#i feel like some of you need to grow up and pump the breaks on the hate parade

[pluvioloulou]

Ya'know, if you take your shipping/fanon goggles off, you'd realise canon isn't as bad as you lot make it out to be

Just enjoy the show that's being handed to you cause you can't change the work of the cast and crew

[sigilslvt]

JEALOUSY • DRABBLE

☣︎ Summary: The men all have their reasons for getting jealous around you. But how exactly do they react when they feel the threat is much more real? SURELY, they’re rational, right?

Includes: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Choso, Sukuna, and Nanami

Tags: fem! reader, friends to lovers, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, teasing, bulging, pussy eating, choking, breeding, praise, overstim, possessiveness, threatened gun violence, toxic possessiveness, car sex, dry humping, rough sex, squirting, pining, premature ejaculation, love bombing, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, true form sukuna, slight angst

WC: 13.1k

A/N: I cackled writing Choso’s, my poor baby is too precious 😩💜

༒︎ Gojo Satoru ༒︎

You pull into the gas station because, once again, your car is on its last leg. Satoru’s been absolutely useless this entire car ride, lounging like some kind of overgrown housecat, sunglasses crooked on his nose, humming the most obnoxious song he can think of just to get under your skin. His long legs are kicked up on your dashboard like he’s king of the world.

“Finally, a pit stop,” he says, stretching dramatically. “I was starting to think you’d just run us out of gas for fun. You know, to create a bonding moment.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, putting the car in park. “Stay in the car. Not that I have to tell you that.”

He snickers, not even looking up from whatever weird little game he’s playing on his phone. “Sure thing, sugar. Let me know if you need me to heroically pump the gas for you. I’ll try not to make it look too easy.”

You ignore him because giving him attention only makes it worse. You grab your wallet and step out, the cold air biting at your face as you swipe your card and get ready to fill the tank as quickly as possible so you can return to the cocoon of warmth that is your car. You’re in your own little zone, minding your business, when a voice breaks through the quiet.

“Hey there! Need some help?”

You glance up, startled, and see a guy walking over. He’s got that effortless, small-town-boy charm, the kind of guy who probably calls everyone “ma’am” and knows how to fix a tractor. He’s smiling, too— a little too widely, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s taking the pump right out of your hands.

“Oh, I had it,” you say, trying to be polite, but this guy is already on a roll.

“Nah, no worries,” he says, grinning. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have to pump their own gas. It’s just not right.”

You blink at him, caught somewhere between confusion and being impressed, because— wow. Is this really happening?

You glance back at your car, hoping Gojo hasn’t noticed, but as soon as your eyes land on his, you know you’re doomed. He’s sitting up now, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, staring at you both like he’s just been served the juiciest gossip of the year. His grin is growing and you’re sure he’s ready to put on a show.

Before you can stop him, he throws open the car door and steps out like he’s been summoned to the stage. He stretches unnecessarily— arms up, head tilted back, like he’s on the cover of a sports magazine— and then saunters over, hands in his pockets, looking way too pleased with himself.

The gas station guy looks up, noticing Gojo for the first time. His smile falters just a little. “Oh, uh… hey. Didn’t realize you had someone with you.”

Satoru’s already grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he says, waving a hand. “I’m just her boyfriend. You know, the adoring, perfect, doting one who pumps her gas all the time.”

You groan. “Toru—”

“What? I’m just saying, it’s cute that you’re trying to help, bud,” he says, turning back to the guy with a grin so wide it’s almost terrifying. “But this is kind of my thing. I know she’s just the sweetest, but she’s taken.You get it, right? Yeah, you get it.”

The poor guy blinks, clearly unsure if Satoru’s joking or about to start something. “Uh, yeah, no problem,” he mutters, handing the pump back to you like it’s radioactive. “You two have a good day.”

“Oh, we will!” Gojo chirps, giving him a little salute. “And hey, nice try, man. Better luck next time.”

The guy doesn’t even look back. He practically sprints back to the safety of the gas station, and as soon as he’s gone, you turn to Toru, crossing your arms and pursing your lips in annoyance.

“What the hell was that?”

“What was what?” he asks, feigning innocence as he leans casually against the car. “I was just making sure no one stole my job. You know how much I love pumping your gas.”

You gape at him. “You’ve never pumped gas in your life!”

“Exactly,” he says smugly. “That’s what makes this moment so special. It’s a sacred duty.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “You’re so insufferable.”

“And yet,” he says, draping an arm around your shoulders, “you love me. Isn’t that wild?”

“Whatever. I’m gonna get a snack. Want something?” you roll your eyes and start walking toward the station.

“I’ll come with, I’m craving something sweet.” he smirks with a look in his eyes that you can’t quite discern.

You raise a brow and walk with him, entering the gas station with the goal to grab a bag of chips and water, but the second you head for them, your hand is being trapped by Satoru’s and he’s tugging you toward the bathroom. You shoot him a look of confusion and annoyance, but he pays it no mind as he yanks you inside, closing the door behind you and pressing you against it.

“Toru, wha—”

“Told you I wanted something sweet, sugar. Bend over a little f’me.” he instructs, turning you so you’re facing the door. Your palms lay flat against it, trying to use it as leverage to turn yourself, but he presses your head to the door, too, his strong palm mushing your cheeks to it, sucking his teeth in disapproval.

“You’re insane, w-we’re in a gas station,” you try to reason with him, but his hand’s already shoved up your skirt and peeling down your panties. “Satoru, seriously…”

“Y’telling me to stop? She’s cryin’ f’me, though, I think she’ll be so sad if I don’t give her what she wants,” he purrs, getting to his knees and littering kisses on the fat of your ass. “C’mere, baby.”

You’re lost to him the moment he stuffs his face into your already dripping cunt, bucking yourself back against him and into the feel of his greedy tongue slipping between your folds and down, down, down to your clit. You can feel him smirking against you when he draws out a long shaky whine from your lips between your panting and while normally his cockiness would annoy you beyond belief, it instead turns you on more. And yet—

“Wh-hah— why couldn’t this wait until we got to the hotel?” you ask, nails scraping down the door when he plunges his tongue into your twitching hole.

He pulls away for a moment, spreading your ass to spit a glob of saliva between your folds and slurp it back up while sucking your clit. No answer. You huff and tremble, unsure of how long you’ll be able to keep yourself standing if he’s just gonna keep eating you like a man starved.

You try, you really do, to keep your voice down, but when his tongue hits that spot inside of your gummy walls, his hand between your thighs and thumb working on your clit, you can’t help but let your moans slip out. And oh, does that make him even more unrelenting. His thumb draws circles on your clit quicker and with more pressure, his tongue fucking into you as rough as can be. 

Your eyelids flutter closed, breathing labored as you feel that sweet sweet build up that you love so much. He knows what comes next and while normally, he’d see you to the end, this time he stops, earning a frown from your pretty face.

“Wh-why’d y—” you start.

“Y’mine, say it.”

“What? Toru, what’s—”

“Say. It. Say y’mine… say y’love me and I’ll make you cum so good, sugar, I promise.” he all but whines.

You don’t know why it needs to be said or what’s going on with him, but you’ll be damned if you let your orgasm escape you. With every second that passes, it runs from you, so you give him what he needs. “I’m yours, baby. I love you.” you coo.

“Again.” he huffs against your cunt, making your knees weak. He’s so close. You’re so close.

“I love y— hah,” your breath escapes you when he delves his tongue back into your pulsing hole. “Fuuuuck… I love you, I love you, I l— fuck!” your cunt tries it’s best to grip his tongue, but he fucks it into you with more force as you cum on it, losing strength in your legs and slumping down while your brain goes dumb with pleasure.

He holds you up, tongue slipping out of you and back to your clit, his head shaking side to side while he licks at your clit, overstimulating you beyond belief. All you can do is cry out for mercy, palms battering at the bathroom door as you raise your white flag.

With that, he frees you from the sweet torture, massaging your thighs and resting back on his ankles. “I’m pumping your gas from now on.” he huffs.

Coming back to your senses, you realize why he pulled this stunt off. “Satoru. Were you… jealous!?” you chuckle in disbelief.

“I’ve got nothing to be jealous about, it seems. What with the ‘I love you, I love you, I—’” he mocks you while standing up and you smack his arm.

“Sh-shut up.” You huff, pouting as he puts your panties back in place, dolling you back up and kissing your shoulder.

“Nope. But you’re gonna wish you had when the poor guy out there’s blushing redder than red.” he teases. Your eyes widen and you cover your mouth with your hand when you realize he had to have heard everything.

“You’re insane.” your voice is muffled by your hand.

“Insane’s one word for it,” he smirks. “I like to say I’m just crazy for you.”

Not long later, you’re climbing back into the car. Satoru follows, flopping into the passenger seat with a contented sigh like he’s just won a marathon.

As you pull out of the station, he stretches again, kicking his feet up on the dash like he owns the place. “You know,” he says casually, “you should really thank me. That guy was totally about to ask for your number. I saved you from a very awkward situation.”

And you could quite literally kill him.

༒︎ Geto Suguru ༒︎

The room is buzzing with conversation, a polite undercurrent of tension that doesn’t escape you. Cult leaders and their followers mill about in finely tailored clothes, exchanging calculated smiles and empty pleasantries. You’re trying your best to look engaged, but your thoughts keep drifting to Suguru.

He stands a few feet away, surrounded by a small circle of curse users, his tall frame commanding attention with ease. His black robes flow elegantly around him, his long hair tied back neatly. The faint smirk on his face, the calm way he speaks— it all oozes confidence. Control. Every now and then, he glances in your direction, his sharp eyes softening for just a moment before flicking back to the conversation.

You’re nursing a drink near the refreshment table when someone sidles up beside you.

“Ah, I was hoping I’d get the chance to meet you,” a smooth voice says.

You turn to see a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit, his polished appearance almost too pristine. His expression is warm but calculated, and his sharp eyes are already fixed on you. Takeda. You recognize him instantly— leader of a large, influential cult. Non-sorcerer, but powerful in his own way.

“Good evening,” you reply, forcing a polite smile. They have their role to play, Geto tells you, so you make sure to keep appearances with non-sorcerers despite their usual poor attitude toward you.

He smiles wider. “Good evening, indeed. I couldn’t help but notice you standing here all by yourself. It seems almost criminal for someone as lovely as you to be left alone at an event like this.”

You feel your cheeks warm at the unexpected compliment, a small flush creeping up your neck. “I’m not alone. I’m here with my boyfriend,” you say, gesturing subtly in Suguru’s direction.

Takeda follows your gaze and chuckles softly. “Suguru Geto. Of course. I’ve heard much about him.” His attention snaps back to you, and his smile turns almost wolfish. “I must admit, though, I’m surprised. I didn’t think someone so… captivating would end up with a man who seems so creepy… Besides, I’m sure he’s always so busy. Too busy to truly appreciate a beauty like you.”

Your face heats further, and you stammer, “He’s not too busy. He’s just—”

Before you can finish, he takes your hand in his and presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles. It’s old-fashioned, deliberate, and enough to leave you momentarily stunned. Not in awe, but in pure shock. He’s bold, you’ll give him that.

Your breath catches, and you feel a wave of heat rush to your face. You try to pull your hand back, but his grip is firm— not unkind, but enough to make you falter. You can’t ruin appearances by hurting him, so you allow it, praying he’ll give up soon.

“A pleasure meeting you,” he murmurs, his lips still ghosting over your skin.

And then you feel it— the air shifting suddenly. A heavy, familiar presence fills the space around you, and Takeda finally releases your hand. You glance over your shoulder to see Suguru a few feet away, his dark eyes fixed on the two of you as he approaches.

“Takeda,” Suguru says smoothly, his tone light but carrying a weight that makes your stomach flip because you know better.

Takeda straightens and flashes a smile that’s far too confident. “Geto. What a pleasure to see you,” He gestures toward you. “I was just introducing myself to your lovely partner. She’s quite… enchanting.”

Suguru’s lips twitch, curving into a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m aware.”

There’s a pause, the kind that feels too loud in the quiet. Suguru’s gaze flickers briefly to your hand before returning to Takeda.

“I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable,” he continues softly.

Takeda chuckles nervously, clearly unsure of how to respond. Geto’s not usually the type to be confrontational in public. It’s normally all smiles and politics for him, so this has Takeda stunned. “I meant no disrespect, of course.”

Suguru hums thoughtfully. “No disrespect… Of course not.” He tilts his head slightly, his smile sharpening. “But you’d do well to remember your place, Takeda. Admiration is one thing. Touching, however…” He trails off, his tone turning razor-sharp, dark eyes honing in on the poor man’s. “That’s dangerous, especially for someone like you.”

Takeda falters, his polished demeanor cracking for just a moment. “I— I’ll keep that in mind,” he mutters before excusing himself and retreating into the crowd.

As soon as he’s gone, Suguru turns to you, his sharp expression softening slightly. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just looking at you in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“You seemed… flustered,” he says finally, his voice quiet but probing.

Your cheeks burn, and you look away. “I wasn’t, he just caught me off guard,” you mumble.

Suguru steps closer, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Are you sure? Because from where I was standing…” He pauses, his voice dropping. “It looked like you didn’t mind it.”

“Suguru—”

“Did you like it?” he interrupts, his tone impossibly soft, almost vulnerable. “A weakling holding your hand, kissing it like that… Did you enjoy it?” 

Your heart twists at the faint frown tugging at his lips, the rare glimpse of uncertainty in his usually composed expression. That’s when you recognize the look in his eye. It isn’t anger, it’s fear. Insecurity. Things you never expected to see from him.

“No,” you say quickly, reaching for him. “Of course not. I could never, baby.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze flickering over your face as if searching for any sign of dishonesty. Finally, he exhales softly and takes your hand in his, his thumb brushing over the spot where Takeda’s lips had been.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, his voice low but firm.

He leads you down a hallway, wanting to be away from the noise and chatter of the convention. When he pushes open the door to an empty room and pulls you inside, the silence feels almost deafening in comparison to everything on the outside.

Suguru closes the door and turns to face you, his dark eyes heavy with emotion. Without a word, he cups your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Say it,” he whispers, his voice raw.

“Say what?” you ask softly, your hands resting on his chest.

“That you’re mine,” he breathes, his forehead pressing against yours. “That you wouldn’t leave me for some monkey.”

Your heart aches at the quiet desperation in his tone. “I’m yours, of course I’m yours.” You whisper, your hands curling into his robes. “Always.”

The next thing you know, his lips are melting yours, soft at first, but quickly growing more insistent. When he pulls back, his breathing is uneven, and his eyes are darker than ever.

“Again,” he all but whines, his lips trailing down to your jaw. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Suguru,” you repeat, your voice racing as your heart squeezes. “Only yours.”

He exhales sharply, his hands sliding down to grip your waist. “Good,” he whispers, moreso to himself. “Good… because I need you.”

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses you again, this time with a desperation that feels like he’s trying to erase every trace of Takeda’s touch from your skin.

His nails dig into your sides, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, tasting all that you have— all that you are. He’s needy, moving to hoist you up and hook your legs around his waist.

Your dress rides up your thighs and he wastes no time gripping at the fat of them, subtly rolling his hips into you in a way that tells you he may just be doing it subconsciously. Gasps are shared between your lips as he kisses you a few more times before moving to swipe his tongue up your neck, stopping just under your jaw and sucking a big fat hickey into the crevice.

It feels so good that you almost don’t notice the way his hands are working their way down, down, down to your ass, pulling you into him with every roll of his hips. You feel how hard he is even through his robes, unable and unwilling to stop yourself from sliding the top of his gojogesa off his broad shoulders. You’re dipping your head down to pepper kisses all over his shoulder while he marks you up, your nails leaving marks of their own on his skin from how hard you’re gripping him.

You know what this is. Know what he needs. You’d be a fool to stop him from taking it. “Sugu… here.” You tell him, emphasizing your words by rolling your hips in tandem with his.

You swear you hear him growl as he tears his lips from your throat and grips your underwear on one side to tear them off, your eyes widening at the action. Suguru’s normally a calm, calculated man, even when he makes love to you, everything is suave and he’s always in control, but now? Now, he’s become someone entirely different. Someone needy. Someone eager to prove a point. To stake a claim.

“Here, angel.” Is all you hear before your mouth is stuffed with your own underwear and– when did he whip his dick out? You’ve got no idea, but it’s plugged into you before you can react, a long and grateful groan just spilling from Suguru’s lips like he’s finally laying in bed after a long day of hard labor. He’s home. Your head falls back against the door and he uses the opportunity to attack your neck again, littering the skin with kisses, licks, and the occasional bite.

He’s got no rhyme or rhythm in his thrusts, he simply ruts into you with a force that has the door shaking, the metal bar rattling and making your stomach lurch with fear at the fact that it could so easily be pushed for you two to end up on display for everyone. The fear falls away soon, however, replaced with nothing but pleasure when he’s targeting that wonderful gummy little bullseye that makes you go dumb on his cock.

Your eyes start searching for something in the back of your head, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth and soaking your underwear as your shaky moans are muffled by the fabric. And you don’t know when it started, but your ears tune into Suguru whining the same thing repeatedly. “Mine, all mine, mine, mine, mine—” again and again and again with every punctuated thrust targeting your poor cervix.

Your nails rake down his back, hoping to find some sort of balance to compensate for the fact that your legs are beginning to ragdoll, no strength left in them as they flop by his sides with every thrust. Except, you don’t have to worry. No, his grip on you is bruising, he never wants to let you go.

And you wish you could see his face in this moment. See how he looks when he’s so adamant about proving it to himself that you’re his. Before you know it, you’re snaking a hand into his hair and tugging his head back, earning a needy little whine from his puffy lips before he’s looking at you. Oh, is he looking at you. Like you’re the world. Like you’re salvation. His brows are drawn tightly together, a pout on his lips that tells you he’d be nothing without you. God, you wanna kiss him. Wanna tell him a million times over that you’d never even think of another.

The look on your face tells him exactly what you want, you think, because in the next instant, he’s tearing the underwear from your mouth and crushing his lips into yours. His thrusts have rhythm now, his hips fucking into you with urgency. Every time his thick cock slips past your puffy folds, you’re inched closer, oh so closer to cumming and your stomach draws tight at the feeling. He’s chasing both of your orgasms, not once missing that spongey little spot that makes you see stars as he pounds you into the door, your voice sounding out to God knows how many people are in the hallway while you kiss him, your drool now slipping down his chin.

You hear him groan into the kiss as his hips start to falter– he’s close. And yet, while his rhythm is lost, his force is worse. Every thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge until you’re right there. “I love you,” he whines against your lips before breaking away and letting his head fall back. “I love you, I love you, I. Fucking. Love. You.” He punctuates the last repetition with a thrust for each word, cumming on the very last one along with you, who couldn’t help but cum at the words he’s never said before.

You two had been together for a year. A whole year and not once had Suguru ever uttered the words. You always knew he wasn’t an emotional man, so you never expected to hear the words. You felt it, though. His care for you. It was in his actions. How he never forgot an important date, how he would always bring home food or a treat or flowers for you, how he loathed being away from you for any given reason. And yet, the words still shock you.

He ruts into you a few more times before he stills, nothing to be heard except for your breaths shared between each other until his eyes go wide– perhaps in realization of what he’s just said, and he kisses you. Softer this time. More sure of himself. Like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders now that he’s confessed.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, his hands tightening on your thighs. “Don’t let anyone else touch you like that again,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. Not angry, not upset, just… needy.  “I don’t care who it is. I won’t stand for it. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I just can’t bear to see that again.”

You smile and offer a tired chuckle, brushing his hair back from his face. “Y’know, for someone usually so calculated and knowing, you sure are stupid,” you shake your head softly. “I love you, too. More, actually.”

His lips press against your temple, and he exhales slowly, the tension in his body finally easing. “Not possible,” he murmurs again, his voice soft. You can hear his smile in it. “Nobody’s ever loved anyone like I love you.”

༒︎ Toji Fushiguro ༒︎

You aren’t sure if dragging Toji to your high school reunion is a brilliant idea or the worst decision you’ve made all year. On one hand, you know he can charm the socks off anyone when he wants to, all cocky smirks and lazy grins that send shivers down your spine. On the other hand, he doesn’t exactly thrive in situations that involve niceties and polite small talk—especially with people he doesn’t give a shit about. Still, you’ve convinced him, mostly because you want to show him off. He’s hot, and he’s yours. What’s the point if you can’t gloat a little?

Toji is surprisingly well-behaved for most of the evening. He nurses a glass of bourbon with his usual swagger, leaning against the bar and throwing you looks that tell you that he’ll be waiting for you to make this worth his while later. He even manages to avoid scaring off too many of your old classmates, though you catch the occasional side-eye when he’s not so subtle about telling them to fuck off. Everything’s going smoothly.

That is, of course, until he notices you talking to him.

You don’t mean to bump into your ex-boyfriend. Really, you don’t. But there he is, standing near the drink table with the same easy grin you remember from your teenage years. He calls your name, and before you can stop yourself, you’re smiling back and walking over. Toji’s gaze burns into your back the entire way.

“Wow, you look amazing,” your ex says, his tone warm but casual. It’s just an observation— a compliment between old friends, but you can just feel the way Toji’s teeth grind from across the room.

“Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself,” you reply, keeping your tone light. The conversation flows easily, filled with harmless reminiscing about old high school antics. Nothing romantic. Nothing serious. Just memories of embarrassing pranks, favorite teachers, and the god-awful cafeteria food.

But you know Toji. You don’t have to look to know he’s watching, his sharp green eyes narrowing every time your ex laughs or steps just a little too close. You can practically hear the internal dialogue: “Who the fuck does this guy think he is?”

Then your ex does it. The thing you know is going to push Toji over the edge.

He hugs you.

It’s quick and friendly, a casual embrace to say goodbye. But as soon as your ex’s arms wrap around you, you feel your body being eaten up by your boyfriend’s shadow. You pull back quickly, about to turn to Toji to defuse whatever storm is brewing, but it’s too late.

He moves quickly— silent and deadly. One second, he’s leaning against the bar. The next, he’s standing behind you, his presence towering and suffocating. His hand rests on the back of your neck, deceptively casual as he leans in close.

“I dunno why yer touchin’ her, pal,” Toji drawls, his voice low and dangerous, “but don’t let it happen again.”

Your ex blinks, clearly startled by the sudden shift in atmosphere. “I… sorry? I was just saying goodb—”

Toji’s hand moves and you worry he may actually hit the poor guy. “Oh, shit.”

“You gonna say goodbye, then get the fuck outta here,” Toji says, his grin sharp and feral as he subtly lifts his sweater just enough to reveal the gun tucked into his waistband. “Before I decide you don’t need yer legs.”

Your ex’s eyes go wide and he stumbles over himself to retreat, mumbling something about it being nice to see you before practically sprinting away. You don’t even have time to scold Toji before security is suddenly very interested in the two of you.

Five minutes later, you’ve been escorted out of the venue, Toji’s hand resting possessively on the small of your back. You wait until you’re alone in the parking lot to whirl on him.

“Seriously?” you hiss, smacking his arm. “You pulled a gun on him?!”

“Relax, doll,” Toji says, his grin infuriatingly smug. “I didn’t even take it out.”

You groan, stomping toward the car. You reach for the passenger door, but before you can open it, his arm shoots out, blocking your path.

“Nah,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “Yer sittin’ in the back with me.”

“What, am I in trouble now? Gonna spank me?” you ask sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Toji doesn’t answer. He just opens the back door and shoves you inside, sliding in next to you and shutting the door behind him. You cross your arms, giving him a pointed glare. It doesn’t take long before he’s sulking.

He leans back against the seat, legs spread wide, and huffs like an overgrown child. “Wasn’t jealous,” he mutters.

You snort. “Sure you weren’t.”

“Ain’t funny,” he grumbles, glaring at you.

You can’t resist pushing him just a little further. “If you’re not jealous, then you won’t mind if I go back inside to grab his number. Y’know, for old times’ sake.”

His head snaps toward you, his jaw tightening. In one quick motion, he turns, caging you against the seat with his arms. “The fuck you just say?”

“You heard me,” you say, smirking. “If you’re not jealous, it shouldn’t bother you.”

Toji’s eyes narrow, and the tension in the car shifts again, but this time it isn’t anger. It’s something else entirely. He leans in until his nose brushes yours, his voice dropping to a low growl.

“Ain’t about bein’ jealous,” he says, his breath warm against your lips. “Ain’t nobody else touchin’ my girl. Don’t care what reason they have.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you closer as his lips ghost along your jawline. His touch is possessive, his grip firm enough to leave no room for argument. You can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine.

“Toji…” you start, but he cuts you off with a low chuckle.

“Nah, you’ve been mouthin’ off thinkin’ yer cute,” he says, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Time to shut that pretty mouth o’ yours.”

He's enjoying himself, towering over you in the confined space of the car, the sunlight streaming in from the windows only highlighting the wolfish grin that spreads across his face.

“You’re so—”

"Hm?" He hums, his hand already snaking down your side, easily slipping under the hem of your dress as he plants a kiss onto the side of your neck. "Y' got somethin' t' say, doll?" 

His fingers dance on your skin, inching closer and closer to the spot he knows will make you weak in the knees. He's toying with you, getting a kick out of your restraint as you try to formulate words again. But before you can finish even a syllable, he cuts you off.

"Save it, sweetheart. Was gonna be nice 'nd all when we got home t’night, but you had to go and run that pretty mouth with yer ex." He growls lowly in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “So while yer getting yer brains fucked stupid, I want you t’remember… this is on you.”

With a rough grasp, he flips you onto your stomach in the backseat, your dress riding up your ass as he yanks your panties down with a swift tug, the cool air hitting it and making your hole clench around nothing. His dick is hard and straining against his pants, pre seeping through to form a dark spot. The anticipation of what's to come has your breath hitching, heat pooling between your legs. He leans over you, the weight of his body pressing down onto yours.

He’s rutting against your ass, one hand sliding up to toy with one of your nipples while his other hand massages your hip. God, if you could see the needy little look on your face right now, then he’d finally get you to understand just why he’s so addicted to you. You’re just so gluttonous for him. Always wanting more, more, more. And of course, he’s always willing to give.

But right now isn’t the moment for giving. No, he needs to take. To take and take and take until there’s no more left of you to give to anyone but him. Always him. He backs away just enough for him to unzip his pants, his cock springing free. His hand finds it immediately, stroking himself in slow, teasing motions, hard length throbbing against your bare ass. There's a devilish grin on his face as he utters, "Gonna show ‘er how much she needs me."

Without waiting for a response, he aligns himself with your sobbing cunt, teasing your folds with his thick head just swiping back and forth and mixing his pre into your skick. He groans at the contact, his hand gripping your hip tighter. Suddenly, with a swift thrust, he plunges himself deep, his girth stretching you so mind numbingly good that you fear you may just pass out. The thing is, he’s barely in, but the sensation is already overwhelming, causing you to gasp and buck your hips.

He wishes you knew how fucking good you feel. Wishes you knew that whenever he fucks you, that tight ring of resistance tries so hard to push him out. That is, until he’s fucked his fat tip into you a few times, because then you’re practifally sucking him in. He knows the stretch is a lot. Knows you’re sore hours later without fail and yet, you still beg for more. Just like now.

Words are failing you, but your look is enough. You want more. Need more than just his tip. You wanna be broken in. And so he does. He feeds you inch after inch of him, sitting up and pausing at the halfway point to admire the way your cunt looks swallowing him so eagerly. He grasps at the globes of your ass, jiggling them and biting his lower lip at the God granted sight.

His free hand moves to the back of your head, fingers snaking into your hair before he grips tightly and brings your head up so he can press your face into the window. And just light that, he fucks the rest of himself into you roughly, grunting.

"Fuckin’— take it," he rasps out, taking a brief moment to adjust to the feeling of your tightness around him, unable to resist a little moan of his own. Then, he starts moving. Slow and punishing at first, then picking up speed with the same punishing force. Each thrust is precise and purposeful, perfectly hitting that spot inside you that makes you feel fuzzy. He's unabashedly vocal too, grunting and groaning with each delicious slide in and out of your wetness. "Fuck... y' take my cock so good..." he compliments, pushing your face harder into the back window. 

Easing up on his grip on your waist, he rolls his hips, grinding against your ass before pulling out for just a moment to slap his tip against your folds, watching as your cunt twitches and then thrusting back in again. His actions are deliberate and controlled, meant to stir you up and drive you to your limit. 

"Please baby, please, please, please..." you moan helplessly, your words swallowed up by the sounds of your bodies slapping together and his grunts of pleasure. But he merely chuckles darkly, gripping your hip and pressing your face against the window harder as if to anchor himself and punish you at the same time, his thrusts never faltering. 

"Y' can gimme more than that," he teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans down, teeth nibbling at your exposed neck. 

He slows almost to a stop, but the slight shallow thrusts still feel so overwhelmingly good you think you’re gonna go insane. “Y’really think she could live without me? Mmm mm, no, she needs me. I’m the only one who can stuff this greedy little pussy the way she needs to be stuffed. Isn’t that right, baby? Say it f’me.”

“F-fuck! Toki, gonna—” SMACK!

“Not talkin’ to you, princess. Talkin’ to her.” He delivers a pointed thrust into you to emphasize the fact that he’s genuinely talking to your cunt in his pussydrunk state.

Your sure he’s left a permanent handprint because of how hard he spanked your ass. The sting that lingers where his palm landed makes your cunt twitch and ache around him, which he considers to be answer enough. “S’what I fuckin’ thought. Atta fuckin’ girl, yes baby.” He groans, quickening the pace ever so slightly and beginning to pull you back into him to meet his thrusts.

“Talkin to an ex, y’must have wanted to get yerself fucked stupid, hm? Is that what you wanted? To be fucked like this?” He’s talking, but you can tell it isn’t for actual answers, no, it’s more to himself. He’s fucked out. So close to the edge.

The thrusting quickens, his hot breath fanning over your ear. "Cum f' me, doll," he commands, his voice dropping an octave, "show me how good I make y' feel. Only me. And then I’m gonna breed yer cute cunt so good." With that, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, aiming for that spot inside you that will unravel you completely.

That’s when you finally let loose, the coil inside your tummy snapping and letting you feel so much pleasure that you’re moving your ass back into him with a force that’s unmatched, just swallowing him deep into you over and over again. And that does it for him— his cum spurting inside you and filling you so good.

He kisses you so hungrily you feel you may just lose your breath entirely and pass out. His hands are holding you in place so you don’t fuck back onto him, because he knows if you did, he’d break you.

Toji leans back, smirking at the sight of you, his thumb brushing your swollen lips.

“You done throwing your little tantrum?” you tease, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

He glares at you, though there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re real fuckin’ funny, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.” And deciding to drop the bombshell now, you lean back against the seat and say casually, “By the way, he’s married. To a man. They have two kids.”

Toji freezes, his expression shifting from smug to incredulous in seconds. He blinks like a cartoon character in shock, his brows furrowing. “What?”

“Yup,” you say, your grin widening. “Your big, scary display of dominance? Totally unnecessary.”

He huffs, running a hand through his hair. The look on his face is so priceless you wish you could brand it into your memory. “Tch. Coulda fuckin’ said somethin’ sooner.”

“And miss all the fun?” You laugh, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Before you can say anything else, he’s on you again, his hands roaming as he mutters, “Gonna make you pay for makin’ me start a scene.”

You laugh, the sound cutting off into a gasp as his hands find their mark. “I made you start a scene? Oh, this I gotta hear.” You say, your voice breathless but still teasing.

“Keep talkin’, doll,” he says, his grin turning wicked. “See where it gets ya.” And then his lips are finding yours again. Just like that, the argument is forgotten, lost in the haze of his possessive, consuming affection.

༒︎ Choso Kamo ༒︎

The mall is crowded, loud with the hum of chattering voices and echoing footsteps. It isn’t your favorite place to hang out, but your best friend had begged you to come along. Somehow, Choso ended up tagging along too, though you weren’t sure why. He wasn’t exactly the mall type, after all— too quiet, too detached from the bustling energy of human spaces like this.

You glance over your shoulder at him now, and there he is, just like you’d expect. He’s trailing a few steps behind, hands shoved into the sleeves of his robe, his dark eyes drifting lazily over the crowd. His usual stoic mask is firmly in place, making him seem untouchable to anyone passing by. But you know better than that. Beneath the unapproachable aura, Choso is awkward— painfully shy even. He’s still figuring out how to interact with humans, still trying to understand what it means to live in a world like this.

And for some reason, he’s decided you’re his safe space.

You smile to yourself, turning your attention back to the task at hand. Your friend had told you they’d meet you at the bookstore, but they’re running late, so you decide to wander into one of the nearby shops to kill time.

Choso doesn’t follow. You assume he’s probably going to find a dark corner to tuck himself into. 

What you don’t realize is that he does follow. At a distance. He’s used to watching from the sidelines, content to let you move through your world without interference. He doesn’t mind, in fact, he learns from watching how you interact with people, animals, media, and the likes. He learns about the world, but more importantly, he learns about you.

His eyes are on you now, but just seconds later, they shift. There’s a new focus, a new target. Him.

The guy behind the counter at the little boutique you walked into. He’s tall, clean-cut, and obnoxiously friendly. At first, Choso thinks nothing of it. It’s not like he can stop every stranger from talking to you. But as the guy’s gestures become more animated, and his laughter gets a little too familiar, something shifts in Choso’s chest.

He wishes he could hear whatever it is he’s saying that has you so giddy. Wishes he could just— wait, what?

The guy leans forward across the counter, his hand brushing yours as he hands you something, maybe a receipt, maybe a bag, Choso doesn’t care. Because what he does next is what hammers the nail in the coffin. His hand moves to the top of your head and he ruffles your hair, making you laugh. It’s the casual intimacy of the gesture that makes his stomach churn. He knows he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. He knows. But he can’t help the way his jaw tightens, or the way his fingers curl into fists in his sleeves.

You’re still smiling at the guy. You’re laughing. And he hates it.

His mind spirals before he can stop it. The scene plays over and over in his head, each time twisting into something worse. What if you like this guy? What if you’re into someone who can flirt with ease, someone who doesn’t stumble over their words or overthink every little thing?

What if you don’t want him?

Choso feels a sharp pang in his chest, like something fragile has cracked. He’s been so careful, so guarded with his feelings. He thought he could keep them tucked away, safe from rejection, safe from ruining this. But now? Now he feels them slipping through the cracks, raw and unmanageable.

He looks away, leaning back against the wall outside the store. His heart’s racing, though he doesn’t know why. It’s not like he has any claim over you. You’re your own person, free to talk to whoever you want. He’s just… He’s just the weird half-curse with no idea what his place is in this world who follows you around and doesn’t know how to say what he feels. But what if he did say it?

The thought hits him like a lightning bolt, sudden and electrifying. He’s scared, sure— terrified, actually, but the idea of staying silent is worse. He doesn’t want to lose you to someone else, not without at least trying.

So he waits.

When you finally walk out of the shop, you’re holding a small bag, a content smile on your face. You spot him instantly, standing off to the side like he’s been there the whole time.

“Hey, sorry that took so long. They had some really cute stuff in there,” you say, holding up the bag as if to explain.

Choso doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flick to the shop behind you, then back to your face. He doesn’t ask about your purchases. Instead, he asks, “Who was that?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Who?”

“The guy you were talking to,” he says, his tone as flat as ever, but there’s something behind it—a tension you can’t quite place.

“Oh, him? That’s just my friend from school. He works here part-time,” you explain, shrugging. “I didn’t even know before now.”

Your words are casual, but they allow Choso a wave of relief. That relief is short-lived, however, replaced almost immediately by a surge of determination. This is his chance. His moment to say what he’s been holding back.

“Can I… talk to you for a second?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You tilt your head, curious but not concerned. “Of course. What’s up?”

He gestures for you to follow him, leading you away from the bigger crowd and toward a seating area deeper in the mall that’s less populated. Once you’re there, he turns to face you, his hands still buried in his sleeves.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He’s searching for the right words, but they don’t come. Instead, what comes out is raw and unfiltered.

“I thought you liked him,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blink, surprised. “What? No, Choso, I told you, he’s just a friend.”

He nods, but his gaze drops to the floor. “I know. It’s just… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” you ask gently.

He looks up at you then, his dark eyes searching yours. “This. Any of this. Being around people. Trying to figure out how I’m supposed to feel, how I’m supposed to act.”

You wait, sensing there’s more he wants to say.

“But with you… it’s different,” he continues, his voice steady despite the nerves etched into his expression. “I don’t feel lost when I’m with you. I feel… human.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t interrupt.

“And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you,” he says, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “I like you. I… I think I’ve liked you since the moment we met. I just didn’t know how to say it— didn’t know what it was. B-But I do, now.”

You stare at him, his confession hanging in the air between you. For a moment, he thinks he’s made a mistake. That he’s crossed a line he can’t uncross.

But then you smile.

Not just any smile— the kind of smile that makes him feel like the world isn’t so complicated after all.

It’s all you can do because his confession doesn’t catch you off guard, not really.

You’ve always known.

“Cho,” you say softly, stepping closer, “I know. I’ve known for a while.”

His eyes widen slightly, his lips parting in surprise. “You… knew?”

You nod, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah. You’re not exactly subtle, you know. But I didn’t say anything because I wanted to give you time. Time to figure out what you wanted, how you felt.”

He’s silent, staring at you like he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or mortified.

“For what it’s worth,” you continue, your voice warm, “I like you, too. Just as you are. You don’t have to change or be anyone else for me, Choso. I like you for you.”

Something in his expression shifts. It’s now a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something more raw. His gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and when he speaks, his voice is barely audible. “Can I… kiss you?”

The question catches you off guard, not because you don’t want him to, but because of the way he asks it, so tentative and earnest.

“Of course,” you say, your tone gentle but steady.

But he hesitates, his eyes darting to the small crowd around you. His voice drops lower, almost shy. “Not here. Can we… go somewhere else?”

You bite back a smile at how endearing he looks, his cheeks tinted pink as he avoids your gaze. “Come on,” you say, nodding toward a quieter hallway where the restrooms are tucked away.

He follows you like a shadow, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie as he keeps his head down. When you reach the single-occupancy restroom, you push the door open and step inside, holding it for him as he follows. The door clicks shut, and the noise of the mall fades into a distant hum.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the tension in the small space thick enough to cut with a knife. Choso shifts nervously, his hands twitching at his sides. “I… don’t know how start,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you reply, your smile soft and steady. “Just follow my lead.”

You step closer, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. He freezes for a moment, his dark eyes wide and uncertain, but when you lean in, his lids flutter shut.

The kiss starts slow, tentative, his lips warm and soft against yours. But as you deepen it, something shifts. It’s like a switch flips inside him, and suddenly his hands are on your waist, gripping you like you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

He grows bolder with each passing second, his fingers wandering over your arms, your back, your hips, your ass. There’s a desperation in the way he touches you, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you all at once. Finally, he pulls you flush against him, his entire arms wrapped around you, one hand gripping your hip and the other on your shoulder.

You can’t help but chuckle against his lips, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. “Easy, Cho,” you murmur, your tone teasing. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face flushed as he loosens his grip, but only slightly. “I just… I don’t know how to stop.”

Your smile softens, and you press a light kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay to feel nervous.”

You kiss him again, this time letting him lead you. As things heat up, he starts to get carried away again, his hands roaming with a mix of urgency and inexperience. His kisses grow hungrier, his breath ragged as he presses closer, his body practically trembling against yours.

Suddenly his whole body stiffens and a low, unsteady sound akin to a whine escapes him before he pulls back, his face burning with embarrassment. He avoids your gaze, his hands falling away as he stammers, “I— I’m sorry. I dunno what— I didn’t want to stop, I—”

You pull back further to see a dark patch beginning to form even on the purple cloth that rests in front of his robes, realizing what happened. Your perfect Choso just came in his pants from kissing you. You can’t stay silent much longer for fear of making him more embarrassed, so you hush him gently, cupping his face and tilting it so he has no choice but to meet your eyes. “Cho, it’s okay,” you say firmly, your voice steady and soothing. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This is all new for you, and that’s perfectly fine.”

He swallows hard, his dark eyes searching yours for any hint of judgment or disappointment. When he finds none, his shoulders relax just a little.

“You mean that?” he asks softly.

You smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Of course, I do. We’ll take things slow, okay? There’s no rush.”

He nods slowly, the tension in his posture easing as he lets out a shaky breath. After a moment, he looks at you again, his expression soft but serious. “Is this… what love is?” He closes his eyes, his lips curving into the faintest smile as he leans into your touch. And in that quiet, stolen moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in its place.

༒︎ Ryomen Sukuna ༒︎

The room is dimly lit, the sterile scent of disinfectant clinging to the air. You’re lying back on the exam table, your dress pulled up over your growing belly. The monitor hums softly as the sonographer, a man with overly polite eyes and a soothingly gentle touch, adjusts the machine. He explains the process as he goes, his voice calm and warm, clearly trying to put you at ease.

Today is your first 3D ultrasound where you’ll finally get a better view of the life growing inside you. It feels surreal. You’ve had to wait until you’re 32 weeks along to get the best view, so the wait has made you antsy. Will it look like Sukuna? You? Will it smile or suck its thumb? Surely it’s too early for that, right? All of these questions are running through your mind and making your body vibrate with both nervousness and anticipation. It actually does help that the sonographer noticed and is trying to soothe you. 

You glance to the corner where Sukuna stands, his towering figure leaned protectively against the wall. His crimson eyes are locked on the sonographer, sharp and unyielding, like a predator stalking prey. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, claws tapping rhythmically on his forearm, a faint sound that portrays his growing irritation. The air feels heavy with tension; thick enough to cut with a knife. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t contribute to your current nervousness.

The sonographer prepares to squirt gel onto your belly, offering you a soft smile. “This might feel a little cold,” he says, his tone careful. “But it’ll help us get a clear image of the baby.”

You flinch slightly at the cold, and the response is immediate.

“Watch your hands.” Sukuna’s voice slices through the room, low and menacing.

The sonographer freezes, visibly startled. His gaze darts nervously to Sukuna. “I- I’m just preparing her to perform the scan, sir. There’s no need to worry.”

Sukuna scoffs, the sound dark and mocking. “Worry? I’m not worried, human. I’m warning you.” His crimson eyes narrow, radiating danger. “You’re touching my wife who’s carrying the heir to my throne. Be mindful.”

You press your palm to your forehead, exhaling sharply. “Ryo,” you say, your tone firm. “He’s doing his job. Stop scaring him.”

Sukuna’s eyes flick to you, softening slightly, but the fire in them doesn’t fully die. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The sonographer hesitates, visibly uneasy, before resuming his work. The wand glides gently over your belly, and the monitor flickers to life. He points out the baby’s heartbeat, their tiny limbs, and the way they seem to kick at nothing in particular. His voice is soothing as he explains, almost too soothing for Sukuna’s liking.

You can see that the baby has four limbs, thankfully, and it’s got a frown on it’s face, much like its father’s. Until you speak, that is. When you speak, you can see the soft smile that graces your sweet baby’s face, again much like its father’s. You feel tears prick at your eyes finally seeing your baby so clearly.

The sonographer glances at you again, his smile almost reverent. “You’re doing wonderfully. Your baby looks perfect— beautiful, actually.”

That does it.

“Beautiful, huh?” Sukuna mutters, his voice laced with venom. “Bet you say that to every woman you see. Must be part of your script. You’re just so reassuring. Well, my wife doesn’t need that. She has me. Do you think yourself better than I?”

“Ryomen.” Your voice sharpens, and you shoot him a glare that tells him you’re angry. “Enough.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his lips curling in mild defiance, but he backs off for now. The sonographer continues, though his hands move a little faster this time, clearly eager to finish. Sukuna’s eyes remain locked on him, every small movement scrutinized like a hawk circling its prey.

Finally, the scan concludes. The sonographer hands you a towel to clean off the gel, offering another polite smile. He opens his mouth to speak, but Sukuna doesn’t give him the chance.

“You’re done, right? Get out.”

The man’s eyes widen; he looks to you as if hoping for an intervention. You manage a tight smile. “Thank you for your help. Forgive my unpleasant husband,” you say pointedly, dismissing him with a polite nod.

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving the two of you alone. Sukuna stands there, still bristling, his claws twitching at his sides.

You sigh, wiping the last of the gel from your belly. “You’re ridiculous, Kuna. He wasn’t touching me in any sort of suspicious way.”

“He shouldn’t have been touching you in the first place,” Sukuna snaps, taking a step closer.

“He’s a medical professional, Ryomen. It’s his job.”

“I don’t care,” he growls, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “He was too close; too soft. Like he thought he could make you feel safer than I do.”

You sit up, tugging your dress down over your belly. “No one is trying to take your place.”

He scoffs, pacing in front of you like a restless beast. “You’re mine. No one else gets to put their hands on you like that.”

You stand, squaring your shoulders as you step into his path. “Would you rather our child go unchecked and we miss something bad? You can’t scare every single person who helps me, Ryomen.”

His eyes narrow, the frustration in them simmering just beneath the surface. “You’re too soft,” he mutters. “Always making excuses for people who don’t deserve it.”

“Soft doesn’t mean weak,” you counter, standing firm. “And I don’t need you turning every little thing into a fight. Trust me, Ryomen. I’m not going anywhere. But… you’re wrong, you know. I do need comfort. You provide safety, yes, but never reassurance. Gentleness. Maybe just… passive acceptance. I’m carrying your child. Of course I’d like to be doted on and treated with care.”

Before he can get upset again, you add, “By you. Only you. So just— please stop it with the anger and hostility. I want my child to know their father is capable of love the way I know he is.”

The tension in his shoulders loosens slightly, though the possessiveness in his gaze remains. He steps closer, towering over you, his hand coming to rest on your belly. His touch is firm but deliberate, a reminder of who you belong to.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “You. The baby. You’re my dearest prizes. No one else gets to act like they know how to care for you better than I do. I study everything, every minute detail about you and what’s to expect with the child. I suppose I’ve been so wound up with preparing myself and protecting you that I’ve gotten more hostile than usual. I… can work on it.”

You place your hand over his, meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“Get back on the exam bed.”

“What? Why? He’s finish—” he interrupts you by walking you backwards until your ass hits the edge, caging you in.

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever told you how beautiful you look carrying my heir and standing up to even me. And I’d like to show you just how much I love it.” He says, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against your neck, just below your jawline. As expected, you tilt your head up for a kiss and he indulges you, kissing you so hungrily and lifting you onto the bed.

His hands wander all over your body, his touch carrying a gentleness you’re not used to. Goosebumps raise on the whole of your body in response and you’re leaning forward into the kiss, losing yourself in it. You don’t even realize he’s hiked your dress up and removed your panties until the cold hits your slick-sheened pussy.

“Ryō—”

“I know, brat, I know.” He says, a teasing lilt in his voice as he parts from your lips to kiss along your jaw. “Come to the edge f’me.”

You do exactly that as he undoes his robes to reveal his second set of arms… and his second mouth. God, you love how freaky this man is. His second set of arms grip the globes of your ass to hold you steady as he pulls you flush against his lower mouth, his fat tongue just smearing your cunt with your slick and his saliva. 

You’ve never cared to admit that this mouth of his has always been your favorite. It’s so big that it offers more coverage, more pressure, and gets so much dee—

“Biiiiig stretch.” Sukuna warns you before he plunges his second tongue into your hole, lingering at that first ring of resistance to deliver a few shallow, but mind numbingly pleasurable thrusts before he pushes the rest of the way in; as much as he can, that is.

He uses the moment your pretty little mouth releases an ah! to kiss you again, his first set of hands slipping up your dress to find your tits. If there’s anything he’d put on top of the list of things he loves about your changing body, it’s this. How fucking thick your ass has become and undeniably huge your tits have grown. Just swelling and preparing to fill with milk to sustain his heir.

He pinches your sensitive nipples between his large fingers, making you moan into the kiss, relaxing your cunt around his tongue between you. Suddenly, you’re lifted just slightly above the table, his other hands beginning to fuck you on his tongue, his saliva and your slick just drip, drip, dripping onto the bed and floor beneath you.

“So greedy. Pussy’s always so fucking greedy…” he groans, resting his forehead against yours so you both can watch as your pussy bulges from swallowing his tongue so eagerly. It’s such a lewd sight, one you’ve undeniably grown addicted to in your time together.

Your moans mingle together and it’s then you realize that he’s now using just one of his hands to fuck you on his tongue. His other is wrapped around both of his cocks and pumping them together, ribbons of pre falling down his lengths and being smeared by his movements. You’re not even slightly ashamed of the way you salivate seeing him getting off while eating your pussy and watching himself do it. It’s so fucking filthy that you can’t help but—

“Gonna cum f’me, aren’t you? Mmmmmhm, can tell by how she’s flutterin’ around my tongue. My needy fucking wife.” He smirks, pulling you flush to him so that the widest part of his tongue rubs against your clit while he switches it up and fucks his tongue into you, faster this time.

“O-Ohmyfuckinggod!” The words come out strung together, the added attention on your clit making you see stars, your breath quickening, heart beginning to race. You lean back onto the bed using your hands to prop you up so you can get a better view.

“So nasty, beautiful.” A chuckle falls from his lips and you can’t even respond before his upper hands are just engulfing your tits and kneading, easing the pain of the swelling and pleasing you at the same time.

Then, something happens. Milk begins to drip from your right nipple and it has you both stopping in your tracks. You’d heard of the low possibility that milk can come before you give birth, but you never considered it’d happen to you. A blush of embarrassment creeps on your face and you’re about to apologize when you hear Sukuna groan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his mouth immediately latches onto your tit and he just sucks.

“S-Sukuna, fuck!” You whine, his lower tongue beginning to work your quivering pussy again, bringing you right to the edge of pleasure.

He releases your tit with a pop! and nips it gently. “Mine. Mine, mine, all fuckin’ mine, such a good Queen providing for my heir early. Gonna be such a good momma.” He praises you before beginning to suck the lactating nipple again, making you come undone on his tongue, your gooey insides clenching around his tongue, trying to stop him with how tight you are, but he’s too strong, fucking his tongue into you through your orgasm to swallow up every last bit of cum you have to offer him.

It’s not until you’re whining and your legs are limp, weak pushes against his shoulders making him release your tit and slip his tongue from your slobbering hole. He runs the tip of his tongue against your oversensitive clit just a few times before you feel him kiss your puffy folds, making your body lurch.

You watch breathlessly as he tries to suck up the milk from your poor abused nipple again, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging his face up to yours. “Y’know, you’re mine too. Forever. Don’t you forget that.” You smirk.

Something flickers in his eyes— pride, possessiveness, and a touch of vulnerability he’d never admit to. “Damn right I’m yours,” he says, his lips curling into a smirk. “But don’t think that means I’m gonna get soft on people.”

You lean into his hand as he caresses your cheek, a small smile playing at your lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he says, leaning down until his face is inches from yours. His voice drops to a rumble. “Carrying my child. Still standing by me. So brave.”

“Someone has to keep you in check,” you tease, though your voice softens with affection.

He lets out a low chuckle, pressing a possessive kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, well, let’s see if you’re brave enough to take my cocks after cumming like such a good brat f’me.” 

Your eyes widen, feeble hands trying to push him away by his chest, “Kuna! We have to leave, they’re probably traumatized!” You tell him in a hushed tone, suddenly all too aware that you’re in a doctor’s office for fuck’s sake.

“Yeah, well. They can afford the therapy.” He gives you a shit eating grin while thumbing open your cunt. “Open up real wide f’me, baby.”

And as you brace yourself, you remind yourself to make apology rounds to the staff whenever your husband is through with you.

༒︎ Nanami Kento ༒︎

Nanami Kento is tired. Not just the kind of tired you feel after a long day, though God knows his body aches from another grueling shift of paperwork and exorcisms. No, it’s deeper than that. A bone-deep fatigue that comes from too many hours spent away from the one person he’d rather be with. You.

He steps through the door, loosening his tie with one hand and holding his briefcase in the other. The house is warm and smells faintly like the lavender candle you always light in the evenings. It feels like home, but he quickly notices something’s off.

Your voice carries down the hall, light and warm, tinged with laughter. It’s a sound that usually has his shoulders relaxing, but tonight, there’s an edge of tension beneath it that prickles at him. He sets his things down quietly, toeing off his shoes, and listens.

“Yeah, it’s been kind of lonely lately,” you say, and he freezes in place, his hand hovering above the coat rack. “I mean, I get it. Nanamin works so hard and I love him for it, but… I don’t know. I just miss him. I feel like I barely see him anymore.”

His chest tightens. You’re talking about him. He takes a slow, measured breath and steps closer, rounding the corner silently.

“Thank you for keeping me sane, though. Honestly, if I didn’t have someone to talk to, I’d probably be climbing the walls by now.” There’s a soft laugh on the other end of the line. Gojo’s laugh. The realization is instant and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Gojo. Of course, it’s Gojo. His coworker, the occasional thorn in the side, the most insufferable man he knows. And apparently the one you’ve been leaning on while he’s been too busy drowning in work.

Kento feels his jaw tighten, his nails digging into the palm of his hand. He knows— logically, rationally— that there’s nothing going on between you and Gojo. You’d never betray him like that and Gojo, for all his teasing, would never cross that line. But the knot of jealousy twisting in his chest doesn’t care about logic.

You must have heard him shift uncomfortably because you glance over your shoulder, startled. Your expression softens when you see him and you give him a small, almost sheepish smile. “Hey, Kento just got home,” you say into the phone. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Nanami doesn’t miss the way Gojo’s laugh sounds out one last time before you hang up. He doesn’t say anything as you set your phone on the counter, but his silence is heavy. You know him well enough to recognize it immediately.

“Ken,” you say softly, stepping toward him. “Long day?”

He hums in acknowledgment, his gaze steady on you. It’s not cold, but there’s something simmering behind it; something that makes you hesitate. “Gojo?” he asks finally, his voice calm but with an edge you can’t ignore.

You blink, caught off guard by his demeanor. “Yeah. He was just checking in. He knows I’ve been home alone a lot lately.”

“Does he?” His tone is even, but the sharpness is undeniable.

You frown, crossing your arms. “Nanami, it’s not like that. He’s a friend. Our friend. You know that.”

“I do.” And he does. He knows it’s innocent. But that doesn’t make it easier to hear you laughing and confiding in someone else while he’s been too busy to do the same.

“Ken.” Your voice softens and you reach for him, your hand brushing his arm. “Please don’t do this. Don’t beat yourself up or think anything crazy. I’m not mad at you for working so much. I know why you do it. I know it’s for us. But… it’s hard sometimes. That’s all I meant.”

“I hate that you feel like this,” he says quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “That you have to go to someone else when I should be here.”

You step closer, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. “You’re here now,” you murmur, trying to pull him out of his head. “That’s what matters. That you always come back to me as soon as you can.”

He looks at you, something dark and conflicted in his eyes. “Is it enough?” he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Am I enough? Or would you rather have a husband who has more time for you?”

Your heart breaks at the vulnerability in his voice. “Kenny,” you say firmly, cupping his face in your hands. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. Always.”

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly and his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s hungry. Desperate. As if he’s trying to make up for all the time he’s spent away from you in one moment.

You gasp against his mouth and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding down to the globes of your ass and gripping tightly. When he finally pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll change for you,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “No more late nights. No more overtime. I’ll cut my hours. Whatever it takes to be here with you.”

“Ken, you don’t have to—”

“I do.” His hands slide under your shirt, his touch firm but gentle as he lifts it over your head and lets it fall to the floor. “I won’t let you feel like you’re second to anything. Ever again. You’re too precious to me. My world. My heart. My wife.”

His lips find your neck, trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone. He moves with a purpose, his hands exploring your skin as if to reacquaint himself with every inch of you. It’s more than physical— it’s a promise.

You tug at his tie, fumbling with the knot until he helps you pull it free and rips off his button-down. Then his hands are on you again, guiding you toward the bedroom.

“Lay back for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding but with an undercurrent of tenderness that makes your pulse race.

You obey, sinking onto the bed as he leans over you, his lips finding yours again. His touch is both reverent and possessive, his movements careful but insistent. Every kiss, every caress feels like an apology and a vow wrapped into one.

He wraps a hang around your throat, squeezing for one fleeting moment before trailing it down your chest, between your breasts, down your stomach, over your pubic bone, and finally under your nightgown to meet your slick riddled cunt.

“Shit,” he hisses, forehead resting against yours while he catches his breath, his fingers slipping back and forth between your folds, teasing at your clit in passes. “My love… I don’t want to waste any time, I just need t’feel you. Normally I’d ea—”

“I know, handsome, s’okay, I’m ready, I can take it.” You reassure him, knowing he was going to apologize for not properly warming you up.

You see, Nanami has always been one for foreplay. He could slurp up your saccharine slick for hours upon hours if you let him, but tonight? Tonight, he just wants to be one with you.

His hand finds one of yours and he intertwines your fingers, his other hand working to free his cock from the suffocating confines of his pants. When it springs free, it’s just throbbing an angry pink, beads of pre forming at the tip now that his dress pants aren't there to absorb them.

He aligns himself with your painfully empty hole, pushing past that first little ring of resistance with a long groan. The grip he has on your hand tightens, his knuckles turning white as he feeds you inch after mind numbing inch of his cock until his tip’s kissing your cervix. But you know his body well enough to know that isn’t it. And so you brace yourself for him to push in to the hilt, his mushroom tip ever so slightly bullying open your cervix as he does so, making you yelp out in both pleasure and pain.

His lips swallow your whines and whimpers, he’s determined to take everything you have to offer and give you more than what he has. The world, if you asked. His free hand finds purchase on your hip and he holds you steady as he starts to roll his hips into yours, passionately. Roughly. Like he’s trying to stuff you full of all of the love he has for you.

You moan out, reaching your own free hand up to cup his cheek, your legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his back, effectively telling him you need more. With every thrust after, you can’t help but gasp. You feel him in your lungs stealing every bit of breath you have, reddened leaking tip repeatedly hitting that bullseye that makes your mind go stupid.

“K-Ken, feels s’good! Hah!” You whine out, back arching up and pressing you flush to him. He moves his hand from your hip to wrap his arm around you, effectively holding your bottom half in the air to get deeper inside of you.

“Mine. My wife. My wife, my love, my beautiful, m-my heart.” He’s babbling, burying his head into your neck and pressing hot, wet, open mouthed kisses to it. You feel him slip his hand from yours and instead, he has the top of your head in the palm of his hand, using it to keep you still, but also to anchor himself so he doesn’t let you slip through his fingers.

“You’re going to be such a beautiful mom. Wh—hah, what kind of husband have I been by not trying to give you my babies? We can start now. After I cum riiiiight here.” He babbles, his other hand moving for only a second to press down where your stomach bulges with his thrusts.

And the look in his eyes tells you this is a promise, not just something he’s saying while fucking you. Just like the perfect little thing you are, you cum for him right then, dragging a long and frustrated groan from him.

“Pussy’s always so good for me. Milking me so good, my love…” he shudders as you cum on his throbbing length.

“Ken, f—fuh— fuck! Cum in me! Please, baby, cum in me!” You beg, making him chuckle.

“Oh? You think I’m done? No, I have to make up for lost time. Evert second I missed, I’ll make up for with an equal amount of time spent buried in this beautiful cunt of yours. Understood?”

And oh are you so incredibly fucked.

[rosenclaws]

waking up worst!Logan with some head

warnings: minors dni!! 18+ only, oral (m!receiving), throat fucking, dirty talk, fem!reader

a/n: i'm gonna be so fucking real with u guys I woke up horny and so this was born.

It’s not fair how handsome your boyfriend is. Waking up to his firm chest behind your back, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, and his rock hard dick slowly grinding against your ass.

Logan grumbles as you turn around in his arms. Still asleep as he moves to lay flat on his back. Your fingers rake gently along his bare chest and dipping below the covers. Your mouth waters as you lift the covers to see his morning wood in all its fucking glory.

He’s so sweet to you, so desperate to please. It’s time you return the favor. Crawling to the end of the bed you spit on his dick and start to stroke him. Running your thumb over the tip as he shudders. You smirk as you see his eyes flutter open as you kiss the prominent vein that runs down to the base.

“Morning handsome.” You purr as your hand starts to move faster. He props himself up on his elbows to get a better view.

“Good fucking morning to me.” He mumbles as he licks his lips. Logan groans as you dip your head down and lick from the base of his cock to the tip. Tracing a large vein with your tongue.

“Shit,” His head falls back into the pillows as you take the tip of his cock in your mouth. Spit dribbles down your chin as you try and take all of him. He’s big, fuck he’s big and thick and feels so fucking good.

“That’s it baby, you can take it.” It’s been too long since he’s hand someone pleasure him like this. Since anyone’s been willing to show him love like this. You whine as his hand grabs the back of your head, shoving you all the way down on his dick.

“Perfect fucking mouth.” He growls.

Your fingers dig into his thighs as you focus your breathing. Your nose rubbing against his coarse hair as he slowly thrusts into your mouth. You bob your head in time with his thrusts. Swirling your tongue messily, craving a taste of the man before you.

He pulls you off his dick, needing you off before he snapped which you didn't like one bit. You know he's desperate and you want him to break. To beg and take charge, take the pleasure that you're so willingly offering to him.

“Don’t give me that look.” He tuts as he grabs his cock in his hands. Giving it a few hard pumps.

"Please, don't hold back, need you so bad." You whine desperately.

Logan’s eyes grow dark at the filthy sight of you. Spit still connected to his dick, eyes watery with tears. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look this hot. He stands up and gently guides you to the floor. Grabbing your cheeks he squeezes until your lips pucker. He gently runs his cock along your lips.

"Feel how fucking hard you make me." He slowly lets go of your cheeks as he slides is back into your mouth.

"Don't know what you started," You relax your jaw as best you can, your eyes fluttering shut as you take all of him once again. Loving the heavy feeling of him on your tongue. He sighs as his thrusts get faster, harder. Pummeling your poor throat with the tip of his dick.

"Made just to suck my cock right baby? Yeah you fucking are." He shoves your head down as he comes hard in your mouth. You greedily swallow everything he gives you, not wanting to waste a drop. He relents his hold on you only a little, letting you catch your breath for a moment.

"Fuck you're too good to me, so sweet." He lovingly scratches the back of your head. He helps you stand up and lays you on the bed. His lips peppering kisses along your shoulder as his hips grind into your thigh.

"Logan.." You whine as he crawls lower and lower. His shoulder muscles flex as he kneels onto floor. A devious look in his eyes as he spreads your legs.

"You had your breakfast, now let me have mine."

[monamipencil]

study break ! | l.jh

pairings; fem! reader x jihoon | genre; smut, fluff, established relationship, minors do not interact | tw; fingering, pussy slapping, spitting, making out, reader is stressed due to exams, mention of caffeine | a/n; i very much need this lmao and to anyone who has exams coming up, you got this!!

“you said—hungh—only a few minutes!”

the wet sounds of jihoon's fingers fucking your hole fills your ears. your legs are spread wide apart and quivering under the pleasure he brings you.

“well, I didn't see you cum,” he says, though he's well aware that he's currently working on your third orgasm of the evening.

“but I did! ah—fuck, yes there!”

his curled fingers rubbing against that spongy spot has you seeing stars. you grind your clit on the heel of his palm, stimulating the little nub. your lips fall apart, letting out wanton, broken moans with no care. the only thought in your brain belongs to your boyfriend and his fingers.

“feels good?” he purrs, looking down at you with hooded eyes. you nod mindlessly with tears welling up in your eyes. the cold material of your study table feels good against your searing skin.

“good, can't have my baby get all stressed over an exam.”

you whine at the reminder of your dreaded test but it's pushed down when you feel the tight knot in your stomach. jihoon pulls out his fingers to deliver a slap to your cunt. you gasp at that, wanting more of it. he chuckles, looking at your expression.

“want more?” you nod again, absolutely no thoughts other than this god of a man.

he slaps your clit again and spits on it. a mixture of a whine and a gasp escapes your lips when he smears his spit on your folds and rubs your clit harshly.

that prompts you to sit up on your study table, hips bucking into his hands. your notes and books scattered away to avoid any damage to them.

“fuck,” he mutters, eyes skating over your glossy eyes and puffy lips. your eyes flutter shut as you tilt your head, leaning up to him. he takes the cue, and slots his lips on yours. his tongue slips past your lips with practiced ease.

his ministrations on your clit doesn't cease even as he pushes his tongue down your throat. you glide your tongue over his, savoring the warm, wet feeling of it. it only makes you more wet and horny.

your cunt throbs wildly and the knot only grows tighter. you grind your cunt into his hand, chasing the relief you so badly needed. he adds two digits inside you while continuing to thumb your clit. your moans are silenced to hums by his tongue.

and without warning, you reach your orgasm. it throws you over the edge and you curl your arms over his shoulders to prevent yourself from losing it.

his pace slows down as he gently pumps his fingers in and out of you. he breaks the kiss, pulling away to look at you. and the sight in front of him is mesmerizing.

your fucked out expression, your puffy, parted lips, your heaving chest, your quivering legs and your slick cunt. well, shit.

he hisses, feeling this cock throb under his pants but he controls himself. he did it to relieve your stress, not pleasure himself. he won't be selfish now but he can always be later.

with a kiss to your cheek, he walks to grab a towel. he presses the wet cloth on your cunt and wipes off your fluids. jihoon helps you put on your panty and shorts in your dazed state.

“sorry hun,” he presses a kiss to your forehead. “i couldn't help it.”

you chuckle, “it's fine.”

he hums and helps you sit on your comfy chair. your confused eyes follow him as he slips on his jacket and takes his purse. he flashes you a grin, “i'll go buy us some coffee and energy drinks. i'll pull an all-nighter with you, ok?”

you nod and smile, looking at him with literal hearts in your eyes. the apartment door shuts behind him and then only you allow yourself to squeal hit your head against the table.

a permanent smile etches on your lips as you flip through your study material, happy to have a boyfriend like jihoon.

[thecloudsaremyhome]

✧Yandere platonic omega emperor x teen beta reader✧

Summary: you’ve always have been having to look out for yourself no parents to comfort you or protect you no pack to vent to and to feel loved it’s always been just you. Well until you accidentally decided to pick up a job to steel from the feared emperor of your nation that is. How did you end up like this?

Tw: mentions of neglect and abuse, bad parenting and abandonment, yandere behavior and kidnapping and nesting, forced infantization.

-----------------------------------------

You've always been alone. Even when you were living with your parents they never treated you like their kid. They where never the best parents but it could've been worse, that's what you've had to constantly tell yourself.

Growing up as a beta in this society was never easy either, you have to constantly prove yourself to everyone is has never been easy to be a beta while alphas and Omega's are looked at very highly

betas are at the bottom of th food chain constantly have to fight for survival an proving themselves to people who just don't give two shits unless your a noble and a alpha or Omega people just don't care.

Half of the commoner Population is betas yet your still looked down upon by everyone for being a beta for not having Omega or alpha traits.

It's sad really I guess your whole existence in this world is to be a disappointment at least that's what your parents used.

To say they were very greedy people guess that's maybe why they sold you off to a strange to make some extra cash because they have no need for you which hurts really badly, you remember it like it was yesterday.

“Mama! Papa! Please don't leave me with them please! Come back!”

You struggle against the grip holding you back from running to your parents who are casually walking away not even sparing you a second glance as Your taken away against your will.

They didn't even seem to care for your cries for help as you put into a large carriage restrained as the people who bought you start the carriage but just before they could ride away your break free From your restraints frantically as you make Break for it out into the open streets away from the dark alleyway you were just as you run down the streets frantically trying to Lose your captors.

But before they could get any closer to your running form your captors accidentally knock over an alpha noble which results in your captors getting scolded, thankfully you managed to get away from them and loose them.

That memory till this day makes you shiver will anxiety. You've always been on edge especially years after that incident hoping they won't find you again.

Even after you were able to escape from your captors you were never able to find your parents it's like they took the chance after they sold you to flee the Capitol you grew up it.

Pathetic well you honestly wouldn't especially anything else from them they where drug addicts and gamblers but still they were your parents and the only family you had.

You didn't have any other family members or pack members well you didn't really have a Pack at all your parents were too conservative and disapproved of the thought which made you feel even more lonely than you already were.

But over time you didn't have to worry about them because they aren't here right now and you have to do everything you can to survive or try to at least.

That's why you resorted to stealing, sadly many jobs accept a 14 year old especially a inexperienced beta at that so you had to resort to stealing to survive,

you removed when you first stole from a shop vender at a market in the more busy parts of the Capitol it felt Exilirating having the wind in you hair an the adrenaline pumping in you veins as guards chance after you.

It felt amazing, so you started to steel more valuable objects for you and some neighbors you live with who can't afford much.

It felt nice helping the people you care about because they are all that you have besides yourself that is.

That was until a Strange man approached you one day while you carried your bah full of stolen gold and food you froze in your tracks as you inspected him caustiously.

He then introduces himself as Ethel a noble man from the South part of the Capitol

he proposed a propersition for you to steal the emperor's crown in exchange for a fortune of gold that you thought could last you a life time.

and it could help the people in your building so you excitedly agree to the offer unknowing of the dangers ahead that will cost you your freedom.

You got this you think to yourself as. You. Anxiously look in the dusty mirror glancing back at yourself. This should be pretty easy right?

And he offered you a fortune to do it so you can't really turn it down now. But what if they catch you? What if they execute you?

The emperor has known to be ruthless every since he killed the previous emperor and empress he has been know to rule with a iron fist and him being an Omega, is even more of a surprise to a lot of people but.

That doesn't make him any less deadly. Snap out of it (name) we don't need to focus on the what ifs just sneak in and sneak out right? Easy?

This is far from easy once you sneakily entered the palace grounds near the entrance.

It was littered with guards stationed from left to right. Luckily Ethel gave you a map of the palace layout.

You didn't want to ask him where he got it nor did you want to know. You sigh in relief as you were able to avoid the first set of guards near the palace garden.

It looks like they are about to switch shifts soon, a perfect chance to sneak in.

You examine the guards placed at the front entrance of the palace. You can’t go through the front that would be to risky. What if you just climbed up? Yeah that could work you could climb uo the palace walls and use your grappling hook!

Then you could break through one of the palace windows and head straight for the royal fault! Perfect plan! But their is a problem their also must be guards, guarding the vault so you’ll have to knock them out which won’t be easy on your part but it’s better to at least try than do nothing.

So with your plan set in motion you grab your grappling hook from your back pack and swing it up towards one of the windows making sure it’s hooked on and steady you start to slowly climb up making sure to make a lookout for any gaurds passing bye just in case.

You grunt in exhaustion as you finally make it up to the windows edge. You grab a screw drider and try to open the window from the other side thankfully it works.

it’s better than breaking the window because you’ve tried that before with a previous robbery and it did not turn out so good so you’ve learned to use the screwdriver for fear rain windows to unlock.

You carefully jump down from the window onto the marble floor taking notice of the surroundings.

Luckily for you it looks like you broke into one of the many spare bedrooms in the large palace. With a large king size bed with a golden headboard and a very soft carpet.

Wow is this what it feels and looks like to be living in royalty. You’d admit you're very jealous but not time to ponder right now you have a mission to complete!

So you exit the spare bedroom and quietly make your way down the hallway making sure to avoid any passing servants or guards patrolling the area.

You sigh as you luckily was able to hide behind a curtain as another passing gaurds walk past you, you grab the map Ethel has gave you as you scan it trying to double check if you are even remotely close to the royal vault, sadly you aren’t.

You don’t even know how the heck Ethel got this map and you don’t want to know when or how it’s really none of your business you're just here to get the job done and that’s all.

Sadly the royal vault is on the other side or the castle which is heavily guarded and you also have to pass the emperor's chambers which is also heavily guarded! Great! So fucking great. You are totally not going to make it out alive.

You rush through the hallways trying to be as stealthy as possible. You finally made it to the other side of the palace havung accidentally allerted the gaurds when you passed the emperors chambers.

you have to do this quick and fucking fast before they alert the emperor and their is a whole fucking search party to capture you.

You pant as you finally make it down an empty hallway as guards rush past you.

You sigh in relief as you take another glance at your map, you just have to pass this hallway then you’ll be the at the royal vault. Hopefully no one will be guarding it since your little mistake.

Thankfully for just your luck no one was guarding it which causes you to use you Bobby pin to pick lock the huge lock on the door. Finally you get the door open but you accidentally trip a wire which sounds off an alarm.

you jump in suprise fearful of your outcome as you quickly grab the crown and rush out the door only for it to be blocked off by gaurd surrounding you blocking your path towards the door. You whimper in fear as you try to hide the crown you stolen. The gaurds glare deadly at you.

Finally the captain of the gaurds a tall and imposing alpha with dark brown hair flowing down his back and a tall structure. He steps forward glaring deadly at you. “What exactly is going on here?”

He states as another more nervous gaurd then says “we caught this beta here tripping the alarm to the vault and stealing the crown captain we already alerted his highness.”

“I see. Apprehend them now and hold them down we need to secure the crown.” The guards nod in approved and pin you down taking away your bag with your supplies and the crown.

You try to fight against their hold but to no use you fail to get them off of you. You feel tears streaming down your face. This is it isant it? Your going to either be executed or rot in jail for the rest of your life?

Just for some fucking stupid fortune you should’ve never taken up this job. Maybe you are a failure like your parents use to tell you.

Unbeknownst to you your upset pheromones reach Eugene the omega emperor he quickly enters the royal vault with two guards standing behind him he takes a look at the situation at hand and his eyes soften. “What exactly is going on here?”

The emperors imposing voice breaks you out of your crying fit as you look up at him in awe at his beauty from his talk muscular built to his long dark black hair to his violet sharp eyes that can represent the stars themselves.

He looks down at you as he speaks eyes soften just a bit as you look at him in suprise. The captain of the guards then speaks

“our guards caught this young beta tripping the wire and stealing the crown your majesty. What shall we do? Shall we execute them or throw them in the dungeon?”

Eugene looks down at you softly, how could anyone hurt someone so precious your scent gives off a sour taste but smells like fresh baby pounder and cherrys.

Oh you look like a baby in his eyes so precious and small he just has to keep you.

“No.” He states firmly glaring at the guards holding you down

“bring then to my chambers in one peace if I see any scratches or bruises on them your heads will be off do you understand?”

The guards nervously shake their heads “yes your majesty!”

The captain of the guards looks at the emperor in shock but shakes his head dismissively. Eugene exits the room swiftly leaving you alone with the gaurds.

You stare in shock at the scene that just occurred.

You can feel your anxiety rising, oh fuck your going to die aren’t you he’s going to kill you himself and there's nothing you can do about it.

You cry frantically trying to get out of the guards grips frantically, you can’t die! No you can’t! You have to get out of here.

Your fight or flight kicks in and you start to slowly have a panic attack as you're crying. You don’t even notice the sterilizer being injected into you before it is too late.

You fall limp on the ground as your struggles cease, you pass out in the arms of one of the guards you vision going black as you finally pass out.

You groggily wake up to the feeling of a soft mattress under you, and a soft pillow-like feeling surrounding you.

Your bed has never been this soft before, wait this isn't your bed. You slowly open your eyes looking around as you take notice of the sunlight peeking through the extravagant window.

You quickly sof uo looking anxiously around the room as you notice you're in a king size bed with pillows and blankets surrounding you to form a nest like structure.

You start to panic trying to get up and out of the nest. But before you can exit the bed a strong force pushes you back down you look up to see the emperor holding you down.

“Shhh it’s okay pup lay back down I know your very sleepy don’t worry daddy will take care of you.” He coos at you looking at you with an obsessive glint in his eyes, you struggle trying to get out of his hold.

but he shushes you as you whine lifting you up into his lap as he lightly brushes his calloused hands through your hair, trying to release calming pheromones to calm down your panicked state

which unfortunate for you it works causing you to unwillingly relax against his hold, which causes him to coo at you.

“it’s okay baby you’ll be okay daddy’s here to take care of you now and forever.” What exactly have you done…can you even make it out? You don’t know but you don’t want to find out…

Authors note: hey y’all I hope you like this one shot I hope its to your liking I tried to make it as long as I could I kinda lost motivation at the end but I wanted to at least give you guys something I’ll defiantly make a part 2!

[moonstruckme]

Hiiiii!!!

I was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders with a reader who gets insecure about her dislikes (degrading, bjs, and rough stuff) during sex and feels guilty after sex bc she feels gross.

Thank youuuuu:3 pls ignore if your uncomfy

Hi, thanks for requesting! I feel like this came out a bit awkward but I tried and I hope you like it :)

cw: smut mdni, discussion (but not portrayal) of blowjobs and degradation, shame around sex

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You’re becoming genuinely worried that Remus and Sirius are going to break the bed. 

Both of them are cursing like sailors, Sirius’ voice climbing higher as Remus rocks both him and you with his thrusting. The bed lurches back and forth, your body jiggling with the movement, and James laughs, dipping down to kiss at the spot beneath your ear. 

“Doing alright, angel?” 

You swallow. “Yeah. Bit worried about the bed. You?” 

He picks his head up to give you a smile, seraphim with a flirtatious edge. “Also worried about the bed, but it’ll go out in style. Personally, I’m doing fantastic.”

You return his grin, and James presses his lips to yours. Lingering, mushy kisses that feel like they’re drawing something out of you as he pumps into you slowly. His hand stokes up and down your side the way he knows you like, grounding you while you arch up into him, affection and pleasure melding in your core until your walls are gripping him with something akin to desperation. The feeling grows steadily, James’ voice becoming hoarse as he spews sweet words and encouragements that get swallowed up by your eager mouth until you both break apart into a thousand shining pieces. 

James’ forehead lands on yours, both of you panting softly into the inch of space between you. His large palm continues to soothe over the now sweat-slick skin of your waist. You realize, distantly, that the sound and movement from the other side of the bed has ceased. Sirius and Remus must have finished before you (by some miracle, the bed seems intact), you’re not sure how long ago. It’s not unusual. You always take longer. 

Sweat and cum cool in your crevices, and a familiar remorse takes root somewhere in your chest, spreading towards your gut. You shut your eyes. You want to clean this up like it never happened. 

“Hey sweetheart, how are we feeling?” James reads your change in mood instantly. His question is painfully gentle as he picks his head up, giving you the bit of space he knows you need. 

“Okay,” you say. 

“Want to have a shower?” Sirius leans over to give your knee a squeeze. His tone carries the dulled worry of routine. “Might make you feel better.” 

You nod. Remus helps you up while James peels his condom off, throwing it in the waste bin. You can’t all fit comfortably in the shower, but you squeeze in anyway, your boyfriends terribly kind as you all clean off, checking in with you periodically. Your smile comes a bit easier, the easy affection between you softening your contrition like it always does. They relax as you do. Soon you feel clean and new, all wrapped up in steam and the love you wonder if you’ll ever be good enough to deserve. 

It’s not until after you’ve toweled off and are sitting on the bed in your pajamas, watching Sirius do his skincare routine, that a different kind of guilt begins to eat at you. 

“Sorry I always make this so difficult,” you blurt.

Sirius looks over at you from the bathroom, foaming cleanser half rinsed off his face. Beside him, James pauses with floss held up in front of him. 

“Uh, what’s difficult?” James asks you. 

“Just, everytime we have sex,” you look down at your hands, hearing the soft shuffle of pages as Remus sets down his book beside you, “you guys do so much to accommodate me.” 

“That’s typically how sex works.” Sirius rolls his eyes, tossing you a smile to mitigate it. 

You return his smile wryly. “You know what I mean,” you say softly. 

“No, come on.” Remus scoots closer until his shoulder is touching yours. “What do you mean, love?” 

You shrug, self-conscious. “Like, how you have to take care of me after because I get weird. And during, I never give blowjobs even though you guys have no problem doing anything for me, and you can’t go as rough with me as you like to. I’m sure it’s frustrating.” 

“Not really, no.” Remus says, and you startle at his matter-of-fact tone. “Anything else?” 

You hesitate. “Well, I hear the stuff you and Siri say to each other. You never say any of that to me, and you know I won’t say it to you.” 

“Yes, James doesn’t like degradation either.” Remus leans back against the headboard, looking thoughtful. “Is that all?” 

“I…” You’d been expecting a bigger reaction, not this almost bored response. “I guess that’s all I can think of right now, yeah.” 

“Well, let us know if you think of any more, because all of that’s just preference, dove.” Remus gives you a kind look, almost pitying. “None of it makes you difficult.” 

You sigh, leaning back beside him. Remus’ hand comes up to stroke your hair. “I just mean that I want you all to be able to do whatever you want to,” you say. “I don’t mean to be so…finicky.” 

“You’re not finicky,” Sirius laughs, coming out of the bathroom. He crawls right over you on the bed, stretching out like a cat and laying down with his head on your lap. “Everyone has preferences. It’d only be weird if you didn’t.” 

“But what about your preferences?” You’re nearly bickering now, frustrated with them for intentionally missing your point. 

“Have you ever thought about the idea that maybe we don’t all like it rough all of the time?” He raises an eyebrow up at you, teasing. James finishes in the bathroom and comes to lean against the doorway, watching the three of you. “If I wanted my hair pulled every time, gorgeous, I don’t think I’d have any hair left.” 

His joking coaxes a smile from you, but it’s tinged with bemusement. Really, you hadn’t thought about it that way. You’d just assumed that anytime they have sex with you, it’s a small sacrifice on their part. They drew the short stick that day. Like he can read your thoughts, Sirius grins. 

“Anyway, know what I like most?” 

“What?” 

“You’re going to hate it,” he warns. 

You almost want to laugh, but you narrow your stare on him. “Go on.” 

“Knowing that we’re making you feel good.” 

A derisive snort leaves you before he’s even finished the sentence. You roll your eyes. “You’re right, that’s awful.” 

“It’s the truth, though.” James holds his hand up beside him. “Scout’s honor.” 

“Were you ever in boy scouts?” Remus asks quietly, almost to himself. Sirius shakes his head in your lap, but shrugs like that’s not really relevant. 

“Honestly, sweetheart, you make it sound like being with you is some kind of chore,” James says, ignoring them both. “Do you think you’re the only one who can say if you don’t like something?” You blink in surprise, but he goes on. “If we weren’t having a good time, we would tell you. Promise.” 

“Scout’s honor,” Remus mimics from beside you. “You’re not the only one who likes to be treated gently, dove. The rest of us might go back-and-forth sometimes, but we all have things we don’t like, alright? It’s no burden to do what’s going to be nice for you, and like Sirius said, making it nice for you is part of the fun.” 

“A big part,” Sirius agrees. 

“Okay,” you say, softening a bit. “Okay, but what about after? None of the rest of you need to be coddled.” 

“How do you figure?” James asks interestedly. “Sirius is the biggest pillow princess I ever saw. He needs to be carried out of bed after, or have you never noticed?” 

“Oi, you try being thrown around like you two do to me and see how you feel after!” Sirius glowers. “Dollface, you get it, right?” 

You laugh, because you don’t, that’s the point, but Remus speaks again before you can tell him so. “Sweetheart, we all have our things we need afterward. And yeah, I think we all hope that someday you don’t feel so bad about yourself right after, but we’re happy to take care of you anyway.” 

You scrutinize him, looking for a lie in his placid features. “Really? You don’t mind?” 

“Yeah, really, idiot.” Sirius pinches meanly at your stomach. “You’re our baby, of course we don’t mind. Stop asking silly questions.” 

“Let her ask what she wants, twat,” James says, starting towards the bed, and Remus gives Sirius’ thigh a reprimanding flick with his middle finger. It doesn’t look very hard, but Sirius squawks in protest and glares at him anyway. “Nobody minds taking care of you, angel,” James goes on, scooching into bed beside you. “That’s what we do, right? You’ve never complained about taking care of us.” 

“I guess,” you give in, laying your head on his shoulder. 

James rests his cheek atop your hair in return. You can feel the movement of his jaw as he speaks. “We’re all allowed to like what we like,” he vows, then lowers his voice conspiratorily. “But you and I are on the right side of things, sweetheart. The things those two say to each other are depraved.”

[oceansblvds]

the early morning ; satoru gojo

pairing ; satoru gojo x reader

words ; 703

summary ; a blurb detailing waking up next to satoru gojo.

warning(s) ; slight smut, mentions of marriage, fingering,

it's during the early morning that you consider satoru gojo dutifully and wholly yours.

when you went to sleep in an empty bed and woke up with the first signs of the sun to someone next to you, his white tufts of hair poking out from under the blanket that he used to cover up his face. you wouldn't know when he arrived, probably some time between hours of 3am and 4am, whenever his job allowed for him to gain some type of reprieve.

you would ask him about it later, you supposed, taking the time to admire him, noting the cuts along his long fingers that he used to wrap around your waist. turning ever so slightly in an attempt to not wake him up, you peeked under the covers, seeing his soft eyelashes batted down and hearing his soft breathing breaking through the silence. he slept much like a child, always complaining about his beauty sleep.

as if satoru could sense that you were staring at him, his glowing blue eyes struggled to open, a grumble leaving his lips. "weirdo," he whispered to you, his hands coming and wrapping around your waist, pulling you up on top of him. your hands rested against his broad, naked chest, legs straddling his waist. "watching me sleep?"

"watching you drool," you teased, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his nose. "i just cleaned these sheets, you know."

satoru scrunched up his face, one of his hands coming to press against your upper back, pulling you closer to his body. "i do not drool," he stated. "plus, i'll just buy you new ones anyway."

"you're going to buy more instead of putting them into the wash?" you asked, raising your eyebrows at the laziness that he often presented when it came to normal, mundane tasks such as chores. "you really did grow up rich, didn't you?"

he only hummed, stretching forward and capturing your lips in a kiss, one that was clearly telling you to shut up. it was ever so composing, the dull taste of toothpaste being shared between the two of you, his tongue coming and invading the privacy of your mouth. you tried to gain the upper hand, putting your palm on his cheek and turning your head to deepen the kiss. satoru wasn't having any of it, deciding to distract you with a thrust of his hips forward, making you gasp into his mouth and allow for his tongue to slide further in. the bastard.

you decided to get revenge, rolling your hips, clothed pussy rubbing against his boxers. when you earned a particularly satisfying groan from him, you did it over and over again, using the force of his hands to help guide you to a pleasurable pace. all the while, his lips continued to kiss you. your neck, lips, collarbone, anything he could get them on. he was brutal with his kisses, sucking and biting and claiming you as his own. it was silly, really. his incessant need to continue to mark you as his as if he hadn't already claimed you the moment you two met all those years ago. still, you weren't going to complain.

"if you keep moving, i'm going to cum in my boxers," satoru said into your neck, using his hands to stop your hip movement all together. "and that would really be a shame."

to you, you thought. it would honestly be a compliment to your hip movements if you didn't say so yourself. a giggle left your mouth, one that he swallowed with his own as he pushed you onto your back, hand pushing into your panties to spread around your wetness. if he said something about it, you didn't hear it, too engrossed in his presence and the way that he was making you feel.

and as he pressed two fingers into you, pumping them in and out of you to prep you for yet another round of good morning sex, you thought to yourself how lucky you were to call satoru gojo yours.

and what you didn't know was that last night he was out late to find the perfect ring to ask you to officially call you his.

[johnbrand]

Right Kind of People

Dalton and Eli ambled into the locker room, exhausted after their workout. They had been coming to the gym for a few weeks, so while they could feel they were making progress, they could not yet see it. The couple had made a pact to start exercising more seriously before their wedding, hoping to have the best bodies possible by picture time.

“Hey, has this mirror always been here?” Dalton asked, pointing to the subject in question. It was a full floor-to-ceiling mirror, nothing extraordinary about it beside its size. 

“I read something in the monthly email,” Eli replied, rubbing some water on his face before coming over. “They're trying to class up the place to ‘lure’ in the right kind of people.”

Dalton scoffed, posing obnoxiously. “I bet the people they’re 'luring' for are some more obnoxious hetero gym-bros.” At about average height and a little pudgy, Dalton’s flexing appeared silly and foreign to his body.

Eli laughed at the joke, twisting his cap around to add to his fiancé's bit. “I’d need a sweet flow to grow out underneath this hat and then we’d be set.” Eli was the shorter and skinnier of the two, but otherwise there was not that much difference between them. They looked pretty similar, and dressed alike too. Even now they wore matching baggy tanks and shorts that went just past the knees.

“Yeah, we’d need like uh…some more poses too,” Dalton attempted to add, occupied by his reflection in the mirror.

“Sure,” Eli chuckled. “That way we could flex for our narcissistic selves even longer, right?”

Eli paused for a confirmation, but received nothing. He glanced at Dalton, noticing he was still flexing.

“Dalton?”

It took Dalton a moment to break from his haze, although not entirely. He was still making eye contact with himself when he replied: “...what? Oh, sorry bro.”

“Bro?” Eli questioned, now a little confused. Scanning over his partner, he began to feel even more uneasy. Were Dalton’s arms always so…carved? They appeared huge. And those legs too, the peaks and valleys of muscles appeared to be inching up the shorts. It was almost like Dalton was growing taller before his very eyes, the bottoms now barely reaching past half the upper leg.

“You gonna stop checking me out, dude?” Dalton grumbled, his voice a little deeper.

“Huh?”

“Look at yourself, bro,” Dalton nodded his head forward, insisting for Eli to flex in the mirror as well. Having no reason not to, Eli followed Dalton’s instruction. He made eye contact with his small body, which next to Dalton appeared like a baby brother rather than a boyfriend. Speaking of Dalton, Eli could have sworn he had buzzed his hair less than a week ago. Now however it had fluffed out in the front like one of those douchey TikTokker cuts.

“Bro, stop pissing around and check your own gains,” Dalton grunted, his baritone now aggressive. Eli complied, and to his surprise, found he was looking a little more built too. His calves were looking meatier, filling out into diamonds with carpets of hair dusting them. They appeared longer too, but that may have been because he was wearing some slutty short-shorts. Nothing too faggy, but just enough to grab the right kind of attention.

Eli blinked, trying to process where that slur had come from. But for some reason, it just felt…right? Like, correct. Like how his smoking abs displayed underneath his tight pecs. Or how his structured frame stood just a little taller than Dalton, both of them over six feet. Or the curve of his bis and tris always visible, even when not flexed.

Although when they were, you could get a real good whiff of his pits. Eli snook a sniff…yeah, real manly funk with just a hint of Old Spice. Once he pulled his nose away from his pit, he was able to check out his sick flow and how it perfectly curled out beneath his backwards cap.

“Yeah bro, this pump was insane!” Dalton guffawed. “The chicks are gonna love us.”

Eli’s head was momentarily pulled away from self-adoration. Why was Dalton thinking about hooking up with girls? Weren’t they…bros…? Yeah, they were best bros. And the thought of sucking on a girl's juicy tits right now made his big ole dick hard. Eli smirked to himself, growing hard while continuing to flex in the mirror. He could go for some pussy right now. Pussy was just meant for his cock…

After a notable amount of time still displaying themselves for themselves, the newly-minted straight douchebags left the gym. They had hookups ready before they even made it back to their cars.

Although it was a mirror, Dalton and Eli would have never known it was only one-way. Behind the glass was a massive television displaying hypnotic tracks and visuals 24/7. One only needed to gaze in the mirror for a few moments before becoming captured. And unfortunately for the former gay couple, Dalton had got it right; the gym was trying to lure in their perfect market: obnoxious hetero gym-bros.

[georgeclarkesgf]

a request for maybe some george smut after he comes back from the useless hotline tour that we werent able to go on ?? so like he hasnt seen us in a while

the second george steps into his bedroom, he drops his bags and heads for the shower. he knows you're on your way over, having been waiting by your phone all day for him to let you know he's back. so when your phone dinged, you were already halfway out the door, tripping over your own feet trying to get there as soon as possible.

conveniently, you live about a ten-minute walk away, meaning you're used to seeing george every day. the two weeks he and max had been on tour were difficult, but you tried to make the best out of the situation and would call each other whenever you could.

a few minutes after he had got in the shower, you're at the flat taking the familiar path to his room. your heart pounds in anticipation as you undress quickly after closing the door, glad you'll finally be with him again.

the warm air surrounds you when you step inside the bathroom and lazily drag your eyes over his body. he's standing under the water, eyes closed and head thrown back, making you think of the more sinful times you'd seen him in this position.

"hi george." you say, a smile breaking out on his face when he sees you.

"hi darling. come here." he replies, arms outstretched toward you.

you step into the shower, letting him pull you into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. his arms tighten around you and you close your eyes, water cascading over you both. a comfortable silence sets in and several minutes pass before either of you speak.

"wish you could've come with us, you have no idea how much i missed you. i even struggled to fall asleep." george admits, his cheeks turning slightly red at the confession.

"really?" you raise your eyebrows at him to which he nods, "i missed you too. had to cuddle the teddy you got me instead. wasn't the same."

your hands untangle from his hair and cup his jaw, connecting your lips in a kiss. as the water continues to flow, the kiss grows more passionate. george's hands travel further down, one landing on your ass and squeezing it, the other pressed flat against your lower back to pull you closer to him.

"george," you don't mean for it to come out so breathless, but when his lips detach from yours to trail kisses down your neck, you can't help it, "you've literally just stepped through the door."

"mhm. but, i also currently have my sexy, loving, amazing girlfriend, who i've missed so much, naked in my shower. so, i don't understand the issue." he counters, making you giggle.

two fingers make their way between your legs and start toying with your clit before sliding into you, the sudden stretch causing your knees to buckle. you can feel his cock against your thigh, so you begin pumping him at the same pace he's fingering you, steadily building up your orgasm.

he curls his fingers, repeatedly hitting that spot inside you and your orgasm washes over you within minutes, hands scratching at his back. your eyes squeeze shut and you clench around his fingers, moans filling the room while you ride out your high.

"fuck, baby." you pant, trying to catch your breath.

a proud smirk is plastered on george's face, "you good?"

"so good. your turn."

you go to drop to your knees to return the favour, but he's quick to stop you and shake his head. when a pout appears on your lips, he kisses it away.

"as amazing as that would be, i need to be inside you, like now." he pleads and grips your hips, moving you until your back is pressed against the shower wall.

contradicting his words, he slowly drags his cock through your folds, letting the tip bump your clit a few times. but you're impatient, so you replace his hand with yours and align him with your entrance, jaw dropping as he pushes in.

"fuck, you feel so good, shit." he groans, hands on your hips keeping you steady while he fucks up into you.

he starts off slow, letting you adjust, but as your moans and whimpers grow more desperate, so do his thrusts. the only two words leaving your mouth are 'fuck' and 'george', his ego growing and determination to make you cum doubling.

a particularly harsh thrust has you crying out, holding onto him tighter. the sound of skin slapping echoes around the bathroom, more than likely being heard over the water that's still running.

"you close darling, yea? you gonna cum?" he leans down, connecting your lips once again, not giving you time to respond.

the knot in your stomach is dangerously close to snapping and he knows, one of his hands leaving your hips to rub tight circles on your clit.

"please george." you whimper, clenching around him so tight he swears his brain short circuits.

"cum for me."

a whine escapes your lips and you throw your head back, letting your second orgasm take over your body. his rhythm falters as you cum around him, raking your nails up his back until they're digging into his shoulders.

george's head drops to your shoulder, thrusting into you a few times before pulling out, spilling over your thighs with a moan. both of your chests are heaving while you try to even out your breathing and he places multiple kisses to your shoulder and neck.

"well, that was quite the welcome home." george chuckles, "might leave more often if that's what i get when i come back."

"don't you dare."

--------

a low whistle comes from behind george as he enters the kitchen. you're curled up in his bed, having had a proper shower after his 'welcome home', and he's gone to grab you some water in just a pair of joggers, not realising bright red scratch marks are all over his back.

"take it y/n is here then?" chris chuckles, eyeing george from the sofa.

"uh, yea? how'd you know?" he furrows his brows in confusion since there's no sign of your things in the kitchen or living room.

before chris can answer, arthur hill walks in, eyes widening when he notices the marks too.

"damn george, what the hell happened to you?"

"y/n." chris replies, not taking his eyes off the tv.

"ah, right." arthur nods in understanding with a smirk on his face.

deciding to ignore their comments, george walks back to his room, being met with your horrified expression when he turns around.

"george! did you actually go to the kitchen like that?" you groan and he nods, confused, "there's marks all over your back. it's so obvious we've just fucked."

well, that explains it.

a/n not proofread sorry <33 hope you enjoyed!

[moonchild9350]

His Deviant Girl

Summary: Chan teaches you if you do wrong, you must get punished.

Pairing: idol soft dom Chan x fab reader

Genre: smut- 18+ please MDNI

Word Count: 1553

Warnings: masturbation, fingering, squirting, edging, daddy kink, use of term baby girl, dirty talk

Note: idk man, just a look into the inner workings of my mind haha. Mean and unbothered Chan has me in a chokehold right now.

Likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated:) If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please let me know (age must be in bio or pinned to be added)

This is not how Chan is in reality, this is solely for fun.

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission ©moonchild9350 (2024)

Chan was late coming home. This wasn’t a new occurrence, but tonight you wished he was here. You needed some help from your boyfriend.

You came to his dorm right before he was due home, but as the minutes which turned to hours passed, you became antsy, checking in with Chan to see when he would be home. He told you soon and to wait for him, and you wanted to wait, you were his good girl, but your desperation got the better of you.

That’s how you ended up on Chan’s bed, the door to his room closed. You were naked, fingers dragging up and down your belly, shivers running up and down your spine at the light touch. You let out a sigh, the need growing stronger. You brushed your fingers over your nipples, the mounds becoming more hard and erect with each touch, before pinching one of the nipples, the pain causing your to moan out softly.

You slid your hands down, down, down, until you reached your thighs, the light touch feeling like heaven. Gliding your fingers to your mound, you gently stroked a finger through your folds, a whine falling from your lips, trying to stay quiet. You dipped your fingers through your folds again and again, gathering the slick that was beginning to leak from your pussy. With another swipe from your entrance, you brushed your fingers against your clit, before circling your finger once, twice against the bud.

You swiped once more at your clit before bringing your fingers back to your entrance, sliding one finger in, then two, pumping them in and out of your pussy lazily. You closed your eyes and relaxed against the pillow, letting the pleasure spread throughout your body as you pumped your fingers in and out of your walls, trying to keep silent. You brought your other hand down to your pussy, taking two fingers to circle your clit once more, your other hand never breaking rhythm as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

You felt your orgasm approaching, as you rocked your hips up and down, up and down, the pleasure mounting. You wished it were Chan’s fingers making you feel good, your mind running rampant with how he would touch you, kiss you, and help you reach your release.

With another circle of your clit, you were about to let go, before the door to Chan’s room swung open, the man himself entering the room and slamming the door behind him. He looked at you, lust in your eyes but also pain as you felt your orgasm slip away. Chan tsked and shook his head, looking slightly annoyed.

“Now baby girl, are you supposed to be touching yourself?”

You whimpered out as Chan walked over and slapped your hands away from your pussy. He laid next to you, looking you in the eye, his eyebrow raised, waiting for your response.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

You shook your head no, letting out a whimper, “No Channie.”

“No who? Wanna try that again?”

“No daddy,” you responded, squirming around, looking for friction. You went to sit up, but Chan pushed you back down before spreading your legs open again.

“You need to be punished baby girl. You know I’m the only one who can touch this pussy, but you just couldn't wait” he said. “Now keep those legs spread open just like that. No touching, keep those hands at your side. I have some work to do.”

Chan proceeded to grab his laptop and opened it to get started on work. He turned on his stereo, music softly playing in the background. You watched him work, as he typed away on his computer, not looking at you or giving you attention. You let out a whine at the feeling of more arousal leaking out of your pussy, wanting to bring your hands down to where you needed them most. Just one touch, you thought, just one, as you slowly reached down to touch your clit. Chan caught you at the last minute, slapping your hand away once more.

“What did I say hmm? Did I say you can touch?”

Letting out a wail, you whispered no, bringing your hands back down to your side. You sat like that for who knows how long, the sheets below you a mess at this point. You clenched your pussy around nothing, trying to get any relief from your plight.

Finally Chan closed his laptop and set it on the bedside table. You looked over at him, tears forming in your eyes, your lip quivering, and in need of his attention. Chan laid on his side to face you, giving you a smirk.

“Have you learned your lesson?” Chan asked.

You quickly nodded your head, “yes daddy, I…I leaned my lesson,” you replied, a little hiccup falling from your mouth.

“Hmm, daddy had to punish you because this is my pussy and only mine to touch.”

You hummed in response, “It’s yours daddy, your pussy. Please, please need your fingers,” you begged.

Chan lifted his arm and brought it to your thigh, brushing his hand up and down your leg. He slowly made his way to your core, ghosting his fingers against your mound, little whimpers falling from your lips.

Finally, he dragged two of his fingers through your folds before bringing them to your clit, rubbing gentle circles. You let out a moan at the feeling of his hands, gently rocking your hips upwards. Slowly, he dragged his fingers down your folds again before inserting his fingers into your entrance, sliding them between your wet walls.

After a few pumps, Chan curled his fingers upward, rubbing against your sweet spot. He sped up his pace, squelching sounds from how wet your pussy was spreading throughout the room. Chan did not let up, keeping a steady rhythm. You rocked your hips with each thrust, feeling the coil in your belly tighten. You subconsciously brought your finger down to your clit, giving it a few tweaks.

Chan stopped abruptly, withdrawing his fingers from you.

"No, no, no, daddy why!" you wailed, your orgasm fading away again.

"You never learn do you baby girl. You must not want daddy to play with your pussy."

You shook your head, more tears forming in your eyes. You reached out to touch his arm, a silent plea in your eyes. Chan ignored you, grabbing his laptop once more to get some work done. Chan was punishing you and you knew it, but you just couldn't help yourself.

You laid there, legs spread wide, arms at your side, looking at Chan, hoping he would turn his head to see what a good girl you were being, but of course he didn't.

More time passed before Chan sighed, turning to you, "Are you gonna let daddy play with this pussy? Will you behave now?"

You nodded your head, spreading your legs even wider.

Chan brought his fingers back down to your pussy, fingers slipping from the slick smeared all over your pussy. He pushed two fingers once more into your entrance, pumping them in and out before adding a third. You sighed at the stretch, happy that his fingers were back between your legs.

He dragged his fingers against your walls, curling them up to find your sweet spot once more. Chan rubbed and rubbed against your sweet spot, pressing into it a few times, your hips bucking up at feeling. He brought his fingers to your clit, rubbing the bud. Slick was leaking out of your pussy, causing a mess, so wet, squelching sounds could once more be heard each time Chan's finger's dragged through your heat. He sped up the pace again, steady moans falling from your lips, the pitch of your moans increasing, your orgasm approaching.

“Daddy’s making this pussy wet hm? Whose pussy it is baby girl?”

You only let out a groan, not able to form a coherent sentence.

“What was that?” Chan teased.

“Mghh yours…ah..yours daddy. All yours!” You managed to say.

“Yes baby girl, all daddy’s. Do you wanna cum, I can tell you’re close baby. Daddy can always tell.”

“Let me cum! I’ll be a good girl, “ you whimpered, your orgasm was close, just a few more pumps and…

“Cum baby girl, yes that’s it, let it all out,” Chan said, watching as you came, your release gushing out onto his hands and into the sheets. He watched as your thighs spasmed, toes curling, as he continued to press into your sweet spot, helping you ride out your high.

Feeling your orgasm subside, you let out the breath you were holding, your eyes closing briefly before turning to look at Chan. You watched as he withdrew his fingers from your pussy, bringing them to his lips, licking your arousal clean off his fingers.

He withdrew his fingers from his lips with a pop, reaching over to brush the hair out of your face.

“I hope you learned your lesson, let’s not let it happen again ok?”

“Yes daddy,” you responded, giving Chan a weak smile.

He smiled back at you. “Now let’s get you cleaned up,” he said getting up from the bed.

You nodded ok, thinking your plan worked better than expected. You were Chan’s deviant baby girl after all.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @thesilvernight0wl

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch 26]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.6k

ao3 link

Depression is a funny little emotion.

It starts as a seed planted in your stomach by some inconsequential action that slowly grows throughout the day until it is strangling you. Tendrils sprout and creep up your sternum, creeping through your airway and constricting your lungs, making it just a little harder to breathe. Your chest feels tight and no amount of closing your eyes and counting slowly will make the feeling go away. The vines go for your heart next - weaving between the arteries and veins and squeezing until you are hyper aware of every beat it makes. 

You know you cannot let anyone know what germinates inside of you, so for hours and hours and hours do you pretend you can function properly. You ignore how heavy your heart feels or how much your throat stings. You turn off the urge to cry and scream and beg because you know there is no point to it. There is no relief. No amount of comfort will free you from the jungle forming inside of you. All you can do is wait.

Wait until you are finally alone, and the growth is finally allowed to bloom in your brain. Thorns pierce you, pumping their poison into your thoughts. Sap leaks from your eyes as stems force their way up your throat until leaves sprout from your mouth. You are consumed from the inside out until you are a hollow husk of a person.

And who would want to be around that?

Who would want you?

No one is the answer.

 It has always been no one. 

Your parents were the first to show you the truth. There was no care or comfort in your childhood - you were set aside and ignored.

You’ve never blamed them for this. As much as it hurt and as much as it messed with your self-worth, you’ve always understood they were not meant to be parents. You are sure they loved you in their own way, but the lack of affection left your soul to wilt.

College was no better. You made a few friends but quickly learned the meaning of superficial. They did not have time for your awkwardness and personal issues - this was their time to grow and blossom. So, you buried yourself in your studies and were always grateful when they were kind enough to invite you somewhere. 

When you started having romantic relationships they warped your mind even more. A few sweet words would lure you in, then you would become a caretaker and a warm body. Their needs were always top priority and yours were never to be acknowledged. You were strung along to a breaking point or told you were no longer needed, even when you were still heart eyed over them.

A few rounds of this showed you your niche in the world. 

You’re a background character. A friend of a friend’s girlfriend. A one-night stand. Minnie’s mom. 

You don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. You are meant to assist others - meant to raise your daughter to her full potential. 

You’ve long accepted this, which makes it all that much harder when Matt smiles at you like he does. 

You believe he cares for you - he is full of love - but you know there isn’t anything deeper in it. 

You are the mother of his child, a child he is head over heels for - it is natural for him to grow affectionate towards you. He finds you physically and sexually attractive and you yearn for that.

But you know you are nothing but a placeholder.

You have his attention now and you want to bask in it, but next week, next year, or maybe in two years, that attention will move onto someone who deserves it. Someone who is exciting as he is - someone who is smart and passionate. Someone who understands his life and what being Daredevil entails. Someone who cares about the injustices on the streets and does something about it.

Someone who isn’t broken. 

Someone who isn’t a shell going through the motions. 

Someone who isn’t you.

You want to cover your ears and pretend you don’t know the truth. You want to bury yourself in the three little words you thought you heard, but you know you can’t. 

You can’t do that to yourself again. You can’t handle another heartbreak. Another disappointment.

Another reminder you are Nothing. 

You can allow yourself to enjoy your time - enjoy the touches and kisses and moans - but your heart must remain locked away. 

Matt can have all of you but that. If you allow yourself to have hope it will hurt all the more when you have to let him go. 

And you’ll let him go easily when that time comes. You’ll step aside without a fight because his relationship with Minnie is more important than you will ever be, and you are not going to be the reason for a rift between them. You are not going to deny Matt time with his daughter because his destiny is with someone else. 

It will hurt, but it has never mattered if you hurt.

You just want them to be happy.

----

The progress bar on your screen is finally full and you now have the option to select ‘continue with install’. You click on the button, then warily eye your laptop as new windows pop up with technical information you do not care about. 

Work is pushing a bunch of new updates through their system, and because you are remote, you have to play IT to get your machine up to spec. They sent you an email with everything you need to do, which is to sit back and click a few prompts, but they failed to mention the process would take hours and that your laptop would be useless during that time. 

It is nearing two in the morning, and you are starting to run out of steam and patience. 

Between installs and reboots, you have cleaned pretty much everything in your apartment that you could without risking waking Minnie up. You did dishes and dusted. You cleaned out the pantry and washed the windows. You even swept the carpet to get out any lingering dog hair.

You’ve tried to sit and watch something, but it left you fidgety and you couldn’t pay attention to what was being said and you had no chance in hell of following a plot. You attempted to play around on your phone, but you became angry at yourself for not having the funds to buy things that were advertised to you. After Minnie’s birthday and your hospital bill, your bank account was getting dangerously low.

You want to turn off your brain and do your job. You don’t have to Think when combing through orders and producing invoices. 

You don’t want to Think anymore. You are so tired of Thinking. 

You slump into your chair and bury your face into your hands. You’ve got no way to calculate how much longer all this technical setup is going to take or how much longer you are going to have to stay up. The only relief you have is knowing you are being paid for this time, since the email specifically told you to be on the clock while running everything. 

You debate going over to the couch and trying to nap. You could set an alarm so you can periodically check on your computer, but you might disturb your sleeping toddler. The alert could be set to vibrate only, but would that wake you up if you really fell asleep?

Your only solution is to stay awake and try to find something to do to distract yourself. 

As you start to consider deep cleaning the linen closet, your phone lights up with a call from an unsaved number. It takes but a moment for you to recognize the sequence and your heart leaps into your throat as you answer.

“Hello?”

“You’re up late,” Matt teases as a greeting, his voice a few octaves lower than normal and sending a delightful sort of chill up your spine. “Working hard?”

“Hardly working,” you groan in response, but the mere fact he is calling has your lips turning up into a small smile. “My computer is doing updates and I’m waiting for it to finish. It’s been going for hours.”

Matt hums in sympathy and you wonder if he is just getting home. The fact he is a superhero is still very hard for your mind to wrap around. Sweet Matt, who lets his daughter put star stickers all over his face, is the same man who so routinely breaks people’s arms that local ER staff have a monthly betting pool about it - a little fact you learned from Karen. The man in videos dangling someone off a high rise or a bridge is the same man who becomes a clingy octopus when asleep. 

You understand his need to protect the city and you admire it, but fear and uncertainty gather in your belly when you think about Matt out on the rooftops. You are terrified of him getting hurt, despite the fact you trust him and his abilities. You know there is always a bigger threat out there as well as the possibility of an accident. Matt may be amazing, but he can’t fight a random act of God.

Three light knocks from behind you rip your thoughts and you turn in your chair to see Daredevil, in all his red suit glory, standing on your fire escape. He cheekily waves at you as he snaps his flip phone shut and stores it in a hidden pocket. You scramble up and over to the window, yanking it open. He waits patiently, though a bit smugly by the smirk on his lips, as you figure out how to remove the screen. He climbs through with ease and once he is inside, he starts removing his gloves and helmet.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as you close the window again. You aren’t opposed to him coming by, but this is the first time he’s done so, and you aren’t exactly sure of the protocol. Is it a social visit? Does he have some Daredevil news to share with you?

Before he replies, he shakes his head much like a wet dog would. His hair is damp with sweat and the skin that was previously covered is glistening. There is a slight tint of red to his usual paleness and you wonder if he is hot to the touch as well. You try not to squirm at the thought.

“I always check on you before ending patrol,” he finally says, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. He sets his helmet, gloves, and batons on the window-blocking table, then steps to you, reaching up to cup your cheeks when close enough. “I need to make sure my girls are okay.” 

The words come out of him so easily and you want to melt into them like you do with his touch, but your mind is quick to remind you that you’ve given him reason to have to check up on you. This isn’t him being sweet - it is him making sure you haven’t somehow managed to kill yourself. 

Before you can mentally chastise yourself and pull away, Matt is closing the distance. He brings you into a sweet and slow kiss and for a few wonderful moments, your mind goes quiet. His lips are so soft against yours and you can just barely taste the salt from the sweat that has dripped down his face. It ends far too soon, and you try to tell yourself you are not disappointed.

Your thoughts kick back into hyper drive, and as you notice how damp Matt’s hair really is you imagine he would appreciate some cold water. You gently pull away from him, turning as you do to head towards the kitchen. 

“Did anything interesting happen tonight?”

“Nothing out of the usual,” he answers as he moves to follow you. “There was a kid breaking into cars that stuck out, though. He should probably be on his school’s track team if he isn’t already - he made me work to be able to catch him. It was actually a little impressive.”

That would explain the sweat then. It is already warm out and racing through the streets in leather sounds exhausting. It makes you want to shower just hearing about it.

You find Matt’s designated cup and fill it using the pitcher in the fridge. As you pass it over to him, you question, “what did you do once you caught him?”

He doesn’t answer, instead taking the water and downing it all in just a few gulps. Since it is clear he is in need of it, you quickly refill the glass.

“I gave him a warning and let him go,” Matt says after taking another sip, “He seemed like a good kid just getting into the wrong things. I think being chased by the Devil will scare him off crime, at least for a while.”

That warms your heart a little - you like Matt’s sense of justice and how he does not have a hard stance on what is black and white. He truly wants to help the community and not rule it. 

You have to turn away as he drinks his second glass of water. You want those brief moments of mental silence back and watching his throat work only makes you want to kiss him again. You think he wouldn’t mind it if you threw yourself at him, but it isn’t the time or place, and honestly you are a bit scared of the idea that has that kind of effect on you. 

It is something to crave and ask for and get addicted to. If he can turn off your brain so easily, all you will want to do is touch him.

Ever on high alert, you see Matt roll his neck and shoulders as he goes to put his glass into the sink. The movements look a little stiff and anxiety takes hold as you hyper analyze every movement he makes, “Are you alright?”

He pauses at the question, clearly confused by it. He tilts his head back and forth in minute ways like he does when he’s searching for something before answering you. 

“Why do you ask?”

You feel yourself start to flush at the counter, feeling a little silly. If there was anything actually wrong with him, he has a competent nurse on call, but you can’t stop your worry. It courses through you like your blood and you know it will fester and nag if you have any doubt. But you are still hesitant as you vaguely motion to your own neck, “I don’t know, you were out all night. I just…I want to make sure you’re, okay?”

You know that Matt is analyzing you, listening for something you’ll never hear. His lips dip into a frown for a microsecond before lifting up into that soft, beautiful smile you are becoming so fond of. “I’m fine, darling. Just a little stiff is all. It’s hard to have good posture when crouching on a rooftop.”

You take in the words, and you can easily picture Matt on the edge of a building, sitting like a gargoyle. It does ease your own tension that he isn’t injured, but your head just keeps spinning. 

Matt came all the way into Chelsea to check on you, the least you could do is make it worth his while. Offering yourself up for sex doesn’t feel appropriate at the moment, but you have more up your sleeve than just that.

The words tumble out of you before the idea is fully formed, “Do you want a massage?”

The shock on Matt’s face is nearly priceless. His brows shoot up his forehead and his mouth parts just slightly and a small voice in the back of your head wonders if anyone has ever offered him one before. You know his upbringing was as barren as yours, but given he is a fighter, you would have guessed someone would have given him one. 

Finally, he nods, his smile starting to come back, “That sounds amazing. If it’s okay with you - I know it’s getting late.”

“I’ll be up anyways,” you tell him quickly, not wanting him to think it is any inconvenience to you. “And it sounds more enjoyable than more cleaning.”

“Okay.” His boyish grin gets even bigger, and your stomach does a funny twist. “Where do you want me?”

You direct him to sit in front of the couch, on the ground, and as he removes the top half of his armor, you go to fetch wet wipes and lotion. You do not want to be rubbing Matt’s sweat all over his back - you are going to be trying to help him relax and that is a little bit disgusting. 

As you come back to the living room, you have to remind yourself you aren’t supposed to throw yourself at him. It is not fair how good he looks shirtless - he’s well defined and muscular, but not so overly buff it is gross. It’s clear his muscles are for athletics and not to show off how cool he is. His scars only emphasize that. You have no idea how he got them all, but you very much want to lay him down and run your tongue over each and every one. 

Your view changes as Matt plops himself down in front of the couch, seemingly unaware of your various mental crises. You tell yourself to Behave before your feet start moving again. When you get to the couch, you maneuver yourself to be behind Matt and have to bat away all your thoughts again at the sight of his shoulders.  

You force yourself to focus on the task in front of you. As you grab the wet wipe to start cleaning off Matt’s back, you advise him, “Let me know if I go too hard or if anything starts to hurt, okay?”

Beneath your hands, he huffs, “Darling, I don’t think you’ll be able to hurt me. If anything, the harder, the better.”

Your face heats up a little at his words. You remember he said something similar when over you on the couch just a few nights ago. He likes things a little rough. 

Once his shoulders are mostly sweat free, you get to work. 

You start with smoothing your hands down his neck, then fanning out to the edge of his shoulders and back. You aren’t exactly an expert at this, but long ago in college, one ex liked to play video games while you rubbed his shoulders and you had done your fair share of research to make sure you were doing it right. You still remember most of the tips. 

You add some of Minnie’s scent free baby lotion to your hands, then dig your thumbs into Matt’s neck. The muscles are tight and as you begin to push and pull at them, a deep, pleased groan comes from the man under you.

“Mmm, that feels so good.”

You can’t help but smile at the praise and it only encourages you to make sure the entire experience is enjoyable. 

It is surprisingly easy for you to get completely lost in the massage. You focus in on one area and mentally picture different little arrows telling you to rub up this way or swirl your thumbs in a certain motion. Matt’s shoulders quickly become a grid for you to complete and not a laborious task of trying to bond. 

Under your unskilled fingers, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen melts. Whenever you find a knot - and there are many - he grunts and sighs and you can tell he is starting to relax. The tension in his shoulders fade and you actually get to see the moment his jaw unclenches. He opens his mouth and scrunches his nose, making the apples of his cheeks plump up. You peek at the television to catch his reflection and your heart warms at the pleased look on his face.

You wonder if it would be possible to get him to fall asleep like this and decide that is a challenge for another day. Right now, you want to pamper him. 

You slowly work your fingers back up towards his neck, then decide to take a chance based on what you know he likes. 

As you reach his hairline, you tilt your fingers forward so your nails are against his skin, then begin to slowly scritch at his scalp like he’s an overgrown cat. 

The results are instantaneous. Matt pushes his head into the touch, a low guttural moan coming up from his throat. 

It is Filthy. It goes right to your core, making you clench around nothing, and you can’t stop yourself from asking in a soft, teasing voice, “Feel good?”

He hums in an affirmative, tilting his head back far enough that he needs to lean against the couch for support. You keep your fingers where they are, as it's clear he is trying to direct you to where it feels the best - the top of his head. You scritch there, smiling as you fluff up his hair even more. 

Matt looks absolutely blissed out - his eyes are closed, his lips are parted, and you are pretty sure if you keep at this, he might just turn into Jello. 

Which is exactly what you want. 

He works so hard for everyone, running himself into the ground to bring justice to Hell’s Kitchen, and you think he needs some time to just relax. 

So, you begin to plan.

As you gently drag your nails through Matt’s hair, you let your mind begin to think up ideas for a nice family spa day while your laptop and dark thoughts sit on the dining room table, forgotten about.

---

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[bucks-babe]

Please release take it of baby I’m begging

So I haven’t been active since like, July or something, but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while. It’s part of the same fic but idk if I want to change the entire plot of it 😂. So here is some straight smut from said fic.

CW: fingering, oral m!rec, facefucking, almost passing out, Bucky is a dork but he’s in love, same universe as change my ways for you

He sets you down on the sink and turns the shower on. It doesn’t escape you that he set the temperature to what he calls ‘Dante’s Inferno’ before taking the condom off, tying it and throwing it away. You lick your lips at the sight of his soft cock. Even when he isn’t hard, it’s the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. With his perfectly pink tip partially covered with foreskin, dick resting on his heavy balls, cum still on his perfect cockhead, balls soaked in your slick - He was gorgeous.

“Loverboy, please.” You didn’t have to elaborate any further, Bucky knows what you want. You know he will, too. All you have to do is give him your best set of puppy eyes and he’ll do whatever you want.

“Sweets, I can barely feel my legs and you want me to do that?” You both know he is going to do it anyway. He can never say no to you. It takes one look at your face, and Bucky breaks.

Sighing, Bucky faces you, far back enough that you can see his whole body, and circles his hips. Your head follows the rotation of his cock, hypnotized. The clapclapclap of his cock smacking against his sack has your legs clenching and a moan slipping out of your lips. “Thank you, loverboy. Can I ask you one more thing though?”

Bucky stops swinging his cock and walks over to you, settling in between your legs after you open them for him, because you will always open for him. Looking into your eyes, Bucky’s hand finds your cunt, still sopping, and slips two fingers in, curling them with each slow pump.

“Course, sweets. Whatever my girl wants.” He adds his thumb into the mix, circling your clit. You moan and throw your head back, his other hand stops you from hitting the glass of the mirror.

“Shower. Suck your cock. Please.” You see his reaction, dick swelling with blood, growing harder by the second.

“I would never say no to that, sweets, but you’re gonna have to cum on my fingers first.” It’s not going to be a difficult task, pussy already pulsing. Pushing yourself up, your head finds the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around him, hips meeting his fingers. Your moans get more frequent and higher in pitch, but Bucky needs to see your face when you cum. He grabs the back of your neck before switching his grip to your chin, keeping your eyes on him.

“C’mon, pretty girl, give me your cream, soak my fingers.” It only takes a few more thrusts before you fall apart on his fingers. “Good girl, good fucking girl. That’s it, doing so good for me. Love you so much, sweets.” He keeps pumping into you slowly, helping you ride out your orgasm before removing his fingers and using his hand, covered in your slick, to wrap around his cock, jerking himself off.

He pulls you into the shower, hissing at the “boiling water” but he doesn’t have time to complain before you drop to your knees and take his cock in your mouth. “Fuck, sweets, shit. That fuckin’ mouth a’ yours is gonna be the death of me.” He can’t help but to buck his hips into your mouth, chasing more and more of your heat.

You pull off for just a second, spit keeping you connected to his dick. “Don’t want to be able to talk after this, loverboy, so you better get to work.” You don’t wait for a response before slurping his cock, taking him down to the base, sticking your tongue out to lick his balls.

Bucky pulls you off his cock, twisting you around so your head was against the shower wall, and spreads his legs so one is on each side of your body. He grabs both sides of your head, keeping you in place, not giving you any room to move. You smile up at him in complete bliss and his cock twitches, thrusting against your face, rubbing your spit and his precum everywhere.

“If you can’t keep that bratty mouth shut, then I guess I’ll have to keep it stuffed with my dick, huh?” You smirk at him, ready to get smart with him but he takes the opportunity to shove his cock to the back of your throat. At the sudden intrusion, your eyes bulge out, gagging immediately.

He pulls out, only giving you a second to breathe before slamming his cock back in, hip bones meeting your cheeks, heavy sack resting against your chin, holding your head there until he hears your feet scramble against the shower floor in a panic. Instead of pulling off and letting you take a breath, he only pulls off enough for you to suck in air through your nose before he brutally starts fucking your throat.

With your head being held in between his hands and his feet bracing each side of you, you're trapped, the only option is to take his assault on your throat. The sound of your gagging only turning him on more. If you want to stop, you’ll tap his leg, he knows that and for that reason he fucks your mouth as hard as he wants, knowing you can take it.

“Fuck! Yes, sweets, such a whore for my cock, letting me use you like a fucking fleshlight. Oh, fuck, best fucking mouth I’ve ever had, know that? Shitttt, open wider and stick that pretty tongue out and lick my sack.”

You feel lightheaded, barely able to get any oxygen in with the speed of his thrusts. The sound of his hips meeting your face is salacious, water adding to your inability to properly breathe. You open your jaw as wide as you can, ignoring the ache, the heavy slap of his balls on your tongue addicting.

Somehow the speed of his thrusts get faster and your oxygen is cut off completely. His hips slapping against your face cause water to splash, and you have to close your eyes. You’re leaking onto the shower floor, thighs soaked. You can’t bring yourself to tap out, needing him to fill your throat.

“Oh my god, sweets. Fuckfuckfuck, gonna bust. So fucking good, oh shit. Gonna take it, fuck, know you are, shit. Take it, fucking take my load, SHIT!” Bucky’s hips spasm, cum bursting from his tip. You can’t open your eyes, they feel too heavy. You’ve lost the ability to swallow, his cum flooding your throat with nowhere to go.

He rides out his orgasm before pulling off. With your last bit of strength, you keel over, coughing and sputtering while simultaneously trying to suck in air. Bucky immediately drops to his knees and picks up your head.

“Sweets! Look at me! Fuck! Please, tell me you’re okay.” Bucky feels his heart drop, you look like you’re about to die, completely disoriented, eyes glazed and unfocused. He rushes to turn off the water and carries you out to the bedroom, not bothering to dry either of you off.

Your entire body is limp and Bucky puts his head on your chest, almost crying when he hears your heart. Frantically, Bucky shakes you, trying to get you to talk to him. “Sweets, please, are you okay? Need you to get up.”

He hides his face in the crook of your neck, curling his entire body around yours. You feel his hot tears run down your neck but you don’t have the strength to speak just yet. You try nonetheless but the only sound that comes out is a broken groan.

Bucky shoots his head up, only to find you with the biggest smile on your face. Neither of you say anything, you because you have lost the ability to speak, and Bucky because he thought that he just killed you with his dick.

The first word that comes out of your mouth is just a croak and it takes a few attempts for you to be able to speak. “Never came from sucking a dick before.” Bucky’s eyes bulge out of his skull. He’s over here terrified that he killed you with his cock and is going to have to explain to the police that he didn’t mean to suffocate you with his dick but your mouth was so fucking good that he lost control.

“Shit, sounds like I’ve been smoking two packs a day for thirty years.” You try to laugh but you end up coughing to which Bucky sits you up and pats your back.

“Sweets, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that I went too far. I hurt you.” You slap your hand over his mouth, albeit a little too hard but you don’t have control over your body right now.

“Shut it, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever done. Dude, I fucking came from sucking your cock, you should be proud.”

“Did you just call me ‘dude’” Of course Bucky focuses on that.

“Dude, you know how I get when I cum. You’re my dude, dude. Trust, I loved it. Top tier.” Bucky can’t do anything but laugh. Only you would say some shit like that after sucking his dick. It did make him feel better though.

“I guess you’re my dude too, then.” Bucky rolls the two of you over, still soaking wet from the shower, pulling your body close, your still twitching body relaxing in his hold.

[mmogurl]

Dragonseed Chapter 2 : Coveted

18+ | 3.0k | Daemon Targaryen X Female Reader | dangerous, sex-crazed, raunchy Daemon | hyper possessive behavior, ownership, objectifying, big breast reader, non con, non consensual, P in V, lots of typical Daemon cussing, rough, forceful sex, violence, threats of violence.

Daemon has been feeling a lot better now that he's found you, his Dragonseed. No longer deprived of his carnal appetites, he's been keeping you close by ever since bringing you to work at Dragonstone. You return his generosity by satisfying his every need, although not always in the way you expect to. Daemon is a rather unpredictable man after all. I came up with the idea for this after reading page 914 in Fire and Blood. In the show, they recruit Valyrian blooded bastards to ride the unclaimed dragons from King’s Landing, but in the book there is actually a fishing village at the base of the island where Dragonstone is located. The men of House Targaryen were known to seek pleasure among the commonfolk there quite often, claiming their ‘first night’ rights and sowing ‘dragonseeds.’ Sorry it came out a little late, I've been sick again the past couple of days.. T_T

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 On AO3

Daemon wet his face in the basin, his fair skin caked with dirt and sweat from a day of training in the yard. He lathered a generous amount of milk soap into his hands and began to wash his face. He’d really prefer to take a bath and clean thoroughly, but he simply didn’t have enough time if he was going to wet his cock in you before supper.

Grinning he began to think of you as he ran a wet cloth under his armpits and then down to his groin. Standing buck arse naked in his chambers, his cock is already growing rigid in his hands at the thought of you, his little bird, his dragonseed, his secret paramour, and how hard he was going to fuck you when he got his hands on you.

Just as promised, he’d proffered you a position within the castle at Dragonstone easily enough, an assistant cook in the kitchen. Given you were so young and fit, the staff didn’t mind having another set of legs to fetch and carry things to and from the pantry. And given his high status, it wasn’t as though any of them would dare deny his request either.

The arrangement has been working out perfectly well for both of them so far. And since Rhaenyra never even bothered to join him in bed as of late, it had been painless enough to bring you into his chamber whenever he wished it. And oh how he had wished for it often, enjoying every moment of breaking in his new lover, and you were always so eager to please him. The biggest challenge was keeping you quiet so that his wife would not hear your screams of pleasure from down the way; he quite often accomplished this by covering your mouth, whether it be by his own hand or a gag of cloth to silence those heated moans.

Fuck, he was already at full mast, his manhood throbbing and twitching at just recalling the image of your full bosom bouncing beneath him as he restrained the sounds coming from your pretty little lips. Oh, how he’d love to let you go and hear every beautiful tune you might sing as he plunged his cock into your depths, but he’d rather not listen to the bitching that would ensue from Rhaenyra’s cantankerous mouth as a result.

Daemon finishes the quick job of freshening up, rinsing his body with more water from the basin and drying off before he gets dressed again. He rushes as he ties up his shirt, not wanting to miss the opportunity to have you sooner, rather than later tonight. His blood is pumping even more than usual today after some exceptionally good sparring with the other knights on the island, and he feels like he has enough seed stored up to take you at least three times, maybe even four.

He wears a knowing grin as he saunters through the halls of the keep, still half hard as he makes his way towards you, his toothsome little firebird. Daemon has a half a mind to take you wherever he finds you, loving the idea of a public fuck. Let one of the servants see him staking his claim on you, for it would make the act even more tantalizing. He wonders where he might take you, that self-satisfied smirk never leaving his countenance. Perhaps in the root cellar where the potatoes and wine were stored- or the pantry, or maybe even the larder? He finds himself further enticed by the idea of fucking you beside a full leg of mutton, after all, you are his piece of meat and he cherishes you for it.

There are a series of narrow hallways in the servants quarters, smaller rooms where they sleep, where you sleep when you are not keeping his bed warm. Daemon navigates them, slipping past other house staff that seem alarmed by his presence, but don’t offer any argument to it. The corridor opens up into the massive kitchen, a long rectangular room with an open stove in the center of one wall. Opposite the fire is a massive table that takes up much of the chamber, and women are busy preparing different elements of food to be served with dinner. Freshly cooked bread is laid out as well as several biscuits all arranged neatly on a silver tiered tray.

It all looks rather delicious, but no delicacy in the castle could compare to the taste of you. And Daemon is starving for you, ravenous with hunger for the sweet cunt between your legs, seemingly unable to get enough of it. He sees you standing at the table, your back towards him and your long silvery tresses glowing from the dancing flame of the fire-pit. He’d hoped to find you somewhere a little more private, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take you to another location to have his way with you.

As Daemon takes a step into the kitchen, he stops in his tracks, pausing in place as a consternated look appears across his furled brow and crinkled nose. A man, broad of chest and dark in his features comes to stand beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder and looking down at you with far too much affection and familiarity.

How dare that piece of shit touch you. You belong to him! He’d already stolen you away from your husband and in fact had the marriage annulled. He’d realized after talking with his maester, that as the lord of Dragonstone, he has the legal authority to deny any wedding among the peasants, and so he did. But, now some upstart ruffian from the kitchen was going to try and steal you away from him? How many men would he have to dispose of before he could be at peace with his claim on you?

It wouldn’t do at all. Daemon would need to make an example of him. Show everyone what happened when they touched what was his.

He strode up proudly, his back straight as his Valyrian Steel longsword, Dark Sister, as he approached the pair and cleared his throat, his hand clenching down on the man’s shoulder viciously. The scamp let out a startled yelp as you turned to see what was happening, a look of concern flashing across your eyes as you saw Daemon standing there. He saw the tremulous fear in your periwinkle eyes as you began to grasp the situation and sneered with a wild look of abandon in his eyes.

“What do you think you’re fucking doing?” Daemon roared out, squeezing even harder into the man’s meaty shoulder.

The fellow sunk under his grip, instantly relinquishing his hold on you as he attempted to turn and face his assailant.

“No, you can stay right there prick,” he said with a scathing venom in his tone.

The kitchen staff had all stopped what they were doing, gazing upon the scene with terror as though they knew blood was likely soon to be spilled.

“LEAVE US!” Daemon roared out loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls in echo as every single servant jumped in fright before rushing to leave the premises.

He reaches past you to pick up a chef’s knife from the table and spins the offender around to face him. “You see this knife, you fuckwit?” he asks with condescension. The man nods stupidly, wearing a veil of abject dread upon his face. “If I ever see you so much as look at her again, I’m going to make you a fucking eunuch. You understand?”

The man simply stared up at Daemon, disbelief rife in his slack jaw. He did not answer immediately and it angered the King-Consort even more.

“DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND!? You are not to touch her! EVER!!” he screams and wraps his giant hand around the man’s face, slamming him back against the heavy wooden table.

“Yes! Yes, m’lord!” the whelp finally replies, falling to his knees with his hands clasped up and pleading.

Disgusted, Daemon scowls and shoves him to the side, away from him and towards the exit. “Get out of you filthy mongrel!” he spits derisively. “Before I change my mind…”

The peasant chef or whatever the fuck he was, shambled to his feet, tripping and falling twice before he made it out of the room. The silence was cumbersome as Daemon eyed you, his gaze hard and vicious as he decided how he should punish you.

“Why did you do that?” you are asking, but your voice is so far away, barely noticeable against the ringing of his furious heartbeat in his ears.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” he begins tearing into you, his words savage and his voice hateful. He cups your face in one hand, stroking your cheek almost tenderly, completely juxtapose to the angry expression on his face. A squeak of surprise escapes your lips as he then runs the dull backside of the knife along the opposite side of your face. He is pleased with the fright in your features, after all, he wants you to know how grave an offense this is.

He turns you swiftly, shoving you against the surface of the table and pushing you down with a strong hand to the middle of your back. You try to get up when he tosses the knife with a clatter across the table, but he slams you back down causing the table to groan with the weight of his force. “Stay fucking down,” he hisses with frustration as he unlaces his trousers.

“But I didn’t do anything,” you whine sorrowfully, still trying to play dumb.

“Like fucking hell you didn’t, you little whore!” he spits back, pulling his stiffened cock out from his smallclothes and letting it hang freely. “You let him touch you. I fucking saw it! Saw the way he looked at you. How he wanted you.”

Daemon begins to pull your skirts up, shoving them up and over your waist until he can see your bared cunny before him. “Did you want to fuck him, girl? Did you think he’d have a bigger cock than me? Think he could fill you to the brim and make you ache like I can?”

You’re already whimpering, a soft mewl of tears in your voice as you try to make excuses. As you try to implore him to cease in being so upset. As though anything could calm him down now that he’d seen another man’s hands upon you.

“I will never let another have you, firebird.. You are fucking mine! You belong to me!” he shouted with a gruff and spiteful voice.

He pressed the head of his cock against your wet center, pressing through without warning and sinking all the way in until he thudded roughly against your womb.

“Fuck!,” he roared as you continued to whine against the hard surface of the counter. “I need to remind you, hm?” he asked, one hand coming to your hip and pulling you back roughly onto his member as he thrust into you again and again. “That you are just a little thing, a prized cunt for me to fuck whenever I wish it?”

That actually makes your breath catch with fresh indignant cries of pain. Oh you haven’t cried like this for him since the very first time he had you and he is relishing the way you keep trying to pull your tender core away from his impending wrath. It’s not like you have anywhere to escape to though, not like you can get away from his grip, pinned between him and the table, forced to take him like a good little trollop.

“This tight little hole belongs to me, girl!” he seethed, losing himself completely in your wet heat, his fury unbridled as he pounds into you relentlessly. “Say it. Tell me what you are and who you belong to. Say it now!”

He knows you won’t like that, understand all too well how proud you are, but he has to break your spirit further if he’s going to keep you under his thumb. He has to make you realize that you’re nothing without him. You stay silent besides the sound of your wailing, your dismay at how he is taking you and how low he is trying to bring you apparent.

“Say it, you little fucking slut!” he howls, raising his hand from your hip to slap you viciously on the the round fat of your arse.

You let out an alarmed yelp, followed by a wail of outrage as you finally relent. “I’m…I-I’m your cunny to fuck, Daemon!” you squeal with the sharp sting of embarrassment clear in your tone as your tight core clamps down on him in response.

“Damn fucking right you are,” he leers over you with a primal growl of arousal and conquest. “You like it don’t you? Like being my little whore?” He slaps you on the arse once more, this time hard enough to leave a crimson handprint on your flesh. Daemon can’t help but grin at the sound you make and the way you clench down tightly on his cock each time he slaps your rear. “You really do enjoy it,” he smiles smugly, loving that his filth has this affect on you. “I wonder how much coin I could fetch for you back in the brothels at King’s Landing? I bet you’d be the biggest earner on the Street of Silk… And you’d love every moment of it wouldn’t you?”

The inner lining of your center contracts violently around his length as you peak, causing him to wince in pain as he pushes past the taut muscles. “My dirty little bird,” he pants, grinning from ear to ear as you go limp against the table and he plunges deeply into you, pounding endlessly as he chases his own release.

He spills into you with the heat and thickness of molten lava, his cockhead slamming roughly against your womb as he pulls your hips onto him firmly, pulsing seed inside of you as he groans with the pleasure of subduing you completely.

“Fucking hellls!” he bellows out, falling on top of your back with nothing but his arm to keep from crushing you, holding himself up slightly from the wooden counter.

Daemon stays inside of you, not in a rush to leave the safe and welcoming heat of your cunt. As he steadies himself on his forearm, he reaches up to brush your hair aside, wiping salty tears dotingly from your cheeks as he takes in your expression.

“Are you hurt, little bird?” he asks with a hint of regret in seeing your reddened eyes and cheeks. “Was I too rough?”

You shake your head slightly, still not making eye contact with him as your body shivers beneath him. He smooths your bright locks of hair back against your scalp, still panting as he tries to recover.

Gods, he thinks you look beautiful like this, ravaged and spent, and still impaled on his cock.

“I don’t want him,” you finally say quietly, almost pouting. “He means nothing to me.”

Daemon sighs, feeling a pang of guilt at how decisively you say that, without a hint of doubt. He withdraws his length from you, leaving a slick mess of your combined fluids as he lets your skirts fall down again. He puts his now softening cock back in his brailes and turns you around to face him.

“I know,” he says pressing a kiss against your lips, before pulling back to take a look at you. “I can’t control how I feel about you, my searing firebird,” he says more softly, peppering kisses on your cheeks in between words. “It drives me mad with rage to think of another man so much as touching you.”

There was something about fucking you that always dulled his sharpest edges. It was as though every bit of pent up rage and aggression just fell away once he spent inside you. You were the only one who could sooth his ferocity like this, quell the savage beast that he always became in your absence, or even at the thought of losing you.

“I would never leave you for another, Daemon,” you say reassuringly, brushing your soft hand along the hard line of his jaw. “I don’t want anyone else but you. You must know that by now?”

“One day, I’ll learn,” he offers with a playful little smirk as he snatches your hand in his, and brushes a gentle kiss against the back of your knuckle.

“Well, isn’t that sweet?” an all too familiar voice cuts through the tender moment.

Daemon snaps his head towards the shrill sound, knowing exactly who he’ll see, his wife Rhaenyra. He looks back at you, realizing that he’s been caught and worried about what it could mean for you. He turns back to the would be queen and offers a feigned smile of surprise.

“I’m sorry, wife,” he offers complacently as he lets your hand go and smacks you on the bottom dismissively, signaling for you to leave. “Did we make too much noise?”

You scamper off obediently, retreating into the hallway and out of sight much to his relief. He doesn’t want Rhaenyra getting a good look at you, doesn’t want her getting any ideas concerning retribution against you.

“When the staff is not allowed into the kitchen to prepare supper and we are all made to wait… Well, it certainly sparks one’s curiosity as to what is causing the delay, husband,” she says, her voice cold and distant.

“Oh, that?” he throws his hands out in a disarming gesture, showing that they are empty. “That was just some fun,” he assures her, using as much disregard as possible so Rhaenyra might feel less threatened by you. “A passing dalliance, nothing more,” he offers with a wink as he lowers his hands to his sides and walks past her out towards the dining hall.

[achilles-rage]

20 from the smut prompt list with buck pls :)

yay soft sex!! i feel like i don't write enough of that<333 (and picturing that with buck is😵‍💫😵‍💫)

number 20 from this post: "gentle comforting sex"

you knew something was wrong when buck came home from work. his usual smile was nowhere to be seen, and he looked deflated; shoulders dropped and head hung in a silent plead for comfort.

you led him right to the table and placed a dinner plate in front of him; knowing when he gets like this, he never remembers to eat. when you're both finished dinner, you lead him upstairs to bed. it's already late, and you figure he could use some sleep, if not some cuddles.

you help him out of his clothes and into some sweatpants, and then after you change into an oversized shirt, you crawl into bed beside him.

"do you want to talk about it?" you ask him softly, letting him rest his head on your chest and wrap an arm around your plush middle. you reach up and run your fingers through his hair, hoping that some tender touches will do the trick.

"not really." he murmurs, nuzzling his face against your chest, and you nod slowly with a quiet hum.

"what do you want me to do, my love?" you ask, voice just above a whisper. you kiss his forehead as you wait for him to respond, and then he lifts his head, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you.

"lay with me?" he whispers. you smile sadly, tilting your head to the side as you move your hand from his hair to his cheek, thumb caressing his skin.

"baby, i'm already laying with you." you tell him, and he finally smiles, just slightly, and just for a split second.

he shakes his head as he moves off of you and rolls onto his back, looking over at you expectantly once his head is comfortably on his pillow.

"lay with me." he says again, and you finally understand what he means.

you get up and straddle his lap, then lay your head down on his chest, letting your weight rest on him as his hands come up to your thick thighs.

you know he finds comfort in laying like this; feeling your weight on him and your warm breath hitting his chest. so, you stay put, letting his hands move over your thighs, and your hips, and up your sides, trying to calm himself down.

"kiss me. please." you hear him whisper after a while, voice full of vulnerability.

you lift your head to look at him, then smile as you bring your lips down to his, cupping his cheeks as you kiss him tenderly.

he responds immediately, deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth as his grip tightens on your hips.

"need you." he whispers against your lips, kissing you fervently, like you're the only thing that can help him right now.

"what do you need, baby?" you whisper, pulling back to look down at him. you see the neediness in his eyes right away, and your own soften. seeing him like this breaks your heart.

"need you." he says again, pulling your hips down hard against his, letting you feel his hard length pushing against your clothed centre.

"you sure, sweetheart?" you ask him, letting him pull you down, but not moving your hips yet.

"please. i need to feel you." he practically begs, firm grip starting to move your hips in a gentle rocking motion against him.

you nod as you begin to move with his hands, letting out a breathy exhale as you feel him pressing against your clit.

"baby, please." he says again, growing impatient. he needs to feel you now. he can't wait any longer, and you couldn't say no even if you wanted to.

you lift your hips off of him and pull his hard cock from his sweats, pumping him a few times before you push your panties to the side and sink onto him.

he lets out a soft hiss at the feeling of you stretching around him, taking his entire length as he grips your hips tightly.

you lean down to kiss him deeply as you begin to move your hips, swallowing every moan that escapes his lips. you can feel the way his entire body relaxes as you roll your hips against his, and it urges you on, desperate to see his usual, happy self again.

his chest feels tight as he helps you move against him; his body craves your touch, needs the reassurance that you're here with him, and you always will be.

"i love you." you murmur against his lips, feeling the familiar feeling in the pit of your belly as you feel him twitch inside of you.

"i love you- so much." he rasps, moving one hand down to your clit, rubbing lazy circles with his fingers. your sweet boy, you think, even when he needs the comfort, he's still worried about your pleasure.

"don't stop, baby." you pull back from his lips, looking down at him as you move a little quicker.

"i won't, baby, i promise." you tell him, relishing in his shaky moans and low grunts.

"god, i need you." he mumbles, looking up at you as if you're the only thing in the world. he's mesmerized as you move, and he helps with your actions, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips while the other focuses on your clit.

"you have me, honey. you always have me." you purr, leaning down to kiss down his neck to his chest, lips pressing hot kisses to every freckle and scar.

"need you, ahh- need you-" he rasps, his sentence being cut short as he cums, his entire body trembling with the intensity of his release.

you follow suit, whimpering softly against his skin as you feel him fill you up to the brim. you slow your hips to a stop, keeping him tucked inside you as you both come down from your highs.

he keeps a firm hold on you as you continue to kiss the expanse of his chest, as if you'll slip away from him if his grip lets up at all, and when you feel his breathing go back to normal, you lift off of him slowly.

"are you okay, my love?" you ask gently, looking down at him struggling to keep his eyes open.

"better." he tells you earnestly, opening his eyes just long enough to look into yours.

"good." you reply, smiling to yourself as his eyes close again and he drifts off to sleep.

[wonysugar]

you know the drill i fear.. BEFORE YOU GUYS YELL AT ME just know that i’m sorry and i’m trying incredibly hard to get all of my drafts done<//3 IT’S HARD WRITING WHEN NO INSPO HITS YOU OKAY… but for now, please accept some of these fresh drabbles, i’m sorryrjrnrnf

now… NOW…… mid 2023 sugar may or may not have possessed me on this fine morning because hellooo i miss short black bob chaewon BAD i need to eat her out and make her feel good desperately!

cw: waxplay, sensory play(??) i have no idea what to call it but she doesn’t let you touch herfkemf, vibrators, very light bondage

i’m so normal about these pictures omg the femme dom ever,,, the powerbottom to have ever powerbottom-ed this earth,,,, chaewon is the definition of cute girlfriend in the streets FREAKY HOE IN THE SHEETS CAUSEEEJFKS???

she has an obsession with your mouth she cannot help it! she just loves using it for her own pleasure i fear… feeling its moist surface on her wet swollen cunt whenever she’s needy for your touchcidkfk moaning at the slight contact :(( i am also a firm believer that she’d guide you to do it the way she likes it, BUT NOT USING WORDS; indeed, she’s perfectly content with forming a rough grip on your hair and pulling on it however she wants to and whenever she wants to. sometimes she even pulls you away from her pussy so just so she can see her wet slick on your stuck-out tongueckdkf looking at the string of mixed saliva and cum left between your muscle and her core…. giggling so hard rn guys

also SHE’D MOAN SO LOUDLY??:((( i know she sounds pretty i KNOW she does,, and so does she! she gets turned on by the sound of her own moaning, it’s only natural. the way your name rolls off her tongue so sweetly as she whines sounds like music to both your ears and hers. she’ll make sure you hear how good you’re making her feel, how good you’re being for herckdmfnd

now,, if we’re looking at the more RISQUÉ aspect of things.. oh she goes nuts i’m afraid.

OMG WHO SAID CANDLEWAX?? no but yeah on the days where she just feels like watching you squirm and struggle under her touch, she’ll just pull out the candlescisndn

NOW WALK WITH ME. she’s sitting in front of you, you’re laid down on the bed and your wrists are tied to the bed frame with her tie or smth because she’s an angry and frustrated office worker in my heart LEAVE ME ALONE. she knows how much you love touching her, and she knows how needy and whiny you get when you can’t. [devil emoji] SO NATURALLY! she has a vibrator nestled in between her legs and pressed onto her clit, barely even visible due to the oversized button up she has ongkemfm and she’s just pouring drops of candlewax on your naked stomach, the sight of you whining both at the delicious pain and the absence of her skin on you.

she’s moaning so loudly and staring at you with such lustfully hooded eyes, making it even harder for you not to wanna break free from the restraint of the tight tie and fuck her better than the vibrator ever will, like she rightfully deserves:((

also she totally degrades you in the process SORRY NOT SORRY!! she makes fun of you for the warm pool growing in between your legs, moaning how dirty and slutty you look getting wet by just watching her get off,, how you’re dripping for her even though she hasn’t even done anything expect burn you ahehehcjdkd calling you a ‘desperate fucking bitch’ and whatnot,,, laughing at you when you start crying and squirming whilst begging for her to untie you,,,,,, I’M UNWELL.

AND IF I SAY THAT SHE’D ALSO SET ASIDE THE VIBRATOR AT ONE POINT AND START SLOWLY FINGERING HERSELF IN FRONT OF YOU, TEASING YOU BY SPREADING HER WET FOLDS SO YOU CAN SEE EVERY LITTLE THING— [GUNSHOTS]

i fear she’d also describe to you how her fingers feel pumping in and out of her and moan your name in the process,, you’re just watching her throw her head back in pleasure as she fingerfucks herself?? oh girl at this point you’re just whimpering and sobbing like the pathetic whore she thinks you are, trying to subtly close your thighs and rub them together for any sort of friction:((

oh selfish chaewon save me…. save me selfish chaewon

[alphajocklover]

Hey man, so I've tried to be passive most of my life and not cause trouble. Not breaking many rules, doing as I'm told, and it just leaves me with so much missed chances and getting walked all over. I'm kind of tired of it.

I wanna be abrasive, not rude but confident. Almost cocky. And I want the looks to match. I wanna be huge, and bulky, and hairy too. I don't wanna be smart and focused on academics, I wanna chuck balls and pump my cock all day. Weird enough too, I wanna be sweaty. I wanna raise my arms and watch a bunch of gay dudes just melt like puddy.

The best part is, I wanna *feel* this transformation. I want to watch my arms get huge, I wanna hear my voice get deeper, and my chest push out and almost tear my chest. I wanna be...I wanna be...I wanna be a fuckin JOCK

I want to start by assuring you that everything you’ve said, everything you’ve been feeling, makes sense. There are a lot of people out there who are like you, people who have spent their entire lives just blending in. It’s natural to want to fit in, but when you spend so much of your life trying to fit into the norm, it can be easy to forget who you really want to be. When that happens, most people try to change things up. Some chase after a specific new self they dream of being, while others experiment with different identities, trying to find one that fits. But then, there's people like you. People who have spent far too long trying to fit in. For people like you, blending in isn’t a curse: it’s a superpower.

What you have to understand is that a person's identity is far more powerful than you might realize. There's a reason people take names so seriously. Psychologically, socially, and even magically, they’re important. So when a person leaves so much of their identity up to the people around them… it makes sense that a transformation might occur. That they change, literally change, to blend in with others. We call these people Camous. People who have the power to socially blend in, literally, with the world around them. They’re sort of the opposite of Alphas. Alphas change reality to fit their whims, Campus change to fit reality. And from what I hear, you’re becoming one. I know this might sound a little frightening, since having your identity threatened will do that to anyone. But this is a good thing. While changing is scary, you won’t change entirely. Your body, your personality, your traits, and even your reality will change depending on who you’re around, but the core of your identity, your soul will stay the same. You’ll still be you, just… altered. And being a Camou gives you a lot of advantages. It’s true that you won’t ever stand out really, but you’ll always fit in and always be part of a group. And, better than that, you can use your power to choose who you want to be. You want to be a jock, right? A sweaty, hairy, manly jock who makes gay guys weak in the knees? All you have to do is find a group of jocks to join! It isn’t hard to find a group of jocks, even the specific type of hairy gay jocks you’re looking for. You just have to find the right gym, and I know just the one. The Jockstrap is a local gym specifically made to cater to people like you. Or the people you want to be like I suppose. I want you to take a deep breath as we enter. Do you smell that sweat? That manly musk? Breathe in deep, it’ll help the process. Unlike one of the more famous transformation methods I’ve written about, this one isn’t instant. You’re going to feel your biceps fill with muscle, your pecs bursting forward as your body is covered in a respectable smattering of manly hair. It’s already happening. Your shoulders are widening as your chest continues to grow, needing more room on your body. Your legs, your arms, your ass… everything is growing. But that isn’t the only thing that's changing. Your mind is too. I can see the excitement in your eyes as you look around. Working out, exercising, playing sports, hanging with the bros… you’re already getting excited by the thought of it. And without getting too explicit, it’s obvious that you’re excited in other ways. I can see it through your sweat pants (I guess your clothing changed too) and it must be at least 8 inches by now, soft. That rod, your muscles, and the sheer amount of manly musk that's coming from your body now? You’re going to have twinks throwing themselves at you.

Now, since you’re a Camou this transformation isn’t permanent. It’ll last for a while, longer depending on how much time you spend at the gym surrounded by your new bros. The general rule is if you spend one hour with a group, you get three hours as one of them, unless you spend time with a new group immediately after. But the really exciting part is that once you have a form, you can turn into that version of yourself… with some practice, and if you aren’t currently with a large group. 

I honestly can’t believe I haven’t talked about Camous beforehand. Granted, you’re only the second Camou I’ve ever met, but they’re so interesting I can’t believe I’ve never brought them up. I hope you enjoy being a jock, or whoever else you want to try out being. Just, try not to fall in with a bad crowd.