you live from the US Grand Prix. Now, before we get back to the race, I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Nico and Jenson are barely holding back their laughter behind you, but you ignore them, fixing your gaze on the lens.

“Max Verstappen got punished for swearing during a press conference last week. Punished. For swearing. And you know what? That’s bullshit.”

The words fly out of your mouth, sharp and unfiltered. There’s a moment of stunned silence around you as people start to realize what’s happening.

You keep going, voice rising with every sentence. “The FIA is out of control. They’re so focused on micromanaging everything that they’ve forgotten what this sport is supposed to be about. Racing. Competition. Passion.”

Nico’s eyes widen as he leans toward Jenson. “Oh my God, she’s really doing it.”

Jenson just grins, watching in awe. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

You don’t let up. “You want to punish someone for being honest? For being real? Then punish me too, because I’m about to say a hell of a lot more.”

You can see people gathering around, eyes glued to the monitors. You’ve got their attention now, and you’re not backing down.

“The FIA is so far up their own asses, they can’t see what’s really going on. Drivers are out there risking their lives, pushing the limits, and all they care about is how polite they are in a press conference? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You wave your hands around, the frustration boiling over. “I’m sick of this shitty double standard. Max gets penalized for cursing, but the countless times that the FIA has done something much worse? Silence. It’s ridiculous.”

By now, there’s a crowd forming around you. You see a few FIA officials watching from the corner, looking like they’re trying to figure out what to do. You don’t stop.

“If the FIA wants to keep policing language, they should start by looking at themselves. They’re a bunch of fucking hypocrites who don’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a real racer. They’re killing the spirit of the sport.”

Just then, you spot one of the stewards marching toward you, followed by two security guards. You flash a grin at the camera. “Oh look, here they come. The fun police.”

The steward, a stern-looking man with a clipboard, stops right in front of you. “Ma’am, you need to leave immediately.”

You laugh, leaning into the camera, making sure everyone’s still watching. “Really? You’re gonna kick me out for talking? Last time I checked, this is a free fucking country. First Amendment, bitches! Try to shut me up, I dare you.”

The steward’s face reddens. “You need to leave, now.

But before the security guards can even move, your Secret Service detail materializes out of nowhere, surrounding you. They stand tall, arms crossed, ready to intervene.

You laugh again, this time louder. “Oh, you didn’t think about that, did you? You can’t kick me out. What are you gonna do, arrest the President’s daughter on live TV?”

The steward looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s nothing he can do. He steps back, clearly out of his depth, while the camera continues rolling.

You take a deep breath, calming down just enough to finish your rant with a flourish. “So, FIA, if you’re watching — and I know you are — get your act together. Start treating the drivers like adults, and stop with the petty bullshit. Or I swear, I’ll make it my mission to drag you on the broadcast every single fucking race.”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you. You turn just in time to see Max walking up, eyes wide, clearly catching on to what’s happening. He looks from you to the cameras, then back to you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Without a word, he steps forward, wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s sudden, unexpected, but it’s the kind of kiss that makes time stop, the kind that speaks louder than words.

When he pulls away, there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “You always know how to make a scene.”

You shrug, a mischievous grin on your face. “Someone’s gotta stand up for you.”

Max laughs, shaking his head. “Well, you sure did.”

Nico and Jenson are clapping from behind, both of them thoroughly entertained. Jenson leans into the camera, grinning from ear to ear. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N, everybody.”

You step back, still grinning, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The steward looks like he’s given up entirely, and the crowd is buzzing with energy.

Max leans in close, his voice low. “You know you’re going to get a lot of hate for this, right?”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Let them try. I’m not scared of a little backlash.”

He shakes his head, eyes shining with admiration. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m just getting started.”

[auragasmics]

onlyfans creator!toji meeting fan!reader but getting so drunk off of them that he keeps bringing them back & eventually only makes vids with them… *heh*

CAMERA ROLL LOOKIN’ LIKE ONLY FANS!

synopsis! he knows better than to get involved with fans. But upon meeting you, Toji’s found himself in a world where he can only have you—and you alone.

pairings! fan!fem!reader x onlyfans creator!toji fushiguro

cw!3.5k words, pwp, dubcon(?), consensual filming, pussydrunk!toji, doggy style, mean!toji, cunninlingus

mwuahaha, i loved this thirst sm! i couldn’t stop thinking about it!

have a thirsty thought? read my guidelines and start sending them in!

In truth, Toji knew better. While unspoken and better left assumed, it’s still the number one rule amongst fans and creators alike.

The golden rule of never, ever hooking up with a fan. Toji’s all too aware of this, but he’s no saint to abide by the rules. It didn’t help that it was all his friends were recently raving about, claiming that it would boost views—and sales for those with even the slightest glimmer of naive hope in their eyes. 

And when a thought replays like a broken record, it’s only a matter of time before one succumbs to incessant influence—and Toji’s no better. He had it figured out; announce his little plan to all his cock-hungry fans, run their users through an online random generator, and whoever’s name pops up on his screen is his lucky vixen for the night.

But the generator just had to pick you. 

He was blind—or better yet, naive, to the possibilities that could arise from his little adventure with danger. It never crosses his mind that maybe he’d regret the choice of taking down a fan—or maybe he’d fall in love with the idea and add it to his usual lineup. 

But that didn’t stop him from sending you that message and bringing you into his humble abode of a high-rise apartment. That didn’t stop him from fawning over your pretty face and kind attitude, as if you both had forgotten what was to follow through the night.

He was simply so blind to it all that Toji had written off the slim chance of him getting addicted to you.

Until he was. 

Why the memory of Toji slipping just the tip of his cock inside you still lays fresh on his mind and vigorous to his nerves. He remembers how cocky he was, thinking that he’d be the best you ever had, how no one could ever come close to how he imagined fucking you.

But the gummy halo of your cunt enveloped his blushing pink head with a sopping wet kiss, condemning the poor forsaken man down the path of egotistical demise. 

Toji, the Toji Fushiguro was victim to a state that he’d never ventured into before; suddenly his mind was shot blank, his eyes threatening to rest into the dark abyss of his skull and the brawny chest he worked so hard for was rigged with shuddering breaths. 

Within a matter of minutes, Toji was out of his body, out of control, and without a single means of putting up a fight. 

If your pussy claimed his resolve, your body claimed his soul. Every arch, squirm, and jolt gave way to Toji’s heart. He’d even found a serenade within your outpouring moans, every hymn motivating him to his newly found goal. For in that moment, the unmoved Toji was concerned with something he never allowed to faze him—his ability to please.

Toji knew one thing; he utterly had to please you, to bring your mind, body, and spirit to the sheer face of ecstasy. He was always so sure of himself thanks to his past of collaborations, but not a single woman of his past could compare to you. Because, unlike those past collaborations for work purposes, everything that night was genuine. 

The way you whimpered whenever he leaned over for a kiss was real, how your hands clung to every inch of his misted skin was bonded behind the truth, down to the orgasm he had no choice but to sit through because of the suffocating clench your walls bestowed around him. 

The last thing he remembers from that night is the words he drunkenly allowed to fall from his lips, almost begging you to come back. When waking the next morning and found you gone, Toji realised he had to work to earn both you and your trust. 

From that day on, something in Toji has him running ragged on your behalf. All of a sudden, he’s caught up with buying you lingerie he can’t wait to rip off of you, he’s sitting through hours of research to buy the best camera to catch every single moment of filth amidst you two. Why, he’s even gotten into the habit of calling you every morning and every night just to give you a glimpse of the real him. 

A month’s swept by since that momentous night, and within those four weeks—Toji’s reserved at least fifteen of those nights just for you and him. Just this week alone, he “needed” you twice, and tonight would make it thrice.

The third time of making you cum off his tongue alone before he had the privilege of fucking you raw beneath the starry sky. And each time he does indulge in you, he can’t silence the raging urge to leave your pussy plump and dribbling with his thick white cum. 

But he holds back, it’s already an honor to have you raw and he’d hate for something as minuscule as natural instinct to ruin a good thing.

Though it’s that same natural instinct that had him calling you just under two hours ago—and waiting by the door like a new puppy waiting for its owner to return. His friends call him pussywhipped, so immersed in you these days that it’s all he talks about, his newest tease with a pussy that gets so sloppy for him.

Toji could fight back, but he isn’t one to play delusional. Pussy-whipped, that’s exactly who he is and who he’s become. And somewhere deep, deep down in his subconscious, he’s found satisfaction in that. Just a puppy with a—

“Toji! It’s me!”

The pretty croon of your muffled voice has Toji springing off the black leather couch and onto his feet. He looks down at himself—nothing could be more apparent than opening the door and revealing him to wear nothing but black sweatpants.

It’s too late to apply any effort, Toji thought as he twisted the door handle open, yanking the door to greet you.

“Hey Gorgeous, come in,” he hums, his arm racing to lace around the waist of your black leggings. “Hope you didn’t wait too long~maybe I should give you a key soon…”

Returning his regards, You give in to Toji with a swift embrace, linking around his bare waist. “No, I didn’t wait at all. It was like you were waiting—”

“I see you didn’t bring a bag. Why don’t you stay the night…you never do,” Toji interjects as he leans back to close the door. His eyes fall matched to your own, wide and glimmering but afraid to step any further than what’s been established.

Your shoulders give into a heartless shrug, your chin whipping away from his sight as you utter plainly to Toji.

“Oh, I didn’t think you wanted me to, and I honestly don’t care to sleep over either. But I guess if there’s a next time, I will.” 

That’s something you really shouldn’t have said. Toji can’t pinpoint where it hurts, but he knows it does. If there’s a next time? Didn’t his constant calls, random splurge days, and his mere insisting presence give way to his budding sentiments—there’s always going to be a next time. 

“C’mon, don’t be like that! I know it takes a lot of effort to leave afterwards. And you don’t even kiss me goodbye…so cold…but I like it.”

You know the strategy by know as his hands work to court your body to his touch. He’s dangerously close to the thick globes of your ass, the tips of his fingers delicately tracing the outline of your thong. 

Toji’s smooth, that’s exactly why you followed him in the first place, and it’s what got you laid beneath him that first night all the same. Like the best charades, his suave whims soon grew weary and transparent, but it’s his confidence that keeps you around. 

And just how easy it is to tease him. 

Taking a finger to Toji’s chest, you decide to spur him on, to paint an image of what lies just beneath your attire. “I’m wearing the set we got last week…in case you’re wondering.”

His once heavy eyelids shoot wide apart, forcing Toji to dumb gawk at you. “The…red one with the…cutouts?”

“Mhm,” you nod coyly, “But the thong is just so thin and so easy to rip too. Guess the quality wasn’t all that good.”

Toji darts his eyes over your face, his sly azure hues taking in your faux act of innocence. He knows it’s all just to tease him, but with the slightest chance that some kind of truth stands behind your words, he can’t forfeit his chances of making an advance. 

“Okay, then let’s make a deal. Stay over tonight and tomorrow, we‘ll go out and buy the best lingerie that money can buy. How’s that?”

A sheepish scoff rings from your barred lips as you stroll away from Toji, leaving him to stare at your wading presence. “Let me think about it.”

“Oh, but you won’t have time to think…not after I’m done with you,” he adds with haste behind you. 

Your hand settles upon the cold silver door knob of Toji’s bedroom, revealing the sacred altar within a mere glance. Not much has changed since the first night he brought you over—a king size bed that stands in the room’s centre, tall windows with black curtains, a desk in the corner with a computer, and of course, a shelf against the wall that holds Toji’s vast array of sex toys, photos and even a few awards he’s won from the platform.

But as the days passed, the raunchy nature of his bedroom died out when small potted plants replaced the sex toys and trophies. The thick black curtains were traded for white gossamer, and the typical red blanket set was nowhere to be seen in the face of red silk sheets and pillowcases to match. 

It’s a heavy claim to say that you’ve played a hand in his transformation, however, considering that you told Toji how nursing plants are a hobby of yours, you prefer more natural light to enter rooms, and that sleeping on silk simply has its benefits—one could safely make that assumption.

All your observations fall short the moment you sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress graciously dipping beneath your curves. 

“Yeah, yeah, so what do you have planned for tonight?” 

Toji takes his time to reply, setting his heavy hands to brace the waistband of his black sweatpants as he stands before you. “Oh I was thinking maybe some POV shots, I haven’t done those in a long time. Think I should bring them back more often now.”

Musing him, you tilt your head at Toji, a faded smile playing on your lips. “Is that right?

“You know the deal. I’m not gonna start recording until you say so. Why, maybe tonight we don’t even have to get it on film. Can’t we just…fuck around and see where that gets us?”

“That’s a new attitude, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, honest!” Toji flusteredly fumbles out. He didn’t think he’d have to explain it, but some words are better said than just acted upon. And what’s on his chest is heavier than what gravity supplies Mother Earth.

He’s been given the slim window to confess what he wants from you, a question you’ve plagued him with since the second night he called you over. 

He sends a hand to the nape of his neck, mindlessly pinching at the sparse hairs as his frazzled brian searches for the best words to explain his story. “ I just…really like having you to myself. A lot, actually. And it has me thinking…would you be open to being my…partner? C-Content wise, of course.”

“Oh…sure, we can do that! I thought you were gonna–oh!”

The brash clash of Toji’s lips steals the very words from your mouth and pins you underneath him. He more than happily donning the lead of setting the rhythm, painting his kiss against your lips as tenderly as he can. 

Just like that, Toji’s gotten his burning wish within a matter of seconds—and what’s a better way to celebrate than by making his favorite girl cum all throughout the night?

The excitement has Toji running on salacious fumes, his eager hands surging across your body. First he’s tugging off your brown hoodie, pulling the soft knitted cotton over your head on and off onto the floor.

Your leggings follow swiftly behind that, and before Toji can even breathe, he’s got you pinned under him with the lingerie you’ve hinted at earlier with his sweats and briefs joining the array of discarded clothes.

The very set he plucked out just days before with the lacy red bra that barely leaves anything to imagination. He’s already inclined on tending to your pebbling nipples plowing against the fabric. He’s drawn right back to your lips, using his wandering hands to trek across your physique. 

Upon his travels, Toji brushes against the panties you mentioned before, so frail that he could tug on them right now and free you from their rein. Rather, he relies on a mere pinch to inch the seam of your panties to sit within the plushy crease of your thigh. 

“Mm, Toji?” you huff out between a kiss, “Let’s start, okay?”

Frantically shaking his head, Toji aimlessly reaches out to prowl along the top of his bedside dresser until he’s met with the familiar structure of his camera. 

Slotting himself between your thighs, Toji points the keen lens to capture the timeless scene of him between your legs with a single hand. Clicking the camera on, Toji’s granted a clear sight of your bare pussy caught within the camera’s eye. 

“ ‘Kay, camera’s on. Don’t you dare change a thing!

He isn't hesitant to begin, leaving you with a final request to hold your legs back before he’s pressing lazy kisses to the supple mounds of your cunt. 

It’s that first breathless gasp of yours that throws Toji down a spiral of his own arousal. He’s already a throbbing mess, dripping all that precum into the silk sheets, but he doesn’t care. Not when his tongue is tasked with the honor of tracing along the pulsing canal of your glossy folds, just for his greedy ambitions pitting him to suck at the swollen pulse.

“Such a pretty pussy, Gorgeous,” he’s mumbling to himself as blown eyes scale up and down the sinful display.

He wants the camera to catch everything—from the way your fat lips split around his worked tongue to the very twitch that rattles your clit. He carefully shadows the camera over your cunt, his thick digits spreading you apart.

“Fuck, look at that, so soft ‘nd smooth…so wet for me too.”

His thumb rests against the cute pink bulb of your clit, the sullied pad sketching slow, tight circles over the bundle of nerves. 

“Mmm-oh shit!…Toj—fuck, that’s so good!”

“That’s it, say my name Baby, c’mon!” He cheers along your twitching bulb. His name’s just sitting on the tip of your weak tongue, so desperate to break through the air. As its bearer, Toji’s waiting to hear it, the magic word set to pull him underneath your spell.

His hand’s encroach along your supple sides, softly squeezing at whatever fits within his grip. “I know that look, gonna cum on my tongue just how I like it, right?”

 “Mhm,” you frantically affirm with nods, “…it’s right…it’s right there, Toji!”

You don’t have to pay him a teary-eyed  glance to know that Toji’s hiding that sinister grin amongst the fat plush of your folds. That same smile that blossoms into a pout as he guides your poor clit to dance with his tongue. 

Every which way, he’s swiveling your spry mound, All those lazy flicks, pedaling that soft curve of his slicked muscle around your stiffening bud. He’s even placed his hand right beneath your navel, using a soft grip to pull the stubborn hood of your clit back, leaving you open and raw for his selfish amusement.

Your hands race to tug at the noir crown of Toji’s head, keeping his head still while your trembling hips rock against his lush pout. “Fuh– yesyesyes! Toji please! Please make me cum, ‘m so close!”

Toji’s too far gone to keep up with you, his trained hand trembling to find a steady frame of the homemade film. Your nectar’s seeping into his senses, blinding Toji from the surrounding world.

All he can think about is you, all he can taste is that sweet essence spilling from his lips and down his chin. It’s all just a mess he's made out of both you and himself, but when he finally catches wind of your crashing orgasm, Toji’s beaming with the glow of achievement.

Your thighs snap around his head as the weight of your high wrecks through your body in perilous tremors. Your hips drive up against Toji’s gape, stuffing his mouth full with your cunt once more. His greedy forte settles over you again, suckling the chubby swell of your clit against his hollowed cheeks. 

Breaking away from your cunt, Toji pans the camera down to your folds, his fingers gently tapping along your pillowy lips. “That’s my girl! Look so pretty like that, c’mon, we gotta keep you going now. Turn around and give me a nice arch, okay?”

You’re more than willing to comply with Toji’s request, slamming your weak legs shut as he rests on his knees. It takes all the energy ebbing from your body to secure a strong arch, one that has your hips tilted and your ass parading about in the air.

“How’s that, Toji?”

“Just beautiful. Stay still and let me do all that hard work, yeah?” he hums softly.

Toji watches as the lens focuses on the sight between your bodies. His hand braces around his shaft, giving his aching cock one firm squeeze before tapping the head of his cock along your slit. 

“I know you can take it, but what do you think?” Toji hints as he gently nudges himself against you.

You look back at Toji with a proud smile, “I can take it!”

“That’s my girl! Just relax and let me…oh..fuck, that’s the good shit!”

By the rushed dip of his hips, Toji’s subdued by the velvety warmth of your walls, the slickened heat coddling his cock with wet kisses. It’s just like he remembers, tight, warm, and carved out to home all the ridges, the veins and the throbbing underside of his length.

“Look at the mess we’re making,” Toji gloats as he shifts the camera around your sputtering pussy, “And I’ve barely even give you those deep strokes you love so much!”

Those very deep strokes that he’s so fond of too. It grants him the very bliss he can’t get with anyone but you. He’s learning all about how sensitive you are, the pace you, how many times you can cum before you’re fucked dumb, all these things Toji’s taken account for.

As for tonight, he just wants you feel good, his precious girl. That’s why he’s so kind to feed your walls short drives of his cock as you adjust to his size. You’re taking him better these days, your pussy greedily nursing all nine inches of Toji’s length.

He’s got such a fat girth too, so thick that you’re left to squirm beneath the burning stretch. It’s pain that gives way to pleasure all too quickly as Toji reels his hips barely a few inches away from you. 

“Aww, tell me, baby…You like this dick, don’t you? Like how it stretches this cunt to my size, how I’m always hitting that spot, go on, tell me.”

“Mmm…it’s alright,” you attempt to tease, but the stillness in the air carries about a warning with no way of guaranteeing caution.

Toji fists the fragile trims of your thong in his hand, yanking the fabric taunt in his grasp. “Oh…that’s how we’re gonna play?”

In one harsh tug, he’s dragging you against his burly thighs with nowhere else to run from the brutal onslaught of his crashing hips. All the kindness he had for you runs out, leaving Toji on a hellbent venture of proving his words true. His unruly drive has you thrashing straight into the pillow headfirst, pitting your limp body to rock along to all his ministrations without prevail. 

 It’s a rolling barrage, one hard drive after the other. The lewd orchestra Toji’s conducting has the clash of skin breaking about the room, using the meld of your voices charred by vengeful bliss as vocals.

But he isn’t lying; even through his rage, Toji’s still tending to you. By sending the thick bulb of his cock to smother your sweet spot in kisses, each one messier than the last, the coil deep within your core bubbles with another budding orgasm. How could something so mean, so harsh, feel so good? So much that your eyes drift back into your head, your and the veil of pleasure dresses your body like the finest silk. 

All just because you jokingly bruised Toji’s ego. Either way, the fact remains that he’s thoroughly aggravated, and his angered spiel falls on deaf ears.

“Stop lying to me!” He grunts out with a smirk, “ W-We both know you do! Why else would your pussy get so messy fr’ me? M-Making such a mess on the bed. ‘M splitting her open and you say you–”

“T-Toji wait! O-Okay, okay, I do! “ Your whimpering admittance of defeat breaks into the air, earning nothing more than the chime of Toji kissing his teeth.

“C’mere,” he huffs out, pulling your limp body up against his own. His chest carves out your arch like a sculpture, leaving no crevice nor crease hidden from his frame. The grip he has upon you shifts above to the slacked curve of your jaw, leaving Toji’s thumb to strum along your bottom lip. 

His hazy stare catches wind of your misty doe eyes, coaxing a lump to build within Toji’s throat. 

As an act of sympathy, litters of kisses melt against your skin, his unruly trail leading him straight to your dribbling lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Toji whispers against your lips, “Y’know I like you, baby. Don’t go being too mean to me or else someone isn’t cumming tonight.”

“O…okay! I’m sorry Toji, ‘m really sorry!” you sob, your hand racing to brace the thick of his forearm.

Your apology chants in his ear like a mantra, coaxing a crooked grin to shine inside the dark room. 

“Now…” Toji giggles, his hazy eyes flickering towards the fixed lens of the camera. “‘m taking a picture for the thumbnail…smile for the camera!”

[alchemistc]

Once again I need to get off my ass and go work but instead all I'm thinking about is Them:

Buck's mostly got his breathing under control by the time he hears the side door slide open, and he adjusts his weight automatically, tips his chin as he straightens his spine, tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket like that will fix the wrinkles he'd made bending at the waist for the last ten minutes.

"Buck?"

He's turned away, thank god, so Tommy can't see the wince.

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed with himself and the world at large when it comes out wobbly. "Go back ins-." When he hears the door click shut again he takes a moment to hope Tommy's just left, again, but -

No such luck.

"That door locks from the inside," Buck murmurs, and tears his gaze away from the gentle expression on Tommy's face. There'd been a cardboard box wedged up in there by whatever line cook had been out here smoking when Buck burst through the doors, and the guy had left it with a warning about how insanely large this building was and how few doors along its perimeter were unlocked, and now the broken down box is somewhere beneath Tommy's left foot.

Tommy tries the door anyway.

It doesn't budge. "We could just call Eddie," Tommy says, and Buck feels the ire rise in his throat.

"Eddie's not here," he spits, and it feels like a knife under the ribs. Everyone fucking leaves, eventually. "Call your date, if you want. I'm walking."

Buck heaves himself up from his lean against the brick, takes two large strides to make it past Tommy and keeps going.

He should have known better than taking Bobby at his word that this stupid gala would be worth his time. So far he's dodged conversations about the curse of the 118, spent an unbearable five minutes smiling blandly at Gerrard before he could excuse himself, and tossed two numbers written on raffle tickets into the trash in his mad dash through the kitchens because apparently Tommy had been chosen as the rep for 217 and he looks fucking good in his suit, and he'd been pretty sure they'd be spending this Christmas together, until last month.

He's twenty yards down the alley when he hears footsteps catching up to him. Light, brisk - he's jogging to catch up and Buck doesn't want to deal with -

"Not my date," Tommy says, and Buck curses his own body for automatically slowing to allow him to catch up.

Buck snorts. "Okay." The guy was older - than Buck, at least. Grey around his temples, fat lips and clever eyes that caught Tommy's mid-sentence and sent them both into quiet hysterics.

"Buck, would you just -."

He's close enough to reach for Buck's arm, so Buck wrenches it away before he can make contact. "Don't call me that."

December twenty-third is one of those weird days where the world doesn't quite work the same. Traffic is heavier or lighter in weird places, people with nothing to do wander the streets or hole up in their homes making too much food and watching weird holiday movies, and even in LA it gets chilly enough at night to need a jacket. This one isn't doing shit to keep Buck warm, but the anger catching in his throat sure is.

"It's your name," Tommy says, exasperated.

"Not to you." Buck stops dead in his tracks, watches Tommy take another three steps before he realizes he's alone. When he turns, Buck doesn't allow himself to turn away from his gaze. Annoyance isn't a new look - Buck has tested the waters enough in six months to know intimately exactly how far he could push it before Tommy stopped indulging him.

He looks upset. Frustrated. Tired. Hot as fuck. Buck sort of wishes he'd do something about those first two.

Something other than walk away.

Tommy sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, and the sides aren't as high and tight anymore. There's a piece curling over the tip of his ear and Buck wants to tug at it, slide his fingers in there and tuck it back. "That was Sal," he says, and Buck flicks through the sadly small Rolodex of names Tommy has mentioned in the past. Another boundary Buck hadn't realized was a brick fucking wall in the way of getting to know his boyfriend.

Ex.

Sal. He'd been at the 118 with Gerrard, in the early days. Before Chim and Hen, before Bobby. He'd been the one to prompt Tommy into filing a complaint against Gerrard even though he'd been scared out of his mind to do it.

"I don't care."

He does care, is the problem. He cares so much. He's got a pile of fruit cakes and half a dozen pies sitting on his kitchen island right now that prove it. He can't seem to stop caring.

Tommy looks sceptical.

Buck brushes past him again, keeping his strides long. Tommy's the same height, but both literally and metaphorically he's always struggled to keep up when Buck had somewhere to be.

At least the panic attack has passed. Maybe he could take up running, as a cure all, instead of the weak ass recovery period he usually takes that involves him drinking a bottle of water and staring at the same spot on the wall until he sees stars.

So, fine. Tommy hadn't brought a date to the work function it was entirely possible Buck would be at six weeks after breaking up with him and disappearing into the damn wind. He'd bubbled Buck seven times that Buck knew of, and he hadn't brought a date.

Fine.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked -."

Buck had watched Tommy wheeze with laughter and curl a hand around the dudes - Sal's - wrist and he'd felt like maybe he was gonna throw up. Like six months and the something he'd been working his way up to defining hadn't meant a damn thing. Like Tommy could just move on like he seemed to think Buck could.

"Doing great, Tommy. My best friend is moving to Texas and the man I thought I could -." Buck clears his throat. Shuffles sideways just a bit because Tommy is keeping pace now and his cologne is familiar and devastating. He doesn't have anything inside. Once he rounds this corner he could just order an Uber and go home.

There's nothing keeping him here.

"Eddie's moving?"

The no contact thing had extended to everyone at the 118, apparently. At least Buck wasn't alone in that.

Buck digs out his phone, slows his pace just enough to pull up the app he needs. He can feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm getting used to people leaving at this point," he says, filling it with as much ire as he can. His voice doesn't wobble this time.

"Buck."

It's soft, this time, same inflection as when he'd cage Buck against a counter and lick into his mouth. "Don't worry about me, Tommy. You made it a point not to."

"That's not fair."

Buck couldn't care less. He's spent six weeks on a depression baking spiral and now he wants to go home and destroy every bit of baked goods he's made that are still left.

It only takes a few taps. They're surging prices, but that's not exactly a shocker.

He'd really thought the next time he saw Tommy he'd just be sad. Maybe he'd feel a little wistful about all the moments they'd shared that had meant something to Buck even if they hadn't meant the same to Tommy.

He wants to swing a fist, if he's being honest. He wouldn't. Not ever. But the desire is there and he hates it.

"Buck, could we just -."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I pay a mortgage, Evan!"

Buck can't remember Tommy ever raising his voice. It's - weird.

"I'm forty years old and I own a house and you asked me to move in to your loft after you told me you admired me." The emphasis isn't lost on him.

His ride is three minutes away.

"I got it the first time, Tommy. Haven't sucked enough cocks or done enough tests to know what I really want, so. Go enjoy your evening with Sal and -."

"That is not what I said." Cool, calm. Infuriating.

"Well that's what I got from it, so clearly we were never on the same page. I wanted a future with you and you've been eyeing the expiration date the whole time so -."

He's definitely not expecting Tommy's lips. But there they are, on his, and Buck's stumbling back, fully expecting the sharp crack of the brick at the back of his head as Tommy surges forward with him, only Tommy's hand curls around his skull at the last second and takes the brunt of the landing. His mouth opens on a groan and Buck licks up into it. Their noses clash and rather than shifting for better positioning they just press closer. Tommy's free hand finds the soft give of Buck's waist and his thigh finds purchase between Buck's legs and -

"You're willfully misunderstanding me," Tommy says, lips on Buck's jaw, heart pounding under Buck's hand, his breath ghosting along Buck's cheek.

"Never really gave me the opportunity for clarity," Buck bites back, and Tommy huffs, rolls his hips, tucks his forehead into the juncture of Buck's shoulder.

His pulse is pounding in his ears and there's a cloud of Tommy Tommy Tommy obscuring his senses.

"Do you still want that?"

Buck's phone dings in his hand.

His ride is here.

"Not if you're just gonna walk away again," Buck bites out, and shoves. Hard.

It barely moves Tommy, but it's enough to slip out of his grasp.

He doesn't glance behind to see if Tommy follows as he pulls at his suit jacket again and rounds the corner to try to catch - he eyes his phone - Sheri before she cancels the ride on him.

Doesn't stop him from hearing the footfalls behind him while he searches out the blue Honda Civic.

[thinkinonsense]

i just listened to sabrina's new album and oh my god the song slim pickins is such a song that was written from daydreaming about lumberjack!logan, oh and the recent fic that you reblogged was just so yummy and perfect for that song especially the lyrics "a boy who's jacked and nice" like god having to settle down for less because nobody can be him 😭😭😭 need him expeditiously im afraid

it's slim pickins

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: yearning!! fluff, tiny nsfw conversation (nothing graphic)

a/n: this request couldn't have come in at a better time because i'm seeing sabrina on opening night of her tour tomorrow night!! <3

masterlist

"am i just destined to be alone forever?"

another friday night in the hole in the wall bar outside of town. another date gone horribly wrong. your question hangs heavy in the air as you gossip to your best friend who's bartending tonight.

"you keep picking douche bags." she answers without missing a beat.

"well, that's fuckin' rude." you slur slightly, sipping on your third fruity drink tonight.

"well, it's fuckin' true." she smiles, looking over your shoulder at a group of men that walked in. "why don't you go talk to one of them? they look hot."

you spin around in your stool to see a group of lumberjack workers. these were the men that you worked with, you can't flirt with them.

"i work with those guys!" you hiss.

"sooo...?" she smirks.

both of you quickly end the conversation with the five guys approach the bar. the last thing you needed was for these guys to see the desperate and pathetic look on your face. quickly, you rummage through your purse for some cash to put down.

"what are you doing here, doll face?" a familiar voice asks.

you look up and see the most handsome of the men, in front of you; logan. twice your size, buff, toned, tan... god, you had such a crush on him. never in a million years would you go after him though, he's too good to want a girl like you. you were just a friend. he make small talk with you, laughed at your jokes, calls you little nicknames, and refills the coffee pot for you but thats what friends do, right?

"oh... um, i'm just-"

"she's been sitting here moaning and bitching to me all night about her horrible date." your best friend smiles then introduces herself to logan with a handshake.

"thanks asshole." you mumble under your breath at her, making logan chuckle.

"tough night?" he asks, looking down at you in a way that makes heat rises up your face.

"kinda, but i'll save you all the gory details." you admit, sliding off the tall stool a little ungracefully. "have a good night, logan."

"wait, doll face." he says, grabbing your arm to balance you. "wanna talk about it? i'm sure your friend here is busy."

the alcohol let him take you to one of the booths. all the other men noticed logan and you sitting together, definitely making mental notes to tease you both on monday.

"so, what's on your mind?" logan asks, taking a swig of his beer.

"it's nothing really..." your mouth says one thing but your phone says another; practically buzzing off the table.

"you sure?" he raises a brow.

"uh... yeah?" you sound confused as you peak at the notification. an annoyed groan falls from your lips as you slam the phone back down and sink into the booth. "why? why? why?"

"why what?" he squints.

"be honest, do i have dumbass written on my forehead?" you sigh, hazily looking over at logan. the question threw him off guard; unsure if you're joking or not.

"no." he answers.

" well, i sure feel like one. every guy i've gone out with is either the most obnoxious asshole i've ever met who's still hung up on his ex or he's absolutely perfect but he's just not ready for a commitment right now? what the fuck does that even mean?"

all of your drunk rambling surprised logan. at work, he's only seen your shy personality as you scribble down numbers and log them into spreadsheets. this was a completely different side of you.

"i know what you're thinking, 'why not just try dating a woman?'. well, i fucking would if this town wasn't stuck in the 50's, except the men aren't going to war in order to get away from you, instead they just run back in between their ex's thighs and pull that 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit."

it was getting harder for logan not to crack at your silly yet, adorable expressions as you rant.

"and the worst part is that they can't even get a woman to orgasm." you say a little quieter. logan stores that quote in his pocket for another time. "a few weeks ago, i literally had a man in my bed who didn't know the difference between their, there, and they're! i don't know who's stupider, him for not knowing or me for letting him give me the worst head in my life."

if you were even a little sober, this would be mortifying. sitting in front of your work crush and spilling pathetic details of your love life to him. if you were even a little sober, you would have notice his eyes turn dark and lustful under the dim bar lighting. logan couldn’t fathom that you were having trouble in your love life.

"sounds like it's slim pickins out there."

"you have no idea." you sigh.

"if it makes you feel any better, i don't think that you're stupid."

"you're just saying that to be polite. trust me, everyone thinks i'm an idiot for taking these guys back every time. im just like my mom, my sisters, my friends, and every other girl i know. we make up excuses for their shitty behavior because we are afraid to be alone."

logan could see tears forming in your waterline, about to roll down your cheek. it hurt him to see you so heartbroken over these losers. everyday at work, you came in like a ray of fucking sunshine. you didn't deserve to be treated like this.

"it's not your fault that those asshole don't know how to treat a woman." he sighs, leaning forward in an attempt to comfort you.

"i know, i know..." your voice was cracking and you didn't want logan to see you so vulnerable. suddenly, you rise from the booth. "thanks for listening, logan."

"where do you think you're going, doll face?" he asks, following you out the door.

"should head home." you mumble, pulling up the number of a car service about twenty minutes out.

"let me give you a ride home." he offers. "you've been drinking too much."

it's late, you're exhausted and heartbroken so, you let him help you into his truck. it's kinda old but full of character, like logan.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" logan asks, breaking the silence in the car. "still sad?"

you shrug. "think i'm just going to become a nun."

he tried, he really did, but he had to laugh.

"sweetheart, there's no need to become a nun."

"well, i'm never going to find the man i'm looking for so, might as well join the sisterhood."

"what are you looking for in this dream man?"

logan's question has your eyes wondering over to where his left hand sets on the wheel and his right on thigh. the images of what his hands could do flood your fuzzy mind.

"j-just a good guy who's um, who's kind, jacked... respectful, good with his hands...."

it was shameless, your staring that is. logan worried you might get drool on the car seat, not that he would mind.

"hm... those seem like simple requirements there."

"apparently not." you giggle. "it's fine, though. i'm sure the nuns will be friendly."

"still thinking about joining the 'sisterhood'?" he asks, pulling up to your drive way.

"maybe... i'll give it twenty-four hours and if he doesn't come knocking on my door, i'll just buy a chasity belt and go off the grid with the nuns." your smile warmed his cold bitter heart. "thanks for the ride, lo. i'll see you monday."

as logan watches you fumble with your keys and make your way inside, he fights an internal battle over his feelings. he has had a crush on you since the day the two of you first met. by the end of the week, you had baked him some cupcakes, babbling about how you do this for all the new employees, which was far from the truth he later learned.

you captured his heart. even when he tried to burry his feelings for you, when logan looked at you, his world stood still for a moment. he looked forward to all your silly jokes in the break room or the ridiculous gossip you would tell him when he lingered outside of your office door. he couldn't let you slip away into the arms of another asshole who didn't deserve you.

before logan could comprehend what he was doing, his feet lead him up to your door, knocking twice. the wooden door opened and he knew he made the right decision.

there you were in your light blue and grey plaid pajamas with a cupcake in your hand and vanilla frosting on your bottom lip. logan had never seen you look prettier.

"hey? did i leave something in the–"

in the blink of an eye, logan’s hands reach up to caress your jaw, leaning in until his mouth engulfs yours. the taste of vanilla and alcohol surrounded both of you. forgetting the cupcake in your hand, dropping it to reach up and pull logan closer. kissing him was like drinking a glass of wine after a long day. no more stress or anxiety over anyone else’s bullshit. the two of you gasp against each others lips, catching your breath.

“i could be the good guy, you know?” logan pants, now forever addicted to your taste. “i could be the good guy for you.”

your heart fluttered as you stared up at his pretty hazel eyes, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger. this had to be a very realistic dream, thats the only answer to this.

“you would do that for me, logan?” your delicate voice could bring him to his knees, worshiping the ground you walk on.

“i would do anything for you, honey.” he whispers, leaning back in to kiss you again. maybe your dream guy wasn't as far away as you thought?

[luvnami]

he's your ex for a reason

author's note ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ i like suna a lil nasty | kinktober 2024 mlist content warnings ₊˚⊹ cheating (reader on current bf), throat fucking, unprotected sex, creampie, petnames, low dubcon, nosebleed, idk how to tag this but he uses your phone without you knowing, toxic!suna, x fem! reader, ageless/minors dni (18+), 1.3k+ words

“just one night, baby. please?”

you should’ve kept his number blocked. when your ex’s cock is shoved down your throat and you’re gagging on his precum and spit, however, it tends to complicate things. 

suna groans as he thrusts into your mouth. he keeps one hand behind your head, preventing you from bumping into the wall (admittedly, it’s a little romantic). your eyes are glassy with tears and your throat burns. his heavy balls smack your chin as he grinds his pelvic bone against your face with a drawn-out moan, your nose buried in his curls.

“fuck. i forgot how good you feel,” he breathes.

you wish suna didn’t know the right words to make your pussy sopping wet. your current boyfriend is… tame, to say the least. he fancies a vanilla night in bed – not that it’s wrong. it’s just that when you compare him to suna, sometimes you miss having rough, brain-melting sex. the stars have somehow aligned in a way that has you fucking your ex, while your current boyfriend's out of town for business.

“hey, hey. eyes up here, pretty.” suna slaps your cheek lightly to draw your attention back to him. 

your half-lidded eyes focus back on his face, mascara and eyeliner smeared beyond recognition. the blood rushes to his already hard dick. 

he wants to cum down your throat, decorate your tits with his seed, and give you back shots, but what suna really wants most is to creampie your tight cunt. the thought of someone else's girlfriend creaming on his cock has his head dizzy.

suna pulls you off of him and you whine quietly. he softens his gaze, briefly remembering when he could call you his. 

the moment doesn’t last long. he drags you over to the bed, kissing you roughly and nipping at the soft skin below your jawline. 

“r-rin,” you gasp. his heart swells. “no marks.” 

he fights back the grumble that rises in his throat. instead, he hums noncommittally, helping you lie on your back. he pushes your knees into your chest.

the sight of your glistening pussy nearly makes him cum there and then. using his cock, he slaps your slit twice and grins when you cry out and arch your back. 

“rin!” you squirm, rubbing your slick all over the bottom of his dick as you urge him to just fuck you already. 

“what? use your words,” suna teases.

you bite on your swollen lip. 

“stop being a fucking brat and fuck- oh!” your sharp words turn into a lewd moan as suna pushes his entire length into you. without any prior prep, you’re exceptionally tight, and the delicious stretch makes your eyes roll back into your head. 

“shit,” suna pants. he uses one hand to spread your left thigh, fingers digging into your flesh, the other planted in the bed next to your head to keep himself upright. “knew this was the best pussy ever. fuckin’ missed it.”

you keen. “rin, please!”

you don’t need to ask twice. suna starts off at a hellish pace, thrusting into you hard and fast. your tits bounce as he uses you like a fuckdoll.

the sound of skin on skin fills the room, your broken cries of pleasure muffled by the hand that you throw over your mouth. god, when was the last time you were fucked like this? fat tears spill down your temples as your pussy swells and clenches around suna.

framed by the dim ceiling light, he’s still as handsome as ever. he’s filled out a bit more since the last time you saw him. broad shoulders, defined chest, all for you to cling onto. a bead of sweat drips down his chin and lands on your chest. has he always been this good-looking?

suna gives you a boyish smirk. “enjoyin’ yourself?” 

you can only nod. each thrust forces the blunt head of his cock into your g-spot. your mouth lolls open as you chant suna’s name like some sort of mantra, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his straining biceps. 

he leans back on his heels so that he can use one hand to rub your clit. electricity shoots down your spine when his thumb makes contact with your sensitive nub, rolling it with practised movements. 

“mmph- rin!”

your hand flies from your mouth to grasp his wrist, your hips bucking into the air. you’re so, so close. suna knows it too. 

“that’s it, baby. whose cock makes you feel this good?”

fresh tears fill your eyes. your pussy spasms, on the cusp of your orgasm.

“yours, yours! fuck, rin- feels so good, please, rin, rin! rin!”

you practically sob as you squirt all over suna, his thrusts never giving up as he pounds into your poor pussy like there’s no tomorrow. he swears and folds you in half as you near the end of your orgasm. 

“fucking- fuck, missed you so much, baby. missed this pretty pussy,” he babbles, leaning his weight into the back of your thighs. 

you sniffle and let suna kiss you, teeth meeting teeth and saliva dripping messily between your lips as he aims for your g-spot. you freeze up. 

“no, not there, please- no, too much, too-”

you cum, again. your head rolls back, exposing the column of your throat. suna chuckles as he drives his dick into your cunt the way he knows how. it’s just like how he remembered – the memory of knowing how to pleasure you and make you addicted to him? it’s too easy, really. 

something stirs within him. he furrows his brow when he feels warmth bloom in his nose and the touch of something wet on his cupid's bow. he swipes at it with his thumb, looking at the smear of red on his skin. 

fuck. this really was the best pussy he’d ever had. suna lets out a strained chuckle, running his tongue over his lips where the blood continues to trickle down. he tastes iron and salt. 

“gonna cum, pretty girl. where do you want it?” his breath is hot against your skin. 

you can barely keep a coherent train of thought. your limbs feel like jelly, and your lungs are struggling to keep up. each orgasm hits you like a train whenever suna thrusts into that spongy spot just right. spit rolls down the corner of your open mouth. 

“can i cum inside? please, i’ll make you feel so good. promise, princess.”

you can’t muster yourself to say no. how many times have you cum? four? five? the only thought in your empty brain is how good suna feels. you let out a broken gasp that he takes as a ‘yes’.

he cums inside of you with your pussy fluttering around him. 

suna groans, his voice deep and throaty as he grinds his hips against the back of your thighs. his body shudders, squeezing each last drop of cum into your receiving womb. he kisses your ankle, then your calf, trailing them lightly down your body till he arrives at your face. 

your head spins and your eyes threaten to close on their own.

“thank you, thank you. you felt so good, baby. you did so well,” he whispers, one hand wiping your tears away.

you think you feel him pull out and shuffle to the bathroom. your vision fades to nothing. 

suna returns from the bathroom with a damp hand towel. he’s not surprised you’ve fallen asleep, but he frowns because it’s going to be a lot harder to clean you up like this. with a sigh, he moves over to the bed.

your phone lights up on the nightstand. it catches suna’s eye. he checks one more time to make sure your eyes are closed, then double taps your phone screen to wake it again. it’s a message from your boyfriend. suna freezes. 

9.05pm >> i’m heading back to my hotel now. wanna call? miss you :) 

he contemplates deleting the message, but your password screen prevents him from doing anything besides reading the message’s preview. suna sits down on the edge of the bed. you stir slightly, but don’t wake up. 

he presses your thumb to the touch screen and the phone unlocks. it looks like he has some time till you wake up, so suna might as well make good use of it.

[occamstfs]

Sticky Fingers

Junpei finds himself drawn to sneak an early peak at Arcadio Carvajal's new exhibition. When the chance to take a piece home presents itslef, he'll find himself a little more than changed from the experience.

My first sequel! Arcadio from Marichismo decides to take the chance to find a new assistant and lover! In other don't forget to vote on my Viral Transformation poll, ends Sunday! Otherwise enjoy this tale of muscle growth and otherwise masculine changes! -Occam

Junpei can’t believe that he somehow hadn’t heard about this art exhibition until just now. Like many a young thirsty gay across the country he does well to keep a tab on the illustrious (Read: Hot) work of Arcadio Carvajal. Many institutions are a little hesitant to host an artist whose name may well be synonymous with sexual provocateur but, with attendance numbers down across the board, even more museums are thrilled at the chance to host a man who almost magically draws in hordes of adoring patrons.

His latest exhibition on homoeroticism in popular culture is setting attendance records at just about every museum it stops at. Junpei was beyond thrilled when his friend Corey leaked that the gallery he works at was going to be hosting an exhibition of Arcadio’s starting tomorrow! Ignoring any concerns as to how odd it is that he’s not heard anything about the opening until the night before, Junpei grabs his backpack and makes for the gallery immediately, almost as if possessed. Something in his chest flutters with anticipation as he wanders the few blocks down to the hall where he’ll hopefully be able to sneak an early peek of some of the works on display. 

Making the trip down a few blocks with haste he finds  there’s surprisingly little activity at all in or around the gallery. Sure it’s after hours but the night before an opening, let alone an opening by an artist as impressive as Arcadio Carvajal? You’d think there would be some last minute prep work to be done. Skulking up to nonchalantly look through the front door, he puts his weight on it just as a little test. Just to see if it's locked, no overt plans as to what he would do with the information, he just wanted to know. Just wanted to see.

When the door gives, he can’t suppress the grin rising on his lips. In for a penny, he decides. Fighting to keep his expression guiltless he surreptitiously looks around to make sure no one’s watching the entrance before he sneaks into the dark hall. He tries to scheme up an alibi as he digs out his phone to use as a flashlight. Probably wouldn’t buy that he thought they were open. Could just say he was supposed to meet his friend here, though he’d hate for Corey to catch blowback. Junpei then rolls his eyes as he figures he could come up with something on the spot, if he’s even caught that is! Adrenaline keeps his conspiratorial mind from noticing he of course already has been, as the gallery’s cameras follow the young student into the exhibition hall holding Arcadio’s exciting exhibit.

The amateur intruder almost has a heart attack as he steps into the gallery proper and the lights flash on. Stumbling into a wall in shock, he ducks behind a display case and nervously scopes out the new space he finds himself in. After quietly ensuring that no one is actively here, Junpei chalks the lights up to be automatic and hastens his pace. Switching off his now unneeded flashlight, he starts scoping out the litany of artwork dedicated to the male form surrounding him.

His excitement eclipses whatever paltry dregs of anxiety or fear remain as he sees the works of incredibly influential artists gathered here. Junpei knew Arcadio was a titan but he could never have expected the prolific art that fills this place. First things first, as he enters he sees a diptych of the artist himself, under his breath he murmurs, “god he’s so fucking hot.” Somewhere out of sight surveillance footage shines onto a man watching him explore the gallery as he mischievously smirks.

On the student’s left are a wall of nudes and more softcore fare from artists across the ages. Mizers and Mapplethorpes hang floor to ceiling alongside more modern work by Arcadio and his own gay contemporaries. Near the far side there seems to be a whole section dedicated to portraiture of St. Sebastian but Junpei is less eager to explore the thorough history of homoerotic photography. Certainly a medium that has brought him endless pleasure, as it were, but they may as well just be prints to him. No, he wants to see the real stuff.

Wandering past some dozen miniature recreations of Michaelangelo’s David made of shining plasticine latex, some clad in leather, others in the buff as the artist intended, Junpei finds what he snuck in for. Spotlights shine down unto the wall opposite the photography, teeming with works from gay trailblazers of the art world. Namely the ones whose primary focus was on nothing but bulging fetishistic muscle and strong-jawed pretty boys. Those who crafted overt unapologetic pornography and others who snuck homoeroticism covertly to the masses. This is to say there is more work by Tom of Finland and Leyendecker than he could possibly appreciate in this brief time alone. 

He spends as long as he thinks he can just staring at the work. Drinking in the graphite scraped bulges and tight leather uniforms of the massive men drawn by the Finn. Reverberations from his work still echo into the art and lusty imaginations of countless gay men today. Indeed upon gracing dear Junpei’s eyes they immediately cause some mobility issues to arise. He struggles with his pants as he struggles to walk forward with a package that only surges harder with each fervent tug of his pants. His rising issue stops not as he moves on to observe the bright colors and hungry eyes of the men in Leyendecker’s advertisements. Masculine forms idealized and gleaming opposed with the raw heightened sex found in the work nearby. Junpei can barely control the desire coursing through him, but knowing he can’t stay forever the young man continues onward, biting his lip as he tries to will his boner away. 

Going through a curtain into a still darkened room, it takes a second for Junpei’s eyes to adjust before he sees a room dedicated to non-western homoeroticism. Finding aged Chinese scrolls of gay eroticism he snaps pictures, quite thankful that they are less visceral arousing than the work he just left behind, though he’s decidedly happy to see some shred of himself in the gallery. Turning around he gasps as he sees something he wasn’t quite expecting. Next to a wall of more deliberately pornographic bara men he sees panels from his favorite mangaka depicting bulging muscled men in provocative poses. But more thrilling than that, it seems the main sketch isn’t in a display case. It’s just sitting there, loose, free.

Junpei doesn’t know what came over him, he wasn’t even planning on coming in illicitly, but staring at the crisp art in front of him he cannot stop himself as he pulls a folder from his backpack. Before he can even issue a command to his body, the sketch is already in his bag and he’s sprinting away. The smirk of the man watching his every move grows wider as he watches Junpei clumsily flee the scene. Fleeing out the door into the dark streets, Junpei pushes past other students thoughtlessly as he races home, delirium setting in as struggles to understand and realize what he just did. Slamming his apartment door behind him he yoinks out the swiped art. He isn’t sure if it’s the image itself or the exhilaration from his crime but his only recently stilled cock begins to harden once more. 

Mind barely present what can he do but obey his rising erection. Junpei begins to masturbate, staring at his stolen artwork, panting as he quickly comes close; free hand moving thoughtlessly he feels it scrape against something taped to the back of the sketch. Eyebrows furrowing as he continues to beat his meat, Junpei turns the picture around and he instantly stops as his blood grows cold. “Evening Junpei. I know what you did. See you Soon. Yours, Arcadio Carvajal.” Junpei drops the drawing and it flutters to the floor, lying face down, leaving the note facing up at him. His mind escapes from whatever haze compelled him to commit larceny as his thoughts race faster than could possibly be productive. 

What do I do? I need to bring it back now. How did that note get there!? It certainly has my name on it, and it’s signed by Arcadio. Fear seizes him as he backs away from the stolen piece, tripping over the pants that had fallen around his ankles. In his scrambling he falls back and hits his head. Before he completely loses himself to unconsciousness he sees the picture purloined face up once more. Groaning as his vision begins to fade, his eyes latch onto his legs as searing pain slowly burns through him. Cresting into a trancelike state he mumbles incoherently as it almost seems like veins are bulging onto his thighs?

Perhaps unsurprising given the prominence of Arcadio in what lead him into this stupor, but as he’s truly overtaken Junpei sees the massive artist himself. The man’s arms are crossed but the expression on his face is not one of judgment or disdain at Junpei’s actions. Rather, to the best of the young man’s judgment, it looks like one of anticipation. Junpei tries to speak but finds his mouth dry up as the man across from him waves a finger, “Ah ah ah mi ladrónito. I believe you have something of mine.” The eponymous little thief pats himself down trying to dream his plunder into existence but produces naught. Arcadio pouts his lips but there is a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Well perrito. For your little transgression I think you owe me, si? Think I could use some more hands on deck to watch out for petty thieves, don’t you?” Arcadio’s expression loses all the performative animosity that remains as he looks at Junpei with glee and his intentions begin to suffuse the young man. Feeling his ability to speak return, Junpei opens his mouth but before he can produce a word he is wracked with burning pain from the artist's stare.

Beginning from his feet, clad in the cheap tennis shoes that he wore to his haphazard heist, heat sears the soles of his feet. At first it’s as if he’s standing on coals before simmering down to the pain of sprinting across a hot beach; finally it shifts to the pleasant warmth of a warm footbath. Pain swiftly gives way to pleasure as Junpei flexes his feet just to ensure he feels every sensation he can, only then does he feel his toes bump against the front of the small shoe, just as the bridge of his foot strains against the tongue. Junpei grunts as he hears stitches begin to give way, toes blasting through the cheap fabric while his soles rear through the sides and spill onto the floor as his feet totally eclipse the remains of his shoe.

Looking down at feet that may as well need clown shoes compared to the petit ones he’s always had, Junpei feels some new instinct in his mind. Almost like an intrusive thought, he feels a need to be brash, to spar with the man he so respects more than anything. Ignoring his usual nature he follows this instinct, it’s just a dream right? Fighting through the pain and pleasure still coursing through him, Junpei speaks up, “Grgh- What are you- Are you giving me a foot fetish or what?” Arcadio’s face lights with a smile as he hears the young man speak up with the slightest amount of acid on his tongue. With no words to betray his emotion at the seed of Junpei’s changing psyche he moves his eyes up to Junpei’s legs.

“Oh what the fu-” he’s unable to even finish the thought as his whole body convulses with the sensation of his legs lengthening before they start to pack on muscle. Shooting almost a foot higher, Junpei falls back on his ass as he clenches at his calves and thighs. His gaze follows Arcadio’s as the man stares at his tight calves, expanding with each pulse of the heart. Just like every other inch of Junpei’s body there’s initially little at all impressive, and then they flex larger, and then there's a bulge that will never leave, and then there is a calf that would inspire jealousy by any lesser men who glimpses it. More than baseballs, muscle bulges enough for even socks large enough for his massive feet would struggle to contain them. This is nothing however compared to the transformation moving upwards into his thighs. 

Veins bulge thick as power seeps upwards, burning warmth sears his hands as they clutch at the hocks of meat that now constitute his thighs. Junpei blushes as he sees new distinct masses bulge out of his once bony thighs. Staring down at his increasingly powerful lower body he is filled with determination to get them even larger. The need for power begins to wash over whatever ideals or needs the young man had before this dream. Seeing the thick veins clearly pump and bulge larger with each beat of his heart, Junpei traces them with his finger and bites his lip as Arcadio can’t help but stare at the growing package that demands attention from the both of them.

Arcadio is more than pleased to stare, each second spent lingering on the cock sends waves of pleasure through Junpei as his mind struggles to parse that his cock and balls are stretching larger by the second. Quickly surging higher and thicker, his dick eclipses the size its been at its most turgid erection before now and it still pushes further with each groping grasp and sweaty breath. Similarly, beneath it his balls hang lower and the few dark hairs that shade his groin grow thicker and curl longer as his heavy balls rapidly increase production of the hormones this increasingly massive body demands. He cannot help but thrust into the air, his thin arms struggling to support the power his thighs summon. Landing back on his ass it too bulges larger with every flexing movement, quickly regaining its position as the largest muscle on the body as it becomes a bubble butt that would entice even the least male-interested eyes.

Moving on, lest Junpei blow his load all over himself, Arcadio's eyes continue upward to begin the most impressive work yet. Junpei groans as he desperately needs a break from the overwhelming pleasure burning in his lower body. He drags his hands across his inner thigh,  feeling callouses scratch his sensitive sweaty skin before palming his cock to a spurt of pre before moving on. His fingers trace towards his torso as veins begin to trail upwards, crossing his abs as they bulge into existence.

His body involuntarily goes into a crunch as every powerful ab cramps, sending stabbing pain and searing pleasure through his mind. Drool flings out of his mouth as he launches forward moaning. Junpei’s rougher hands grab his beefy thighs to prevent himself from falling backwards once again. His eyes almost cross as he seemingly loses control of any unengaged motor function. Across from him Arcadio just smirks and watches as Junpei’s sweat soaked hair changes from the same unintentional look he’s had all his life into something far more deliberate and fashionable. Exactly what he would want in a body man.

Hearing the strained groans and hungrily looking to the ephemeral expression dancing across Junpei’s face, Arcadio hesitates before continuing. Feeling the briefest of pauses from otherworldly bliss, Junpei cries out, his voice rumbling deeper as he finds his neck has thickened, “Mrgh- Don’t stop boss. I want, more.” The artist’s lips twitch as he is more than happy to obey the thief’s desires. After all, it's about time to get to his favorite part. At the same time Junpei’s mind flickers to the massive pecs that he so enjoyed observing at the museum as he begins to feel building pressure, increasing potential, on his chest.

Summoning a laser focus, Arcadio stares at Junpei’s arms and currently non existent pecs. He has trouble ignoring the bulge dawning in his own pants as he sees Junpei’s stick thin arms begin to bulk up. Immediately his arms fly behind him as he rapidly alternates between stretching them and flexing. With each thrust away from his body into the air they lengthen, fingertips shoot longer as his palms widen. With every bulging flex veins are forced to protrude even further through his faultless skin. His biceps may as well be forged of cast iron as they become impossible to ignore, power courses through them as from now on even the smallest movement causes a medley of muscle to dance across his beastly arms.

In between his bulging biceps, above the cobblestone abs, underneath shoulders still widening and taps pushing against a shirt that barely holds on, his pecs finally begin to receive the attention they have always lacked. Junpei’s nipples increase from the dimesize they’ve ever held into half-dollar protrusions that will be impossible to hide under a shirt. Similarly, the measly pecs they stand strong on begin to grow at a rate more prominent than any change so far. 

The sound of Junpei’s shirt giving way to muscle he couldn’t truly fathom before now burgeoning onto his chest overwhelms him more than he could ever know. In the moment of them bursting larger than life, he feels himself let loose of whatever restraining fragments of his past self remain. He wasn’t sure what caused him to take the sketch from the gallery, but Arcadio knew he would. Arcadio Carvajal, his boss, clearly had more planned for him than Junpei ever could imagine. As his pecs bloat beyond reason and he feels his chest pulse with power does he give himself totally over to become the perfect, powerful man that not for a moment in his life he thought he could become. 

His body shines with sweat as he finally loses control, loosing load after load into the white dreamscape around him. He opens his mouth to cry Arcadio’s name but before a sound could release he finds his godly body pressing up against one of the few men he considers an equal. His new burning muscled form grinds against that of Arcadio. Getting his sweat all over his boss, his lover, his best friend, Junpei smirks in between labored breaths and slobbered kisses. Somehow feeling the scratch of Arcadio’s chest through his shirt the new body man can’t help but frot against the artist’s torso.

Shoving his bearded face into Junpei’s neck, which certainly doesn’t help matters, Arcadio moves his scratchy mouth to his lover’s ear and whispers, “Me esperas… See you soon mi amor.” Seeding desire more potent than anything, every bulging muscle clenches and forces itself larger one last time. Every inch of his impossibly large, inhumanly powerful new form sizzles with the capacity for more pleasure than could ever be bestowed upon him before. Junpei will evermore dominate any room he decides to grace. He will do so physically and intangibly with an aura that exudes strength and entices the appetites of all, though perhaps that due to constantly sweating through any clothing or deodorant he throws on within an hour. 

Feeling emptiness fill him as Arcadio disappears from his dream after whispering in his ear, the now massive man has no recourse besides willing himself to wake up. And so he does.

Junpei wakes up on the floor of the apartment he’s been renting with Arcadio in the leadup to their new exhibition, for some reason the back of his head is sore as if he hit it. Though that’s nothing compared to the soreness that absolutely fills every last inch of his body. The giant groans as he wills his titanic upper body to sit up and smirks as he sees the sweat he must have just worked up. Scratching his pits and struggling not to sniff his hand after, his head briefly filled with countless memories of Arcadio chiding his poor hygiene, he hesitates before noticing some expensive paper lying on the ground. 

Tilting his head and grabbing a nearby towel to wipe the sweat almost dripping from his hand, he takes great care to grab whatever this is without getting too much of himself on it. Turning it around he’s floored to see a sketch that’s supposed to be on the museum wall right now, worse than that it’s from an area that Arcadio has left to him! Taking no time at all to question how this possibly ended up here, Junpei puts it in one of Arcadio’s artsafe folders and sprints down the street to the gallery. 

For being the assistant of such a fastidious man, Junpei has a habit of letting things slip through the cracks, but Arcadio never minds. He knows in the end Junpei will always more than make up for it, always aiming to go above and beyond and, somehow, more often than not exceeding what Arcadio even thought was possible. Entering the gallery the behemoth switches into the closest thing to a sneak that he can muster, unfortunately his massive clumsy feet would always betray his presence. His lover smiles as he hears Junpei’s failed covert operation.

Standing in front of the frame that is supposed to hold the piece that Junpei is now overtly returning, he turns with a sly smirk to see the man doing his best impression of a cat burglar. Arcadio rolls his eyes and goes to grab the folder, lest his lover get his streaming sweat onto it and create an awkward situation with the mangaka. After depositing in where it belongs and shutting it into a plastic case that was conspicuously absent earlier Arcadio returns his attention to Junpei who now looks around the gallery in wonder at what they have crafted together.

Arcadio’s grin grows wider with every step towards Junpei, nearing close enough to kiss, he stands tall and the two enjoy each other’s passion for the first time in reality. Though as Junpei’s deific form clearly demonstrates, what is real doesn’t matter all too much at all. Arcadio doesn’t quite understand the whims of the world he exists in and he’s pretty confident given enough time he won’t even remember being the impetus for his lover’s changes. In fact, as he stands in the arms of Junpei, memories already begin filling his mind of their years together that are as real as anything. Looking around he sees a room full of decisions they made together, body man he may be but the two of them are more than equals. Breaking away from the kiss, he sniffs the air and steps back from Junpei.

Arcadio looks at Junpei’s puppy dog eyes and ruffles his short hair, “Now go take a shower, perrito. Opening is in two hours and you stink, mi amor.” Junpei looks down at himself in shock, somehow forgetting the cold sweat covering his clothes and nods fervently before sprinting back out the door. The two lovers remain on each other's minds as they go about preparing for opening day. Ever but a thought away and always eager for the next moment that they will have alone together. 

[pure-smut]

obsessed.

featuring: Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

contains: college!Sukuna, somnophilia, dub/non-con (reader is asleep), cunnilingus, fingering, toxic love, stalking, panty stealing, mentions of male masturbation

note: all characters are aged up to 18+!

word count: 1.3k

series: 1. infatuated | 2. obsessed | 3. addicted | 4. toxic | 5. feral

masterlist

MDNI | 18+ content

It had been one week since you fucked Ryomen Sukuna. One week of you going to class, meeting up with friends, reading in your favourite café. One week of total, blissful obliviousness to the effect you had on Sukuna.

Stalker is a loaded term, but probably an accurate one, Sukuna thinks to himself as he watches you walk home. He’s no stranger to one-night stands – in fact, he tends to thrive off them. But you’re different. Sukuna can’t stop thinking about that night. The noises you made, the way you felt, the euphoria of marking your insides with his cum.

Sukuna is obsessed.

Luckily for him, you live on the ground floor. And he’s just spent a week learning how to lockpick a window from YouTube.

He waits until the lights go off in your bedroom before sidling up to the window. He’s big and not always graceful, but he’s extra careful tonight. He waits outside the window until the moon hangs high in the sky, until he’s sure you’ve fallen asleep. And then he puts everything he learned to use and carefully breaks open the window.

It’s not his fault, not really. It’s not like you left him your phone number and he has no idea what your socials are – he guess you’re pretty private? And every time you caught each other’s eyes on campus, you only looked away. Worse, you looked uninterested.

Didn’t you feel what he felt that night? Didn’t you share in that ecstasy? He knows you did because he watched you cream on his cock.

So this little game you’re playing is irrelevant. Sukuna wants you now. He wants you always.

He stands in the dark of your room, watching you sleep in the dim, silver glow of moonlight. Truthfully, he didn’t think much of you when you first came up to him. A pretty face, no doubt, but nothing special. Nothing unlike all the other girls he’s fucked and never spoken to again. But something unlocked inside him that night. Now, looking at you, he feels a rush of affection. Sukuna bends down to brush a lock of hair from your face, desperate to kiss you again. You don’t even stir.

Sukuna smiles to himself. Even in your sleep, you trust him. It encourages him to slowly pull off your blanket, leaving you only in your panties. He stands back, taking a moment to admire you. The beautiful curves of your body, the gentle rise and fall of your naked chest, your hair splayed out across the pillow.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmurs to himself under his breath. Because that’s what you are – his.

Sukuna slowly crawls onto the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress. He makes sure to move carefully so as not to wake you. He know he can’t fuck you, not like this, not when you need to work his cock slowly inside you. But he’s okay with that – tonight, he wants to taste you.

That night, after you’d left, Sukuna had run his fingers along his cock, scooping up a mixture of his and your cum. He recognised his own taste but yours was new. Delicious. He’d spent the whole week thinking about it, fisting his cock to the thought of tasting you again.

Now’s his chance.

He gently lays himself between your legs, nudging between them. With the size of his body, it spreads your legs nicely for him, affording him a clear view of your panty-clad pussy. Sukuna casts a longing glance at your bare tits but tells himself to be patient – this won’t be the last time he gets to touch you.

Sukuna turns his gaze towards your pussy, taking a deep inhale. You’re not wet yet but he can still smell you, sweet and feminine. It makes him ravenous.

Carefully, keeping one eye on your face to check your reaction, he drags your panties to the side. You don’t stir.

My sweet angel is a heavy sleeper, he notes to himself happily. Perfect.

Faced with your naked pussy in front of him, so inviting, Sukuna leans forward and licks a tentative stripe along your lips. He glances up to check your reaction. Nothing.

Encouraged, Sukuna laps at you softly, slowly dipping his tongue between your folds to seek out more of your nectar. He wants so badly to wrap his large arms around your thighs and hold you flush to his mouth, to eat you the way he knows you deserve. But he has to be gentle right now.

Sukuna is not a man who begs. He won’t suffer the indignity of seeking you out publicly, making the first move. No, he wants you to come to him. He wants you to say please, please stuff your cock inside me again.

The thought makes his cock stir, throbbing against the confines of his sweatpants. Sukuna trails his tongue up to your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking softly. You whimper in your sleep and the sound is music to Sukuna’s ears. He starts to grind against the mattress, desperate for some friction.

With one hand, Sukuna cautiously dips a finger between your folds, now puffy and slick with arousal. He can feel your hole, the tight ring of resistance that he pushes past slowly, and he remembers how it felt wrapped around his cock. He pulls back and bites his bottom lip to stop from groaning. Fuck. He’s not going to last long like this.

Cum for me, pretty girl, he thinks, pressing his finger deeper and sucking on your clit again. Cum on my tongue.

As if you can hear his thoughts, your hips start to buck. Even in your sleep, you can’t get enough of him. You need more of him. Sukuna curls his finger, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you and stroking it. You gasp and groan, still asleep but your body responding. Sukuna licks your arousal before circling up to meet your clit once more, swiping the flat of his tongue against it.

A dam inside you breaks. In some distant dream, your orgasm ripples through you, making you fist the bedsheets and curl your toes. Sukuna feels you clench around his finger and nearly cums himself. How this tight little hole swallowed his whole cock is a wonder.

Not to risk overstimulating you and waking you up, Sukuna withdraws his finger as your orgasm subsides. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sucks your arousal from his finger.

Fucking delicious.

He’s painfully hard now and wants desperately to coat you in his cum but he can’t give away that he was here. He needs to be patient. And if Sukuna wants something, he can be patient as a saint about it.

But he's not leaving empty-handed.

Quietly, he pulls your panties back into place, smoothing them over your now soaking mound. In the corner of your room, he spies the laundry basket - it doesn't take him long to find what he's looking for.

Sukuna restraints himself to only one pair of your used panties, plucking them from your other clothes. He brings it to his nose to inhale the scent of you, your taste still lingering on his tongue, and he has to stop himself from groaning. You have no idea how badly he wants to be inside you, to feel your heavenly pussy around his cock.

He had promised himself he was going to leave but how can he? You're lying there looking so fucking perfect, so ripe for the taking. Sukuna balls his hands into fists to stop from reaching out to you.

No, he has to go. If you discover he was here, you'll never come near him again. This is his little secret and he'll take it to the grave.

Later, he knows he'll spend the rest of the night with your panties pressed against his face and his fist around his cock, replaying the night you spent together in his mind. It'll be a cheap imitation but it'll have to do... for now.

He withdraws into the shadows of your bedroom, climbing back through your window and closing it silently behind him.

Until next time, he thinks.

Taglist: @tojis-ball-sack @moonjellyfishie @kalulakunundrum @benimarusimp33e

masterlist

Support me on Ko-Fi! ♡

[sukunasweetheart]

kimi ni todoke inspired, but with a twist?? except sukuna is suuuuper into your whole scary/creepy vibes (strange fetish) this is more just rambling, not a proper fic sorry, its a little smutty, scratching and knifeplay involved (he's quite submissive), sukuna's a whole FRREAK

sukuna in college au, where he has a strange infatuation with the horror genre-- has a deep appreciation for scary films, and is a huge nerd in this area, and many of his favourite celebrities are actors and actresses that starred in one of his favourite films. his brother yuuji is also a huge cinema nerd but he's not as obsessed with horror as sukuna is. and frankly, yuuji thinks he's a slight weirdo for being able to analyse them in a very detailed manner, whether it's the jumpscares or how realistic a gore scene looks.

and now this horror nerd discovers someone very noteworthy in his area. there's this semi-famous haunted house that operates year-round nearby his university, which he decides to visit alone, out of boredom.

...the atmosphere is alright. the decoration could use some work. the bloody sheets don't look convincing enough. it's too pink and tacky. the "ghosts" give an effort to try and scare him, but he gives them a deadpan look.

"can you try any harder?" sukuna keeps walking.

next, a man dressed like a typical serial killer walks in holding a real chainsaw. oh, boy. the "killer" walks up real close to him, to his annoyance. he takes the chance to inspect the mask on his face. he flicks it lightly with a finger.

"shit's made out of plastic. do better."

the man revs up his chainsaw.

"ha - that's the spirit." he continues walking.

there's suddenly eerie silence, now that he's almost at the exit of the haunted house. what, did they run out of ideas?

he thinks he catches a glimpse of someone in the corner of his eye. sukuna stops and turns back, but there's no one in sight. that gets the hairs on the back of his neck rising, ever so slightly. he likes that.

he feigns ignorance and keeps heading to the exit, wanting something to jump out at him. he hears little footsteps behind him, this time. he whips around again, but there's nobody.

"you're edging me, are you?" he says sarcastically with a chuckle.

you're hiding in a little pocket area out of view, when you hear the man mention something about edging. great. another fucking weirdo. sometimes, you feel like you should just get a new job.

the third time, you actually reveal yourself and stand still in view when he turns around. the weirdo just stands there and grins at you. the fuck??

oh, sukuna loves this one. you look terrifying. like you came directly from a horror film set. you give him the creeps.

"look at you... a diamond in the rough."

the fuck is this man talking about? you want to tell him to just leave already. but he just continues observing you silently, like someone analysing an artifact. you move stiffly towards him, even while knowing that it probably wouldn't be enough to scare him off.

"your makeup looks too real... do you do that yourself?"

you glare at him. it's part of the script anyway. sukuna chuckles, because something tells him that the disdain in your eyes are real.

"i know, i know. i'll get going. any chance i could get your number before i go?" he asks boldly, hands in his pockets. it's a half-hearted attempt, but he felt the need to really try at least once.

he must be joking. what kind of perverted man sees a woman looking like this and asks for her number? well, he probably isn't being serious anyway. silence permeates the area as you backtrack away from him, deciding you've done enough for your pay's worth.

"running away? a shame..."

you feel odd. many men have seen you and ended up running out screaming. none has ever tried flirting with you while you were in this getup. what a weirdo.

sukuna walks out feeling better than expected. that last section really saved it. not a totally worthless experience. maybe he'll swing by again, just to see you.

except, he doesn't really need to. because the next day you bump into him at uni - and he recognises you instantly, like the freak he is. you try to brush him off casually, but he can't be shaken off so easily. and then sukuna pestering you wherever you hid around on campus became part of your schedule.

"what's your deal? why do you keep following me around?" you eye him suspiciously, when he sits down next to you on the bench, unprompted.

"well, i'm interested in you, for one," he says casually, shrugging.

"listen... if this is because you have some weird horror fetish, then i'm not interested..." you tell him truthfully, shuffling yourself away.

sukuna laughs out loudly in response, which makes you jump.

"i won't deny having unusual tastes, but my interest isn't that shallow. if it were the case, i could probably seduce any other girl and dress her up instead of chasing after you."

well, you guess he's correct about that. you've received a couple of stink eyes from a number of girls after being seen with sukuna so often.

he's an annoying guy - when you ask other peers about him, they tell you he's stoic, mean, and rude as fuck. well, you understand the last two a little bit, but stoic? every time he sees you, he seems like the opposite. he's rather loud and overbearing.

"i'm telling you - you have a talent. why not make use of it?"

he's referring to your future acting career, apparently.

"and i'm telling you - stop with the nonsense! i can't be fooling around with a silly idea like becoming an actor. seriously."

you only started working at the haunted house for some cash. you're not even that into the genre itself. what's with this guy?

"why would it be fooling around? at least give it a try before dismissing it."

this back and forth continues, for quite a while. he even forces you to watch his favourite horror films, "for future reference".

and then he proposes a deal to you. that you try and audition for a small role as a ghost in a film. he guarantees you'll get picked, even though you doubt it. and if you don't he promises he'll never bring the idea up to you again. you decide to go with it, just to shut him up.

but guess what? you're selected for the role.

sukuna shrugs at you with a smug smile on his face.

"see? i'm always right."

he pisses you off.

and he somehow pushes his way into becoming your personal "trainer". sukuna revises your script with you, and gives you feedback on your acting. he sits you down and watches classic horror flicks with you, analysing every scene down to every frame. many things happen the more you spend time with him..... you find yourself getting more and more attracted to this weirdo. this horror nerd.

"are you paying attention? this part is important."

the film gets paused, and you very swiftly, dart your eyes away from admiring his jawline.

"i'm trying... i just can't concentrate. i'm hungry," you lie fervently.

"hungry for what? me?" sukuna grabs your face and makes you turn your head towards him.

"...no? whatever gave you that idea?" you ask, heart hammering in your chest.

"how is it that an aspiring actor can't even lie properly? maybe we need to go back and revise some of your acting lessons."

you know that he's studying to become a film director, and honestly you feel sorry for the future actors that'll be working with him.

"whatever. let go of my face, you ass." you swat his hand away.

sukuna chuckles deeply at you, eyes softening.

"you're lucky that you're cute. how about i give you a kiss? will you concentrate better then?"

"yeah... wait, what-?"

too late though, he's already on your lips. and damn, he's a good kisser. anyways, that embarks the start of your relationship with him. shortly after, the filming process for the short film begins, and it becomes a decent success. you're a little ecstatic. maybe more than a little. you get the feeling that a whole new life is awaiting you.

and your boyfriend is so endlessly cocky about it. "all thanks to me," he says, which is technically correct, but you don't want to openly admit it in front of him sometimes.

and...

occasionally...you do dress up scarily before sex as well. at first, you were quite reluctant and awkward with roleplaying in bed, but after you got used to it, you found that it's hot as hell to see sukuna beneath you, squirming as you press a knife close to his throat, grinding your clothed cunt against his boner, dressed as a terrifying ghoul.

a safe word was established beforehand, of course, just in case either of you suddenly feel like backing out.

you want to keep yourself immersed into the role as much as possible, but it's difficult when sukuna's cock is so big, hitting all the right spots. this time, you're choking him with one hand as you ride him like he's a toy.

sukuna's hands are guiding your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh, his dick aching from the soft pressure you apply to his throat. you look so utterly scary, it turns him on. he'd let you kill him, if you wanted. he fucks into your cervix, looking up into your eyes with a blush on his face, groaning openly at the insane look in your eyes.

choke me harder. scratch me. bite me. he provokes you through his gaze.

you do grip his throat harder. and then you dig your fingernails into his chest, and scrape them down slowly, leaving a trail of red marks down him. sukuna shudders under you and curses under his breath.

"just like that... fuck, baby," he moans, cock throbbing inside of you. your walls squeeze him so good.

he cums the hardest he's ever cum in his life that night - thighs trembling and sweat rolling down his temples, and it doesn't help that you lean down to sink your teeth into the side of his neck while he orgasms.

aftercare consists of him cleaning you up and helping you de-costume. when he's wiping all that dark makeup off your face, he tells you that you're pretty with his soft voice, flustering you.

and of course, vanilla sex also occurs regularly, to get away from that freaky stuff sometimes, with the gentle kisses and tender hand holding, in a missionary position, exchanging sweet, sweet gazes with each other. giving you the princess treatment you deserve for being so good to him.

in the future, you run around and play bigger roles until one of your films become a huge hit, and sukuna finishes his degree to become a famous film director... no surprises there! the best horror actress + the best horror film director goes hard... the two of you are already married at this point.

when the both of you finally get together to make the ultimate film, the internet explodes... sukuna is surprisingly bad at being professional. he's seen often taking care of you rather affectionately around the filming area, personally making sure your makeup is done perfectly, and bringing you food and water as if he's bragging to everyone else about his marriage. and it shows in the way he sugar coats his critique for you, when he has never done that for any other actor/actress he's worked with previously.

if there are some snooty coworkers that try to speak with him about the gap in treatment, he would simply scoff at them and say 'and? she's my damn wife.'

when he's working with you, it's all like:

"cut! honey, that was great, but i think this part can be done a bit better."

but when it comes to other actors:

"cut! what the fuck was that? sounded like you were reading off the damn script. get your shit together."

he's notorious for being relentless, but nobody has anything to say because all of his films climbed to the top of the industry. everyone is dying to score a line or two in his films.

and i'd like to think that sukuna himself dabbles into acting a little as well. there's probably one film where he stars as the killer, and it becomes a classic :) but the one featuring you and him probably becomes both of your biggest hits ✨

oh, and on days where you two finish filming together, he takes you home with his own car, but before that, some freaky car sex probably occurs around some corner with his windows tinted... (he's been hot and bothered the whole time filming, watching you act)

the end <3

Masterlist

[kinq-sleazee]

this is more of a prolonged thought than a cohesive fic but I hope you enjoy

baby daddy deku?

18+ MDNI

god … imagine it being some random hook up ? a friend of mina’s that showed up at one of her pool parties.

and you looked so pretty in that sundress— all soft and smooth. thin fabric nestled perfectly against your curves. and fuck when he watched you pull it off, revealing the tiniest little bikini… he knew it was a wrap.

deku fucked you hard that afternoon. mina’s bathroom— butt naked with the lights on.

he had you bent over the counter with one hand covering your mouth and the other gripping your wrists behind your back. thick cock pounded your poor cunny that was already swollen and puffy from his extremely thorough prep.

deku was so whiny in your pussy. begging you to ‘take that dick, please’ and praising you for “squeezin’ (him) so perfect”.

each thrust was like having the wind knocked out of your lungs. it felt like he was nestled in your rib cage. all you could do is scream and cream on his cock while he wrecked you.

and that was that.

he filled your little pussy then licked you clean . a particularly nasty kiss was exchange fill with cum , spit and your own arousal.

the two of you exchanged numbers but of course he didn’t call. you didn’t expect him too. he’s a busy guy. a rising pro hero with a growing agency. you had no intention of making this situation more than what it was, that is until you realized your period was late.

now you had no intention of telling him. you didn’t want to tell anyone. you locked yourself in your apartment to embarrassed to venture. you probably would’ve gave birth in there had it not been for mina beating your door down to make sure that you were still alive.

she scolded you for trying to do this alone. reassuring that she would be there for you regardless. encouraging you to be brave in your new journey. and getting really excited to be an aunt.

she even helped tell deku when you were ready— which was about the beginning of the second trimester. she marched the two of you right past his secretary and into his office.

he was a bit startled at the sudden intrusion.

“ashido— oh”

seeing you was a surprise. he wanted to contact you after the … fling but time got away from him. if he wasn’t doing hero work , he was making appearances. if he wasn’t making appearances, he was sleeping. surely, you wouldn’t hold it against him ?

but then he noticed you cradling your stomach that looked slightly rounder than the last time he saw you.

his brain short circuited but only for a second. after a few deep breaths and a sip of water then he’s at your feet profusely apologizing and promising to be there every step of the way in some way shape or form.

deku makes good on that promise. he will never let you go to an appointment alone. if he can’t be there personally he’ll enlist the help of mina, and kacchan on occasion. the appointments with bakugo are always pretty fun because he tried to censor his speech for the baby.

“i don’t need that daaarn nerd on my case if his brat comes out cursing !”

deku gets so excited and invested in this baby that it’s bleeding in every aspect of his life. literally lost it when he found out that he’d be having a baby girl. he has to catch himself during interviews to keep himself from spilling too much tea about the “brand new girl” in his life.

things are great with you too ! it was easy for him to develop a friendship with you. heck you’re the mother of his child and you’ve already touched privates so is awkward small talk really necessary?

he’s rock solid. a shoulder you can cry on when things get to tough. deku will always be there to help you carry the burden. he spend the majority of the final trimester in your apartment helping out wherever he could.

and when the baby finally came— ahh! cue the water works. between him and his mother, they nearly had to evacuate the maternity ward for fear of flooding. he couldn’t help it. every time he looked at that little bundle he couldn’t help but be in awe and then he’d look at you and feel even more love because you’re the one that gave it to him.

six month in your baby girl is sitting up and babbling. rolling in her crib wearing an all might onesie and dynamight booties. she’s your twin— save for the curly green space buns and sparkling emerald eyes. easily the cutest baby in the world.

deku just wants to hold her all day. all of his spare time is spent with her. he’s barely even using his apartment at this point only going once a week to get more clothes. most of the time he’ll crash out on the floor next to the baby’s crib or on the couch with her on his tummy.

he’s just so comfortable here. a little too comfortable some might suggest.

he can’t help but bristle at the inquiries about your relationship. eye twitching when kaminari jokes about you being back on the market.

he has no reason to be upset. you’re a beautiful woman and of course there’s the potential for interested suitors but it just doesn’t sit right with him. it nags on him all day. well past the end of his shift. well past when his daughter has fallen asleep. well past when you’ve handed him his blanket and said goodnight.

he just can’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach whenever he thinks of you in another man’s arms.

so he goes to your door and allmight help him when he hears soft whimpers of his name.

“izuku~”

“right there, izu”

“s’good. so good”

and if that’s not a sign then he doesn’t know what is.

you’re embarrassed when he opens the door. cheeks hot and ears burning at his lewd gaze. he gives you no time to explain it away— kissing you passionately while tearing off the remainder of his clothes.

he doesn’t fuck you hard like he did the first time. he fucks you slow. painfully slow. he wants to learn your body. he needs to feel you. and there’s no need to rush. the two of you have all the time in the world.

[thehereticdiaries]

When Fantasy Becomes Reality

Summary: You're stuck in a stupidly tedious class during your final semester. The upside? The TAs are incredibly attractive. What happens when they catch you writing something very interesting during one of their tutoring sessions?

Warnings: SMUT!!!!!!!!! Reader gets manhandled, size difference, humiliation kink if you squint, fingering, oral (f rec), slight dumbification, dom!YunGi, sub!reader, one (1) spank to the thigh, praise/degredation

Pairing: Yunho x Reader x Mingi

Collab with @mingkismain ! Read her part here (it's a direct sequel)

Your final semester was supposed to be as laid-back as possible. You chose classes that you’d be able to ace with minimal effort. All of your core classes were finished at this point, so you had a bunch of free electives to fill up your last credits. For the most part, you succeeded. You could pass three out of your four classes in your sleep. That fourth class, however, proved to be much more tedious than you anticipated. Your friend insisted you take ‘Philosophy of Science Fiction’ with her. You only agreed because you figured the lectures would consist of watching sci-fi movies or reading sci-fi novels.

You were so incredibly wrong. Well, you were right about the lectures including sci-fi movies, tv shows, and novels. The numerous essays about said media were what killed you. In the 15 weeks of the semester, you had written eight essays. EIGHT. It was fun for the first two or three, but now it was just exhausting. There was only one perk to the course: the two very handsome TAs. 

Staring at Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi quickly became your number one pastime during lectures. You often attended their tutoring sessions even with your grades being near the top of the class. Which is what you were doing right now, in fact. They were holding an all-day tutoring session to help your class work on your final essays. You finished your paper on Iron Widow hours ago, but you stayed in the reserved study room and acted like you were adding your final touches. It wasn’t a total lie. You were writing, but it definitely wasn’t classroom appropriate. You were engrossed in perfecting the filthy words on your google doc. So engrossed, that you failed to notice Yunho looking over your shoulder.

“Oh, shit.” You jumped at how close his voice was, whirling around to gape at him. The study room was empty except for you and the two TAs.

“Yunho, it’s not what it looks like, I swear.” He smirked at the flush rising on your cheeks. Before you could attempt to defend yourself further, Yunho snatched your laptop from in front of you. He easily evaded you as you chased him around the table. “Give it back!”

“Mingi, give me a hand.” The other TA snaked his arms around your middle and lifted you off the ground. The height difference left your feet dangling by a few inches.

“Put me down, please! It’s not a big deal,” you pleaded, smacking his forearm repeatedly. You felt his chest vibrate when he laughed.

“Doesn’t seem like it from how hard you’re trying to get your laptop back,” Mingi teased while Yunho scrolled through your story. You wiggled to try and loosen Mingi’s grip on you, but he was definitely stronger.

“Damn, Y/N. You’re into this?” Yunho’s heated gaze fell back on you. He clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. “Dirty girl.” You froze, digging your nails into Mingi’s arm subconsciously. 

“Dude, are you going to tell me what she’s been writing or not? I think I've waited long enough.” Shit, what did that mean? You narrowed your eyes at your laptop, willing it to explode on the spot. No such explosions occurred, to your horror.

“Elena rolls her hips against Luca’s thigh, desperate for relief after his relentless teasing. He splays a hand across her lower belly to keep her from moving. ‘Patience, sweetheart. Be good for me or I won’t let you cum at all tonight.’ Elena pouts up at her lover, tears welling–”

“Yunho! Shut up, please, shut the fuck up!” You hid your face in your hands. You yelped when Mingi swatted your thigh. 

“It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re speaking,” you shivered at his breath fanning across your neck as he scolded you. “Keep going, Yunho.”

“Oh, this is a good line: Elena’s thighs tremble against Luca’s hold. She whimpers and tries to push him away, but he uses the hand not inside her to pin her arm to her side. ‘You wanted to cum, love. So now you’re going to cum as many times as I see fit.’ Elena whines as he licks another thick stripe over her clit,” Yunho paused to share a look with Mingi. His eyes looked darker than normal.

“Is that what you want, pretty girl? You want to be pinned down and forced to cum over and over again?” Mingi’s voice was low next to your ear. You swallowed down the whimper that nearly escaped your throat.

“Looks like it. Her character came three times on the dude’s mouth and fingers, then two more times on his cock,” Yunho confirmed in your silence. He skimmed through the next few paragraphs, grinning wickedly. 

“Any more interesting scenes?” You truly wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You were beyond mortified, especially since they seemed to relish in your humiliation. 

“Mmm, a couple lines here and there,” Yunho glanced up at you, tongue poking against his cheek. “She really likes to mix praise and degradation.” He set your laptop on the table, stalking forward to invade your space. You refused to look him in the eye.

“Does she?” The hand not supporting your weight gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at Yunho. 

“Some of her most used lines to use are full of it.” Yunho ran his hand up the back of your neck to grip your hair. You couldn’t contain your soft moan this time. “You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. You look so pretty taking my cock. Look at you, such a good little slut for me.” 

“I’m- I don’t…” You stumbled over your words, panting from their body heat pressing into you. “Please…”

“Please what, baby?” Yunho teased with an edge of condescension to his voice. His hand trailed up your thigh, fingers brushing under the hem of your skirt.

“Do you want us to stop?” Mingi’s hand released your jaw, only to rest on your neck. “Or do you want us to do all those filthy things to you?” A strangled sound at the back of your throat morphed into a gasp.

“We need an answer. A verbal yes or no, otherwise you’ll get nothing,” Yunho drawled, dragging his hand further up your skirt and pulling your leg to hook over his hip. 

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. You took a shuddering breath, goosebumps rising under his touch. “I- I want it.”

“Not good enough. What do you want, sweetheart?” Mingi insisted, hand slightly tightening on your neck. 

“I want you to do the things I wrote about. God, please do something,” you whined loudly, thankful for the sound dampeners lining the study room walls. Yunho stepped back so Mingi could sit, keeping your back pressed to his chest and holding your legs open over his knees. You’d imagined having Yunho between your thighs, but fuck the real thing was so much better. He shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips.

“Shit, you’re already so wet and we haven’t even touched you yet,” Yunho smirked and pushed your thighs further apart. “Feel her, Mingi.” The man behind you dropped a hand down to stroke over the wet patch on your panties. Your hips jolted forward as he pressed down on your clit.

“Damn,” Mingi sucked a breath in through his teeth. He lightened the pressure from his fingers, tracing soft circles that offered little relief.

“Y/N, do you know the traffic light system?” Yunho tapped your knee to grab your attention. You nodded, head feeling fuzzy from their teasing. “Tell me.”

“U-um, green means I’m good, an-and to keep going. Yellow, fuck, yellow means slow down or change something. Red is a hard stop,” you stuttered, interrupting yourself with airy whines. 

“Good. Once we start, Mingi and I won’t stop until we think you’ve had enough. ‘No’ and ‘stop’ mean nothing, the only word that matters is ‘red’.” Yunho pulled roughly on your skirt, pulling you closer to him. Mingi lifted your hips so Yunho could drag your panties down your legs. You barely registered him pocketing them. He littered your thighs with open-mouthed kisses, avoiding where you really wanted him. Your hips bucked forward to try to get him to go faster.

“Sit still,” Mingi ordered. You yelped at the warning bite left on your inner thigh. You squirmed again, pulling an irritated huff from Mingi. He pinned your hips against his with one arm. You gasped at the feeling of his half-hard cock against your ass. 

“What do you think she should get, Mingi?” Yunho didn’t wait for an answer to finally run his tongue over your clit. Your hand shot down to his hair, winding your fingers in the soft strands. 

“She’ll take exactly what she wrote, and more.” The hand not holding you still moved under your shirt to cup your tit over your bra. You couldn’t even comprehend what he meant, too lost in the shockwaves of pleasure Yunho’s mouth sent through your core. You cried out when he thrust two fingers into your dripping cunt. You dropped your head onto Mingi’s shoulder, giving him access to suck dark hickeys on your neck and collarbones. 

“Fuck, fuck, Yunho please,” you panted heavily, pushing against the arm holding you in place. 

“You close already, sweetheart?” Yunho’s voice sent vibrations across your sensitive clit. 

“Yes! Please, can I cum?” You whimpered when his fingers curled to drag over the spongy spot you couldn’t reach with your own.

“Ooh, asking permission?” Mingi smirked against your neck. “Good girl, cum for us.” Another harsh suck sent you over the edge, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your scream. Yunho slowed his fingers, but didn’t stop licking your clit until your thighs trembled. He pulled back, mouth and chin shining with your release. 

“It sounded cheesy before, but fuck, you really do taste so fucking good,” he repeated the words you had written just before your laptop was taken. “Look at you, already fucked out before we’ve even fucked you.” He stopped thrusting his fingers, keeping them buried in you to continue curling against your g-spot. You clenched when Mingi circled your clit once before continuing down to prod at your entrance. Your back arched as two of his fingers pushed into you, right next to Yunho’s. 

“God, you’re tight. Can’t wait to fuck your pretty pussy,” Mingi groaned, unable to tear his eyes away from where their fingers disappeared in you. The stretch and Mingi’s palm brushing your clit had another orgasm quickly building. 

“Who would have guessed? Ms top-of-the-class is secretly a kinky little slut,” Yunho mocked, grinning when your walls clamped down on them. He sat up higher on his knees to leave his own marks on your neck. He bit into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pulling a pathetic squeak from your throat.

“C-cumming!” Was the only warning they got before you arched in another orgasm, inadvertently grinding down on Mingi’s hard-on. Your skin buzzed and you struggled to catch your breath. They continued to finger-fuck you through your high. 

“Too much, too much, please,” you whined, weakly pushing at their wrists. Yunho’s free hand grabbed your jaw to force eye contact.

“What’s your color?” 

“...green,” you answered after a beat of silence.

“Thought so.” Yunho crashed his lips into yours, immediately licking into your mouth. You tasted yourself lingering on his tongue. You whimpered at the emptiness left when they removed their fingers. Yunho pulled back, still connected to you by a string of saliva. “Mingi’s turn.” Your back hit the table before you could process his words. Your legs were thrown over Mingi’s shoulders as he dove in to lap at your swollen clit.

“Fuck! I can’t- how many more?” Tears gathered on your lash line. Blinking them away, you stared as Yunho palmed himself through his jeans.

“You get stupid when you cum, don’t you? Can’t even remember the scene that you wrote.” Yunho sat in the chair you occupied moments ago. He tilted his head at you sifting through your syrupy thoughts.

“T-three on your fingers and tongues, two o-on your,” a high-pitched moan cut into your sentence. “Fuck, oh my god. Two on your cocks.” Another rush of arousal shot up your spine when you realized that both of them were going to fuck you. 

“Atta girl,” the slight praise went straight to your head. Mingi stole your attention back by blowing cool air over your clit. Your hips jerked, overly sensitive from cumming twice already. He watched your face contort with pleasure, pupils blown wide. Three of his fingers pushed back into your cunt, walls fluttering around him. In the back of your mind, you realized that they were prepping you to take their cocks.

“You’re right, Yunho. She does taste good.” Mingi’s eyes flickered to his friend for a moment before returning his focus to your pussy. “She makes such pretty noises when we stuff her full of our fingers.”

“I bet she’ll sound downright sinful when she’s stuffed full of our dicks.” The way they spoke about you like you weren’t in the room made you dizzy. Your head floated in a cloudy haze. Mingi moved back to your clit, sucking hard.

“Fuck!” Your third orgasm hit like lightning, only lasting a few seconds but leaving you breathless and flushed. You nearly sobbed, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. You barely felt it when Mingi stood from his place between your legs. When you finally managed to open your eyes, they loomed over you, eyeing you up with a predatory glint in their eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, we’re nowhere near done with you."

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 14

Let's just ignore I've updated this story three days in a row, @ailithnight asked me to make them cry, so we're giving the challenge a shot. This was written today and may very well have typos. Also it literally can't go on like this, I have work tomorrow.

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Jason had called ahead to let them know he was coming to the cave and then promptly turned off his comms again. He didn’t need to hear their questions. Not on comms. It was bad enough he had to face them. 

He drove into the cave, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning right around. Everyone but Bruce were in their civvies at this point. Jason shouldn’t be so surprised Bruce had called it a night. Not after ghost jumping off a roof in front of them. 

Bruce did care, and Jason could tell himself that now without poison dripping into his ear about how it was only to keep his little soldiers at the top of their game. He was too exhausted to appreciate the missing put at the moment, he just wanted to go home and try to forget for a moment that Ghost had left again, but he had to do this. 

Dick was sitting with an arm around Tim on the meeting table. Tim looked wrecked - good, he thought grimly and immediately felt guilty. He didn’t even have the pit to blame and yes Jason was angry about what had happened tonight, but really he was just as angry at himself. Jason might have tried to make them understand that Ghost needed help, but he’d done a poor job of it and they didn’t hear his grief for themselves. 

They hadn’t felt Ghost’s terror in their electricity trap, his desperate fight to control his panic, they hadn’t felt it as he fell or the shock of pain as he landed. They hadn’t felt the panic reach a fever pitch and then utter silence.

They hadn’t been 50 yards away on another building, running, because they knew something terrible was about to happen. They weren’t the ones who thought they might have already been too late even as they caught him out of the air. 

But Ghost had been alive. He’d been breathing. Panicked, but breathing, yet still utter silence. 

Jason had been terrified. 

And yes he was angry. He should have never let it get so far even in his desperation. They needed to stop chasing him. It wasn’t working. 

It had nearly cost him his life. 

He was a fucking burglar, not a rogue! He wasn’t a murderer who would kill someone if he wasn’t stopped. They should have never used this level of force. They never would have used this level of force if it wasn’t for Jason and his erratic behavior. It was on Jason, not Tim who was a seventeen year old kid just trying to keep this cursed family together. 

Damian was sitting at the meeting table a few seats away from where Tim and Dick were sitting on the table and for him to willingly be that close to Tim without any needle-ing commentary it was practically the equivalent of a hug. 

Jason sighed, then pulled off his helmet and left it on the bike. He couldn’t hide behind the safety of its smooth surface, not for this. He walked over to the meeting table, knowing it would draw the rest over there.

Damian took one look at him, with that sharp judgment that was always in his eyes. “You let him get away.” Jason grit his teeth, refusing to rise to what was just an observation, but it had been a trying night and it was tempting to snap, that he didn’t let him do anything. 

“His powers returned,” he said finally, carefully even-toned.

Tim looked up shortly at that and Dick squeezed his shoulder. Normally, Tim would have been on that detail like a hawk. How long did it last? Did the powers return gradually or all at once? Were there other adverse effects? And probably more questions Jason had not even thought to consider because that was just Tim. Now, Tim was silent.

“Jason?” Bruce asked carefully from somewhere to Jason’s left. Jason couldn’t look at him. Last time they’d been this close Jason had almost shot him. 

Stephanie and Cass joined Tim and Dick to sit on the table, and Damian allowed Cass’ hand in his hair only because she could kick his ass six ways ’til Sunday. Duke was the last to join their loose circle standing to Jason’s right. 

Jason didn’t have any excuses left. He even saw Alfred standing a ways further by the wall. Everyone was here. Babs was definitely still on comms with Bruce, even if the cowl was pulled back. 

He tried to take a steadying breath without being too obvious about it. He probably failed, horribly. 

“You have to leave Ghost to me.”

“Jay… you’ve not exactly…” Dick said carefully, the only one willing to even go near the fact that Jason should be the last person to go after Ghost. That he had been far from rational about the whole thing. That he was invested, personally more than they could even guess. 

“I need-“ Jason looked to the ceiling, breathing for just a moment, before looking down again. “I need you to trust me on this, to let me handle it. What happened tonight… it cannot happen again.” 

He clenched his hands, gathered every shred of courage, then looked to Bruce. 

“Dad, please…” He ignored the gasps from his siblings, from shock or outrage that he of all people pulled this card, maybe both, it didn’t matter. Jason only had eyes for Bruce’s stunned face, for the way his jaw tightened and his eyes were moist under pained brows. He only had ears for the way Bruce’s voice broke partway as he said: “Of course, Jaylad.”

“Thank you,” Jason whispered, afraid his voice would fail him if he spoke any louder. He held Bruce’s gaze with his as he said it, because he deserved to know how much that meant to him. The urge to go over to Bruce was strong, to see if his dad would hug him if given the chance - he thought he would, but that, that would be too much, and the pit would be back in a couple of days. 

Jason couldn’t handle any more tonight. 

He gave Bruce a tight nod and turned to leave, avoiding looking at the reactions of his siblings. 

Out the corner of his eyes as he left, he absently noted the purple backpack he’d stolen from Ghost sitting by the evidence board and that metal cylinder, Ghost had left behind the night Jason had met him, sitting on a shelf amongst other knickknacks. 

In the back of his mind an idea was taking shape, but he'd only realize that the next day.

-

I made myself cry writing this, that happens very rarely. Jason has had a really bad day, but it was the father-son feelings that did me in.

I do not know when I will update next time, the chapter this part belongs to is like 2/3rds done now, but it's the middle I need to fill out. Oh well, I'm enjoying the writing bug while it lasts. Update: Next

[tsukisrants]

First Prize - Jeon Jungkook

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3.068

Warnings: Boxer!Jungkook, Possessive Behavior, Violence, Spankings, Manhandling, Dom/Sub undertones, Name-Calling, Hair-pulling, Fingering, Rough sex, Spit, Creampie.

Summary: "I need these eyes, little one. I need my number one fan, huh? Or I'll lose my mind, and we don't want that, do we?”

smut under the cut

A blow.

Another one.

The pungent smell of blood intoxicates him.

His mixed with that of his opponent.

Anger rises in his chest, overwhelming and distorting him.

Clouding his senses.

The gaze of the audience turned towards him. People look at him and devour him with their eyes.

Among them, yours.

You, who look at him with your childish eyes.

With that curiosity and desire.

Your eyes, his fuel.

Everything around him catches fire.

The flames blaze uncontrollably and his body is moved by an intoxicating adrenaline that creates addiction.

Despite the pain, the fatigue.

He wins.

The opponent falls to the ground.

He, on the other hand, stands triumphantly.

The shouts rise, the screams caress his ears, and he revels in every moment of glory.

He was born for this.

You, on the other hand, tremble.

You look at him with dreamy eyes, as you have been doing for a long time now.

Since you were dragged, against your will, to one of these fights.

You didn't want to come at all, but in the end, you gave in, and thank heaven every day that you did.

You saw him, and since then you have done nothing but come back.

Come back to him, for him.

Enchanted, bewitched.

At every encounter, you stand in the front row.

At every encounter, you have eyes only for him.

You scream his name, you smile.

You smile and everyone's eyes are on you.

But yours? Yours are only on him.

Your gaze belongs to him completely, like every single part of you.

And fuck, he likes it.

Jungkook lives for the desire he has for you and for the desire you have for him.

At every encounter, he checks if you’re there.

But as always, he does nothing.

He looks at you.

He observes you, and burns your skin with those dark pits.

Jungkook keeps playing this little game with you for a while.

Then, one evening, you don't show up.

You miss a fight.

You didn't want to, but exhaustion didn't allow you to move.

Too tired from work, you skipped a fight.

That night, they had to urgently take Jungkook's challenger to the hospital.

Furious, he ended the evening by downing a bottle of vodka, and then picking a fight with a group of idiots, emerging victorious.

Jungkook never loses.

At the next fight, you are there.

You are there, you have returned, and when you look at him, your curiosity turns into confusion, then fear.

In his eyes, the deepest darkness.

Jaw clenched, he delivers precise and devastating blows.

He wins, because he can't do otherwise.

He wins, and you timidly exult.

He steps down from the ring, drinks a drink.

He downs it in one gulp, and you remain enchanted watching his neck shine under the dim light of the gym, his Adam's apple moving up and down.

He redeems the winnings, and leans against the wall.

His friends congratulate him, now accustomed to his successes.

He crosses his arms, and then you notice.

Jungkook is looking at you.

Your hands tremble, and you look around, as if to make sure that he is really looking at you.

You want to run, to escape from him.

But your body seems unresponsive.

It is no longer yours, but his.

Dominated by his eyes.

With a nod of his head, he gestures for you to follow him.

Before you can realize it, you are following him.

A dark corner, and a hand that grabs you.

He pulls you.

You are in a room you have never seen before, you realize it is the room where he prepares before the fights, before dominating the whole world with the strength of his fists, of his body.

"You weren't there last friday," he says.

You gasp, trying to find the words to answer him, completely caught off guard.

"I-I... no, I wasn't there," you reply.

He approaches you, making you step back.

Your body collides with the wall, and he towers over you.

One of his hands next to your face, and you feel your breath catch.

With the other, he grabs your chin.

He forces you to look at him.

You part your lips, and you have to forcefully suppress the moan of astonishment that tries to escape from your throat.

"Don't do it again. Don't miss again, I need you there."

His confession leaves you stunned.

Your confusion clear and evident on your face.

"I need these eyes, little one. I need my number one fan, huh? Or I'll lose my mind, and we don't want that, do we?"

You shake your head. No, you don't want that.

God.

He needs you.

He just said it, and he did it with his eyes locked into yours. He meant it.

He means it.

"I will never miss a fight again, never," you promise him.

As you say it, you truly believe it. You would be ready to do anything for him, and it doesn't matter if you don't really know each other: you belong to him.

He smiles, and Jungkook's smile scares you.

It excites you.

It makes your panties wet.

You feel warmth spreading through your body, your skin filled with uncontrollable shivers.

"Good girl," he says.

His words burn: they set your mind to flames.

There’s nothing in the world you want more than to hear those two little words over and over again.

As he speaks, the hand that was holding your chin moves.

Jungkook rubs his thumb against your lips, his tattoos marked with scratches and splatters of blood make the image even more exciting than it already is.

Jungkook pushes his finger into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue.

The taste of his salty skin is enough to elicit a faint moan from you.

"These eyes, little one. They make me want to hurt you, do you understand? I want to destroy you," he growls, hungry.

He pushes his finger even deeper into your mouth, making you gag.

Jungkook fucks your mouth with his thumb, and you take everything he gives you.

You cough.

He moans at the sight, releasing your mouth.

A trail of saliva connects his thumb to your parted lips, and Jungkook's breath becomes more labored. Heavier.

"Do it. Hurt me. Do whatever you want to me," you beg him.

In an instant, he grabs you by the hair.

His hand tightens with force at the base of your neck.

The strength with which he pulls you excites you: you love the idea that he can do whatever he wants with you, that Jungkook is so much stronger than you that he can bend you and fuck you whenever and wherever he wants.

A cry of pain escapes you, and he laughs.

Jungkook laughs as he drags you by the hair across the room, until he positions you in front of a table.

Once there, he forces you to move as he pleases, shoving you around like a rag doll.

He pushes you down, bending you over the table.

You flinch, tears of pain streaming down your cheeks, meeting your lips, still wet with your saliva.

You feel the taste of your own tears, let it intoxicate you.

The cold surface of the table against your cheek keeps you anchored to reality, and when Jungkook pushes your face forcefully against it, you find yourself squeezing your thighs together.

You love to suffer for him.

You've dreamt of him at every encounter, and finally it's reality.

He’s finally giving you the pain that you craved for so long. Too long.

"From now on, you're mine. Say it."

"I'm yours."

Then, he spanks you.

Hard.

Jungkook's hand collides with your ass, again and again.

Over the skirt you're wearing.

The black one, the one you know is a provocation made for him.

Designed for him.

The one that hugs your body, short in just the right places.

Then, he pulls it up, making it tangle around your waist.

He grabs your panties, and then Jungkook tears them.

They're the pink ones, with the sweet pattern you love.

He loves them even more.

Jungkook gets off to the thought of corrupting you, ruining you for anyone else.

Scraps of fabric from your ripped panties fall to the ground, forgotten.

"If I see wearing a skirt like this again I’ll make sure you regret it, you hear me? You don’t wear shit like this, not without me, do you understand?", he asks.

In another circumstance, you would have probably screamed and resisted.

But now, for him, you would do anything.

Everything is so wrong that it feels so fucking right to you.

When you don't respond, he spanks you one more time.

"Do you understand?", he asks again, leaning forward to grab your face, pressed against the table, and forcing you to look at him.

Your gazes meet and you feel insignificant under the weight of Jungkook’s.

You love feeling this way.

You don't want to be anything other than a little toy for him to use and fuck.

"Y-yes! I understand!", you exclaim.

He smiles satisfied, before pushing two of his fingers deep inside your mouth.

In their rightful place.

With his other hand, he unbuttons his pants.

He pulls down the zipper, then pushes them down, letting them slide down his thighs.

You can't see the scene clearly, but you hear the metallic sound of the zipper being pulled down, the buckle of his belt briefly hitting the table.

He lowers his boxers, stained with his pleasure: a wet spot that marks the level of his desire for you.

He pulls out his cock, and you widen your eyes.

It's big.

Thick, long, and shining from how wet he is, drops of pre-cum sliding down his pulsing tip.

You want it in your hhmouth, in your pussy.

"Good girl, lick them for me, make them wet," he encourages you.

He fucks your mouth with his fingers, once again forcing you to choke on them, pushing them deep into your throat.

As he watches the scene, he touches himself.

His hand moves quickly against his cock, his hips pushing forward in a desperate attempt to receive more friction.

Jungkook grunts and hisses in pleasure, gritting his teeth and wetting his lips with his tongue.

Then, your mouth is left empty.

Jungkook brings those same fingers between your legs, rubbing them against your pussy, before plunging them into you without any regard.

"So tight, so warm for be, fuck...", he murmurs.

He's not talking to you, but to himself.

As if you are nothing more than a little fuck-toy. Nothing more than a flashlight.

Perhaps you really are nothing but that.

He moves his fingers quickly, thrusting them inside you.

The sound of your wetness, of your pleasure, echoes in the room.

It’s all so fucking messy.

You are wetter than you have ever been before, and it is solely and exclusively for him.

Hot droplets of your juices splash down his hand, down his wrist. The veins of his forearm popping out with the strength that he’s using to finger-fuck you.

You feel your wetness trickle down your legs in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers inside you.

As he touches you, he rubs his cock against your flushed and sensitive skin, against your ass.

He leaves behind a glistening trail of his pleasure, his pure desire for you. Your ass wet with his pre-cum.

When Jungkook deems that he has stretched you enough, he pulls his fingers out of your pussy.

You feel empty without a part of him inside of you, and it feels so wrong not to have him inside of your body.

"Open," he orders, tapping those fingers on your lips.

You open them, and he forces you to taste yourself, pushing those wet fingers against your parted lips and then against your tongue.

"You make me so horny, baby..."

When he's satisfied, he cleans his fingers on your face, on your cheeks.

He grabs you by the hips first, then his hands slide down your body: he spreads your legs, firmly grabs your ass, and keeps you open for him.

From above, he lets his saliva slide onto you, onto your throbbing pussy.

He spits on your pussy and the sound is enough to make you moan loudly, gasping his name.

Your fluids mix, becoming one.

He rubs the tip of his cock against you, pushing it inside your pussy.

Just the tip.

It's not enough, not even close to being enough for you.

"Beg me. Beg me to give you my cock, come on, you fucking slut," he groans.

You can clearly feel that Jungkook is teasing you.

The humiliation burns fiercely in your stomach, and only serves to make your pussy even wetter for him.

You are now lost in your own perversion, and decide to let go.

To embrace your deepest desires and needs.

"G-give it to me. Please, Jungkook, please... fuck me, fuck me..."

He does. Jungkook satisfies you, because he can't resist when you beg him so sweetly to fuck you.

"Fuck, baby," he pants.

He buries himself in you completely, and a moan similar to a scream escapes your lips.

Your folds open up to accommodate his length, the lips of your pussy hugging him tightly as your tight walls suck him in.

"You're such a dirty little whore. You like getting fucked like a bitch in heat? You were made to take my cock, made to get fucked like nothing more than a flashlight."

You tremble. You nod and moan.

Jungkook laughs as he fucks you. He laughs at the state you're in: desperate and lost in the pleasure that he is giving you. His cock thrusts inside you again and again, hitting all the right spots, driving you crazy.

"Yours. Only for you. Your whore, only yours, y-yours only, J-Jungkook please..."

Hearing you say it drives him crazy.

He grabs your wrists and, pulling at them, he holds them behind your back, bending your arms.

With one hand, Jungkook keeps you still, gripping your wrists so tightly that you're sure you'll wear his marks for days. While he fucks you he releases the adrenaline of the encounter, the anger of not having seen you last time, and the explosive desire he has had of you for weeks.

He spanks you.

Again, and again.

He does it until the mark of his hand is imprinted on your ass, a mark that will last on your skin for a long time.

You are his.

His and only his.

You belong to Jungkook.

With each spank, you thank him.

He grits his teeth, thrusting into you forcefully and violently. He pushes his cock into your wet pussy with precision and fervor.

The sound of his length slamming into you makes you tremble, it's a sound so obscene, so wet that it brings you close to the edge.

He understands, recognizing the signals of pleasure building relentlessly in your belly.

One of his hands slips between your legs, his rough fingers teasing your swollen and pulsating clit.

He moves his fingertips against you in fast circular motions, in rhythm with the impetuous thrusts of his cock.

You pulse around his length, the orgasm getting closer and closer.

"Come. Come on my cock, little one, go ahead," he growls, abusing your clit until all you can do is tremble, caught in spasms.

Jungkook's voice caresses your ears and gives you the final push you need to finally let go and surrender to pleasure.

"C-Cumming, K-kookie! F-for you, I'm cumming for you!"

You cum, just like that, trembling and covering his cock with your pleasure.

Drops of it splash down his cock, and your pussy pulses against him again and again, making him grunt and moan.

Even Jungkook trembles.

He leans forward, burying his face in the hollow of your neck and bites you.

He bites your shoulder, sinking his teeth into your sensitive skin, and Jungkook buries himself even deeper in your hole, now almost at his limit too.

You are exhausted, hypersensitive. Your clitoris begs for mercy, and he shows a little compassion by stopping teasing it.

He pants against your neck, his warm breath colliding with your skin, and your body feels like it's filled with pure electricity.

Then, he grabs a piece of skin between his lips and starts sucking.

Next to the bite, a purplish bruise now occupies your otherwise pristine neck.

Despite the tiredness, despite your body begging for mercy, you take his cock, again and again.

You let him use you to pleasure himself.

You let Jungkook use you to empty his balls, thrusting inside you as much and as hard as he wants.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck, kitten..."

You beg him to do it, to fill you up, to mark you indelibly.

You beg Jungkook to cum inside you, to give you every drop of his thick, warm cum.

"Take it. Fuck, baby, I'm cumming. Christ, can you feel it? Feel it, feel my cum inside you, take it all, every fucking drop."

As he says this, he releases your wrists, now adorned with the marks of his hands.

Deep bruises that will hardly fade.

He grabs you by the hair and turns your face to the side.

He kisses you, bites your lips.

Jungkook's saliva mixes with yours and drips onto your chins.

"All my cum in your pussy, little one. The best pussy I've ever fucked, all mine..."

With these words, he buries himself in you one last time, fulfilling his promises: he fills you. He claims you. He makes you his.

Hot spurts of his cum fill you, and part of you believes to feel every drop filling your pussy.

He thrusts into you and both moan in unison, seized by violent spasms of pleasure.

You both stay still for a while, locked together.

Your breaths mirror each other.

You both tremble and gasp.

Jungkook gently kisses your shoulder, right where he bit you minutes ago, leaving the mark of his teeth.

The gesture is gentle, contrasting with everything you just shared.

Yet, it feels so right.

"Mmh, baby. Here it is, the first prize," he whispers, softly rubbing his cheek against yours.

You smile, reveling in his tender caresses.

Despite his words, though, you feel that in reality, it is you who have won.

[kingkunigami]

— Kunigami Rensuke

Masterlist.

Keeping every other player on their toes was the true goal. Reminding them that he deserved his place— that he was meant to be here. But Kunigami wouldn’t deny that obtaining a prize that every other man on the field coveted was a good enough reward. He really was the wildcard, in every sense of the word.

Warnings: 18+, dubcon, spit, Kunigami’s got an oral fixation, blow jobs, no prep, unprotected sex, light choking, squirting, creampie.

Pairing: Kunigami Rensuke x f!reader.

Word Count: 2.8k.

If there was ever a man who didn’t appear to want the prize he’d rightfully won, it would be Kunigami Rensuke. Lingering in the doorway as you felt the cool chill seep into the room from behind him, prickling against your form as goosebumps began to appear against your forearms. The sheer lingerie doing little to hide your exposed skin as you shuffled on your knees against the soft sheets, your nipples hardening against pretty lace as you watched his tongue slip out to wet his lips.

It was as though this prize wasn’t good enough, that he was still searching for more. Every trophy and accolade he rightfully stole from every other player put on the field would never matter until his name was positioned at number one.

Keeping every other player on their toes was the true goal. Reminding them that he deserved his place— that he was meant to be here. But Kunigami wouldn’t deny that obtaining a prize that every other man on the field coveted was a good enough reward for now, stealing a last minute shot at goal instead of passing to Chigiri to land the ball in the top left corner— barely an inch from the post. A chance that had paid off well now that he was standing where the other twenty-one men on the field wished they could be.

No one would deny that he’d been through a lot to get this far— probably far more than most. A man that had tasted the disgusting bile of failure rise in his throat, the defeat one he promised himself he would never feel again. Arguably working far harder than his teammates to reclaim his position at the top, biting at the ankles of his competitors as he allowed natural selection to take place.

And Kunigami couldn’t lie, it felt good to be victorious. So used to the pack mentality of victory, succeeding at the hands of others. But this one? It was his. You were his. And he would return to the rest of his team with a story to prove it.

He took four long strides to meet you at the foot of the bed, like a lion stalking its prey as he towered over you. His hand was gentle when he cupped your cheek, leaning into his touch as you grasped onto the warmth of it. Feeling a rush of blood pump through your veins when you looked up to meet his burning gaze, enough to scorch your skin as you felt it set fire to you all the way down to your core.

“They were right,” He murmurs, “You are really pretty.”

Your heart jumped at his words, thinking about what sort of things the footballers said about you. Picturing them crowded around in their changing room at half-time, doused in dirt and sweat as they spilled their pure depravity. Talking about every filthy thought they had about you, or the lewd opinions of those who’d had a taste. Your clit pulsing in response as you swallowed thickly, wondering what Kunigami’s role had been in the conversation.

“So,” He hummed, tracing the calloused pad of his thumb over your glossy lips, the stickiness tacking you to him, “What can I do to you?”

“Anything.”

“Shit,” A groan rumbled from deep in his chest, his eyes fluttering as he felt his cock pulse beneath his shorts, “Anything?”

“Yeah—” Kunigami pushed his thumb past your lips as soon as he felt you part them to speak, pressing down on the pad of your tongue as your lips closed around it. Staring up at him obediently through thick lashes as you hollowed your cheeks, causing a deep blazing heat to burn in his pelvis.

“Fuck,” He growled, pumping his thumb slowly as his palm caged your jaw. Tilting your head as he used his strong grip you open your mouth, pursing his lips as he spat into your open mouth, “Hold it.”

You felt the moisture collect at the back of your throat from the way your head was tilted, your tongue wobbles as he draws back to dip his thumbs into the hem of his shorts. Pulling them down enough to free his heady cock, the tip swollen and bruised deep crimson as a a pearlescent glob of pre beads at the tip. You whimpered at the debauched sight, his spit gargling at the back of your throat as you squeezed your thighs together in a feeble attempt to alleviate the ache throbbing between them.

“Fu-uck,” Kunigami groaned as he felt the warmth of your mouth engulf him when he guided his cock inside you, deliberately smearing his pre against your pouty lips as he watched you begin to bob your head obediently.

The sordid stories he’d heard in the showers after practise were nothing compared to the sight of you in front of him like this now. His cock disappearing inside your wet mouth as his hips stilled to watch the way you leaned forward to try and take more of him.

“Cute,” He hummed when the confidence grew inside you as you tried to take a little too much of him, feeling his swollen tip hit the back of your throat as you pulled back with a gag. Spluttering as spit began to drool down your chin, landing on your chest as you regained your breath. Kunigami couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward to tug at the straps of your bra, tugging them along your shoulders as he pulled the cups down enough to free your round tits.

He sucked a hiss through gritted teeth when you tried again, your spit drying against his length as you engulfed him in warmth once more. His slender fingers reached down to toy with your stiffened peaks as he tugged one between his thumb and forefinger, “You like that?”

You tried to speak around him, slurring your words as he smirked in satisfaction. Pulling your nipple away from your body to let it go, your breast bouncing back into place in favour of him reaching his palm around the back of your neck. Cradling your head at the base of your skull as he begun to thrust his hips forward into your mouth, deliberately trying to press his leaking tip against the back of your mouth with each forward motion. Drawing more debauched noises from your throat, as more spit pooled down onto your bare breasts.

“You’re such a mess,” He groaned, his hand tight at the back of your head as he held you down on his length. Watching as pearly tears begun to clump in your lashes as they blurred your vision, gagging as his thick tip pressed against your throat. Cutting off your oxygen supply as he continued to hold you firm and steady, jaw locked with intent as he pushed you further. Your nose buried in the messy nest of hair at the base of his cock as you took in every inch of him; Cutting off any chance of breathing, thick tears now streaming down the apples of your cheeks as your hands came up to claw at his muscular thighs. Leaving dark, crimson lines against the skin as you clawed at him for relief.

“That’s it, you got it—” The lack of oxygen how had your eyes rolling back into your skull as Kunigami finally took pity on you, easing his grip with a sharp hiss as you marked him, “Good girl.”

Glistening strings of spit and pre snapped off between your bodies, sticking to your chin as you looked at the deep gashes you’d left against his skin. Low enough on his thighs to be seen when he was wearing his shorts out on the pitch, and that’s exactly what Kunigami wanted— his teammates would probably think him far too much of a prude to do anything with you, but he’d show them. A cocky, knowing smirk on his lips when he prepared in the locker room before practise.

You squealed when he bent down to curl his palms around your thighs. His heavy cock glistening with your spit as it bobbed from the sudden motion, pulling your legs out from beneath you as your back met the satin sheets. Pulling you to the edge of the bed as though you weighed nothing until your ass was practically hanging off the edge of it. Thighs either side of his muscular frame as he was gifted the perfect view between your thighs, noticing the dark stain on the fabric as he brushed his knuckles against it. Smirking when your sensitive body jolted upon contact.

“So you said I can do anything,” Kunigami mused, pressing his thumb down against your clothed clit, “That mean I can fuck this pussy raw?”

“Yes,” You gasped, shamelessly spreading your legs wider to give him more access as he began to trace his fingers along the apex of your thighs, dangerously close to the hem of your panties.

The position he had you in left you nowhere to plant your feet, almost uncomfortable as you fought to hold your legs in the air, pressing your legs against his hips as Kunigami pulled your panties to the side to reveal your lustrous cunt to his eager gaze.

“Shit,” He shook his head, darkened eyes hidden behind his messy mop of ginger hair, “Is there anything I can’t do?”

“No,” You answered truthfully. So desperate for some kind of relief you truly would’ve allowed him to do anything to you in this moment, to use your body in any sick and twisted way he deemed fit.

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else,” Kunigami snarled, roughly pushing your thighs back towards your chest as he curled his tall body over you. His rigid cock laid flat along the length of your creamy slit as you felt his weighty balls press against the curve of your ass, “And you’re gonna take it.”

The thick veins that forked along the length of him grazed your clit as he smoothed himself in your slick, the swollen tip of his cock catching against your tight ill-prepped hole as he pressed two fingers inside you crudely. A debauched squelch sounding around the room from how wet you are, as he began to scissor them roughly in a feeble attempt at prepping you for the sheer length of him.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the feeling of him breaching your tight heat, stealing the wind from your lungs as the length to his cock immediately had him spearing your insides. What he made up for in girth, he compensated for when his swollen tip nudged your cervix.

“Oh, fuck.”

With his feet still poised on the ground, Kunigami hovered over you and began to fuck into you hard and precise. Determined to have you remembering him over all of his competition— Wanting to be your number one.

You felt the weight behind his thrusts as his full balls slapped against your ass with each forward motion, echoing in your ears but drowned out by the sultry moans that escaped past your parted lips. His darkened eyes almost black as they stare down at you with such scrutiny that you can’t match his gaze, letting your head lull to the side as he keeps himself folded over you. Your tits bouncing with the ferocity of his thrusts.

No longer the prized golden boy you’d once seen at the start of the program, now a tainted man with the weight of the world on his shoulders as he let every ounce of emotion pour out into his pace.

Kunigami pressed his palm flat against your sternum before sliding along your clavicle, weaving his fingers around the column of your neck as you felt the tips of his fingers press into your jaw. Turning your head back to face him as you met his gaze, clenching around him in response as his palm began to tighten around your windpipe.

The head of his cock kissed your cervix with each forward motion, and he was so deep inside you were certain you could feel him in your lungs. The constricting of air only increased the sensation as your walls pulsed around him, squeezing his length as you began to feel the telltale signs of your release. Far too pent up to try and fight it as you lay helpless beneath him, feeble attempts at his name spilling from between your parted lips.

“They didn’t fuck you like this, did they?” Kunigami was eager to prove himself to you. Hungry and desperate for this sick source of validation that would hold him above all the others, to place him at number one, “They didn’t make you feel as good as me?”

And you couldn’t answer even if you’d wanted to. The pleasure building inside you made it difficult to think of anything other than the way he managed to keep you dangling on the edge of your release. Desperate for something that would have you tumbling over the edge, to have you coming undone for him.

Sacrificing his grip around your neck in favour of pressing a palm flat against your pelvis, pulling back the hood of your clit as his calloused thumb pressed messy circles against it. The weight of him enough to increase the pressure to breaking point as you began to writhe beneath him, trying to ignore the dull throb from your bladder as you fought back the relief. Your pliant walls tightening around him in response as he sneered down at you through bared teeth.

“I can’t, I’m gonna pee!” You flushed, wide panicked eyes staring up at him.

“Don’t fight it, just let go.” He pressed down harder, strumming your puffy clit as your toes began to curl. Crying out his name as you felt a warm, wet stream of squirt begin to gush against his pelvis. His hand quick to intercept it and have it flying in all directions. Soaking his palm and the sheets beneath you as he grinned in satisfaction.

“That’s it—” He groaned, ignoring your pleas for him to give you a moments respite, “Just like that.”

You weren’t sure you had anything left to give as your climax hit you like a freight train, trembling around him as Kunigami still managed to coax more streams out of your willing body. Almost as wet as the tears that streaked down your temples from overstimulation as your body trembled beneath him.

“Bet no one else has made you do that, hm?” He groaned, the crude squelch echoed in your ears as the heat boiled inside you.

Kunigami pressed his hands against the back of your thighs as he resumed his frantic pace, the muscles in his body constricting as he used you for his own release. Working himself towards his climax as he leaned his weight over you to smash his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss that was all tongue and teeth, feeling you clench around him at the sensation as he found his release. Groaning against your lips as his warm breath fanned your skin and he spilled his release into your velvety walls. His hips still rutting as he fucked his cum deep inside you, reluctantly pulling away when he had nothing left to give.

He kept his grip on your thighs when he pulled out of your spent cunt, watching your fluttering hole slowly start to push his spend out in thick white globs as it drooled down your slit towards your asshole. He wished he’d brought a phone in to document the scene, a filthy snapshot to share in the lockerroom the next day to prove his worth. His fingers quick to collect his spunk as he scooped it up with his fingers to push it back inside you, cherishing the final tremors of you around him as he pulled your panties back in place. Giving a final pat to the crotch as he pulled away from you, staring down at you with a shy smile.

It was like he was a different man now, smooth hands stroking along your aching thighs as he pressed a kiss to your knee.

“I— uh, can I get you anything?” He mumbled shyly, the powerful intense man gone as he finally revealed the soft glow in his auburn eyes.

“You don’t have to,” You smiled, letting your fingers run through his hair as your nails grazed his scalp. Letting his cheek rest against your inner thigh as he stared up at you.

“Well— do you want to cuddle?” He seemed nervous to even ask.

“Isn’t that a waste of your time?” You whispered, knowing the real reason for why each man was really here.

“It would never be a waste of time,” Kunigami moved to hover above you, his sticky cock pressed against your inner thigh, “And besides, I’ll be back again tomorrow.”

[s0lar-ch3ri]

wish we could talk but your stone walls leave me hurt

(title is lyric from here we go again by mikayla geier i believe is her last name, theres a tiny bit of arguing but its hurt/comfort guys its not like my other one i prommy)

Troy thought he was pretty freaking great. I mean, he was. He won so many games (3/7, that’s a huge number), everyone loved him (everyone who mattered at least), and he was so awesome (this one didn’t need any explanation). His little bee might be a tad on edge, but that’s fine. No, that’s completely normal and not his fault at all. Nothing for Troy to worry about.

Cog, did it get cold! I mean, Troy’s so smart, he knows snow is cold, but it’s been a bit since it got bad enough to a point where they had him go home earlier (it was NOT from the wipeout, shut up, that didn’t happen, and he didn’t need to tell anyone it happened). It may have been closer to go to his dad’s house, a bit easier too, but Troy liked a little challenge, it kept him on his feet and ready for anything. He wasn’t ever worried to show his dad when he got hurt, or anybody, he just wanted to visit his pretty awesome boyfriend and had no ulterior motives ever.

A feeling Troy wasn’t used to, yet was getting too often to like, was a twinge in his chest as he went to knock on the door. There was the smallest of voices in the back of his head, one saying he’d be turned away and shamed, one who said he’d be unwanted if he showed up in this state. But he’s Troy! He’s awesome, the most awesome, and ever so cool. In fact, dare he say it, he’s the best ever! He doesn’t need to worry. This is Lint, and if Lint loved him, everyone loved him, everyone that mattered.

He knocked on the door.

Lint opened the door, a look of concern on his face as he met Troy’s gaze (who wouldn’t look at Troy with such care, he’s so awesome, right?), looking at him up and down as if trying to decipher what he’d say to a brick wall.

“You’re hurt.”

“Hoo hah rise up?”

“Gah, get inside.”

It seems as though Lint wasn’t charmed the pants off by his totally awesome and not-at-all goofy smile. Maybe he didn’t like when the facial injuries made blood drip from him. Whatever, men covered in blood might be hot. That’s- that’s a normal thought. Yes it is. One hundred percent. We move on.

It wasn’t exactly the first time Lint had to patch Troy up from injuries of steam-sledding. It’s just never been under this kind of circumstance. It’s been after tournaments and such, but not too much Troy going to Lint’s house as the sun was setting to get something cared for. Which, that totally wasn’t the plan, he just wanted to see his boyfriend, who could agree he’s awesome, unlike his dad (well, he totally would, just- it’s complicated, shut up, don’t think about it).

“What was it this time?”

“Huh?”

“The reason you’re this bad? How big a fluke was it?”

“Psh, no, it’s nothing, I’m fine. Thanks though.”

Lint stopped cleaning the wounds. “You can’t be doing this again.”

“Hm?”

“You can’t keep fucking- no, I’m not gonna put up with this again!” It’s a kind of anger Troy wasn’t used to. Troy, however smart he totally is, was utterly lost in whatever Lint could mean. He tilted his head in a way that may or may not resemble that of a confused dog as Lint put down the cleaning tools and stormed to the other side of the room. His hands were shaking (he couldn’t have been cold, his place was pretty warm, strange), and his breathing seemed more stiff, as if he was forcing himself to breathe at a normal pace (not that Troy would know anything about that, totally).

“Dude- I mean babe, my Honey Bee, what’s up?” Troy was a master of words.

“I don’t like being lied to Troy, you- you should know this!”

“Lie-”

Lint turned to yell at him, as if the raising of his voice wasn’t enough to send a message (knowing Troy, maybe it never was). “Every time I bother to ask, it’s always nothing, or something to not worry over, just-” He starts angrily buzzing. He does that.

Troy walked over to him, trying to grab onto his hands, trying to make sense of him. “Can’t you just tell me what’s wrong dude-”

Lint smacked away his hands, they stung a bit (pun unintended). Lint had so much anger in his eyes. Troy caught onto the tears that streamed from them, like a slowly melting ice glacier. “Can’t you just tell me what’s wrong dude?!!”

“I don’t und-”

“TALK TO ME COG-DAMN IT! I CAN FUCKING TAKE IT! I’M YOUR BOYFRIEND, WHY CAN’T YOU TRUST ME?!”

Troy went silent. His heartbeat was pretty fast. He was shaking, but totally from the cold. They were still inside. It was just the cold, yeah. Lint was shaking too, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“H-”

“Go.”

Normally, Troy hated taking orders. However, this was Lint, and he was Troy, and Lint loved Troy, and Lint was the only one that mattered. He walked into some side room (he didn’t know if he wanted to risk the cold outside with unwrapped wounds), closing the door carefully and sitting behind it.

Troy can’t recall if he’s ever seen his boyfriend so angry. He doesn’t know if he’s just never shown it before. Troy held himself to be so great, and Lint always agreed. He didn’t want to give him any other idea. He didn’t need to give anybody that idea, he was awesome, and he never needed to explain why.

Maybe that’s because Troy couldn’t figure out how to explain why.

As Troy? He’s Troy, he’s gonna always be awesome! As a person? People wouldn’t get it when he explained that. He to them was self-absorbed, vain, an idiot, and thinking how, he’s unsure how wrong he is.

Maybe that was the issue. He was too great.

He couldn’t be anything but great. Not for his dad, not for his team, not for Lint. It was really a lie when he told him it was nothing, huh?

Cog, how many times had he said that? He couldn’t remember. Every small dismissal of himself, the asking without thanks- has Troy ever even said please? Lint has done so much good for someone who was great, so why has someone so bad done nothing for someone so much better than great could be? He took his boyfriend for granted, and yet he’s stayed because…Troy doesn’t know. His greatness? Is he really that? His steamsledding skills? Considering the situation, those weren’t good enough for him, and even if they were, Lint wasn’t that kind of guy. His looks? Not that kind of guy again, no, he thought of nothing Lint could be with him for.

Troy probably wasn’t unlikable, just…unsure if he was dating material.

A knock outside startled Troy, making him jump forward a bit more than he should have. The door opened, a puffy-eyed and tired Lint staring down at a still-injured and looking-like-a-flame-in-a-snowstorm Troy on the ground, slightly wide-eyed.

“I never finished helping you.”

“How long have I been in-”

“My bathroom? 5 minutes. C’mon Sugar.”

Even if he weren’t injured, Troy wobbled up, Lint having himself used as a crutch.

“It-”

“Is fine, now let’s finish up.”

Troy nodded. Lint knew how to bandage well, it was a good amount of tightness. He just watched Lint’s hands, his slightly shaking, something he knew wasn’t from cold. Lint had careful, caring movements. Troy wondered how well he’d do at those. They were both silent, minus a silent hum from Lint as he worked. Cog, he sounded pretty. Troy needed to do better for him.

“I don’t get it,” a breath Troy lost with his boyfriend’s beauty and his own pride.

“Get what?” Lint buzzed at him.

“You stick around, you continue to love me, when I just…Don’t do it right. Why?” Troy was ever so small and fragile, he felt like a thin piece of glass, and the blizzard was coming.

“Because I want to love you.” He said like it was the simplest answer in the world.

Troy snickered a bit. His bee was lovely.

His bee.

“I’m gonna do better.”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna be a better boyfriend, for you.” He could have thought he was. He just didn’t want to lie.

“...I’d like that, I think.” There was a small smile on Lint’s face, a small snicker too.

A big smile formed on Troy’s face. “Aw, are you laughing at me dude?”

“It’s not everyday you-”

“Yeah? I what?” He was holding back a world of giggles.

“I can’t help but laugh if you’re a bit of an idiot-” He finished up the bandaging, which was good, as Troy grabbed him into the couch and restrained him with a hug.

“I’m gonna get you for that dude!”

Now the two of them were laughing, with Troy bear-hugging Lint, and Lint playfully trying to push him off. After a bit, they settled, Troy simply spooning Lint on his couch.

“I wanna stay over the night.”

“We can arrange that.”

“I love you, don’t know if I say it enough.”

“You have time to do it more. I love you too.”

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

SUMMARY: Life was easy until you meet the eye candy of your life and the adventure with him is a hell of ride, but there is certain someone who seems to get hurt in this.

PAIRINGS: Gynecologist Jungkook X reader ft. bartender yoongi

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

A/N: lol I see no one wants to get tagged in this when I posted the snippet but anyway the tag list is open, and please guys don't let this flop; [ I worked really hard to get motivated enough and write, and this a series and this the first part.✨smut will be there eventually ✨

Note : this is inspired by a web series and I’m GONNA EDIT IT , I’m not gonna make it a whole ass 3 season containing 10-12 episodes per season and I felt like I could do something with this series. Thankyou

Your surroundings suddenly felt hot, the interns did a great job explaining the project to the clients sitting in front of you. The air conditioner did a shit job of keeping the surroundings but it's just you because you see your other intern rubbing her palms under the table.

The meeting was about to end and just when you were about to get up from the chair to leave the hall, the intern called out your name just so you could brief out the entire thing and thank the clients, grabbing on the metal stick you stand in the place where your intern was speaking.

"I hereby extensively elaborate on the profile success of our company, we all can see the numbers of shares growing quickly, see for yourselves" You point to the whiteboard where the graph was made, your company making progress in these past years.

"We can be a great profit for the leading country, sir, I hope you can see the numbers growing live" You then point to the laptop which has a live count of people buying the shares from the company, in the middle while everyone was focused you undo some of the buttons of your red satin shirt and mutter about the poor air conditioner "why am I so damn hot?"

Just when you were about to continue you see Mr. Jeon sitting on one of the chairs that too naked, just in his Calvin Klein boxers, what the fuck? "Yes Ms. Kim, why are you so damn hot?" Jungkook says he rises from his seat climbs over the desk and walks towards you.

you can see the client in shock and eye him, while he climbs down from the table your doctor "Mr. Jeon" is in front of you, his eight packs abs and muscular biceps all out to see, just when you are registering about his details, he picks up the glass of water on the table and drops it all over the neck and you hiss at the cold feeling.

Jungkook scurries the files away from the table and picks you up so you can sit on the table, your shirt is then unbuttoned by him, and he lays soft kisses and slowly bends you down completely until your back is pressed on the table.

Beep beep beep

A loud beep of your alarm drags you out of the dream and you gasp and sit up "fuck did I just have a wet dream about my doctor?" you mutter and grab your phone to off the alarm, you check the number of notifications you had overnight and stumble upon the "doctor's appointment" reminder.

Gasping for the second time now you scurry away from the bed to get a nice warm shower and head to the mister ever so sexy man your doctor "Jeon Jungkook".

"It's itchy lately, hasn't got better since last week" You talk to the man who is between your legs while you keep trying to not moan while checking your vagina. "You may get dressed now and it looks completely fine, and I can't see any infection" Jungkook says and stands straight and moves to his chair right behind the desk giving you some space so you can change.

closing the blinds and getting dressed you place the hospital gown tidily in the basket and move to his table, you grab on the sanitizer which is on his table pump a few drops on yours and apply it while your doctor writes down the prescription.

You notice the hot features of a sleeve tattoo of his you saw on his Instagram when you stalked him on the first day of meeting him, the depth of his gaze looked enchanting, and the afternoon sunlight complimented his skin tone well while you were busy studying his features a small cough brings you out of the daydream.

"Here miss y/n" The doctor hands you the prescription and you widen your eyes seeing at the statement which had written "bath three times a day" You eye him and check yourself by smelling when he isn't looking, and you smell perfectly fine because you sprayed almost the bottle of the perfume and bathed with the new soap bar you bought recently. Giving him a crooked smile you leave the room embarrassed.

Crumbling the paper you place it in your purse and straight away call your best friends to meet up for a brunch and she gladly accepts.

"No, but like seriously y/n" Chae and Yuna both seem shocked and confused and you appear to be more embarrassed "Yeah, he wrote that in the prescription" You show her the paper Jungkook gave you, and she says he wrote it so that you could maintain a proper hygiene and you buy it and proceed to eat your brunch in the cafe.

"Chae Yuna, you can go ahead I'm staying back so I can spend some time with Yoongi, I haven't been catching up on him." Tell her you give her a hug and a kiss on the cheeks, and you part ways.

You head to the bar where yoongi works as a bartender and you make sure to buy his favorite chocolate on your way, you reach there in less than five minutes and there you see Yoongi arranging the glasses in line just to make them fancier.

"Hey, how are you?" Yoongi is slightly confused to see you in the middle of the day and that too a weekday, you chuckle at him, and you tell him you are fine, and you had to meet a friend and not tell him the details about the meeting with the doctor.

"You up for a drink y/n?" The sweet boy asks you and you gladly accept it, looking here and there you realize he is working alone and his intern who never fails to hit on Chae is missing.

"Is Taehyung not here?" you ask him, and he says he had ditched today just because he had an early date and will be here for the night shift nodding you accept his famous highball, "you want any help? I'm free for the day" you offer him, and he casually refuses, and you become a bit sad, but you play it cool.

Yoongi looks at your features and chuckles and tells you he is just kidding and won't mind your help and he's rather happy you want to help him, before coming back to the other side of the table you hand him the chocolate you bought.

Helping him and chatting for a while you hug him and say goodbye, you notice a bit of blush creeping on his cheeks but you wave it up because it can be the alcohol you both drank, and you get back to your home and get a bit of rest so you can wake up fresh and get back on your work from home.

Taglist: @jungk97kwife, @kimmingyuswifee ,@kingofbodyrolls

A/n : this short but hehe more is yet to come 💖