#he’d eat shit so fast

[raspberrybesitos]

I NEED TO STOP LISTENING TO MY SPANISH PLAYLIST BC I KEEP GETTING FUCKING DISTRACTED I CAN CREATE A WHOLE UNIVERSE FOR DANCING WITH JAVI ONCE I’M DONE WITH MY DEJA VU SERIES

but also just imagine dancing with Javi??? whether at the clubs to salsa or merengue or even at los bailes back home in Texas con sus botas omg i want to dance jaripeo with him sooooo bad 😫😫😫

[bibleofficial]

my father asked me ‘why do u belittle ur brother so much’ like BC YALL FUCKING CODDLED HIM HIS ENTIRE LIFE SO HES STUPID

[classyrbf]

SHE'S A SUCCUBUS! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...as a sex demon, she can always sense the horny virgin boy who’s dying to lose his virginity

INFO...choso x succubus!reader, sub!choso, virgin!choso, somnophilia, riding, overstim, creampie, oral (m!receiving and f!receiving), slight ass eating, cum eating, doggy, squirting, choso is super needy and eager, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Choso always felt left out when his friend would constantly talk about all the girls they’ve been with, all the experiences they had and what crazy shit they always got into. He’d just sit there, silent. He couldn’t relate to them not one bit. The closest he’s ever to having sex is his right hand or a sex toy. No girl ever looked his way, and his confidence was crushed. They’d only go after his friends, practically drooling over them. Not one of them spared a glance towards Choso.

He was begging to lose his virginity, dying to know what real pussy felt like, how soft tits felt in his hands or even some ass. God, don’t even get him started on wondering what it feels like to receive head. His friends swear it’s the best thing ever as long as the girl knows what she’s doing. He always watches porn, the women on their knees, slobbering all over the man dick like it was some divine dessert. He loved watching the way their pussies wrapped around the mans dick, just imagining how wet and warm it is. He was a lost cause. At this point, he was ready to pay someone to take his virginity. Literally.

And just like any other night, he goes back home, ready to fuck his fist to another average porn video before dozing off to sleep. He’s been extremely horny lately, more than usual and he can’t understand why. Not to mention the wet dreams he’s been having, waking up to cum in his pants like he’s a damn teenager. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, feeling the need to cum more and more everyday.

Hours later, he’s fast asleep, tossing and turning as he has another wet dream of someone riding him. He can’t make out her face, but it feels so damn real. Everything does. Even her moans and the weight on top of him. “Mmm,” he hums. His brows furrow. He can even hear the sound of skin on skin. His entire body feels like it’s on fire right now, like he’s been hit with some sort of sex pollen. It’s more intense than ever.

Little does he know it’s not a wet dream, no, it’s you. The succubus who’s been watching him for weeks, feeling his urgency to cum, to lose his virginity. He’s summoned you without even realizing. And now you were riding him, gliding your wet pussy up and down his aching cock while he slept, waiting for the moment he wakes up and realizes he’s no longer a virgin. He twists and turns when you run your clawed nails down his pale skin, smiling at the way he moans and whimpers in his sleep.

Choso couldn’t take this overwhelming feeling anymore, forcing himself to wake up, prying his tired eyes open. But the feeling doesn’t stop. The sounds don’t stop. And certainly the woman is his dreams doesnt disappear when he opens his eyes. “Wha—ah—what? Who…? Oh fuck!” He rasps, eyes darting around the room and over your naked body. “What the fuck? Oh my goddd.” As confused and scared as he is right now, he can’t escape the pleasure coursing through him right now.

“Shhh, shhh, just let me make you feel good. You’ve been dying for this haven’t you? I’m here to give you exactly what you want.” You slightly lean back, spreading your legs to let him get a clear view of the way your pussy sucks his cock in.

He looks at you with awe and confusion, but he can’t help but give in, moaning so sweetly when you fully sink down. “Who…who are you?” He gasps, eyes widen when you clench your pussy around him.

“I know when cute virgins like you wanna lose their virginity. You summoned me, accidentally. You’ve been so worked up lately, huh? Well,” you smile, “that was because of me.” His cock twitches inside of you, your hips bouncing faster and harder, watching the way he mouth falls open.

“Fuck, fuck! It’s feels so good,” he heaves, breathing heavily. His cheeks dusted a light pink. “I don’t wanna cum just yet, please slow down. Please, please—nnghhh, fuckkkk.” Choso didn’t stand a chance, shooting sticky ropes of cum into your pussy, his entire body quivering with how intense his orgasm was. “Please, slow down—ah, oh my god. It feels too good—” His eyes rolled into the back of his head as you kept fucking him.

“I’ll keep fucking you till there’s nothing left.” You lean forward, pressing your chest against his, placing your lips on his while you kiss him with such fervor, with such sloppiness. His hands reach down, gripping the plush flesh of your ass. He swears he’s in heaven right now. This can’t be real. No way a sex demon was taking his virginity right now. His dick was so sensitive, but still so hard. He knew he had so much cum left, the only thoughts he had were to fill you up over and over until it was dripping out.

He felt like he was losing his mind, fucking him so hard, creating a sloppy mess where you two met just so you can get him to cum again. Your devilish yet sweet giggles send chills up his spine and straight down to his already throbbing dick. With labored breaths, and his heart rattling against his rib cage, he already knows he’s going to cum again. So soon. “Come don’t hold back on me. I want it all,” you growl in his ear. “I’ll do whatever it takes to empty you dry and fuck you stupid.”

His trembling fingers grip onto your ass harder as he cries out, broken moans swallowed by your kisses and he can’t help but cum again, filling up your tight pussy to the brim. You pull away from the heated kiss looking at the way his hazy eyes stare up at you with such desperation. You halt the movement of your hips and get up from his lap. “No, no, wait. Where are you going?! Please, keep fucking me.” He sits up, watching you get on your knees. Poor thing looks like he’s almost about to cry.

And now he can get a real good view of you. The tail that swayed around and the small little horns that pointed from the top of your head. You really were a sex demon. Your hand took a firm grip on his throbbing cock, his tip leaking like it was begging you to make it cum again. “I can see your thoughts. Your nasty little thoughts.” You run a long stripe from his balls all the way to his tip, licking the excess cum off. Your tongue was freakishly long, but god did it feel so good on him. You spit on his cock, massaging it in as you stroke him, moving your hand in circular motions that make his hips jump. “Say it. I know what you’re thinking.” Your lips curl into a smirk, running the pad of your thumb over his slit.

“Put…put your mouth on it, please,” he says barely above a whisper, too shocked to even form proper words.

“Louder.” You massage his balls with your free hand, earning a guttural groan from him.

“Please, put your mouth on it! Fuck, I wanna know how good it feels!” His lip quivers, his breathing quickening the closer your lips get.

“Good boy.” You smile, darting your tongue out and wrapping it around the base of his cock, swirling it around the head before you take him in your mouth. You stare at him through thick lashes, bobbing your head up and down his thick shaft, spit spilling from the corners of your mouth. Glug, glug, glug.

The sound of you choking on his dick was like music to his hears, taking his all the way down your throat with no problem. How is he supposed to keep up? His brain is fried and his body already feels so weak from cumming two times in a row. But he can’t stop. It’s like you’ve put some kind of spell on him to make him want more. “Shit, I’m all the way in,” he gasps, fall back onto the pillows. You pull him out of your throat, string of saliva connect from your lips to his cock as you continue stroking him. You were so messy, so nasty, but he loved it so fucking much because this is always how he’d picture it.

You spit back on his cock before taking him down your throat again without warning. “Oh my—fuck me, I’m gonna fucking cum again!” He whimpers. His body jolts and his abs tense up at the sensation, pleasure shooting through his body like electricity. He’s so sensitive he can’t help it. His hips buck up into your mouth and next thing he knows, he’s cumming down your throat. “Nnngh shit!” He groans, each orgasm more intense than the last. It’s like as time goes on, he can’t help but get more horny, more greedy.

Within seconds he’s pulling you off his dick on bending you over, pulling your ass in the air. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop, I can’t stop, I can’t,” he’s muttering to himself, sweat dripping down his body. He pushes every inch into you with such ease, like your pussy was made for him. “Feels so good, feels so good I can’t stop stop,” he cries, rummaging his hips into you, fucking hard and fast.

“You’re learning so quickly.” You smile from below him, pushing your ass back against his hips. He watches the way your ass bounces back on his dick and he becomes mesmerized. “That’s it! Fuck me harder. Show me how badly you wanna cum in my pussy again,” you giggle.

Choso pushes your head into the mattress, broken moans falling from his lips. “I need it so badly, so fucking badly.” Your pussy grips him like a vice and he hisses at the tempting feeling.

“Make me squirt all over your cock! Come on, fuck me like you mean it!” You grip the sheets below you, feeling his swollen head press against your sweet spot over and over with each grueling thrust. Upon hearing your words, Choso remembers all those videos he’s watching of girls squirting, and to make you squirt just because of him makes his brain fuzzy. He keeps the same pace, huffing and panting when your pussy grows tighter. “Yes! Yes!” You laugh, sighing in relief when he pulls out and clear liquid shoots from your pussy, coating his cock and sheets.

His eyebrows raise in amazement. “Holy fuck,” he watches the way your pussy leaks before urgently ramming his cock back inside of you. “Do it again. Squirt all over me again! Please! It’s so fucking hot!” He begs as he pounds your pussy like his life depends on it. “Wanna watch you—nnngh—squirt again!”

As if on cue, your pushy gushes around him again, soaking his thighs and his cock and just the sight of it makes him cum so hard he’s toppling over you. “Fuck! I’m cumming!” He thrusts deep inside of you, making sure not to waste even a drop. “Yes, yes!” He huffs, bucking his hips. “I need to taste you, need to fucking—mmm.” He drops to his knees, pulling your ass back against his face while his tongue slurps every drop his cum and your juices, licking through your sloppy folds and sucking on your clit.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? Such a good, good boy.” You praise, reaching behind you, taking a fistful of his hair and pushing his face deeper into your cunt. His moans at your taste, his free hand reaching down to stroke his swollen and sensitive cock. He moves his tongue up and down, running back and forth between your clit and your ass, and back down to your hole. You quickly pull him away before sitting up.

“Did I do something wrong? Why’d you stop?” He looks at with sad eyes.

“You’re done.” You look down at his cock.

“No, no, I’m not. I promise I still have more. Just keep fucking me, let me eat your pussy or something! Don’t leave!” He pouts, watching you crawl towards him.

“As much as I’d like to keep playing with you, you’re all out of cum, pretty boy.” You smirk. “I’ve got other desperate virgins like you to attend to.” You ghost your lips over his and Choso leans in for a kiss but you pull back from him. “You’re welcome.”

You disappear into a dark corner in his room, like you faded away into it. He runs to turn on his light and sees you’re completely gone. He’s at a loss for words, standing in the middle of his room completely naked. He looks towards his bed, seeing the wet spots you had left. So it was real? No? Yes? He didn’t know what to believe. He accidentally summoned a sex demon to take his virginity. If only he could do it again.

[hoshigray]

Pretty Please with a cherry and spinkles ontop😩🙏 I need a Pussymatized Toji. Absolutely infatuated with his FWB. He was the one that said no attachments until he got addicted to her.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: lmao, "pussymatized" is new, but i see the vision!!

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: fwb! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing/making out - implied prior sex - backshots + missionary positions mentioned - oral (f! receiving) - feedbag position - multiple orgasms - Daddy kink - overstimulation - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, sweetie) - clitoral play (licking and sucking) - pussy-whipped! Toji - mention of spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

Toji knew better. He’s done the whole friends with benefits gig plenty of times, and he knows the big rule that comes with the package:

Absolutely no feelings involved, or else the arrangement is off.

“Hoooh…! Ahhhn, T-Toji, stop…Not too fast!”

That is until he met you.

For about a year, you and Toji have been friends with benefits. It started as something Toji told you about, how he’d sleep around and get in those kinds of relationships. You were the one to ask if he’d be down to do it with you.

The onyx-headed one thought about it for a minute until he gave in and said sure. However, he stressed the “no feelings attached” policy intensely. He considered you a dear friend – a rarity in his life – and he didn’t want what you two were doing to damage this close relationship. It was just casual sex with a friend, nothing more. And you nodded to his regulation with a smile, moving your friendship to the next level.

Off the bat, the sex between you two was great! It had been a while since Toji had done stuff like this, and doing it with someone he could trust like you made the interaction smooth and entertaining. Problems between the two of you were rare, and it’s thanks to you two being mature adults that made handling this non-serious relationship easy!

Nevertheless, one thing made this cooperation difficult — at least on Toji’s part. The older man was becoming more and more infatuated with you.

He doesn’t know when it started getting this bad; Toji was never one to be the one catching feelings during these kinds of kinships. So, this was a bit new for him, and it made the poor man go crazy as the days went on. Him? Catching feelings?? Breaking his own rule??? Get real!

But he couldn’t lie to himself, it was all different since he was doing it with you. You were the closest person he could call a friend outside of Shiu, and that never changed once you two became fuck buddies. If anything, things have gotten a lot closer between you two. You cared for his kids while he was away, cooked meals for him because you feared he didn’t eat enough during the day, or invited him on grocery sprees. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t do stuff like that before. Yet now that you and Toji were doing things beyond a regular friendship, the man was seeing you in a new light that he hadn’t seen before, and God, it was suffocating him. He doesn’t know how many of your gorgeous smiles or sweet strings of laughter he can take before he snaps. 

But it wasn’t just your personality and gracious aura that lured him on. As mentioned before, the sex was amazing — No, scratch that; you were amazing. It had been a very long while since Toji had done sexual shit with someone who could reciprocate pleasure. Fuck, you felt so good, whether it was jerking or sucking him off while massaging his balls in your pretty hands, or bouncing on his cock with that tight cunt of yours that had him on the edge, holding on to your waist as he’d piston his cock deep inside. Merely thinking about churning your walls that snug on his cock had him gulp thickly, thinking a heavy sigh would get these thoughts out of his mind.

But they don’t, of course. Because he’d be damned if he’d try to forget the image of your beautiful body all hot and sweaty with his. Your moans and squeaks were all prompted by his thrusts, and – fucking Jesus – he could never get over the way you said his name, so desperate for him with watery, doe eyes that pull him in. Looking all disheveled and alluring for him and only him, peering over your shoulder when he’d hit it from behind like you wanted to see him feel good. Toji would’ve been a fool if he hadn’t fallen for you!

There was a time when Toji’d slip up and hold your hand as he chased release, noticing you catch the sight of his palm and integers gripping yours. Thinking you were uncomfortable, he removed his hand from yours, only for you to wrap your legs around his waist and bring him to you for a kiss. It was just a kiss, is what he’d say to justify it. But hearing you mewl under his lips and whisper to his ears was the last straw for him, hammering his dick and spilling his load into you as you two made out passionately.

Yeah, there was no doubt about it; the guy was falling for you hard.

So hard that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It scared him a bit – the thought of you being his made his heart beat at a pace he hadn’t experienced in a long time. You corrupted his senses; he wanted to hear you, kiss you, feel you, smell you, taste you — fuck, did he want to taste you; it was so bad.

But it wasn’t as bad until you hadn’t stopped by for two weeks. You’d text him your apologies, saying that work caught you up and that you couldn’t see him and the kids. And even then, you’d still manage to throw a phone call before sleep, and Toji doesn’t know if that was better or worse. Your voice made his skin crawl, loving how you spoke to him all soft and fatigued yet affectionately. You were too good for him, having him feel guilty for fisting his cock unbeknownst to you.

He couldn’t take it anymore, being away from you. He could barely go through the first week, and the second had him itching to see you. That’s precisely what he did, calling you to let you know he’d come to see you. And once you opened the door to greet him with a warm smile, that last bit of thread in him had finally snapped.

“Nnmmah! Hic…shtooopp licking…! I’ll cum again, I’m gonna—!!”

After pulling you in for a hungry kiss, the man brought himself inside your apartment with you glued to him. Feverish pecks kept your lips on him, squeaking at how smoothly he picked you up and brought you to the living room couch. He’d suck on your neck while removing your bottoms, already stifling him with your fragrance to the point he shudders. 

He’d trail his kisses downwards, nibbling on certain areas that made you gasp for him, sucking on the skin of your inner thigh as his fingers rubbed on your folds covered by damp underwear. You had him on his knees, uncaring about the angle. His thoughts only thinking about the wet chasm he sees after discarding your panties. Nothing holds him back from plunging his face into your wetness and showing no signs of stopping when you’re wailing for him. He’d lick, lap, and suck on you with no remorse, face utterly stuck on your slit until you came for the first time. 

“—Ahhaa, I’m cummin’, Tojiii! OhJesusChrist—Nnnmoo!”

“Mmmph…! Fuck, c’mere, sweetie, lemme take care of you…”

And now, he’s chased you down for another climax, your legs tremble and your figure shakes as Toji’s tongue relentlessly pets around your labia, frantically licking your clit to expel more fluids to seep out your vagina.

And Toji drinks it all, stuffing his face into your inner thighs like breathing is not an issue. You cry and involuntarily try to close your legs as your nerves are at an all-time high, grabbing tuffs of raven hair. But the man doesn’t allow you to shy away, his strong hands keeping you grounded on the couch as he eats you out. They never leave your frame unless it’s to unzip his jeans to let his erection breathe. Your cute howls of pleasure, your delightful fluids painting his tongue and lips, and your intoxicating smell; all have his hard-on twitch painfully, precum staining his boxer briefs. 

He’s so far gone, his scarred lips kissing on your folds to gently juxtapose the tongue he uses to fuck you. You jerk and jolt, sobbing from the fervent mouth making sure every crevice of your cunt goes explored. Your orgasm still isn’t away, everything feels so sensitive that you feel like you could break.

“Tahhh, Toji, nooo,” you wail, trying to push his head from burrowing deeper between your thighs. Yet he shows no cooperation. “I just came, yer doing t’oo muuch…!”

Now, he finally removes his face from you, his chin wet with your essence which he licks from his lips. “Sorry, mama,” his rich emerald eyes lock with yours, they have you freeze under his gaze. “But I’m not done yet.” You shake your head, inching your hips away from his proximity. But he captures your waist and slides you back down. “Don’t,” he pleads, placing your legs on his shoulders. “One more time fr’ me, ‘kay, baby? Let Daddy have ya one more time.”

An excruciatingly slow lick from down your slit to your clitoris has you quiver, sloppy kisses further the mess of saliva and come between your legs, and you can’t control the throbbing sensation that returns to ache your inner walls. He chuckles, “Look at ya winkin’ at me, guess ya want more of me too, huh, sweetie?” He makes your ears ring and hot, throwing your head back when he spits and sucks on your clit harshly.

This time, Toji straightens his back a bit to lift your legs with him, hands securing you close to him on your hips. It was a view you hadn’t mentally prepared for, seeing your weight be supported easily. 

He continues to lap around your labia, taking in all the excess slick to suck on, not leaving any drop go undiscovered. His precision has you roll your eyes to the ceiling, a hand griping on his wrist as he rubs on your clit.

“Ohhhfuuuck,” your words were slurring together, brain too mushy to cooperate and form eligible sentences. The man between your legs makes that hard enough. You don’t even attempt to squirm out because Toji’s lips will latch right back onto you. “Daddyyy, right there…More, pleasee.”

“Good girl,” he praises, rewarding you with swirls circling your clitoris before a suck, and your legs cross around to push him further. “That’s my girl…Mmmm, fuckin’ Christ, taste too good…” His deep voice sends vibrations up your spine, chewing on your lip when his tongue nestles in between your soaked folds again.

He pushes the wet muscle back inside, groaning at the sensation of you clamping onto him and bucking your hips in his direction. Your cries fill the quiet space, his name coming out in rushed prayers was the only thing that occupies his eardrums. Fuck, he missed this so fucking bad, arms wrapping around your waist as he pushes his face deep, his nose bumping to the hoop of your pearl while he ravishes your insides.

The squelches of his tongue and lips are so raunchy and nasty, you feel like filth being used like this. You’ve long given up the control to conceal your moans, and Toji listens to every single one with intent. 

“—Ohhh! Ffsshiiit…!” Oh, no. You can feel it, the next wave climbing up. “Daddy, again! Gonna cum again, I cann’t...!”

“Yes, you can, mama,” he coos, blowing on your slick-covered lips. “Just a lil’ more fr’ me, ‘kay? Just let it out.” His mouth returns to erratically fuck you with his tongue, and his gruff moans are felt on your body. The pressure of your thighs squeezing him makes it better, hitting your delicate clit with gentle jabs that rock you into your third orgasm.

You scream, unleashing yourself as your climax rocks your being. Toji has a good hold on you, softly using the flat of his tongue to lazily lick your cunt, massaging your waist as your hips ride on his face. And it doesn’t help that the older man’s cock is oozing on his briefs, his thighs twitching with his erection wanting to be freed.

With a dangerous last kiss to your sensitive folds, Toji places your legs back onto the couch, wiping your come off his chin to lick his fingers clean before bringing his jeans and briefs.

“Wh..What’s gotten into you,” you ask with furrowed brows and hooded eyes like his, both misty with wanton thirst. “I see you’ve been more pent up than me.” He chortles at your jest, and you happily accept the tip of his cock into your mouth with a blissful hum.

“You have no idea, baby…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[starryjake]

medicine | s.j

in which jake is sick and the only thing that will make him feel better is a taste of you.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: face sitting, oral sex, jake being sick, squirting, cumming untouched, cumming in pants, face riding (lmk if i missed anything).

jake was game to eat you out at any time.

you’re exhausted after a long day of work or classes? jake was there already kneeling in front of the bed, awaiting your pussy.

it’s the middle of the night and you’re tucked into bed, fast asleep? jake can’t help the craving he gets and just has to have one lick of your addictive taste before he’s able to fall asleep.

you step foot out of the shower and within less than a minute, jake is laying you down in the tub and devouring your pussy.

the point was, it didn’t matter the occasion. jake just always wanted to eat you out.

that was never anything you felt the need to complain about. you knew people who’s boyfriends refused to go down on them and you couldn’t believe it. you and your boyfriend had just about the opposite of that problem.

but since jake was always game, that meant he wanted it even when he was in not-so-great situations himself.

“no, jake,” you said assertively, shaking your head.

“please,” he begged, looking at you with those pleasing puppy-dog eyes.

at any other given time, you would’ve said yes. just like jake always wanted to eat you out, you always wanted to get eaten out. you two were a match made in heaven.

however, jake had picked up some virus going around campus and had been completely knocked out by it. he’d spent the past two days in bed sleeping, trying to rid his body of the sickness.

you’d been his faithful nurse, staying close by in case he needed anything. you made him soup, brought him medicine every few hours, monitored his temperature, and gave him everything else he could’ve possibly needed. except, that is, the one thing he actually wanted.

“why not?” he practically whimpered. “it’s been days. i deserve it. i’ll feel so much better.”

his desperation almost made you laugh. he wanted you so badly and if he wasn’t as sick as he was, you would’ve given it to him, but he just wasn’t well enough. he was still sniffly, still weak, still running a fever, and just simply was not in the right position to be giving you head.

“you deserve it?” you couldn’t hold back the laugh this time.

“i do!” he whined, not finding the situation funny whatsoever. “i’ve been stuck in this bed for days feeling like shit and all i want is to have my face buried between your legs. just a taste, baby, please.”

you shook your head.

“just a taste is gonna turn into you eating me out for hours,” you said.

“and what’s wrong with that?” he pouted.

“you need to be sleeping and getting better,” you told him.

he leaned forward in your shared bed to get closer to you, who was sitting at the foot of the bed. he placed his hand on your thigh, tilting his head to the side.

“your pussy will make me better,” he said softly.

you placed your hand on top of his, looking into his pleading eyes. he was still so handsome, even as sick as he was. you were tempted, you had to admit.

“i don’t know, jake,” you said.

“please, baby,” he begged you, practically on the verge of tears. “i’ll make you feel so good, i promise.”

his pink cheeks, his swollen lips, his teary eyes, you just couldn’t say no to him.

plus, he said it would help him feel better, so how could you argue with that?

“fine,” you gave in. “lay back.”

jake bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling in victory. his eyes lit up when you agreed and he immediately complied, lying back down on his back.

you crawled up the bed until you made it to his abdomen. you planted your knees on either side of him and hovered over his body, second guessing whether you should actually do this.

“are you sure, jake?” you sighed.

jake’s face flashed with terror at the mere idea of you changing your mind. his eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

“i’m sure,” he insisted. “please, i need it. it’s my medicine.”

for whatever reason, his words turned you on. calling your pussy his medicine was all you needed to hear to shuffle your shorts down your legs, leaving you bare and exposed to him.

he licked his lips and watched you closely as you crawled up the remainder of his body until landing by his face. you hovered above him, sighing at the sight of him underneath you.

“sit,” he urged, beyond eager to get his tongue inside you.

“stop me if you can’t breathe,” you warned, knowing his nose was stuffed and his mouth would be occupied.

he didn’t say anything, just grabbed your hips and pulled you down so you were actually sitting on his face.

a surprised moan escaped your lips as jake immediately started licking your folds, gathering all your wetness on his tongue. he moaned, muffled, but the vibrations from it were extremely pleasurable.

you dug your hand in his mop of messy hair, legs already starting to tremble as he swiped his tongue up and down the length of your pussy.

you looked down and you could just tell he was in his most happy place. his eyes were closed, savoring the sensation of licking your pussy and tasting your sweet arousal. he was almost moaning as much as you were, certainly enjoying it as much as you, if not more.

you turned your head back and weren’t surprised at all by the sight of his hips thrusting up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. his neglected cock was straining against his pajama pants, but you knew he wasn’t expecting you to touch him. he just wanted to eat you out, and that was enough for him.

“tastes so fucking good,” he said through an exhale, taking a second to catch his breath.

“are you doing okay?” you asked him, raising yourself off his face.

“more than okay,” he assured you. “i could do this all fucking night.”

he grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto his face, going straight for your clit this time. he wrapped his lips around the bud and sucked on it softly, swallowing your taste.

you yelped, your legs clenching around his face.

“oh fuck, jake,” you cried out, your grip tightening in his hair.

he released his suction on your clit and went back to gliding his tongue up and down your pussy. he stopped at your hole and delved his tongue inside, letting out a broken moan at your tight walls around his tongue.

you found yourself slightly grinding on his face, subconsciously trying to rub your clit against his nose while he thrusted his tongue in and out of your hole. you knew he didn’t care. in fact, he loved it. he loved you humping his face in an attempt to increase the pleasure.

you sat up again, removing your pussy from his face. a string of your arousal mixed with his spit kept your pussy connected to his lips.

he looked up at you in confusion and even a slight hint of frustration as to why you just took away his treat—your pussy.

“why?” he asked urgently.

“your forehead is so warm, jakey,” you said, having brushed against it while you were tugging his hair.

it’d brought you back down to earth, reminding you that you were riding the face of someone who was not entirely up to health.

“i’m fine,” he said, annoyed. “i feel so good, please just come back. let me have it again.”

he was so, so desperate. you knew you should get off and let him get some sleep, but he wanted it so bad. so, you lowered your hips back down to his face and allowed him to lick up your pussy lips.

“fuck, thank you,” he moaned out, relieved to have your warm pussy back on his face. “i feel good, i promise. just need your pussy on me, baby, that’s all.”

you sighed in pleasure, leaning back slightly and starting to grind again. jake closed his eyes again, lapping and slurping at your pussy.

your stomach was warm and the knot would unravel soon, you were sure of it. he was so good at eating you out, you never lasted long.

“harder,” he urged, pulling you down on his face even more. “ride my face harder, baby.”

you whimpered, humping his face harder. your puffy clit hit the tip of his nose every time you fucked your hips forward. jake fucking loved it. he loved inhaling through his nose and smelling your sweet pussy, having it right there in front of him.

he loved you sitting on his face just as much as he loved laying on his stomach and eating you out regularly. he loved when you would just lose all control and ride his face like you were riding his cock. he loved to be used.

“fuck, jake,” you sobbed out. “i’m gonna fucking cum, oh my—don’t stop, please don’t stop. fuck, i’m cumming!”

you squealed as your orgasm washed over you. your legs tightened around his face and his tongue quickened, eating your pussy through your orgasm and lapping at the excess wetness dripping out of you. you fucked his face, letting all your weight sit on him because your brain was in too much of a fog to care.

“fuck,” jake moaned against you. “you’re so fucking hot, angel. wait! don’t get up.”

he gripped your waist, stopping you from climbing off his face.

“why? you should sleep now,” you said, catching your breath from your orgasm.

he shook his head, pulling you back down.

“need more,” he mumbled, lightly circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, going gentle as to not overstimulate you.

“no, jake,” you declined, however made no attempt to stop him.

“shh,” he shushed you, disregarding your words. “please, baby. i just need a little more and then i’ll be all better, promise.”

you whimpered as he rubbed his wet tongue on your drenched folds. he wrapped his arms around your thighs, basically keeping you trapped on his face.

“jake,” you whispered, pushing some stray strands of hair out of his forehead.

“so good,” he mumbled, flattening his tongue. “ride my tongue, baby. c’mon, i know you can do it.”

you started grinding back and forth on his tongue, head falling back at the sensation. his tongue was so warm and wet and felt euphoric as he laid it out for you to use, to rub your spent pussy on.

if jake was paying attention to his own cock, he’d realize how much pain he was in. he was so, so hard, and needed to be touched desperately. but he couldn’t. he just wanted your pussy and nothing else, not even oxygen.

“fuck,” you moaned. “feels so fucking good, jake. i think i’m gonna cum a lot.”

you didn’t know what you were saying. you were so fucked out and jake was too pussy drunk and sick to comprehend your words either.

you knew what you meant, but he didn’t.

you rubbed your pussy all over his face, getting your wetness all over his nose, his cheeks, and his chin. he started licking you again, moaning nonstop.

“i’m gonna—mm, jake! i’m cumming!”

it hit you a lot faster this time, so fast that you couldn’t even give him a proper warning.

you also couldn’t warn him as a stream of wetness shoots out of you. you were squirting all over his face and that was what did it for jake. that was what had him humping his hips up into the air one more time and cumming untouched in his pants.

he moaned, feeling sweaty and lightheaded as he felt your wetness all over his face. briefly, he thought he might pass out. even feeling so weak, he still ate you out through your second orgasm, drinking all the fluid you’d just released and moaning from how delicious it was.

he hummed, babbling nonsense because he was so far gone. you pulled yourself off his face, your pussy twitching from over sensitivity.

“baby,” he mumbled.

“yeah?” you retorted.

“i came,” he told you.

you frowned, looking down at his pants and noticing the stain of cum seeping through the fabric.

“but…” you trailed off. “you weren’t even touching yourself.”

“i know,” he said. “i think i’m just…really sensitive when i’m sick. but guess what?”

“what?” you asked, already starting to pull his pants down to help clean up.

“i was right about your pussy being medicine,” he informed. “i feel completely better.”

you laugh, shaking your head in dismay.

“you’re such a weirdo.”

-

this is FILTH. what i wouldn’t give to sit on jake’s face man.

thanks for reading!

[kitkatscabinet]

Don't feed him he'll come back (2)

simon riley x neighbour! reader

summary: The ghost that lives in your apartment is a solitary man, people tend to stay out of his way, giving him a wide berth. You can't help but think he seems a little bit lonely, cue pestering him with bad jokes and food.

word count: 1.3k

A/N: Simon's POV of events. Find part 1 here. Part 3 here 18+ nsfw themes

Simon’s not entirely sure what to make of his pretty neighbour who fattens him up with their cooking and has a penchant for bad jokes that might outshine even him. From the moment he’d caught you staring with wide eyes he’d expected wariness, or outright fear, those were the typical responses. He hadn’t expected you to force a tray of pasta bake into his hands and then promptly disappear before he could get a word in. 

It’s a bit ridiculous, but the random act of kindness set his teeth on edge, enough that he’d even suspected foul play briefly. Hunger and logic eventually won out over his paranoia and Simon devoured the tray embarrassingly fast. He’s not quite sure how to face you so he simply leaves the tray outside your door and assumes that will be that. 

Except it’s not. For some reason you’ve taken it upon yourself to feed him, leaving an array of dishes from dinners to snacks. Apart from an initial note inquiring into allergies you adapt his diet on experience, taking note of what he does and doesn’t seem to enjoy. 

He doesn’t know how to get you to stop, nor does he really want you to. Not when he’s become entirely too reliant on you feeding him, eagerly awaiting each new dish with the excitement of a hyperactive toddler. 

Price says he’s got a crush, which is just absurd, the only thing he knows about you is your name. And that your left cheek has a dimple when you smile, and that you love your cat more than anything and that-

He doesn’t have a crush. 

Then the elevator breaks. It breaks with only you and him inside and instead of panicking like he expected, you only seemed mildly annoyed for a few seconds before you turned to him with a conspiratorial grin. “A bear walks into a bar and says give me a whiskey and… cola. Why the big pause? Asks the bartender. The bear shrugged. I’m not sure, I was born with them.”

Simon’s a little floored and it’s probably only his shock that prevents him from laughing because dammit, that was better than some of his. What shocks him even more is that you aren’t deterred from his silence. If anything, you seem to take it as a personal challenge and your eyes glint in determination. 

It’s both a mixture of the jokes and you’re adorable determination that finally pulls a chuckle from his lips and Simon will forever remember the way your face absolutely lit up at the noise. 

It’s not until he provides a joke of his own before ducking into the safety of his apartment that he briefly thinks Price may have been onto something. He staunchly pushes that thought away but then you start leaving jokes with the food and he has to admit he’s in a little bit of trouble. 

You wrangle his number from him (not that he resisted very hard) and then you wrangle him into your apartment and you make him watch as you flit around your kitchen in order to feed him. 

His next deployment comes at exactly the right time and Simon is prepared to spend the months away getting over you. Except this doesn’t happen because you send him a joke every day without fail, not even deterred when he rarely responds. 

You send a selfie of you and your cat and Simon stares far longer than is appropriate. He’s dreamt of you before, both innocently and not so. For some reason, the distance makes this worse and Simon wakes hard and aching for you more often than not. 

(Johnny walks in on him with his hand in his pants staring at a picture of you once and neither of them can look at each other for days. He thinks this is preferable to the shit-eating grins Johnny throws his way now.)

For the first time in his life, Simon’s desperate to get back from deployment to the empty apartment he barely considers his home. The empty white walls and space not seeming as depressing when he knows you’re waiting for him just across the hall. Waiting to fill the dark void in his chest that grows when he loses access to your smile. 

For the first time in his life, Simon doesn’t want to leave his apartment. Each time Price calls him away from your presence starts to weigh on his soul more and more. It’s getting harder and harder to stop being Simon, to put on the mask and be the Ghost when all he can think about is you. 

It all comes to a head nearly nine months after he'd initially met you. As much as he tries to ignore the way his heart sings in your presence and aches in your absence Simon can’t really deny how he feels about you anymore. 

You pull him from his dangerous train of thoughts when you plop down next to him on the couch. Not exactly a new move in of itself but even then he can’t help the way he shivers at the feel of your arm against his skin. 

If asked Simon wouldn’t be able to tell you a single plot point of the movie you’d put on, not when his mind was running a mile a minute and he was trying not to smell your hair like a creep. 

He tenses a little when you tip against him but doesn’t push you away. Instead, he can’t help but smile softly down at you as he watches you fall deeper and deeper into the clutches of sleep. Awe and adoration in his eyes as one of his hands lightly stroked your cheek, his other arm wrapping around you to pull you closer to his chest. 

You’d wormed your way into his heart months ago with all your stupid jokes and your insistence on looking after him. Not once had you ever asked for anything in return, you even seemed offended at the implication. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to let you in on his feelings, not when every time he left you could end up being his last. Simon had once accidentally caught you crying over your brother, a soldier like him, though not as lucky. Your brother was dead and buried and Simon saw the toll it took on you years later even when you tried to hide it. 

You were the sun. You were light and everything that was good in this world, saw the good in him, and Simon refused to be the potential reason that light was snuffed out. 

He wouldn’t do that to you. But Simon wasn’t completely selfless, so he held you in his arms as he slept, letting himself imagine a life where you could be together. A life where he got to come home to you and your stupid fat cat, his apartment no longer in use and he’d hold you just like this as you slept. 

This wasn’t that life, but Simon still let himself pretend it was, just for a little bit. Because Simon couldn’t deny it any longer, he loved you, was in love with you. And for that, he had to leave before he ruined you.

Tags: @cooliofango @innercollectivecomputer

[stevieschrodinger]

This is not how Steve wanted to spend his afternoon.

Actually, he’s found himself doing a lot of things he hasn't wanted to since Starcourt burned down but, honestly, this is probably right up there.

God it’s disgusting.

But he had to try. All the kids had looked at him with their stupid hang dog faces, so he said he’d try. Which is why he’s at lovers lake, freezing his ass off in the water and nipple deep into the shrubbery, ripping slimy crappy weeds and grass out of the muddy lake bed.

At least Robin got in with him. She’s shivering in her bathing suit, but she’s gamely holding onto the cooler as it floats in the water, so at least there’s that.

The bin full Upside Down vines next to the tank hadn't made much sense at the time, but it became apparent pretty fucking fast when the fish creature in Steve’s pool hadn’t eaten for forty eight hours, and Steve was now, finally, sober enough and not concussed enough to put two and two together.

Hopefully this works though; all the kids have, obviously, become immediately like, fucking pack bonded with the thing. Man. Fish Man.

El and Max keep insisting he’s a mermaid – Merman? Merdude? - like he’s something out of a fairy tail and is all magical and shit.

Steve takes a breath and ducks down again, having felt something hairy and frond like with his exploring toes.

“You think this is enough? Like as a fair test?” Robin rocks the half full cooler forward and Steve peeks in.

And alright, Steve just doesn’t want to fucking be here at all, so he says, “yep, looks good,” as they share a lightly guilty look.

It might not work at all, of course, so their wanting to give up is legitimate. They can always come back when it’s warmer if the fish man does eat this shit.

He certainly isn’t interested in the raw fish the kids have been trying to feed him – Steve’s going to be eating fish for a fucking month with what’s in his freezer now, and don’t those reprobates realize the price of fucking prawns??

The fish man wasn’t interested in meat either, not raw, not cooked – even though Dustin insisted that because of his ‘forward facing eyes’, ‘claws,’ and ‘slightly pointed teeth,’ he must be a predator Steve! The vines must have just been for, in his tank, or whatever, Steve!

Whatever.

Steve’s here to prove them wrong, and Robin’s backing him up.

The kids have gone home when they get back, which is a fucking relief. Even with the heaters in the car on full, Steve still feels cold in his bones. His skin warm and tingly, but the shivers still locked inside; him and Robin head for separate bathrooms without even really talking about it, fishboy has survived this long, he can do another twenty minutes.

Steve finds the biggest sting of kelpy weedy seaweedy stuff from the lake, and drags the tip of it in the pool. It’s dark out, the light from in the house reflecting on the surface of the pool, making it impossible to see where the creature might be hiding; until he disturbs the surface, a few seconds later.

Steve splashes the end in the water, “here fishy fishy fishy.”

“Steve,” Robin elbows him.

“What, it’s not like he has a name,” Steve doesn’t look at her though, he’s watching that strange pair of eyes come closer. They reflect the light strangely, like a wild animal in the headlights. His dark hair is plastered to the top of his head, being wet, and everything else is submerged.

Steve knows he can breathe fine for at least an hour out of the water though; that’s how long the rescue took. And then the bathtub; he was fine in there for a day while they drained the pool of chlorinated water and refilled it with fresh. And it was easy enough to get him in there; if he was human, Steve would say that fish dude was starving to death. Concave stomach, all his ribs clearly visible, pale flesh pulled too tight over the knobs of his spine. Steve had lifted him easily, the sad curl of his dull black tail hardly adding any weight to him. He felt frail, breakable; like a bird.

If there’s any lingering chemical in there, it doesn’t seemed to have hurt fishguy, but then a creature from the upside down must be tolerant to plenty, Steve thinks, imagining the constant fall of ashy dust from the dark sky.

The creature cautiously approaches, and when he’s near enough, there’s a gentle tug on the weed, like the most cautious of bites on a line. Steve lets go, and both fish guy and weed disappear under the water.

“Do you think it worked?” Robin whispers, like they’re viewing a skittish wild animal. Which, they kind of are.

“Don’t know,” Steve whispers back, unable to stop himself. There’s just something about someone whispering to you that’s irresistible; it’s like an unavoidable instinct to follow suit.

“How will we know if it’s worked?”

“Dunno. Try another? See if he takes it?” Steve’s just about to break open the cooler again when the head pops up. All of it, this time.

He has dark hair. So dark it looks black; thick and ropey, it kind of reminds Steve of the vines of the upside down. His face is...pretty much human; just very pale. When he’s got his mouth shut, hiding the slight point of those teeth, nothing would give him away.

He lifts a hand out of the water, offering something to Steve who, gingerly but reflexively, takes it.

It’s the stalk of the weed. The leaves are gone, and the fleshy green of the outside has been carefully stripped off; use for those pointy teeth. Steve guesses all the plant material of the upside down is actually probably quite sturdy and quite hard to eat. It probably also has the nutritional value of wet cardboard.

Steve offers another weed, and the fish dude doesn’t leave this time. Steve watches as he eats; quick, practiced movements, trimming leaves with his claws, rolling them, eating them, then just as Steve suspected, using his sharp teeth to strip the outer stalk of all it’s fleshy wet goodness.

Steve doesn’t shudder at the thought of the mud at the bottom of Lovers Lake.

“Steve one, Henderson zero,” Robin says quietly, the fish man tipping his head to the side, as if he’s listening. Steve’s seen it a lot, the amount that the kids chatter at him, but the fish guy tends to stay at the other end of the pool to them. Watching. Nervous, and frightened, if Steve had to put a label on it.

But then, wouldn’t anyone be? Stolen from your world by unrecognizable creatures in hazmat suits. Shoved in a tank. Probably experimented on.

The whole thing sounds shitty.

Steve offers another weed, and the fish guy repeats the process, floating closer still, “Robin, humor me, go and see what’s in the crisper drawer.”

She follows his logic immediately, “on it.”

Steve watches the creature, the fish man, and the fish man watches Robin warily, moving away from the edge again a little, but coming back when Steve offers another frond.

He takes it, strips it, hands it back.

“We need a name for you man, I can’t just keep calling you ‘fish dude’ and ‘creature’ in my head.”

Steve looks over at the house, figuring he has another minute before Robin comes back, he taps the middle of his chest, fishguys strangely gimlet eyes tracking to movement from his too thin face, “Steve.”

Nothing. He tries again, pointing to himself and tapping, “Steve,” and then pointing to the creature, trying to get him to understand.

Fish guy swims a little closer, raising a hand out of the water. Steve sees the stubby but pointy black claws, like little ovals on the end of his fingers. His webbed fingers, Steve sees next, webbing stretched between them up to the first knuckle. He hesitates for a moment, but Steve doesn’t move, wanting to see where this is going.

Fish guy points cautiously at the center of Steve’s chest, close but not touching, lifting far enough out of the water to reveal protruding collar bones. He opens his mouth, and Steve watches with baited breath, fish guy frowning like he’s concentrating, such a human emotion on his face.

Footsteps, then, and he drops back into the water, backing away into the middle of the pool, sinking down so only his eyes are visible. Steve remembers to breathe; he’s not imagining it, something was about to happen. But he can try again tomorrow, once Robin has gone.

“I got some lettuce and some frozen peas,” she whisper hisses at him as she sits again, handing them over.

“Gimme the lettuce,” that seems like the next nearest thing to Steve.

Part two

[kurooh]

⊹₊˚. it’s kento’s birthday, and you’re spending it in malaysia, by his side.

⟡ 18+ content (mdni), fem! reader, fluff + smut, creampie, beach sex, squirting, pussy eating, & he wants to marry you. everyone say happy birthday to nanami <3

“kento!” you scream, laughing as you run straight into the waves, the ocean water warm and inviting.

his loud laugh comes from behind you as he chases after you, practically sprinting to catch you in his arms. the sand shifts beneath your feet, shells glinting from beneath the small waves and then disappearing as the tide falls back.

kento’s happy to finally be in malaysia, the place he’d dreamed of going to since he was a little kid. what’s even better is the fact that this is his 34th birthday, and you’re spending it here, with him. the beach is beautiful, with its golden sand and clear, enticing water. it makes the perfect spot to propose to you, he thinks.

you squeal when he catches you in his arms, the both of you laughing right before the wet sand becomes unsteady beneath his feet and you both tumble to the ground in a heap. a small wave crashes over the two of you, and you both grow quiet upon realizing the position you’re in — you’re straddling his waist, small hands pressed into his big chest, you in a bikini and him in some trunks.

“ken,” you murmur, and kento’s already tugging you forward by your shoulder, kissing you deeply as he holds you close.

one of your hands slips behind his head, fingers pushing into his wet hair and pulling ever so slightly as his tongue presses between your lips. teeth begin to clash against teeth as you both become a little rougher, more eager — then he’s flipping you over, positioning himself on top of you.

“ken, i don’t wanna do it in the water..”

“mmm, i didn’t either.” kento pulls you up, appreciating how pretty and pliant you are for him as he positions you on your hands and knees. “is this comfortable, angel?”

you nod, tossing him a hooded eyed look over your shoulder as he slides off his navy blue trunks, tossing them onto the dry sand so they don’t get washed away. after all, he irresponsibly tucked a little box with a ring in the pocket, hoping to propose while playing in the waves. you reach back and yank your bikini bottoms to the side, wiggling in anticipation.

kento grips the base of his large cock, gently rubbing his tip between your sticky folds before spitting on his cock and slicking it up.

“are you ready?” he confirms, one hand on your hip, squeezing at the plush skin.

“of course i am, kento.”

and with that he’s pushing inside you, cock stretching your pussy out and filling it up at the same time. a broken moan leaves your lips as water splashes against your hands and forearms.

“you’re always too tight,” kento grunts, though he’s absolutely not complaining. “shit, i’ve been dreaming of this..”

he draws his hips back before plunging inside you fully, groaning as his fingers fumble with the bow tied knot of your bikini top. the bikini slithers off your chest, but he catches it before it falls into the water and tosses it towards his trunks.

“bein’ in malaysia, or fucking me on the beach?” you suggest breathlessly, whining loudly when he leans forward, sweeping a hand across your stomach before he reaches your chest.

“being in malaysia with you, and then fucking you on the beach,” kento clarifies, snapping his hips forward sloppily as he grabs and squeezes your tits hard. both of your nipples are pinched between his large fingers, sending a sting of pain and a shock of pleasure straight to your clit.

the heat all over your body only grows as he fucks you, building and twisting right in your pussy more and more with the way his cock head’s hitting all the right spots.

“oh, kento!” you exclaim after one particularly hard thrust that has your knees weakening and sliding in the sand, “you feel so good, i-i need it faster, please!”

“anything for you,” kento’s head falls back and his eyes close as he fucks into you as fast as he can. he releases your tits, letting them bounce and slap together as he opts to grip your hips for support.

“fuck, nghhh— god, i can’t get enough of you,” he feels his cock thicken and throb inside of you and knows he’s not too far from filling up your pussy, so he removes a hand from your hip and nestles his hand between your thighs. then his fingers find your clit and he starts to rub at the swollen bud, using your wetness for some lubrication.

a small wave crashes into your arms again, splashing onto your tits and making them grow sticky with sea water. your back arches, and you turn your head, looking over your shoulder to admire him. his hair is wet and sticking to all sides of his face, chest gleaming with some droplets of seawater, and his face is twisted in pleasure as he fucks you and furiously rubs your clit.

“k-ken, you’re gonna make me—” just as he pinches your clit the way you like it, his cock tightens inside you and he falls forward, chest pressing into your back while he wraps an arm around you tight.

“ken, ‘m cumming— cumming, feels so good, ah!” your pussy clenches down on his cock tightly, attempting to milk every last drop of cum from him all while you squirt hard onto his cock and pelvis.

kento pushes deep, pouring hot cum inside you as he groans, snatching one of your tits into his hands and squeezing hard. “mmmh.. god, i’ll never not cum fast when i’m fucking you.”

whimpering, you jiggle your asscheeks against him, and he slowly leans back with a smile. “i love you, angel.. i’m so thankful you planned this whole trip for my birthday.”

“happy birthday, ken,” you say dazedly, biting down on your bottom lip as he gently pulls his cock from you, and the hateful emptiness settles into your hole.

as you attempt to stand up on jelly legs, a large hand presses firmly into the small of your back. behind you, kento settles on his knees, lifting you close to him by your thighs as though you’re a doll.

“k-ken, what’re you doing?” you stutter, pussy clenching the second you feel his hot breath fan onto your sticky clit.

“cleaning up this mess,” he murmurs, affectionately using his fingers to collect the mixture of his cum and your squirt dripping in a long strand from between your folds. “i’m absolutely not letting this go to waste, god. not when you taste as good as you do, shit.”

he languidly drags his silky, rough tongue up and down your hole and clit, corners of his lips curling into some kind of smile when you whine in need. “d-don’t tease me like that, god..”

kento ignores you, licking the wetness from your clit and then sucking the remnants of your squirt from your inner thighs and surrounding areas of your pussy. as you clench down on nothing, desperate for his tongue, most of his cum starts to flow out of you thick white globs, collecting at your clit in droplets and threatening to fall to the sand below.

just as you’re about to get upset at the lack of proper stimulation, kento wraps his lips around your cum covered clit and sucks hard.

“kento! your t-tongue’s so fucking good, i need more, please!” your fingers squeeze into the sand, mouth falling open in pure bliss. loud, panting moans leave your lips thoughtlessly as he pulls your pussy closer to his mouth, licking everything up.

“princess, it’s my birthday.” kento reminds you as he pauses to catch his breath, “and i think i want this to be my celebratory cake.”

[starmapz]

(TONGUE) TIED

𓉸 husband!ryomen sukuna x f!reader [non-curse au]

𓉸 kinktober smut oneshot

❝ you can't possibly get home fast enough in the eyes of your husband who's been undressing you with his eyes all night. to his delight, he finds that you're just as eager as he is and feeling a little freaky, which means sukuna gets to pull out your collection of toys and ropes. ❞

𓉸 warnings ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. this is kinda freaky idk what was up with me. explicit smut. rough sex. safe word established but unneeded. unprotected. manhandling. nipple play (f! receiving). neck kissing. marking. biting. toys (rabbit vibrator, nipple clamps). bondage. overstimulation. fingering. oral (f! receiving). dacryphilia. use of pet names (girl, woman, minx, princess, brat, baby). praise. choking. stomach bulge. cervix mention. light impact play. degradation (slut). creampie. cumplay. fluffy aftercare. kinda soft!sukuna?

𓉸 words ; 7.5k.

main masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist || love & company masterlist

Your husband has been mentally undressing you from across the table all night, his attention drawn to you as though you have your own personal gravity meant for him only. There’s barely a second throughout the entirety of dinner where his eyes aren’t filled with an unspoken fire directed at you.

It’s not like it’s unusual to catch a glimpse of Sukuna eyeing you up, but his lack of attention towards the rest of your friends at the table hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You wonder if he caught a glimpse of the crimson panties adorned in black lace with garter straps that held up your stockings and a matching crimson and lace bra before you left to meet your friends. It was intended to be a surprise for your husband for later but given that you couldn’t often find him much further than a room away from you at most, you wouldn’t be shocked if he’d noticed.

“Can ya stop undressin’ your wife at the table and listen, dumbass?” Toji’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, a brow raised as at last he manages to get Sukuna’s attention. “I was askin’ if you can watch Megs and Miki next weekend for a day so I can take my wife out on a date.”

“Hm? Ask Uraume,” Sukuna grumbles, an air of irritation around his words. The two of you are free next weekend and Uraume already stated they weren’t able to, which Sukuna would know if he’d bothered to listen.

Toji sighs but before he can explain to Sukuna what he’s missed, your heel jabs into your husband’s shin and his knee collides with the bottom of the table. The commotion silences the entire table, pulling Uraume and Shiu’s attention to the glare you’re getting from your husband. In spite of his grit teeth and clear irritation, there’s no malice behind his glare. There never is when it comes to you.

“Christ, fine, yeah, whatever,” he crosses his arms over his chest with a huff, snarling in disapproval at Toji’s teasing chuckle.

“Tell your wife thanks,” Toji launches a shit-eating grin at the tattooed man, who only sneers in return, rolling his eyes.

“Tell her yourself,” he grumbles, sulking in a way that only your stubborn husband would.

Still, his eyes are back on you and the commotion is forgotten in almost an instant when he hears your candied laugh at something Shiu’s said.

It’s not like you weren’t already planning on surprising him with new lingerie once you got home, but you could already tell you were in for a ride tonight.

And you couldn’t possibly be more right about that as he shoves you forcefully up against the door the moment you’re back at your apartment. His grip on your hips is bruising as his lips capture yours roughly.

“Fuckin’ teasing me all night, woman,” he grumbles against your lips, sliding a hand down your thigh until his fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress. Hungry, his hands explore and squeeze the plush skin of your thigh until his fingers come into contact with the garter straps keeping your stockings in place.

He pulls back from your kiss-swollen lips to grin at you with lidded eyes. “R’ these for me, princess?”

“Always, Ryo.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, dipping his head down into the crook of your neck. He hungrily nips and bites at your skin, fingers mindlessly fiddling with the straps before sliding up to where they connect with your panties.

A guttural groan leaves his lips as he the tips of his fingers brush along the decorative lace of the panties you’re wearing for him. He pulls back from your lips, pupils blown impossibly big with unadulterated lust.

“Shit, what’d I do to deserve this?” He grins with lidded eyes.

“I’m asking myself that too given how much of a menace you were at dinner,” you mumble, thumbs brushing the base of his jaw that’s slack in a playful sneer.

“Oh whatever. Actin’ like you don’t like gettin’ ogled by me,” he rolls his eyes in exasperation, squeezing your hip with the hand that’s still firmly holding you against the door. His other hand moves suddenly to brush your core, a deep chuckle leaving your husband when you gasp. “Go ahead n’ act like ya haven’t been wet all night, ya ain’t foolin’ me.”

You pout up at him, lip jutting out playfully.

But that’s just the thing about your husband. He may have more bravado than any one person could need, but it wasn’t an act. He’s right. He’s always right when it comes to you. He knows you like the back of his hand, just like he knows what it means when you dress up for him.

“Feelin’ a lil’ freaky tonight, princess?”

Your cheeks flush red at his implication, but you nod.

“You’ll use the safe word if it’s too much?” He confirms.

You nod again. “I promise, Kuna.”

The smug grin Sukuna flashes you is only in your vision for a moment before he’s throwing you over his shoulder with ease. You’ve long grown used to him manhandling you, but it doesn’t make it any less jarring when your ass is suddenly in the air and you’re clutching to the muscle shirt that hangs over his broad shoulders.

You let out a yelp as he tosses you on the mattress of your shared bed, his expression fiery with hunger. That look alone has you clenching your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed as your husband’s tongue swipes his lower lip.

He’s on top of you in an instant, lips grazing the skin of your chest from the deep V neckline of your dress. It’s gorgeous on you, it suits you like it was designed just for you to be admired by him, but Sukuna’s lust is so overbearing he wants to tear through the neckline and have you exposed before him.

Your palms splay on his shoulders and press against the muscles to push him away, a sign that has him staring at you in confusion with one hand gripping at the fabric of your dress.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you warn. “Don’t you dare. This is new.”

He scoffs in disbelief, practically whining for you.

“You’re so impatient, Kuna,” you scold. “I’m gonna run out of clothes at the rate you rip them.”

His lip curls in frustration. “So?”

You raise a brow insistently. “I need clothes?”

“Nah, you don’t,” he grins, lowering his face back to yours to press a kiss to your lips. You tilt your head in an effort to give him better access, your hands sliding over his shoulders and around his neck as Sukuna dominantly takes control of the situation again and-

RIP.

You pull your head back. “Are you incapable of listening?” You scold him, brow furrowed.

He’s shooting you a shit-eating grin. You’ve dealt with his bullshit so long that you already know the answer is yes when it comes to things like this of little consequence. He’s got a good grasp on when the best moments are to push your buttons and much to your dismay this was one of them. Contrary to what most people would likely assume, Sukuna is a good husband, a great one even.

Words don’t come easily to him, he’s only talkative during sex and he’s frequently grumpy over inconsequential matters. He’s imposing and aloof around those he doesn’t know and seems to make a game out of scaring your co-workers the first time he meets them. He doesn’t know how to tell you that he loves you through words. It’s simply not in his vocabulary.

That’s the thing about Sukuna, he finds other ways to express his love. Ways that fill you with warmth and assure you that yes, he does love you, more than words could ever say.

Sukuna’s surprisingly attentive. Even when he seems as though he isn’t paying any mind, even when he acts as though he’s bored, he’s listening. His grumbly and standoffish attitude is little more than an act around you. He pays attention to the little things and takes care of chores when he sees that you’re too exhausted to do so. He sneaks back to stores where you mention liking something so that he can buy it for the next birthday or anniversary.

He knows your favorite flowers, he knows the kind of jewelry you like best. He knows that although you can hold your own on a motorbike, you love to be his little backpack. He knows you love to watch horror movies just to jump into his arms and have an excuse to cuddle, even though you don’t need one.

He knows the exact spots that you like to be kissed, the places that send a shiver up your spine and make your back arch and toes curl. He knows you love the way his tongue piercing feels cool in contrast to the warmth of his tongue against your clit.

He knows that when you make a point of dressing up for him like tonight, it’s with the intent of letting Sukuna have his way with you for the remainder of the night.

It’s for that exact reason that he ignores your remark about him not listening and leans down to nip at the sensitive skin of your neck, eliciting a pleasurable gasp. You grip at his shoulders for purchase, squirming beneath him as he tugs at the dress, ripping it further until he’s opened it from the front.

He feels your chest raise as you take a breath to scold him, moving fervently to capture your lips in a hungry kiss, and to shut you up. He grins against your lips, positioning himself between your thighs before he pulls back to admire you.

And god, does he ever love what he sees. The deep red and black lace of your panties and bra sets his skin alight with want, eyes trailing from the way your breasts are pushed together so deliciously down to where the garter straps attached to your panties meet the thin layer of sheer stockings that cover your legs. Everything about the lingerie, everything about you is so incredibly sexy, and he plans on making that known.

That is, after he rips everything off of you just like he did your dress.

Really, can you expect anything less from him at this point?

“Shit, y’ look gorgeous,” he breathes against the skin of your breast, holding himself above you with a strong forearm. His other hand moves to find the clasp at the back of your bra, easily releasing it and humming with delight as your breasts bounce when they’re freed.

The moment the cool air hits your nipples, Sukuna’s warm tongue licks a long, languid stripe up the left one, the contrast of his tongue piercing always sending your mind into a frenzy as you let out a moan, clutching at his shoulders.

You’re so tiny beneath him, a given when your husband is a nearly seven foot tall man with abs of steel, but it doesn’t make it any less daunting all these years later when you feel the massive tent in his pants brush your legs.

Sukuna knows better than to tear you apart without warming you up for him, though. He’ll have you cumming three times over before he dares to sheath his massive cock in your tight cunt.

Tonight is no exception. He sucks on your nipple, the sensation sending shivers down your spine as his tongue circles the sensitive bud. You can hear him fiddling with something on the bedside with the hand that’s not holding him up, but it’s a distant sound when his tongue piercing is bringing you so much pleasure.

His lips separate from the swollen skin of your breast with a pop, a satisfied smirk on his kiss-swollen lips as he pulls one of your wrists from his shoulder, pinning it above you.

“Gonna be a good lil’ wife f’r me tonight?” He growls darkly, waiting for your consent.

You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.

Sukuna’s eyes flicker to the movement of your lips, jaw ajar as his chest rises and falls with a lust-filled hum. “Words.” It’s a command, not a question.

“Yes, Ryo,” you breathe. His tongue swipes his lower lip hungrily as he leans forward and begins to tie a very expensive soft red rope around your wrist. His movements are practiced, the action something Sukuna took extra time to research and learn to make sure you would be comfortable, even as he ties you to the headboard. Your second wrist is tied expertly as well and Sukuna pauses to press a gentle, loving kiss to your nose.

Momentarily, Sukuna’s eyes fill with adoration, but as he grabs the next rope and moves down the bed to tie your ankles to the end of the bed, that look in his eyes changes to one of dominant lust. He stands back, a predator admiring its prey, caught and splayed out beneath him. The red matches your panties in a way that sends his brain spiraling when you tug against the rope and your breasts jiggle with the effort.

“You tryin’ the run, woman?” He teases, his voice dangerously low and raspy. He knows this is as much of a game to you as it is to him when you whine in protest, eyes filled with desperation. “Needy lil’ thing.”

You pant, wriggling against the restraints as the wet patch of your panties grows increasingly uncomfortable and your need for friction increases. Your husband slips his shirt over his head, your eyes trailing the length of his built form, the way his tattoos seem to accentuate the ridges and valleys of his pecs and abs. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, he’s a work of art.

He drops his jeans to the floor, leaving only a pair of black boxers on over his aching cock. The confines of his boxers are equally as uncomfortable as he’s certain your panties slick with arousal are, but he needs to take care of preparing you to take his length before he can deal with that.

Crawling back over your body, he pinches your nipple in time with biting your lower lip, your broken whimper swallowed by his lips. The rough pads of his fingers are harsh against the swollen bud as his tongue presses into your mouth, dancing with yours dominantly.

“Gonna make you feel so good tonight, m’kay?” He pulls back to wait for your needy little nod before dipping down to lick a languid and teasing stripe straight up the wet patch of your lace panties. Your pussy tingles with anticipation as you tug hard against the expertly tied ropes binding your wrists to the corners of the bed.

With desire-filled eyes, Sukuna shoots you a devious glance as he hooks his fingers beneath the fabric of your brand new panties. Your eyes widen as you catch his train of thought. “No no no, not again Kuna, don’t you-”

RIP.

With a coy grin decorating his lips, he tosses the torn remnants of your panties aside, sliding the garter straps and stockings down your legs. You begin to let out a sigh at his actions, choking on it when the flat of his tongue meets your folds as he licks another long stripe up your needy cunt, dripping with desire. The contrast of his warm tongue and the cool metal of his piercing never fails to send a shiver up your spine.

Gasping at the sudden contact, you buck your hips towards him. Sukuna responds in turn by plunging his tongue into your entrance, large hands moving to hold you in place and keep you  from your desperate wriggles. You can no longer greedily move your hips against him for friction, you’re completely at his mercy and he won’t take that opportunity for granted.

The harsh contrast of his metallic piercing against your gummy walls is something that in all these years you never did get used to, every prod of the metal sending pleasure straight to your core.

Sukuna knows this, he knows you like the back of his hand and he knows just how to drive you to your first orgasm of the night as he pulls back slightly, flicking the metal of his piercing over your clit.

He moves his tongue expertly over your clit before sucking harshly on the bundle of nerves. Pressure builds quickly in your lower stomach and you clench your fists, pulling hard against your bindings as you struggle to find purchase for your hands with nothing to grip, unable to move your legs beneath Sukuna’s insistent and bruising grip on your thighs.

With one final harsh suck and a flick of his piercing over your clit, you cry out “-Kuna!” and come undone as your orgasm washes over you in waves. Your body jolts with each languid lick of Sukuna’s tongue over your clit as he draws out your orgasm, pussydrunk lidded eyes watching your blissed out expression.

Your body goes limp and Sukuna pulls back, moving back over the bed to sloppily kiss you, your arousal coating his lips and chin as the taste of you lingers. He’s surprisingly gentle as he purrs in your ear.

“Good girl.”

Eagerly, the burly man positions himself back between your legs, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his neck to the side, a display that has you watching the way his muscles tense and relax with each movement, veins popping in his upper arms.

One look at the man between your legs always has you questioning how you got so lucky. The ridges and valleys of his abs decorated in tattoos are a sight to behold that would make anyone jealous, you might even call it a common occurrence. The real treat with Sukuna though is the way he absolutely worships the ground you walk on.

He’s cold and a downright pain in the ass to everyone else, but since the day you met him, he’s always been soft for you. That’s not to say he can’t be a pain in the ass, after all you’re now down a dress and a pair of panties, and he has a bad habit of starting arguments over things that don’t matter among other small grievances that come between you, but he’ll never let you go to sleep upset with him.

There’s no sleeping on the couch, no ignoring one another for extended periods of time. Sukuna knows he can be a dick and he knows he’s a lot to handle, but you’re his girl and he wouldn’t dare lose what he has with you.

You’re his world, and he’ll do anything for you, even if he has a funny way of showing it. Sometimes, it’s by tying you to a bedpost and fucking you until you cry.

His eyes survey your body, tongue swiping along his lower lip as he admires the swell of your breasts, your curves, landing finally on your arousal dripping from your pulsing cunt.

“Shit, y’ look like such a pretty little slut for me,” he groans, palming his painfully hard cock. What Sukuna wouldn’t give to bend you over and fuck you right now, his restraint running thin. The only thing keeping him from doing so is the thrill of having you tied beneath him and wanting to take things slow. That, and the size difference between you that begs that he prepares you to take him.

Your chest still rises and falls heavily from the aftermath of your last orgasm, but Sukuna is too eager to wait for any semblance of overstimulation to pass as he slides the tips of his fingers featherlight over your puffy lips, passing over your clit.

A light moan drags from your lips at the sensation. You lift your head to watch where Sukuna’s digits part your folds. His eyes are blackened with lust as he twists his left hand to sink his middle and ring finger into your slick entrance.

Nothing turns your husband on more than watching your arousal coat his fingers, in particular on his left hand where his wedding ring is tattooed on in the same style as the rest of his tattoos. Watching the way you drip down his finger and over the tattoo is the sole reason he got particularly good at fingering you with his left hand.

As your body eagerly swallows his fingers, he tenses his jaw as need tightens in his lower stomach. He can feel his resolve pulling taut just as his boxers are with each desperate pulse of his hardened cock.

“Kuna, ‘m sensitive, go easy on- mmph!” Your words are cut off in a gasp as you writhe in his grasp, pulling both wrists and ankles hard against your restraints when he sinks his fingers in to their hilts until the tattooed ring is buried within your pussy. You drip down his wrist as he curls his fingers expertly, wasting no time in prodding at the plush of your sensitive spot.

“Atta girl, show me how needy y’ are for me,” he purrs, eyes locked with his fingers.

“F-fuck- Ryo-” You babble words out as he speeds up his ministrations, pulling you quickly back to the edge of an orgasm.

“Y’ gonna cum on my fingers?” He grins, taking his free hand to press down gently on your lower abdomen. The tension in your stomach coils and tightens with the movement and you buck your hips, eyes shut tight as overstimulation and pleasure mix in such a beautiful union that you think you’re seeing stars behind your tightly shut eyelids.

“Y-Yes, Kuna,” you barely managed between moans and pants to answer his question as he curls his digits faster, brushing your g-spot rougher with each curl.

“No runnin’ from me, baby,” his voice is low as he presses down harder on your abdomen to stop the way you’re shuffling away from him. Tears form in the corners of your eyes from the sheer amount of stimulation that’s heightening every one of your senses and with one last curl, you pull your knees inward hard as your second orgasm of the night hits you like a ton of bricks.

The tug of your legs against the bedposts make a loud creaking noise, but the ropes don’t relent, keeping your knees apart a fair distance still. Sukuna slows his movements as he drags each wave of your orgasm out. Your moans and whimpers are like a song meant for his ears only, one that he directs with his fingers just as a conductor might direct a choir.

“Thaaaat’s it, doin’ such a good job for me, princess,” Sukuna praises as he watches your chest heave, your head thrown back as you jerk with each wave of your orgasm. Slowly, he pulls his fingers from your pulsing walls, the movement dragging a pretty moan from your lips. Your body trembles, muscles twitching with each convulsion as you come down from your climax.

“Look at me,” your husband instructs commandingly, leaning over you. You obey, heavily lidded eyes finding his handsome face. “Open.”

When you part your lips, Sukuna brings his fingers to them, sinking his digits into your mouth. You make eye contact as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, drinking in your own juices. Sukuna can’t help the groan that leaves from deep within his throat at the sight of his wedding ring disappearing within your lips as you obediently lap up and clean his fingers.

In truth, he could watch this for hours if he weren’t throbbing in the confines of his boxers still.

“Such a good lil’ slut,” he moans, pulling his fingers back as he leans over you to kiss and suck on the skin at the top of your breast. Leaving a trail of hickeys at the edge of your breast, he soothingly laps at the bruising skin, following suit up to the crook of your neck as he decorates you in bites, painting you with purple markings that glisten with his saliva in the soft evening light coming through the window.

Your brain is foggy in the wake of your second orgasm and you watch as Sukuna suddenly hops to his feet before languidly making his way over to the bedside table.

“Y’ think you can handle me yet?” He asks, tilting his head in a cocky manner. You nod your head eagerly, but your husband clicks his tongue. “Silly woman,” he huffs, leaning down to a drawer filled with-

Oh fuck.

You squirm against your bindings, whining at the realization that Sukuna has his heart set on pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you tonight before he cums even once.

“You whining as though ya didn’t ask for this?” He chuckles, standing at his full height again with a cute pink rabbit vibe in one hand and a pair of nipple clamps in the other.

“Kuna, just wait a bit,” you beg, tugging on your restraints again. “‘M sensitive.”

“Sensitive?”

You nod.

“Was it not you beggin’ me the other day to fuck you through your oversensitivity, y’ lil’ brat?” He scoffs, tilting his head with his lips slightly parted. He sneers slightly as his eyes roll. “Oversensitive,” he taunts.

With that, there’s no escaping your husband as he crawls from the end of the bed towards you, splaying your legs further apart with his forearms as he sets the vibrator to the side. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as you watch his movements.

Holding himself over you, he places several soft pecks on your left nipple, causing it to grow perky. Sukuna presses the flat of his tongue to the sensitive skin, flicking it with his piercing as it catches the bud. Your head is thrown back in a moan, fist balling as you tug at the rope.

The tattooed man catches you off guard as your eyes blearily rest on the ceiling while he clamps the first side to your left breast. You gasp, followed shortly by a whimper.

“Look so fuckin’ hot with this shit on,” he groans, following his movements on your right breast. With a flick of his tongue over your perky nipple, you moan again and he takes the opportunity to place the next clamp over the hardened bud.

Your back arches off the mattress as you cry out. With the chain in one hand, he leans back to admire you, tugging on them and smirking when you whimper. The sensation makes your head spin as your pussy pulses and drools for your husband.

“Shit.”

He’s aching in the confines of his boxers, cock throbbing and tip leaky, but he won’t waste this opportunity to have you tied and at his grace. It may be his absolute favorite thing to have you bound on the bed for him, but this is all about you. He wants the bed soaked below you before he even has the chance to get his dick wet.

He picks up the rabbit vibrator, your favorite out of the drawer of toys and one of his favorites to use on you and teases your entrance with it. The toy is cool, the cold silicone sending a pleasurable shiver up your spine.

With a tug on the chain of the nipple clamps, Sukuna sinks the tip of the dildo portion of the vibrator into your leaky cunt, your arousal from your previous two orgasms enough lube to allow the toy to slide easily into your entrance. He watches your lips part, back arching as he hits the first ring of resistance.

“It’s too much-” you squeak, just as Sukuna pushes the toy in deeper. You moan his name, pulling hard on your restraint as you attempt to reach out to him and stop his movement. He does pause to allow you a chance to adjust, though he knows you’re babbling about it being too much purely from overstimulation as tears prick in your eyes.

Dropping the clamp chain over your stomach, he reaches out to wipe your tears. “Doin’ so good,” he hums. You whimper as he sinks the toy in further. His muscular forearm flexes as he presses the toy heavily to your g spot.

“Ryo- Please,” you writhe against the rope as pleasure coils in your stomach once more. With the dildo fully sunk into your gummy walls, the rabbit vibe now sits comfortably against your clit, prodding at it as Sukuna twists his wrist lightly, the pressure of both sides of the toy sending you into a state of pure bliss.

The bliss is short-lived as Sukuna turns the vibrator to the lowest setting and your body jerks and jolts from the stimulation.

“Too much-! Toomuchtoomuch-” You cry out between gasps as you attempt to run from the toy. Sukuna’s large hand grips your waist tightly as he holds you in place. Not like you were meant to get far anyway with how well he’s tied you down.

“Shut up n’ take it, princess. You’re the one who asked for this when ya let me tie you up,” Sukuna growls, a familiar lust-filled darkness clouding his eyes as he kisses your inner thigh.

You shake your head wildly, but the overstimulation gives way quickly when he turns the vibration setting up a notch. You shut your eyes tightly with a moan as you arch into the toy.

“That’s it, baby. Gimme another orgasm, yeah?”

You swallow hard as you pull yourself up the bed barely an inch with a hard tug against the rope. Sukuna hums at the sight of your foggy eyes when they open once more, your head rising to watch where the toy meets your clit, the dildo swallowed by your needy cunt.

With the vibrating portion prodding your clit, Sukuna keeps it steady while twisting the rest of the dildo to brush your g spot with quick and rough thrusts. You can feel a third climax fast approaching as you arch against the toy, pressing into the vibrator.

With a click of a button, the vibrator goes up one more setting and you’re crying out suddenly as it pushes you over the edge.

As your walls clamp and pulse around the toy, your juices flowing out around the pink silicone, your moans become screams as overstimulation rocks you. The vibration is absolutely too much and yet you can’t get enough of it, squirming and wriggling in an attempt to escape the relentless friction.

Only when your cunt stops gushing out around the toy does Sukuna turn it off, leaving the dildo buried to the hilt within you as your chest heaves. With a sloppy squelch, the toy is pulled from within you and set aside. You shudder as you’re given a moment’s respite from the stimulation, your head falling back as you catch your breath.

“Whattaya think, pretty? You ready to take me yet?” Sukuna teases, waiting for you to meet his eyes. Your head swings up as you nod your head.

“Please baby,” you beg in such a saccharine sweet voice that Sukuna can’t help but indulge you. Well, that and the tension in his cock is growing physically painful, twitching against the confines of his boxers. It stands alert, slapping against his abdomen as it’s freed from the fabric.

“Since y’ beg so nice for me,” he purrs, sliding out of his boxers with his slutty upper thigh tattoos now fully on display. He positions himself over you, sliding his length through your folds repetitively and covering it in your slick as he leans down to capture your lips in a rough kiss. Holding himself up on one forearm, he wraps his free hand delicately around your throat as his thumb strokes the side of your neck.

You whimper at the friction provided by his cock, desperate to have him inside you, all the while the overstimulation clouds your brain and you can hardly make sense of any thoughts. All you know is lust and need. You pull against your restraints in an attempt to wrap your legs around Sukuna’s waist and pull him down, but it’s no use.

Your husband chuckles at your pathetic whimpers and whines that get swallowed by his hungry tongue shoved down your throat. “Poor thing,” he coos, pulling back to kiss a line up your jaw. “Such a needy lil slut for me.”

Sitting back on his heels, he reels his hips back and ruts his cock against your clit once before he positions himself at your entrance. Your body jerks as cum leaks from your cunt. Sukuna keeps his gaze fixed on your expression as he tugs once on the chain of the nipple clamps, pulling a whimper from your pretty, kiss-swollen lips. As your lips part, he drops the chain between them, biting his lip as the petite chain decorates your mouth so prettily.

His cock throbs again and he can’t wait a moment longer as he pushes the angry red tip of his cock into your pussy. Your head falls back into the plush pillows as he stretches you and pain and pleasure mix with overstimulation. It’s such an overwhelming sensation that your abdomen coils and pressure builds immediately.

At nearly seven feet tall, it’s no surprise that Sukuna is big, but being both long and thick is always a shock on your system, even after years of being with him. The size difference is immense and even three orgasms deep, your walls are tight around him as he pushes past the first ring of resistance.

Sukuna reaches forward with a groan, large hand wrapping around your throat once again. “Doin’ so good, my little minx,” he hisses as he continues to feed you inch after inch of his cock. His thumb gently rubs soothing circles into the skin of your neck until he bottoms out. He remains still, giving you a moment to adjust and uses the opportunity to lean down and press an uncharacteristically sweet kiss to your lips.

“Still good, princess?” He asks in a tender tone you don’t hear all that often from your gruff husband. He knows he can get carried away when you let him bind you to the bedposts and with the size difference between you, he wants your full consent before he considers moving.

You nod, bedposts creaking as you attempt to move your hand to cradle his face, unable against the restraints.

“Words, princess.”

“I’m good, Kuna,” you assure him in a muffled voice as you speak around the chain residing between your lips.

“Good girl,” he purrs, pushing himself up to watch where your bodies connect as he begins to rock his hips backwards in a slow pace, watching his cock sink back into you. He positions himself to brush your g spot with each languid thrust and as you moan and throw your head back once more, Sukuna’s fingers begin to put pressure on your throat. He restricts your oxygen with expertly placed fingers, your jaw going slack at the sensation.

Your mind goes blank, overtaken by a foggy high as all you can feel is Sukuna’s pace beginning to increase, each thrust sending pleasure through your body like a bolt of lightning. The ropes tied to you are pulled taut at each limb as you attempt to reach out and cling to your husband for purchase.

“Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight,” Sukuna groans hoarsely, relenting on your throat and letting oxygen back into your lungs as he slides his hand down between the valley of your breasts to feel your stomach. He places light pressure on your lower abdomen, the feeling of the bulge of his cock beneath his hand setting his entire body on fire.

Like you’ve set him off, he leans back and unties your ankles suddenly. Now unbound, you attempt to move your legs to straddle his waist and pull him deeper, but Sukuna has other plans.

You whine when he pulls out suddenly, loosening your arm bindings by about a foot on each side so that he can flip you onto your forearms and knees. Your forearms are nearly positioned in an ‘x’ below you thanks to the cross-sections of the ropes still tied to the headboard. The chain of the nipple clamp falls from your mouth as the clamps themselves brush against the blankets beneath you. The friction sends shivers through your body.

With your ass exposed to him, your husband lets out a guttural groan, nearly an animalistic growl as he kisses the plush flesh of your left cheek before biting down. You yelp in surprise, jumping as you attempt to get a glance of the hungry look in his eyes. Crimson eyes stare back at you as he licks the spot soothingly seconds later.

He presses a peck to your opposite ass cheek as well, nipping the flesh more gently than the previous one as he leaves his mark on your skin alongside the purple decorating your neck and collar.

Leaning back, he stands tall on his knees behind you and pushes back into your sopping pussy in one swift movement. You cry out in pleasure for him, fingers finally able to grip at the sheets for purchase and ground you as you become starry-eyed in pleasure again.

With a harsh slap to your ass, his hand slides down the small of your back and up your spine until he reaches your hair. Leaning over you, he presses you into the mattress, muffling your moans and screams with the blankets beneath. He keeps up his meteoric pace, every thrust causing your abdomen to twist and coil until you’re teetering over the edge, threatening to come undone beneath him.

“Ryo, I’m gonna- fuck-!” A muffled cry leaves your mouth between babbles as your legs quake in an effort to keep you upright. Your whole body jerks and shakes beneath Sukuna, your walls milking him for all that he’s worth. You’re so tight, gummy walls sucking and squeezing him so much that his movements grow sloppy, a sure sign he’s about to cum too.

“Ah shit, feels so good when you cum around me,” he groans, staring down at the ring of white arousal that coats the base of his cock. He wraps his free arm around your middle to keep you upright and held flush to him as your legs give out on you as he thrusts harder, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. The sounds of skin on skin slapping in the room is so lewd and hot that it makes Sukuna’s head spin.

In a few more thrusts, Sukuna’s climax finally hits after a night of denying himself any amount of pleasure all for having you tied beneath him. The amount of cum that paints your walls is immense as his warm arousal fills you up and spills out around his thick member. His abs tense with each wave of his orgasm as he continues to thrust until your walls have milked every last ounce of cum from him.

He leans over you as he stills, holding himself up over your bare body as both of your chests heave in an effort to catch your breath. Both of you jerk and jolt on occasion as the aftershocks of your orgasms pulse through you.

With a kiss to the small of your back, Sukuna leans back on his knees, staring down at his throbbing length as he pulls out of you. He hisses through his teeth as your walls attempt to suck him back in.

“Shit,” he mumbles as he watches his cum leak from your pussy, dripping down onto the blankets beneath you. Running his tongue over his lower lip, he gathers some of the cum on his fore and middle fingers and presses them back into your pulsing cavern.

You gasp in surprise, entirely too overstimulated and your husband chuckles when your body jerks in response to that feeling before collapsing fully onto the mattress.

Pulling his fingers out, he deftly flips you back over and presses his fingers between your lips. You suck on the digits, cleaning the fluids from his fingers obediently with a hum. Sukuna smirks at you with lidded eyes as he pulls his digits back from your lips with a pop!

“Y’ did so good for me, princess,” he praises as he removes the knots from around your wrists and removes the nipple clamps to set them aside. Your eyes are still noticeably foggy as you come back down from your fourth and most intense orgasm of the night, so Sukuna takes the initiative to take care of you.

Sukuna isn’t the most adept when it comes to your emotions. If you aren’t blunt with him, he’ll often miss the signs that you’re upset and brush past any clues you drop for him. He may not always catch on to little hints you provide him, but he does try his best to keep an eye on you and provide nonetheless. That includes knowing exactly what the best kind of aftercare looks like for you.

He checks over both of your wrists and ankles for any sign that your harsh tugging on the ropes hurt you at all but he’s done far too much research to allow the ropes to bring you any harm.

Taking in a breath, he gets to his feet and starts the shower, reaching an arm out to test the temperature. When it reaches the temperature you prefer, he returns to the bed and lifts you easily into his arms bridal style. He relishes in the way you subconsciously cling to him, nuzzling your face into his chest like the monstrous biker with a reputation for being an asshole is your own personal hero.

Reaching the washroom, he gently places you on your feet although he knows your knees will buckle beneath you, so he holds you tightly to him, doing all the work as he moves the both of you into the shower as one.

As warm water washes over you and cleans all traces of sweat and other fluids from your body, Sukuna simply holds you tightly against him. When he feels you bury your face into his pecs after a couple of minutes, arms encircling his torso tightly, he knows you’re coming down from your climax.

“How d’ you feel, baby?” He asks. After sex is one of the few moments he does tend to get tender and gentle with you. He knows on any other occasion you can match his snide comments and keep him under wraps, but when it comes to aftercare he knows better than to get on your nerves.

He wants to keep you happy and in a state of bliss for as long as he can, enjoying the sweet and doting version of his wife he always gets after dicking you down so good that you can’t walk- which is exactly what he just did.

“Mmm, good, Kuna. You?”

He chuckles at the dreamy way your words come out, light as a feather on cloud nine. “Yeah me too, baby.”

Sukuna cleans you up as you move in slow motion post-orgasm, though he always keeps an arm around your waist to ensure you stay upright. It’s a sweet sentiment, knowing just how willing he is to not only do all the work of showering for the both of you but also hold you upright the entire time as well.

Once you’re both clean, he places one last kiss to the crown of your head, squeezing you tightly to him. He shuts the shower off and dries both of you off before finding his muscle shirt to throw over your head. It hangs off of you like a dress, the long holes on both sides where the sleeves have been cut off revealing the swell of your breasts.

Your husband’s head tilts as he admires the sight of you draped in his shirt, a yawn overtaking your features. He can’t help but to think of just how lucky he is to have married the hottest woman on the planet. And to think that woman lets him tie her up?

His cock throbs at the thought and he needs to push it aside out of fear of breaking you. He gets you settled in bed, pulling the covers over you before he pulls on a pair of boxers.

Sukuna slides into bed behind you, pulling you flush to him as his strong arms wrap around your middle. He buries his head into your shoulder, inhaling the fresh scent of floral body wash. Everything about you lulls him into a comfortable near-sleep state as you hum contentedly in front of him, feeling safe and happy in his embrace.

“I love you, Ryo,” you whisper over the dulled sounds of cars outside the window.

“Mhm, I know, brat.”

Sukuna may not say he loves you with words, but he shows that he does through the way he takes care of you. As his fingers move to gently card through your hair, you know Sukuna is showing that he loves you too.

main masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist || love & company masterlist

𓉸 a/n ; thanks for reading! i had so much fun with this one, please feel free to check out my husband!sukuna au that inspired this work and as always reblogs, comments, and likes are super appreciated ♡

𓉸 taglist ; @tojis-ball-sack @rathreads @sukunadckrider @nxcxllxsevens @r0ckst4rjk

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour Pt. 2

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: After falling asleep to his voice, you wake up and get confronted by Alastor. Later, you walk in on him sleeping.

Word count: 1523

Warnings: Mention of Alastor eating and k*lling a deer

part one

A/N: PART TWO IS HERE!!! I had SO many options wracking my brain on where to take this, but I picked this one! I hope you all enjoy it :’) let me know if you have any feedback, I’d love to hear it. Also, I’m currently working on all the requests I got :) as well as part 2 to that-no-good-first-man-on-earth

You wake up, blinking and looking around. Momentarily forgetting where you are.

Shit. You fell asleep in Alastor’s recording room. Thankfully, he isn’t here right now.

Before you could get up, you notice a purple blanket on you. It seems to be the one that was on his coat hanger. Did Alastor put this on you..? The thought has you smiling and your cheeks reddening.

Alastor’s voice sure does have an effect on you. You look outside to see what time it is, but remember that it’s Hell and the sky is always the same shade of red. You’re going to have to get used to that.

Getting up, you put the blanket back on the hanger and look around some more. It feels some-what intimate right now to be in his space when he’s not around. You wonder how long you’ve been asleep for.

You walk over to his table and notice a red “play” button on his radio equipment and are tempted to press it. It surely won’t cause any harm to hear what he was talking about when you were asleep. You press it and listen.

“Haha! For any sinner, I know it’s a tempting question. But I-“ The recording fast forwards. “Nevertheless, I find it quite amusing that this technology box thinks he is on any sort of level to me! Call me crazy but the sinners have been taaallkinggg, and they think he sounds quite obsessed.” He laughs, knowing Vox is probably listening.

You smile at his voice and find it funny how he is a bit of a drama queen when it comes to his radio broadcasts. You know deep down he doesn’t actually care about the whole situation with Vox, but it’s still funny how he entertains it.

Looking to your right, you see a mug that has “Oh Deer” written on it. There seems to be a bit of black coffee still left in the mug. The “deer” reference made you giggle. You’ve always wondered about his past and how exactly he is part deer anyhow. Oh well, It’ll reveal itself with time.

You’re looking at all the other buttons on his equipment, wondering what they do, when all of a sudden you hear light footsteps on the other side of the door. It’s most likely Alastor. Nobody would willingly go to his room without permission.

The door opens slowly and in steps Alastor. You notice how he opened the door quietly, to not make make much noise. As he still assumed you were asleep. You smiled at that.

He looks ahead and sees you, immediately smiling. “Ah! My dear. You’re awake!” He claps his hands together, his cane leaning on his side.

“Hey Al. Um.. about what happened I-“ You start.

“Ah, ah! No need to explain yourself, sweetheart! Don’t go giving yourself a headache.” He cuts in and laughs.

He looks down at you and says, “you just find comfort in my voice, don’t you?” He asks, with a smug smile.

Your eyes go wide and you stutter. Of course it wasn’t the most secretive thing. Still, you didn’t think he actually knew.

“U-um. Well..” You say.

He tilts his head to side as if saying, “Go on…”

There’s really no getting out of this. Plus, you don’t think Alastor would actually care. He’d probably just find it funny.

“Yeah, I do.” You admit. “I find comfort in your voice, of course I do! I just.. I don’t know.”

You aren’t sure what to say, it’s a tad embarrassing.

Alastor begins to laugh.

“I certainly could tell! I find it quite amusing if I do say so myself.” He says.

He definitely doesn’t mind it, he has a soft spot for you. But he’s also a bit confused on why you even do. He knows his radio voice is unique, but nobody ever commented on it bringing them comfort. They usually scream and run away when they hear him. You’ve been there long enough to see him kill and do so many things that people describe as “horrible, satanic, terrifying” but you still find comfort in him nevertheless? He thinks it’s absolutely adorable!

“Amusing?” You ask.

He nods and says, “Amusing, darling! I mean.. you know who I am, do you not?” He laughs and continues. “Though you still find comfort.. now that’s an interesting fact, don’t you think?”

You shy away, looking anywhere but him. You’re comfortable around him, of course, but you’re a tiny but embarrassed of this whole situation. You know he is definitely loving his though.

He places a finger on your jaw and guides your head back to look at him.

“Uh, uh, dear. There’s no need to feel shy! I never said it was a bad thing. I’m truly honoured!” He says, smiling down at you.

You and him have been getting to know each other for a while now and you’ve just been going deeply and deeply more interested in him. You almost laugh at yourself because you sometimes act as if you did when you alive, how you obsessed over fictional characters and “fan fiction.”

You look at him and say, “Well, that’s good then.” You chuckle.

“Mm, it is isn’t it?” He says.

He thinks you’re absolutely pathetic, but in a good way. He wouldn’t let anything hurt you, this new sensation is something he never wants to get rid of.

———————————————————————

Later that day, Charlie wanted you to pass a message on to Alastor about the hotel reservations. You knew he was in his room because he mentioned that if you needed him, he’d be in there having some dinner (aka, deer). Which he has in his half room half forest. You really wonder how on earth he even did that. The wonders of being a radio demon!

You’re at his door, lightly knocking. You wait a few seconds but you don’t hear anything from the other side.

“Al?” You question while knocking again.

“Hm.” You think.

You aren’t sure if you should go in or not. Sure, the thing Charlie told you about could wait but you also wanted to make sure he was okay. What if he.. choked or something? You’re sure the radio demon could handle that but you just want to make sure.

“Al, I’m coming in.. okay?” You say while knocking once more.

You slowly twist the knob and push the door open. Peaking in, you see him on the other side of the room, in a chair.

“Alastor, are you alr-“ You stop yourself when you notice his eyes are closed.

Closing the door behind you, you walk up to him.

He’s currently sitting in the chair, his arm on the table and his head resting on his hand. He looks so peaceful. His mouth isn’t smiling and his face just looks so.. relaxed. You’ve never saw him like this before. He mumbles occasionally and his ears twitch every so often as he sleeps. You aren’t sure how he finds this position comfortable, but you smile at it nonetheless.

You don’t want to disturb him so you leave, now relaxed that you know he’s okay.

Right before you grab the knob of the door, you hear, “Y/n?”

You whip your head back and you see him standing up, looking at you with his smile.

“Did you need something, dear?” He asks, as if he wasn’t just dead asleep a second ago.

Of course, it makes sense he is a light sleeper.

“O-oh, no. Charlie just wanted me to tell you that the renovations went well and that the guys who inspect the place will be here tomorrow!” You say. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Ahh, alright! And nonsense! You couldn’t disturb me.” He says.

You look at him and smile.

“You know, you could join me if you want! I was just resting and then going to have some dinner.” He offers.

You perk up but then remember that Husk assigned you a task of picking up crates of whiskey for the bar.

“Shit, sorry. I can’t. I have to go get more alcohol for the bar.” You say with a frown.

“More? If I remember correctly, we just got new shipments in.. last week?” He says with a laugh. “Though I’m not surprised we ran out again. Husker is a busy man. Well, my dear. Some other time, then!”

You notice him looking back into the forest, eyeing a deer.

“Yeah, some other time.” You smile. “Have a good dinner, Alastor!”

He smiles back at you says, “Oh I will.” He chuckles, his radio eyes making an appearance as he looks back the deer.

“You have yourself a lovely day, sweetheart!” He says with a wave.

“You too!” Waving back, you then open the door and leave. Once you leave you hear shrieking on the other side of the door, definitely the deer that Al was eyeing.

You’re excited to have more encounters with him, and even take him up on the dinner offer! You remember him mentioning he wanted to introduce you to his friend, Rosie. You’re looking forward to it.

[keferon]

i was inspired by your tf mecha au; do you think that pharma loses his mind working with the pilots similar to the way he loses it at delphi?

like the pressure of being the cmo of so many people who go out and come back dead or injured to the point of decommission isn't going to make him crack, but maybe fielding shockwaves requests for experiment subjects for whatever he's cooking up...now he's forced to choose which of his patients go back out into the field and which ones go to shockwaves lab

and if one of said (technically on his roster) patients is his ex-coworker first aid, whos now drawn shockwaves attention for being mixed up with vortex? 

______________________________________________________________

He was going to kill that motherfucker First Aid. 

The next time the little twerp showed up and buckled into the cockpit, Vortex was going to cause a catastrophic casualty event inside the hangar. Lots of blood. Lots of screaming. Lots of body parts scattered around. Lots of blaming First Aid for going postal before Vortex liquifies his brain. The resolution to murder his pilot eases Vortex’s sour mood slightly, the promise of First Aid’s agonized screams a small comfort. 

The unfortunate part? He really had been starting to like the guy. Shit pilot, but Vortex didn’t need him touching his controls or fucking around with his cockpit settings. First Aid- Felix was a rapt audience when needed and knew how to whimper and complain just right- if he gave into Vortex’s whims too fast, it was no fun. Too long, and Vortex would actually get pissed. First Aid got the timing just right to make twisting the metaphorical screws into him interesting. Hell, First Aid himself was the most interesting thing to crawl into his cockpit. Soft little base-bound medic, ostensibly devoted to the greater good and helping others and whatever bullshit medics liked to harp on about. But there’s no hiding anything that goes on inside Vortex from Vortex, and the way the EKG and brain activity readouts from the pilot’s helm spike during battle is more than just fear or adrenaline. It was cute.

And now the little sad-sack piece of shit was standing him up. 

Not once but twice now the deployment klaxons in the hangar have gone off, and not once but twice the technicians and pilots have swarmed every other mech and left him idle in his docking bay. First Aid didn’t even show up in between raids, leaving Vortex to stew alone. Didn’t come stand in his cockpit, playing the too-loud music Vortex liked best. Didn’t come deliver those dataslugs with information about the various battlefronts opening and closing across the planet and the latest pop-culture updates. Vortex had threatened to drop his canopy on First Aid the last time he’d added that stupid shit, but he’d thought the threat had been hollow enough. First Aid didn’t even come and eat his lunch out on the walkways of the service tower like the fucking loser he is.

The first time Felix failed to show, Vortex had wormed his way into base records to make sure that no fuckwit armchair tactician had reassigned his ‘Aid, but nope, there was First Aid’s actual, government name, faithfully logged against Vortex’s designation in the roster, active duty. 

And maybe he’d checked the roster every day since, so what? It’s called being thorough. 

The hangar salles are emptying of the remainder of the technician crews, skittering well clear of Vortex so he can’t even stage a little accident for the rats. He lets his internal targeting programs pick the white-hot infrared figures out from against the hangar floor and imagines shooting them into pulp. It doesn’t help.

 Two tiny figures push through the doors and make their way across the hanger towards Vortex. He points his chassis cameras at them and adjusts the focus. One is limping, pilot’s helmet tucked under his arm. The other strides next to him, every half-step sideways as they lecture the first. They approach slowly, weaving around technicians and stacks of equipment and Vortex starts flicking through his weapons and motor systems so he can stage the wettest, goriest accident for them (with a big splash radius!). 

The two come closer, the limping one taking his sweet fucking time getting close enough for Vortex’s cameras to pick out details. 

First Aid looks like someone spent a good few days beating the fuck out of him, then went back and made sure to beat the shit out of him too. The pilot is pale and unsteady looking, and one leg of his pilot suit is hiked up over the knee to make space for a bulky medical brace that encases his entire lower leg. He needs help scaling the service tower and limps down the umbilical catwalk, gripping the railing like it’s going to protect him from Vortex’s wrath. Behind him, Pharma’s shiny shoes click with finality, blue-gloved hands clasped neatly over his stomach. 

Vortex pressurizes his hydraulics too fast, the pistons hissing under the weight of his cockpit canopy lifting. Get the fuck in, First Aid, Vortex thinks vengefully at the pilot. Get the fuck in so I can kill you. 

First Aid, damn him to hell and back, takes for-fucking-ever to even get close to Vortex, medical boot clanking unevenly against the walkway. Active duty, Vortex’s giant metal ass. He stops, leaning one hand against Vortex's hull, just enough to the side of the canopy that Vortex can't drop it on him. Asshole. Pharma doesn't even come close enough to him, keeping well enough away that Vortex can't do shit to him. First Aid's hand is a tiny point of warmth against his plating and Vortex is going to kill him out on the catwalk if he doesn’t get in the cockpit right fucking now.

“Felix, you absolutely cannot perform in your condition.” The CMO says stridently, with the conviction of a man who has never heard the word no. “You are not recovered. There is absolutely no reason to risk your safety-”

First Aid’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, unable to get a word in around Pharma’s tirade. The medic blathers on about reinfection, delayed reaction times, yadda yadda yadda proteins and antigens and bullshit Vortex couldn’t give a shit about. 

“Pharma-”  First Aid interrupts with a reedy voice, “I really- I need to go.”

He stumbles into Vortex's cockpit, awkwardly dragging his braced leg over the threshold. Vortex depressurizes the cockpit hydraulics and slams the canopy shut behind him, locking First Aid into his darkness. Pharma stands on the catwalk, looking like someone shoved a lemon through his teeth.

“Pharma’s gone insane.” First Aid blurts. Vortex’s infrared cameras train on him. “He-”

A nervous laugh and his heat signature sways drunkenly.

“I think he's trying to kill me.” First Aid whispers, “I'm sick, but it's not-”

[SIT DOWN]

He collapses into the pilot’s chair, and Vortex pulls the restraints around him tight enough to make him wheeze.

“Vortex-” Vortex drops the tangle of neural-net connectors onto his head with an audible thwack, and the medic dutifully snaps them into place on his helmet, the iris of the connection spinning wide between them.

 First Aid is trembling in the pilot’s chair, hands folded in his lap as if prayer has any chance of saving him. Vortex spins up his powertrain, pressurizing his hydraulics and shouldering free of the service tower’s struts. After a moment’s thought, he turns down his gyroscopes, letting each step rattle the cockpit. He can feel the other’s mind in his systems, fenced in by Vortex’s firewalls, churning with the franticness of a small animal caught in a trap. Vortex calls up a memory of the cockpit oozing with viscera and gore, what remained of the pilot settling into pulpy piles across the cabin floor, directing it at First Aid with viscous intent. The pilot rewards him with a shudder, shoulders hunching and curling into himself. His hands are shaking, and his internal temperature spikes even higher in the infrared. 

Vortex steps out of the hangar, already slotting the set of response coordinates into his navigation system. The shift from idle to top speed has First Aid rattling against his restraints, and each step afterwards knocks his boot against Vortex’s instrument panels. He hopes it hurts. He lets the navicomputer guide his steps, turning his attention back to his captive audience, sending a crackle of electricity through the helmet connections. First Aid spasms in his seat with a grit-toothed moan of pain. Vortex shocks him again to hear that growled sound. Then again, just for good measure. The medic sags forward with a whimper. 

Vortex reaches through their connection, dragging electric claws against the pinned-open neural clusters comprising First Aid’s mind. He spasms again, boot kicking uselessly against Vortex's instrument panels, fingers clawing at the restraints mindlessly. First Aid’s memories flick by him and Vortex’s internal data readouts ping him that his pilot is suffering acute distress. Good. He pushes further, every metric flipping red as First Aid thrashes, consciousness pinned tight by Vortex’s code and picked open like a dying lamb before a vulture. More memories flash by. Cold medibay, cold room, shivering alone under too-thin covers, cold fluid seeping down a IV drip, fever searing too-hot too-cold sick sick sick why not getting better getting worse cold cold cold-

Pharma.

Pharma’s voice, cold and demanding. Pharma’s hands, blue-gloved and cold against First Aid’s skin, pushing in more needles, attaching more sensors, pulling down the covers to check his body- always so, so cold. Memory-First Aid shivers and burns and heaves and there's always, always more cold fluid seeping into his system.

Klaxons. Vortex; he has to-

Pharma pushes him back down and he goes back to shivering and burning and heaving, time slipping by unevenly. Seconds in hours, days in seconds, whole nights spent torturously aware something is wrong with Pharma’s care, wrong with the IV that itches and creeps through his systems, wrong with the so-called disease- not a disease- that's burning through him, only to lose track once again with day. The klaxons go off, and memory-First Aid heaves himself up- why is his leg?- pulls off the sensors and disconnects the turbid IV line with shaking hands- his suit, where’s his- 

The memories slip through Vortex’s grasp- 

The hall is so, so, cold but First Aid had fumbled his way back to his room, found his helmet and pulled his drivesuit on. The klaxons have fallen silent but- 

Pharma. The sight of the CMO makes First Aid falter and draw back, turning a random corner and leaning against the wall. Uncharacteristic fear fills him, and First Aid gags, empty stomach roiling- he needs to run, hide, needs-

Vortex gets a better grip on the panicked memories; the tide of fear permeating them through the haze of sickness is familiar to follow. First Aid’s emotional state thrums through them, his fear of Pharma, the medibay- whatever the fuck was in that IV. Vortex has seen this kind of instinctive fear before- the base, hardwired need for self-preservation that has seasoned pilots screaming for reinforcements or cutting from a fight altogether. He’s caused this feeling enough times. Hell, he remembers before he died- 

First Aid tries to retreat, but Pharma corners him- the panic surging chokingly high- get away get away get away-! The ex-medic’s memories swirl, brain too hazy for a plan- can’t fight Pharma out here in a public hallway- only thing to do is run- run where- pilots don’t run- what do pilots do when they run?

Return to base.

Return to safety.

Return to Vortex.

The thought crystallizes out of First Aid’s chaotic mind. Return to Vortex. Vortex means safety for First Aid, and that’s- why the fuck? Vortex is a violent, awful man turned into a violent, awful, storeys-tall killing machine. He’s tried to kill First Aid before. But here sits First Aid, trembling in fear underneath Vortex’s iron fist and still thinking safe when he thinks of Vortex, standing deep in the bowels of one of the most secure facilities on earth. 

Vortex needs to kill something. Messily. 

Vortex’s radar pings, alerting him to the fact that the aliens will be obliging him today. He barrels forth, pulling his awareness out of First Aid and engaging his combat protocols, the cockpit’s running lights dimming. The first little fucker dies before its fellows can swing around to face Vortex, blades driving home through its technorganic chassis. The spray of mineral-rich arterial fluid spatters across his visor as Vortex rips free of it, already turning to face the next one. First Aid, dazed and infirm as he is, makes a breathy sound of approval as Vortex butchers his way through second with ease. 

Vortex loses himself in the slaughter, hacking his way through the field of enemies with fluid ease. His visor is completely smeared with gore, and somewhere along the way he’d stepped in the deactivated frame of one, organic intestines wrapping around his pede and squelching into his seams. He vents the excess steam from his drives, the heavy plume trailing him as Vortex stomps across the silent, cratered battlefield. He’s not going to indulge First Aid and let him dismount to collect trophies today. His radar cycles quietly, only returning back the signatures of co-pilots. Vortex toys briefly with the idea of killing one of them to finish off the day, but dismisses it. His previous anger has cooled to the point where he can restrain himself from doing something that would definitely get First Aid court martialed and executed.

The RTB order comes crackling through his comms soon enough, and Vortex sets a direct route back to base. First Aid has gone quiet now that the battle is over, the excitement warring with his fatigue and losing, brain activity slowing. Vortex is halfway back to his hangar when realization hits him- First Aid has fallen asleep in the pilot’s chair, head nodding down over his chest, legs stretched out in front of him. Son of a brazen bitch. Vortex has to double check his internal readings and cockpit cams to confirm it; opening the piloting connection again to poke at First Aid before stopping.

It would be so easy to mash his digital fingers into the slumbering jello of First Aid’s brain, reach back through the electronics and grind it into pulp before the medic could even scream, punish him for being late, being absent, being…First Aid. He ghosts over the steady stream of First Aid’s biometric data filtering through his systems, studying the slow ripple of sine waves and EKG readings. The urge to redirect his ventilation systems and fill the cockpit with carbon monoxide itches through his circuits. Send ‘Aid off nice and easy. The thought isn’t as fun as it should be.

Vortex adjusts his gyroscopes, changes his mind, sets them back, then changes his mind and adjusts them again. He goes back to half-watching the biodata’s scroll as he navigates back to base. First Aid sleeps on, limp in the pilot’s chair and head lolling. He’d bit his lip hard enough to bleed during the battle, and the dried blood is beginning to flake off.

Vortex returns to the hangar, perfectly navigating into the docking bay and shifting his systems towards idle. First Aid is still dead to the world, brainwaves ticking nice and open for Vortex to page through. He loosens the pilot’s restraints. No response.

You gotta be dumb as hell to fall asleep inside of an active mech and even dumber to fall asleep inside Vortex. First Aid didn’t seem to get that memo, or maybe he really was too tired to care.  

A technician comes down the walkway, hesitating before knocking on Vortex’s cockpit. He lets his engine rumble and still-warm weapons systems spin warningly until they back off, the whole crew retreating to what they probably think is a safe distance. He checks First Aid for the nth time; still sleeping. He thinks about frying his little pilot’s brain, forcing his way into the unguarded neural pathways and wreaking havoc until ‘Aid is just another gibbering husk the techs will have to haul out of his cockpit. No matter how many different scenarios he comes up with, how many different ways he imagines mutilating and killing First Aid, it feels hollow. Bland. Lacking imagination. A baby's temper tantrum.

The memory of First Aid’s trust sits deep in Vortex’s memory banks. The fragile data points and bioscans are tucked safely away in the core of his processor, spelling out V-O-R-T-E-X and S-A-F-E-T-Y in their cross-referenced entirety. He’s so- stupid, dumb, trusting ‘Aid. Vortex reaches through the connection, pushing back into First Aid’s mind with ease. The pilot twitches in his sleep, groans a little, but there’s none of the expected base fear and get-out instinct as Vortex pets gently over the fragile organic network, trailing electric signals across his nervous system. Brain cells or someshit. Where the hell is memory stored in this thing?

He presses on a neural cluster, sends Vortex rippling through the neurons and gets back shit like strong and terrifying and a complex little series of impulses that feels like a combination of safe and trust, which are words that have no business having any relation to Vortex. Sickening. He thinks about pressing further in, muscling into Felix’s welcoming brain like he did into the mech’s systems when he first died and staying there. He sends Vortex out again, receives trust and safe and-

Vortex withdraws. The technicians are setting up hoses for spraying his plating with solvent so he slams his outer vents shut and switches the cockpit to internally filtered ventilation. Felix doesn’t need to be breathing in whatever the hell shit they use to dissolve the alien viscera off of his hull. He turns the heat up in the cockpit after checking the infrared again. The cold wash of solvent courses over his plating and obscures his external sensor net so Vortex turns his attention back to Felix. 

Idiot still didn’t wake up even with Vortex actively playing piano on his brain strings. He displays that thought on his cockpit readout along with several more choice thoughts about Felix’s parentage and character. Still sleeping. 

Which is- it’s- Vortex is surprisingly fine with it. Felix might be dumb, and naive, and far too willing to let Vortex into his shit and a shit pilot on top of all that; but he’s Vortex’s dumb, naive and shit pilot.  If he wants to sleep off whatever Pharma pumped him full of inside Vortex’s cockpit, fine. Vortex will pressurize the hydraulics and drop the locking pins and keep him there until his Felix is crying to be let out. 

Then he's going to kill that motherfucker Pharma.

anon. ANON WHOEVER YOU ARE LET ME HOLD YOUR HAND AND HUG YOU. WRITING THIS ABSOLUTE BANGER OF A TEXAID AND SENDING IN ANONYMOUSLY?? THATS SOME KIND OF FANFIC VERSION OF SECRET IDENTITY SUPERHERO BULLSHIT RIGHT HERE /pos

I LOVE IT. I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE ITTTTT YOU WROTE THEM SO GOOD ITS FKKGMGNGMGMGMGMG IM BREWING YOUR COFFEE WITH MY MIND

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[on-leatheredwings]

Checkmate

Yandere! Tim Drake / (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, rated M > tw/cw: yandere-typical behaviors (obsession). M rating is for a boner. just some sexual tension. reader is mentioned as bisexual.

> summary: Intellectually, Tim falls fast. Romantically, he falls hard. Seems this time it's both. > a/n: i just wanted to post some tim practice, pls let me know if i did okay. I made him a bit of a fuckboy i guess but ngl i think tim’s just run through af 😭 > word count: 1268

Tim likes you. And knowing himself, soon, he’s going to really like you.

More than anticipated, too. He didn’t think he’d have much of an opinion at all on you, when you had first met on your first day, in your new position as his personal assistant.

Personal assistant. 

At the reveal, he exchanged a hard look with Bruce across the room. Tim Drake had not been slacking on the job. And sometimes he had the eye bags to prove it.

Tim hadn’t even said anything yet, when you chirped, “Think of it as delegation.”

You gave him a pleasant, albeit cheeky look – which he respected. If you had the qualifications and enough charm to impress the hiring manager, who was a notorious hardass in interviews, you were probably fine. Probably more than fine.

Either way, he expected to forget your existence until you texted or called him to remind him about meetings he hadn’t forgotten about.

It turns out, you had… personality. Probably more than you should’ve, working in the professional setting of Wayne Enterprises. You dealt with Tim’s shit (absences, excuses), but gave as good as you got (ultimatums, thinly-veiled blackmail to run and tell Bruce). You were also… very attractive. And clever. And smart. And insightful.

And God, he wonders if you have a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. And he wonders if he can somehow orchestrate a breakup. 

Tim moves a chess piece across the board. 

Okay, maybe he’s being too hasty. 

Oh, for the love of– you know what? No, he isn’t being too hasty. Anyone working in such close quarters with the heir apparent of Wayne Enterprises is heavily vetted. But it’s about time he did his own background check on you. He has made it three whole months without doing so. 

See, he really is getting over his control issues. Eat that, Stephanie.

Okay, if he’s going to entertain the idea of courting you– Wait, wait, since when was it courting? Yeah, no. He’s merely entertaining the thought of you. He’s been burned too many times now to start courting.

Let’s talk about having sex first before we start talking about dating, he jests with himself.

Anyway. He wonders what would be the most interesting means of going about this. Coming out and confessing would be a little boring. Too easy. His eyes wander to your lips. You’re too focused on making your next move to notice him ogling the soft swell of your chest beneath a sharp button-up. You’ve rolled up the sleeves – very casual for this very casual hangout. You both lounge on your bed, in your bedroom, in your apartment, because if Tim wins, you don’t get to hound him on personally contacting investors. (Sometimes, you gotta leave malcontents out to dry. Make them miss you.)

He hopes you like being experimented with. Or maybe you like experimenting on others. He would do anything you liked because, man, it’s thrilling to know people and their wants. Anything you give, he could take it–

Tim startles as a realization comes to his mind. 

… Him. Taking it.

Is that something he wants? To bottom for you? … Is that something… he wants? 

Yes.

Now that the idea has been conceived, yes, he wants that. So that’s that. 

The reality of whether you’d want to do that… is slim… maybe? You’re bi as well. Maybe that changes things. He’s not going to think about it too hard, because now he’s getting excited.

Tim would love for the skittering, synapses-firing-on-all-cylinders effect in his brain to cool down – for everything to wash over with cool calculation and academic interest. He manages to do that much for even the most intriguing cases. But you… Tim sighs.

And now he’s hard.

Tim shifts uncomfortably. He’s lying on his stomach, held up by his forearms. 

He sighs, even though there’s an evil piece of his brain snickering and taunting, “But you love this, though!” Evil, evil.

At Tim’s increasing silence, you lift a brow. Man, he’s been out of it all game.

“Tim?” He comes back to planet Earth. “It’s your move. Again.” You wear a Cheshire grin. “It’s almost like we’re taking turns, or something.”

He blinks, baby blue eyes clearing up. He shifts in his spot, feeling trills of pleasure from friction against erection. Your sheets. Against his erection. He bites back a smile. Okay, yes, he loves this. He likes hiding like this, right under your nose.

Him getting a boner was a development he had foreseen coming ten minutes ago, once he started daydreaming about you. So he just went ahead and casually switched positions. A risk, but a calculated one. He was pretty sure there’d be no reason for him to get up and expose the tent in his jeans. And boy does he love it when he’s right.

Tim goes to move another piece, when he glances up at you and nearly goes slack-jawed. You don’t meet his eyes. Instead, you wet your lips, seemingly meditating on something.

You meditate on him. After all, Tim is so… pretty. Pretty in a way unlike the rest of his gorgeous brothers. He has pretty eyes framed by dark lashes and a smaller frame, though he’s deceptively muscled under the clean-cut slacks and button ups. He has silky black hair that often falls into his eyes; a defined jaw. And pale skin. He is notably the palest in his family, burning miserably on beach days. It is that pale skin, contrasted so sharply with his dark green tee, that brings your eyes to his collarbones.

Tim nearly erupts.

Fuck, yes. He caught you staring. It takes him self-restraint not to puff out his chest or try to show more skin, lest he reveal his hard-on.

You snap out of it only moments after he notices, grin returning to your face.

“You know if you lose focus like that, I’m going to win,” you tease, almost childlike mischief in your expression. 

Tim so badly wants to parrot the words back at you, but he doesn’t want to scare you into never checking him out ever again. The little inch you just gave him– oh, he intends to take a mile. Whatever small acquiesces you give in the future, he knows he’ll take that and much more.

Now, he’s hungry for you. As soon as this game is done, he’s going to create a new case study file, just for you. He could start kicking his feet at the thought, he's that excited. He’s excited! 

He’ll put the pedestrian, basic stuff like your height, weight, alma mater, major, past jobs and experiences. Somehow get into your social media that’s all on private mode to see what you’re always laughing at on that damn phone. He’s also going to bring up your phone records, go through your email, go through your physical mail. Oh, fuck, surveillance. He’s already in your room, too, luckily. If only he had more of his bugs on hand… The ones he always keeps in his belt buckle will do for now. Also, Tim needs to think of some way to acquire your breast, waist, and hip size – he has a good idea of those measurements, but he wants to know. When is the next time you’ll be out of the house and not at work, he wonders–

“Tim,” you whine, impatient. The sound is music to his ears.

Tim’s eyes rise from the board to your pouting face, and he smiles apologetically. Suddenly, your face dawns with disbelief and indignance.

Tim swiftly picks up one last piece and knocks one yours over.

“Checkmate.”

[sunnyzunny]

❝A LIAR’S OBSESSION❞

YANDERE DRABBLES #1 . . .

☆ ━━ [ yandere! husband x AFAB! reader ]

TW ; foul language, yandere content, sexual content and language, no pronouns used for the reader, stalking, obsession, toxic relationships, mental / emotional abuse, and more.

╳ This is not meant to be romanticized. If you or any of your loved ones portray behavior such as this, please consult into a professional. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. You have been warned. ╳

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who hates to leave you alone. Each morning he clambers out of bed or has to go on long business trips, he grits his teeth and glides his fingers across your sleeping figure. Why did he have to leave? Couldn’t he just work from home?

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who never fails to make you breakfast before he has to leave for the day. Always homemade. Want pancakes? He’ll make them. Want eggs with toast and bacon? He’ll whip them up as fast as he can. He finds joy in acts of service—no matter what time of day or if he’s running late. Even if he’s behind the clock, he never leaves in the morning without making you breakfast.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who always sneaks a bite and hums around when he imagines you eating his food. Fuck. He really wanted to say.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who mutters profanity as he drives to work. If he crashed his car and was sent to the hospital, maybe he’d be able to spend more time with you. You could coddle him and he could usher you to kiss him better. His skin warmed at the thought. Oh, he’d do anything for some kisses.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who hates everyone but you. Forcing himself to work at his desk, snapping at anyone who came in looking for him. So what if he was their boss? He didn’t give a shit. They just needed to follow his orders and leave him the fuck alone.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who scares all his employees. They know he’s obsessed with you, which is why they won’t even mention your name at work. They don’t want to find their head cracked open because they accidentally said something too close, too inappropriate, and uncomfortable…

Because the last time your YANDERE! HUSBAND heard someone gossiping about his relationship at work, they wound up in the hospital with a head cracked open and significant head trauma. If they remembered he did it, they didn’t share. Because who would snitch in a situation like that? Not when they could still vividly remember his eyes; cold, dangerous, emerald green.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who constantly checks what you’re doing, where you’re at, what you’re up too. He doesn’t care if it’s stalking. He has to make sure you’re safe, that you haven’t just deserted him. It’s a good thing you usually always stay at home. Each time you have to go somewhere, he goes for a break (without telling anyone) just to take you there. A precious woman like yourself can’t go out alone, that’s dangerous.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who speeds back home with good control. Whizzing down the highway as rain splatters across the windshield, zipping in between cars, blasting soft music on the radio. He always drove with amazing ease. Obviously, he was used to speeding.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who barrels back inside and tackles you into a hug each time he’s done with work. Pulling you into him, inhaling your scent, feeling the warmth of your body pressed up against his own. A shudder goes down his spine every time. Being away from you for a minute physically hurts him.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who refuses to let you go. Because what happens if you let go and you never want to hold him again? He won’t allow something like that to happen.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who has big hands. Large, strong hands who could break your bones if he wanted too—but with you? He was gentle. He was soothing. He’d rather shoot himself in the head than hurt you… because what if you hated him? What if you tried to divorce him? He wouldn’t allow that. He refuses to let that happens

His arms tighten around you. His chest was tight. “Hm, can I kiss you?”

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who melts when you look up at him and nod. He could gaze in your eyes and forever be lost

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who kisses you in every way he possibly can. It always starts off tender and slow (he won’t scare you away because then you won’t come back) before heating up, his large hands grabbing your waist and squeezing it, yanking you into him as he tilted his head further into you. Kissing with tongue, clashing teeth, and ragged breaths.

He can’t get enough. There’s nothing you could do that would give him enough. He gets dizzy off your overwhelming scent, losing breath as he kisses you more and more and more and more. Fuckkkk! He couldn’t get enough. He wanted more! His large hands roamed your back, his heart flipping when he heard you take a gasp for air each time he pulled away momentarily.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who feels sick to his stomach each time you pull away from his kisses and tell him that you want to do something else. Why? Why do you want to do something else? He wanted to do you. Flip you up on the kitchen counter, yank your dress up, and feast on the one thing he’s been dying to feast on since he started married you. To see you come undone by his fingers and tongue alone, the way your face scrunches up and your moans bounce off the walls. The sounds you’d make… oh, fuck. He wanted it so bad—

But he won’t. Because you don’t want that. And if he did do that, you’d never want to be with him again… and he has to keep you close. He needs too.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who doesn’t rush you when you tell him you don’t want to lose your virginity yet. He knows you’re scared of sex, it’s not because you hate him. He knows you’re insecure (why? He has no clue) so he knows you don’t want to expose yourself to him. At least not yet. He doesn’t rush you because the moment he does, you’ll hate him. He’d rather wait. Sex won’t be as enjoyable if you hate him.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who still touches you inappropriately afterwards. As you two go to watch a movie, he will kiss your neck and nip at your collarbone, relishing your movements each time you forget about the screen altogether. What? He’s not forcing you to have sex with him. He’s just giving you a taste of some foreplay! There’s nothing wrong with that.

“Hm, your neck is so pretty marked up like that…” he whispered. “Love your little gasps.”

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who tries to see your face contort in pleasure each time he gets. Whether it be by an “accidental” grind or a purposeful touch between your legs. He always has to hide his frown when you eventually shove his hand away, making his jaw click to the side. You never notice. Why would you notice? He’s the “perfect” husband.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who still enjoys spending time with you even though he’s pent up. He loves cuddling into you, even if it’s not sexual, as the two of you watch a movie. He likes watching scary movies with you. The way you jump and grasp at his arm, the way you constantly close your eyes and look at him when you’re too scared to look at the TV.

Sometimes he has the urge to purposely scare you himself. What would you look like when you jumped, flinching away from him? What would you look like when you realized it was just him joking around? Would you melt into his arms, allow him to kiss your worries away, play with your hair?

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who gets jealous each time a hot actor comes on the screen. He glances at you throughout it, watching as you gnawed on your bottom lip, even though you told him that you, and he quotes, “don’t have any celebrity crushes.”

What a liar. As he watches you stare at the screen, green eyes darkening at the thought of you ogling some other man, he’s quick to distract you with needy kisses on the sensitive part of your neck. When your breathing hitches, he drags your head to the side to look at him. You know he’s jealous. He always looks scary when he’s jealous.

“Your husband is right here.”

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who groans when it’s time to go to bed. Why couldn’t he stay up a little bit more so he could spend time with you? The sooner he goes to bed, the sooner he has to wake up and go to work again.

He could just lock you up. Being you to work with him. His employees wouldn’t say a thing, he’d make sure they didn’t say anything. He could just keep you by his side forever. Use you whenever he wanted. He was quick to push these dark thoughts away.

No, no. He had to make sure he didn’t push you away.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who clings to you when you try to get up. You have to pry him off just to get ready for bed. After another ten minutes, twenty minutes if he’s lucky, you can get up.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who jumps in the shower before going to bed. He had to be clean for you. He wanted you to like the smell of his freshly clean hair, the softness of his skin, the warm curves of his biceps and chest. He also had to be clean, just in case you miraculously changed your mind and said you wanted to have sex with him.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who always lets out his pent up stress in the shower. Chasing after his own release, biting his lip so you didn’t hear the grunts and whines falling from his lips, eyes rolling back. He was getting more and more impatient every day. Sure, he didn’t marry you for sex, and he’d live without it—but FUCK, he wanted to pound you into the sheets and breed you.

When would you allow him to do it? Even if you didn’t want kids, even if the idea of having a ton of mini yous around the house irked him, he wanted to see your face when he spilled inside you.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who purposely walks out of the shower with just a towel around his waist to see you get embarrassed. He liked the way you averted your eyes and smiled, biting your lip, too shy to watch him out some clothes on. Not that you did any of this. He has yet to even see you under your underwear—but that’s okay. He can manage and wait.

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND you climbs into bed and presses kisses to your temple. He pulls you close and wraps his arms around you.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much. I don’t want to live a life without you. I’d die without you.”

“I love you too.”

“You won’t ever leave me, right?”

You smiled. “Of course not.”

Your YANDERE! HUSBAND who grins at the response. Good. All those efforts to keep you away from other people, to make sure you didn’t have any other friends other than his company, was paying off. All the lying was working. You weren’t dumb by any means… he was just better. But that’s okay.

He wouldn’t allow you to leave even if you tried. He’d chain you up and keep you as his forever if you dared even suggest the thought of divorce or separation from him.

Because you’re his.

Only his.

This Drabble was based off one of my yandere books online! Please check out my YANDERE HUSBAND story called “Muzzle [yandere mafia husband x female! reader]” online.

You can find this on both QUOTEV and WATTPAD. If you like this story, please make sure to star, heart, or comment on the stories to show support! I also have a discord server if you’re interested…

Thank you so much for reading this Drabble! Make sure to heart and comment if you want to see more content like this.

[saerins]

ᯓ ᝰ RIGHT HERE .ᐟ — touya todoroki

touya x female reader. content tags modern au, childhood sweetheart!touya, both are working adults, making out, mentions of infidelity/murder, he’s a tease. word count 1.7k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ haha can you tell i love touya too much rn ? just getting back into writing so have some of my touya :) thanks to any of you who read this <3

“touya, you’re gonna make me late for work tomorrow,” you whine, pouting as he wins you in yet another round of super smash bros. (and hence you’d have to stay up and continue playing at his behest.)

beside you, touya smirks, rows of pearly white visible while he clearly enjoys tormenting you. “weren’t you the one who said you needed a distraction?”

you grumble as you take the couch pillow and hold it over your face, groaning in frustration. touya’s right; you’d called him right after dinner, practically forced him to come after you figured out that you’re actually not as strong you thought and you’re actually still really upset that your ex cheated on you.

it’s only pathetic because it’s already been a couple of months and you’re still wallowing over it somehow.

“you know, i bet all that frustration will go away if you just let me kill that fucker,” touya tells you, flicking your forehead as leans forward, yanking the cushion off your face.

unamused, you deadpan at him. “yeah? then what am i gonna do when you’re in jail, huh?”

touya snickers, “aww, what? can’t handle being without me?”

in a strange way, your honest answer is definitely not. you’ve known touya forever. ever since you were five and your families connected at a preschool event. ever since your friend fuyumi introduced you to her brother. ever since touya confided in you how much he hated his father.

fast forward more than a decade later and you’re both sitting in your apartment, in a different state than either of your families, still as close as you were when you were kids.

you glare at touya, rolling your eyes before scrunching your nose and smirking at him. “actually, go ahead, i’ll go find myself a better guy while you rot in the cell.”

your best friend scoffs, cocking a brow and looking like he’s offended. “i off someone for you and you don’t marry me immediately? the fuck is wrong with you?”

the shit-eating grin that dawns on his face immediately after makes your heart skip a beat. yeah, you’ve always found him attractive, maybe even had a crush on him back in high school, but he’d always had girls after girls, and somewhere along the way you learned to stuff those flimsy emotions back down.

until you remember that he’s been single for a while now, and the fact that you’re both working adults with all the freedom in the world.

fuck, you really shouldn’t go back there.

“haha, funny,” you try to wave it off sarcastically. “says the one who told his ex that he just sees me as a little sister.”

he laughs, leaning back against the couch, a hand behind his head, abs sticking out from the edge of his shirt. it takes you a second to rein yourself in, not wanting to get teased relentlessly by him if you get caught staring.

“hey, she was getting jealous of me spending so much time with you! what was i supposed to say?”

yes, you’re aware. most of them were. most of the time you never told touya about any of that; of how his girlfriends were coming up to you, all insecure about your friendship and asking if you could back off. that was the most common thing among all his relationships: the girls’ pleas for you to keep a distance.

you did… the first few times.

and after his fifth relationship, you realised that touya would always pull you back close. would always end up breaking up with them if your friendship is causing them too much worry.

“you didn’t have to say anything, maybe you should’ve just kept your distance, you know? since most of them seemed to have a problem with it,” you comment, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, though even you don’t believe yourself.

a life without touya is unimaginable for you. even if you can’t really say the same for him.

touya sighs, shifting in his position before ultimately putting an arm around you, pulling you close. he smells like your soap and his hair against your face tickles.

he’s always like this; always touchy, always close. recently he’s been more than usual, coming over and sleeping the night (you never did anything physical!), chasing other guys away at the club because they’re not good enough for you.

and when he’s like that, you think maybe there’s no harm in letting those long-lost feelings flow back.

it’s dangerous.

he’s always like this. always way too much for you to handle. and yet you can’t live without him.

and then he does something he’s never done before.

you feel his lips on your temple, and you hear the chuckle reverberating from his throat. his left arm around you holds you tight, not that you’re running anywhere—you’re pretty sure you’re frozen stiff from the shock.

did that really happen?

“how can i do that when you’re the only one i want?”

you’re sure that’s his voice. it can’t be anyone else’s. but you’re not sure if you believe him. is he really saying what you think he’s saying?

slowly, you turn to face him, expecting him to wear that smug grin and tease you for being so gullible but it never comes. instead, you’re greeted with his half-lidded eyes, blue pupils staring at your lips like he’s hypnotised, his thumb caressing your lower lip from left to right like he’s trying to memorise all the grooves.

it’s so soft that you barely recognise your own voice when it comes, “touya, kiss me.”

and maybe he’s always wanted to, because he doesn’t miss a beat. the second you open your mouth, he’s giving you what you asked for, his tongue prying your lips open and he tastes just like the warm in winter mornings, like the comfort people always dream about.

mint. you can taste the sweet from when he ate it right before he beat you in the game. you can feel the cold on the tip of your nose from when you brush against the piercings on his nostrils. you can feel him carry you onto his lap, feel his hands wrapping around your waist. you can feel his heartbeat under his chest, under your palm, almost as erratic as your own.

were you really just upset over someone else?

every relationship you’d been sad over suddenly didn’t seem to make sense anymore. not when touya’s right here, lips locked with yours and telling you more with his kiss than you’ve ever heard from his words.

by the time you pull away, both of you are breathless, his hand on your cheek, lips softly brushing over your own like he can’t bear to be away even for just a second. you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, half overwhelmed and half confused.

“fuck, did we really just—”

“shh,” you hush him, putting a finger on his lips, suddenly embarrassed. your foreheads are still pressed together, and you can’t see it but he’s admiring your face, holding himself back from just kissing you even more.

touya moves your finger away. he whispers your name in the most gentle tone you’ve ever heard, “does that mean you feel the same?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, tongue-tied and still straddling your best friend on the couch. you’re just a single impulsive action away from going all the way.

dangerous.

pulling back even further, you’re about to make a break for your bedroom when touya pulls you back, making sure you face him.

“no running this time,” he tells you, voice raspy and his eyes flicking from your eyes to your nose and your lips but mostly your lips. “i want you,” he whispers, and the minute you lock gazes, the answer has never been more clear to you.

“i want you too, touya,” you answer, both excited and afraid but he never lets you harp on things too much because he’s already kissing you silly, barely letting you breathe—you don’t have to guess with him; he wants you so desperately you can feel it in his actions.

“touya, we should stop,” you whine, knowing that this might be going way too quick yet you want it all the same.

touya shakes his head, big hands slipping under your shirt and squeezing your waist. “no, don’t wanna stop,” he whispers into your mouth.

he’s about to pull your shirt over your head when the loud shrill of his phone interrupts. he would’ve tossed it to the side if you hadn’t taken it and insisted he should take it. it’s from shoto, after all. (he doesn’t call often, it’s a complicated relationship.)

grumbling, touya leans back, keeping your thighs in place so you can’t move away. he’s smirking at you as he answers, “shoto, what is it?”

you can’t hear his brother over the phone. you can only guess snippets of the conversation from touya’s end.

“huh.”

“what for?”

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.”

when he finally puts it down, he pulls you close by the chin, a glint of mischief in his grin. “get ready, doll.”

“huh? for what?”

touya gives you a peck on the lips. “family’s visiting, a surprise or whatever. they’re already in the city.”

you blink, praying he’s not being serious and wishing it’s not what you’re thinking. “okay, have fun!”

“and where do you think you’re going?” touya laughs, pulling you back down after you barely got back up.

“go spend some time with them, it’ll be fun.”

“oh i’m sure it’ll be fun,” he smirks, typing something into his phone and sending the message before you can sneak a peek.

you’re almost too scared to ask. but you do. “and why’s that?”

touya chuckles, thinking you’re way too stubborn, playing dumb even if it’ll kill you. but he guesses it’s fine if he has to spell it out for you. “because i wanna re-introduce you.”

“wait, what do you mean?”

with a gentle smile and a poke on your forehead, he looks you in the eyes. “i’m gonna introduce them to my future wife.”

[ikeubaekgu]

ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE EATING PUSSYYYYY

first work guys!! support pleaseee <3333

HEESEUNG | is a weak man when it comes to your pleasure. he would do anything in his power to hear your pretty sounds, he will do anything to see you writhe and shake underneath his weight, so gorgeous for him when your eyes roll all the way in the back of your skull and your plump lips part in pleasure when he’s working his magic on you. so don’t be surprised when he wants you to enjoy the sight too! getting you on your knees and facing a mirror as he spreads your ass cheeks open, relishing in the way your greedy little cunt clenches even without him doing anything to it. loving the way your body jumps forward slightly when he spits on your hole before completely digging in, hot tongue relentlessly fucking into your heat. he would be so messy, a mix of his spit and your juices just running down his chin and getting all over his sheets. he’d be grunting in pleasure and mumbling against your cunt to keep your eyes on yourself baby, literally working himself up by just thinking about how gorgeous you must look as you get near your orgasm. he gets so needy for your release he grabs your hips and fucks you back on his tongue, so harshly and fast your arms just collapse because it feels too good. poor little thing, your face smushed against his sheets as you get all your pretty makeup and drool on it, hee turning you into a dumb little slut with his tongue only.

JAY | always loves to eat you out, but he enjoys doing it particularly when you’re tired or you’ve had a rough day. he loves pampering and taking care of you, and it’s no different when he lays back and urges you to get on top of him with that signature lopsided smirk of his. he’s so gentle when he slides his hands all over your thighs and ass, caressing them with such care, his eyes glimmering as he encourages you to fully sit on him, to let him take care of you, angel girl. his movements would be so slow, agonizingly so. he wants you to just put all your weight on him and relax, let him worship you like the goddess you are in his mind. he’d keep his eyes closed, savoring every single moment too as he slides his tongue along your slit, gently circling your clit a few times and humping the air when he feels just how responsive you are to his touch, no matter how slight. totally slides his hands up to your lower back and hips, the contrast between his rough hands but careful grip sending shivers through your entire body, especially when he parts from your heat for a second to just whisper how much he loves you, how much he loves this cunt and how good you taste, before diving back in and rocking your body back on forth on his tongue until you make a mess all over his mouth.

JAKE | is so fucking nasty. he would spend every waking hour between your thighs if he could, and he does try. it gets to a point where sometimes you feel a little bad, you want to return the favor but everytime he just asks for you to just let him eat your cunt once more? you don’t seem to get that he does this for his pleasure too. he just loves your pussy and her taste so bad.

still, you also want to pleasure him. so why not suck his cock while he eats you out? the best of both worlds! and he becomes absolutely obsessed with it. just shamelessly thrusting his hips up into your mouth as he groans and moans and pants against your wet hole. he’s just so happy you let him eat you out as much as he wants now. he loves sucking on your clit, making downright obscene sounds, while fingering your cunt open with his thick and long digits, always challenging you to fit more and more. you’re so drenched sometimes he thinks he could fit his whole hand inside you. would literally hold your legs around his face after you come, because it’s still not enough. so into overstimulating the shit out of you, to the point you’re not even really sucking his cock anymore but doing something closer to gagging on it as he fucks your mouth. don't even think about squirting in his mouth because he will fuck it back inside you and try to get you to do that again. just insatiable.

SUNGHOON | is a lot more meticulous when he’s stressed or irritated. he likes to use every single toy he can think of on you, especially when he’s eating you out. there’s vulnerability in letting someone else pleasure you like that, and he loves to make sure you never forget that. making you hold your own legs so you’re bent all nicely for him, giving him the freedom of doing absolutely anything he wants to you. his bushy eyebrows furrowed as he keeps his eyes on your tits, your pretty clit delicious in his mouth as he sucks on it while slowly inching one of your dildos inside your hole. because of course, you think you’re so slick owning all of this nasty shit. well he can use that better too, he just knows your body so well. slowly teasing the toy in like he would his own tip, making you beg just for some stupid plaything like you would for his thick cock. and if you did anything to make him mad like the slutty brat you are, don’t even think about letting your legs go for even a second, no matter how good his mouth feels. because he will stop and strip your peak right under you. opting instead to land repeated slaps right on your clit, telling you that’s all you’ll get, cum like this and show him you're sorry, show him how good you are. and you do. you squirt around nothing, soaking your own hands that are still holding your thighs open, tight little hole convulsing like it’s begging for anything to fill it up. and while hoon is finally calming down and going back to your usually loving boyfriend, he thinks he just might give it something for real this time.

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: NSFW, derogatory dirty talk, spanking, angsty but with a fluffy ending

♡ fem reader

You hadn’t fucked in a while. 

Katsuki would come home late – where being an intern only landed him with shit patrols and shit hours and shit pay – leaving him in a foul mood almost constantly.

You'd put on your most supportive charm and try your best to cater to his needs – being the designated one going grocery shopping and the one to do the laundry as well as clean the house, take the trash out, and make the bed – making sure he’s got nothing to worry about when he comes home. 

You don’t really care if it doesn’t align with the rules of feminism – you doll yourself up for him and wear only nice things – making dinner the way you know he likes, with extra spice – asking him about his day.

Being the best, most perfect housewife you could be.

But like always... he's tired and replies only in grunts with a sour scowl on his face – doing his routines seemingly on autopilot – eating, showering, going to bed – leaving you alone in the dark with the dishes.

You sighed, boxing up the leftovers before packing him a lunchbox for work. Tying a handkerchief around it to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally spill in his bag, also so he had something to wipe his mouth with after finishing – and as you centered the corners, knotting them together into a neat little flower, you couldn’t help how your hands began to shake followed shortly but tears slipping down your cheeks.

You slid down the kitchen counter into a thud on the floor, pressing your sleeve over your mouth to try and muffle the small cries that soon spilled over. You don’t want to wake him up. You don’t want him to see you like this. He works too hard; he shouldn’t be bothered by his girlfriend breaking down over nothing.

You just miss him – you miss him so much your whole body aches – even though he’s right there in the next room. You clenched a fist over your heart, feeling it strangle itself inside your ribcage – making your throat seize up, dry where you choked down sobs. 

You thought today would be the day. You’d gotten yourself extra ready. Wearing the dress he likes, even the lingerie he likes – not that he’d be able to tell without undressing you first.

You banged your head softly against the cupboards behind you, eyes closed as you calmed down your weeping. Still, you kept your sleeve pressed against your mouth, scared to let even your snivels reach him.

The hand covering your heart dropped into your lap. 

You let out a sigh, then thought about his big hands – imagining them – strong and sturdy and warm on your skin – roaming your body in greedy touches. How he manhandles you with his lips pressed against your ear – speaking filth in that awfully low teasing rust of his.

Your hand slipped between your thighs – under your skirt and beneath your panties – with two slim fingers sliding between your lips to gather the needy slick that had pooled there before bringing it up to rub your pearl.

You bit your sleeve, wanting to moan but needing to stay quiet. You can’t let him find you like this. You can’t wake him up over something so unimportant, not to mention embarrassing.

You’re so pathetic. It stung your heart, but still, you kept your fingers working – drawing wet circles into your clit that had become a hard bud under the attention it had been seeking for so long. 

You don’t often touch yourself. You just leave it to Katsuki. Your hands are so different it’s nearly impossible to even imagine it’s him – and besides, he does it differently – a specific way you struggle to replicate. Suppose he's gotten to know your body a little better than you over the years.

Still, you get there. Albeit a numb and rather boring high, you still shook as it took you. Though, it didn’t come close to how Katsuki makes you feel.

You just end up feeling ashamed…

Crying and cumming on the kitchen floor while your boyfriend’s in the other room fast asleep after a hard day's work. 

You freed your mouth from your sleeve and pulled your other hand out from inside your panties, laying them both in your lap as you mulled it all over. It’s cold and silent and dark, and you wish you’d just rushed along and gone to bed with Katsuki when he’d muttered his goodnight.

You banged your head once again, then picked yourself up from the floor a moment later, releasing a sigh that turned into a yawn while dragging your feet quietly across the floor. You put the lunchbox in his bag before walking yourself to the bathroom. There, you splashed cold water on your face, looking your reflection dead in the eyes. You’d made yourself so pretty today, but he hadn’t touched you at all… he’d barely even looked at you…

You almost cried again but managed to suppress it – washing your face free of mascara and lipstick, then brushing your teeth. You slipped out of your dress and fished one of his worn shirts from the laundry bin. It smelled sweetly musky, like him – fitting you like a tent, reaching longer down your thighs than most of your skirts. It felt nice. You could almost trick yourself into thinking it was him who’d made you cum earlier and not yourself – and that delusion itself was enough to make your chest flutter with warmth. 

You snuck into the bedroom and quietly shut the door with a soft click before sneaking under the covers on your side of the bed. He was already asleep. Deep breaths left him steadily while you studied his back in the dim light. He was tense. Maybe you could give him a backrub tomorrow – and maybe he’d fuck you in return?

One can dream…

The thought put a small smile on your face as you soon followed in sleep yourself.

.

He took out the lunchbox you’d made for him, wrapped in a silly handkerchief with a Pomeranian print. His lip quirked up for just a second. You’re such a dumbass. 

He and Eijirou had picked a tall place like usual – atop an office building with their legs dangling over the edge. It had become standard procedure.

They didn’t like being bothered during lunch – it prevented them from talking about the things they wanted to talk about, if and when they wanted to talk, and otherwise roped them into meaningless small talk they had no interest in. Eijirou could fake it when he had to, but Katsuki didn’t ever feel as inclined. So it was best for both of them to find someplace exclusive.

Which, more often than not, ended up with them atop a rooftop somewhere along their route.

Katsuki popped the lid and found your note. 

Burn it up, Boo!

You’re such a geek. You’re so silly it made him blush sitting there. 

Fuck... he misses you...

His nose stung a bit just thinking about it, but he stifled it with a sharp sniffle before it could get any worse.

Unclenching his teeth with a huff, he picked up his food before chomping down on it. How long had it been since he’d held you? Must be since he started his internship, which is what? A month ago already?

He couldn’t wait to run his own agency. He’d own a building just like the one they're sitting on right now – maybe even taller. You could work there as well – you already act as his personal assistant, after all – or maybe that’s just what a girlfriend does. Either way, if you would work with him, he wouldn’t need to miss you so fucking much all the fucking time.

“Mina told me to tell you something- but you need to promise you won’t tell your girl that my girl ratted. Okay?” Kirishima broke through his daydreams. He was holding a sandwich from the cafeteria. Looks like Mina didn’t pack him lunch, Katsuki thought with a small smug smirk. Poor loser. 

“What are you blabbing on about now, Shitty-hair?” He asked, taking another bite from his homemade lunch with pride. It couldn’t really get any better than you. Surviving the last few months of his internship wouldn’t be too exhausting with you as his cheerleader.

“Mina told me-” Eijirou started anew but broke himself off before finishing. “Ah fuck it– doesn’t matter. Just listen.” 

 “I am. Spit it out already.” Katsuki said, unfazed. Not much could annoy him when he was busy thinking about you.

Eijirou hesitated for a moment longer, unsure how he should phrase it. But if memory served him right, blunt honesty had always been rewarded with the impatient ash-blonde – so he decided to be straightforward with it. “Your girl’s gonna leave you if you don’t dick her down soon.” 

That got his attention.

“The fuck?” Katsuki barked, whipping his head to the side to glare at him – unchewed food still in his mouth, making his words come out muffled.

He had his mask lifted like a headband, pushing his hair out of the way and allowing Eijirou to see every angry furrow creasing his face.

“Don’t shoot the messenger-” He excused, arms raised with his half-eaten sandwich in his hand. “I’m just tryna help you out.”

Katsuki’s grimace didn’t ease up.

It looked like he was going to say something, but instead, there came a long pause of them just staring intensely at each other.

It was normal. Katsuki had become better at processing things quietly without the need to fling curse words. But still, the frown didn’t lift – only deepened.

“Tch-” He scoffed after a while – looking down at his lunchbox again – fingering the happy Pomeranian handkerchief quietly before muttering, now calmly. “Fuck does Pinkie know…”

Eijirou put his hands down again, turning to look at the city below them, taking another bite of his sandwich – speaking with it in his mouth. “Uhm- she says it’s been a while since the two of you fucked- and that your girl’s trying her best to keep you happy- mh- but that she’s at her wit’s end ‘cause you won’t talk or touch her-”

Katsuki’s frown softened a bit, eyes scanning your handwritten note again. It’s such a small thing, but without it, the day would have still been grey and sour. It was just a piece of paper, but it had felt like a warm kiss on the cheek and turned his mood from annoyed to giddy so seamlessly.

Losing you might just kill him, he thought.

A weak “Fuck-” left him then, along with a sigh. The feeling of dread ripping his chest was nearly enough to make him cry, but he clenched his fists and grit his teeth, and the sting in his eyes relented almost as quickly as it had come.

“That’s girls for you, man...” Eijirou continued. “Talking out their frustrations over coffee and cakes instead of throwing fits.” He laughed, turning his head to look at his unusually still and silent friend. Grinning at the sight of the cute pout that had taken shape on his face. “We could learn a thing or two.” He nudged suggestively.

Katsuki threw him a glance, spotting his shark teeth pulled into a friendly smile. He sighed again, this time with a bit of a bothered groan, knowing that was Eijirou’s way of telling him to open up.

“Not much to complain about…” Katsuki mumbled in an effort to brush the subject off. But the feeling of Eijirou’s round red eyes staring at him intently in wait – goading him into telling more – didn’t relent.

Katsuki wanted to ignore him, but at the same time, there was something inside him that told him he shouldn’t waste the opportunity. In the end, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to share. After all, Eijirou had been beside him for over a decade already, and they weren’t planning on ending their camaraderie any time soon. 

He smacked his teeth as though surrendering, offering yet another groan of annoyance. “If she wants me to fuck her, she should just fucking say so-” He spilled. “What am I supposed to do? Read her mind?”

Eijirou laughed again, shaking his head. “Nah, man- this is a proper lady we’re talking about. She’s not gonna be so brazen. She wants her ~man~ to make those demands.” He explained, keeping his smile before quirking his brow at the blonde. “Speaking of… why haven't you?”

Katsuki threw him another glance, but he couldn’t feel more awkward sharing such things, even after such long years of friendship. 

Not that Eijirou cared if he was a little rigid. Actually, he found it amusing. Katsuki just needs a little time, but sooner or later, he always cracks. It’s just lucky that Eijirou has the endurance for it.

“I haven't been ‘cause-” Katsuki started, visibly struggling. “I don’t wanna be too-” He stopped again.

“What?” Eijirou pushed, slanting his head.

The blonde threw his head back with yet another groan. “She’s all up and down the house doing chores- I didn’t wanna be a selfish prick asking her to put out as well.”

“Wow, man…” Eijirou chuckled, smacking his hand down on the explosion hero's slumped shoulder. “That’s so manly.” He praised.

But it didn’t take long before his smile turned a little sharper – now with not-so-altruistic intent.

“But uhm…” He snickered. “If not your girl... what have you been doing?”

“None of your fuckin’ business,” Katsuki snapped back with a growl, shaking the makeshift redhead’s hand off his shoulder – his scowl returning to its original glory.

“Oh, come on, man- give us a little something to laugh about~” Ejirou drawled, still with his playful smirk – eagerly waiting.

Katsuki brooded for a moment longer.

But then finally gave in. “The shower… sometimes the car…”

Eijirou laughed, now loudly – boisterously and long enough to make the blonde punch his shoulder. But the assault wasn’t even registered by the sturdy hero, who continued laughing until he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “That’s not manly.” He said, still with amusement in his voice. “That’s just sad, man.”

“Shut up,” Katsuki grumbled in return, refocusing on his lunch as the other male continued giggling.

“To think you’ve been holding back while your girl’s been pining for it.” Eijirou rubbed salt in the wound, adding insult to injury, before stuffing the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. “Mh- that’s why communication is key.” 

Katsuki also took his last bite before repeating his last words. “Shut up, Shitty-hair...”

.

He came home to the smell of cooking and the hefty sound of the kitchen fan. The door swung closed with a loud bang, and you soon walked around the corner – spatula in hand with your apron on.

“You’re home early!” You exclaimed, a smile spreading on your face while rushing over to him. Lifting your heels on your toes to plant a quick kiss on his chin. “Oh-” You gasped, surprised when he enveloped you in a hug instead.

Stunned still for a moment, but then you smiled.

“Welcome home~”

He sighed into you, big hands pressed at the small of your back, swaying you snugly against him – the spatula in your hand smushed between you.

You smelled like sweets, and he smelled of smoke, and you both closed your eyes at the familiar but almost forgotten scent – bodies relaxing, realizing how much they’d missed the other's touch.

He held you there for a while, nuzzling his face into your neck with a low rumble – almost like the purr of a cat – before letting you down slowly.

“Is everything alright?” You asked, looking up at him.

He kept his hands at your sides for a moment longer, his usual unreadable expression donning his face. “Not really.” He revealed, then pressed a kiss onto your forehead. “Talk about it later, I’m starving.”

You wanted to ask but didn’t want to pry – trusting him that you’d talk about it later.

He set the table while you finished cooking, and you thought it a very nice change of pace – smiling with a giggle when he pulled out your chair for you. He was acting strange, but still, you wouldn’t complain.

Dinner went quietly. You kept waiting for him to talk, to tell you what it was that was bothering him, but he never did. You were both done not before long, and you got up to start collecting dishes.

He got up as well. Walking around the table, he stood behind you as he grabbed your wrist softly. “Leave it.” He said – his voice gentle, just above a whisper. 

“Katsuki?” You asked, before feeling it – gasping out a surprised “Oh-”

His hand rubbed the silk on your hip, messaging your skin through your dress as he pulled you back against his crotch, where you felt him – fat in his slacks – and nudging into the soft welcome of your butt.

Your chest fluttered with a giddy thrill, flustered and hot already.

“Right now?” You asked in a flushed rush. Bowed with both palms laid flat on the table – cheeks burning and eyes wide. 

“Yes.” He replied simply – voice still gentle but sturdy – perhaps a touch strained.

“Here?” You gushed, swallowing your spit.

“Yes.” He repeated, his lips hot on your throat, with kisses and licks and heavy huffs – his chest stiff and weighty with brawn, beating against your back where he haunched over you.

Your breath warbled, rendering your voice to just an unsteady whisper. “Oh- okay-”

He hoisted the skirt of your dress in quick tugs, bunching it over your hips before molding his clothed bulge neatly into your ass – squeezing your hips and pulling you back to meet his movements as he started rolling into you with need.

You let him – waiting with knees somewhat shakey. It had been so long since you’d last felt his lust for you that now it made you nervous. Your cunt was already weeping at the promise – so wet you soaked through your panties. Even your mouth had pooled with water, desperate for what was to come.

You closed your eyes, listening to him buckling up his belt, followed by the heavy sounds of his pants dropping to the floor – then the warm feel of his hefty manhood resting between your asscheeks. You moaned just at the feel of it. Veiny and warm and soft. Your breaths turned even thicker in your throat – so excited you nearly started wagging your butt to urge him into taking your panties off.

He did. Hooking his fingers beneath the lace, he pulled it down your thighs and knees and let it pool around your feet – giving your ass a wet bite on his way up again.

His fingers then found your puffy cunt, giving it a featherlight feel and releasing a strained grunt at the drippy mess discovered there – bathing his fingertips in your arousal. You heard him swallow thickly at your ear – his breath baring hints of something heavier from his gut – almost heaving as he grabbed his shaft and slid himself down through your thighs.

You nearly started whining boohoos, feeling his girth glide between the fat of your inner thighs, glossing itself in the slick from your cunt. Your insides screamed for it. It was all too sadistic for you to handle – you needed to push back into him – a wanton whimper escaping you even as you had your lip tugged between your teeth.

He answered the prayer, his movements controlled yet strained as he steadily guided it between the split of your pussylips until his head caught on your entrance. He hissed, pressing inside you without any prepping – and you sucked in a gasp, stinging at the stretch, taking the fat mushroom-shaped bulb inside you slowly – so overwhelmed your vision blurred with spotted light. 

Then you released the prettiest moan – whole body tense with anticipation as he eased the fat length all the way inside your pretty cunt – filling it so good, your thighs quaked with curled toes, sinking your teeth into your lip with eyes squished tightly shut – sighing with a needy whimper once his head nudged deep into your cervix.

You and your body both had forgotten his size. Feeling tunneled. You nearly had the urge to climb away as it rested inside you – every meaty inch stretching you out – but he held you steady at the hips, keeping you still as he nestled deep and completely within your walls – making you pant out like a needy bitch in heat. In the end, you couldn’t do much more than curl your toes into the carpet, eyes flickering with arms nearly giving out beneath you.

You didn’t expect the slap to your ass. “Ah- Katsuki-” You yelped with a buck, clenching down even harder around him.

He gritted his teeth at your pretty cry and did it again – planting his hand down hard into the doughy flesh. Pulling back with his hips and thrusting in again.

You clawed the table, picking up the tablecloth in balled hands – struggling to make breaths – insides fluttering and wavering between the delight of finally being filled and the flighty dread of being split in two – crying at the pain, being stretched so awfully good.

He smacked you again, and this time, you whimpered, reeling from the pain of it – feeling the skin sting and prickle – hot beneath the squeeze he made after, gripping the fat like putty. 

“Katsu- s’too rough-” You cried, shaking on his shaft – but also from the pleasure – feeling your head cloudy and hot where your brows cinched up.

He ignored your cry, giving it another hit with his palm. Backing up until only his tip remained inside, then running you through again – pelvis clapping your rear. So deep it choked you, making your tongue loll out of your mouth with your moans. So robbing, you needed to bow down until your tits rested on the table to avoid your arms giving out beneath you – panting as you held onto the feel of his every inch sliding in and out of you. Fucking you so well, you drooled.

“What's this I hear about you leavin’ me, huh?”

A cold rush flushed your body then.

The burn of pleasure suddenly went tense – still there, but vulnerable now. Your heart flared, beating fast – so loud you heard it in your head.

You weren’t able to answer before he’d snuck a hand up your chest and grabbed your throat, lifting you from the table and pressing you back against his chest where his lips could graze the shell of your ear. “I had a lil’ chat with Eijirou earlier. Care to know what he said?” He whispered now, feeling your breath turn thin beneath his hand. 

He held you tight, fingers sinking into your jugular – but more so in threat – not rough enough to choke you. 

Still, it made you squeeze on him harder. 

He didn’t wait for an answer. “He told me that Mina told him that you’ve been having ditzy thoughts about ending things… That true?”

“N-no- that’s not what I said-” You denied with a stutter – chest tight with a need to moan out, feeling the plush bulge of his cock-head knead into your cervix – making a mean outline on your tummy – burrowed so deep it made your thighs shake at the pressure – feeling the onslaught of that tightknit rope within your core begin to fray, soon to snap and let go.

“It's so like you.” He accused coldly, making another harsh thrust into you – cock punching your stomach in the perfect spot. “To go run your mouth with no plans of backing any of it up.”

“B-but I-” You didn’t have your wits with you to defend yourself – busy rubbing your thighs together, chasing the sweet release you felt pursuing.

“Buh-buh-but nothing.” He dismissed – his other hand making way down past your belly button, his fingers soon running over your clit – beginning to rub tight and slow circles into it – making your moans spill past where his hand kept your throat in a lock. “If you wanted me that badly, you should have just asked. But I guess that’s too much for you, isn’t it? You’re just too innocent, aren’t yah?”

You were nearly there until he spun you around. Quickly gathering your thighs, he picked you up and made you straddle him – pushing your back against the wall with a bang that almost had the pictures falling down.

You only moaned, going dumb from the thrill, wrapping your legs around his torso as he sunk back inside you. 

“I don’t buy it, sweetheart. Be honest now-” He breathed with a grunt, pressing his forehead against yours, and you slung your arms around his neck. “You’ve been touching yourself without me, haven't you?”

You bit your lip under his interrogating glare, looking into his red eyes through your lashes only to look away – flighty with a tiny whimper before squeaking out a hesitant but honest, “Ye-yes-”

“When?” He pushed with a hiss – wasting no time.

You burned with embarrassment – fingernails denting the swole and sweaty muscles of his back, feeling him dig inside you so deep and hard and fast you couldn’t help but spill with the confession. “Yesterday- after dinner- when you were sleeping-”

“Where?” He added, clenching his jaw at the shy way you nibbled your lip, telling him all your dirty secrets while pinned against the wall, taking him inside your tight wet cunt with such a face that just coaxed him into going harder and faster.

“H-here, on the floor-” You answered, moaning it for him with your breath in your throat.

“Tch-” He scoffed with a groan and a grin – feeling you clench on him, recognizing your mannerisms – you were getting close. “I didn’t know I was living with a little slut.” 

“I’m not-” You protested with a whine – giving him the cutest pouty face he’d ever seen.

“Don’t lie.” He barked, slamming into you – making you squeal with a moan, fingers pulling the locks at his nape while clenching on him tight – your breath shuddered, stomach tightening up like a knot before suddenly snapping. He chuckled hotly, feeling you shake from it. “Don’t you fuckin’ try it when you’re cummin’ on my cock like that-”

His lips mushed yours with another groan while you moaned from the release. He gripped your ass tighter, pulling you to meet his rhythm, riding it out of you – biting your lip to finish the kiss. 

“Be honest-” He seethed, his voice tight – low and gravelly, thick with arousal. “Where do you want it?”

You quaked at the question, head full of cotton from your orgasm. You looked at him with hearts in your eyes. “Inside me, please, Katsuki~”

“Fuck-” He stuttered – that was the last he could handle before burying himself deep – gripping you tight and keeping you snug against him as he emptied himself with hips jutting – pressing you firmly against the wall behind you.

He kept you there, forehead to forehead, holding his breath down to the very last drop – then let out a long and relieved sigh. But still, he held you there – with sweat running down his temple as he huffed air until both your breathing calmed down. And even then, he didn’t let go.

Instead, he carried you off toward the bedroom – leisurely in his steps as your legs dangled over his arms before placing you both down in the soft bed.

He helped you out of your dress, shimmying it off over your head with your hands lazily raised in the air – then he tore his own shirt off over his shoulders, flexing his back with a stretch and groggy yawn before laying down with a complete sigh. 

Throwing an arm over your midriff, heavy and thick with muscles – his hand splayed on the small of your back – holding you snugly – limbs tangled together with your heads propped on the same pillow.

“Next time you’re thinking about touching yourself when I’m asleep, just wake me up.” He grumbled, his eyes already closed. 

You gave a breathy giggle, murmuring an “Okay~” with a smile. Looking at his face and the cute blush dusting his cheeks with dew.

He had that small scrunch between his brows like always, twisting his handsome face into something so adorably moody even in his sleep. 

His warm breath puffed slow and steady against your face – dewy from his slightly parted mouth.

“Katsuki?” You whispered after a while, tapping your finger on his peck with a soft bite to your lip. 

He opened his eyes, sleepy but awake still – blinded by your wide-awake eyes eagerly staring back at him.

“One more time?”

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