#how are little kids so Sticky at all times

[umathurwin]

i still keep your number and your necklace

kiara carrera x rafe cameron; nsfw 18+

summary: Rafe pays Kiara a little visit at the surf shop when she's alone. Surely he won't have any ulterior motives, right?

tags, warnings, and more on ao3 !

“what are you doing here?”

no greeting, no niceties, nothing. rafe hadn’t exactly caught her at a great time, given the screen of texts between kie and her boyfriend was just a sea of blue now. even without that, she probably still would’ve had an attitude.

“damn, kid, i can’t come to shop? i can’t be a paying customer?” he mocked, fiddling with the displays and knocking over a pack of neon lures. he ignored the mess.

kiara didn’t give him a response, and he conceded. “fine. just wanted to stop by and say hello, is all.”

“so say it. then leave.”

rafe hissed, like he’d just touched a hot stove. “sweetheart, what’d i do to deserve this treatment?” he asked, pouting at her and walking around the counter.

his cologne reached her first and she had to shut her eyes to keep focus. as he slotted himself behind her, surely towering over her frame, her fingers wrapped around the bone-handled damascus that john b had given her for protection against wacky customers. and what better time than now?

he’s a little too perceptive for her, though. “my god, drop the knife. i’m not here to hurt you.” when the blade clattered to the ground, he smiled. “actually, i’m here for the opposite.”

oh, great. not again.

of course this wasn’t the first time he was paying one of these little sick visits. actually, she’d noticed a bit of a pattern of her dating a new man, and rafe quickly showing up to re-stake his claim on her body.

the first few times, it had been a typical bedroom-window tryst with him climbing into her sheets and folding her legs up to her ears, her biting her fist and trying to remain quiet. later it evolved into him dragging her to the backseat of his car at events and him cracking jokes about how obvious what they were doing was, and how neither of them must care. now, apparently, he’s evolved to showing up at her place of business in broad daylight.

“rafe, you know i can’t—”

“can’t? bullshit. you sure can,” he barked out a laugh before mocking her again. “can’t. that’s funny. what’s stopping you, exactly? and don’t tell me that pissant blonde you’ve been running around with. do you always pick boyfriends whose asses you know i could beat? is there some kind of thrill behind it?”

kiara squeezed her eyes shut, fingertips digging into the pressboard surface of the counter. her body betrayed her, the same way it always did when rafe got his hands on her, and she keeled back into his touch. “rafe… c’mon.”

“what?” he snapped, holding her hips tighter and grinding against her. his cock slotted against her a little too well and she had to bite back a whimper. “you afraid someone’s gonna come lookin’ for us? don’t wanna get caught with your pants down?”

“yes! i mean, no!”

“don’t even know what you want. poor girl,” he tutted. rafe took one hand and drifted it up her side, catching on the bottom hem of her shirt and lifting it a bit before it fell. no chance he didn’t feel the goosebumps on her skin as he trailed up her arm to her shoulder.

there’s a quick moment of relief when she felt him step back and his presence was replaced by a wave of humid air. too bad this was because he’d decided to kneel down, perfectly settling where his face was at eye level with her ass.

she could feel her face burning as he inspected her, gripping the soft flesh and pushing his thumb hard on the denim seam resting above her slit. her legs were starting to buckle and her head fell into her hands ashamedly.

he tugged her shorts down, catching her underwear and pulling those down too. rafe smiled when he was greeted with the familiar sight of her sticky, wet cunt. “goddamn, kie. d’this start the second i walked in here?”

“no!” she whined, but it was less a response to his question and more of a protesting squeal when he buried his face into her pussy. he dragged his tongue along her folds, adding drool to the slick mess.

kiara gasped, and her fingernails caught on the rough surface under her. her back arched and she had to fight not to reach back and grab rafe’s head to guide him.

(not that he needed much guiding, anyways. he’s had his tongue buried in this cunt so many times he’s confident he could make her cum in his sleep.)

as he lapped at her clit, she dropped the hesitant act and grinded back against his face. rafe grabbed the back of her thighs and she could feel him smiling into her pussy. nasty.

his angle could be better. she began to lift her leg to give him more room, but her dignity had her dropping her foot to the ground again.

once again, too perceptive. he grabbed her calf roughly and lifted her entire leg until her knee could rest on the counter’s edge. if she’d been modest before, she couldn’t be anymore with her dripping cunt right on display for him.

no time to feel bad about this, because he dove right back into eating her cunt. one of his fingers trailed near her ass and she let out a weak noise, so he pulled back. he must be playing nice today.

it wasn’t until she was riding out a powerful orgasm on his tongue that she realized how lucky it was their shop had no cameras. it wasn’t the safest set-up, but at least she was in the clear still.

he tugged her back to the ground, making her stand on wobbly legs. as rafe’s cock pressed against her slit, the illumination of her phone screen caught her eye. jj had responded, finally.

oh, right! what she was currently doing was bad. “fuck, please hurry, you have to leave soon—” she mewled. as he pushed inside her, rafe’s thumbs spread her open so he could sheath himself even easier.

“jesus, quit whining, will ya? i just made you cum, now it’s my turn. shut up or i’ll fuck you right on this floor.”

he’d do it, too. he’d bully her to the ground until her palms and knees were slipping on the disgusting surface below them. he’d belittle her for how she was still enjoying the degradation. he might even grab the back of her hair and push her all the way down until her cheek grazes the floor, too. he’d do all this and so much more, so she shut up.

then he was fully nested inside her. like always, the clock slowed and blood rushed in her ears. relaxing enough to let him in was one thing, bracing herself for what came next was another.

“mm, fuck, you feel that? well… you’re pulsing around me, so i guess you do. isn’t that divine? yknow i’d stay in here all day if i could.” rafe withdrew about halfway, then slowly pushed back in to the hilt. “if you’d let me. i know you miss this. feeling so full,” he thrusted a bit, just to fit the last of himself inside her, and she cried out. “feels the same as the last time. which says a lot.” when a slutty moan spilled out of her, he knew he’d won. he pulled out again, but this was the end of his mercy.

the trinkets on the counter were rattling as he fucked her, and he wouldn’t allow her head to fall with a firm grip on her curls.

“how about i make a little deal with you?” he asked, forcing his cock in so far he nudged against her cervix.

kiara cried out and sucked in a gasp. “w-what?”

“if you don’t cum while i finish up here, i’ll never bother you again.”

too much logic, too little brains left in her skull. “you… you’ll wh—?”

“dumb girl,” he muttered and thrusted again. “i know you’re too drunk on my own cock to think, but try to follow along.” rafe slowed to a pace which tortured her, dragging along her walls enough to spark pleasure but not enough to build. “don’t cum, and i’ll leave you alone. got it?”

she nodded desperately, as best she could with him still holding her hair.

around this time, he’d get mouthy. rafe never could keep his thoughts to himself and the problem was tenfold when he was buried inside kiara. if it had come from anyone else’s mouth, his words would be pathetic, begging. but from him? he taunts.

when are you just gonna admit you need this, huh? i come back every time and you’re just as fuckin’ eager. it’s like you know i own you, but you can’t accept it. you know how good you’d look with me again? yknow how well i’d take care of you? be the prettiest fuckin’ girl on figure eight. it’s all yours, but you keep being a brat. good thing i’m always around to keep you in line, huh?

not this time. now, he was dead quiet, and the sick noises coming from where they met spoke for him. forced to accept the loud reality of what they were doing in the very place kiara would have to come back to every day.

without thinking, one of her hands tried to reach down to play with her clit, but he caught her wrist and twisted it around to pin behind her back. she was still stimulated, as every thrust of his cock sent his balls hitting against her clit. “good try,” was all he muttered.

tears welled up in her eyes when she realized she was going to cum anyways. he’d even tried to make it a fair fight by not touching her or saying anything. she was just a doll for him, one that bent over and spread her legs and moaned and begged for more. he didn’t even have to try, and she still tensed up and trembled as a second orgasm washed through her.

her legs nearly gave out entirely as she came, shaking and twitching under her. rafe’s possessive hold on her prevented her from collapsing to the filthy ground, and he smirked. “fuckin’ A. that’s a feeling i’ll never get tired of.”

she would die before ever admitting this, but she felt much of the same.

after he came, rafe lifted kiara so her feet were no longer on the ground, and her torso was entirely on the counter. he was careful in pulling out his cock, making sure none of his seed dripped out of her aching cunt. he quickly pulled her underwear and shorts back up, sealing in the mess they’d just made together.

“guess i’ll see you tonight, huh?”

[the-kr8tor]

Hi I'm here to make everyone sad again.

Good luck. <3

(Regular spider-verse/comic Hobie)

He's been used ever since was a child to not have his needs met. His wants were even less of a problem, all he wanted was some warm food and love for once. Not beer bottles littering the floor and making it sticky with every step he'd take. He was the youngest, his sisters and brothers did try the best they could to take care of him, make sure he does his homework, forgo eating if it meant he had a little bit more of the almost non-existent portions on the dinning table.

Clothes were never new, always handmedowns that had already been fixed up too many times to count. No new toys if only once or twice in his life where he got lucky enough for some poor stranger to donate to one of the associations that pop up during Christmas time which his mother had been subscribed to.

He was never picked in class, his friends were few. Who wants to be the friend of the kid who never has anything cool in his lunchbox? The kid who wears old patched up clothes and has no new fashionable shoes or school supplies. He had one or two friends at best during his childhood, even if he was as nice as he could be to others the others weren't always as nice to him.

Getting beaten up, getting into fights, coming back home with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles. His brothers would cheer him on or tell him to quit it before it's too late. His sisters would tell him he's too grown to be doing foolish nonsense and that he should focus on studying, on getting out of here.

But studying costs money, rent is money, electricity, food, water...is all money. Everything is unfair and he could only grow more and more upset at life, at his parents, sometimes at his siblings.

Punk music was fast, angry, and unapologetic. It was where he could see himself in music form, it didn't have a name beyond punk but to him it was as if his life and soul had been melded together through the sound of guitar, drums, base and more. It was what he loved, and with that he came to the conclusion he could love himself as well. If every strange musician of the genre could be themselves without being sorry, so could he. He had already picked up guitar some time ago, and now he wouldn't quit until his fingers would bleed.

He needed it out, his emotions wanted to find a way out, carving themselves out from his flesh and guts if so need be. He had no way to truly express himself better than a few strings and lyrics. But it was a way to breathe again with every time his mom came back home with another pack of beer instead of food. It was a way he could avoid and forget his father and what he'd do. It was freedom in its own sense even if he was still held back years after years.

And then the streets. The streets are lonely, they don't offer you love or shelter. They offer you police officers who constantly "check" on you, destroy your tent and steal the little you have. The money you make is non-existent, it's enough for a coffee, maybe a cheap meal from the discount bin or just enough for a fare ride on the bus to make sure people don't complain about the fact you're loitering on public property.

Books are one friend he got the pleasure to never stop enjoying or seeing, the public library is a safe place to a certain extent. They don't mind you as long as you stay quiet and don't bother anyone. It's a place to get some sleep or to avoid boredom or the insanity that starts eating away at your brain as you realise how society doesn't want you.

Being in the streets means having little to no hygiene on the worst of days, it always pissed him off further to not have the smallest basic amenities he needed. If he had to, he'd steal them, what else could he do? It's either letting your teeth continue to rot and hurt or actually washing them. Not that it mattered, corporations didn't care about him either, so he wouldn't care for them in return.

There always was something funny about seeing someone decked out in Channel or Gucci walking past him, no, the rich ones weren't the people who gave money. The people who gave money were the single monoparental mothers, the kids who had the smallest bits of coins, the men who worked day in night out for their families, the immigrants who understood him and where he was, the college students that had a brain and a heart. That's who gave back, who wanted him to make it out another day. And even though he felt annoyed and angry to even need to beg for money, he was grateful to the ones who didn't just continue walking.

The punk community got him back up, a friend of a friend letting him crash the couch for an untold amount of time. He'd do odd jobs and what not, he'd clean around the house when he had no money to give and would steal groceries when needed be. He solely knew survival for so long so when he finally got his first place to himself it was strange, too quiet, too peaceful. It couldn't last. It would never last. Not for someone like him right?

-🪦

TW food insecurity, alcoholism. CW bullying, bad childhood

Bro... How could u? 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

*with tears in my eyes* go to your corner! You're on time out!

[artbyace]

working with kids is constantly having some kind of Mysterious Substance on you at all times

[sophieswundergarten]

Okay, but where did the kids even learn to gamble?

Kate probably was taught by her circus family, and they'd play without real money, just for fun and to mess with each other when it inevitably dissolved into wild cheating.

Sticky I'd imagine picked up a book purely for the strategy, and enjoys getting to have a certain win at a game most people think is chance because of math.

Constance picked it up some indeterminable time before she came to be with Mr. Benedict and regularly cheated people. She'd walk right up and challenge someone/invite herself to play, and now she's banned from every bar, casino, and casual game in Stonetown.

Reynie I honestly don't think has ever played before in his life. He may have read about it at some point, but he has a very loose grasp on how to practically apply it, even though he has all the rules memorized. (He probably went through a phase of learning a bunch of games in case anyone ever asked him to play.)

[tonycries]

The Family Matter?!

Synopsis. Babyfevér - it’s never felt so good.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, breéding, mentions of kids/ marriage, a LOT of creampíes, Gojo’s powers, cúmplay (like a lot), spítting, overstím, exhíbitionism (Geto’s), chokíng Nanami, pússy-slappíng, proposals, rúts (Choso), bíting, true form! Sukuna, overspill, dp, bondagé, mentions of dàddy kínk, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. To the one anon that wanted this - how did you read my mind?? Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Santa, baby…

“B-but- Christmas isn’t for another few months, Toji—”

Now, Toji has to admit - that broken, honeyed-out little drag of his name is enough to crack even that tough demeanor of his - just a bit. And it’s all he can do to calm down the raging twitch of his buried cock, driving it deeper and deeper against your mushy g-spot to shut up those dangerous moans of yours. 

“B-b-but-” You’re flinching when his deep, baritone voice pitches dramatically high to mock your own, a large palm coming down to give your poor clit a branding smack! “-but, you think that’s gonna stop me, ma?”

Stupidly, you’re whirling your dazed eyes over your shoulder to catch his, only for the calloused pads of his fingers to swiftly force your face back down. 

“Not me, you don’t get to hah- look at me just yet, doll.” Toji grits out from behind you, feverish puffs of breath sending goosebumps down your spine. Down to where your puffy cunt was just bulging with all long, solid inches of his swollen, overworked cock. Sloppy. Overspilling. “Not until you’re giving me another brat by Christmas.” 

A sob wrenches out of you when Toji jostles his sharp hips against yours. Harder, until you could feel every minute smack of his still-full, sensitive balls, every slosh of his syrupy sticky cum coating your walls from earlier. 

“Look.” 

You’re shaking your head in almost-bratty protest, the fat of your ass still pushing and pulling against his rugged thrusts. You feel like you could go insane if you saw any more. Thighs twitching to a shy close, “Ngh- can’t s’too- too much.”

This only pulls out a displeased growl from your pussydrunk boyfriend, rasping out a warning. “No fuck-  don’t you fucking dare-” Big, beefy hands wrench your legs even farther apart to admire the mess he’s made, bruising where he holds them unable to escape. “Don’t you even think of it, woman.”

It’s accompanied by another harsh slap! on your puffed-up clit, this time harder than the last. Shocking you to your heated core until you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, already-ruined cunt just clenching in painful pleasure. 

He laughs - laughs, “Instead of squeezin’ the fucking soul outta me, look here at how you’re wastin’ my cum. How can I make you a momma in time like this, huh?” 

You’re blinking away those big, fat globs of tears to finally spy back down again at your drooling cunt. Swollen folds spread shamefully, gaping. Every slam of his hips makes you gush down his achy shaft with a gloss of your sweet sweet juice and his own cum. It splays in a creamy little puddle at your silken sheets, clinging to your bodies like a second, sloppy skin. “Y-you’re so filthy, Toji.”

But Toji couldn’t bring himself to be disgusted - not one bit. In fact, he could feel the tip of his angry head growing even fatter, expanding to meld its way deep into your elastic walls.

“Filthy, huh?” he chuckles so darkly. “Got such a mouth on ya, can already tell you’re gonna be a ah- strict momma.” His fingers are prying your jaw to sag open, whispering so slow and syrupy along your open mouth, “Well, let me tell you a little secret, ma. Doesn’t matter what you call me now, because in about nine months you’ll be calling me something else.”

“And what would- mmpf!” Oh, for how much he loved your sharp mouth, he sure was well and fully intent on shutting you up. Toji’s hitting his cock at the back of your pussy, just mashing deep into your g-spot in sinful sync. Over and over. “-and what would that be?”

Another finalizing smack to your pulsing clit, so smug and messy. He tilts his head to that growing pool below you, splurging farther and farther with each decisive, feral ram. “Your baby daddy, that’s what.” 

As if on cue, you’re cumming - you can’t even remember which saccharine sweet high of the night, but all you know is Toji’s gifting your gummy cunt with a few bullying kisses on your ravaged g-spot. Rough, lingering clashes of his weepy tip on your ravaged g-spot, sending your toes curling, white-hot shocks of pleasure. Again and again and again-

“Fuck- fuuuck yeah take it.” he’s grunting out hoarsely, hips stuttering and so so feral. Barely having the sanity to pull out in his jagged half-thrusts, splitting you apart on all his weighty length to cum inside you - deep.

Painting each and every inch of your heavenly cunt that could be reached with coat after coat of velvety white - all the way from where he was gliding his fat tip across your cervix, down, down, down to your sensitive spots, your sopping wide opening. “Want- need it so bad. Need ya to make me a daddy again. So fuckin’ bad you have no idea- you’d be fuckin’ scared.”

Those mean fingers smushing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout dance down to gather the dredges of his own cum, oozing out of the corners of your slit in a milky white sheen. Still rutting into you, he suckles on them languidly like his favorite candy, “Mmpf- as sweet as ever, doll.”

“Y-you’re so fuckin’ mean, Toji-” your jaw slacks open at his lewd actions. “Our kid better not get such an- hah- an awful personality.”

That makes him pause - it makes him pull away his digits, glistening and connected with stringy ropes of the mess he’s made. Grinning for just  a split-second before shoving the entire length of his fingers into your plush mouth. 

Toji huffs cockily, the rounded tips of his fingers swirl around and around your lolling tongue, addicting you onto the slighty-salted taste. “Our daughter will be lucky to hngh- get my personality n’ your pretty looks.” And you’re barely even lucid when he’s whispering into your sweat-sheened forehead, “So you better give me good news for Christmas this year, ma.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “Take it, like a good lil’ wife.”

Your mouth is sagging open at Nanami’s uncharacteristically gritted words. So hoarse, pained - like they were dragged out of his raggedly heaving chest with each bullying ram of his hips. 

It was barely midway into the evening, and you had no clue how you ended up like this. How those fleeting little titters during your romantic at-home dinner date about kids wound up with Nanami splayed on his broad back on the soft silken sheets. Sculpted abs curving into your back when he nuzzles your neck, plowing his furiously hard cock in his favorite mean full nelson.

“Ha- you’re being so-” you’re gasping out in a wet stutter, ass grinding back onto those neat lanes of blond at his thick base. He’s spearheading you so- “-so mean, Ken.”

“Am, I?” he’s purring, a low rumbling growl from the bottom of his chest. “Well, I might be the stricter parent, that’s right.”

Rolled-up sleeves graze against your heated skin, and you could feel every ridge of the veins along his forearms when he spreads your dangling legs even wider. Jutting his hips so deeply upwards to bow your body to the throbbing curve of his dick. “But, I apologize, darling.” Neat rows of his pearly white teeth sink down on your earlobe, “Feel free to do something- anything about it. Because m’afraid I won’t be able to stop any time soon.”

It was a promise - just the clingy feeling of your walls molding and wetting according to his very shape has him losing his mind. His sanity.

Choking back a long, drawn-out groan when two thick fingers slide down to roll over your puffy clit, “Fuuuck, my love, you’re so- hngh perfect like this.” The bed creaks in protest when his powerful thighs arch even higher upwards, all those hours at the gym paying off when every frenzied mash into the bulging treasure of your g-spot makes your mouth water. He breathes into the intimate crook of your neck, “Though, I bet you’d look even prettier as a momma, right?”

Somehow, that makes your face burn more than being split apart on his relentless cock has. 

“Oh- shit.” you whine, fucking your hips back in a sloppy little staccato. Reaching your trembly arm around his strong neck, your fingers find his favorite speckled yellow tie. Yanking until Nanami’s stern lips in a syrupy sweet kiss. “Really wan’ you to hah- breed me, Ken.”

“Fuck- Oh yeah?” he gasps. And if you didn’t know any better then you’d have said that that came out as a fucking whine. The ever-stoic Nanami Kento crumbling bit by bit with each rummaging thrust to shape your gummy walls. “Then why’d it fuck- take so long. Fuck, I’ve been dreaming of this since the ah- day I met you, my girl.”

Sharp hips dig into the plush of your ass with each pivot, it’s bouncing you back and forth along his slobbering cock. So rough. So tall and angry, you’re hit with a steaming hot gush of milky precum every time Nanami’s sliding out of you up to his thick, girthy tip. 

“Been thinking about you and I- and a little one. A few, actually. One blonde with your eyes, the other two with mine and your gorgeous smile.” That sweet little admission has your twitchy fingers subconsciously dragging at the heavy fabric of his tie. Tight around Nanami’s straining neck, making his head light and cock twitch wildly to draw little patterns on your cervix. “Fuck! Fuck no- keep pullin’ like that, darling.” 

You could feel his raw length rub against sensitive sports you never even knew felt good, in sync with that wandering free-hand of his. Now dancing upwards to glide his touchy thumb over your bouncing tits. “K-Ken, m’so close.”

“How pretty these would look all full of milk, darling.” he muses, sounding more like he’s speaking to himself than anything. Your knees are buckling now, cunt eagerly taking in every powerfully pressurized thrust of his. But Nanami hasn’t had enough of his fill, feeling a burning trail down your arching body. Down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, “And here- where m’gonna fuck-” He’s cutting himself up as his hips slam up into you like with a mind of their own, “-fill you up, make you a momma. Oh, you’d be the best momma. The best.”

He’s fucking you so rough now - so jagged that you’re white-knuckling his tie, reeling him in so close. “And you’d- fuck m’gonna-” you’re sobbing now, over those drawled-out squelches from your velvety cunt. “You’d be the best da-”

You can’t finish your sentence - you couldn’t, because with a few more practiced strokes, you’re cumming all over Nanami’s massive cock. Feeling your elastic walls try to suck him up so hard you wondered whether it didn’t hurt. 

But it didn’t - it felt so sinfully good, in fact, that it was only a matter of a few blissful seconds before you’re being filled up with thick globs of his seed. Drooling out of you with each creamy rut into you, your gaping entrance only takes more. Still pounding into you, bottoming out - yet still pushing to give you everything he had to give.

“Sh-shit.” Nanami marvels at the silky ribbons of cum being stuffed inside, the way it slews up with your honeyed slick to form a glistening gloss down both your fronts. “Wait- oh, wait.” Nanami’s trembling cock spurs out a few more overflowing shots of seed at the very thought of what he was about to do. Still stuffed in, he’s reaching over to rustle through the pockets of his dress pants scattered mere inches away from the two of your slick, convulsing bodies on the bed.

You’re jolting when you feel something cold and metallic slide around your left ring finger, “Didn’t think I’d let you be the mother of my kids without a ring, did you, my wife?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Escape?

“Gorgeous…” Geto’s sultry, slow whisper sends goosebumps running down every inch of your skin. And it’s so soothing - so gentle, and yet- “-doesn’t matter how much you tug, these things won’t let you escape, m’kay?”

A wrenching sob rips from your hoarse throat, and all you can manage to do is tug on those tight, hot-pink handcuffs around your wrists. Pulling to prop your fucked-out body against the very top of his luxurious futon, “S-Sugu, you’re so mean.” Your wide eyes scan the pristine tatami room at his shrine, “Anyone could walk in-”

“And yet you’re still being such a slut, my girl.” He flashes you a rosy red grin, so blindingly pretty that it makes your cunt throb. “Still waiting f’me to breed your pretty pussy. Which would it be? The fifth now?”

Geto doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before you’re abruptly sitting upright, bottom lip wobbling with need. Your swollen pussy is just weeping beads of his cum at this point, sobbing down where he was still buried so eagerly inside your gummy walls. Your thighs shaky in- fear? Anticipation? The need for more? 

“Ah ah-” you feel two soft little smacks to the side of your cheek. “Don’t zone out on me just yet, gorgeous. S’this hah- boring for you?” And despite all the pleading shakes of your head, he only plows on, “Aww, what a shame. Guess I just hafta spice things up-”

It’s all the warning you’re getting - barely even - before your poor, weepy cunt is back to being just split apart on his fat head. Not even being eased into it, no care or concern for those overstimulated spasms when he stuffs you full. 

“F-fuck-” your eyes are shooting open - when did they even close? - at the sound of nearby footsteps in the hallway behind those sliding doors. Very nearby. “I swear someone’s gonna catch us, Sugu-”

The only sound that rings throughout his humid, heady room is your wet gag - muffled around the pale, slender fingers of his being shoved between your kiss-bitten lips. All you can register are the soft pads of his digits pressing down on the back of your taste buds and the unforgiving little pulses of his prominent veins dragging against your gummy walls. 

Leaning down - until he’s so dangerously close, until you could count every long, dark lash on his eyelids, every flex of his muscles - slosh of his syrupy sweet inside you - as he sets a languid, lazy pace. “If someone catches us then I will hngh- jus’ keep going, do not test me, pretty girl.”

The other of his splayed out fingers are drawing methodical, dizzying circles on the very tip of your sensitive clit. Matching his teasing place, every grazing nudge of his leaky tip coating your bruising g-spot. 

“Haven’t I already told ya not to start things you c-can’t finish?” Geto’s husky voice is talking you through every clingy thrust. Falling from his pretty lips with each deep snap, fucking you into the drenched futon leisurely like some cocksleeve. “N’ what did you do, hm?”

You couldn’t answer if you wanted to - because Geto’s fingers were still firmly swiping around your tongue. Murmuring, “Exactly that. Just had to make that fuckin’ hah- stupid little joke about me not being able to handle another daughter, huh?”

“Mmpf- hngh Sugur-” you try to moan out at a low thump! outside, but he’s shushing you pliantly quiet with a ragged pump into your womb. Making you gush velvety ribbons of his previous cum.

“Heh, think this cunt actually wants to get out of this without being bred?” It was true, your painted-white walls were just clinging elastically to Geto’s shaft every time he drove into you, sucking up every bit of him like you’re trying to milk out something delicious. Again. 

“And guess what?” he’s so crazed now, eyes glowing with a dark delight. Hips pistoning into yours with fearsome accuracy to smash over and over into the bullseye of your sensitive spot. Sloppier. The shuffling outside getting louder. So unfairly good that you’re barely registering his next words, “M’jus’ gonna breed this slutty pussy until you give me another. Until everyone knows you’re my slut.”

It only takes one, two, three more drilling clashes with your g-spot for you to fall apart once more. 

Your own orgasm bursts out of you. Squirting in glistening dredges again and again until it’s just a few fatiguing shocks of pleasure that have you heaving for air, whining Geto’s name like a mantra. The overstimulation too much, his twitching cock too big - over and over-

“F-fuuuuck- squirting all over, y’made such a mess.” Geto’s moan is so pornographic when that angry divot at his flushed head explodes with spurts of thick hot cum. So addictively sweltering against your plush walls, it floods into your womb, down your thighs - to your lungs it almost feels like. “Gonna give me another daughter? Yeah?” He breathes, head thrown back while he stuffs you too-full, until he could see the seeping white on your creamy cunt in his glassy peripheral vision. And he still isn’t done cumming - thinning out to mere sticky wisps. “Gonna make you so full- so swollen. Until everyone looks at you and knows what I did- how I defiled you. They’ll look at you and see me. Me, me, me, me-”

There’s such an animalistic cadence in the way he’s rutting into you, pushing you further and further up those drenched sheets. Just dragging your body forwards with one strong arm around your handcuffs when his sheer volume gets too much that you’re trying to pathetically escape. 

Thump!

In a split-second, Geto’s grabbing at a hidden dagger from underneath his robes. Throwing - dead straight through the paper doors - only for a loud thud! to echo from outside. “Bet the scum outside don’t even need to hear the pregnancy announcement, huh?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - My strange addiction

Oh, there’s nothing you loved more than Choso losing control - around the time of year when the weather grows a little warmer, when your sweet boyfriend becomes a little more restless. Those dark, dewy eyes of his turning black with something primal, desperate. 

Ingrained in his blood to breed you. To do nothing but breed you. 

Like right now. 

“Oh?” you’re purring with a coy bat of your lashes, looking over your shoulder to where he was looming. Flushed, gulping, absolutely drunken off your heady scent. “On your rut again, Cho?”

And that makes his entire body jolt, as if zapped by a sudden wave of electricity. Large, trembly hands fist your thin shirt to pin you down like some ragdoll onto the cool kitchen counter. Breath hitching, such a pained grunt leaves him at the sound of his name leaving those pretty lips of yours. 

Almost guiltily, he’s baring a wet gasp, “Y-yes. Saw you makin’  ah- makin’ us dinner in the kitchen and-” It’s like he hasn’t even realized what he was doing, slapping his raw cock against your drooling slit with each word. Smack! Smack! Smack! “-and- I just thought about how- just needed to…”

But alas, Choso doesn’t get to finish a single thought - because you’re stepping up onto your tip-toes - ever-so-slightly. Feeding your needy cunt with just the round girth of his very tip.

“Just needed to what, Cho?” you hum, quirking a devilish brow his way, holding back a keen at the sheer stretch of him around your sopping entrance. “Or do you wanna stop?”

Fuck, Choso swears he could feel his overworked balls squeeze so painfully at the very thought. “No-”  he’s hissing, glassy gaze widening almost comically. “No no no no no- please no. please, please this is all I want.” 

With a sultry giggle, you reach behind to pull him roughly by his soft strands. Choso’s grunting out hoarsely, letting himself be dragged to clash his lips against your bruised ones in such a sloppy kiss. All tongue and teeth, he drinks you in like a man depraved. “All you ever want is to just hah- fuck me in this kitchen, Cho?”

It’s so cute the way he’s sputtering dazedly into your sagging mouth, such a sweet whiny cry of, “Yes but no- fuck, I jus’ wanna–” The slow drag of his heavy tongue coats the crook of your neck in his saliva, hammering his swollen cock upwards until he was practically lifting you off the ground with sheer inhuman force. “Jus’ wanna breed you full, baby. Breed this pretty pussy like m’meant to.”

It’s with an almost-animalistic type of worship that Choso’s just ramming the rest of his thick cock into you until he’s spearheading straight into your spongy g-spot, weighty balls - painful, and ready for breeding - smacking against your ass. Addicted. 

“O-oh, fuck–” you can’t stop your honeyed gasps. “You’re s-so big- so hard even after just this morning? What a naughty boy.” 

Just slamming you down onto the cool marble,“Fuck- fuck fuck y’know what I imagined when I hah- saw you in the kitchen?” Such throaty groans drag along with each and every plunge into your slobbering pussy, Choso was always so talkative when he was like this. Slurring out a mile a minute, “Saw my pretty wife, the pretty mother of my kids.”

And you knew what he was going to say, but that doesn’t stop you from milking him so tight, velvety walls contracting in a way that almost made it difficult to maintain his sloppy staccato. Back arching into such a slutty bow to drag even needier down his drilling length

But your beloved boyfriend still wasn’t done, kissing away hotly at the corner of your mouth. “N’ s’not jus’ the hngh- rut talking either. Fuuuuck-” All six feet of his muscled body pins you to the counter, and distinctly, you could feel him scramble desperately to buck up a knee to angle his hips even deeper. “Saw you makin’ breakfast before school, and I’m- hngh- and I’m getting the kids ready - a boy and a girl, both as gorgeous as you.”

“Y-yeah?” Is all you can breathe out, “What- hngh- what else?”

You didn’t expect his humorless chuckle - broken, and a few pitches higher than normal. “What else?” His eyes are absolutely crazed now, and he’s biting down on your pouty lower lip. “Oh what didn’t I see?” 

Bowing till you could feel every ripple of his abs against your back. Every slow tremor of his glossy head nudging past your defenses, hitting deep at the bottom of your g-spot. It takes a few more sloppy pumps for you to realize that Choso’s still speaking. 

“Saw the wedding- saw the first birth, the way I cried-” The way he was crying now, ragged, overstimulated tears dripping down his pretty cheeks. Panting out wetly, “-what a great momma you are, the best. The way I help you hngh- milk these p-pretty tits when it’s too much. But my most favorite of all-”

You don’t hear the rest - and he doesn’t tell you, because he’s too busy cumming. Cumming and cumming so much that Choso thinks he can’t stop, swollen base rummaging deep inside to plug up those thick ropes of hot seed inside. It was impossible that he hadn’t achieved his dream with this. 

It’s bloating you up, too much. Spilling out of those little gaps at the dips and ridges of his twitchy cock that your inner thighs cover in a clingy white sheen. 

Drawn on instinct, you can only scream when Choso’s sharp canines bite down on the sensitive spot at your neck. Hard enough to draw blood - and, if you two were in any better state of mind, you’d have noticed that he did draw blood. 

A thin saturation of heady red coating his devilish grin, delicate strings of spit still connect to the mating mark. “-my favorite was when we made another.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - DOUBLE STUFFED!

“One more.”

“Kuna-”

“One more.”

When all you’re getting is that leeringly dangerous grin - the very same one he gifts any weak curses just about to be killed at his feet - you know there’s no way you’re getting out of this. Either you take it - or he makes you. 

Gliding your palms across Sukuna’s bulging pecs, your trembly legs twitch atop his muscled thighs. Gingerly jutting along where your poor cunt was being split apart on his twin bulgingly hard cocks. Up and down up and down up and-

“S’too much-” you’re whining, feeling the gush of his sticky cum coat down your thighs. Oozing out of your bloated cunt with every syrupy sweet bounce of his ravaging cocks. “I- not enough space-”

Any you were about to stupidly babble out is cut off when Sukuna wraps five thick digits around your exposed neck, intentionally dipping his sharp nails to leave branding little divots right about your racing pulse. A warning. A punishment. “Did I tell ya to keep runnin’ that hah- mouth, brat?” he spits, waiting for you to shake your head deliriously “no” before grinning. “Then why am I hearing so much t-talking n’ not enough of this slutty lil’ cunt of yours taking one more? You hear that?” 

All that was ringing in your ears was the honeyed echoes of squelches from below, smacking and slapping in sync with your pathetic movement. 

“Exactly.” Sukuna’s snapping you out of your thoughts, one hand resting at the glistening plush of your hips, the other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you just slobber down his angry, red shafts. Glossing over him all the way from those fat tips to the creamy ring around his base. “Wastin’ too much of my hngh- cum with yer talkin’, brat. How are ya gonna have time to carry my seed?”

And he’s so large - so strong. Not even breaking a sweat when he’s getting up from his decadent throne with you boneless in his arms, still stuffing your cunt full with all greedy inches of both cocks. 

“O-oh, fuck, Kuna!” you’re squealing when gravity pulls you down until you could feel the scratch of his pink happy trail against the sensitively grazed areas of your skin. The dizzying push of two matchingly massive girths stretching your gummy walls to its limits. Your nails draw jagged red line down his tan skin, trying to keep just an ounce of your sanity together, “Fuck you’re in so hngh- deep.”

“Easy on the back there.” Sukuna’s rolling his eyes, but he can’t deny the way his heart clenches at the way you’re so fucked-out and easily sliding down his cock like some pretty sex toy. Whimpering about some baby names.

Not like it mattered, anyway. He’d name the little devilspawn whatever you wanted - after fighting about it for the fun of it. Heh, he always has been soft on you, huh?

All it takes is one hand holding you up, another to toy with the sensitive nub of your clit. Rolling and teasing you even deeper into his arms while another still rests firmly around your throat. 

The remaining hand? At Sukuna’s favorite place cupping your teary cheek, gliding away those big fat tears with the cure of his soft thumb, “Shh shhh, you can take it. You’re my pretty lil’ queen, right?”

Even his mind a hot melted mess on your dripping cunt. Just fucking into you ruthlessly, up, up, up till he was bulging at the very back of your cunt. One fat tip firmly kissing your g-spot, the other gliding in a silky smooth cadence against your poor cervix.

Matching veins rubbing matching sensitive spots, rendering you so awfully dumb on his cocks. Mixing with the hypnotic splattering of his seed against the velvet of your walls, it’s impossible to not feel like you’re about to fucking burst. 

Intertwining your fingers with his much longer ones on your face, you’re dragging them to rest at that palpable little nudge along the middle of your stomach. Pressing down to make him feel where he was buried deep, hiccuping lewdly, “You’re right here, Kuna. S’gonna be- hngh! impossible to not give you an heir.”

An heir. 

And fuck he couldn’t take it anymore - if anything even fucking heard about this, they’d faint. 

Because with a shuddering gasp, the king of curses was just dragging your weight down his cocks - over and over - to gloss your insides with each new coat of the thick, syrupy cum weeping out of his angry heads. So overfilled, but still greedily swallowing everything Sukuna gives. 

“Fuck-.” With an angrily strained growl, Sukuna only speeds up his motions on your clit. Methodical. Urgent, even. Still fucking him seed deeper to smash his quivering tips at your g-spot. Both - two divots pressurizing you at the same time. “How dare you make me cum first, woman. Think you’re soo fucking funny, huh? Better give me hundreds of lil’ hellspawn to make up for it.”

“N-noo-” you croon, but that limp little curl of your lips at the abundance of seed seeping out of you gives you away. It was so unlike him - so startling to spy the blushing rouge at his ears, the way his fat balls smack and only squeeze harder when you milk every drop. So hot, and splattering right down both of your legs, forming a creamy puddle at his floor. “I didn’t-”

You don’t finish your sentence, you can’t. Because with all of his brute strength, Sukuna is just wrenching that orgasm from your grasp - fucking you over and over through your high. 

The puddle only grows wider. And there’s no warning before he spits, once. Twice. Right onto the middle of the overwhelmed taste-buds on your tongue, gently shutting your mouth with one hand. The other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you drool a glossy coat of cum down his front. Making a mess.

“S’inauspicious, y’know. Having the momma cum first-” He’s gruffing, sure you were still crashing into wave after wave of pleasure to even hear his whines. “-so why don’t you give me one more?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Meet the Gojos

“Toru- we’ll get caught.”

“Shut up- fuck- shut up.” Gojo’s face was ashen, grinning so dangerously at the sight of you completely and utterly bound into that obscene mating press he loved so much. Your pretty pussy at the perfect angle for him to hammer his achy cock so thoroughly into you. “S’not what this cute cunt is sayin’ though, sweetheart.”

Fuck, if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have smacked him maybe. But you knew right by the glowingly amused tinty in his blue eyes that he was waiting for that to happen - goading even. 

You’re whining hotly, fingernails digging sharply into the winding wooden desk rested cool beneath your skin. “The- the elders are about to have a- hngh! meeting in here soon and-”

Gojo’s lips curl  when your breath hitches, feeding you each and every one of his merciless inches over and over- “Well then it’s damn good that they’ve been bugging me for an heir, dontcha think~?” 

You’re letting your drooling maw fall slack in disbelief - only to create the perfect opening for your boyfriend to catch you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Spitting out little profanities with each harsh push of his fat gliding tip across the slippery slopes of your walls. “Heh, always so fuuuck- cute when you’re fucked dumb on my cock.” he’s chuckling, mouth looser than usual with the way the tight channel of your cunt is sucking out every one of his honest thoughts - his soul. “But ya needa get more firm, I’m gonna be the fun parent.”

It takes another harsh snap! of those toned hips bruising against your ass for you to jump back into your heady reality. 

“T-Toru…” you’re murmuring, but it comes out so much more breathless than you wanted. Catching on to that syrupy, fucked-out tone of yours, Gojo takes the opportunity to ram his swollen length even meaner into your slobbering cunt. Wringing out your narrow hole to mold around the exact shape of his massive dick. “We- ngh! We’ve got to set an example.”

You feel the fat girth of his shaft grow two sizes even bigger at your scolding. Bulging those two prominent veins down the middle to imprint onto your gummy walls. The roaming point of his glossed-over head pressing straight onto your g-spot, making you writhe underneath him. Bucking up for more more more-

A pale, splayed-out palm slams! down onto the creaky mahogany right beside your head, and when you’re batting your dazed gaze up you see-

Oh. 

Oh fuck - forget setting an example, you were about to be made one. 

Because Gojo’s blue irises were sparking with tiny rods of lightning, teeth bared in such an amusedly feral grin that it made your cunt ache. 

“Fuck-” even his voice sounded deeper - raspier, cracking ever-so-slightly with need near the end. “Fuck, you can’t talk shit to me about ‘setting examples’ when you get so fuckin’ wet just because I play a little rough.”

Playing a little rough was an understatement - and both of you knew it. Because if Gojo was simply toying with your sanity before, then he was well and fully intent on breaking it right now. Right along with your poor pussy with those bludgeoning, harsh thrusts you were being gifted with.

The expansion of his weighty cock has you squealing with each powerful slam, “Fuck- fuck you little-”

“Hunk? Absolute catch?” he grins, voice dropping to a low husky drawl. A slick little trail of drool dips down the corner of his mouth already with every cracking beg and plea, followed by a series of lingering grinds - not even thrusts, just slow, shallow swerves to feel you tighten wetly around his hot shaft. The lights flicker above, “Father of your kids?” 

That makes you wrack in a sinful shudder, words tumbling out before your syrupy sweet brain could compute them, “You’d make a- a good daddy, Toru.”

Crack! 

It’s happening in a split-second - a stuttering gasp catches in Gojo’s throat, those baby blue eyes going wide. Glowing. In the distance, your popping ears catch the sharp shattering of that prized vase in the corner of the room. 

But right now it felt like you were the one about to break - because ribbons and ribbons of Gojo’s hot, potent seed were knocking on the door to your womb. Splurging in thick dredges to stuff you full from the inside out. 

“Fuck- fuck, you evil evil woman.” Gojo breathes out, the only thing he could seem to do at this very moment. When the tethering clenches of his balls have tapered out, he’s pulling out to smack! the length of his throbbing, red shaft on your clit. Mouth hanging open at the way just buckets of his own cum gush out of your tight hole. “Shit- m’gonna breed this cute cunt. Gonna fill her up until you’re so round and swollen.” he’s babbling, gliding pale fingers across the sloshing cum now seeping onto the desk to shove it back inside. 

“Fuuuck- m’gonna breed her till she hah- doesn’t know what it’s like to not be stuffed full. Until you’re giving me a cute lil’ blue-eyed baby.” Crackling with jujutsu energy, he’s smack down on your puffy cunt - hard! “Until m’not the strongest. Not even second- or third or fourth or fifth-” kissing your pouty lips in addicted little pecks. “-no. S’gonna be my- our kids. All ours.”

“Ngh! Toru–” you’re whining, only taking another few messy swivels on your cunt before you cum. And you swear, the lights go out at this very moment - the only thing you can see being Gojo’s flickers of purple jujutsu and his gleamingly white grin.

He smacks another hand down on that wooden meeting desk - the now broken desk, standing wearily on only three legs - and the puddle of cum seeping below you. “Think we’ll be excused from the meeting? Because m’not done with you just yet, ma.”

A/N. Yuh I had two Kendrick references I apologize (I don’t).

Plagiarism not authorized.

[rqnarok]

summary: old man!logan finds himself having a breeding kink.

cws/tags: smut, mdni! old man!logan. fem!reader. heavy breeding kink. dom/sub dynamics. unprotected p in v. pet names. not proofread. 

Logan’s younger self would not approve of this idea. 

Hell, it would not even cross his youthful, unbound, and liberated version. Younger Logan would have brushed off the idea - dodging it like a bullet - revolting against it. 

Having a kid? A noisy five-year-old child running around the house, screaming and kicking everything in sight? Yeah, fuck no. 

He’d even hate just thinking about it. 

But now that years have gone by and he’s almost hitting 200 years of age–a lot has changed in how he sees things, alright. Suddenly he’s not that idealistic-insufferable-annoying fuck anymore.

The heavy feels of his own body, his poor visions, his utter tiredness and wounds are slowly tended by settling down with you. Living in a small countryside home just outside Texas is the life Logan needed all along.

So he just can’t fucking help it when he sees how you act with those children at the Barbeque party. How you treat them with such care as if they’re yours. 

The smile plastered on your face after you give each one of them a cookie is Heaven sent for Logan. He’s too focused on being mesmerized by your acts that he almost does not realize how his trousers feel tighter.

He quickly hides his bulge whilst embarrassed of himself, thinking ‘M fuckin’ old for this shit. But who gives a fuck anyway? 

Oh, he in the past would not approve of this at all. 

“Fuck. You’d look so fuckin’ good with y’r belly swollen with my child.” Logan grunts out, thrusting his girth into you as his mind fills up with visions of you carrying his child. 

The images themselves make Logan go feral—growling when he feels how your velvet walls manage to clench around him.

“A-ah! Please!” The high-pitched noise you let out is almost humiliating as you bounce yourself on top of your husband, making the head hit your gummy spot every time you fall down.

“Hm? Y’want that, Little Missy? Want me t’give you a baby?” His calloused fingers rub shapes on your sticky skin, guiding your hips as he tries to search for the answer in your eyes.

You reply with a frantic nod, your mind feels empty as his tip deliciously kisses your cervix. The thought of being full of his seed, pregnant and giving him a baby—makes your eyes roll back in pleasure.

With one movement, Logan manages to manhandle you to a new position, his cock never slips out from your heat, “Want this old man t’give you one? Make you a momma?” 

The sound of his full balls slapping against your ass makes you squeeze your eyes shut. 

Now clearly hearing the obscene moans emitting through the dim room, “Yeahyeahyea—W-wanna be a momma—”

While you wonder how he still has this much stamina at that age, Logan leans down to your ear and buries his face on your neck, “Pretty wife. Gonna make the cutest goddamn babies, y’know tha’?” 

His palms hold your thighs spread open to reach deeper inside you, “Let me fill ya’ up real good.”

Logan’s eyes flicker to watch your pussy swallow his cock in and out. The sight alone makes him throw his head and let guilt wash him over for a minute.

He feels perverted—corrupting you by plugging his cock to the hilt as if it is trying to mold your insides. A dilemma growing.

You could feel how his thrusts steadily became desperate, “L-Lo.” Whining out, your fingers crawl into his back to pull him tighter. 

He can’t fucking wait to have you round up. Shit. You’d be so dependent on him—need him at all times. And he’d fulfill everything you ask him to do. Logan would never even let you move an inch. 

Everything caught up to him as an acute wave, “F-Fuck. There ya’ go, baby.” Logan mutters - his hands shake slightly as they lose their grip on your thighs. 

His cock never pulling out, “D’ya think it takes, pretty?” You could feel him deep inside you—how your walls are painted by his thick ropes of cum. 

Logan gives lazy circles of his hips before pressing a sweet kiss on your lips, whispering several ‘I love you’s’ before lowering himself so his face could level with your pussy.  

“Fuck.” The older man has never seen a far more beautiful sight than this. Watching his cum begin to leak out of you makes his cock twitches again. 

The scruffy feel of his beard scratches your inner thighs as he leans closer—dragging the tips of his fingers along your folds before plugging his digits back inside. 

“Logan-n!” 

A deep rumble comes out of Logan, “Shh. Be a good girl for your husband, yeah? Need’a to make sure it takes.”

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[slvttyplum]

halloween for you and toji became less about getting sexy and devouring each other and more about your two sticky finger little kids you had to take care of. 

smiling as you got one of them ready but slowly losing your sanity thinking about all the things you and toji could be doing to each other in this very moment.

you and toji looking at each other every five seconds, whispering with your eyes, smirking knowing what the other just said. toji eyeing your cute little costume down as he patted your child's head and walked towards you. 

fighting the urge to tell your son to watch over his sister while they go trick or treating so you can have an hour to toji for yourself with the way he's looking in the coveralls he was wearing, rolling your eyes at how irresponsible that was, but your prayers were answered. 

"the babysitter is taking them; worked overtime to get her. you can pay me back by sitting on my face." toji whispering in your ear as your knees buckled, those words making your body untense.

impatiently waiting for the sitter to show up, bouncing your leg, thirty minutes, and they were out of there. wasting no time to jump his bones and unzip him while you drop to your knees. 

toji was right there with you; he needed you badly. he worked for months to save up for this good ass babysitter, and he wasn't going to waste it. 

picking you up from your knees and dragging you to the bedroom and placing you right on his face, right where he wanted you, his eyes fluttering with pleasure once he got your taste directly on his tongue, swallowing thickly as he tuned into your moans.

nails in your thighs and your moans, making his dick hard, leaning into the pleasure and riding his face, riding out the quick high that he gave you. 

his tongue rubbing all over your pussy as you ran your fingers through his hair, tongue fucking you until you couldn't handle it, and it took little to no hours for that to happen.

he ate pussy off the bone without fail every single time, slurping all the meat off of it and eating it good, doing it again and again until his jaw was sore. your stomach twisting and turning with pleasure, the little knot in your lower stomach unraveling as you finish right on his face. 

too messy of a finisher to finish right in his mouth, so all over his face was the best option, and he loved that shit; he loved how messy you were. 

wondering if going for kid number three would be worth it, but once he looked up at you in the eye, he knew the answer.

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ it's sticky, toshi... ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : you help ushijima finally realize that he's got a breeding kink

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...cw : u. wakatoshi x fem!reader, dirty talk, messy and wet, teasing, marathon sex, pet names, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, ushijima can't stop cumming

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : haikyuu save me, save me ushijima wakatoshi, SAVE ME !! anyways hi i spent 150$ on ushijima merch yesterday and i don't regret it, so say hello to my haikyuu phase coming back !!!

ushijima having a breeding kink isn't a surprise to you at all.

what is surprising is how long it takes for him to figure it out.

sure, at first it wasn't clear, but after being with him for so long, you quickly pick up on whenever he'd mutter in your ear as he slid his stupidly big cock inside of you, saying how badly he wished he could cum inside of you instead in the condom.

afterwards, he's so focused on cleaning you up and making sure you felt good and satisfied, you don't get a chance to question him on it. not that you were complaining, ushijima is so cute when he's asking if you need anything and constantly reminds you to get up and go use the bathroom.

it's even cuter when he realizes you can't walk.

"ah. i'm sorry, i didn't realize how hard i went...here, let me help."

eventually, you to suggest things to ushijima, trying to test out the waters with him.

you start by just asking if he’d want to fuck you without the condom, what he thought about cumming inside, even jokingly saying you’d make him a dad one day.

but it seems like that last part was swimming around his head for a while...he can't get the thought of you getting chubby and round with his kid out of your head. and knowing he'd be able to take care of you all the time? that thought alone made him shiver a little.

what can he say, he loves doting on you more than anything.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.” “I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

“i-i know, honey, i’ll give you all of it, stuff you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[suguann]

PRETTIEST BABY—JJK MEN. * ˚ ✦

✎. they can't help it, they're kind of obsessed with you. | wc. 2k+

tags. fem!reader, thigh riding, slight food play, unprotected sex, mating press, spit play, object insertion, oral sex, threesome, spit roasting, rough sex, degradation, praise kink, pet names [18+ only]

featuring. nanami, sukuna, choso, gojo & geto

an. dividers by @/hitobaby | masterlist

↬ NANAMI

You don’t hear him when he walks in, too busy dancing around his kitchen to a song playing on the radio in that short sundress that always makes his pants feel tight. But at the sound of him setting his keys and briefcase down on the counter, you turn and give him a pretty little smile.

“Hey, I just put the kids down for a nap.” You pop a dollop of cream into your mouth from the bowl you’re holding. “How was work?” 

Nanami can’t think straight enough to answer, too busy staring at your cheeks, how they suck in around your finger, and the sound of your hum when the sugar hits your tongue. The sound has him thinking about you humming like that around his cock, or wondering if you’d tease the purpling head the way you’re licking your finger.

He shouldn’t be thinking it at all—not when the babysitter should be here any minute to watch the boys.

But he can’t help it. 

When you pull your finger out of your mouth, you have just enough time to squeak before his hand is palming the back of your head, and his lips come crashing down against yours.

He groans into your mouth, his hands carding down your sides before finding purchase at your hips to bunch in the skirt of your dress. You release the most adorable gasp when he picks you up, carrying you across the kitchen to sit in one of the dining chairs; his hold keeps you from falling off his lap as your legs drop from behind his back to around his thighs clumsily.  

Nanami’s hands slide up from the swell of your hips until they cup your breasts, his thumb circling a nipple reverently.

“Prettiest tits,” he mumbles to himself.

You moan louder than you should with the kids right down the hall, your fingers flexing around his shoulders. “Oh!”

“Shh, honey,” he smiles faintly, pressing kisses against your open, panting mouth. “Don’t want to wake the kids.”

His thumbs brush against your nipples through your dress, his hands spanning almost the entire width of your rib cage. You shiver from how the fabric of your bralette and dress rub against sensitive, pebbling skin, creating an electric pulse with every pass that travels down to where you’re aching and empty.

You bury your face in his neck, rolling your hips over the hardness in his neatly pressed dress pants.

“Do you think you cum for me like this, sweetheart?” His lips move along your jaw, a distraction that makes your head fuzzy. But you still hear him, and your thighs clench around him in anticipation—a delicious sort of ache tingling up your spine with a subtle thrust of his hips against yours.

“I—ah—don’t think—not like this.”

“I think you can,” he coos, nosing at your neck, pressing another kiss there. “Come on, be a good little wife and cum for me.”

Oh, god. You’re going to cum from this—maybe from the filth dripping from your husband’s tongue alone. 

Your thighs are slippery. You can feel it every time Nanami helps you roll your hips against him, and a sticky-hot heat swirls in your abdomen, moving all the way down to your curling toes. Your heart stutters in your chest to keep up with your rapid puffs of breath into his mouth. 

You’re going to…You’re really going to—

His fingers twist your nipple, and like a switch, your mouth falls open in a silent scream, and you’re shaking in his lap. Nanami helps you move against him to ease you through it, whispering tiny indiscernible praises through the fog of syrupy bliss.

“So good for me.” You hear a zipper coming undone as your head slowly clears. “You can be good for me a little longer, and try to give me another, okay?”

↬ SUKUNA

He asks you to stay the night after he gets home late from a busy day at the gym—his clothes rumpled and hair sticking every which way. You get a little flustered at the thought of sleeping under the same roof as the stupidly attractive father to the kid you babysit, and you try to politely decline by saying, “I shouldn’t.”

“I can’t let you walk home in the dark,” he says, sounding just a tad tired as he heats up leftovers in the microwave. “Plus, Hana was disappointed when she found out you leave every night.”

“Really?” Hesitant, safe.

A little grin spreads across his face, making your breath stutter in your chest. “Yeah. Imagine how excited she’ll be when she finds you here in the morning.”

You bite your lip, already thinking about it. She is a sweet kid…

“If it’s…If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Cross my heart,” he tells you.

It’s surreal to think saying yes leads to him fucking you into his super soft king-sized mattress an hour later—you and Sukuna were never supposed to be a sweet mix of limbs and hot pants into each other’s mouths, and yet, here you are. If you’d known this would happen from wearing his clothes, you would have done it months ago.

He has two thick fingers pressed against your tongue to muffle your moans, the way you slightly gag around them sounding so much louder in your ears than the noises he’s trying to keep quiet. Your cunt feels swollen and sensitive just from him notching the head of his cock inside, only aided by the rough swipe of his thumb against your clit.

It’s already the most you’ve ever let any man do—no condom, nothing but slick skin—reasonable, responsible words turning to smoke with another inch inside you. 

“Look at you,” he groans, a large hand covering the small impression of his dick pressing up against your belly. “So fucking tiny, I hardly fit.” 

But he does fit, slipping in the last half inch, his thighs touching the back of yours, his fingers sliding a little deeper down your throat. The sudden need to get air into your lungs distracts you from the uncomfortable stretch between your thighs.

“Fuck, baby. Took me—ah—took me like a champ.” His breathing is labored, his voice rough. “How about a little more, okay?”

All you can do is nod, teary-eyed, whimpering. 

When his fingers leave your mouth to palm the back of your thighs, you can’t control the too-loud whine that escapes your raw throat—high-pitched and surely reaching beyond his bedroom door. His shoulders press your legs further into your chest, making you feel smaller than you already are underneath his broad shoulders, and he brings his hand back up to your mouth to cover the moans you can’t hold in.

“Be quiet—so fucking tight, needed this—and let me fuck this toy cunt.”

↬ CHOSO

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” you tell the little boy, trying to make his way from the back steps to you sitting in the grass.

Choso watches from the porch, sucking on a lollipop as you play in the yard with his son. You hadn’t expected him to come home for a few more hours, and it’s hard not to look over at him, your cheeks hot from the amount of attention on you. 

Neither of you spends much time together outside of a few pleasantries before and after work, asking about each other's day, him asking if Yuji was good for you—he always is—before you go home.

Then, one drunken night, you’d ruined everything by accidentally sending a nude to him (your boss, no less). Now, he hardly says a word to you; no, you leave in a rush—hair in your face, coat hanging off an arm—before he can open his mouth.

But Choso coming home right around Yuji’s naptime (he’s never home this early) is about to change that.

“So,” you start to say after setting the baby monitor down and curling up on the couch, “have you gone to that new Thai place down the street?”

“It’s down the street. Of course, I have.” He crosses the room, almost looking like a predator with the way he stalks towards you.

“Oh—”

In a matter of seconds, Choso easily has you pinned underneath him like a butterfly, the skirt of your dress pooling up around your waist. Your head spins from the proximity, chest heaving when he moves down, down—-

He lays on his stomach between your legs, carefully wrenching your soaked panties to the side to expose your cunt. Drenched and vulnerable on his couch, your thighs tremble as he parts your folds with his thumbs to reveal the wet, clenching part of you that’s suddenly desperate for his touch.

“You’re messy down here,” he hums, popping his sucker out of his mouth to spit against your folds. “Drippy.”

The melted red sugary confection drips from his mouth onto your clit before ducking his head to swipe his tongue through your slit, slurping up the mess he made.

“Choso—oh!”

Your hands fly to his hair, messing up the bun he has it in, and he groans into your cunt. It makes the muscles in your stomach jump, and you tip your head back against the arm of the couch. The noises he pulls from your throat are embarrassing, whimpers and moans that make you sound as desperate as you feel.

“Knew you’d taste sweet ever since you sent that picture of this pretty pussy.”

Another cry flies from your lips when he pushes the sucker inside you, and one of your hands comes up to cover your mouth, trying not to wake the baby—you don’t want this to end before it’s even really started.

“You look so cute spread out like this, letting me play with you like you’re mine.”

Then he suctions his soft lips over your clit, and your vision goes white.

↬ GOJO & GETO

You hadn't meant to interrupt your husband while he was in a meeting with Gojo. But it’d been important at the time—a reminder of an upcoming appointment that he forgot to mark on the calendar. Your daughter needed it for school. 

Now you’re wondering if it could have waited—and at the same time, you’re glad you didn’t.

"Look at you, taking cock like a bitch in heat," Geto sneers down at you where you're sprawled out against the expensive leather couch in his office, mean fingers roughly tweaking your sensitive nipples raw through your sheer bra. "Couldn't wait for me to come home, huh?”

You whine around Gojo’s cock that’s currently stealing the air from your chest, his grip tight in your hair to keep you from pulling away. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, a grin on his lips. “Didn’t think your wife would be a good little cocksucker?”

You’re tacky-wet and sticky between your legs, staining Geto’s expensive pants, creating a large dark spot on the fabric below where his hips kiss the back of yours with every harsh thrust into you.

A distressed mewl leaves your lips when he reaches down to thumb at your clit. "Please," your voice cracks, garbled consonants, and vowels barely making sense on your tongue—overstimulated tears leaking past your hairline and onto the cushion under you.

“Shit, baby—” Gojo groans, practically fucking your face—a stark contrast from how Geto steadily presses in you. It makes you dizzy. “You keep whining like that, and you’re going to make me cum.”

Sweaty strands of hair cling to your temples as you writh underneath the two imposing men determined to ruin you. You feel like an exposed nerve—a tender bruise before it blooms—desperately chasing a release just out of your reach because Geto refuses to give it to you.

You don't stop yourself from bringing your fingers down to where he sinks into your slippery heat, hoping he'd just give in and fuck you how you want.

He scoffs but doesn't push your hand away. "Did I say you could touch my cock?"

You try moaning a response, only to have Gojo’s hips stutter into your mouth, a guttural sound releasing from his throat.

"But you're a slut for my cock, aren't you? Can't keep your—fuck—hands off it." You don't even answer, can't when the feeling of sticky ropes of cum paint your throat, making all the words stick to the back of your tongue—your mouth quivering as you remember to inhale through your nose.

Geto’s resolve slowly crumbles when you clench around his cock, his hips needily pressing into yours with a grunt. "Shit, princess, just like that. My messy, drooling slut."

Just when Gojo slips from your mouth, Geto starts pounding into you, making you squeal hoarsely and arch up into his firm chest. "Aah, yes! F-feels good!"

He brings the wide pad of his thumb up to your hot cheeks and wipes away the fresh set of tears collecting along your lash line. "C'mon, baby. Stop your crying and cum. Milk my cock with this greedy pussy of yours."

[clockmax]

! STICKY

>> jjk kink hc's

FT!  gojo, geto, nanami, toji

! warnings 18+CONTENT, MDNI. , not proofread, fem reader, pure filth, breeding kink, mating press, overstimulation, switch!gojo(?), fingering, p in v, raw sex(wrap it b4 u tap it tho!), riding, oral, praise, oral

~ A/N: re-uploading this from my old blog LOL idk requests r open and make sure to take care of urself ily ཐི♡ཋྀ  likes + reblogs + comments r always appreciated!

𓇼 NANAMI

I think as a fandom we all agree Nanami is a family man. He’s got a steady and stable relationship with you, so who better to have his kids then you?

I like to think he got baby fever after he saw you holding your niece for the first time ,just falling in love with how sweetly you spoke to the baby, how gentle you looked, like a natural mother.

It for sure got his cock in a stir.

Thoughts of you round with his kid filled his head, thinking of you taking care of the little bundle of joy almost had him bend you over in the nearest room.

Guaranteed for the next few weeks(at least) he’d have you bent over, pumping you full of his cum. He’d hold your legs close to your ears, putting you in a mating press while his cock pumps you full.

Nanami would just keep stuffing you full over and over again, overstimulating himself just to get you pregnant. Fucking you until you’re nearly cross-eyed from just how many orgasms he;s pulled from your sore, stuffed pussy.

Nanami who would keep fucking you sore every night until he sees  a positive pregnancy test. And even with that, he’d fuck another one into you as soon as he can <3

𓇼 GOJO

Whether he’s being overstimulated, or overstimulating you, this man loves it.(he’s a whore.)

With you, he loves seeing the fucked out expression on your face and he pulls out your nth orgasm, watching how you writhe and shudder as his fingers delicately work you open. Or when he’s fucking you raw with his cock, mushroomy tip hitting that spongy spots that makes your toes curl. He makes it his goal to cum at least 3 times before he even thinks about coming himself.

But it also goes the same way when you overstimulate him. Could be from riding him, sucking him off, or just even a simple handjob. I like to believe he’s got a sensitive tip, so it’s  easy to overstimulate him. And for a fact, he loves it.

He’s a whimpering, moaner, and groaner 4 sure. So you’ll know he’s come enough time when he starts getting more vocal than he already is. Or when his hips rut into your mouth or hand, or  just straight up holding your hips while he ruts up into you. 

He’ll keep both of you overstimulated until you give out, or he’s practically ‘shooting blanks’

𓇼GETO

Geto in my heart will forever be a soft lover. He could fuck rough, sure, but i like to think a majority of the time he treats you very sweetly(unless you’ve been a brat but thats a diff talk)

He just loves to fuck you, even if he’s fucked you so dumbed that its gone in one ear and out the other. Something about the sparkle in your eyes when he coos sweet words at you just gets him going even more.

“Open your legs, baby, ‘wanna see that pretty pussy.” He’d coax at you, leaving wet, open kisses along your thighs. 

“That’s it, good girl, always listening to me.” Geto praised. He’d always take his time with his fingers, mouth, or cock. 

He’d talk you through it, praising how well you’re doing, how pretty you look with that look of ecstasy on your face. He’s just smitten with you, and it will always show when hes got you in his hands.

𓇼 TOJI

Toji’s a sucker for oral. I will not be fought on this

He seems like he would enjoy receiving oral and giving it just as equally. But when i tell you he’d fuck your mouth, i mean it.

He’s the type to hold your hair in a pigtail, gliding your mouth along his cock; just the way he likes it. His ears suck up all the lovely gasps and gags you make, the small moans and whimpers. He’d love watching as you try to circle your clit and suck him off at the same time, watching as you try to find something to rub your dripping wet pussy against.

When he’s giving oral, he might just be enjoying it more than you. He’d have a wole feast down there, spelling his name on your clit, sucking your juices; there's really no stopping him and his meal. 

He just can’t get enough of the way your thighs squeeze around his head, or how your hands pull at his hair, bumping your clit up against his nose.

He thinks you look equally as pretty on your knees between his manspread, face buried in his happy trail as you suck at his cock.

Suguru Geto who loves just how shy you get whenever her teases or flirts with you. Whether it be the gentle grab of your ass in that skirt, or the way he whispers filthy words into your ears even if there's people around.

Suguru Geto who makes sure to kiss your neck and leave hickies, provoking those sweet, sweet whines and begs for him that fall from your pretty lips. 

Suguru Geto who buries himself between your thighs, arms locked around the fat of your thigs, tongue working onto your clit as if it was his last meal. His eyes stay on your face the entire time, pulling his mouth away if you dare to look away from him.

“Look at me baby, wanna see that pretty face when you cum.”

Suguru Geto who can say the most filthy things about you with a straight face, with the taste of your juices on his lips after making you cum 3 times. He loves the look of pure euphoria on your half lidded eyes.

Suguru Geto who still teases you when he stuffs your cunt full of his thick cock. It’s sinful with his hands roam around your body, leaving marks on your hips, and playing around with your tits. His eyes watch those lustful expressions on your face as his dick slides in and out of you, hitting all those sweet spots from the curve of his cock.

Suguru Geto who has you keep your eyes on him as he drills your overstimulated pussy, pelvis bumping on your swollen clit. 

“That's it, good girl. Looking so pretty taking this cock, cunt’s practically talking to me.”  He’d whisper in your ear, gently kissing the trace of your jawline, feeling just how hot your face was.

Suguru Geto who loves the fucked out look on your face as he makes you cum for the nth time. Hazel eyes watching how your eyes practically roll to the back of your head, body trying to squirm away as you squirt on him again.

Suguru Geto who cums in you over and over again, the lewd look on your face nearly imprinted in his mind. He knows just how much you love feeling the warm, hot, sticky ropes of cum paint your gummy walls.

“Spread your legs baby, that's it.. Wider. Good girl.” 

Suguru Geto who loves watching the cum drip from your cunt, mixed in with your juices. Sometimes he’ll go back to eat you out after he’s came inside you.

Suguru Geto who loves to tease you, get you all flustered and worked up just to fuck you dumb minutes later.

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

series masterlist

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

-

part four

[obsessedwithceleste]

Mother Brother Knows Best

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this request 🫶🏽

Summary: In which Theodore is no match for the sheer determination of a twelve year old fueled by sugar, pumpkin juice, and spite.

word count: 4.1k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

“Take a picture mate, it’ll last longer,” Mattheo says, collapsing onto the sofa next to his brooding friend.

Theo looks at the boy next to him in annoyance. Mattheo had been meant to meet him in the library thirty minutes ago, and while he was waiting on his habitually late friend, he’d been forced to watch the love of his life practically sit on bloody Cormac McLaggen’s lap. What you saw in that boy, Theo had no idea.

Theo had fancied you for what felt like forever to him at that point, and it’s not like he was exactly subtle about it. At least he didn’t think he was being subtle, but ask any of his friends and they’d say that holding eye contact from across the room for over 3 seconds did not count as a declaration of love. But what did they know. Not that it mattered anyway because somehow, he’d managed to lose you to the toadstool that the Gryffindor house claimed to be a fully functioning wizard.

“I wasn’t staring,” he mutters defensively, breaking his steady glare away unconvincingly.

“Sure you weren’t. How is little y/n anyway? Haven’t seen much of her since she and ole McLaggen started snogging and such,” Mattheo responds easily, an amused grin spreading across his face as he watched his friend tense.

“Fuck off. Don’t remind me.”

With a silent snicker, Mattheo leaned back in his chair. Ever since you had started going out with Cormac, it had been increasingly easy for Mattheo to ruffle Theo’s feathers. The boy really had been taken with you for months now, and Mattheo simply saw this as payback for all the hours he’d been forced to listen to Theo’s rather pathetic pining. She doesn’t even know I exist this, and we made eye contact for a whole 7 seconds that. You’d managed to bring the ever stoic Theodore Nott to his bloody knees, and you didn’t even know it.

“So, about that charms homework…” Mattheo says eventually, breaking Theo’s blazing gaze away from you and Cormac once more.

“No time. Carter should be here any minute since you, are thirty minutes late.”

Mattheo raises an eyebrow.

“You’re still gonna tutor that little gremlin? Thought you were just trying to get on y/n’s good side. No point now eh?”

For the past few month or so, Theo had been tutoring your younger brother in charms and transfiguration and, while Mattheo was right about his initial intentions, the little bugger had slowly grown on him. Like a fungus.

Theo shrugs noncommittally as he spots the young Slytherin from across the library.

“Not just gonna let Carter fail. He’s a good kid.” He mumbles.

“Aw Teddy, you’ve gone soft,” Mattheo teases as his eyes follow the young boy making his way excitedly towards them.

Making a face at his friend, Theo tosses a scroll of parchment across the table and Mattheo reaches out to snatch it.

“Get outta here ya tosser.”

With one last smirk, Mattheo rises lazily from their place on the sofas, nodding once at Carter who sidles up to him before making his escape, a completed charms essay successfully secured.

“Hi Theodore!” Carter greets, swinging his bag onto the sofa next to Theo before climbing up himself.

“Hey buddy, what’re we working on today?” Theo asks, a fond smile growing on his face as the young boy makes himself comfortable.

Usually Theo wasn’t one for children of any sort. He found them to be, sticky. But Carter almost reminded him of a younger version of himself. Feisty and energetic with a sharp tongue. The pair honestly got on like a house on fire and Theo actually looked forward to their tutoring sessions.

“Levitating charms,” Carter replies with a look of disgust. “Ew. Is that Cormac and y/n?” He asks, spotting his sister across the library.

Matching Carter’s face of disgust, Theo nods his head in confirmation, pulling out his own charms book.

“He’s the bloody worst. I wish y/n would date someone cool for once. She has a talent for always picking the worst ones. I heard Cormac say he wants to see what’s under y/n’s skirt once, so I told him that the only way he was going to get laid was by crawling up a chicken’s arse and waiting. He didn’t like that. But his friends all thought it was funny. But then he locked me in a broom closet. But it was fine cause Enzo found me a few minutes later and beat Cormac’s arse for me,” Carter rambles, flipping through the pages of his textbook.

Salazar, for a second year, this kid was certainly mouthy, Theo thought.

“Think Enzo mentioned that to me actually.” He replies off-handedly.

“Yeah. He’s so cool. I think y/n used to have a crush on him a few years ago. Don’t tell her I said anything though. You’re cool too.” Carter says, looking down at his book. “Hey! Why don’t you date y/n? Then I could see you during holiday! Hopefully Cormac doesn’t stick long enough to make it to Christmas. I don’t want him to stink up the house.”

Theo feels his cheeks begin to redden at the boy’s statement and he begins to stutter. Damn he hoped his filter wasn’t this bad when he was twelve.

“Let’s just get back to the lesson,” he mumbles, hoping to redirect the young boy.

Lucky for him, Carter obliges, allowing the older boy to guide him through the precise wand movements essential to the spell in question.

“Windgardimum leviosum”

“Wingardinum liviosa”

“Windgarnium leviosauarasurausrus.”

“Now you’re just making words up,” Theo laughs as the boy fails to pronounce the spell correctly for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Because I am!” The boy says with frustration.

“Hey, c’mon, it’s fine okay. Ready? Win.”

“Win”

“Gaurd”

“Gaurd.”

“E-um”

“E-um”

“Wingardium”

“Wingardium”

“Nice! Now the second part. Lev.”

“Lev”

“E-o-sa”

“E-o-sa”

“Leviosa”

“Leviosa.”

“Great. Now put it together.”

“Wingardium Leviosa.”

“Perfect, now add the wand movements,” Theo instructs.

Moments later, Carter has a textbook floating through the air with ease.

“So will you date my sister?” Carter asks as he slides his books back into his bag.

Theo chokes on air. It had been a bit over an hour and the two had perfected the boy’s levitating charms and worked on turning a flower into a teacup, so Theo had assumed that their previous conversation was all but forgotten to the younger boy. Apparently not.

“Sorry?” He splutters, looking over at his companion.

“My sister. Will you date her? I saw you get all red earlier so you must like her, at least a little,” the boy says nonchalantly as if pointing out the most obvious thing in the world.

Theo feels the heat rushing to his cheeks once more.

“Look little man, I appreciate the support, but it’s not really entirely up to me to decide. Your sister is taken,” Theo tries to reason.

The boy just shrugs.

“We’ll just have to break em up then. Cormac is dumb as rocks, so it’s not like it’ll be hard,” he replies.

Theo can barely hold in his laughter. Salazar this kid was great.

“You know what Carter, if you can break those two up, yeah, I’ll ask out y/n,” he says, patting the young boy on the back.

“Deal.” Carter says, sticking out his hand. “But don’t think I don’t know that I’m doing you a favor too. I’ve seen you stare at my sister. Oh. And if I need help plotting, you have to help me too.”

Damn this kid was good. A right and proper Slytherin.

“Deal.” Theo replies, shaking the boys hand.

As he’s leaving the library, he hears Carter’s voice ring out.

“Hey Cormac! The village called and said they want their idiot back, so you better get going!”

Salazar he’d really found himself the perfect ally he thought gleefully. With a final snicker, Theo pushed open the library doors and headed back down to the dungeons.

You watch with silent amusement from the entrance of the Great Hall as your younger brother once again made Cormac’s life a living disaster, sending pumpkin juice flying all over the older boy’s robes. For the past week or so, you’d noticed your brother sabotaging your boyfriend’s every move with varying levels of discretion; from tripping him in the halls, causing him to trip into you, to sticking him to his chair in the library during a study date.

At first you’d found it annoying as you’d known your brother didn’t like your boyfriend, but thought he didn’t have to make the boy miserable. But then, as you were passing by what you thought was an empty classroom, you’d heard your brother’s voice whispering to one Theodore Nott.

“Do you think it would be too far to just get him expelled? If I have to see him snog my sister one more time, I’ll release one of Hagrid’s beasts on him myself!” You’d heard Carter exclaim, followed by Theo’s low chuckle.

“Easy there little basilisk. Let’s not get the guy expelled, as aggravating as he might be.”

You’d never really spoken to Theo much in the past, and aside from brief eye contact from across the classroom, you really couldn’t remember interacting with the boy at all. But he’d begun tutoring your brother a few months ago, and Carter would not stop going on about the boy. You knew your brother was quite picky with his friends, and very difficult to impress, so to be so taken with the bloke. You knew Theodore had to be something special. You’d started noticing him more after that, dark and broody, but also sharp witted and fiercely loyal to his group of Slytherins. Not to mention ridiculously handsome.

You subconsciously take a step closer, listening to the two boys.

“I don’t understand why she likes him. He’s so dumb. And mean. He’s always picking on me and my friends when y/n isn’t around. And he thinks he’s so cool because he’s a bloody Gryffindor. I don’t know why she wouldn’t just date you in the first place. You’re the best,” you hear Carter grumble as you feel yourself blush.

You hear Theo laugh again. “Let’s finish this chapter and then you can continue plotting Cormac’s demise okay?” You hear him say.

“Fine. Do you think y/n will break up with him if he smells? I wanna hide a dung beetle in his robes.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. Now- quill pen into a telescope, let’s go.” Theo says with a snort.

After that, you’d begun to take your brother’s words to heart, noticing Cormac’s rash reactions towards the younger students, and loud outbursts whenever something didn’t go his way. You’d always assumed Carter was just goading at your boyfriend, but maybe he had a point.

Breaking away from your usual group of friends, you divert your attention to your younger brother who was now sitting alone at the long green and silver table on the other side of the hall.

“Morning Carter,” you greet, sitting down next to him at Slytherin table, quiet chatter filling the Great Hall.

“Didn’t want to sit next to your boyfriend covered in pumpkin juice?” Your brother asks innocently, taking a sip from his own pumpkin juice filled glass.

“Mm. I saw.” You respond dryly, side eyeing your brother as you filled your plate.

“It was an accident.”

“I’m sure. So, how are your tutoring sessions going? Mum and dad gonna be on you next holiday?” You ask.

“No way. Theo has me getting top marks on all my assignments. He’s the best,” Carter brags.

“Yeah? You seem to like him. A lot more than Cormac that’s for sure.” You comment.

“Well duh. Theo’s like, one of the coolest blokes in Slytherin, and Cormac is one of the biggest tossers in the whole school. Bit of an insult to even compare Theo to that wank-cloth to be honest.”

You struggle to maintain your composure, holding in your laughter, and before you’re able to probe your brother any further, a plate is plonked down across the table.

“Carter! My favorite little second year!” Enzo says brightly, taking his seat.

“Enzo it’s too early for you to be this cheery. No one is that cheery at 7:30 am let’s reel it in,” Mattheo groans, sitting down on Carter’s other side.

“Theo!” Carter exclaims as the brown haired boy takes his spot across from you.

“What’s up little man, how’d that charms exam go?”

“I got the top score in my class,” your brother responds proudly as you gaze across the table at his tutor.

Theo really was handsome.

Quickly shaking the thoughts from your head, you force yourself to zone back into the conversation.

“I remember being in second year charms,” Mattheo was saying.

“No you don’t, you never showed up,” Enzo snorts.

“Shut up pretty boy.”

“Speaking of second year. Where are your friends in second year?” You interrupt, suddenly realizing that your brother was in fact surrounded by a whole gang of sixth years.

“They’re all scared of them,” Carter shrugs nonchalantly, gesturing towards the boys around you.

Mattheo’s jaw drops open in mock offense.

“I can assure you y/n, we are prime role models for young Slytherins.” He says.

“Didn’t you and Draco just get a detention for sending a hoard of rabid pygmie puffs after a group of firsties?” Carter asks, taking a large bite of his eggs.

“Minor details.”

“Right. Note to self, Theodore is the only one of you to be left alone with Carter. Got it.” You joke, almost missing the tinge of red in Theo’s cheeks as he ducks his head, suddenly very interested in his breakfast.

“That’s fine with me. Theo skips class all the time too, so I won’t be missing much,” Carter says matter of factly as he proceeds to drown his pancakes and eggs in syrup.

Now it’s Theo’s turn to drop his jaw at the young boy.

“Little snitch, you said you wouldn’t bring that up,” he says, throwing a bit of his toast at your younger brother.

Carter just laughs, tossing sticky egg right back.

“That’s on you for trusting a twelve year old, I can’t be held responsible for my actions, I’m just a kid,” he replies, sticking his tongue out at his tutor.

You watch the scene before you play out, a smile growing on your face.

“Oh he’s going to make Slytherin house proud,” Mattheo says with a grin as Theo proceeds to throw a bit of muffin back your brother’s way.

“Woah woah woah there Theodore, leave y/n’s brother alone,” a voice says from behind you.

You turn to see Cormac approaching the table, dried pumpkin juice still staining the front of his shirt.

“Piss off Cormac,” Mattheo tells him, a scowl quickly taking over his face.

“Don’t think I will. Can’t stand by and watch my girlfriend’s brother get bullied,” he says, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. His gesture might’ve been nice a week ago, but at the moment you wanted to hurl.

“Right. Like you weren’t the one who locked Carter in a broom closet the other day you bloody bastard. How’d you like a replay of our little encounter?” Enzo sneers, going to rise from his seat only to be sat back down by Theo.

“I’m sorry, you did what?” You ask, fury rising in you as you whip around to face your boyfriend-for-not-much-longer.

“Relax, it was just some man to man bonding,” Cormac says, giving Carter a pat on the head. Carter smacks his hand away.

“Salazar Cormac, are you always this stupid, or do you just show off when we’re around? Get lost,” Theo says, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Yeah! If I wanted to hear from an asshole, I’d just fart!” Carter adds, glaring up at the boy with crossed arms.

With a scowl, Cormac sneers at the group of Slytherin boys glaring right back at him before giving your shoulder a tug.

“C’mon then y/n. You shouldn’t be hanging out with this filth anyway,” he practically growls.

You frown at the Gryffindor. What on Earth had made you like this boy? The mix of sheer embarrassment, disgust, and rage sends a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck of Cormac. We are so, so done. And my brother isn’t filth.” You snap, abruptly turning your back on him.

You’re met with a satisfied smirk on Theo’s face as the other boys jeer at Cormac as he stomps away.

“Bloody hell, who let me stay with that tosser for so long?” You mutter, stabbing at one of your sausages.

“Not to say I told you so, but I totally told you so,” Carter says through a mouthful of egg.

“Point very well taken.”

The five of you eat in silence for a moment, but when you look up, you see Carter mouthing something furiously at Theo who looks mortified.

“What’re you two on about?” You ask, breaking the silence as you glance back and forth between the two boys.

“Yeah Theo, what are we on about?” Carter says pointedly at the older boy.

Mattheo and Enzo, now also fully invested, look between Carter and Theodore as well, a sinister grin spreading across Mattheo’s face as realization grows.

“Oh I think I have a good idea of what they’re on about,” he says, taking on a playful tone.

“Don’t you start.” Theo grumbles.

You look blankly between the boys as they seem to be having a silent conversation amongst themselves.

“Well this has been lovely really. So glad you all got a front row seat to the drama that is my life, but I think it’s time I head out,” you say finally when none of the boys speak up.

As if coming to a stalemate, four heads turn to you, and you leave to a chorus of “Bye, y/n’s and see you laters.”

You found yourself once again seated in the library, scribbling away on your DADA assignment. It had been a bit over a week since you’d dropped Cormac and you’d forgotten how bloody nice it was to not be constantly dragged down by him when studying. As you continue to scratch away at your parchment, a loud thud shakes you out of your focus.

“What’s up sissy?” Carter says, his bag joining his large stack of books on the table as he makes himself comfortable in the chair next to you. “Matt over here!” He whisper tells, gesturing frantically to the curly haired boy who was quickly making his way over to you.

“Ah y/n! Perfect timing! Been such a pleasure chatting with you for the last several hours eh?” He says, sliding into the seat across from you.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“Huh?”

Just then, a miffed looking Theo bursts through the library door, eyes quickly zoning in on Mattheo and your brother.

“What did you two do?” You hiss as the boy begins stalking over.

“Nothing!” Carter says quickly.

You glare at the two boys.

“We might have allegedly started a small fire in the dorms,” Mattheo grumbles, trying to look invested in one of the random textbooks that had been strewn across the table.

“You did what?” You whisper yell across the table.

“Allegedly!” He emphasizes, still not looking up.

“I know it was you two. And also probably Enzo.” Theo states unamusedly, walking up to the table, arms crossed.

“Us? We would never! We’ve been here studying with y/n this whole time!” Mattheo says, looking very offended for someone who was in fact guilty of what Theo was accusing.

“Yeah?” Theo asks. “You’ve been here reading Advanced Love Spells in the third edition?” Theo says, raising an eyebrow as he gestures to the book Mattheo was holding.

“Uh, yeah,” Mattheo responds.

“Really? Because it’s upside down,” Theo replies, snatching the book and turning it right side up before giving it back to Mattheo.

“I enjoy a challenge.” Mattheo retorts, doubling down as he snaps the volume shut.

Theo just dead stares his friend for a moment before sighing and slumping into the last remaining seat.

“I’m not covering for you if Snape asks me who did it.” He says eventually.

“But you won’t snitch?”

Theo glares at his friend.

“Don’t insult me.” He grumbles. Then turning towards Carter. “I’m advising to Snape that I begin tutoring you in potions too before you burn the entire castle down,” he tells him.

Carter just grins bashfully.

“Great! Now that that’s all settled, I’ll be off. Y/n, pleasure as always. Boys.” And with one last nod, and a sarcastic salute, Mattheo is off.

“One day, I’m going to murder him, and drop his body in the Black Lake,” Theo says under his breath.

“Alright. Which one of you is going to explain?” You ask, looking sternly between the two boys you were left with.

Before Theo has the chance to get a word in, Carter shoots up.

“I just remembered that I need to get a book for our tutoring session tonight! Be right back!” He exclaims, running off.

“Well I suppose that answers that,” Theo mutters.

“Are my parents going to get an owl? And if so, how bad will the howler be on a scale of 1-10?”

“I don’t think they’ll be owled. If anything, Matt will take the fall for the three of them,” Theo assures you.

“So what exactly happened?”

“Not entirely sure, but from what I gathered, Matt and Enzo decided that they would be able to help your brother with his potions homework, proceeded to forget about the cauldron sitting on an open flame, and then had the audacity to be surprised when a stack of parchment caught fire because Matt’s side of the dorm is a mess.”

You purse your lips.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m so sorry. You share a room with them don’t you?”

Theo nods his head.

“How’d you know that?”

“Carter hasn’t shut up about you since you started tutoring him.” You reply with an awkward laugh. “Thanks for doing it by the way. And for letting him hang around you lot. He seems so much happier lately.”

A small smile appears on Theo’s face.

“We like having him around. Kid’s a spitfire. And an excellent alibi. Not that we’d ever get him into trouble,” he says quickly.

You let out a light laugh.

“I’m very sure that Carter would find trouble with or without you lot. He tends to go looking for it.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you wait for Carter to return, and you try to turn your focus back to your assignment. It’s significantly harder to concentrate you find however, with the handsome Slytherin sitting across from you fingering idly through one of the textbooks he’d picked up.

“Someone’s deep in thought.”

Theo’s voice jolts you into the present, and you blush knowing he’d definitely caught you staring.

“Just annoyed with this bloody DADA assignment,” you mumble, hoping he hadn’t realized just how long you’d been staring.

“Did it earlier. It’s a bit of a snooze.”

You nod your head in agreement.

“Would you want to work on it together sometime?” He asks suddenly, words practically tumbling from his mouth.

You look up at the boy in surprise.

“Um, I’m not sure a really need a tutor…” you say trailing off.

Theo gives you a lopsided grin, shaking his head a bit.

“I meant as a study date.”

You feel yourself blush for what feels like the thousandth time.

“Oh. Then yes. I’d like that.” You say, holding back the huge grin that was threatening to take over your face.

“I’m back!” Carter sings, skipping his way back to the table and effectively ending the moment. “Was that enough time for you to ask her out? I can only stare at those dusty shelves for so long before I start going crazy.”

Your jaw drops as you turn to your brother.

“Did you really just set me up?”

“Duh. Christmas is only a few weeks away, and you clearly don’t have good judgment. I can’t risk having to see some stinky loser over break! And Mattheo said Theo’s had a crush on you since forever, so it was really a win for everybody.”

Now it was Theo’s turn to look embarrassed and offended.

“You didn’t need to tell her the last bit,” he hissed at your brother.

Carter just shrugs in response.

“This is what you two get for putting a twelve year old in charge of your love lives.”

“Carter, I don’t think either of us put you in charge of our love life,” you tell your all too satisfied younger brother.

“Well you should’ve. I got better results in a couple weeks than you two did in sixteen years.”

And that’s a wrap! I know I strayed from the rec a tad bit, but hopefully I did your request justice🫶🏽 Anyway, live laugh love Carter🙌🏽

[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.”

[sweetteainthesummerx]

⋆·˚ ༘ * oh, my, my, my ⋆·˚ ༘ *

nhl masterlist !

pairings: quinn hughes x childhood friend!reader, jack hughes x platonic best friend!reader, quinn x artist!reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff

summary: you and quinn throughout the years, and how you fall in love <3

song: mary's song (oh my my my) by taylor swift

word count: 4.4 k

notes: I love lake quinn sm :)

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

our daddies used to joke about the two of us, growing up and falling in love, our mamas smiled, and rolled their eyes

"oh, she's so tiny!" ellen cooes, cradling the little bundle of pink, "and she has your eyes, birdie."

your mother smiles at the nickname her college friend had given her freshman year, when a bird had pooped on her head during a girl's night out.

it stuck (literally), and almost 10 years later, as her best friend holds her babygirl, she's reminded of everything they'd been through together.

"congrats, man. the first girl in the family!" jim slaps your dad on the shoulder, the two men smiling at their wives.

"oh, she's just precious." you yawn, and all of the adults are reduced to an awwing mess.

quinn toddles over, chubby toddler legs still unsure. he lands on his butt half a foot away from ellen, who lifts him up with the hand that wasn't holding you.

"look, quinny."

quinn reaches out a finger towards you, and jim is about to chide him when your tiny little fist locks around it. his wide eyes widen even more. you gurgle happily at him, and for the first time in a while, he goes completely still, enraptured by the baby in front of him.

"oh." your father whispers.

"well, that's your son-in-law now," jim laughs.

"hey, don't count out jack! they're closer in age, after all."

your mom rolls her eyes, as ellen snorts, "let's not pre-write our kid's futures before they're five, please."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

i was seven and you were nine, i looked at you like the stars that shine

"y'know, birdie," ellen starts, "the boys might be right."

"no, they cannot eat four pb and j's and then go to the carnival-"

"no, not the little ones!", ellen laughs, "our husbands. they might be right."

"oh, that? the whole son-in-law thing?" your mom grins, as she watches luke chase after you with a worm.

the two women are silent and thoughtful as you - screaming at the top of your lungs - duck behind quinn, who sternly tells off his little brother. your sticky hands lace with his, naturally, albeit a bit awkward the way only kids can be.

you absolutely adore quinn. he's your protector, the one you turn to more often than not. jack is your best friend, and you remind her of that often. luke is your baby brother, the one you coddle and fuss over.

and the boys adore you just as much; jack plays pirates with you all day, Luke follows you like a puppy, and quinn...

he's staked a claim on you that makes your mom laugh, but worry a little when your older and you inevitably find someone who isn't him.

it never occurred to her that he might be the one.

"oh my god." your mom says as your dad walks in with jim.

"ha! see? I know I put money on my son for good reason." jim says gleefully, and quickly pipes down at ellen's dirty look.

"jack is also your son, man." your dad shakes his head.

"seriously? you guys made bets on the future love lives of your prepubescent kids?"

"birdie, it's just a joke!"

he eats his words as quinn leads you through the door. you're in tears, a nasty scrape on your knee. he's got your hand cradled in his.

ellen and your mom fawn over it, how brave you were, but all you could remember is how quinn held your hand the whole time.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back when our world was one block wide, i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

when you're ten, you almost have your first kiss.

you're going through a phase, really, when all you would wear were your overall jean shorts, a big t-shirt and your red converses. you have little pen drawings all over your shoes and shorts.

now, when you look at the photos from back then, you cringe a little at how lanky and young you look.

you're with the boys at one of the neighbouring lake houses, a couple of other girls and a few guys too.

everyone there lived on the same block, so it was odd that you hadn't all hung out together before.

quinn can tell you're uncomfortable around the other guys, who are loud and frankly very obnoxious. even his 12-year-old self can tell.

he tells you that you can all leave and go get ice cream near the boardwalk, but you refuse. you're 10 already, you can handle a few new strangers.

somehow, spin the bottle is brought up and you find yourself sitting cross-legged as one of the older girls - who's kind and much more grown than you - tellsdyou how to spin the bottle.

your hands shake and the backs of your knees are slick with sweat, but you spin anyways. you want to seem cool and older too.

you watch the root beer bottled patter as it turns, the ting, ting sound dissonant with your thumping heart.

it lands on quinn.

your quinn who knows all of the words to the spider man movies, who gives the last popsicle to you and lets you tuck your feet under his thighs when you get cold.

this is a disaster, you think, because you don't know how to kiss! are you supposed to use your tongue? you almost gag at the thought.

quinn can see your very apparent panic, and the only thing on his mind was to make it of away.

he wants to hold your hand, but when you turned nine you had decided that boys had cooties, so you refused to touch him or his brothers.

"...we don't have to," he offers, scratching his neck. one of the boys boo, and you flush.

you shook your head, "i want to."

he smiles, shy and boyish and your heart goes into overdrive.

his face matches yours in colour as he scoots forward awkwardly, cupping your face the way he'd seen his dad do to his mom.

as he leans forward, you burst into tears. if you kiss him, and he's disgusted by your kissing skills - or lack thereof - he wouldn't be your quinn anymore.

you run out embarrassed, leaving quinn's hand outstretched and the older girl from earlier confused and worried.

you think that you had ruined it all, but later that night when quinn offers to take you to get ice cream and lets you get two scoops, you know nothing can tear the two of you apart.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the creek beds we turned up, two A.M. riding in your truck and all I need is you next to me

the year quinn turned 16, he gets his boating and drivers license.

when the first real day of summer - he doesn't count the days until he sees you and the lake house again - starts and he finds you making eggs and bacon in the kitchen, he gives you an offer.

"hey, chickie." he tugs playfully at the string of your apron. jim had given you that nickname because of your mom's. chickie, like a baby bird. jack liked to call you chicklet, and Luke followed suit.

the adults think you've outgrown that name, and only call you chickie sporadically.

it's become special for you and quinn, sacred even,

"hi, quinny." you answer in the same tone, swatting him with the spatula in your hand.

"give me a piece of bacon and i'll take you out onto the water. i'll even let you drive a bit when we're far out." he murmurs as you turn the stove off.

"really?" you squeal, and he winces jokingly.

"yes, yes! finally!" you throw yourself at him, letting the older boy catch you around the waist. he grins into your hair, his cheek muscles unused by the seasons without you.

"okay, kid. pipe down. where's my bacon?" he grumbles, but he smiles when you turn around to fix him a whole plate.

you forget in all of your excitement that he doesn't even like bacon.

it's pathetic, really, but he missed you. he still does even though you're less than a foot away from him, salting your scrambled eggs.

he finishes his food faster than you do, and leaves to set up the boat with your promises that you would hurry.

he's excited; he hasn't seen you since christmas, and then, he had to share you with jack and luke and his parents too.

that year, you and jack had become decidedly closer, and quinn knows he has to establish that boat time was for you and him only.

so when jack and luke both follow you onto the boat, whooping and screaming, he's pissed.

and on top of that, he has to drive the boat while you and jack banter and threaten to shove each other off of the moving vessel.

it wasn't fair: you're his person. you guys did gas station runs together, you always looked at him with sad puppy eyes when you were cold.

he'd always grumbled and give you his sweatshirt when you refused to bring a jacket and ended up shivering. you always begged to braid his hair when the sun was at it's highest and there was nothing to do.

so yeah, excuse him if he was mad that your time together was interrupted by jack and luke of all people.

so when you walk up to him, hair messy and wearing nothing but your bathing suit and one of his old hockey jerseys, he tries his best to ignore you.

"quinny!" you exclaim, nudging his shoulder, and once more when he doesn't answer.

he glances quickly at you, but one look is enough to make his chest squeeze in that way that it started to do since last summer.

you had always been beautiful, but you were starting to be seriously gorgeous.

your hair is windblown, skin tanned and freckled with eyes bright from the sheer novelty of it being summer again.

you'd started to fill out more; the tiny bikinis you - and he - loved made something hot tug in his lower stomach.

tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow in the way that always makes him soften like butter, "I thought you were gonna let me drive!"

"ask jack to teach you," he snarks, and regrets it immediately at the hurt on your face.

his chest tightens, like someone has taken the hurt on your features and shoved it between his rib cage so he couldn't breathe.

the two of you don't talk for the rest of the day.

quinn feels like an asshole, and he really doesn't like how you refuse to sit in your normal spot next to him during movie night, instead opting to tuck yourself between the edge of the couch and luke.

and the salt on the wound was when you don't laugh at the stupid jokes he makes for you, especially.

his mom asks him what he had done when he goes to get more popcorn in the kitchen.

"what? why did you automatically assume I didn't something?" he asked, offended.

"because, that girl sticks to you like a magnet," ellen smooths his temple, "and because no one makes you smile and talk like she does. you've been silent all day."

the next night, he shows up at the door of your room in the lake house your two families shared.

he knocks, and pokes his head in, "chickie?

you're at your table, drawing again like you always were.

he keeps the little sketch of him you made last summer in his wallet, tucked under the picture of all of the hughes boys and you.

you ignore him, and he flops on your bed. the floral sheets your mom bought when you were 11 smells like you. he tries not to be creepy and inhale - at least too noticeably.

"gas station run?" he asks.

you finally spare him a glance, "quinny, it's past one o'clock, and it'll take at least 20 minuted to get there."

"please? I really want chips."

you sigh, ever the martyr, and agree. neither of you mention how the hughes stock up enough snacks to last at least 2 months the beginning of every summer.

the battle of who cracks first kept on, until finally, on the way back from the gas station, quinn sighs, "I'm sorry.

you frown, clearly not impressed, "I don't even know why you're sorry."

"god, this is embarrassing-"

"quintin, i swear-"

"i wanted the boat ride to be just us two!" he exclaims loudly.

there was a beat of silence, only the chirp of crickets that crept in the tall grass you could hear through the open windows of jim's truck.

the light on the radio shined, 1:59 AM.

"what?" you ask, a little confused and very much flustered.

"i missed you, chickie, and jack is always monopolizing your time! you're my person and-"

"are you jealous?"

"what?"

"oh my god, you are! you're jealous!"

"no!" he splutters, grateful that it's pitch black outside, because he can feel his ears heating up.

you laugh, tugging at one of his curls, as he grumbles something about not letting you eat any of his salt and vinegar chips.

"quinny?" you ask a little while later, when he's pulling back into the drive way, "y'know that you're my person too, right?"

you look soft and sleepy, under the light of the car, in one of his hoodies and sleep shorts.

he swears he turns into liquid in the drivers seat.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

well, i was sixteen when suddenly, i wasn't that little girl you used to see

"I wouldn't worry about that, chicklet." jack throws his arm around you, and you roll your eyes at the many girls starting to glare at you.

"I don't know what you're talking about." except you do.

there's a girl flirting with quinn, and she's pretty. she's got tattoos on her arms, and she's tall, almost tall at him.

you take a break from the self-deprecating comparison between yourself and her to admire quinn for one second.

he's gotten so tall and broad, all the signs of boyhood gone, except when he smiles that special smile for you. the one when his eyes get all squinty and he bares all of his pretty teeth.

your heart twists, because he hasn't smiled at you like that all summer.

you don't know what you did wrong. maybe he's outgrowing you. he'll be a college man next fall, and you're still in high school.

he's got the whole world in front of him, and well, you couldn't blame him if he didn't want to settle for you.

you realize your feelings for him the beginning of the summer.

or you uncover them, because if you're honest, they've always been there.

and right now, you're wearing your heart on your sleeve, because he looks so handsome in a tight black t-shirt and shorts, a backwards cap on his curls.

his biceps look huge, and between the teenage hormones and the two shots in your system, you want to climb him like a tree.

the more romantic side of you wished you had your charcoal and parchment, so you can copy down his likeness for when your old and greying and you can't remember how he looks illuminated by the moon and bonfire.

"yeah, sure. you're clueless." jack snorts, and he makes his way to the drink table at the party you're at.

you pass by Luke, who's preoccupied by a girl way too old for him, and go sit closer to the fire.

you're mad.

you're mad because you've dressed up real cute, in a tiny black tube top and denim shorts.

you're mad because your hair is curled the way quinn likes it.

you know that for a fact because every time it looks like that, he comes up behind you to wind his fingers through a strand. it was a hassle, and he won't even look at you.

"what's a pretty girl like you doing alone?"

it's a boy with mussed, brown hair and a nice smile.

he's cute. peter, or pierre, he introduces himself. he reminds you a bit of the boyfriend you had first semester of sophomore year.

you've had boyfriends, and quinn has had his relationships, but summer was sacred.

that's why you felt ill when you flirted with him, not because quinn was a mere 20 feet away, starting to glance over and frown.

quinn has always been a jealous motherfucker; you'd give it 5 minutes before he comes over.

you try not to gloat when he comes over in 2.

"hey, chickie. time to go." he tells you, taking you cup and winding an arm around your waist.

you roll your eyes, pushing him off, "no, I'm good here,"

quinn crosses his arms and puffs out his chest, biceps flexing in front of you.

the boy smiles - you've already forgotten his name, something p - and shrugs at quinn.

he's mad now, you can tell, but you wrap you're fingers around the other boy's elbow to egg him on.

"oh, for- that's it. c'mon."

suddenly, your feet are swept out from under you, and you're thrown over his shoulder.

you frown, realizing that you're in the air.

"hey!" you protest weakly as people turn to look at you. quinn continues his trudge all the way to where he's parked his dad's truck and dumps you on the hood like you weigh nothing.

"what are you doing?" he asks, eyes dark, "that guy is no good-"

"no! what are you doing?" all of your frustration pools in your throat, and embarrassing tears are starting to prick at your eyes.

"you won't even look at me all summer, you're flirting with some girl and you get mad at me? you're being such-"

he shakes his head, looking as exasperated as you feel.

"do you know how hard it is-" he breathes out shakily, "how difficult it is to control myself around you?"

"what?" you ask, heart beating in your ears, "what?"

"i have been in love with you since i was 12, chickie." his tone is begging, and so are his eyes.

he looks pained, and you want to relieve it so, so badly. but he still won't touch you. he's hovering away from you, like he has for the past month.

"i love you, and you see me nothing more than a brother, like how you see jack. and it hurts, here," he rubs the heel of his palm between his ribs, "to know that you'll never want me the same way."

"quinn-"

"no, let me talk. I've spent the past 6 years pining after you. I've tried to move on, but all...nothing compares to you. I want you so bad, chickie, but..." he turns from you, head in his hands.

now, if you weren't like 3 beers and 2 shots deep, you would realize that he can't really go anywhere because you're quite literally on the top of his car.

but drunk you is clearly a dumbass, because you think he's trying to leave. so you tell him what's actually on your mind.

"i love you!" you blurt out.

he turns slowly, "what?"

"i love you too. i thought you didn't want me because you're leaving for college, but i want you so bad, please-"

the next thing you know, he's between your legs, so warm and solid, pulling you in by your cheek like during that spin the bottle game 6 years ago.

you let him kiss you for real this time, you let him push up your shorts to feel more of your skin, you let him lick into your mouth.

he pulls away, and you whine, tugging him in again.

he laughs, which makes you laugh in turn, and you slide down the hood as you giggle. he catches you, because he always does.

"i love you." you tell him, and he flushes, nuzzling into your neck.

"say it again," he demands, just because he can.

"i love you, my quinny." you coo, and he wants to crawl into your skin and settle there forever.

"i love you too, chickie."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

oh, my, my, my

"told you so." Jim tells the rest of the parents.

the four of them - the weirdos - are on the second floor, leaning on the bannister as you make breakfast with quinn.

well, you make breakfast and he's distracting you.

he's got his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the back, and the two of you waddle like a pair of penguins around the kitchen gathering ingredients for pancakes.

you're giggling, and he's got a half-smile on his face.

you look so happy together than ellen and your mom are ignoring jim's gloating.

they are even kind enough to ignore the exchange of money between the two men, after all, your dad had bet on jack and lost.

"i can't wait for their wedding."

"hold on, now!"

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

a few years had gone and come around, we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

you're on Quinn's lap, content and warm. the two of you had gotten up to watch the sunrise, first day of the summer at the lake house.

it's nice to have everyone in one place again, the two of you coming from vancouver, the boys from new jersey.

the past couple of years had been hard; a year or two long distance, until you went to study architecture at UBC after quinn had been drafted.

this year, 24 and 22, you finally get some rest and the promise of settling down more.

quinn's captain, and you have a good job that lets you work remote and do what you love.

and more importantly, the two of you are always together.

"babe?" quinn asks, running a hand down your arms, "c'mon, let's go to the dock?"

you don't protest, just happy to be at your childhood lake house.

he leads you there, like he always does.

"pretty." you stare out at the water, orange and pink sky meeting in the still horizon.

"yeah." quinn gives you a smile, rare for anyone else.

but he has always smiled for you, and you greedily hoard them in your memories.

"got something to show you," he pulls his wallet out, the two pictures in the clear flaps catch your eye.

one is a polaroid of you and your boys. quinn is 15, jack is 14, you're 13 and luke is 11. all of you are lanky and awkward, wrapped around each other and grinning ear to ear.

the other is also a polaroid, taken by ellen a year or two ago, when all of your parents came to visit your Vancouver apartment.

quinn's arm is around your shoulders and you're clinging to his side, one hand curled around his waist and the other on his chest. you're smiling at the camera, and quinn is smiling at you.

"cute," you tell him, but he digs a finger into the little pocket.

"fuck," he swears when whatever he's looking for doesn't come out.

"here, let me," you offer. you retrieve a piece of thick parchment with your smaller hands.

it's a sketch of quinn you did when you were in your early teens.

it's not great, you have to admit. the lines aren't smooth like how you sketch now, but the ink and paper is in pristine condition.

"quinn...you kept this?" you ask softly, oddly emotional.

when you look at him, he has a weird look on his face. he scratches his neck.

you stare at each other for a moment, the familiarity of your love almost stifling in the cool morning air.

and then he drops down on one knee.

you start crying, immediately.

that sets him off, and the two of you are blubbering as he tries to get through the speech he wrote in his notes 7 months ago after he got the ring and you were in the shower.

he tells you he loves you, how he's never going to leave you, that you're going to build a life together, just like how you've done everything together since you were kids.

you believe him, because your quinn is nothing if not earnest and steady.

you let him slip the simple ring onto your finger, and he lifts you up into strong arms to kiss you.

you're so deliriously happy that your teeth clash with his in a smiling kiss.

your families cheers from the porch, and you laugh, watery and heart full.

jack runs up first, swinging you around and clapping his hand down on quinn's shoulder.

Luke kisses your cheek and hugs his older brother, as ellen and your mom hug you together.

jim wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead, "thanks for helping me win the bet, chickie." you chuckle, reaching for your dad next.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle, our whole town came and our mamas cried, you said I do and I did too

the wedding takes place a year later, in a small winery near the house, because ellen and your mom refused to let you have the wedding on the dock.

this was your compromise, because it's a small affair.

your dad walks you down the aisle to quinn. you're smiling, like there's a hanger in your mouth because you're just so happy.

he cries when he sees you, and so do the other hughes boys.

you hear your mom and ellen, tears meeting shaky smiles on their faces.

your own college friend, your birdie, fixes your veil and holds your bouquet.

sweet promises are exchanged in your vows, and when you have your first kiss as mr. and mrs. hughes, all of your loved ones cheer.

quinn sweeps you off your feet and bridal carries you to a change room so you can switch into your reception dress.

he sees you later as jack, who volunteered to be the mc, announces you guys as mr. and mrs. hughes.

quinn's eyes are hot and dark as he sees your smooth skin under white lace, and whispers something into the shell of your ear that makes you pink.

you dance together, with his brothers and his dad, with your own too.

but the last dance is saved for the two of you.

"i can't wait to grow old with you, chickie." he whispers romantically.

"you'd make such a cute old man," you tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

you laugh, and so does he.

forever sounds real good to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[arminsumi]

HE'S GOT A RING ON HIS FINGER

GOJO さとる + fem!reader

A married dilf Gojo wants you to have his babies! He might not be married for much longer though

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : smut/18+ content : infidelity, dilf!Gojo, cheating kink, reader cheating on bf, breeding kink, unprotected sex, daddy kink, dirty talk

Gojo Satoru has a ring on his finger.

You're reminded of all the shit his wife has said to you when you feel the cool metal of his ring against your skin... as he's pinning your wrists together above your head and stuffing his nasty, cheating cock into you from behind while his wife is god knows where and his kids are at a friend's sleepover.

His friends like you. His kids like you. His marriage is falling apart. Gojo wants to have another baby but his wife doesn't, and he happened to come across you — who has a filthy breeding kink, who he met at some soccer event long ago and now has snaked into his home to become a close family friend.

"Y'know my kids love it when you visit. Wanna be their mommy? Yeah? How about you gimme 'nother one... let me knock you up." and he's saying this before he's inside you, his words turn filthier when his fat cock is getting milked by your pussy.

His cockhead is stroking at your G-spot when he says, "Please... jus'... j-jus' take my fucking seed like a good girl, yeah? Let me get that cheatin' pussy pregnant."

He grunts and keeps pounding away at your cunt like he's a starved man, while you're babbling about how good it feels but at the same time he needs to hurry up, because your boyfriend is texting you asking where the hell you are.

So he grabs your phone and tosses it out of sight so you can't see your boy's notifications anymore. It pissed Gojo off, how dare he interrupt you and him? How dare you bother returning to him when you know no one fills your pussy quite like a man who's already fucked babies into another one. As if your boyfriend could compete.

Gojo's face turns sour, he glares at the place where you two connect; your sloppy, squelching little pussy. He's got that kitty creaming and freaking out on his cock.

"You know your boyfriend could never fuck you like I do... you n-need an older man to treat you right, don't you? F-fuck... ah, god baby you're squeezing my cock so perfectly... you're gonna milk out my cum. Fuck. Stay right there and let me fill you. You want daddies babies, don't you? Tell me... tell me you want it. Tell me you want my babies."

As if you could squirm when he's fucked you out on his bed for well over two hours now.

All he needs to tip over the edge is for you to say, "Yes daddy! Gimme your babies!"

And then he's groaning loudly, rolling his eyes back and feeling his whole body shudder as he dumps a fat, sticky load of baby batter deep inside your quivering hole. He stuffs himself as deep as he possibly can so that you feel every inch of that nasty, cheating cock. The skin at the base wrinkles up as his balls squish against your clit.

He's heaving and panting and gasping with you. You're thinking about how his cock is so much bigger than your boyfriend's, and he's thinking about how much tighter your pussy is than his wife's.

Gojo's gone silent, smirkingly admiring how good you look with that afterglow on your face. He's imagining how you'll look with that pregnancy glow one day.

You're gonna look so pretty when you're pregnant with my kids.

He slides his cock out, kisses your shoulder and massages your numb legs.

Gojo's phone goes off, and you ask who it is. He takes one look at the caller ID, and a look at his seed bubbling and spilling out your pussy hole, and says;

"Oh. It's just my future ex-wife."

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.