#it’s like my body doesn’t even want to swallow it

[jobean12-blog]

Make It Last

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mob/Mafia AU)

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: When the most powerful man in the city wants you, it's hard to say no. Obviously he's hard to resist but considering his significance in the city you can't help but wonder if you're just another piece of arm candy, so if he wants you, he'll just have to wait.

Author's Note: I've been thinking about Mob!Bucky a lot and what it would be like the first time with him. Lovely Sydney @buck-star had sent me a Mob!Bucky thot last week and he's just so yummy! Hope you enjoy, thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of build up and tension to lots of smutty fun. Bucky is dominant but also soft and gives you everything you want. Oral (f rec), p in v (wrap it up but no need here bc it's Mob!Bucky and he's good and already checked you out haha), light praise and overstim, Bucky can't get enough and you don't want him to.

“It might last longer if he just takes a picture!”

You laugh but you don’t look at your friend even after she makes the joke.

“Why is he even here? Didn’t you tell him you’d be out with the me?” she adds.

At her question you turn to Nat and raise a brow.

“He owns the place. What am I gonna do? Have security remove him for staring too much?”

Nat laughs into her drink but shakes her head. “I guess that won’t work…but it doesn’t bother you at all?”

You give Bucky one more lingering glance then turn your full attention to Nat.

“Under different circumstances it might but it’s sort of my fault that he’s so…worked up.”

“What does that mean?” Nat asks as she leans in closer with a smirk.

You take another sip of your drink. “Well, speaking of pictures…I sent him some while I was getting ready…”

Nat pauses then says, “and? Hasn’t he seen you naked already. You’ve been dating almost a month.”

“We haven’t had sex yet.”

She nearly spits out her drink. “You haven’t fucked that man yet?” She peeks over your shoulder at Bucky, who still has his full attention on you.

“I know,” you sigh. “I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long. But honestly, he’s the most powerful man in the city. He probably has had every woman alive. Why me? I didn’t want to just sleep with him and then…that’s it.”

Nat nods in understanding. “So, you’re making him work for it.”

“Work for it, wait for it…I like him. A lot. And I’m hoping that this shows him I want more than just a good fuck.”

“I bet he’s the best fuck…ever!”

Nat’s words send you into a fit of giggles that dissolve as you feel him approach, the heat at your back followed but a shiver from his whispered words against your ear.

“Enjoying yourself doll face?”

You turn your head, your face so close to his you nearly bump noses.

“I am Bucky, thank you.”

“Good,” he says. “And this is your last drink.”

Your eyes widen at his statement, and you open your mouth to argue but he places a long finger against your lips to silence you.

“I want you completely coherent when I fuck you tonight. I want you to remember everything I do to you.”

With a hard swallow you whisper, “ok,” and your eyes drop to his lips. He kisses you, sweet and soft and way too quickly.

“My car will be outside at eleven.”

He says goodbye to Nat before walking off and disappearing behind one of the doors at the back of the club.

“What was that about?” Nat asks. “You look like you might pass out.”

“I’m going to sleep with him tonight,” you answer, nearly breathless.

Your eyes roam over his body, his black button-up shirt tucked into black pants. The first two buttons of his shirt are left undone, hinting at the expanse of skin beneath and highlighting the long and muscular line of his neck. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his corded forearms and prominent veins shift as he removes the lustrous watch on his wrist.

You stand and wait, watching him as he slowly stalks closer.

“Do you know how hard it’s been? How hard I’ve been…waiting?”

Your eyes drop to his pants and the clear outline of him pressing along the lush fabric. You reach out, your fingertips just brushing against him and his breath comes out in a sharp exhale.

He wraps his fingers around your wrist and drags you into his chest, pressing you against every inch of him. His lips find yours in a hungry kiss, his hands slowly tracing your curves until they cradle your face.

“Are you finally going to let me have you?” he murmurs against your lips.

Your palms flatten along his chest, and you kiss him softly.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“My favorite word,” he breathes before kissing you again.

His hands move to your back, finding the zipper of your dress and toying with the small piece of metal. You whimper with impatience, and you feel his smile against your mouth before he spins you around, so your back is to him.

Goosebumps break out across your skin as he smooths his fingertips over the curve of your shoulder then drops his hand back to the zipper, slowly pulling it down until the fabric pools at your feet.

He hums in approval, kissing the back of your neck and then the space between your shoulder.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing the lace of your undergarments.

He turns you to face him again and then gently guides you toward the bed, pushing until you sit. He kneels, taking your foot in his hand and sliding off your heel. He repeats the action with your other foot and smooths his palm along your calf with a delicate caress.

“So soft,” he sighs then stands, gazing down at you. “So beautiful.”

He starts to unbutton the rest of his shirt, but you stand to stop him, taking the fabric between your fingers and teasingly undoing the buttons until you can push it off his shoulders.

Your fingertips lightly scrape down his chest, lingering over every scar you find before your lips press to the puckered skin.

His eyes close and he whispers your name.

When your fingers reach his pants, trembling slightly, you pull the zipper down. You reveal his boxers and the noticeable bulge beneath the tight material.

You lick your lips and brush your fingers through the soft hair just above the waistband then dip them inside, sliding your hand along every warm, silky inch of him.

He throbs in response, your thumb tracing the tip and smearing the wetness there. You kiss him all over, not taking him into your mouth yet but teasing with your lips.

“Doll,” he warns and unclenches a fist to stop you. “If you keep that up this will be finished before we even start.”

You let out a soft gasp as he helps you stand and pushes you back onto the bed. His hands skim your thighs, pulling your legs up and placing them on either side of his hips. He hovers over you, staring, the curling wisps of his dark hair falling across his forehead.

When he slides his hand between the mattress and your back, you lift yourself, giving him access to unhook your bra. He makes quick work of it but takes his time as he peels it from your body to reveal your breasts.

He stares again, his cheeks flushed and the muscles in his arms and chest straining. You reach for him, pulling him down for a kiss and pressing your bodies together. His lips trail down your neck, to your collarbone, soft nips at your skin before he continues his descent, lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

His tongue teases your nipple then sucks it into his mouth making your back arch in pleasure. He pays the same attention to your other breast, teasing, licking, nibbling, and soothing.

You feel his smile against your skin as he pulls away to kiss down your stomach, keeping one hand on your breast.

His name falls from your parted lips when he presses a kiss between your legs, the thin fabric of your panties doing little to dampen the heat of his breath.

He sits back, gazing down at you, fingers teasing the waistband of lace at your hips.

“Do you want my mouth doll?”

You nod, your hips squirming.

“I want to hear the word.”

“Yes!”

A satisfied look crosses his face as he hooks his thumbs into the soft material and pulls it off, purposefully dragging the tips of his fingers down your thighs and calves.

His kiss is a barely there whisper of his lips to your clit, yet it causes your entire body to quiver. He does it again and again until you’re begging for more.

Finally, his tongue flattens, and he tastes you in a long lick from top to bottom. You cry out, bucking and pushing your hips into his face. He closes his lips around your clit and sucks, applying the perfect amount of pressure to make you tremble.

His hands dig deeper into your thighs, the rings adorning his fingers leaving marks in your skin as your calves come to rest on his shoulders, opening you wider for him. His tongue circles your clit before sweeping lower and dipping inside you. Your fingers grasp his hair, another breathless moan leaving your lips.

After bringing you to the edge he pulls back and lets you catch your breath, but it’s short lived as his finger circles your clit before sliding lower to sink inside you.

“More Bucky,” you breathe.

He pulls his finger out and rubs along your entrance with two, teasing you, before only pushing one back inside.

You bring your hand down toward him, needing more, but he quickly intercepts it. He withdraws his fingers and gathers your wrists together with one hand, bringing both arms stretched out above your head.

“Keep them there,” he orders.

You start to nod but then quickly reply with a breathy, “yes.”

He bends down to kiss you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before sinking his teeth into it. He moves back down your body, his tongue working you over, no longer teasing, but with purpose.

It takes everything in you not to let your hands fall to his hair and when he suddenly pushes two fingers inside you, giving you what you asked for, you moan out in pleasure.

His long fingers reach deep inside you, and combined with his attention to your clit, you can feel your release building.

A warm, tingling sensation spreads through your body and your breathing turns ragged as your muscles tense.

He doesn’t stop, working you through your release and prolonging it until you’re a trembling mess beneath him.

You open your eyes to find him watching you with a heated gaze.

“Fuck doll face. I could watch you come undone for me like that every day for the rest of my life.”

His thumb sweeps over your sensitive and swollen clit and your eyes roll back.

“Again,” he murmurs, dipping between your legs before you can respond.

His lips replace his thumb, his fingers resuming their previous pace as he slides his free hand under your lower back to effortlessly lift you and bring you closer.

Everything feels ten times more sensitive now and you fight with the clashing sensations of pulsating pleasure and the soreness of overstimulation.

You feel your release approaching quickly and your eyes squeeze shut but his commanding voice pulls you from your haze.

“No,” he growls. “Open them. Look at me.”

You obey, opening your eyes again, and the sight of him between your spread thighs sends you over the edge.

“Bucky,” you choke out.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers. “But not nearly enough.”

You struggle to sit up, your eyes falling to his cock resting against his abdominals. He smirks and grips himself, pumping his hand slowly up and down his length.

“Do you need a break doll?”

“No,” you tell him, letting your legs fall open.

He settles between them, his lips kissing your neck and the sensitive spot below your ear. He slides his hand down between your bodies and rubs himself against you teasingly.

“What is it?” he asks, pausing at the slight tensing in your body.

“Nothing Bucky.”

“Tell me doll face,” he demands. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“No!” you say quickly. “No. It’s not that. You’re just…bigger than what I’m used to.”

He smirks, rolling his hips slowly, not pressing in yet.

“You can take it doll.”

His hand moves to your face, grasping your jaw, keeping you looking up at him.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

“Yes Bucky.”

His other hand grips your waist, holding you steady, and your breath catches in your throat as he begins to press into you, then came out in a low moan as he unhurriedly sinks in, making you feel every throbbing inch of him.

Your eyes flutter closed, but then his fingers dig into your jaw, a silent reminder to keep your eyes open. Your body stretches to accommodate him, the initial burn giving way to sweet friction as you relax.

He continues to move maddeningly slowly, his gaze never leaving yours, the intimacy of the moment making your pulse pick up in a way that has nothing to do with his languid movements.

He lets out a soft exhale as he finally stills, settled fully inside you. Your inner walls flutter around him as you adjust to his size, and he pulls back slightly, only to push back in with more force, drawing another moan out of you.

“See doll. You take me so well,” he praises. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” you say, your hands wrapped around his biceps, feeling the power in his muscles as he holds himself over you.

He draws back until only the tip remains inside you and then slips back in slowly. You lift your hips with impatience but his hand pushes on your stomach to pin you back down to the bed.

He leans in to kiss you, softly and with sweet, whispered words. The slow roll of his hips builds tightness in your stomach, and he takes your hand in his, pressing it next to your head, entwining your fingers.

You slide your free hand through his hair, dragging your fingers through the soft strands and then down his neck. He closes his eyes, savoring the sensation, his hold on your hand tightening.

“I could come just from this,” he says huskily, lips dropping down to your ear. “Just from the sight of you completely ruined under me.”

His words make you squeeze around him, and he lets out a low, deep rumbling moan into your neck. You jerk your hips up toward him, your legs trying to draw him closer and deeper.

He lets go, pumping his hips faster, fingers digging into your thigh possessively as your body jolts with the force of it.

With a precise and purposeful rhythm, he keeps a relentless pace until your body explodes with every sensation and all you can do is hold onto him and listen to the rough sound that comes deep from his throat.

He pants against your neck, then trails soft kisses along your jaw to your lips, his kiss slow and deep, making you breathless all over again. Your heart beats frantically between you, his own a rapid thump, thump, thump, against his sweaty chest.

With gentleness he pulls out and lays down next to you, throwing his arm over your waist and curling you toward him. You quickly get lost in his cocoon of warmth, sighing, and closing your eyes, but he presses two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze to his.

“I want to clean you up,” he whispers. “And I want you to stay the night with me.”

Your quiet “yes,” makes him smile proudly and he carefully extracts himself, returning quickly with a warm cloth and delicate hands.

He slides up the bed and pulls you to him, closing the distance and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth and finally your lips. His hand cradles your face, his thumb swiping over your lips, applying enough pressure to part them.

Then his hand glides along your throat and his fingers close around the back of your neck to angle your head in a way that allows him a deeper kiss.

When he pulls away his nose gently bumps yours and he opens his eyes, ghosting his lips to yours as he whispers, “so perfect for me doll.”

[its-luna-noel]

puppy chronicles

01. the broken puppy | gojo x reader

The JJK men are gifted a hybrid puppy. ...wait, that kind of puppy? alpha!human!jjk men x omega!hybrid!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, hybrid!au, omegaverse, hybrid!reader, omega!reader, clan leader!gojo, pet play, collars/leashes, previous abuse, smut, masturbation, heat/rut, knots, oral (f! receiving), mating press

word count: 7.4k next: the obedient puppy | geto x reader

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi there, i couldn't get the idea out of my head so here it is, this is my first a/b/o fic so i hope you enjoy! this one is more exposition-heavy than i plan for the following ones. next up is geto:)

When Satoru Gojo finally takes his seat as clan leader, there’s a line of people eager to pay their respects, to shower him in praise, to give him gifts.

He wants to send them all home; he has enough money to never need a single thing any of them give him, but he sits and smiles and accepts every gift, even from elders who grimace at him and wish he never inherited the techniques he did.

He can’t help but feel a little smug as they turn their back and leave.

It’s clear that many visitors are simply there to try and earn his approval, to get on his good side before he finally makes all the changes he’s dreamed of since he was a teenager, since he saw the injustices of the system they’ve created.

He can’t wait to raze it to the ground.

The procession continues for what feels like hours, until finally, the last visitor approaches his seat, an old woman hunched in her age. She shuffles towards Satoru, and he lets out a silent sigh. She’s one of the original elders, one of the traditionalists that he can’t wait to take down. He’s sure she’s convinced he shouldn’t even be clan leader, despite his power, simply because of his outlook.

Oh, well. Her opinions change very little for him.

She bows before him in a sign of deference. “A gift, for you,” she says, and he almost sighs again, because he doesn’t want whatever she has for him, whatever ceremonial robes or old book of rules or whatever bullshit she’s here to give him.

Instead of handing over a dusty tome or a delicate box, she turns to the side and beckons over one of the bystanders.

Satoru turns to look, still expecting some traditional gift that only a corpse would hand over. But his throat constricts, and his eyes widen, and he’s staring at the young man who approaches.

The man’s hand is clenched, and around his fist is wound a black leather leash, which is pulled taut to keep its captive at heel. The clip of the leash is linked to a matching black leather collar, a silver o-ring pressed into the soft throat of its wearer. And then, startling blue eyes catch on bare skin, and there you are, head bowed and hair curtained around your face as you crawl on all fours towards his seat.

Satoru fights to swallow. He doesn’t know whether to feel disgusted or…aroused. “What is this?” he asks.

The old woman smiles, like the situation isn’t anything strange. “A hybrid puppy,” she says, “for your entertainment.”

His Adam��s apple bobs as he swallows again; his cock bobs as it twitches in his pants. “This is inhumane,” he replies, staring at you, and he tries to pretend that he’s looking at you with concern instead of with rapt attention.

The woman just continues to smile. “Sir, it’s tradition. Take this gift and enjoy.”

And then the leash is placed into Satoru’s waiting hand, and he holds the leather limply as the surrounding crowd bleeds out of the building.

Leaving the two of you alone.

Satoru’s six eyes are all focused on you, examining every part of you, every part of your beautiful body. You’re wearing nothing but the leather collar and a black leather harness, a strappy thing with small silver o-rings at each juncture. From beneath your hair poke two fluffy puppy ears, swiveled backwards in submission, and at the end of your spine is a matching fluffy tail, long beautiful fur obviously well-groomed. Your eyes are on the floor, your hair still obscuring your face, but you sit obediently on your heels, waiting for his command.

You don’t even tug on the leash once.

Satoru swallows again, because his mouth is so dry at the sight of you and all your bare skin, the smooth expanse of your body only broken by erotic black leather, your nipples hard in the slight chill of the quiet room.

His hand tightens around the leash.

He has to take a deep breath, to look away for a moment to gather himself because jesus christ you’re his in every meaning of the word, and the alpha inside him can’t get over that need to touch that body of yours offered so obediently to him. But the rational part of his mind, the human part, recognizes how vulnerable you are right now, how small and helpless you look at the foot of his seat. So he takes another deep breath and finally speaks, finally addresses the hybrid puppy at his feet.

“Are…are you okay?”

The question surprises you; no one’s ever asked you that. You don’t raise your eyes from the floor as you nod.

He’s silent for another moment. Then he speaks again. “Let’s…let’s get you dressed.”

He stands from his seat, and for a moment he’s towering over you, seeing how small and fucking delicious you look at his feet, and he again has to bite back an overwhelming desire to kneel behind you and bite all over you, marking you as his. But he holds back, and he takes yet another deep breath. “Come on…you can stand.”

You freeze at the words; you’ve never been encouraged to stand, to bring yourself up out of your submissive position in order to stand at the same level as those around you. You’ve always been treated like a pet, a puppy, something cute to pet and something sexy to use. And so, in your shock, you finally raise your eyes from the floor, and you look up at him, checking to make sure he really means it.

And then you meet pretty blue eyes, startling in their depth, their brightness, and you’re lost in them for a moment as you wait for confirmation.

He offers a gentle smile, but it wavers like he’s in pain. “It’s alright,” he softly encourages, nodding down to you. “You can stand.”

So you push yourself off the cold floor, stumbling on wobbling legs as you rise to your feet, and he steps forward to catch you, hands catching yours to steady you. “It’s alright,” he says again, but he doesn’t meet your eyes, and you think maybe it’s because he thinks you’re a disgusting hybrid, a little freak, but it’s actually because he’s torn between pitying you and wanting to slam you down onto the floor and fuck you right there, his cock already starting to strain against his pants because he can feel your heat, can feel how soft your hands are, can only imagine how good they’d feel elsewhere– He shakes the thought away.

His large, warm hand rests between your shoulder blades as he leads you out of the audience room of his family home, which now belongs all to him.

He leads you down hallways, through the labyrinth of the Gojo family grounds, across the property until you’re finally following him into his bedroom. A flash of apprehension and even fear spikes into your chest, but you try to swallow it because this is your purpose, this is your calling, to be an obedient little puppy for Satoru Gojo, to follow every order and be the good girl you know you can be. And so once you’re at the bed, you turn to look at him, turn to see if he’s expecting you to go back onto your knees and worship him as the clan leader he is.

Instead he smiles softly, moving to gently pet your hair and your fluffy puppy ears. But when he raises his hand towards your face, you flinch back, averting your eyes towards the ground. And he has to fight to swallow, because he knows puppies only react like that when they’ve been hit before, and a burning fury wells in his chest at the injustice of it all. Who could possibly hurt such a pretty, precious girl? He drops his hand, leaving you untouched, and repeats in a quiet voice, “Let’s get you dressed.”

He has to help you out of the harness, the strappy leather full of confusing buckles and rings. But his practiced fingers make short work of it, and he’s sliding the fabric away, tossing it onto the floor for him to take care of later. Then he moves his deft hands to the collar on your throat, and you flinch once more, like you’re afraid of the power he has when holding you there.

He doesn’t tug, or tighten, or hurt you. He just unbuckles the leather and steps back, holding the collar and leash in his hand as he watches you.

You stare up at him, eyes wide and confused. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve been without a collar, and your throat feels strangely bare without it. Almost unconsciously, you raise your hand to touch your bare skin, fingertips stroking over the cartilage of your trachea…

You’re not sure if he’s giving you freedom or if he’s showing you that you aren’t worthy of his collar. The thought makes your stomach clench, and all of a sudden, tears are welling in your eyes, and your tail tucks between your legs because you can’t bear to think about what will happen to you if you cry right now, but you can’t help it, how have you already lost your collar, you haven’t done anything bad have you–?

Satoru sees your reaction, and his eyes widen, and he drops the collar on the mattress like he doesn’t even care about what that piece of leather symbolizes, and it just makes you cry harder, until sobs shake your shoulders and big, fat tears cascade down soft, round cheeks.

His hands come up to cup those cheeks, thumbs brushing tears away, though they’re quickly replaced with more. You avert your eyes, your fluffy ears pinned down in distress and apprehension, and even though he’s touching you so gently, you’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to raise his hand against you for being an emotional little wreck; you’re supposed to be a fun toy, an amusement park attraction, something to gaze at and play with, not something to watch bawl your little eyes out.

Satoru’s not angry; he’s just starting to panic.

“Sweet girl,” he says, and his voice is so soft and gentle when he speaks, his thumbs still stroking your cheeks, “I just want you to be comfortable. Do you want your collar back? Would that make you happier?”

You whimper, not wanting to say yes, because you shouldn’t have to ask for a collar; he should want to give it to you, should want you to wear his ownership proudly.

His heart nearly breaks at your expression, at how big and watery your puppy eyes look, and he just gently shushes you again, leaning a little closer as his fingers continue to just gently brush over your skin. “It’s okay. I want to get you something you like, alright? Something that fits you better, something that’s ours alone. Is that okay, pretty girl?”

You nod a little, still looking miserable, but the idea of getting a new collar, one that he picks out, one that’s more personal to what he wants from you, soothes a bit of your heartache. You reach up and wipe your tears with the back of your hand, and Satoru can’t help but smile at the endearing motion. One of his hands trails to your chin, giving a gentle squeeze between his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s alright,” he comforts you again, taking a slow step back to give you some room to breathe. You almost don’t want him to; you want him to be close, want him to touch you, want him to grab you, to treat you like a thing to be played with, an object to be thrown around and pinned down and taken–

He doesn’t. And his gentle hands almost burn on your arms, almost ache on your skin, because you don’t understand why he’s doing this. What’s in it for him?

Satoru notices your apprehension, how timid you seem while you wait for him to finally snap and show you how much of an animal he can be, too.

But he doesn’t seem angry with you, nor derisive, nor aggressive; instead he still seems endlessly caring as he hands you clothes from his own wardrobe. He turns back to you, trying not to look at your naked body, at the smooth expanses of skin now unbroken by the leather you’d been strapped into when you arrived. And instead of dressing you like your previous handlers would’ve, he gives you back your autonomy and lets you dress yourself.

The gesture probably means little to him, but for you it’s monumental.

He lets you get dressed, his eyes respectfully averted (even though he’s already seen everything, through the strappy harness you were wearing), and while his gaze is on the opposite wall, you take the opportunity to examine him. He’s handsome, that much you can admit, and seemingly much kinder than the previous handlers you’ve had. He let you stand, let you dress yourself, let you get out of that flimsy outfit you were strapped into before you met him. And you almost want to thank him, but you know better than to speak out of turn, so you just get dressed in what he gave you, warm sweatpants and a big t-shirt that hangs off your shoulders. When you’re done, he clears his throat and returns his gaze to you.

God, you look so adorable in his clothes.

His eyes are soft as he watches you stand there, shoulders stooped in submission, like you’re waiting to be kicked while you’re down. An ache worms its way into his chest, because he doesn’t know how anyone could treat a pretty puppy like you with such an unforgiving hand.

A pretty, obedient, broken little puppy.

But he, even if he can’t admit it to himself, can’t resist saving something broken.

He tilts his head curiously, and he can’t help but ask, “Can you…um, sorry if this is, uh, rude, but… can you speak?”

You nod.

The corners of his lips twitch in a hint of a smile. “Can you say something, then?”

You hesitate, and then in a soft voice, almost like you’re afraid it’s a trap, you ask, “What do you want me to say?”

His smile grows a little when he hears your voice, quiet and timid. “Anything. Whatever you want.”

And so you think for a moment, because you’re so rarely allowed to speak your mind, to say whatever you want, and really at this moment there’s only one thing you want to say. Your fluffy tail swishes nervously from side to side, and you avert your gaze as you whisper, “Thank you.”

His eyes soften once more, and his voice is just as quiet when he asks, “For what?”

You just shrug, eyes on the floor. It’s clear you’re done speaking now, so he decides not to push. Instead he leads you down the hall to the guest bedroom and swings the door open, revealing a plush bed stacked with half a dozen pillows and several blankets.

You can’t help it; your tail wags a little at the sight. You’ve never had your own bed.

Satoru watches your tail swish from side to side, smiling softly. Then he gently tells you, “This room is yours, as long as you want it. Get some rest, alright? I’ll come find you in the morning. Feel free to go down to the kitchen if you get hungry, or come find me if you need anything.” Somehow, he’s pretty sure you won’t be leaving the room for the night, too shy to ask for anything even if you needed it.

So he leaves you with one last smile, and he returns to his room, and his door isn’t even latched all the way before he shoves down his pants and drags out his aching cock, one hand steadying himself against the bedroom door and his teeth digging into his lower lip as his thumb brushes the aching, blushing tip, smearing precum along the slit as he fucks dry into his hand.

He closes his eyes, biting his lip even harder to hold in the whimpers because he can’t get the image of you in that black leather harness out of his mind, the way your tits bounced with every step, your perky nipples hard in the cool air of the estate. How you looked on a leash, at his feet with your perfect fucking pussy on full display for his perverted fucking eyes– Fuck–!

His hips cant forward, stuttering as he squeezes the base of his dick, and he can’t believe he’s touching himself over the thought of your pretty mouth, the way they looked when you spoke, when you thanked him. He wants to give you something to thank him about.

He wants to heal you, wants you to speak, to smile, to laugh. Wants to see that tail wagging again, this time so fast back and forth because you can’t contain your joy.

He wants to save you.

And so, with shoulders heaving and a pathetic little moan stuck in his throat, he cums in his hand, imagining that it was your tight little hole he emptied himself into.

Then, feeling ashamed for the way he objectified you the way you were clearly so afraid of, he cleans up and goes to bed, determined to make it up to you, even if you had no clue what he did behind closed doors.

~

The next morning, when Satoru knocks on the guest room door and pokes his head in, you’re already up, sitting on the bed with perky ears and a wagging tail.

He smiles a little; you look much better than you did last night, with a soft light in your eyes. It looks like sleeping in your own bed and not being subservient for one night lit a bit of a fire under you, and you look like the happy little puppy that you should be. “Hey,” he greets softly, leaning against the doorframe. “Can I come in?”

You nod, tail wagging softly against the sheets. You watch him come into the bedroom, his steps light and quiet, and you can tell he’s trying not to scare you, trying not to force you back into your timid unease from last night. He sits gingerly on the end of the bed, watching you the entire time to make sure he’s not making you uncomfortable by being this close.

You’re not uncomfortable. Your tail wags a little faster, and his smile widens.

“I had my assistant cancel all my meetings today,” he tells you. “We’re gonna go shopping, alright? Get you some things, like toiletries and clothes. Okay?”

You nod, and tilt your head a little to the side. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to speak your mind.

Your voice is still soft and tentative when you speak, like you’re still scared he’ll raise a hand against you if you do. The thought makes his stomach ache. “A…collar?” you ask, and your ears go back nervously, like you’re ashamed to ask for what you want so dearly.

He smiles and nods. “Yeah, I’ll get you a collar, sweet girl. Something we both like.”

So he takes you shopping around town, letting you get anything you like, willing to get anything you ask for. You’re still so soft and timid, but he can pick up on how your eyes catch on a dress you like, on how those eyes widen when you see beautiful jewelry, on how those eyes close when you smell various high end perfumes.

He gets you anything you like, and he can’t help but enjoy spoiling his new puppy.

As you walk along streets and peruse different shops, he glances over at you, unsure if he should ask what he’s been wondering. But he figures if you react poorly he can just make sure you spoil you that much more, so he clears his throat and says, “So…tell me about yourself.”

You glance over, fingers trailing the soft fabric of a sweater you found. “Like what?”

“Anything. Where are you from?”

“The city.”

“What’s your family like?”

You shrug a little, turning your back on the sweater when you see the price tag. Satoru just picks it up anyway and drapes it over his arm. “I don’t really know. I was born and raised in a puppy mill.”

That pulls him up short. A puppy mill? “What?”

You just shrug again, keeping your eyes averted. “It’s pretty common for hybrids these days. Everyone’s trying to make money selling us. Usually they’re bought young, but some of us, like me, are kept past 18 to be trained as collector items.”

That makes him sick to his stomach. “Collector items? That’s…that’s awful, sweet girl.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” He’s frowning at you, watching you navigate the small shop, unsure of how you’re responding to this so casually. “I’m sure they didn’t treat you well there, did they?”

Your voice is quiet. “I guess not.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“They have to train us somehow.”

Satoru can’t decide if he wants to break something or throw up. “Sweet girl, that’s not how it’s supposed to be. You know that, don’t you?”

You just shrug once more, and he’s not sure how to convince you that you should be treated well. Besides just doing it himself.

So that’s what he decides to do.

He can spoil you, and pet you, and give you treats and do anything else your little puppy heart desires, and that’s what he promises to himself. To give you the care, the respect, the adoration you rightly deserve.

Then, finally, he lets you pick a new collar, this one soft and pink, much daintier than the black leather that once adorned your throat. He holds it up, glancing between the accessory and your soft neck, imagining how it will look on you and making sure he likes the mental image. Then he nods, smiles down at you, and pays for that, too.

You’re practically buried in shopping bags when you arrive back at the estate.

Satoru helps you put away your things in the guest bedroom, which he now guesses belongs to you. He hangs up your new clothes in the closet, turning away as you push his sweatpants down over your hips, getting changed into a new outfit that he bought you.

Somehow, that makes him feel just as possessive as seeing you in his clothes.

Then, finally, when you’re dressed and comfortable, he reaches into the final bag to grab your new pretty, pink collar with gentle hands, his long, pale fingers wrapping around the leather. Then he steps in front of you once more, his hands brushing aside your hair in order to bare your throat for him, and you stand perfectly still, accepting your collar.

He gently buckles the collar around your neck, the o-ring resting against your throat once again. The coolness of the metal and the soft touch of leather is almost comforting, sending a shiver up your spine. His fingers gently stroke the rings of cartilage on the column of your trachea, and your lips part a little at the touch, your chin tilting up to give him more room. You watch his eyes, waiting to see if he’s going to grab you and force you against the wall, to take you like you know a strong alpha like him can–

But he doesn’t. He just slowly pulls away and offers another soft smile. “It looks great on you,” he tells you.

And now, seeing the collar that he chose, that he bought, he knows you’re fully his. And that is a responsibility in and of itself, a responsibility to help you heal from whatever it is you’ve been through.

~

The next several days pass without incident, and you slowly get more and more comfortable at the Gojo estate.

You walk around without a leash, your collar still pressed into your throat, on your own two feet, slowly coming out of your subservient nature to become a happy little puppy. Satoru can’t help but smile as he watches you move around his space, around his home. Your tail wags whenever you see him, betraying your excitement, and he can’t help but be endeared by the emotive gesture.

It’s not until your first heat that Satoru starts to struggle.

You’d been on heat suppressants until you came to the estate, and Satoru honestly just forgot that it was important to get you back on hormones if he wanted to respect you and your timid boundaries.

The moment your scent breaks, cloying and sweet, so fucking delicious, he almost throws the dinner table out of the way to get to you and scent you. But instead he just looks up in surprise, and you’re already a blushing, stuttering mess as you scramble from your seat, ears pinned back anxiously. You haven’t had a heat in years, and you’re not sure how to deal with one at this new home, given to this handsome, kind alpha who has taken such good care of you since you were gifted to him.

Despite how hard he’s fighting it, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

His pupils are fully dilated, blown so wide his beautiful blue eyes are just a rim of sapphire around black. He grits his teeth, knuckles turning white as he clenches his fists, hoping his nails digging into his palms will keep him together long enough to get you comfortable and then run like hell to get away from your sugary sweet scent.

His voice is strained when he speaks. “Go on back to your room, okay? I’ll have my assistant bring you some blankets and cushions, and you can get comfortable.” He doesn’t even mention what he wants so desperately to say, that if you start aching, if you need someone, just call his name and he’ll come running to soothe the pain. He assumes you don’t want it.

When he doesn’t offer, you just nod and back away a step, tail hanging low. He must think you’re some disgusting animal, to not want to let out his alpha instincts on you. Must think you’re a freak to not want to bury himself inside you, to give you his knot for your first heat in years.

You don’t let him see your disappointment, your hurt.

You go back to your room, and you’re whimpering into your pillow with how hot and wet you feel, your heat coming back with a vengeance after being on hormones for so long. You bury yourself under the blankets, curling up to ease that cramping ache deep in your core, that need for the alpha that’s only a few hundred feet away.

The alpha who’s fucking his hand – again – right there at the kitchen table because your scent is still in his nose, wrapped around him as he pants and groans, his fist slamming down against the wooden table so hard the legs creak and moan.

His assistant brings you a pile of blankets, pillows, and cushions, getting you ready for nesting. You use your teeth and paws to make a nest, spinning around in circles and tamping down the base of your nest before using cushions and blankets to set up little walls, creating a cozy, dark environment for you to ride out your heat.

Satoru slowly comes back down, going to wash up in the bathroom before he approaches your room. He feels better now, having worked out his aching frustration into his fist, and he wants to check on you to see how you’re doing.

He knocks on the door, steeling himself before swinging it open and poking his head in. He sees your nest, a pile of cushions and blankets all organized in your own way, and he can’t help but smile at the sight, so fucking endeared by how good you are, what a beautiful little puppy you are. “Hey,” he greets, and every time he breathes he can smell you, smell how sweet you are.

Your head pops up out of your nest, and his heart aches at the adorable sight. He can hear your tail wagging against the cushions. “Hi,” you say, and your voice is so soft and quiet, so sweet, that he has to fight not to just push his way in and hold you, because he knows if he crosses that line everything else will just fall away, and it’ll be far to easy to come in and take what he wants, what he thinks you both need.

He steps into the room, movements slow and cautious, not wanting to scare you in your vulnerable position. “How are you doing?”

Your tail is still wagging, moving even faster as he walks a little closer. How are you doing? You’re desperate, you want him, you want to touch him, you want him to use you like the puppy you were supposed to be. Your collar feels nice and comfortable, and you want him to clip a leash onto it and tug and pull, to force you to heel while you take his knot like a good girl.

You don’t say any of that. Instead you say, “Okay. It hurts.”

He makes a soft sound of sympathy, moving a little closer. “I know it does. Do you want some company in there?”

You perk up, and you nod a little, moving away from the entrance to your little nest you made, blankets and cushions arranged in a nice little fort with enough room for both of you. You’re curled up in a corner, and he slowly crawls in, closing his eyes against the swirl of sweet scent that hits him once he’s in your nest.

It’s been so long since you’ve been in heat that you’re unused to how good he smells, how his musk fills your nose and you lean closer, snuffling like a true little puppy as you crawl closer, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, nudging your nose against his scent glands at the base of his neck.

He chuckles quietly, his hands gentle as they rest on your waist, itching to pull you in and wrap you up. He fights the urge. “You like scenting me, huh?”

You nod, still sniffing at his glands, and the scent seems to calm you down a little. You curl up against his side, and you gently lap your tongue against the junction between his neck and shoulder.

He sucks in a sharp breath, body stiffening. “Sweet girl,” he says, voice tight. “Don’t do that.”

You pull back immediately, looking chastised. “M’sorry,” you say.

He looks down at you, examining your shy expression, how your eyes are still looking at that spot on his neck. Your tail is no longer wagging. “It’s alright,” he quietly replies, “but…you shouldn’t do that to just any alpha you come across. It’s very…intimate.”

You tilt your head a little. “You’re not just any alpha; you’re you.”

The statement floods him with equal measures of affection and possessiveness. He has to hold back a groan. “Sweet girl, I’m a patient man, but you can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” You sound stung.

His words come out in almost a growl. “Because I won’t be able to control myself.”

You whimper, and he thinks he’s scared you, but then you lean in a little closer. He can smell your scent even stronger now, and he almost groans, his fingers digging into your waist. “Stop controlling yourself. I’m a good puppy, I promise.”

He grows again. “I don’t doubt that. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please.”

And so, because you’re begging, because he wants to spoil you, because he can’t deny you a goddamn thing, he grabs you, pulling you close. You gasp softly, hands coming to press against his chest as your big eyes gaze up at him. “Tell me you want this, sweet girl.”

You whisper, “I want this, Mr. Gojo.”

He grips you tighter. “Don’t you dare call me that,” he says, tugging your body against his. “When you moan my name, you better call me Satoru.”

And then he grips your hair in one hand and crushes his lips against yours.

You let out a relieved moan, the sound humming against his mouth. You let him carry the lead, let his lips part yours and his tongue brush into the wet heat of your mouth. His lips on yours starts to soothe the pain, the deep ache, but it makes a fire deep inside you burn hot. Your body curves into his, your fingers tentative as they curl into the hair at the back of his head.

He tastes so fucking good.

He pushes you back against the pillows and cushions, pinning you beneath his slim body. His mouth continues to move against yours for several long moments, until he starts to kiss down your neck, towards where the collar sits. You arch your back, curving your body further into his mouth. Your eyes flutter closed, and all you can do is feel as he brushes his tongue against your throbbing pulse.

Then he inches his way lower, and he nips at the collar, tugging on it playfully before pulling back to look at you, a small smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs to you, bumping his nose affectionately against yours. “My perfect little puppy.”

He can hear your tail wagging as he dips closer once more.

He presses a line of kisses down your shoulder, over the top of your chest, nipping at your collarbones lightly, not even hard enough to leave a temporary mark. He’d love nothing more than to mark you up, to leave soft loving hickeys on your skin, but he also can’t stand the thought of leaving bruises on your soft little body when you’ve been through so much.

He won’t do it; not this first time.

His hands move to the hem of your sweater, one of the soft things he bought for you on your first little outing together. He pushes up the fabric to your ribs, fingertips brushing against the soft, smooth skin. You shiver, and he can’t hold back another smile at the feeling of you quivering under his hands. He pulls back enough to examine the look in your eyes, taking in the nervous expression there, how your ears are swiveling anxiously as he touches you so softly, something you’re still not used to.

“You okay?”

You nod, gazing back at him, chest rising and falling a little more rapidly with his hands on you.

“Can I keep going?”

“Oh, yes,” you whisper, and if you weren’t so self-conscious, you’d be begging.

He grins down at you, watching your pretty lashes flutter before diving back down, kissing the exposed flesh of your chest as he pulls your sweater up over your head and tosses it aside. His hands slide up your sides, tugging your body up into a pretty little arch so he can kiss down your torso. His tongue flicks over your nipple, and you whimper quietly when he starts to gently suck.

At the beautiful sounds you’re making, he’s grinding his hips into the soft cushions, searching for stimulation on his already sensitive cock.

He continues kissing down your body, until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. He kisses along the line of fabric, kissing the soft skin just above it, until he uses his teeth to slowly, teasingly pull down the metal zipper. His blue eyes gaze up at you through white lashes, his lips curled into another small smile when your hips rise from your nest. He grips your plush hips, kneading the flesh before pulling down the denim fabric. Then his mouth is back on you, pressing kisses to your thighs, arms wrapping around your limbs and holding you in place while he swipes his long, burning tongue over the thin fabric of your underwear.

God, you’re already dripping.

He groans, lashes fluttering as his eyes fall closed at the sweet, decadent taste of your slick. He moves somehow closer, making out with your cunt through the fabric, drenching it with his spit as he continues to grind against the cushions.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growls into your pussy, lapping at the syrupy taste. “Goddamn.”

You whimper again, hips grinding against his face with a desperation like you haven’t been touched in years, and he wonders if maybe that’s true. That just makes him want to try even harder to make this fucking amazing for you.

He tugs your panties down your legs, lips following his hands until the fabric is removed and you’re left entirely bare beneath him, looking like the prettiest dessert he’s ever seen.

So he leans in, because he’s never been able to resist something sweet, and swipes his tongue over the length of your cunt.

He groans again, the vibrations making something deep in your belly flutter. You taste so sweet that it nearly aches, and he just buries his face deeper between your legs, eating you out sloppily, spit and drool drenching whatever inches of your skin weren’t already soaked with your own arousal.

He can feel the desperation inside him growing.

His tongue lightly brushes your swollen clit, and that small amount of contact is enough to make your hips jump in his hands. He grins, wrapping his lips around you and sucking lightly, tongue still flicking gently. As he does, his fingers come up and spread your lower lips before his long, dexterous middle finger pushes inside your body, curling against your spongy walls.

You let out a soft cry; he just wants you to make those noises again and again. So he starts rubbing your clit with his tongue with fervor as he adds another finger, diving deep inside, earning another moan or whine with every thrust of his hand. His fingers curl again, hitting that spot that makes your back arch so beautifully.

It’s not long before he’s practically drenched to the wrist in your slick.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his tongue still lapping at your clit, “you’re so wet. You ever had someone do this for you, huh? Ever been touched like this?”

You shake your head rapidly from side to side, and he can’t fight the satisfied smile that curves his lips when he sucks your clit into his mouth. The idea that he’s the first one to touch you like this, the first one to bring you this pleasure, especially during your heat, sends a possessive spike through his chest.

He can feel you getting closer with every stroke of his fingers, with every brush of his tongue. You’re tightening around him like a vice, and so he whispers sweet encouragements between your thighs, “Come on, pretty girl… Let go for me… 

You’re fighting it; you don’t want this to end.

You’re whimpering, eyes rolling back, and he just smiles up at you, his free hand gently squeezing your thigh, trying to encourage you to relax. “Come on,” he says again, fingers stroking your g-spot to bring you over the edge, and he watches the muscles in your thighs finally relax before you’re coming, hard, in his mouth.

He moans loudly, licking you through it, his hips grinding against the cushions once more, because fuck, he can’t take it anymore, can’t wait to be inside you.

Once you’ve gone boneless beneath him, chest heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath, he leans up on his knees, pulling off his own shirt and revealing his muscular torso, looking so delicious you want to lean in and lick him clean.

Then he unbuckles his belt, pushing his pants down his strong thighs, revealing the straining bulge in his tight boxer briefs.

And then you watch as he pushes those down, too, revealing his pretty pink cock to your virgin eyes, and you’re practically drooling at the sight.

He puts his hands under your thighs, hauling your legs up and over his shoulders until he’s got you bent nearly in half underneath him. You whimper at the angle he’s got you at, and he takes his weeping dick in his hand and lightly slaps your clit with the glistening head, once, twice. Your body jolts with every smack, and he smiles down at you before aligning himself with your slick entrance. He pushes his hips forward, slowly sliding inside your drenched pussy. Your mouth drops open at the insane stretch of him, of how fucking massive he feels, like he’s stuffing you full as he takes his time splitting you open.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he pauses for a moment, both of you breathing heavily.

“You alright?” he asks, his voice only slightly strained with pleasure. You feel so warm and tight around him, your walls fluttering with every breath, and he’s not sure how long he can last with how fucking good you feel.

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes, swollen lips pouted out with every huff of breath. “Please,” you whine quietly, hips shifting under his, “need you.”

And so he starts to move, dragging his aching cock nearly all the way out of you before slowly pushing back in, and your eyes roll back into your head at how full you feel. You’re pretty sure you can feel him all the way up into your mouth at this point, with how far he seems to be buried inside you, and then he pulls out back before repeating the motion, over and over again, fucking you slow and affectionately into the cushions.

You hope every heat is like this.

Your lips are parted, and you’re drooling at how perfect this feels, saliva dripping out of the corner of your mouth, and he leans in, crushing your own thighs against your chest. His tongue runs along the corner of your mouth, licking up your own drool, and then he pushes his tongue back into your mouth, feeding you back your own saliva mixed with his.

It’s filthy, it’s delicious, it’s divine.

His tongue swirls with yours, and you’re hardly even kissing at this point, it’s just the two of you tasting each other. 

And as you taste, as he continues to fuck you gently, you feel the desperate stretch of his knot, the swelling base of his cock.

On instinct, you nearly go feral for it.

“Please,” you whimper into his mouth, and when he pulls away a little to ask what you want, you just reach down and grab his hips, holding him close as he continues to gently rock into you. “Please please please…”

Your nails dig into his slim, muscular hips, and he grunts at the slight pain, at the tiny crescent marks you leave on him. He growls in your ear, leaning down to nip at your neck, right above your pretty new collar. “Yeah? You want my knot, huh, pretty girl? Want me to give you a puppy?”

You whimper again, louder this time, higher in your register, because all you can do is shudder under the weight of your instincts to take his knot, to take his puppies. You nod so desperately that your hair flutters around your face, getting stuck in the wet spit at the corners of your mouth. His eyes flash and he leans in again, his lips finding the source of your sugary sweet scent. Then he parts his lips and sinks his canines into your scent glands, pupils blown wide, running purely on instinct as he bites. You cry out, and you’re not even sure if it’s in pleasure or pain or some delicious combination of the two. And your heart thumps with vigor at how much affection you’re nearly drowning in as he mates with you.

And as he bites, he cums, filling you with his seed, burying so deep that he empties himself right against your cervix. And he sinks his knot all the way into you, stretching you all the way open, plugging your quivering pussy until he’s sure his seed will take.

And while you both come down from the high, he kisses along your cheeks and nose and forehead and jaw, making sure you know you’re worthy of being adored. That you are worthy of being saved.

Of being loved.

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next: the obedient puppy

[alba1221141]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

10

(T.W sexual content)

Jinx

She tasted like berries.

Sweet, but not in a fake, sugary way—real, ripe, and just a little tart. Like she’d bitten into something moments before and I was just catching the aftertaste.

It’s been hours, but I swear I can still feel the ghost of her lips on mine, still hear that little hitch in her breath when I pressed closer.

Fuck.

I flop back onto my bed, arm draped over my eyes, trying to will away the ridiculous grin stretching across my face.

It’s stupid.

I’m being stupid.

But my brain keeps looping it—her fingers in my hair, the way she shivered when I kissed down her neck, the way she didn’t pull away.

I run my tongue over my lips absentmindedly, half-expecting to taste her again.

I don’t, obviously.

But damn, do I want to.

I roll over onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow, but I can’t seem to shake the feeling. That kiss—it keeps coming back, like a song stuck on repeat.

It’s like the air’s different now, charged in a way it wasn’t before. It’s heavier, thick with something I can’t name yet.

My mind spins with thoughts of her—Y/N, all quiet and measured and impossibly soft—yet when we kissed, she wasn’t like that at all.

She was there, fully present, her breath hot against my skin, her hands steady as they tugged at my hair.

I let out a frustrated sigh and punch the pillow beneath me. This isn’t helping. It’s just making me more wound up.

But the thought won’t leave me, won’t stop scratching at the back of my mind: What if she wants more? What if I want more?

I sit up and swing my legs off the bed, pacing back and forth. Fuck. What am I even supposed to do with this?

I know I’m a mess. I’m always a mess. But with her? I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt to have her close, to kiss her. It wasn’t just about the kiss itself, but everything around it—how she reacted, how her body moved, how I felt with her.

The problem is, I’m not sure if she feels the same.

I need to know.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

Y/N

It's pouring down. The sky is an endless wash of gray, with rain slashing against the windows like a thousand tiny blades.

The world outside feels muffled, like the storm’s swallowing everything whole, and inside, it’s just me, wrapped in the quiet of my room.

I’ve been staring at the books on my shelf, picking up one, setting it down, picking up another, but none of them seem to hold my attention. Not when my mind keeps drifting back to her.

To Jinx.

The way her lips felt, soft yet sure against mine. How everything inside me seemed to catch fire for just a second. I’ve been trying to tell myself it was nothing, just a moment, but it wasn’t just a moment. Not to me.

The sound of something scraping against my window shatters the silence, and my heart skips a beat. I stand up, instinctively moving toward the sound. When I reach the window and pull it open, I nearly stumble back in shock.

Jinx’s face peeks through the rain-soaked window, her eyes gleaming with that same wild energy I can never quite place.

Her lips curl into a mischievous grin, and without missing a beat, she launches into a dramatic, over-the-top quote. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. And none but fools do wear it, cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love!”

I blink, momentarily thrown off by her theatrical entrance. My pulse quickens, not just from the surprise but the way she’s looking at me, the intensity of her gaze almost too much to bear. “What… what are you doing?” I ask, trying to regain some semblance of composure, even as my heart hammers in my chest.

She just grins, that wide, almost-dangerous grin of hers, and without any hesitation, she climbs in through the window, her drenched clothes sticking to her like a second skin.

Water drips off her, splashing onto my floor, but she doesn’t seem to care.

"Jinx," I start, my voice tinged with concern, "You're going to freeze."

"Well, warm me up," she says, her voice playful, daring, and that's all it takes. Her lips are on mine again, sudden, hot, and desperate in a way that makes my breath catch.

It’s different this time—more urgent, more consuming. I don’t have time to think before her hands are pulling me closer, pushing me to match the intensity she’s giving. Her body presses against mine, the cold of the rain outside clashing with the heat building between us. The wetness of her hair still clings to her skin, but it’s all forgotten, lost in the wave of sensation that crashes through me.

I’m lost in the kiss, her taste, the way her lips mold to mine like we’ve done this a hundred times before, even though we haven’t. My pulse quickens, the tension in my chest tightening as her hand trails up to cup my face, her thumb grazing my cheekbone.

I want more.

My hands slowly trail underneath the sopping clothes that cover her skin.

"You need the take these off, you'll catch hypothermia," I try to make it sound informative, I really do, but she knows, and I know, I just want her clothes gone.

A grin splits across her face, "You trying to get me naked toots?"

I feel the blood rush to my cheeks, "And what if I was?"

"We'll then i'd say tit for tat,"

"Pardon?"

"I'll get naked if you do," Her cheeks dimple in the corner when she says that.

Oh.

Oh.

I normally would be hesitant. I've never been bare before someone before, but it's her and like she said, tit for tat.

My hands abandon her t-shirt and go to the hem of my nightie instead. And she's watching me, eyes almost lidded. A heat spreads over my skin when my shirt falls to the ground.

"Tit for tat," I murmur waiting for her to follow suit.

And she does, slowly peeling the damp clothes from her body, discarding them on my carpet, there was inevitably going to be a stain later.

My eyes follow her movements intently, almost greedily, until she rids herself of every obstructing item. Apart from her underwear, pink with blue stripes, they remain, clinging to her hips, molded to her body like they're painted on.

I let out a breath.

She tilts her head to the side, a Cheshire cat like grin resting on her lips, "You good toots?"

I manage a nod, which makes her giggle and walk closer.

"Y/N-"

I avoid her gaze completely, eyes focused on my feet, the floor, anywhere but her.

Her hips, her thighs, her waist, her breasts—

"Y/N," she repeats, more instant this time. My head snaps up, just in time to see her grab at my waist and smash her lips to mine once again.

I know what to do now, with the kissing.

I part my lips, just a bit, and her tongue delves in immediately, a sound, I'm not sure whether mine or hers, echoes between us.

It's different living a situation like this, rather than reading this, I've read many erotic stories before, but never would I have thought it would be this—good.

My fingertips trail down her line of her spine, following it down until it flares into the curves of her hips, and then further, until somehow my hands end up splayed over her ass.

All that cockiness she had fades the second she whimpers against my mouth. I swallow the sound greedily tugging her closer.

I part to breathe but—god the need for oxygen seemed trivial in comparison to her lips.

Jinx seems to grow tired at being the object of desire, and mimics what my hands did to her, simultaneously shoving me back slightly.

The backs of my knees collide with my bed and it sends us toppling onto my sheets. She lands on top of me in a very compromising position and I can't help the laugh that leaves my lips, light and practically joyous.

The sound gets kissed away.

Our lips are more feverish against eachothers now, she just keeps kissing me, as if my lips hold the answers to all her impossible questions.

Perhaps they do.

When I break away only to gather air, I notice that the deep mauve shade of lipstick that normally stains her lips has smudged, leaving a messy, almost reckless trace across her mouth, as if the kiss had drawn out every last bit of control from both of us.

My breath hitches when she finds another spot to target with her lips. My neck.

"Oh, oh Jinx—"

I can hardly recognise the sounds leaving my lips now, obscene and completely lewd as Jinx litters my neck with kisses, she seems determined almost trying to find that spot, the one that would draw the nicest sounds from m—

She found it.

A sound—practically pornographic—comes from deep in my throat and I know she hears it because her kisses halt and she lifts her head from the crook of my neck, peering down at me.

A grin spreads across her face, and she looks so insanely smug that I don't know whether to roll my eyes or kiss her again.

I settle for the latter.

She snickers against my lips, and the sound reverberates through my chest, a warm and fuzzy thing.

"Y/N," She murmurs between kisses and its so soft, so tender, so completely uncharacteristic for her, but the tone, it makes me melt.

"Jinx," I try to mimic her tone, trying to make myself sound sultry, but I fear it was painfully obvious that I had no experience.

My sexual knowledge consisted of tales of regency scandals, love found in prosperity, but not this, me, me and another girl, almost nude in my bed.

But she doesn't seem to mind, just smiling at me again before resuming those neck kisses, and my god, they're just so good.

My hands fall from her body, instead gripping the sheets, as she continues her assault on the skin of my neck.

She's biting, and sucking, and everything in-between, and I can practically feel the welts, the bruises forming. And I don't think I mind.

Her kisses travel down, down my stomach, then my naval, but when she gets to the spot between my thighs, she pauses, falters.

I would've assumed Jinx had gone down on girls before, but her reaction seems to be telling me the opposite.

"Jinx—" The word comes out breathy and needy, she knows what I'm asking for.

And so slowly, her fingers, still painted in that alternating blue and pink, hook into the sides of my underwear, making an attempt to pull them down.

I giggle, lifting my hips to assist her, I know it's going to be a vulnerability that I've never allowed myself before...but it's Jinx, its Powder.

My Powder.

When the dampened fabric has been tossed aside, she hooks her arms around my thighs, tugging me just a little closer.

She breathes and it's shaky, she's nervous too. But nerves become the second thought when that warm puff of air brushes over my pussy making me shudder.

I want to watch what she does, but my head lolls back onto the pillow. One of my hands leaves the sheet, twisting into her damp blue strands.

The flicks of her tongue are mere caresses at first, like an exploration, but then something snaps, she locates my clit, swirling her tongue around it, before sucking, hard, enough to make me yelp.

That noise only spurs her on, her nails making crescent moon shapes in the skin of my thighs as she tries to devour me whole.

It's working.

She tugs me impossibly closer to her face and her mouth envelopes me fully, making my back arch of the bed and more obscene sounds leave my lips.

"Oh! Fuck, Jinx!"

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

She tastes fucking fantastic.

It's that sweet tart taste all over again. And holy shit is at addictive.

I pull her closer running my tongue over clit, just teasingly, just to see what she'll do.

She likes it.

Y/N's back arches and her hips buck against my mouth, certain choice words leaving her lips.

God she'd scold herself if she heard the foul language she's using.

My tongue slips further down, towards her entrance, and she's damn dripping.

"Fuck," I breathe against her and my voice must've done something because her thighs twitch again.

My eyes flicker up to hers and I hold eye contact as I slowly slip my tongue inside of her.

"Jinx, holy shit!" Her voice is breathy, almost pathetically needy as I slowly start to swirl my tongue around.

She tries to maintain eye contact as my lips and mouth move in tandem to give her what I know she needs, but she's not successful, head lolling back onto her pillow, mouth parting in an O shape.

My hands leave her thighs, two fingers sneaking down to her clit, rubbing slow circles as my tongue continues those relentlessness movements that she seems to like.

She's whining and squirming and trying to muffle herself in her pillow and it might just be the hottest thing I've experienced.

Well until...

My name—or variations of it on her lips when she cums.

"Jinx, fuck! Pow, Powder!"

Her back arches off the bed, hands clawing so hard at her sheets I'm sure they'll tear.

I don't let up, licking up all her sweet liquid like it's some sort of aphrodisiac. Maybe my new favourite one.

She does eventually cease my incessant licking, trying to tug me up to her level.

I go to pout, but seeing the look on her face, all soft and wanting, I resign, instead shifting next to her, lacing our fingers together.

"You okay toots?" I tilt my head waiting for a response, but due to her brain cells currently not functioning I have to repeat myself.

"Toots? Earth to Y/N," I wave my hand in-front of her face. She regains her senses with a giggle before nodding, still slightly cross eyed.

"I've never been better." She murmurs still all soft and sweet, before pulling me a tiny bit closer and placing a kiss on my lips.

And fuck, I just wanna stay like this forever.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: they finally got 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, hope you liked it ;)

please like and reblog <3

[annabelle--cane]

(ao3)

The best part is, it’s not even a lie.

The words drop from her mouth like rotten dates as she kneels on the ground outside that hideous portal, and she doesn’t even have to lie.

“He was protecting me, that Archivist thing tried to, to drink up my memories, and he tackled it, I think, and both of them must have fallen--and I passed out.”

Alice doesn’t break down. It’s written over every inch of her face that she wants to, and Celia can feel it in her body’s tension when she’s pulled in close, but she just about holds it together. Not stoic and steely, but on the move. Not giving into despair. She keeps up a good natter as they start their return-trip.

“This wormhole or whatever, it’s come up in loads of cases going back years, right? And Gwen says that Lena’s been, well, a lot more hands-on then she looks, so she must know something about it, must be able to help. You can, just, go back home and rest, try to sleep off some of the panic with your kid, and I’ll go track down Lena. We can get started on fixing this.”

Celia nods, waiting on the train platform. If Sam comes back then the universe would be back out of balance, she’d have to start all over again. Pick someone new to spend months with and slowly gain their trust to the point where they ignore all her secrets and convince themself it was their idea to go to the Hilltop.

No, she stops her mind mid-thought. No, it was Sam’s idea. She was always careful to wait until he said the word, let him take the lead, she never pushed. Even earlier today, he brought up going to Oxford, he ignored the danger, he insisted on it being just the two of them, he almost made her physically restrain him before she finally backed down. And she told him that it was dangerous. Said not to thank her.

It’s not a lie. She didn’t do it. She didn’t kill him.

Her memory isn’t clear, as soon as her story started projecting out of her it had been like she was back in her Hell again. Like she was losing everything that meant anything to her again. Her name, her mind, her memories, everything about who she was, right back to year dot again. Her greatest fear--no, her greatest Fear made manifest once again, returning to that neverending torment of being eternally unmade over and over every time she managed to pull together any scrap of self. She can’t remember who she was before, but she knows damn well who she is today, and she actually likes being Celia. In that moment, she knew that she would do anything to avoid being sent back to that place. She could not let it happen.

Then, as she’d been rescued from her Hell the first time, she was saved once again. She heard more than saw Sam leap at the creature. And then she woke up and Alice was there. Perfect. She didn’t even have to make the call. Everything she wanted, all with her hands still clean.

They tremble as she takes her seat in the carriage.

She darts a glance at her companion, and Alice’s eyes are glued to the window like she’s scanning for someone, just making sure there’s no one rushing after them.

Celia likes Alice. Sam had liked Alice, too, even if the relationship had been vexed. And Sam had liked Celia enough to save her and doom himself in the process despite knowing her motives. He might not even mind.

He certainly can’t mind from where he is.

Loathing herself with every word, and letting that hatred play openly over her face, Celia says, “This all feels like my fault.”

Alice snaps around towards her with vicious purpose. “Don’t say that.”

She doesn’t even have to lie. Every tear of anguish that rolls down her cheeks is completely heartfelt. “I’m the one who mentioned this place to begin with, and he sacrificed himself to protect me, if I hadn’t--”

“No,” intercuts Alice, taking both of Celia’s hands in hers. “No, I’m not having any of that from you. You’ve just lost someone--” she swallows thickly-- “We’ve both just lost someone. Not necessarily for good, mind you, but. Yeah. And Sam, he…” Her mask almost falters, her role almost giving way to her true center, but she stands her ground. “He made his own choices, alright? I know from plenty of personal experience, you can never make that man do something he doesn’t want, no matter how much you try to shield him. It’s not your fault.”

Celia’s entire insides burn up as she lets the deceptive reassurance melt into her deceptive heart. Everything about her is a facile fiction built from the ground up over the last few years, so she tries desperately to plaster this in to who she is. She tries to make the not-lie real. She listens to this woman who cares about her tell her that it’s not really her fault, and like the worm she is she curls up into herself in sobs, letting Alice pull her in for comfort. Alice strokes down her hair and it feels like hot iron on her scalp.

It’s not a lie. She didn’t do it. She didn’t kill him.

Plenty of people have managed to survive the instant starvation.

[wtfdemother]

NSFW - MDNI 👑

cw: fluff, thigh riding in the middle of the night

His eyes snap open, body tensing on instinct from your subtle, needy movements. You were trying to be discreet, to soothe the ache below the navel without disturbance but alas. The thick, meaty arm around you tightens its hold, König throws a leg over your hip, caging you in while he sandwiches the other between your legs. He can feel his dick tighten in his boxers as you grind against his thigh again, softer this time. “Baby...”

He buries his face in your hair, slowly inhaling the scent of your conditioner, taking you in, making his head spin from the sweetness. His heart races as he tries to calm himself, but it's difficult with the way you're subtly seeking friction against him. He flexes the muscle in his thigh, rubbing more deliberately against your covered heat.

He kisses your hair, his breaths growing heavier, more ragged. König guides you with a hand splayed under you, the pressure slowly building. He's careful not to go too fast, letting the warmth slowly trickle down your belly, relishing the quiet whimpers you made in the crook of his neck. “Shhh… I know, I know.”

He makes you cum on his thigh, feeling your pussy throb on his bare skin, your slick covering his hairy leg riding out your lip biting orgasm.

A groan slips past him, he feels his control gradually decline. König rolls you onto your back, peppering kisses where he could. One hand reaches between your legs, almost peeling your panties to the side before pressing two thick fingers against your soaked entrance. “So fucking wet already…” he mutters approvingly moments before pushing his fingers in, finding little to no resistance.

Your toes curl from the delicious stretch, head falling back blissfully onto the pillows. He gently cups the side of your face, capturing your lips in a soft, languid kiss. His tongue slowly slides inside your mouth, committing your taste to memory.

His palm bumps repeatedly against your clit, you try bucking your hips to get more friction onto your swollen nub but König catches on too quickly, “Nein, Schatz, have patience…”

He fingers you slow, grinding the inside of a calloused hand over your sopping cunt. “I have to prepare you for my cock, you know this. Shhh, just a little more.” He speaks with such confidence, so secure in himself that you can’t help but flutter your eyes shut and enjoy the slow burn, letting it consume you whole.

He pecks you on the forehead, a knowing smile passes between you two when you open your eyes again, safe and sound while he holds you tight. König furrows his brows in concentration, slowly sinking himself into your warmth. Silky walls hug every vein that protrudes from his girth, soothing his every nerve like a balm as he slips in and out of you.

He makes love to you, taking his time despite the growing need for more, his tongue lazily exploring the depths of your mouth while he swallows your moans, marking your neck in kisses and bites.

Once he spills himself deep inside, König collapses on top of you, feeling your pussy pull him deeper with every squeeze, every throb from your new orgasm. He doesn’t pull out, refuses even to do so, he just wants to hold you tight until you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

[maxybabyy]

part four to my max run club verse (slightly au of the orignal plot)

Daniel is three drinks deep and spilling his fourth when he sees him.

He’s taller than Daniel thought he would be, probably has an inch or two on Daniel, long limbs stretched out where he leans against the bar. There’s a smile on his face, and Daniel catches himself leaning in, squinting to find the tiny dot just above his lip.

The mole is there. It hasn’t somehow disappeared between now and the video he had watched before bed, Scotty asleep next to him.

That isn’t always the case, he knows. Sometimes they remove it. But it makes the fans freak out so someone must have told them to leave it. Daniel probably wouldn’t do it now, but he had done it like maybe once. Drunk off his ass asking Red Bull Running what the fuck they thought they were doing, editing people’s faces like that.

Blake had made him delete it, but his point still stood.

Daniel watches Max laugh with his entire body, one arm thrown around his waist as the other grips the bar. He throws back his head as his shoulders shake, and Daniel cannot look away, perversely obsessed with this new side of Max that he hasn’t seen before.

His chest burns with heat, with the thought that maybe he’s the only one to see Max like this. Other than like, Max’s friends and family. But of his fans, Daniel could be alone in this.

He hadn’t given it much thought when Scotty had asked him to come, “There’s like this Red Bull thing that I have to go to. It’s in Austria, but it could be fun. Do you wanna come with?”

He thought maybe Scotty would make them go skiing, and Daniel would do a slope or two before going to work on his tan. At night they would fuck in the hot tub, laugh about the mess, and then do it again the next night. A chance to reconnect, Daniel had thought, and wouldn’t that have been nice?  

Now someone brushes against him, and it makes Daniel jump.

His drink is empty, but it wobbles in his hand, threatening to spill when someone wraps their fingers around his. Long elegant fingers stretched around him and the glass. Trim nails prick his skin, and a shiver runs down his spine.

“Nice catch, mate,” Daniel says and flexes his hand, testing a grip that doesn’t relent.

“Hello,” someone says, and the voice is so fucking familiar that it makes Daniel’s head whip up to look at the man in front of him, at Max. “I brought you a drink.”

There’s an open bar, still Daniel takes the drink without complaint. Max doesn’t let go of him, and Daniel doesn’t move, their hands cradled awkwardly between them until his fingers start to twitch. Even then, Max is slow to step back, hands shoved loosely into the pockets of his jeans.

“Thank you,” Daniel says and takes a sip. It’s a gin and tonic, light on the tonic. Max had smelt of it too, the pine sticky on his lips. Daniel licks them again, tries not to imagine if Max would taste like it too.

“You were staring,” Max says tells him.

“Yeah, I was, kinda,” Daniel says with a laugh. Now when he looks at him, Max is watching him back. That’s another thing the videos hadn’t prepared him for, the unrelenting eye contact. For once, he doesn’t squirm under the weight of his stare. Instead, the feeling in his chest grows, preens at the attention. “Bit of a fan, actually.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at that, and Daniel’s breath catches in his throat.

“No, I’m serious,” Daniel insists. For months, he had been saving videos of Max on a playlist to watch later –  most of them of him running, but some of them not – only to find that other people were saving the list. Now, ‘mv jom’ has been privated but it still lives at the top of his page. “I’m like, a big fan of your moaning.”

Max’s laughter is loud enough that the people around them turn around to watch. GP, who must have travelled with Max, stares at them from across the room, and Daniel wants to die.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Your running, that’s what I’m a fan of,�� Daniel says while he waits for the ground to swallow him. “Helped me out big time while I was rehabbing.”

“Your knee, no?” Max asks. “From the accident?”

Blood rushes in his ears, and Daniel swallows what’s left of his drink. He has to focus to ease the frown from his face, but confusion still pricks his skin, and even the softened look on Max’s face doesn’t soothe him. “Yeah, how did you know?”

Max’s tongue traces the corner of his mouth, and when Daniel mirrors him, his tongue comes away wet, “Maybe I am a big fan also.”

Daniel tries to laugh, but his mouth feels too dry.

Max steps closer, the tips of his shoes touching the insides of Daniel’s, and offers him the rest of his drink. Daniel takes it, hand shaking as he replaces Max’s mouth with his own.

“Actually, I thought you were of course staring because you wanted to fuck me,” Max tells him then.

“What?”

But Max isn’t done. He takes another step, and their knees bump against each other. Daniel feels Max’s breath on his skin, and the mole he had squinted at before is now close enough to touch. “It is of course better like this, already you know that I am very flexible,” he adds. Casual, like that isn’t the exact thought Daniel’s been trying to squash since he first saw him.

Because Daniel does already know how Max looks on his knees. Bent over so deeply that his chest had pressed against the floor, thighs spread obscenely wide – “Big breath here, just a little deeper. For me, please? You can do it.” – to get the right stretch.

It wouldn’t be hard to fuck him like that, he reckons, Max’s body loose and malleable underneath his hands. Not like how Daniel’s knee still aches when Scotty tries to fuck him from behind.

“I mostly just listen to the audio guides,” Daniel lies, voice faint.

“Always I can just show you instead,” Max offers. His thigh presses in between Daniel’s, and his jeans feel rough against Daniel’s dick. “Like this, it will be so lovely also.”

Daniel chokes on his spit, and Max must be close enough to hear the awkward clench of his throat. But maybe he doesn’t notice, too busy touching the shiny lapels of Daniel’s suit jacket. He doesn’t quite tug at the fabric, but Daniel leans in anyway.

“I did not know that you were sponsored by Red Bull,” Max says. The intensity of the eye contact doesn’t ease up close, and Daniel’s chest feels dangerously tight. “I have not seen you here before.”

Daniel licks his lips, “I’m not.”

“Are you here with someone?” Max asks.

He thinks of Scotty watching them from across the room, of all the shit he had talked about Max after finding the videos. He thinks of how Scotty had fucked him then, hard and fast, biting marks into his neck like they were nineteen and sleeping with other people. He thinks of Scotty behind him, arm around his waist as he watched Max with dark eyes, “Who’s your friend, DR?” He would ask like he didn’t already know.

But most of all, he thinks of Scotty fucking Chloe Stroll in their LA home. Of finding out via texts Scotty had been dumb enough to keep.

Everything gets a little easier after that.

[sugarcubeindulgent]

can we PLEASEEE get reader out freaking pete 💔 like you said in ur post, SNUFF. THAT. MAN.

crazy girls | pete dinunzio x f!reader

synopsis. there are no protests from pete when you want to try something new. much to the joy of your hurt and anger.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ contents. established relationship. nonconsensual drugging mentioned. explicit content. snuff. gore. blood. p in v. implied cheating. wound fingering(?). jealousy.

a/n: so true, i simply must! many requested reader matching or out-freaking pete so i hope this is okay-ish at the very least! thank you for the request, anon!

Pete is usually a restless sleeper. Flailing around and snoring, unable to keep his hands off of you. You’re a bit warm in the chest as you watch him on the bed. He’s so calm beneath the blanket of slumber, his enviously long and dark eyelashes fanning his cheeks covered in acne scars. Still a hard sleeper, you’re not surprised he didn’t react or stir while you were spending your time tying his wrists to the headboard and ankles spread. Pursing your lips while watching the slow rise and fall of his chest covered in a spread of dark hair that trails a line down to his mess of pubes around his exposed cock and balls, you wonder how long it’ll be until he wakes up. Usually, with the dosage you used, you wake up earlier. Curiosities pause when he groans after a deep exhale.

Smiling, you gently fix the pretty lingerie you wear and you hold your wrist behind your back while watching him from where you stand in front of the foot of the bed.

Dark eyes slowly flutter open, Pete’s first instinct to run a hand down his face makes him grunt when the coarse ropes usually used on you catch his wrist. His eyes widen beneath his dark unibrow and he looks to his wrist with wide eyes. Then he looks down at his body and his jaw goes slack in shock. “What the shit…”,he breathes sharply before his eyes land on you. Immediately, he calms down but a smile of excitement spreads on his face. Swallowing the bitterness at the back of your throat, you slowly step forward. “Did you drug me?”,Pete asks so casually before he shakes his head,”I told you I didn’t want that.”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug while crawling onto the bed. His eyes look along your body not-so-hidden beneath a pretty silk slip in your favorite shade. “As if “no” has a place in our relationship.”,you scoff while you stop between his thighs, sitting on your legs when he laughs. A gentle shrug moves your shoulders and your hands settle down on his hairy thighs, gently squeezing some of the meatiness. “But I wanted to try something new. I know we’ve done almost everything under the sun but…this just came to me a month ago.” Your hands slide up his thighs, then down, gently scraping his tanned skin with your nails.

Pete tilts his head, holding the knots of the ropes attached to the headboard. “Why didn’t you bring it up earlier? Y’know as long as you’re not touchin’ my ass I’m game. Didn’t need to drug me.”,then he grins crookedly and shrugs,”But it is hot.”

You can tell he thinks so, looking down at his soft cock that’s already sporting a chub. Tingles run down your chest to your stomach and down between your thighs as you crawl further to straddle his waist – his cock directly behind your ass that settles on his navel. Pete’s breathing is uneven, he looks up at you with excitement and joy. Your bitterness coats the inside of your mouth, hands splaying on his hairy chest where his gold chain rests. The one you got him for his birthday. Your smile widens while you lean down.

“Shut up.”,you hum with more bite than you meant to. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice or even care when your mouth connects with his.

Kissing Pete you can taste a bit of that sourness from the roofie, your tongue slipping along his as he groans and you moan. Admittedly enjoying yourself, you can tell he is yet again. His hard cock presses up against the back of your ass, you feel the tip press to the fabric keeping your skin apart from his. Your hips rock gently against his stomach and your eyebrows sew up, whimpering softly at the feeling of his skin against your exposed cunt. When your teeth catch his lower lip, he grunts when you bite hard and let his lip snapback.

“Fuck…”,he sighs, blood beading where you bit him. He licks the blood away and smiles up at you. “You not wearin’ any panties?” In response, you smile a bit bigger and you grasp the hem already riding up your thighs. Exposing your mons pubis to him, Pete looks down and he exhales deeply with a nod of eagerness. “Look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy. All mine…” Your jaw clenches and you lean down, kissing along his neck while you shift your hips back. Arousal from your cunt drags on his happy trail before he sighs in bliss feeling your wet cunt slide up his cock.

Some part of you feels he doesn’t deserve this. Not your cunt, not the pleasure that’s leaving bites on his throat and shoulders gathering with blushing bruises and some drawing of blood – but you don’t want to deprive yourself of it. Still, the bitterness continues to rise like foam and bile so you grab his cock and you align it with your cunt. He pulses twice in your hand while you look down and slowly push the fat tip in. Then your hands press to his chest, splayed, while you lower down onto his thick cock. A long moan leaves your lips, a harmony to his long groan and the stutter of his hips.

His cock is so fat it always feels like you’re taking it for the first time. Your head dips back, feeling that delicious sting of a stretch as you lower yourself on his cock. Furrowing your eyebrows, Pete grunts when you dig your nails into his chest. Fisting your fingers in his chest hair, he hisses and his hips shift up to shove the rest of his inches into your cunt. Your eyes shoot wide before they roll at the full feeling, that pleasurable pain of his girthy, fat cock.

Swallowing thickly, you slowly dip down your head and look at Pete when he starts to impatiently push his hips up and down. You whine and you lean down, you begin to move your hips up and down, ass smacking against his sack as your cunt squeezes him and swallows him every time you pull up. Hot pleasure shoots across every nerve, coils around your stomach deliciously and flutters through your cunt euphorically. With a moan, you continue to ride Pete as he tugs at the ropes keeping his wrists up – no doubt despising being unable to touch you and turn you over to split you in half.

Your eyes slowly open to look down at Pete, his flushed face and expression of arousal and need. That bitterness comes up and you take him in for a moment before your hands slip down his chest, shoulders, then to the pillow beneath his head.

“Baby?”,you breathlessly call. Pete’s eyes flutter open and you stop bouncing, you slowly slot him deep inside of you, sitting down on his cock with a shudder of pleasure. When your fingertips of your dominant hand brush that cool surface, you tilt your head at his perplexed and annoyed face that you’ve stopped. “I moved here for you.” Pete’s unibrow furrows and he blinks softly, sweating a bit as you tug out what’s beneath the pillow once you get a grip on the handle with a tilt of your head. “I’ve done nothing but be a good girlfriend, right?”

“Y-Yeah? The fuck are…” Pete trails off when the large and sharp kitchen knife catches the light of the warm lamp on the nightstand. For a moment there’s an excitement in his face, an eagerness – but then he looks at your features when you start to ride him again while you press the tip beneath his navel. “Babe – g-get off of me.”

“I mean, I’ve done so much for you…I–I love you.”,you trail up the knife.

Pete swallows thickly and grunts, his cock pulsing in you as wet noises of you coming down on his cock and sliding up fill the air. He tugs at the restraints hard, so hard his skin begin to drag and redden. “Get the fuck off of me! I’m not fuckin’ playin’, tits. I–This isn’t how we–”

And suddenly, when you bring up the blade and stab it down – your guess is maybe his pancreas, he screams, his back arching and making you moan when his cockhead presses up into a delectable spot.

Still, important matters, you look down at Pete and you yank the blade out as he’s gasping and panting raggedly. “Why did you cheat on me?”,you breathe softly as your wide eyes watch the way the blood pours and spurts out of Pete.

His cock is still pulsing inside of you and he pulls hard at the restraints, you shake your head and you put the bloody knife into your other hand. When your eyes look down at the gushing wound staining the bedding and his tanned skin, you slip your middle and ring finger up before dipping into the flesh and muscle that feels unlike anything your sense of touch has ever felt.

“O-Oh my f-fuckin’ Christ!”,Pete sobs, chest heaving as you scissor his horizontal wound vertically. Your wide eyes stare down into his wound. “I–didn’t – what the-the fuck are you–” He chokes out a sob when you push your fingers in harder, your wide eyes spotting the yellowish white amongst the mess of blood and flesh.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!”,you shout in his face, raising the blade. Pete shuts up and he looks at you, his face full of horror and something else as your fingers rest in his wound. The heavy scent of copper interlaces with the scent of sex, his cock pulses in you again – you swear you can feel his rapid beat through his length nestled snug inside of you. “That fucking whore at your job told me you fucked her…”,you speak calmer, panting,”Why did you do it?”

Panting raggedly, Pete looks along your features. He swallows thickly and shakes his head. “Baby, I promise I ain’t never–”

Another scream tears through his throat when you bring down the knife into his hip.

Watching Pete, you can’t help the way your cunt throbs and tightens around his cock. You’ve watched so many films with him like this…the stabbing, blood, fat exposed in fake cuts and fake wounds but…as your fingers pull from his pancreas wound and you look down as he chokes up and struggles to grasp his sanity – this is all just so different. The metallic scent, the warm feel of his blood and the rush of it all, adrenaline buzzes through your hot veins and you leave the knife lodged to the handle in his hip as your bloody hands slide up his torso. Your anger, bitterness, it seems to be forgotten as you begin to ride his cock again.

Moaning as he gasps in pain and writhes in pure, teary agony beneath you, your head dips back. Bloody hands slip your slip off and you run your hands along your tits and down your stomach. The red smears and it continues to pour from his open, fingered wound and from his hip. You can hear him begging, begging for you to believe him but it’s almost white noise to your pure pleasure and arousal when your hand fists around the handle and you pull it out of his hip earning another choked sob.

“I like this better.”,you gasp as you ride him with experienced hips with half-lidded eyes gazing down at him. He’s a mess as more blood gushes from those two wounds. “This is so much better than being hurt…hurting you is so – o-oh fuck I think I’m–g-g’nna cum soon, baby…” You look down at him, your head tilts and you swallow thickly while you hold the blade. "K-Keep begging f-for your life, please?" The feeling of need burning in you grows.

“P-Please I - I never…”

It grows. Your cunt pulses.

“I swear on my ma I didn’t…”

Your stomach tightens.

“Please don’t–”

Then it’s a hot wave when you bring the blade down into his sternum with both hands around the blade. Grinding down on his cock deep inside of you, you squeal in ecstasy as you lift the blade and bring it down until his noises become only guttural, choked gasps and the wet squelch of the knife going in and out of his chest. By the time your orgasm subsides, you lay down on him with the knife tossed to the floor, his cum warm inside of you and his body so hot with blood yet unmoving beneath you.

“It’s okay…”,you murmur as you rub against his chest with your face, blood smearing and rubbing along your face,”You were so good…”

[cruel-hiraeth]

I'm asking. begging actually. GIVE ME BETA BREAKER TOJI AND BETA READER

i’ve got you nonnie (& @pastelle-rabbit & @zeninsama). a continuation of beta breaker toji 🫶

toji comes in for coffee at the same time every morning. he orders the same thing—black coffee, hot—and always pays with crisp bills and clinking change. and as sure as he is to walk through the door at 10 am, you’re sure to be at the register wearing a too-bright smile.

for weeks, you exchange nothing but tense pleasantries.

he doesn’t consider himself adept at much, but reading body language is one of his specialties. he can feel your hackles raise the moment you see him, taste the disdain radiating from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes; the clench of your jaw, the tick of your brows, the tightness of your voice—you’re nowhere near as subtle as you think you are.

eventually, he bites.

“your usual, mr. fushiguro?” you ask before he can speak.

toji splays his hands hands on the counter and leans forward, hovering above you; it’s the closest you have ever been. he’s wearing a warm, musky cologne that floods your senses. for a split second, your veneer slips—a bolt of frustration flickering through your irises, lips falling a millimeter—before you gather yourself.

he cocks his head and smirks. “you don’t have to play fake nice with me, kid. you won’t hurt my feelings.”

“i don’t know what you’re referring to, sir,” you lie. “would you like your usual? or will you try something else?”

“you’re a shit liar.” he chuckles, gesturing to your arms—you didn’t even realize you had them crossed. he leans in even closer. “i know your tells.”

you sigh. as much as you aren’t interested in backing down, you want the bastard to leave. “what exactly are you getting at? are you going to order anything? or are you just here to waste my time?”

for the first time, you see toji smile.

his scarred lips split, gleaming teeth on display as he grins. his canines are large like every alpha’s: razor-sharp, intended to burrow beneath flesh and draw dark claret while marking his mate. the sight is as beautiful as it is intimidating; you swallow.

“i’ll have my usual,” he states before dropping some cash and turning around to find a seat.

the conversation leaves you unsettled for the rest of your shift. what’s he after? you aren’t scared of him, but you’re wary. beta breaker—you can’t stop thinking about your coworker’s warning. it sounds far-fetched, but you have half a mind to believe her.

toji, on the other hand, got exactly what he wanted from your interaction. by getting close to you and making you uncomfortable—an action that would have any omega putting off a foul scent—he was able to confirm his suspicions.

he’s all too aware that his cute barista is a beta.

[seulszn]

Careless Whisper

Royalty Mel x reader

Warning: smut. dom!Reader, sub!Mel, angst.

A/N: this is the first time I have ever written my Y/N’s as a top since I’ve been a fanfic writer and I’ve been writing since 2018

You knew from the moment your eyes met hers that a future together was impossible. She was a princess, graceful, gilded, and untouchable and you, a simple village girl with dirt under your nails and dreams too wild for the fields you tilled. The reality of your worlds collided painfully in your heart. If her mother ever discovered that you had stolen the heart of Mel, that you had dared to capture the affections of someone so exalted, she’d have you executed without a second thought.

Every whispered secret and stolen glance became a rebellion against a fate that was never meant for you, a fate where love was a luxury reserved for royalty, and your passion was a dangerous, forbidden spark.

Lying on the soft embrace of her silk-covered bed, your body still humming from the passion you had just shared, you turned onto your side, eyes drifting to the figure standing by the open balcony. Mel, bathed in the glow of the moonlight, stood with effortless grace, her golden skin illuminated by the soft silver hue of the night. The thin silk of her robe clung to her form, delicate yet regal, as she gazed down at the village below the village she would one day rule.

There was a quiet intensity in her expression, a knowing look that spoke of duty, of expectations, of a world that demanded everything from her. And yet, here she was, tangled in sheets that smelled of you, her heart divided between the kingdom she belonged to and the love she was never meant to have.

Gathering the silk sheets around your bare body, you rise from the bed, the cool air kissing your skin as you step toward her. Mel doesn’t turn to face you, her gaze still fixed on the village below, but you can see the tension in her shoulders, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her.

Just as you wrap your arms around her, pressing your cheek against her warm, golden skin, she finally speaks her voice quiet, almost resigned.

“I am to be married off soon.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and inevitable, sinking into your chest like a dagger. Your grip on her tightens, as if holding her a little closer could somehow keep the world from pulling her away.

Your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t loosen your hold. Instead, you press yourself against her back, as if your touch alone could defy fate.

Mel remains still, her body rigid beneath your touch. She doesn’t pull away, but the silence between you is thick, charged with something neither of you can bear to name. The air is heavy with unspoken words, the weight of inevitability pressing down on your chest like a stone. You had always known this moment would come long before tonight, long before the first stolen kiss or the whispered confessions in the dark. She was never meant to be yours, not in the way you so desperately wanted.

Your throat tightens, but you force the question out anyway, your voice barely more than a breath.

“Who?”

Mel exhales slowly, her fingers tightening around the balcony’s edge as if grounding herself. “A noble from across the sea,” she says at last, her voice controlled, careful. “A match arranged since my birth.”

You hear the steadiness in her tone, the way she says it as if she has long since accepted it but underneath, there is something else. Something hollow, something forced. A mask she has worn for so long, even she has begun to believe it.

Your hands tremble against her waist, the warmth of her skin burning beneath your fingertips. You swallow hard, your heart hammering as you ask the one question you already fear the answer to.

“Do you love him?”

Mel finally turns to you then, and in the dim glow of the moonlight, you see it, the hesitation, the sorrow, the longing buried beneath layers of duty. She doesn’t answer right away, and that, more than anything, makes your chest ache.

Mel’s golden eyes meet yours, and for a moment, she says nothing. The silence stretches between you, filled with the weight of everything she cannot say. Then, slowly, she exhales a breath that carries more sorrow than words ever could.

“I don’t even know him,” she finally admits.

The answer should be a relief, but it isn’t. It twists inside you, sharp and unforgiving, because it means nothing will stop this. Not love, not longing, not the quiet, desperate nights you spent tangled in each other, whispering promises you both knew you couldn’t keep.

Your fingers tighten at her waist, as if holding onto her might keep her from slipping through your grasp. “Then don’t do it,” you plead, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t love him. You don’t even know him. Run away with me.”

Mel’s expression softens, something breaking in her gaze. For a fleeting second, you think she might say yes. That she might throw away the crown, the duty, the fate that has been forced upon her since birth…all for you.

But then she steps back. Just enough for the chill to seep between you. Just enough to make it hurt.

Her hand comes up, fingers trailing over your cheek with aching tenderness. “You know I can’t,” she murmurs.

You shake your head, gripping her wrist, holding her hand against your face. “You can. We can leave tonight, disappear before anyone realizes-”

“And go where?” Her voice is gentle, but there’s an edge to it, a sadness so deep it cuts through you. “No matter where we run, they will find me. They will find you. And they will kill you for daring to love me.”

You open your mouth, but the words catch in your throat. There’s nothing you can say, because deep down, you know she’s right.

A Queen doesn’t get to choose who she loves. A princess has her duty to her people, to her legacy, to the crown that weighs heavy on her head. And a village girl who dares to steal the heart of a Princess? She doesn’t get to live to see another day.

Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but you force them back. You refuse to let them fall, not when this moment means everything, and yet, so little. Instead, you press your forehead to hers, your hands trembling as you reach up to cup her face, desperate to etch every moment into your memory.

The warmth of her skin is a soft, burning contrast against your own, like the heat of the sun trapped between two bodies. Her breath trembles, brushing against your lips in uneven gasps, and it sends a shiver down your spine, the proximity intensifying every nerve in your body. You can feel the tremor in her touch, the delicate way her hands cradle your face, her fingers gently tracing the outline of your jaw, as though she’s afraid that if she lets go, even for a second, everything will slip away.

Your heart aches in the silence between you, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of you. With a shaky breath, you press your forehead against hers, fighting the overwhelming urge to break down.

“Then let me have tonight,” you whisper, your voice cracking in a way that betrays every emotion you’re holding back. “Just this one last night.”

The words feel like a confession, a desperate plea for something you both know can never last, but something you need more than anything. A fragile moment, suspended in time. Your lips tremble as you speak, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let the vulnerability show.

Her breath catches sharply, and you feel it—her hesitation, the internal battle she’s waging. Her hands slide down from your face, trailing along your arms, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. When they reach your wrists, she grips you tightly, as though holding on to something she fears will slip through her fingers if she’s not careful.

Then, without another word, she kisses you.

It’s not gentle, not soft like before. This kiss is urgent, raw with the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid. Her lips are hot against yours, a mixture of desperation and passion that makes your heart race in a way that feels almost dangerous. Her hands, once tender, are now gripping you like she’s drowning and you’re her only lifeline. You press closer to her, the frantic need in her touch mirroring the burning desire inside of you.

The kiss deepens, and for a brief moment, everything else fades. There’s no palace, no duty, no kingdom just the two of you, wrapped up in a single, stolen moment. And it’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough. But it’s all you have, and right now, it’s everything.

Her lips leave yours, only to find the curve of your neck, trailing kisses down your skin with a softness that almost feels like a promise. You don’t speak. There’s no need for words anymore. Only the press of her body against yours, the shared breaths, the bittersweet silence that fills the space between you both.

You guide her gently, but with urgency, moving her back towards her chambers. Every step feels like it pulls you deeper into the gravity of this moment this forbidden, intoxicating connection. You close the distance between you, your hands slipping around her waist, pulling her closer until you’re both nearly breathless.

Without breaking the kiss, you push her back onto the bed, the cool sheets feeling like a stark contrast to the warmth of your bodies. She lands softly, and you follow her down, never once allowing your lips to part. You hover above her, cradling her with one arm, the other resting beside her head as you lean in just a fraction closer. The kiss is a hungry thing now, a fierce blending of longing and desperation that neither of you can suppress.

When you finally break the kiss, the air between you feels heavy, charged with the tension of everything you both want but can’t have. You stare down at her, your breath ragged, your body aching with the need to bridge the distance between what’s possible and what’s forbidden.

Her eyes are dark, hungry, filled with an intensity that matches your own. She’s lying beneath you like she’s already claimed by you, yet somehow, you know she’s just as lost in this moment as you are. The way she looks at you makes it impossible to think straight. There’s no space for anything but her.

"You drive me crazy," you whisper, your voice low, rough with the unspoken feelings you’ve been holding back for far too long. The words slip out of you like a confession, as though you’re admitting to something you’ve been too scared to face.

She’s silent for a moment, her eyes searching yours, but there’s no judgment, no hesitation, just a raw hunger in the way she watches you, a challenge in her gaze. The space between you feels like it’s crackling with electricity, the pull of desire and the knowledge that this is a line neither of you can cross without consequences.

Her hand slides up your arm, her fingers brushing over your skin, igniting a trail of heat that makes it harder to focus. She pulls you back down, her lips finding yours again, deepening the kiss, as though trying to push away the reality that’s always looming just outside the door.

You slip her silk robe off, and the moment the cool air kisses her bare skin, a soft moan escapes her lips. “Shhh, I got you,” you murmur against her ear, your voice low and reassuring. “Just let me take care of you, yeah?” You trail your lips along her jaw before teasing her earlobe between your teeth. Her hands find their way to your back as you press hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, each one drawing a sharper breath from her. You move lower, tasting her skin, until you reach her thigh. Looking up, you find her breathless, anticipation darkening her gaze.

“Y/N, please… do something,” she pleads, looking down at you, desperation written all over her face. You drag your tongue along the inside of her thigh, deliberately avoiding the one place you know she craves your touch.

“You have to ask for it, Mel,” you tease, your breath hot against her dripping core. The moment you exhale, she arches her back, a frustrated whimper escaping her lips as her fingers tangle in your curls, trying to guide you where she needs you most.

A smirk tugs at your lips as you hold your ground. “I won’t give you what you want unless you use your words,” you murmur. “Come on, tell me.”

She moans, her breath hitching as she struggles to find the words, her body writhing beneath you. You smirk against her skin, your teeth grazing her inner thigh before you suck at the sensitive flesh, leaving behind a mark. Your fingers trail teasingly between her slick folds, dipping in just enough to make her squirm but not enough to satisfy.

“Come on, pretty girl,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “Tell me what you want.”

She whimpers, her thighs trembling around you, before finally gasping out, “Fuck- I want you to fuck me, please!”

That’s all you needed. You grin at her desperate plea, your lips hovering just above her dripping heat. Holding her gaze, you lean in and give her one slow, deliberate lick, savoring the way she shudders beneath you.

Her reaction is utterly intoxicating, her eyes flutter shut, rolling back into her head as her lips part in a silent, breathless moan. Her fingers tighten in your curls, pushing you deeper against her, as if she physically can’t stand the space between you. Her back arches off the bed, her body trembling under the force of the pleasure you’re giving her. And you? You’re far from done.

With a teasing smirk, you press your thumb to her clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles, back and forth, back and forth. The effect is immediate. Her thighs quiver on either side of you, her hips jerking up into your touch, desperate for more. “Y/N fuck, don’t stop,” she cries out, her voice breaking with need.

You have no plans to. Not now, not when she’s unraveling beneath you like this. You want her to remember this to feel this even when she’s lying next to him, when she’s playing house with the man she’s supposed to marry. You want to etch yourself into her body, into her soul, to make sure she never forgets the way you love her.

Your tongue works her relentlessly, licking, teasing, fucking her open as your fingers curl inside her, pressing against that perfect spot that makes her gasp. The air is thick with the messy, obscene sounds of her soaked cunt, the slick, wet noises mingling with her ragged, fucked-out moans. Your nose brushes against her coarse curls, your face buried in her heat, completely lost in her.

It’s a scene of pure chaos, raw, unfiltered, desperate. If someone walked in right now, they’d see her wrecked and undone beneath you, see the way she’s falling apart in your hands. But you don’t care. The only thing that matters is her pleasure, her body, her sounds.

“Fuck, I’m close please, let me cum,” she moans, her voice breaking as her body writhes beneath you. Her pleas only fuel you, but instead of granting her wish immediately, you pause, considering it, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. Should you let her?

Deciding to make her wait just a little longer, you pull away from her dripping cunt with a loud, wet pop, her arousal glistening on your lips. She whimpers at the loss, her eyes fluttering open, glassy with need. Before she can protest, you capture her lips in a deep, heated kiss, letting her taste herself on your tongue.

The moment her mouth meets yours, she moans into you, and that sound of desperate, broken moan makes your grip tighten on her. You take full control of the kiss, claiming her, while your fingers continue to work her overstimulated cunt.

You curl them against that perfect, spongy spot inside her, the one that makes her whole body tense. “Y/N, please- please, let me cum,” she whimpers, her voice breathless, pleading, wrecked. You pull back just enough to take in her face flushed, sweaty, utterly fucked-out and the sight alone makes you throb with satisfaction.

“I got you,” you whisper against her skin before pressing your lips to her neck, sucking and biting down hard enough to leave dark, possessive marks. Marks you know she won’t be able to hide. Marks she’ll have to explain.

“Come for me,” you command, your tongue trailing down her trembling body. “Let go, you got it.”

That’s all she needs. Her body tenses for a split second before she completely unravels. A sharp cry escapes her lips as her orgasm crashes through her, making her shake beneath you, her thighs trembling, her walls clenching around your fingers. Warm, white fluid spills from her, soaking your hand, the sheets, everything.

You grin at the mess she’s made, swiping your fingers through the slick arousal dripping from her cunt. “Look at this,” you murmur, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at the mess you made.”

Bringing your coated fingers to her lips, you press them against her mouth. “Taste yourself.”

Without hesitation, she parts her lips, taking them in, sucking her release from your fingers with hooded eyes, moaning softly as she does. The sight alone makes you want to ruin her all over again.

Your smirk deepens as you watch her suck your fingers clean, her tongue swirling around them with practiced ease. Her eyes, half-lidded and clouded with exhaustion, still hold a flicker of hunger. She looks utterly wrecked, her body glistening with sweat, her legs trembling, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But you’re not done with her yet.

Your smirk deepens as you watch her suck your fingers clean, her tongue swirling around them with practiced ease. Her eyes, half-lidded and clouded with exhaustion, still hold a flicker of hunger. She looks utterly wrecked, her body glistening with sweat, her legs trembling, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But you’re not done with her yet.

Slowly, you slide your fingers from her mouth, letting them drag over her swollen lips. “Good girl,” you murmur, tracing a thumb over her bottom lip before gripping her jaw, tilting her head up so she has no choice but to look at you.

She shivers at your words, a whimper escaping as you press a trail of slow, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, over the marks you’ve already left. Your hands roam her body, mapping every curve, every dip, as if you need to memorize her all over again. One hand slides between her thighs, teasing the oversensitive flesh, and she gasps, her hips jerking instinctively.

“Y/N-” she starts, but her words die on her tongue as you suck her nipple into your mouth, biting just enough to make her arch into you.

“You can take it,” you murmur against her skin before kissing your way down her body again. When you reach her soaked cunt, you glance up at her, taking in the way her breath catches, the way she stares down at you with need.

She’s already so spent, so sensitive but you want to push her further. You want to ruin her completely.

You press your lips to her clit, flicking your tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves, and she immediately thrashes, gripping the sheets. “Too much-” she gasps, but you don’t stop. You want to see just how far you can take her, just how many times you can make her come undone.

“Come on, Mel,” you whisper against her, your breath hot and teasing. “I know you’ve got another one in you.”

And with the way she’s already trembling beneath you, you know you’re right.

Her body jerks violently as you circle her overstimulated clit with your tongue, her breath hitching into sharp little gasps. She’s so sensitive it’s almost too much but she doesn’t stop you. She doesn’t tell you to pull away. Instead, her hands fly back to your hair, pulling at the curls, trying to both push you away and keep you right where you are.

“Y/N- fuck, I c-can’t-” she stammers, but you just hum against her, sending vibrations through her already pulsing core. Her thighs tremble around your head, threatening to squeeze you in, but you don’t care. You’re lost in her, in the way she falls apart at your touch.

“You can,” you murmur between slow, teasing licks, locking eyes with her. “And you will.”

She lets out a broken moan as your fingers slide back inside her, curling right against that sweet spot, the one that makes her whole body seize. You keep your pace slow, methodical, watching her unravel beneath you, every twitch, every shudder fueling your desire to push her even further.

Her chest heaves, her brown skin glistening with sweat, her lips swollen and parted as she tries to catch her breath. She looks absolutely wrecked, and yet, you can feel the way her body tightens around your fingers, her orgasm already creeping up again, building fast.

“Y/N- fuck, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby,” you whisper against her, pressing one last kiss to her clit before sucking it into your mouth, flicking your tongue with just the right amount of pressure. “Give it to me.”

Her body tenses for a split second, her eyes rolling back as her hands clutch at the sheets, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. And then, she breaks.

She squirts hard, her release soaking your hand, your mouth, the sheets beneath her, her entire body shaking with the force of it. You keep going, licking her through it, until she’s whimpering, pushing weakly at your head, her body unable to handle any more.

You finally pull away, your lips glistening, your fingers coated in her arousal. You glance up at her, taking in her fucked-out expression her flushed cheeks, her unfocused eyes, her heaving chest.

“Look at you,” you murmur, bringing your soaked fingers to her lips once more. “Such a mess.”

She barely has the energy to respond, but she still parts her lips, taking your fingers into her mouth, sucking them clean without breaking eye contact. The sight alone makes your stomach tighten, makes you crave her all over again.

You crawl back up her body, pressing your lips against hers, letting her taste herself on your tongue. She moans into the kiss, weak but eager, her hands grasping at you, desperate to keep you close.

“Hey, Mel, I need to clean you up. Don’t fall asleep yet,” you whisper to the brown-skinned girl whose eyes are already beginning to flutter shut.

You smile at her, the girl of your dreams, the one you want to spend forever with. You want to worship her the way she deserves, to make her forget if only for a few stolen hours that the crown is waiting.

She hums softly in response, her grip on you loosening as exhaustion pulls at her. You press a kiss to her temple before slipping away, reaching for a damp cloth to clean her up. She barely stirs as you run it over her skin, her body pliant beneath your touch, trusting yours.

When you’re done, you pull the sheets over both of you, tucking her against your chest. Her breathing evens out, warm and steady, but you stay awake, tracing idle patterns on her back, committing every curve and scar to memory.

Because when the sun rises, she won’t be yours anymore.

She’ll belong to the kingdom, to duty, to the weight of expectations neither of you can escape. And you’ll be left with nothing but the ghost of her touch and the taste of her name on your lips.

And when the first light of morning breaks, painting the room in soft gold, you feel her stir beside you. Her fingers brush your arm, slow and hesitant, like she wants to wake you but dreads what comes next.

You open your eyes to find her watching you, her gaze soft but unreadable in the dim morning light. For a moment, neither of you speak, the silence stretching between you like something fragile, something sacred. Then, a slow, bittersweet smile tugs at her lips before she leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek, then another scattering them across your skin as if she’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

Her black locs fall in wild, tangled waves over her shoulders, spilling across her chest, a stark contrast to the careful updos she wears during the day. Like this, she is only Mel not a princess, not a symbol, just the woman you love.

You smile, reaching up to tuck a loose strand behind her ear, your fingers brushing against her warm skin. For a second, you can almost pretend the night isn’t over, that there’s still time.

But then she pulls away, her lips barely leaving yours before she whispers,

“It’s time.”

The words are quiet, almost hesitant, but they land between you like a death sentence.

Neither of you move.

Because *it’s time* means the world outside this room is waiting. It means she has to leave. And it means you have to let her go.

Time for her to return to her world, to silk gowns and royal obligations. Time for you to fade back into the life you led before her, as if she hadn’t touched every part of you, as if she hadn’t ruined you for anyone else.

But neither of you move.

Her fingers ghost along your arm, tracing absent patterns on your skin. It’s almost gentle almost loving. A cruel mockery of what could have been if the world were different. If she were just a girl, and you were just a girl, and there was no crown, no kingdom, no duty pulling her away from you.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, but the plea is there, woven into every syllable. It’s a confession, a desperate wish, a prayer to a god who has never listened.

Mel closes her eyes, inhaling deeply as if trying to steady herself. For a moment, you watch her slip into a world where things are different. Where she chooses love over obligation, where she stays wrapped in your arms instead of walking away. You can see it in the way her brows relax, in the way her lips part like she’s tasting the dream on her tongue.

But when she opens her eyes again, the fantasy is gone, replaced with a quiet, aching sorrow.

“I have to,” she murmurs, and you can hear the break in her voice, the weight of the choice she never really had.

Your throat tightens. You do know. Of course, you do.

This moment was never meant to last.

Still, when she sits up, when she reaches for the silk robe draped over the chair beside the bed, you can’t help yourself. You sit up too, catching her wrist before she can slip away completely.

“Mel.”

She turns to you, her golden eyes dark with something unreadable. “Don’t make this harder.”

You don’t know if she means for you or for herself.

Her fingers untangle from yours, and this time, you let her go. You watch as she ties the robe around herself, as she smooths her hands over the fabric with that practiced grace she always carries, as if she’s piecing herself back together.

When she finally turns back to you, she is Princess Mel Medarda again. Not the woman who whispered your name like a prayer in the dark. Not the woman who kissed you like she was drowning and you were the only thing keeping her afloat.

Just the daughter of a queen, walking away from the one thing she cannot have.

And you? You are just a village girl who dared to love her.

Mel stands in the soft glow of the lanterns, her back to you, her posture rigid, as if the moment she turns around, she might break. You clutch the sheets tighter around yourself, the warmth of her touch still lingering on your skin, but already fading, like a dream slipping through your fingers at dawn.

"You could run," you whisper, though you know the words are foolish. "You could leave all of it behind."

She exhales, slow and measured, but doesn't turn to face you. "And then what?"

You hesitate. Because you know. You both do. Running would change nothing. The world would hunt her down, drag her back to the palace, to the throne, to her duty. And you? You would be a name whispered in scandal, a foolish village girl who thought she could keep a princess.

"I'd find a way to take care of you," you say anyway, your voice fierce, desperate. "We'd be free."

Finally, she turns. And for the first time since this conversation began, you see it the raw, aching sorrow in her eyes. The war between want and responsibility.

"You think freedom is waiting for us beyond these walls?" she asks softly, stepping closer, closing the space between you. "You think we could run far enough that the weight of my name wouldn't follow? That my mother wouldn't send her hounds after you?"

You swallow hard.

Mel reaches out, fingers tracing the line of your jaw, down your throat, before resting against your collarbone. A ghost of a touch, as if memorizing you, as if she already knows this will be the last time.

"If I were anyone else," she murmurs, "if I were just a girl, and you were just a girl… maybe."

The thought breaks something inside of you.

She leans in, pressing her lips to yours, and it’s not like the kisses before. It’s not hungry or desperate, not fire and urgency. It’s slow, lingering something final. A kiss that speaks of everything left unsaid.

When she pulls away, she doesn’t go far. Her forehead rests against yours, her breath warm against your lips, her fingers still curled loosely around your wrist as if she’s unwilling to let go just yet.

“But I am a princess,” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath. “And you… you were never meant to be mine.”

The words slice through you, sharp and final, even as her hands linger. But then, as if realizing she’s already stayed too long, she steps back. And this time, you don’t stop her.

You watch as she moves toward the door, slow and hesitant, like she’s carrying the weight of something too heavy to bear. When she reaches it, she pauses. For a second, you think she might turn around, might take it all back. But she doesn’t. She keeps her back to you, her shoulders squared as if bracing for the pain of what comes next.

“Don’t come to the palace anymore,” she says, her voice quiet, careful, like she’s trying not to break.

She exhales shakily, gripping the door handle, and then after a long, excruciating pause she delivers the final blow.

“I want you gone before I get out of the shower.”

And just like that, it’s over.

The door closes behind her with a soft click, but it may as well have been a slam for how violently it echoes in your chest.

Silence settles over the room, thick and suffocating. But she is everywhere. In the sheets, in the air, on your skin—the scent of her, the warmth of her, the ghost of her touch still clinging to you like a cruel joke.

And yet, all you are left with is the cold, undeniable truth:

Love was never enough to make her stay.

My pookie @grosspube reading over this:

[mommyslittlebird]

Fairytale

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

Request: i had a thought of where wanda / step mom wanda comforts reader after a bad day and a lot angst and fluff too

CW: Stepmom/Stepdaughter, themes of depression, spoilers for the Disney movie Tangled (??)

Word Count: 2k (whoops this was supposed to be a drabble. Whatever.)

A/N: Thank you for the request! This takes place when R was 18 before she left for school, so a prequel to the main story of Her Special Girl.

A/N: Fuck my original A/N here that said this one isn't good. This one is cute and I like it.

It was pouring when you finally got home from work. You walked into the house in your uniform, soaked from the rain.

You saw Wanda in the kitchen, fixing dinner. She’s a wonderful cook, but in your current state the food made your stomach turn. You felt nauseous. You hadn’t eaten all day at work, but you still couldn’t imagine eating anything.

Your dad was at the table reading a newspaper. He didn’t acknowledge you’d come home.

“Hey, little love!” Wanda chimed excitedly, but her face falls when her eyes meet yours. You looked terrible, eyes sunken in, dark with exhaustion. You couldn’t even bring yourself to give her a smile. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You didn’t respond, trying to escape to the privacy of your bedroom before the emotions of the day spilled out of you. You dashed up the stairs.

Your dad set down his newspaper with a frustrated thud. He moved to get up and reprimand you for ignoring your stepmother, but Wanda stopped him.

“Vis, you just make sure my pasta doesn’t burn. I’ll take care of it.”

————

She found you in your room, curled up in the center of the bed. You were still wearing your wet and dirty work clothes, but you’d thrown on one of Wanda’s hoodie. It practically swallowed you with how big it was. The sight melted Wanda’s heart.

“Sweetheart?” She called into the room. You turned over in bed, hiding your face in the hoodie. She came to sit next to on the bed, rubbing gentle circles on the back you’d turned on her. She could feel then that you were crying. You were silent, but she could feel the erratic way you were breathing as your chest heaved. “What’s wrong, baby? It’s okay. Mama’s here. Mama’s got you honey. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know,” you cried weakly. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s just… everyday is like this. I just wake up with this feeling of despair, and then I go to work and everything is so loud and there’s too many smells and I have to pretend to be happy while I make everyone’s coffee, but I’m just so so tired. I feel like my mind and body are screaming and crying for someone to help me, but this is just my life and no one is coming to save me.”

Wanda pulled you into her lap, not caring that you were still soaking wet. She shushed your cries and rocked you back and forth, letting you ramble and sob into her arms. She tucked your wet hair under her chin, pulling you to her chest so you could feel the gentle beating of her heart. “Shhshsh, let it all out honey. You’re home now. Mama’s got you.”

“All I can do is escape to this white knight fairytale where things are different, and I have friends again, and I don’t have to go on like this. But I’m just being repeatedly ripped out of that fairytale and pulled back into this awful reality I have no choice but to live in. I’m a high school drop out, all my friends left me, I hate my job but I’m just going to hate any job that takes up so much of my time. I can pretend all I want that things are or will be different but this is real life and I’m miserable! I’m miserable and I’m going to be like this until I die!” You sobbed, breathlessly heaving into Wanda’s chest.

Wanda felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. She wished she could be your white knight, take you somewhere far away where you didn’t have to worry about all of the awful things happening in your life. She couldn’t imagine what your situation must feel like right now, hopelessly trying to claw your way out of a well you’re stuck at the bottom of. There were things she was working with you on. You were going to get your GED at the end of the year, but it was still going to be another year before you could even start applying to colleges. The road was going to be long, but she was confident you’d pull through.

That wasn’t what you needed right now, though. You didn’t need to hear her say that just maybe, in a whole two years, you might be able to get your life back on track. You needed something now. You needed something to get you through the night.

“How about this,” she proposed, holding your teary face in her hands. “You take a nice warm shower and get all nice and clean while I go downstairs and finish dinner for your dad and the boys. And then I’ll come back up here with some mac and cheese and some chicken nuggets and we have a special girls’ night?”

You sniffled hesitantly, unsure if you could handle it all: the shower, the food, the company. But in the end, you nodded. Your only other option was to sit in here, alone, withering away in your cold work uniform.

“That’s my sweet girl,” she cooed, pinching you lightly on the cheek. “I’ll pick out some pjs for you and get your water running. One step at a time, angel. I know it’s hard, but you can do this.” She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, and walked off to start your shower.

It felt insurmountable, but you got up, washed yourself off in the shower, and dried off before putting on the pajamas Wanda set out for you. On top, there was a fresh one of her sweatshirts for you to wear. You threw it on, inhaling her sweet scent with your arms up to your nose. You made your way back into your bedroom.

Within five minutes of you getting back, Wanda came knocking on your door with some mac and cheese and microwave chicken nuggets. Your stomach turned at the sight of the food. Even your safest meal felt nauseating.

“I know you don’t wanna eat, love, but you’ve gotta try and eat at least a little bit for me, okay? We’ll start with two nuggets and half of the mac and cheese,” she says.

You nodded, reluctantly taking the plate and working on your mac and cheese.

“Now, I think it’s time for a movie and some cuddles, don’t you think?” Wanda asked, already setting up the pillows and blankets on the bed. “What would you like to watch?”

You shrugged, unable to think of anything helpful while fighting your stomach for cooperation. “You pick.”

Wanda gave you a soft smile of understanding. She understood the inability to make a decision, and she was more than happy to make one in your stead. She ended up putting Tangled on the small tv in your room.

She sat against your headboard, legs spread and tapped the space in between, welcoming you to sit. When you did, she threw your favorite blanket over your shoulders and set your favorite stuffed animal, Thomas, in your lap. You rested your chin on his head.

“Do you want me to braid your hair like Rapunzel’s?” She asked once you’d gotten to the hair brushing scene.

You buried your face into Thomas. “I-I didn’t wash it in the shower,” you admitted shamefully. It needed to be washed after being in the rain, but you were out of energy.

“That’s okay,” she assured without judgement, starting a French braid on your dirty, wet hair. “We’ll put some dry shampoo in it in the morning.” She braided your hair with you curled up between her legs, tying it off with a little pink ribbon.

“If I were Rapunzel, I’d let you climb up my hair,” you said when she finished, leaning back against her chest.

She wrapped her arms around your waist, giggling at your silly antidote and kissing the back of your head. “You would?”

You nodded against her shoulder. “Yeah. Not dad though.”

Wanda smiled and giggled again. “You just want your tower to be me and you? No one else?”

You shook your head. “Just me and mama, in our tower together.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Just you and mama in a tower, huh? I can definitely get behind that. What would we do in our tower all day?”

You shrugged. “You could braid my hair, and we could sings songs, read books together, paint the walls, snuggle in our bed. We could do whatever we wanted really.”

She smiled, noting that you had said ‘our bed’, implying your dream castle only had one bed for the two of you to share. “So they would be no one to stop me from doing this?” She turned your head with her hand and placed a gentle kiss to your lips.

You looked at her for just a moment before chasing her lips again. And again. And again.

She giggled. “Okay, honey. That’s enough.” She certainly didn’t mind the kisses, but she knew you’d spend the whole movie kissing her if she let you. And she still had plans.

You curled back up in her lap. Right. You were letting yourself get lost in fairytale again. You weren’t in a tower in the forest with no one else. You were in real life, with your father and step-brothers in the rooms surrounding you. Wanda wasn’t your handsome rogue, she was your stepmother. This wasn’t a quirky pairing between a theft and a princess. This was a disgustingly taboo relationship that would ostracize you from everyone in your life if they found out.

Wanda wrapped her arms back around you, pulling you close. “Hey, princess,” she said, kissing your temple. She sensed your discomfort and could immediately tell what you were thinking. She wanted to stay with you in this fairytale for just a little longer. It couldn’t be forever, of course, but you could play pretend, for now. “We don’t have to leave our tower just yet. We have until morning, just the two of us.”

“M-morning?” You asked. Wanda always had to leave early in the night. She had to go back her room so your dad wouldn’t get suspicious.

She stroked your hair, slicking back the frizzy hairs that escaped your braid. “I told your dad that you’re not feeling well and I was gonna stay in here tonight.” She pointed to the packed air mattress on the floor. She had no plans of sleeping on it, of course, but she needed to make the lie believable.

You looked at her with wide teary eyes, unable to believe she’d do such kind thing for you, even when the risk of it was so high. She just returned the look with a soft smile and redirected your attention to the movie.

The movie was nearing the end, specifically when they finally get to see the lanterns and light on of their own. Wanda leaned forward and kissed your neck, using her hand to direct your head up to the ceiling. She turned on the fairy lights that lined the ceiling. They’d been there since you were a teenager, but you never turned them on. Most days you forgot they were there. She turned them to a setting with a gentle twinkle.

You were so overcome with love, you flipped yourself around in her lap so you were straddling her legs and wrapping your arms loosely around her neck. You felt like your entire body was buzzing with electricity when she pulled you down by the back of your neck into a kiss. A real kiss this time, not just the pecks she was giving you earlier. You whimpered against her lips.

“Shh, angel,” she whispered against you, advising you to quiet down before she had to stop. You slipped your hands under the hem of her shirt, tugging on it in a silent request. “Sweetheart, we can’t…” she said sadly but firmly. There was no way she could fuck you while everyone else was still home, no matter how badly she wanted to.

“I know,” you assured. “I don’t want to. Just let me feel you. Please.”

She looked in your pleading eyes, now twinkling in the fairy lights. She sighed. She couldn’t deny you anything. She slipped the shirt off over her head, leaving her bare under you.

You smiled, lying down on top of her and rubbing your face against her soft exposed skin. She smiled down at you, affectionately wrapping her arms around you to rub your back.

“I love you, mama,” you said, nuzzling your face into her chest with the first genuine smile you’ve had all day.

“I love you too, baby,” she said, squeezing you into her and kissing the top of your head. She couldn’t fix everything for you, but, when you needed it most, she could give you your fairytale.

[melonglossz]

cw. fem!reader wlw, mommy kink (duh), fingering, toy use, nipple play, mdni.

thinking about accidentally calling kiyoko mommy in bed.

your head spins from the slim finger pumping in and out massaging your gummy walls. the vibrations against your swollen clit don’t help you think straight either. maybe that’s why it slips out because you can’t think properly. the only thing on your mind is kiyoko and how she’s making you feel.

“fuck mommy…” you feel your body freeze and your face heat up. you can’t believe you said that. your eyes stay glued to the ceiling refusing to look at her face. you don’t want to see whatever look she has in her eyes. the fingers inside you falter a little telling all you need to know, she definitely heard you, how couldn’t she?

you want to say something, an apology, or that you didn’t mean to say that but before you can her fingers resume their pace, much faster this time. the vibration on your clit grows stronger and you let out a choked gasp.

“oh god, kiyo.”

she clicks her tongue at you. “that’s not my name now it is sweetheart.”

“n-no mommy,” you pant out, shaking your head.

“good girl. you’re such a good girl for mommy.” you let out a loud whine, fingers gripping the sheets underneath you.

kiyoko watches from her kneeled position on the bed as your greedy pussy swallows her fingers. curling her digits deep inside you as she circles the vibrator around your clit she feels your wall contract around her. she hisses out a low curse and shifts her thighs slightly, where your hips are perched, to relieve a bit of her own arousal.

“mommy…”

“hm?”

“please, i-i need more.”

“more,” she chuckles, “what a nasty girl, asking for more when i'm already giving this messy pussy so much.” kiyoko fiddles with the toy before she presses it harder against your sensitive nub on the highest setting.

your back arches off the bed and a loud wail rips through your body. your hips try to jerk away but kiyoko follows them. “stop running away sweetheart you asked for it.” she continues to drive her fingers into you aiming for that one spot again and again causing you to let out another wail.

looking away from your glistening folds, kiyoko sees the way your chest heaves, your perky nipples on full display, and the tears running down your hot cheeks. you look like an absolute mess and she loves it.

adjusting so your hips lay against the plush bed, kiyoko leans forward so she’s closer to your chest. before you can ask what she’s doing her mouth latches on to your tit.

a choked gasp leaves your lips as you feel her tongue swirl around your nipple, her teeth coming to nip at your hardened bud. the cold lenses of her glasses press against your skin and with the mix of her hot mouth, it causes goosebumps to form.

kiyoko smirks at the way your body squirms underneath her and the little whimpers that fall from her mouth. her eyes meet your teary ones as she pulls away from your tit to move on to the other. she doesn’t wrap her mouth around your nipple instead her teeth bite down and roughly tug up. your whimpers turn into a loud whine and your chest follows her mouth to alleviate the sharp pain. eyes squeezing shut your fingers grip the bed sheets even harder till your knuckles go white.

her fingers keep their mind-numbing pace inside you as she pulls your nipple taut. your stomach clenches and unclenches as you grow closer and closer to the edge, your legs tightening around her. “shit mommy, ‘m close, ‘m so f-fucking close.”

“cum for me baby, cum for mommy, make a mess all over my fingers.” she lets go of your sensitive bud and flicks her tongue to help soothe the pain.

and you do, your mouth falls open in a silent moan, and your muscles tense up as a wave of pleasure comes crashing down. there’s no part of your body that doesn’t feel it. the grip you have on her fingers is strong, milking her for something she wishes she could give you.

you can barely hear kiyoko’s soft voice over the white noise in your ears as she slowly pulls out of you. your body slowly relaxes as you do your best to catch your breath. cracking open an eye as the loud buzzing of the vibrator cuts off you see kiyoko pop her fingers into her mouth to taste you. “you’re so hot.”

she laughs at your words as she pulls out her fingers. scooting up the bed towards you she places her dry hand on the back of your neck pulling you in for a kiss. you push yourself up onto your hands to meet her. you can taste yourself on her tongue causing you to moan. kiyoko kisses you for a little while longer before she pulls away with a smile. she gives you a couple more quick pecks then swipes away a few stray tears.

you stare at her for a few seconds longer before you flop back down on the bed and let out a loud groan into the pillow when you roll over, embarrassment flooding through you.

“sweetheart, c’mon, it’s not that bad,” she reassured you, trying to pull you away from the pillow you kept trying to dig yourself into.

“no kiyoko it’s embarrassing okay? just let me die here.” you keep your eyes shut as she rolls you over to face her. her fingers brush across your cheek and move to play with the ends of your hair.

“you’re so dramatic. it’s okay, really. if i didn’t like it i would have stopped and told you.” you open your eyes to peer up at her and you're met with her fond smile, pretty rosy cheeks, and soft eyes that are framed beautifully by her glasses.

“okay fine but it’s still embarrassing.”

she leans down and gives your cheek a peck, “yes, yes i know. now come on, let's go take a bath together.”

[milo-is-rambling]

I ate myself nauseous

[alygator77]

just a little drabble for my current wip. arranged marriage with clanhead gojo.

warnings: mdni, smut, breeding kink, lots of breeding, praise, creampie, bit of angst.

arranged clanhead! satoru who still isn’t used to sharing his space, even after months of marriage. the grand Gojo estate, once his sanctuary, feels smaller with you in it—your scent lingering on the furniture, your soft hums echoing in the halls—not unpleasant, but… unfamiliar.

arranged clanhead! satoru who notices how your shampoo smells so sweet, clinging to his pillow. how your hair clogs his drain and it drives him fucking insane, yet he still finds himself instinctively reaching for your favorite brand of conditioner while he’s out, tucking it into his basket without a second thought. he doesn’t know why—it’s not like he cares… right?

arranged clanhead! satoru who steps into the kitchen late one evening to find you leaning against the counter. your hair falls in loose strands around your face, messy but still maddeningly pretty, and you sip tea from a mug—his favorite mug. you’re draped in one of his shirts, the hem barely brushing mid-thigh—your bare legs illuminated by the dim glow of the overhead light.

for a fleeting second, he freezes. you look… almost at home. he doesn’t want you to look at home. or does he? he shakes the thought away.

“couldn’t sleep?” he drawls, his eyes lingering on the curve of your legs. “or… were you waiting up for me? ‘cause I could really blow off some steam.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who emerges from the bathroom later that night, his snowy hair damp and tousled, a towel slung lazily over his broad shoulders. he’s wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants, the defined lines of his abdomen on full display as he rubs the towel through his hair, his gaze sliding over to you lying on the bed.

“ready for tonight?” he asks, tilting his head with that signature nonchalance, as though he isn’t about to fuck the hell out of you, as though his sole intention isn’t to fill you so full of his cum that there’s no question the Gojo Clan will get their heir.

arranged clanhead! satoru who pushes you into a mating press the moment he’s on top of you, his large hands gripping your thighs as he folds your legs back against your chest, pinning you beneath him. his cock slides against your slick folds before splitting you apart, and his breath shudders as your cunt swallows him greedily.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, panting through thrusts. “always so good f’me. always takin’ me so fucking well.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who hates himself for the shameful thrill that bubbles up within him, the sick satisfaction of watching you come undone beneath him. the way your pussy clenches around his dick, the way your gasps and moans echo in his ears, drives him to thrust harder, deeper, as though his very existence depends on filling you—which it does.

arranged clanhead! satoru who’s pace is merciless, hips slamming into you with an almost feral hunger. he tells himself it’s just biology, but deep down he knows better.

“good fucking girl…” he smirks, pushing your legs higher as you squirm beneath him—your nails digging into his arms, but the sting only spurs him on. “don’t worry sweetheart—haaa—this time, for sure, m'gonna breed that pretty pussy. gonna make you drip with my cum ‘til you can’t hold it all…”

arranged clanhead! satoru who watches your eyes roll back as his cock slams into you, the bed shaking beneath you as his focus narrows on the way your breasts bounce with every forceful thrust.

“you’re mine,” he groans, the words slipping out before he can stop them, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you—hot, thick ropes of cum painting your walls. his body trembles against yours as he buries himself to the hilt.

“fuuuck, take it…” he rasps, his forehead dropping to press against yours. “so fucking good f’me.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who doesn’t move for a long moment, his chest pressed to yours, his weight pinning you to the mattress. your breath mingles, warm and uneven, and for a fleeting second, he almost forgets why he’s here. why you’re here. but then reality creeps in, sharp and cold, and he pulls out slowly, watching as the mix of his cum and your slick drips onto the sheets.

arranged clanhead! satoru who remembers his duty as clanhead, as the leader of the Gojo Clan. like a good husband—like a good leader—he doesn’t waste a single drop. he shifts, his fingers dipping between your legs to scoop up the cum leaking from you.

“can’t let this go to waste, sweetheart,” he mutters as he pushes the thick mess back into you. his thumb presses against your clit, and he smirks when it earns a soft gasp from you—his fingers sliding deeper. he watches, transfixed, as his cum disappears inside you again, his cock giving a weak twitch at the sight.

arranged clanhead! satoru who rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling as his chest heaves with the effort of catching his breath. he doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t hold you, and you don’t reach for him. the silence afterward is louder than any moan you could make. he tries to ignore the ache in his chest, something he refuses to name.

arranged clanhead! satoru who lies awake long after you’ve drifted off, his arm slung over his eyes as he tries to ignore the ache in his chest. he won’t admit it—not to you, not to himself—but he’s starting to crave more than your body. he craves the softness in your voice when you call his name, the quiet way you laugh when you think he’s not listening.

but this is just obligation. just duty. just… fucking. right?

full fic in the works 🫶🏻 lmk if you wanna be tagged.

[screampied]

"Just the tip" trope w/ jjk men?👁️👁️

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ JUST THE TIP, GIRL ! ’﹒⺡

ᡣ𐭩 feat. sukuna, choso, nanami, geto, gojo

ᡣ𐭩 total wc. 3.2k

ᡣ𐭩 warnings. fem! reader, mdni, overstim, unprotected, true form sukuna, praise, dirty talk, quickies, dry humping, whiney men, choking, implied breeding, hitting it raw.

࣪. ᨳ GOJO SATORU. ࣪

“princess, you’re killing me,” gojo whimpers, feeling you casually move your hips against him. he’s staring at you, glossed lips just trembling. with two rough hands attached to your waist, he faintly strokes a thumb beneath the fabric that stuck beside your skin. “the tip. please.”

“wait a little,” you hum, making his back hit against the softly padded pillow. gojo grunts, the smooth part of your panties glissading back and forth on his length. his boxers was lazily pulled down, and he was all exposed…all warm. you felt a tiny veiny poke through, skimming against your entrance and you giggle before leaning up close to his ear. “oh sorry, did you say something? i can’t understand when you mumble, baby.”

gojo lightly throws his head back, grabbing a chunk of your ass before his right thigh bounces in utter anticipation. “f-fuck, don’t whisper in my ear like that,” and his voice was so shaky—he starts to pant frantically, just imagining being inside of you again. “you fuckin’ heard me.”

“remember who’s on top of you,” you tease, pressing a kiss near the corner of his mouth. for a split second, you heard gojo gulp, bright blue irises meeting your gaze. now that made him hard. shivers run all over his body the moment he feels you wrap a hand over his shaft, staring to realign yourself. “but fine, lie back…princess.”

soft puffs of breath escape past his mouth as he stares at you, a near smirk stretching against his pink lips. “bratty girl. quit talkin’ ‘n just ride me, how about that.”

“for all i care, you can just get yourself off,” you snicker. after you speak, gojo immediately shuts up the moment his leaky tip just barely hovers beneath your slick entrance.

with a clenched jaw, he presses his lips shut, a soft whine running past his lips to moment you start to jerk. “lot of mouth for how needy you are to be inside, ‘toru.”

“s-shut up,” he grumbles, and it’s cute. the attitude in his voice. the slight rasp to it, even the adorable flush that crept onto both sides of his temples.

gojo craved more, his mouth started to heavily salivate just imagining being inside of you. pumping you full of thick inches for the umpteenth time. “god, i just— i need you. know i said the tip but i just want you.”

you pepper a kiss near the corner of his mouth, and his first reaction was to kiss back ; he misses, making him cause himself to dreadfully whine.

lips forming a sweet desperate ‘o’ he leans back before gripping your hip tightly. you whisper, slowly sinking down into his length. “you can never make up your mind,” you purr, and the silk that ran against your voice.

“say one thing then you want another,” you continue, and he leans into your touch. he grows hard inside you, warmth swallowing you entirely.

gojo’s ears perked at the sound of your voice, the softness air that danced against his earlobe from your breathe.

he couldn’t help but pant, awaiting to have you sunk all the way down to the base. “you keep whinin' everytime i don’t give your lips any attention,” and for a brief moment, gojo’s eyes meet yours again, he feels so hot. you talking to him in such a sweet way like that only makes him feel ten times hotter. “you want a kiss?”

“i … i wanna kiss ‘n pump you full at the same time,” he says in a single breath. the hold you had on him was so heady.

gojo can’t stop himself from feeling all over your body, he felt giddy. in the best way possible. the way your cunt gradually went down on him. you made sure to take your time just to tease him a bit more. gojo’s pout doesn’t take long to make an appearance on him. “just…touch me… just want a taste of my girl while s-she’s on top.”

but the moment you were all the way down…

you felt his dick stretch you out for how many times again, you suppress a moan. leaning in, you squeeze gojo’s lips together playfully—bringing him into a sloppy kiss. his favorite kind of kisses.

the kind where your tongue would slide against his in such a messy way, he’d suck on yours before moaning right into your mouth. a single make out session with gojo was enough to make you pulse through your pulled to the side panties.

“i’m n-not gonna last with you grinding against me like that,” he whimpers, nearly having the wind being snatched out of him the moment you start up a rhythmic grind. “ride me jus’ like that,” he’d pant, and as you tantalizingly ghost a hand up his abs, you intentional make him shudder within your hold.

gojo pauses, grabbing your wrist. with a swift lick of his lips, he uses another hand to spank your ass, another to make your hand wrap around his neck. “choke me. choke me while y-you ride me, baby. please?”

. ᨳ NANAMI KENTO.

“i don’t want you to overwork yourself, sweetheart,” nanami says in a hushed tone. in the midst of you having your hands kneading through flour, you’re bent over the counter.

“have i,” he started, pausing to kiss near your nape. he was so close you felt his bulge prop up against you, “told you,” he halts again, a hand snaking around your waist, “how pretty you look in sundresses?”

“no,” you nearly slip off a moan, trying to avert your gaze back towards the bowl that had your hands covered in dough. his touch felt so good, he was gentle with you. nanami sneaks a kiss near the corner of your neck before you gasp. he pants your legs just a bit before kissing down your back. chastely. “the food, baby.”

nanami huffs, softly ghosting a thumb beside the exposed skin near your back. “you’re an amazing cook sweetheart, but ‘m hungry for something else,” and his words were so warm, smooth and all. the moment he murmurs tender in a soft voice against your ear. it was enough to make you immediately throb. “i want a little of your attention, just…a little.”

“okay,” you mutter, gnawing on the skin of your lip once he hurriedly moves your panties towards the side. a dripping soaked mess, nanami couldn’t help but stare for a bit. he was already insanely hard. his touch, it was so sensually smooth. with a single hand on your hip, you let off a sweetened mewl once you suddenly feel the throbbing tip of nanami’s dick glide against your folds. “k-kento, fuck.”

“missed bein' inside my wife,” he rasps, and he’s so pushed up against you it makes him dizzy. nanami eases his was inside, stretching you gingerly before you left off a sweet whimper. “you always know how to bend over for me like a good girl,” he purrs, bringing another amount of kisses towards the back part of your neck.

his breathing becomes unsteady and irregular, the thin fabric of your sundress, he has a firm grip on it. “was…was gonna give you the tip but i just wanna pump you full, sweetheart,” and you bite your lip, feeling the tips of his fingers brush against your ass. “give you.. a baby or two.”

nanami had you leaning forward, your hands were still in the bowl of ingredients before he hesitates. his voice cracks, pitching high for a concise moment. for the first time, you were hearing a needy nanami. “will you let me stuff you full? tell me in that pretty voice of yours.”

his words, it struck right into your heart and in the process—right between your legs. you felt sticky, a bit moist just from nanami grinding up against you. whenever it came to you, he just couldn’t contain himself.

“y-yes, please kento,” you’d whimper out, feeling two big hands of his caress your ass. he groans, so thick and big…yet so tender with the way he relaxed himself inside. such gummy walls hugging him so tight and close, it makes his jaw tense in a thirsty manner. “just fuck me, baby. i want you so bad.”

“wanted you more,” he whispers. a stroke of his, lightly shoving his hips into you—you gasp, nearly dropping the dishes. “s-sorry, honey. might wanna hold on. ‘s gonna get a bit messy,” and as he says that, a soft chortles flies past his lips. nanami teasingly runs the cold band of his watch down your back, watching you cutely squirm. “but i’ll clean you right up, i love when my sweetheart’s a little nasty.”

ᨳ SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

ironically enough, you’d be the one asking sukuna. he’d have the snuggest grin on his lips, buff arms crossed towards his chest whilst you straddled him.

“speak, girl,” and you suddenly grow shy, being propped up on the king's lap. his voice was a deep pitched low, fully stirring you up from the inside. sukuna cups your chin, making it hard for you to avoid his gaze before he murmurs. “tell me what you most desire, little concubine.”

“i want…” you start to speak before trailing off. his gaze, it was never not intimidating. for a split second, you could just about make out a mere small smirk lingering against his lips. sukuna brings a hand toward your waist, softly stroking your skin before you intake a sharp breath. “i want to feel you f-from the inside, ‘kuna. just the tip, please?”

“awwww,” he purrs, and he’s sat manspread. his grip he had on your hip, the way his fingers tenderly strokes beneath the thin straps of your panties. needless to say, it had you soaked.

“just can’t get enough, huh? was last night not enough to satisfy you?” and he takes pride in the pout that goes against your lips. “go ahead then. show me how needy you can be.”

his words had such smugness to it, you whimpered with such exasperation. eagerly springing his length out, not wanting to waste anymore time. sukuna stares at you, a low grunt slithers past his lips before you’re just hovering over his fat tip.

it was glistening with pre-cum, you let off a soft coo, making his tip swipe and smear all over your glistening folds. “s-sukuna, i want you. i want more.”

“greedy girl,” he snickers, and you suddenly felt small. being sat on his lap, his frame was so big. a lot bigger and broader than you. sukuna’s base was hefty, it jolted against his leg the moment you pushed yourself forward. he leans in as if he was about to kiss you. instead, he cups your grin again, multiple eyes staring right into the depths of your soul before whispering out a husky, “no one’s stopping you, princess.”

you moaned, his words was enough to get you dripping like a faucet between your legs—how embarrassing…

within moments, you sink down a bit further, and he’s huge. you feel his dick reach everywhere, such thickness it has your mouth salivating. “f-fuck, ‘kuna,” and his ears perk at the sound of your voice. the bitter sweetness to it. you were always so whiney, growing quiet every few seconds to hear the squelches your pussy made in retaliation. huffing and puffing, your eye-lids grew heavy, he was insanely packed. you felt him everywhere, and once you finally sat down against his base, you pull him into a hug. “so.. so big, stretching me.”

“…oh, don’t tell me that’s all,” sukuna grumbled cheekily, feeling your frame. he creates a fake pout, unreservedly mimicking the pout you had on your own face earlier. “you said just the tip but you can barely handle a few inches, concubine.”

he chuckles darkly, watching your cute face fall. you try to pivot your hips but not even seconds later. you end up making a mess on his lap, bundles of nerves sending you shockwaves. sukuna smiles, bringing a kiss towards the corner of your mouth. “hm. looks like someone needs more training,” and with a sly eyebrow raise, he brings you towards his chest, petting your hair. “if you can barely handle the tip, what makes you think you can handle both of my cocks, princess?”

ᨳ SUGURU GETŌ.

geto would be occupying himself with something, you’re doing nothing but of course—straddling his lap. not a single thought in your mind.

he doesn’t mind it, he enjoys feeling your body all propped up against his. he takes the opportunity to gently snake an arm around your waist, holding you close. although, at this particular point you’d be basically cockwarming him.

“just the tip, you say, suguru,” you utter with a mere hint of sass on your tone. he smiles to himself, your back facing his chest. he’s so warmish, his body heat nearly radiates off of you. skin to skin, it forever felt so intimate. despite the two of you doing nothing but just staying still. “you just wanna fuck me.”

“princess, i wanna hold you and fuck you. ‘s a difference,” and his voice was a bit hoarse—it was unintentionally attractive. he’s sneaking a plethora of kisses down your neck, giving your collarbone a soft suck before he reaches down between your legs. “spread these for me, don’t be shy.”

such thickness to him, it made you swallow, recollecting your thoughts…speaking of thoughts, as mentioned earlier…

your brain was empty. all you could focus on was how stretched you were getting. you were soaking his shaft down to its full supreme—and the last thing you expect is for geto to start rubbing mean circles against your clit. your body’s initial reaction was to lean back against him, and he chuckles, cooing out a, “ooooh.”

“s-suguruuu, fuck,” you’d sniffle, feeling the rotation of his palm creating a circulation motion. he was always so good with his hands. while being stuffed full, he had a free hand maneuvering all sorts of shapes over your folds. “feel so full, jus’ fuck me already.”

“say pretty please ‘n i’ll consider it, baby.”

“you heard what i sai—”

“girl, don’t try me.”

you moan, feeling him spank your cunt at your abrupt sudden brattiness. as your head slumps back against geto, he caresses your entrance before grabbing ahold of your hips. “let’s try this again, yeah?”

through clenched teeth and a cute pout, you huff out a, “…pretty please, suguru.”

he chuckles, and you shudder at the brief sensation of his throbbing mushroom tip just sensually dragging against your core. you gnaw on your lip, digging your nails into the thin fabric of his shorts.

he adores your body language, how adorable—your back arches, and you can barely hold still. all due to his touch, his words, and even the warmth of his breath colliding against your skin.

“good girl. ‘s more like it,” he whispers, and you couldn’t hold in your moans the moment he starts to make you bounce on his cock. you’re a mess, head still leaning back against his cheek, geto faintly wraps a hand around your throat. “should hear how silly you sound for me. whiney girl, fuck…”

and that’s when a hand of his roams up your body, feeling near your chest. he gives your perky nipples a soft pinch and you whine, feeling yourself continue to grow hotter and hotter between your legs. “want attention here too, baby?”

pathetically, you nod, still taking inch after inch inside of your gummy walls. “course ya do,” he teases, sneaking a kiss near the inside of your neck again. “but before we do that,” and you feel your hips come to a terse stop. you pout, feeling two hands of geto’s rapidly stop your hips, and he pulls you closer so he could speak.

with a hand gently caressing near your throat, another prying your legs open for him once more…edging you, he says, “we gotta work on those manners. not gonna let a brat cum on me, sorry princess.”

ᨳ CHOSO KAMO.

“baby,” he says in a sweet, drowsy murmur. choso has you laid flat down. while trailing and skimming a few fingers down your spine—he makes your tummy meekly press right into the cushioned mattress.

“i wanna.. i wanna try something,” and as he’s speaking, you grow quiet, enjoying the hot touch of his fingers. “remember when you asked to see how fast i could last with jus’ the tip in you?”

“mhmm.” you oblige, teasingly hum as a response. you could hear the near shakiness coming from his voice. albeit, you couldn’t particularly see his gaze, but you’d bet money he was just staring right at your body…specifically, from the waist down.

choso kisses his teeth, and you hear a bit of shuffling, “okay. ‘cause, you’re all laid out for me ‘n i just wanna…” he precipitously pauses, feeling you playfully wriggle your ass against him and he groans. “don’t…don’t do that, do tease me.”

“then go ahead, ‘m waiting for you, choso.” you’d titter, awaiting for him to finally come inside—it doesn’t take long.

momentarily, just seconds later…his fat leaky tip was swiftly rubbing against your hole. he starts to pant, long strands of hair running down his back from each particular moment.

he was heavily impatient.

his mind roamed, just a single look at your slick entrance and he’s licking his lips. all he saw was his imagination of loads of his own seed pouring out of your folds.

“nice ‘n warm for me,” he huffs out, clouds of his own breath departing from his lips. choso’s ears, the very tips of them burned with an scorching hot. “always take me so well.”

“f-fuckkk, choso,” you’d gasp, feeling your cunt swallow him easily. he was slow, a single hand attached to your waist.

a soft whimper leaves from choso’s mouth, simply from the way your ass was all pressed up against him. with just a single bit of a hover, he leans forward and he delays his weight just briefly on top of you. “told you, could barely handle just the tip.”

“just lie back ‘n let me give this body the—the attention it deserves,” he grunts, and his stuttering was quite cute.

choso lost all of his composure the moment he was just a few slim inches inside your cunt. squeezing him down so tightly, he watches as his own length gradually disappear between your folds.

“soaking me so good, should be a crime to be this w-wet,” and he nearly finds himself drooling, letting off a cute gasp once he hears that loud squelch. you gripped around him so good, it gave him whiplash … his head spun.

his breathing became erratic, and whenever choso grows out to be excited or far too buoyant than he needed to be, he ends up finishing early. and that’s exactly what he did. a flush goes over his face, as well as with a pout.

“s-shit,” he whimpers, barely even lasting as long as he anticipated. but he couldn’t help it. not with how tightly you maintained a heavy grip on him with your sweetened cunt.

his dick, it had length for sure, and poked against every orifice throughout your sweet cunt.

“wet girl,” he purrs, and starts to ramble to himself, observing his own thick ropes slowly spew outside of you. choso grows curious, using a thumb to swipe some excess of his cum off of your entrance, smearing it against your folds with a weary horny grin before plugging it back in. “my baby’s s-so sloppy.. should pull you close to me ‘n make you taste it.”

[leyiorr]

you and satoru decide pretty quickly that you want your daughter’s ears pierced.

she’s a gorgeous baby; bright blue eyes and soft white hair just like her father. her nose and lips are your genetic touch, and satoru insists that it’s your features that make her look so adorable.

you’d asked your husband what he thought about getting her ears pierced so young, and obviously he thought it was a great idea - his two favourite girls should match earrings.

and so, once she’s old enough, the two of you bring her to a store to get her ears done.

satoru has her sat on his lap, entertaining her as you spoke with the piercer about the placing and colour of the earrings. he talks to her like he can understand her baby babble; no one understands his daughter better than he does.

eventually, the time comes, and the piercer lines up the piercing gun with your daughter’s ear after marking the spot with temporary ink. she’s giggling gleefully, trying to grab hold of the piercer’s hair.

satou’s anxiety is on high, he doesn’t want his daughter to flinch and cause an injury that no one wants. the peircer seems nice enough though, and her friendly smile coupled with your hand on his shoulder and his baby’s laughter settles his nerves marginally.

but he speaks too soon.

the minute the metal pierces her skin, your daughter instantly breaks into tears, twisting her small body toward her daddy as she lets out dramatic screeches of pain. satoru’s heart sinks immediately, large hands gently trying to soothe his daughter - her tiny ones fist his shirt like a lifeline.

she cries and cries like she’s dying, and satoru feels his soul bleed.

“daddy’s sorry, baby,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “it’ll go away soon. i wish i could help you, sweets.”

but she’s having none of it, crying harder when he tries to put her back into position. he feels his own eyes sting; his heart aches from being unable to take away his precious daughter’s pain.

his eyes snap up to your face, hoping you’ll have some insight on how to help her. you’re smiling fondly, softly pinching her cheeks in effort to distract her from the pain.

“don’t be dramatic,” you scold sweetly, dropping into a crouch to press sloppy kisses to her chubby cheeks.

she hiccups, letting her father’s shirt go in favour of trying to grab your nose instead. her cries turn into wet giggles within a few seconds and satoru feels relief fill his veins.

you look up at him with a raised eyebrow, “i mean you, mister.”

it takes him a full second to realize that there are tears rolling down his face, and he quickly wipes his eyes in embarrassment. he hears the piercer giggle; may the ground open up and swallow him whole.

“you’re such a baby,” you say, but your heart felt so full - your husband just cried at his daughter getting her ears pierced? you were never going to let him live that down.

satoru doesn’t say anything, obediently allowing you to tilt his head back to meet you in a kiss. through the salty taste of his tears and your fingers holding his throat he doesn’t even notice when the piercer approaches again, quietly lining up with the other dot.

she looks to you for consent, and you give a subtle nod as you continue to distract your husband with kisses. he breaks it in surprise when he feels your daughter flinch, though this time there’s no wails.

he looks down. her face is scrunched up in effort not to cry, cheeks puffed up as she looks up at her father proudly as if to say: look, daddy, i didn’t cry that time!

he feels his eyes fill up again. his head drops to rest on his daughter, kissing her all over her face and eliciting a series of giggles.

“that’s my girl,” he boasts proudly, grinning wide while bouncing her on his knee, “i knew you could do it!”

he hears you laugh from the counter, “you cried the most, satoru.”

he scoffs, picking the baby up and nuzzling his face against hers, “i don’t know how you didn’t! her cries broke my heart!”

[kurooh]

TOUCH, TOUCH, TOUCH ☆ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, ino takuma, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso when their girl finds their weak spot.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, erogenous zones, biting, hair pulling, sensitive men, lots of cumming even though it’s november, overstimulation, oral (f&m rec), kissing, nipple play. | 3k words of sluttery

GOJO SATORU # thighs

“ugh, fuck,” satoru laughs shakily, swallowing down a groan, “really, baby, ‘s like you were made to take my cock.”

“hm, really?” you pull off his cock with a pop, savoring the way his diamond blue eyes squeeze shut, crystalline tears poking at the corners.

satoru’s got his legs spread like a whore, with you between them, nails raking up and down his thighs while you lavish his cock with attention. he’s painfully hard, cock standing up straight and covered in a sheen of your spit.

to think that this all stemmed from a tickle fight, of all things—he’d thrashed around the bed, whining and giggling when you’d gone after his thighs. once you’d finally gotten between them to brush your fingers over the tender skin, his playful giggles had unintentionally shifted into breathy moans which he’d tried to cover up by coughing.

“you should’ve told me these were this sensitive,” you breathe, pinching at his inner thigh. satoru jerks in his seat on the edge of the bed, blushing harder when he looks at the mirror across from the bed.

“riiight. and that would’ve opened the door to me waking up to you chewing on them in the mornings? nuh uh.”

“you’re so annoying, satoru,” you roll your eyes, the happy smile dropping from your lips. for good measure, you grip his cock more loosely, and he silently panics. “maybe you should suck yourself off then.”

“no no no,” satoru backtracks, spreading his thighs and slyly bucking his hips toward you. his cock bobs, fully flushed and desperate to be taken care of properly. “baby, i was joking! let’s rewind to the part where i was saying you were made to take my cock, heh.”

slowly, so as to make it as painful as possible, you take his cock into your mouth inch by inch until you’re swallowing around it. satoru moans loudly, cupping the back of your head to ease the rest of his length down your throat. he was right—he fits inside as easily as two puzzle pieces connect.

his voice shakes and he looks down at you gratefully, thighs tensing as your nails scrape a little harder. “c-can’t believe you’re all mine, baby. goddamn, you’re always so fuckin’ good to me.”

you let out a muffled moan around his thick cock, the vibrations resonating through the entirety of his lower body. spit races down to his balls from the base of his cock, making his skin sticky. this is always his favorite way to cum—somewhere inside you after you’ve made a mess together.

you bob your head on his cock, which only seems to thicken and twitch against your tongue, the first signs of his inescapable high. satoru chews on his lower lip, his breath coming in wheezy puffs while his hips rock into your mouth.

“ngh, t-take it all,” he directs you, his voice strained as the first spurts of cum spill into your throat. “be a good girl f’me and swallow, baby.”

the muscles in his thighs jump beneath your palms as his cock finally finishes emptying all the cum into your mouth—satoru’s breath audibly hitches in his throat as you swallow a few times around him. before his hazy brain can fully register, you’re no longer on his cock, instead kissing up the tender skin of his thighs.

“toru, what do you think’ll happen if i bite you?”

“it’ll hurt,” satoru pouts in reply, the expression on his face only encouraging you to do so. “ow!” he exclaims, but he doesn’t make any move to close his legs or push you away.

“what if i mark up your thighs?”

he quirks a brow, as if to dare you to. “do what you want, babe . . but it’s my turn next.”

GETO SUGURU # scalp

“so weak, baby. is that really the best you can do?” suguru teases, sticking his tongue out at you. “i mean, come on . . there’s no way.”

your fingers twist tightly in his hair and you yank, the dark tresses soft against your skin, smelling of the best shampoo and conditioner. suguru lets out a hiss, savoring the sting of his scalp with a smile that has a pleased smirk playing on his lips.

“how’s that, suguru?”

“if you keep doing that, i might just give you what you want,” he replies breezily, balmy breath fanning over your sticky cunt. “heh, you’re not even pulling hard enough, that’s—”

you interrupt suguru with a vengeful yank of his hair that pulls a groan from the depths of his chest. you raise an eyebrow, looking at him and then between your legs expectantly.

without any more protest, suguru finally presses a kiss to your swollen clit. the little smack of his lips and the preface to what’s coming soon elicits a desperate whine from your bitten lips. “sugu, jus’ spank it, please.”

a hushed chuckle follows the sharp slap to your cunt and your resulting cries of bliss. “someone’s needy today, hm?”

“yeah,” you whimper, nails scratching lightly against his scalp while your fingers tremble in his hair. the bed creaks beneath you as suguru adjusts his position between your legs, tongue lapping up your slick with a primal urgency. his nails dig crescents into your thighs as he spreads you further inch by inch—even with all your squirming, you’re unable to close your thighs.

you’re tugging at his hair insistently, impatiently, and he pins you with an unserious glare. “if you wanna be like that, you can just use my tongue, sweet thing.”

you groan, biting down on your lower lip as suguru slips his tongue inside you. it’s silky soft, hot, and the biggest tease, faintly curling as the tip of it drags against the walls of your cunt. here he is, offering himself up so you can use him; there’s no way you could possibly turn this down.

without any semblance of hesitation, you experimentally jerk your hips forward, and his nose bumps into your clit. he lets out a muffled groan, losing himself in your pussy—your slick covers his skin and makes it shine. it mixes with his spit and drips from his chin, soaking the sheets.

suguru’s scalp stings with overstimulation, shockwaves resonating through his body and shooting straight to his fully hard cock. he can’t help but hump himself against the bed in an attempt to alleviate the wild need for friction.

all too quickly, suguru gets pussydrunk, eyes rolling back while your hips roll forward sloppily. it doesn’t take long for that familiar quake to settle in your thighs, cunt squeezing and fluttering around his tongue.

“s-sugu,” you whine, and he’s sure he’s in heaven, “‘m gonna—gonna cum!”

“lemme taste it, sweetheart,” is the most you can make out from his muffled words. his fingers squeeze your thighs as they twitch beneath his palms, threatening to lock around his head. your orgasm rips through you and your cunt spasms, hips bucking as you ride out the high on his tongue. a broken whine leaves your lips as your thighs overpower his hands and squeeze around him, the soft strands of his hair tickling your skin.

he carefully moves backwards, clicking his tongue and sighing as he scoots off the bed to take off his wet boxers.

“sugu—”

“i don’t want to hear it,” he waves his hand in the air and tosses the boxers into the laundry basket. “it’s your fault anyway, you were the one ripping my hair out.”

“you encouraged me—”

“me? encourage you to pull my hairline back? never, honey.”

INO TAKUMA # neck

“takuma . . i missed you so much,” the words are mumbled against his soft, plush lips. ino smiles against your mouth, a strong arm tugging you into his chest.

he’s got you seated on his lap, for the first time in weeks—he’d been away accompanying nanami on a lengthy mission. the bed softly creaks as he adjusts himself beneath you, inadvertently grinding you down on his hardening cock.

you pull back, face hot with excitement and surprise. “hehe, sorry. was an accident,” ino leans in, pouting at you when you ignore his kiss. instead, bracing yourself with both hands on his shoulders, you start to sloppily bounce up and down in his lap. although there’s no particular rhythm or smoothness behind it, it feels amazing. ino’s face has crumbled into an expression of unadulterated bliss, and he forces his glassy eyes to focus on you rather than let them close.

“ugh, baby,” he whines as your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders, the sting a garbled mix of pain and pleasure. “f-fuck, keep doin’ that.”

without slowing your frantic movements, you toss an arm around him, fingers haphazardly twisting into the feathery hairs at the nape of his neck. you give them a light tug, forcing his head back and eliciting a sudden moan from him.

ino gasps sharply when he feels your nose nudge at his jaw, tipping his head to the side in order to expose the slope of his neck and the tender skin there. although he moved without hesitation, he still wonders what you’re doing. “huh? babe, what’re you—”

“jus’ kissing your neck, takuma,” you coo, inhaling his scent deeply. he smells faintly of his favorite soap (he bought a bar that smells the same as your body wash) and clean laundry. ino seems to tremble beneath your touch, hips jolting upwards as your own begin to slow, your focus on his neck.

truthfully, ino is afraid.

he’s afraid of what he might do or say when you inevitably discover just how sensitive his neck is. and god, the way you’re still moving on his cock has his heart swelling in his chest as he starts to forget about his initial fear. it would be insulting to even consider thinking about anything besides you when you’re on his lap like this and spoiling him with your touch.

“hah—baby,” he adjusts his hands so that they sit tightly on your hips, bouncing you up and down so you won’t get so tired. the drag of your lips against his adam’s apple has him gasping out, eyes rolling back shamelessly. “i-if you’re not careful, i swear you’ll make me cum in my pants.”

this is supposed to be a warning, one that makes you pull off him and shimmy off all the layers of clothes together, but you simply ignore him. he knows you heard what he said, feeling that little smile of yours grow against his skin. ino’s breath hitches in his throat and he loses himself in the almost-euphoria that the friction of his cock against your cunt brings. he’s been starved of you for so long that he’s hyper aware of everything—the stickiness that seeps through your panties and shorts, the scent of your body, and the unstoppable heat that courses through his limbs.

you can feel his cock throbbing against your clit in the moments between each desperate movement, and you only moan into his neck, teeth sinking into the supple skin. your kisses are flirty and teasing, peppered up and down his neck with the occasional nip every now and then.

“a-a little faster, takuma,” you beg, voice tight. “god, you feel so fucking good.” a startled gasp leaves your lips when you feel his fingers slip into your panties, heading towards your clit.

something both hot and cold races down ino’s spine after a few more bites, the double stimulation becoming too much too quickly. the way your slick sticks to his fingers doesn’t help his inescapable high to slow down. fuck, this’ll be messy . .

“b-babe,” he groans into your ear, insides twisting as he slumps against you weakly. “‘m gonna cum, baby—you’re gonna make me..” ino’s voice drifts off into a loud whine as his cock shoots white in his boxers. his face burns and he looks up at you adoringly as you sweep the stray hairs away from his eyes.

“you came, takuma?”

“yeah,” he huffs, the wetness in his underwear making him shift beneath you. a sly smile plays on his lips. “would you . . mind cleaning me up?”

FUSHIGURO TOJI # nipples

toji swears up and down he doesn’t have a single spot on his body that’s hypersensitive, besides his cock. so one night when you’re gesturing for him to lie back, propped up by all the pillows and entirely shirtless, he fixes you with a defiant scowl.

“really? you’re gonna suck my nipples? do i look like a fuckin’ girl to you?”

“toji, it’s not at all like that,” you reply calmly, taking a seat directly on top of his flaccid cock. “jus’ wanna try something, if it’s okay with you.”

“fine, i guess. if this makes you stop whining about sucking my ti—nipples,” he grunts, the corners of his lips curving to the side in annoyance. toji’s thighs are loosely spread, his body entirely relaxed. you give him a chaste kiss with a playful sweep of your tongue against his lower lip before leaning toward his strong chest.

toji’s muscles gleam with the water from his shower, a few droplets racing down the slopes and curves of his pecs. although he’s trying his hardest to act uninterested and offended, a small part of him is strangely curious to see if you’ll prove him wrong. whenever you’re messing around together, you end up playing his body like an instrument—knowing all the places he wants to be touched, how he likes it, and so on.

he covers up the hitch of his breath with a cough into his palm, and your eyes flick up to his.

“what?” he asks accusingly. “fuckin’ throat’s dry.”

“nothing, toj,” you reply, eyes twinkling in a way that has his heart kicking against his ribcage. he expects you to say more, but you don’t.

his body’s cooled substantially since the shower, and the second your lips wrap around his nipple, hot tongue flicking over the hardened bud, toji’s letting out a choked groan. the dichotomy between the temperatures is the first thing that gets him going, but then the way you start to suck—you’re about to seriously humble him.

you look up at him, asking a silent question.

“‘s not bad,” toji huffs dismissively, “just not enough stimulation.”

you nod, fingers finding his other nipple and pinching it lightly. his leg twitches and his abs clench, but he plays it off with a small shrug. you know that toji has always been too prideful, writing things off without giving them a chance. heat sparks through his body, settling in his cock, and you feel him growing rock hard beneath you.

instead of saying something cocky to piss him off, you only let out a small giggle, teeth catching on his nipple. toji hisses, unconsciously cupping the back of your head to push you into his chest.

“doll, no need to be so gentle,” he drawls, gasping sharply when you bite down. it hurts a little, but toji’s something of a masochist—he spurs you on with a weak groan. pleased with your handiwork, you switch nipples, fingers growing sticky with your spit as you spread it around his pectoral.

pressed up against your cunt, his cock throbs, desperate for attention. just as you’re thinking about touching him to alleviate the pressure, toji beats you to it, large hand pushing you to sit on his abs. he grips his cock firmly and his body shudders, jade eyes squeezing shut as he sets up a lazy pace.

“h-holy fuck,” he bites out, head tipping back onto all the pillows as puffs of breath leave his flushed lips. “‘s good, just keep doin’ that . . yeah, right there, doll.”

KAMO CHOSO # ears

“baby, i—oh, fuck,” choso swallows, fingers lightly ghosting along the slope of your bouncing ass. “i can’t hold it anymore, ‘specially not with you riding me like this.”

“i know, i know,” you huff out, voice trembling. your chest presses against his and it’s a clamor of teeth and impatience as your lips meet, tongues pushing against one another. choso has always fought off his orgasm in favor of your own, too focused on you before himself. today, it’s no different, but this time you’re drawing it out to see just how long he can last.

his eyes are closed as he loses himself in the kiss, too focused to notice you pulling away; his lips drag against your cheek when you tuck your face into his neck. confused, he asks breathily, “h-huh? is everything okay?”

“of course, cho,” you say sweetly, pressing kisses against the flushed shell of his ear. almost immediately, choso tenses beneath you, arms wrapping around your midsection tightly. he gasps when you take it a step further, nipping at his earlobe in a way that’s not so gentle.

“what’re you doing? i wanted you to cum first—then i could too.”

“‘s okay, i want you to be selfish this time,” you giggle, “cum for me, ‘kay? can you do that, cho?”

“of course i can,” choso mumbles, “jus’ look at the way you’re fucking me . . hah, ‘m gonna cum.”

he leans into you, letting you tongue and bite at his ears. choso’s on the precipice of euphoria, walking the edge and ready to fall, but you keep teasing his ears in a way that drags it out of him. he cums deep, his cock spilling against your cervix and inspiring your own high. choso’s shuddering beneath you, teeth clicking together from the overwhelming strength of it all. he whispers a few incoherent things, fingers splaying over your back as you cum around him with a loud whine.

choso’s holding you closely, pressing a few kisses to your shoulder and hissing as your riding finally comes to a stop. you can feel the heat of his cum inside you, slipping because of gravity, pouring out of you and pooling at his base.

“pull my hair next time,” he says softly, sounding embarrassed. “and i want you to bite a bit harder.”

“‘m not trying to give you an ear piercing,” you laugh, kissing over the flushed skin your teeth sunk into. “but next time can be right now, if you want it, cho.”

your hips lift upwards, and he stifles a groan, watching his cum drip from your sloppy cunt. “yeah,” he bites his lip, looking at you with rosy cheeks, “i need a minute, so before we go again . . wanna taste her, if that’s alright?”