#it's like two inches across maybe

[claypigeonpottery]

sold

a little magnet

[asairayn]

so i went a little feral

read Panic by @thedemonsurfer / @thedemonscrawler and i fucking HAD to draw them you don't UNDERSTAND i'm losing it!!!!! it's literally been like. less than twelve hours. i couldn't get the image of eclipse bashing bloodmoon with a keyboard out of my head. i had to.

[tonycries]

PONY

Synopsis. Ride it, his pony!

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

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, ríding JJK men, creampíes, bondáge, GOJO’S POWERS, true form!Sukuna, dp, spítting, bréeding, pússydrúnk men, exhibitíonism (Toji and Geto), overstím, spánking, mentions of kids (Nanami), cócky Gojo, making Sukuna whíne, overspíll, heínous things, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hehehe have a lovely week with no leaks <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Do it, then.

Toji felt so dizzy right now, so full of nothing but sheer want and those raspy, stuttering grunts ripping from his chest. With a low keen, he’s sliding one of his rough hands down your bowed spine, mouth watering at that delicious curve all for him. “Arch jus’ a hah- bit more f’me, pretty doll. Lemme see.”

“I-I already am, Toji-” And despite all your huffing and puffing, he purposely takes his sweet, sloppy time tearing his darkened eyes away from how well you were milking him to meet your pouty glare. “Can’t hngh- anymore-”

Smack!

All five of his thick fingers leave a swift spank on your ass, “Now now, sayin’ ya can’t when you were sooo smug about ridin’ me, princess?” He’s rolling his eyes, and you simply get a quick, jagged buck of his hips. Toji’s holding back a high-pitched gasp, as if he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “Better listen or m’ah- never cumming before Sh-Shiu gets here. Unless…” His hot breath puffs against your ear, and his even hotter, fat tip glides just across your g-spot. “-you want him to see?”

This earns him the cutest, drawn-out mewl from your glossed lips, your head throwing back for him to latch on from behind. 

“Oh, ya jus’ got wetter-” he breathes, and from where you were riding him in reverse cowgirl, you could practically hear the awe in his words. Feel that sultry shiver wracking down his muscled body. Toji’s ravenous hands dip down from your hips, two pads of his fingers spreading your puffy pussy lips wide open for him. “So drenched. Ya really like that, h-huh?”

And oh how much you did - your greedy pussy was practically slobbering down his swollen length. Coating him in a glistening coat of all your sweet sweet juices until it gleamed in the dim-lighting. Bulging with all of his long inches, he was so fucking massive that every thorough ram of your hips downwards made this thick base just thwack against your cunt.

Fuck, this was Toji’s favorite position for a reason - he could count every dredge and bead of slick running down his thumping veins with each of your harsh gyrations. And he did. 

“M’m- doin’ what you asked.” you’re whining, batting away the big, fat tears in your lashes. “But you’re not- ngh- h-helping!”

Toji thinks he could laugh right now, he thinks he could tease your needy self until you begged him to fuck you properly. But maybe it was the fact that he had to leave for a job soon, or maybe it was the way you looked so pretty on top of him - he’s feeling just a bit merciful right now. Just a bit.

“Awww, you poor thing–” he’s drawling out with a husky drone. Smiling slyly at the irritated furrow in your brows, the way you mewl when his large hand wraps around your throat. “My needy baby needs help?”

You can only nod half-deliriously, and he places a drippingly wet peck on your lips. Tasting that sinful scar and the syrupy sweet taste of his tongue. Dragging hotly across your lower lip, “Need s-so badly to have me cum in this oh- cute cunt?”

“Y-yes.” you mumble, your gasps turning into heaves when his rock-hard cock only expands inside you. Pumping upwards to grow even girthier, it’s like he wasn’t even trying when the curved divot on his weepy head kisses your sensitive spots. When he’s drawing sodden glides across your gummy walls, stuffing you split open until you were just molded to his very shape. “Yes yes please- jus’ wanna- hngh-” Reaching to tug on his dark black tresses, making him hiss. “-jus’ wanna have you c-cum in me before you leave ah-”

Smack! 

But this time, Toji doesn’t soothe over the sting - he doesn’t whisper pretty praises in your ear. Only planting rude spank after spank on your jiggling ass, adding to the bruising way his sharp hip bones rutted against your tender flesh. 

“Well I didn’t say slow down, did I?” you feel him purr dangerously against your ear. All the warning you get before the hand around your neck just tightens, all big beefy muscles on his arm flexing. “Wha’s the problem- said you were g-gonna oh what was it-” And Toji’s craning his head easily to smirk at you, nipping at your lower lip. “-’ride me until I lose my mind?’”

It’s said in such a mockingly higher pitch than Toji’s usual baritone, making your velvety walls just squeeze. Jostling his fat cock inside you until your toes curled, legs weakening. 

Smack! “Faster.”

Your ever-faltering hips have absolutely no choice but to speed up and you moan at the slap! of skin-on-skin. Leaning backwards into his hunched-over figure, his tongue was so smooth. Licking and biting down gently all over your skin when you fucked your hips back just a bit too hard. Just a bit too cockdrunk. Babbling out a drooling ah! ah! ah! as you roll your cunt, trying to suck out something delicious from the ends of his leaky cock. 

“Do it, then. Do it f’me.” he shudders out, and for all the biting tone in Toji’s words he sounded so utterly ruined. Like he was holding back the hitch in his chest, the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Fighting for the life of him to not push you down onto all fours and pound you into these silken sheets right now. “Ride me until I lose my ahh– fuckin’ mind, doll.”

You can’t answer - can’t do anything else but ache for more more more. And his every ridge and bump down his reddened shaft swiveled around you sweetly. 

“Oh.” Soon enough, you hear him titter out a laugh of disbelief, heavy, cum-filled balls tightening. “N’ you better hah- hurry up-” Smack! The possessive hand curling around your throat just drags your bleary gaze to yours and Toji’s bedroom door. Slightly ajar. Moving. “-unless yer beggin’ for double the amount of work.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - DESTRESSER

“Shh shhh…” Nanami’s quieting down your tiny whimpers with a slow, sultry glide of his fat tip down your sopping wet slit. Back and forth. Voice so hoarse and strained when he whispers little praises in your ear, “You got this- hah- you got it, my love. Ride me.”

Shit, those words are hitting straight to your cunt, clenching and sinking down, down, down his swollen cock. Your husband was so big, reaching so deeply inside sweetened spots you didn’t even realize existed. 

“Does it f-feel good, Ken?” you’re mewling. Wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, careful to not tip over his chair, “S’it relaxing?”

This was always Nanami’s favorite little remedy - whenever you waltzed into his office room with that too-short skirt and that too-tight silken top that drove him wild. Rambling about how he was being too overworked lately - how you have a solution.

Dragging his soft palm down your spine, Nanami grits back his teeth when you’re moving your hips in slow, shallow little grinds and gyrations. His thick head swirling slowly around your g-spot, thick base spreading your swollen folds gapingly open. 

Ah, this was heaven.

And he says so - a little over a million times into the crook of your neck. Throat shot already, “So pretty- so perfect, my wife-” he’s sighing out. Wrenching away to fixate his eyes on your sweat-sheened figure, the beginnings of that fucked-out expression of yours already on your features. “Y’know…seeing you like this- always makes me wonder what a great mama you’ll be.”

It’s so sudden that your hips are faltering, stuttering down sloppily to thwack! against Nanami’s tight balls. They’re almost bruising against the curve of your ass, and you’re whining into his mouth.

“S’true.” One of Nanami’s hands drapes down to your hips roughly, all five fingers splayed-out and just emblazoning itself when he’s guiding you through each slippery squelch. The other - his right - cradles one of your tits. “I see these- oh-” You watch as he’s attaching his lips around one hardened nipple, so hot. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, ”N’ I wonder how- ngh- s-sweet you’d taste when I fuck a kid into ya, darling.”

“And here-” His tongue skims past with a final kiss on both your tantalizing tits, moving down to where Nanami knew his cock was indenting into the very bottom of your pretty pussy. Where he knew that little nudge- 

“Ah!” Your entire body just jolts when he presses one greedy hand down on exactly where he was hitting at your cervix with almost-scary accuracy, teasing out your cutest keens. “K-Ken not there-”

“Yes there.” he’s cutting you off. “Here is where m’gonna fill ya ahh- all up-”

Just the very thought has his stern cheekbones coloring with red, and you’re so hypnotized by the sight that your hips are accelerating mindlessly. Legs burning, hips aching - but you’re still leaning forward to grind repetitive circular turns, rocking him inside in a way that made sure every inch of your melty walls were being massaged. 

Were being fucked. 

“Mhm- f-fuck-” he’s groaning, head throwing back to nip your lips, until it was all just smeared with Nanami’s saliva. “Ya like that, dontcha? Wan’ me to ohh– give my pretty wife a kid?” Words slurring together with each babbling second, he’s gently taking a hand to your scalp. Massaging your roots while you ride him to fucking insanity, “Answer me, my love.”

“Yes!” you spread your legs even further, knees clacking against the hard plastic of his chair. Blinking away the bleary, cockdrunken tears welled up in your eyes. “Wan’ it- want hngh! Wan’ you to breed me, Ken.”

He can’t stop himself from grazing a sweet, sweet kiss right on your moaning lips - followed very shortly by a mean smack! on your clit. Your shuddering cunt glossing the very tips of his fingers down to his wristwatch in a dripping, hot coat of your honeyed juices. 

And more. 

So much more.

“Wait- Ken that’s gonna- oh-” 

Maybe it was the way that cool wedding band on his left hand burned so starkly against your steamingly hot cunt, maybe it was that forceful push of the very curve of his raw cock into your g-spot - or maybe it was how Nanami just looked at you. Hazel eyes half-lidded, pupils blown, mouth slacking ever-so-slightly agape with your sloshing swivels. Because your orgasm slams into you immediately after, knocking every breath and sentence out of your delirious mouth. 

And he crashes his lips into yours, chuckling at the messy way your pussy was gushing all around him. You feel him drool with every sodden splatter of your juices, squirting until you saw stars.��

When you’re finally pulling away - delicate strings of spit snapping, Nanami chasing hazily after your mouth - all you can peer down is at the way his strict uniform was so soaked now. 

Neat slacks about ten shades darker than usual, and your cunt still wasn’t done - drooling all across in a lewd pool underneath, spreading every time you fucked your self down on his weepy cock. Hell, if you were in a better state of mind you’d have noticed that some of it got on his button-up, too. 

“Squirtin’ all over me, how cute-” Nanami simpers, low and slow. His mouth greedily salivates at the sight, “Can’t believe this-” You’re gifted with another sudden spank on your clit, and he lazily soothes over with a roll of his thumb. “-cute cunt s’gonna have me conceiving our f-first kid in the hngh- office.”

You pant hopefully, still being wrung through the peaks of your high. “Y-you were serious about that–?”

“I’ve never been more serious about a damn thing, my wife.” And he loved how the words tasted on his tongue - almost as much as he loved the taste of his fingers in his mouth, savoring you. Sucking. Eyes twinkling, “So ya better get ready. S’gonna get real relaxing soon.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “So gorgeous…”

It’s just about all that Geto can breathe out right now, all that he can think. Dark eyes half-lidded and boring right into yours, smug mouth sagging open, falling to let out such a loud moan. 

“Ohh-” his brows scrunch together. Jostling around your ravenous body where you were sitting so prettily on his lap, he’s leaning backwards greedily taking in every single inch of you he could see. Purring, “Ya look so fuckin’ pretty like th-this, dontcha?”

All you can do is keen in response, your trembly fingers taking a hold of the back of Geto’s chair to just slam your stinging hips downwards. 

“Feels too- ngh- good Sugu- Could do this forever.” you’re mewling, and he feels you weigh your entire body on top of him. Resting atop those tediously sculpted muscles of his to angle your hips just the way you liked. 

He felt so used right now, and shit - he’s never been harder about it. 

You could feel the way each stuttering ram down Geto’s reddened length left him growing even girthier, stretching out your snug channel even more impossibly open. His rock-hard cock was reaching deeply, kissing sweet, lingering kisses pointedly on the bullseye of your g-spot. Again. And again. And again and again-

“Heh-” his snicker ruffles your hair, dancing two large hands down to your waist. Spreading open those jittering globes of your ass until your ravaged pussy lips were spread so shamefully. And fuck, that heavenly sight was enough to make him gulp. To have his voice pitching a few octaves higher than usual when he hums, “Am I the one g-gettin’ fucked or hngh-” Leaving a trail of syrupy-sweet kisses down your tear-stricken face, “-are you?”

“S-so mean…” you’re jutting your lower lip out in a pout. The very action makes him lick his lips dangerously. “I should j-jus’ hngh- leave you here- to handle the meeting all alone-”

Truly, it’s become something of a little tradition - Geto loved to call it his “good luck charm” - how you milked the fucking soul out of him before every single cult meeting he led. And shit, has it been good luck alright.

“Awww, but you won’t will, ya honey?” His chest rumbles with vibrations, one hand jerking your face upwards to tug on your spit-glossed lips. He’s nodding along to your drunken babbles, drifting your hasty bounces further and further into lazy grinds with his words. “Because you’re my gorgeous lil’ cockslut, aren’t ya?” His words ring headily across your head - across the meeting hall.

Gasping when Geto suddenly shifts his body so that your ass smacked against his muscular thighs with each saturated drag, bruising against his milky muscles. 

“N’ you-” he whispers lowly against your ear, suckling softly on the sensitive spots at your throat. And you feel like such a fucking ragdoll when he abruptly bounces his thigh upwards - and you right along with it. “-are the only fuckin’ reason I stay sane during these f-fucking meetings.”

It’s a hoarse, breathed-out little admission that you barely even hear over those drippingly wet squelches from down below. Geto was fucking up into you unapologetically, eyes revered downwards at how cockdrunken you were moving right now. Sloppy. Depraved.

Burbling out, “Th-then you should really be- hngh!” You swivel your bratty hips down harshly against his heavy, cum-filled balls. They twitch and squeeze with each movement, yearning to just fill you up already. “-nicer to- me-”

Your words are so rudely interrupted by one of Geto’s impatient ruts, which he barely even acknowledges before you tug on his inky hair. 

“Ahh fucking fine.” he’s hissing out, leaky tip just as needy as he was becoming right now. Shit, Geto knew that he was losing control. Becoming irregular. Hasty. “Fine- fine fuck!” 

His long, slender fingers wrap delicately around your throat, nudging your lips in a wet, coquettish graze against his snarl. “Tell me what you want, then.”

Geto feels the way your gummy walls clench around him delightedly, how heated your pussy becomes as you get even more sluttily drenched. Just by this? Shit, he might have to play nice with you more often. And that smile on your face - oh, how gorgeous it was. Making him ram his thighs once more in a powerfully pressurized thrust. “I wan’ a kiss, Sugu.”

“A kiss?” he chokes back a gasp, eyes growing wider. The way you only nod has his high cheekbones flushing pink, humming, “I’ll do you one better.”

It takes only a few more swashing crashes of his weepy tip against your sweet spots before he’s pursing his lips - ready. Only to spit out a thick wad of saliva right onto the middle of your lolling tastebuds. So much - because Geto’s mouth was already watering at each one of your cute whines before this. 

And then it’s not long before you cum. Fuck, honestly you think you’re cumming as soon as that hot stream hit your tongue.

Toes curling, languid hips stuttering, you could only let out moan after moan of Geto’s name. You felt like you were in heaven, his thick cock sinking in and out of you to drag out every bit of your high. Squeezing him so tight-

“Fuck…fuck-” he’s grunting, each one ragged and rough like they were being ripped from his throat. “M’gonna-”

And then you’re feeling so fucking full, whatever snug space your cunt was being stretched out into was all of a sudden being filled out by thick ropes of Geto’s hot, potent cum. It was swelteringly hot filling you up, and trickling in a velvety sheen down the innards of your thighs. 

With a loud groan, Geto fucks it back up until his seed was knocking at your very womb. “Now we can start the meeting.” Mouth attacking yours into a sopping mess of a kiss, barely-open eyes flitting to the bowed group of cult members that sat silently behind you. Waiting. “Dontcha think, everyone?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - One more

“Baby- oh p-please.” You were his girl, his pretty baby - and ah were you driving him crazy right about now. The slow, sultry swirl of your hips around his sensitive cock making stars burst behind Choso’s teary eyes, every languid drag of your cunt down his shaft making it only sob sweltering hot streams of precum. “One more- just one more–”

It was his first time finally having you ride him - or, well, it was a few hours ago. The one thing you hadn’t anticipated was just how heavily addicted your pretty boyfriend would get on it.

“Are you sure, Cho?” you’re humming, but your hips show absolutely zero sights of stopping. And it wrenches out the most broken of whines from him. “If you wanna stop we can-”

“No!” And Choso’s body is moving before his mind, those rosy pink lips of his babbling pussydrunkenly a mile a minute. The soft pads of his fingers dig into the curve of your ass, leaving neat little crescent patterns for him to admire later. 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting, snarling into a messy kiss against your lips. Teeth clacking, drool trailing. Nodding as he just slams your slobbering pussy down his hefty cock. Recklessly. “-need it. Need it so badly, my p-pretty girl– don’t think I ah- got ‘nough yet.”

Yeah, addicted. 

And it’s like he’s just raring to go all over again no matter what his poor, overused cock says. Angrily reddish tip thumping in a low throb! throb! throb! against your spongy cervix, glossing all over your snug channel in milky streams. Spreading in a silken puddle underneath the two of you, it was so wet. 

All it took was the tiniest inch of your cunt swallowing his greedy inches, and that was more than enough to make his twitchy balls just ache to cum all over again. 

Your fingers tangle in his sweat-damped hair, scratching lightly against Choso’s scalp in a way that makes him purr. His sculpted abs ripple when his spine curves deliciously upwards. 

“Are you sure?” you tease, with a light giggle. “Sure you can hngh- c-cum f’me again?”

His mouth waters, dewy eyes flitting down towards the widely-stretched entrance of your cunt. Grazing his fingers lightly across your glistening folds, toying a thick thumb over your neglected clit. He grits out in a raspy, breathy tone, “P-promise- Promise I’ll fill ya up- hngh- I promise, baby just please-” Boring right into your eyes, “-ride me.”

And he was so perfectly fucked when your hips start gyrating back and forth in determined grinds, head thrown with each hug of your melty walls around him. So tight. So harsh that you occasionally revel in the lazy drag of your pulsing clit against those tufts of black at his toned pelvis. 

Your jittery legs tighten around his slender waist, and he’s whining contentedly when you tug and haul his hair as leverage to maneuver your bounces. Using him. 

“Y-yeah-” he’s rambling onwards, thumb slicking with a wet sheen of your slick when his fingers draw lewd, unsteady patterns on your clit. “J-jus’ like that. Fuck- m’gonna cum so early- ah think I might jus’ c-cum dry f’you, baby–”

Another sudden clench of pussy makes him smile - it’s humorless, drunken. And you feel it grow even wider when Choso’s craning his head to kiss at the corner of your mouth. 

“Mhm, wan’ you to ngh- cum f’me, please-” Even your moans are dipping into broken territory at this point. The sheer stretch of Choso’s heavy cock making your head spin, your hips stutter, feeling every and any nook and cranny stretched out when he drills his large, rotund head up into you. “Wan’ you t-to cum in me ah- again.”

Choso’s biting down on his lower lip hard enough that you’re almost concerned it might get bloodied. One of his hands reaching up to curl deftly around the headboard, trying for the life of him to not cum already. The other growing feverish on your clit, stroking calculatedly in slow circles that have you gasping. 

“Sh-shit-” you’re leaning downwards so that he can bury his face in the crook of your neck. “Hngh- oh, k-keep up like that, baby, n’ m’g-gonna-”

“Please.” he’s begging out in wet gurgles, tears now streaming down his innocently blushed cheeks. Still so painfully overstimulated from not too long ago, but so hypnotized. Addicted. Mumbling cutely into your ear, “Cum all over my cock.”

And he felt it - fuck, he couldn’t feel anything but it. 

The way your gooey walls hugged around him so tightly - it almost made it difficult for you to slam your hips downwards. But what sort of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t help, right?

So he’s grabbing roughly onto a handful of your ass, just rutting mindlessly upwards like he was out of control. Every surge of Choso’s dick sent white-hot waves of pleasure up your spine, and you could feel the way he throbbed at each smashing nudge into your g-spot. Over and over and-

“Choso–” The way his name sounded on your lips made him just whimper, eyes scrunching shut he grinds his teeth when he bounces his thighs upwards. You cup your hands around his face, forcing him to sneak his eyes open at you. Smiling, “You’re cumming, baby.”

And that makes him gasp, droopingly half-lidded eyes immediately snapping downwards at those milky swashes of seed. The ribbons upon ribbons of cum that overspilled from each sides of your sopping slit. Painting your insides in a sticky white that creams at the thick base of his dick

Just oozing outwards, and Choso thinks he’s cumming blanks at this point. Angry cock streaming out thick loads of nothing, balls clenching so painfully. 

The thought alone makes his jaw sag open, tears staining his taste buds. He’s bawling out, “Fuck- oh fuck, please-” Gulping heavy, heaving exhales, Choso murmurs against your lips. “One more.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Pretty pink ribbons

“You are s-so–” Ryomen Sukuna manages to grit out through his clenched canines, snapping them at you ferally when you only smirk. And he only scoffs, “-gettin’ it.”

You have to bite your lip to hold back that little giggle you knew would only make the king of curses more infuriated - because he looked so unfairly sexy like this. All splayed out on the velvety royal sheets, abs rippling and twitching with each of your tiniest movements, all four hands pinned to the towering bedposts by those pretty pink ribbons he’d bought for you just today.

So many thick, massive inches of his matchingly swollen cocks sunken into your sodden cunt - barely even. And no matter how many times you took him, no matter the fact that you were riding him, he was always too large.

Too stuffed snugly into your tight cunt, until your puffed-up pussy lips were just bulging around his shafts. Drooling a translucent ring down his hardened dicks with each short grind of pressure. 

“Getting what, Kuna?” you moan, with a slight hint of smugness in your honeyed tone. The sultry swivels of your hips slowing down ever-so-slightly until you could feel his needy throbs. The way his weepy heads coated your insides in swelteringly hot precum in angry response. 

And fuck did he love the way our hands slid down his hulking body, hands kneading at his plush pecs. You hear the way that Sukuna hisses under his rasping breath when your nails dig in to his muscles.

“You fuckin’ know it.” he snarls up at you, biting down on one of your nipples jiggling tantalizingly in his face. He sucks and glides his tongue in lazy sucks, eyes drooping up at you. “Tyin’ up the king of curses. I should have ya e-executed for this shit, brat.”

He wasn’t the least bit convincing and both of you knew it. 

Grumbling, he’s leaning backwards, cheeks still hollowed out on your perky tits. Using all those long, long years of battle to just fuck up into your drippingly wet cunt.

Oh, he could get off to just the squelch that follows, the royal chamber just echoing with that sticky staccato of skin-on-skin. Sukuna breathes out a hot puff of air through his nose, teeth pricking at your tender skin. “F-fuck yeah, yer really payin’ for it when I ngh- g-get out of this.”

That maddening jostle of his achy cocks inside you made your head spin. You moan when they bump into one another, thumping veins grazing and massaging against your stretched-out walls. It’s like he was molding you into the very shape of his cocks - one leaky head swiping at your g-spot, the other pressed up so stubbornly into your springy cervix with Sukuna’s change in angle. 

It takes you a few sloppy seconds to catch your heaving breath enough to whine out, “Th-that’s if you ngh! get out.”

And he grins - oh, Sukuna grins that very same grin you’ve seen him bare at those lowly curses he vaporizes in a second - chuckling darkly, “Silly girl.” And then the very bottom of your poor pussy is stamped with a hard push of his hips, branding that circular divot of one of his fat cocks. Then the other. “You think this- ohh fuck- this is enough to restrain me? How cute–”

Then your musing pace is being met with a few of his powerful, pressurized ruts upwards. Obscenely using that stacked position of his erections to drag your puffy clit along his pelvis. Leaving a glistening trail down, down, down to where your cunt was being stuffed gapingly full, stuttering your bounces through.

“Oh fuck-” you’re mewling, tears springing to your eyes at the twin stimulation. Fingers tangling in his innocently pink locks, “Right there, Kuna.”

“Shit- easy on the hair, woman.” he’s rolling his eyes. “N’ didn’t you say you had it a-all under hngh- control? Even fuckin’-” You feel that angry clench of his heavily smacking balls against your ass, the way the headboard ricketed when he tugs on those ribbons once more. “-tied me up for it.”

Only after a few sudden snaps! of Sukuna’s hips do you manage to finally babble out the words, “M’sorry didn’t- hngh-” Your hips are getting so messy now, strained so tightly that you feel like you’ll implode. You’re leaning down to rest your head in the crook of his neck, and he kisses away wetly at your cheek. Huffing out a slight snicker when you reach your hand towards his tied wrists. “I-I’ll untie-”

“No.” he’s cutting you off. “Leave them, I have a ah- another way you can make it up t’me.” 

Even though he trails off, your cockdrunken mind can already piece together what your dear king wants. Sucking in deep inhales when he forces his hips painfully still, forcing you to grind down on him with a disappointed whine. Sultry, slow turns of your hips that have him coated in all your gooey wetness, swirling around those ever-thickening shafts inside until they were kissing your sweetest spots. It makes him tease, breath hot against your ear lobe, “Cum f’me.”

It’s almost embarrassing how on cue you are - stars sparking behind your eyes when you finally cum all over Sukuna’s cock. Your mewls turning into moans, grinds turning into urgent bounces of your drooling pussy down his length. Clenching. Milking him. Over and over through your high - using him. 

Suddenly, two rough hands clasp around your waist, another rolling his thumb ruthlessly to fuck you through your orgasm, and the last just hauling your lips onto Sukuna’s. 

Rosy lips sucking on your tongue is what it takes for you to snap your eyes open and realize - those pink ribbons on the floor, Sukuna’s pink hair tickling against yours, his pink tip poking just enough out of your gummy cunt. As dangerously needy as his smile, words a whimper. “Now, what were ya sayin’ about m-making it up t’me?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Shut up!

Gojo Satoru knew he was cocky, he knew that no one - no one - stood a chance against the strongest. He knew that he was decidedly not about to break just as soon as you pinned him down to his navy blue sheets, drawing a dripping drag of your drooling cunt on his throbbing cock.

And he knew that last bit was a fucking lie.

“Heh, y-you think this will be enough to ah- what was that-” he’s rolling his pretty cerulean eyes, fighting for the life of him to keep them agonizingly open when your hot cunt glissades across his rock-hard shaft in a slow, saturated slide. “-‘absolutely ruined’? Well, love to see the confidence, sweetheart, but-”

His leaky head is peaking just through your glistening pussy lips, barely even an inch being milked up into your plushy walls. 

But then oh, Gojo’s eyes are rolling back to the very depths of his head, breath hitching in an embarrassingly high pitch in his throat. Losing any and all control when his greedy hands drop in a split-second to your waist, helping you ram your taunting hips to sheath his swelteringly hot cock. 

“That-” he’s gasping, eyes narrowing down at your smug smirk. “That was fuckin’ cheating, girl n’ you ah- k-know that.”

“If you say so.” you hum, with a pointed roll of your eyes. 

Gojo feels you gyrate your hips in such a hypnotizing way, a lazy circular roll that has his toned body arching upwards into a perfect bow. All ten fingernails digging into the curve of your hips when you rock against him harder. Rougher. Using him. 

He was so big that even the tiniest of grinds had the rounded end of Gojo’s thickened head crashing into the very bottom of your pussy. Smearing a steamingly hot ribbon of precum across your spongy cervix, he just smiles at the bit of recoil it has. 

So pretty. 

“F-fuck–” Gojo’s hiccuping out, pearly white teeth sinking down onto his bottom lip to stop those whimpers from falling out. “S’that all you ah- g-got? Need help?” Chortling out the most cockiest of laughs that only deepen that cute furrow in your brow, Gojo makes a smug display of strength matching your own cadence. Barely breaking a sweat to rut up into you. “Honestly, pretty, you’ve got to-”

Then you clench - you squeeze. 

Your gummy walls hugging him so tightly - difficult, considering Gojo’s jaw-dropping girth. And after that every bounce of your hips downwards felt like you were sucking the fucking soul out of him. Stretching out the very deepest of your insides to make him pathetically speechless.

Gojo lets out a husky fuck! fuck! fuck! with each of your calculated movements, and it just leaves his dick aching. Groaning, “You’ve g-got to- hah-” It was too much - he was at the end of his fucking rope - and it’s all that Gojo can do to wrangle your hips into his rough grasp, pinning down your ravenous pace until you slow down your riding ever-so-slightly. “You’ve got to stop- hngh- c-cutting me off sweetheart!” he’s bawling out.

Big, twinkling tears clinging onto his lashes, they flutter with each of your merciless swivels. The curve of your ass massaging his achy balls, your clit leaving his white tufts of hair drenched in syrupy sweet slick. 

It makes you grin. “Well who told you to get ngh- c-cut off, Toru?”

Oh, in that moment Gojo is shoving every long inch of his slender fingers into your mouth, bullying between your bruised lips to swirl around your mean tongue.

“Sh-shut up- Maybe you should take fuck! notes–” He clenches his teeth in a feral smile, and he’s never felt fucking weaker. Not even with a desperate grip on your hips, not even with jujutsu thrumming at his fingertips, at his eyes. Overspilling with each leaky bead of precum being thrusted into your gooey depths. “Sweetheart–”

“Toru-”

At this moment, you’re sure that Gojo’s taking advantage of his inhuman reflexes - because in mere seconds, he pounds his cock upwards with a pained grunt. Fully overtaking your own rhythm to fuck up into you again. And again. And again and again and-

Shit, he could stop. He didn’t want to stop. 

The only thing crackling through his mind being the slight spark of jujutsu drawn out with his poor, overworked cock, and the feeling of you. How badly he wanted more more more-

“Cum f’me-” Gojo’s words come out in an almost-unintelligible puff of feverish breath. Drool dripping from the side of his rosy red lips as you only rode him harder, “Cum while you ride me- please- fuck fuck fuck- I surrender I tell you- hngh! Please c-cum f’me.”

Except he’s the one cumming first, spurting out thick, ribbony ropes of seed - there was so much. And Gojo throws his head back with a dragged-out yelp, choking out broken pants of your name while he cums and cums so hard he thinks he can’t fucking feel his cock.

Can’t tell when the lights burst out, when the tiny tingles from his hands send bolts of electricity down your body - making you crash headfirst into your orgasm, as well. 

That’s when your hips get sloppy, letting Gojo’s seed dribble down in milky swashes. So thick, that you almost think you could count every dredge, sticking your sopping wet slit to the thick base of his cock with each stutter up and down up and down up and down-

You moan around Gojo’s slender fingers - flashes of pleasure making your head spin - and that’s what finally snaps him out of his pussydrunk reverie. 

Blinking his eyes back open, it takes him a few seconds to adjust to the new darkness in the heady room. And only a few more to start up another slight movement of his hips - slow, sensitive - hissing at the burn. Lips wobbling, voice teary when he continues, “Best out of three- or eight?”

“...”

“Five?”

A/N. No, Gojo, not five, you can have me five BILLION times actually. More, even, if society allows me. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[cheuby]

waking up to simon riley is really sweet.

retired/civilian simon riley in mind, part two to this post. a/n: honestly didn’t expect people to like the first post but here we are, thank you everyone for the pleasant surprise! also, i try to make simon feel more ‘human’, i feel like he doesn’t get humanized enough, does that make sense?

waking up to simon is like being shielded against the world, the contour of his body cradling your softer one as he holds you close in his sleep; maybe there’s an arm thrown haphazardly over your frame, perhaps a leg, or maybe he’s even put a leg between your legs — either way, you’re a mess of limbs and it’s like simon is attempting to fuse with you in his sleep.

simon who sighs deeply before he wakes. when asleep, his chest rises and falls with measured breaths, working in a rhythm; the epitome of peace. but, you move one good inch, try to untuck yourself from underneath his arm, anything — he stirs, filling his lungs with air before huffing it out not even a moment afterward, melting back against you more insistent on putting the weight and heat of his heavy build more onto you.

simon finds himself airing out his apologies as his lips drag across your warm skin in lazy kisses. he almost crushed under his weight in his sleep? he sounds so sorry, voice low and practically murmured whisperers against your skin. his brain is still attempting to catch up with his sleep slurred mumbles, filling in the blanks of his apologies with a kiss or absentminded hum.

simon is just really pretty when he wakes up. if you manage to stop him from nuzzling — or head-butting — into whatever part of you is soft enough for him to bury his face into, he’s all slow blinks and droopy eyes. it also takes a bit for his expression to soften into something a bit sweeter when he first wakes (he has a literal resting bitch face), squinted eyes and his lips pressed into an unamused line. it’s oddly satisfying to see his expression bordering on a pout, rich brown irises looking up at you through pale lashes.

simon has to smooth over the smile that’s fighting to tug at the corner of his lips for a more empathetic one when he’s taking you in for the first time in the morning, your hair a mess. if he didn’t know better, he would’ve asked if you were tossing and turning all night instead of if he did that, his calloused palms petting down your messy hair in short strokes before they settled at framing your face.

saying good morning to simon is a must. if he’s just waking up and he’s gruffing out a good morning, he expects to hear one back. he doesn’t want to hear a groan or some half-assed ‘morning’, it has to be good morning specifically. and oh, you’re asleep? he’s nudging your forearm gently with his knuckle to rouse you a bit, saying another insistent (but sweeter) good morning until you respond.

simon doesn’t always want to be on the go. sometimes being draped in warm covers and a tangle of limbs is where it’s at for simon, wanting to find a little more time in bed with you. so when he’s spooning you and starts crowding impossibly closer, his chin perched right on your shoulder as he uses your extended forearm to prop up his phone like some kickstand to watch some woodcarving asmr video on youtube — you better not move and your eyes better be on that screen, this is his and your enrichment time.

[reiderwriter]

☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman. 

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either. 

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart. 

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie. 

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-” 

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!” 

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels. 

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-” 

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?” 

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-” 

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.” 

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls. 

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!” 

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him. 

No such apology came. 

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.” 

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-” 

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.” 

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered. 

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell. 

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi. 

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing. 

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there  but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up. 

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-” 

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away. 

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book. 

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused. 

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment. 

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?” 

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door. 

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible  despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?” 

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche. 

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat. 

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip. 

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.” 

“Right… right…” 

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch. 

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours. 

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth. 

“So?”  he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away. 

“Why are you really here, YN?” 

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second. 

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.” 

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… Y/N, I-” 

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name. 

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out. 

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.” 

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions. 

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.” 

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-” 

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick. 

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all. 

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before. 

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-” 

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you. 

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now. 

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close. 

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position. 

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal. 

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?” 

You shrugged and looked away  almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night. 

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.” 

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in. 

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.” 

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.” 

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?” 

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well. 

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips. 

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again. 

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret. 

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.” 

“So you did yourself?” 

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off. 

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?” 

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head. 

“He didn't want me to.” 

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead. 

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world. 

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken. 

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter. 

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down. 

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear. 

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that. 

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend. 

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch. 

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically. 

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly. 

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket. 

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access. 

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.” 

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass. 

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive. 

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.” 

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you. 

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra. 

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh. 

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh,  still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants. 

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you. 

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for. 

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time. 

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-” 

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap. 

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure. 

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-” 

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss. 

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you. 

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk. 

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax. 

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face. 

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure. 

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure. 

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him. 

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high. 

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close. 

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue. 

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear. 

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.” 

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist. 

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss  a sweet, soft one. 

“Yes.” He kissed you again  and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again. 

“H-He-” 

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.” 

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot. 

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock. 

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could. 

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again. 

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release. 

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time. 

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last. 

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access. 

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated. 

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.” 

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time. 

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.” 

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.” 

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.” 

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position. 

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more. 

“Where should I cum  Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again. 

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too. 

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?” 

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already. 

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away. 

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him. 

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further. 

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore. 

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed. 

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.” 

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you. 

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.” 

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.” 

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh. 

You didn't say anything  but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum. 

“You're on birth control, right?” 

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well. 

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him. 

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently. 

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.” 

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again. 

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again. 

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away. 

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply  and you lost your breath again. 

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.” 

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other. 

[fairy-angel222]

Pervy best friends Suguru and Satoru.

It’s so lewd how they always check your pussy after you come home from college. Sat in Suguru’s lap with your back against his chest as Satoru spreads your sticky folds, already so wet from thinking about them all day.

Suguru whispers teasing words in your ears, squeezing your breasts as you arch against him, rutting your hips onto Satoru’s slithering tongue with a mewl.

They’re so sweet, Satoru smirking up at you after kissing your clit. “Suguru, she’s such a good girl f’us. Kept her little pussy all nice n’ wet~” he teases. Suguru grinning as his lips meet your neck, “Hear that baby? Made Satoru so happy hmm? He’s gon’ reward you real nice.”

His hand slowly snakes down your body, your adorable whimpers going straight to his cock as his touch, cold from the assortment of rings, makes contact with your skin. Holding your thighs spread for his best friend to see, groaning when he felt your wetness dripping onto his lap.

“Gonna take everything we give you like a good girl? Let us make that cute pussy turn messy on our cocks?”

“Mhm, g-gonna take it all like a good girl. Wan’ be good for you.” You cry, needy gaze looking up at your stepbrother through your lashes. A moan falls past your lips when Satoru’s mouth latches onto you with a deep groan, lapping at your sopping cunt like he was starved. “Sweet like fucking always.”

Suguru hummed, running his thumb lovingly across your cheek before his hand reached your hair. Twisting it into a ponytail and pulling your head back onto his shoulder. You let out a whine, eyes tearing up with a soft whine at the mean action. Those same eyes fluttering close with heated cheeks when Suguru presses his lips onto yours. “Show us how good you wanna be and cum on his tongue first kay? Can our sweet girl do that?”

“Uh huh— ahh, c-can.. can do it- nngh.” You answer a little too eagerly, stuttering out a broken reply with a high pitched mewl. Allowing the two of turn and use you as they please, kissing and squeezing every inch of your body while they fuck into your tight pussy. Cocks inching deeper and deeper while hammering into your g spot, sending you into a spiral of dumb babbles as you’re pumped full with cum.

Maybe you were just as pervy as they were.

[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?”

[suguann]

Possessive!Gojo who makes you wear his jersey when you go to parties at his fraternity after games, openly admiring the way you dwarf inside his clothes. He leans forward on the edge of the bed to get a better look, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes raking over every inch of you from head to toe. 

"Toru, it's too big," you pout, checking out your reflection in the floor-length mirror on his closet door. “I look silly.”

The tent growing in his sweats says otherwise—all the blood in his body rushing from one head to the other just from seeing two things that are his coexisting—and he gives you another once-over, thinking of several ways to describe you, silly not being one of them.

"You’re so pretty, baby.” He swears he’s a little drunk from the sight of you, but he means it.

Possessive!Gojo who pushes you up against the door inside the locker room before a game—slightly jealous from the guys looking at you as they filed out into the hall, and equally turned on because he knows they can’t have you—telling you he can't play with a hard-on before he's pressing into you from behind.

He can feel your tummy quivering under his hand where he holds you close, feels how his cock is carving its way inside of you, and you both moan when he presses down lightly. It makes him dizzy how tight and small you are; pulsing, wet, and swollen-soft velvet that gives every time he buries himself into you.

"You gonna hold all of my cum in this cute cunt until after the game, y-yeah?" he sucks the question into your neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll lick it out of you afterward. Just keep it warm for me, ’kay?”

You answer him with a high-pitched whine as you clench down hard around him, cumming with a muffled scream against his palm and nearly pushing him out of your warm, fluttering heat.

Possessive!Gojo makes sure to stuff his cum back into your drooling cunt with two thick fingers, curling them into your front wall to pull another soft orgasm out of you—just a little more, ah, there you go, always so good for me—before he helps you fix your panties to trap it there.

His arms wrap around you before he presses a tender kiss to your temple. “Don’t forget to cheer for me.”

Possessive!Gojo whose smirk from watching you squirm in the stands, melts into a glare when a guy takes the empty seat beside you, sitting almost too close for his liking.

“Stop staring at your girlfriend and hit the fucking puck already,” Sukuna grumbles, leaning against his stick.

Possessive!Gojo who makes sure to fuck you in the backseat of his car afterward with the windows cracked in hopes that the guy from the stands would walk by to you moaning Gojo’s name, and he eats you out just like he promised—bending you over the center console, smiling to himself at how shy and squirmy you get—only to fill you up again.

Possessive!Gojo who pouts whenever Nanami manages to steal your attention with something sciency and nerdy (something entirely up your alley) whenever you come over on weeknights. 

“That’s so neat, Nanami,” you smile, hearts practically in your eyes as you listen to him talk about his latest research. “Maybe I can stop by the lab and check it out sometime.”

Possessive!Gojo who doesn’t miss the way Nanami’s ears turn a shade of red from your praise—color high in his cheeks—how he gives a sheepish smile whenever you talk to him.

“Toru,” you say, finally bringing your soft, pretty gaze on him again. “Are you even studying?”

Yeah, he is, but something else entirely, he thinks as he watches how your shorts hug your ass while you walk around the house’s common room—and he’s not the only one staring.

Possessive!Gojo who slaps your thigh, making you jolt in his lap. "Did I tell you to stop, huh, baby?"

You shake your head, biting your lip and avoiding the pair of eyes watching both of you (intently) from across the room—especially you—a quiet observer as you slowly sink onto your boyfriend’s cock while Nanami thrusts his own into his fist. 

"Ah, fuck—b-but–"

Your words break off into a choked moan when Gojo thrusts his hips up underneath you, pressed as deep inside as he can get, and when he looks down, he swears he can see the imprint of himself pressing against your stomach. 

"Tell me what I said,” he says through gritted teeth as he starts bouncing you, the couch continuing its steady squeaking under your knees.

Possessive!Gojo who can tell that it's hard for you to concentrate with the way his cock moves inside you, and you’re unable to answer with anything other than babbling nonsense. He decides to take mercy on you and stops to grind you in his lap instead.

He kisses your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can get his mouth on. "I said, don't stop until you cum, and you’re going to let Nanami see how fucking pretty you look when you do."

The next sound out of your mouth is a squeal when he holds your inner thighs to keep you open as he thrusts up into you again and again—letting Nanami see what can never be his.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “So good for me. Go on, show him how my good girl takes cock.”

Possessive!Gojo who locks eyes with Nanami just as he’s about to cum, burying his groans of pleasure into your neck as white-hot sparks shudder up his spine and heat pools in his gut.

Mine, he tries to say, but Gojo thinks his frat brother gets it when Gojo���s the one cumming inside you and Nanami’s spilling all over his fist.

Masterlist

[psychoticfemmm]

Prove It

Pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

Summary: Some Kook girl spreads a rumor that she hooked up with Rafe—just to piss you off. When you confront him, it turns into an argument where you start to doubt him. But Rafe? He refuses to let you walk away.

You weren’t even looking for drama tonight.

You just wanted a chill night at the party—have a drink, dance a little, maybe even get Rafe to actually behave himself for once. But no. Instead, you had to hear some random girl tell everyone that she hooked up with your boyfriend.

At first, you laughed it off.

Because really? Rafe Cameron? Cheating on you? Not a chance.

But then you saw her—smirking, flicking her eyes in your direction, looking entirely too pleased with herself. And suddenly, you weren’t so sure.

So now here you were, arms crossed, standing in front of Rafe, daring him to explain.

“She’s saying you hooked up,” you snapped, voice sharper than intended. “Are you gonna deny it, or just stand there looking like an asshole?”

Rafe, leaning against the counter with his beer, just sighed—like this was a mild inconvenience rather than a full-on crisis.

“Babe, really?” He raised a brow. “You actually believe her?”

You hesitated.

And that hesitation? Oh, Rafe did not like that.

His jaw ticked, and suddenly, he was pushing off the counter, closing the space between you in two slow steps.

“Let me get this straight,” he murmured, towering over you now. “You think I’d let some desperate, pathetic Kook girl anywhere near me—when I have you?”

You hated that he said it like that—like it was the most ridiculous accusation ever. Like you should’ve just known better.

You huffed, looking away. “I don’t know, Rafe. You weren’t exactly shutting her down.”

His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

“I don’t even know her name,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “You really think I’d fuck around on you? You think I’d risk losing you for some nobody?”

Your stomach flipped at how serious he looked—blue eyes dark, lips pressed into a firm line.

You swallowed. “…I don’t know.”

That was the wrong answer.

Rafe’s gaze hardened. “Bullshit.” He stepped closer, voice dropping lower. “You know damn well, no matter how mad you get at me, we’re always gonna work it out.”

You blinked up at him, heart hammering. “Rafe—”

“No, listen to me.” His voice was firm now, like he was making a point you weren’t allowed to argue. “You don’t get to walk away over this. Not from me.”

You sucked in a breath, nails digging into your palms. “You act like I don’t have a choice.”

Rafe grinned. “You don’t.”

His fingers curled around your jaw, holding you in place. “Because I love you. And I don’t give a shit how upset you are, you’re still mine.”

Your breath hitched. Your body was betraying you, leaning into him even as your brain told you to stay mad.

Rafe’s smirk turned smug. He could feel you giving in.

“You wanna be mad at me?” His fingers traced your jaw, down to your neck. “Fine. But don’t ever doubt that I’m yours.”

Then, just to make his point, he turned his head slightly—locking eyes with that girl across the room. The one who started all this.

And then?

He kissed you.

Hard.

His hand gripped your waist, pulling you so close there wasn’t a single inch of space between you. His other hand slid into your hair, tilting your head back, deepening the kiss.

He made a point to make it slow. Intense. Unapologetic.

By the time he pulled back, you were breathless, fingers curled into his shirt.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear, voice low and smug.

“Nice try, though.”

Across the room, the girl’s expression was pure embarrassment.

And Rafe? Rafe just grinned—like he had just won the best game he’d ever played.

You sighed. “You’re such an asshole.”

Rafe just laughed, squeezing your hip. “Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

And honestly?

Yeah, he was.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

hope you liked it <3

[moonlightwritingf1]

Sports Car | LN4

🎀 summary ━━━━━━━ Based on Sports Car by Tate Mcrae

🎀 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🎀 word count ━━━━━━━ 3.6k

🎀 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, public sex?

Based on this request.

The hum of the engine was the only sound filling the air as Lando skillfully navigated the winding roads back toward London. His McLaren, sleek and commanding in its presence, seemed to purr beneath them, its low growl a constant reminder of the sheer power it held. The soft leather seats cradled Y/N in comfort, and the subtle glow of the dashboard illuminated her features in a way that made it impossible for Lando to focus entirely on the road.

The party they’d just left—a birthday celebration for a mutual friend—was already fading into a blur of laughter, champagne, and stolen glances. Outside the car, the countryside had melted into the fringes of the city, the faint glimmer of London’s skyline growing closer with every mile. Inside, though, the world was reduced to just the two of them, bathed in the low hum of the car’s engine and the tension thickening the air.

Y/N sat quietly in the passenger seat, her hair spilling over her shoulders in soft waves, catching the faint light from passing streetlamps. Her eyes, which Lando had caught himself getting lost in countless times before, flickered with mischief as she glanced over at him. She had been unusually quiet since they left the party, but Lando could see the spark in her gaze. He didn’t need her to say anything to know she was up to something.

Lando tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his fingers flexing instinctively against the smooth leather. He didn’t mind the silence; in fact, he loved these stolen moments with her, where it felt like the world outside ceased to exist. The McLaren roared softly as he pressed down on the accelerator, effortlessly gliding onto a stretch of open road.

Her hand rested casually on her thigh, the silky fabric of her dress catching the faint glow of the streetlights. She shifted slightly in her seat, her dress riding up just enough to reveal a hint of smooth skin. He didn’t miss it. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he forced his eyes back to the road, but the air between them grew heavier with every passing second.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Lando teased, his voice low and playful. “Planning something, are we?”

Y/n’s lips curved into a sly smile, her eyes narrowing as she leaned closer. “Maybe,” she murmured, her voice soft but laced with intent. Her hand moved slowly, deliberately, sliding across the console until it rested on his thigh. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of his jeans, light but deliberate, sending a shiver up his spine.

Lando’s breath hitched, but he kept his eyes firmly on the road. “You’re going to make me crash, you know that, right?”

She chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent heat pooling low in his stomach. “You’re a professional driver, Lando. I think you can handle it.” Her fingers traced circles on his thigh, inching higher with every pass.

“Y/n,” he warned, his voice strained, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Good thing I like it hot,” she shot back, her tone dripping with confidence. Her hand moved higher still, her fingers brushing the growing bulge in his jeans. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear as she lightly kissed his ear lobe.

Lando’s jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the wheel. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, though there was no mistaking the excitement in his voice.

Y/n grinned, her confidence only growing as she felt him react to her touch. She shifted in her seat, turning her body toward him as her hand pressed more firmly against him. Her fingers worked at the button of his jeans, popping it open with practiced ease. “What’s the matter, Lando? Can’t concentrate?”

He let out a low groan, his hips jerking instinctively as she slid the zipper down. “You’re going to kill us both,” he said, though there was no real protest in his voice.

“Trust me,” she purred, her hand slipping inside his jeans, her fingers wrapping around his hard length. “You’re in good hands.”

Lando’s breath came in sharp bursts as she began to stroke him, her touch firm but teasing. His body reacted instantly, his cock twitching in her hand as he fought to keep his focus on the road. “Jesus, Y/n,” he gasped, his hips bucking against her touch.

She laughed softly, her thumb swiping over the head of his cock, spreading the bead of moisture there. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. “Thought it was only fair, I returned the favor.”

Lando’s eyes flicked to her for a moment, taking in the flushed cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. She was a vision, and she was his. “You’re lucky I’m such a good driver,” he muttered, though his voice was thick with desire.

Y/n’s smile widened as she continued to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate. “Oh, I know,” she said, her tone dripping with mischief. “But you’re still going to pull over, aren’t you?”

Lando let out a shaky laugh, his resolve crumbling with every pass of her hand. “You’re impossible,” he said, though there was no real annoyance in his voice.

“And yet, you love me,” she replied, her voice soft but filled with certainty.

His eyes softened at that, his heart swelling even as his body throbbed with need. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

Y/n’s hand stilled for a moment, her gaze locking with his as the weight of his words settled between them. She had always been guarded, always hesitant to let anyone see the real her. But with Lando, it was different. He saw her, truly saw her, and it scared her as much as it thrilled her.

“Pull over,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, not from fear, but from the intensity of the moment.

Lando didn’t hesitate. He signaled and guided the car off the road, bringing it to a smooth stop in a quiet spot. The engine continued its low hum, filling the silence as he turned to face her. His blue eyes were dark with desire, a smoldering intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. But beyond that, there was something deeper in his gaze, something unmistakable.

Love.

It was written in the way he looked at her, raw and unguarded, as though she was the center of his universe. The air between them grew heavier, the intimacy of the moment settling over them like a blanket, shutting out everything else.

Y/n’s breath caught as he reached for her, his hands cupping her face as he pulled her into a searing kiss. His lips were soft but demanding, and she melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

“You’re going to kill me,” he murmured against her lips, his hands sliding down to her waist, pulling her closer.

“Only if you let me,” she whispered back, her voice filled with promise.

Lando’s lips curved into a smirk as he reached for the lever, reclining the seat so she could straddle him. “Oh, I’m not letting you go that easily,” he said, his voice low and filled with intent.

Y/N’s heart raced as she climbed onto his lap, her dress gathering around her hips as she leaned down to kiss him again. His hands roamed her body, tracing the curves of her waist, her hips, her breasts, as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

She shivered at his touch, her body responding instantly to his words, his hands, his mouth. “Lando,” she breathed, her voice shaking with need.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her to grind against him.

She moaned softly, her body arching into his as she felt the hard length of him pressing against her. “You,” she whispered, her eyes locking with his. “I want you.”

And that was all it took.

Her dress had ridden higher as she straddled him, leaving her thighs bare against the heat of his body. His hands slid beneath the fabric, fingers exploring the soft curves of her hips with a desperate need to feel her. She shifted against him, the friction drawing a low groan from his lips, his body tensing beneath her as she moved against his hardness. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” Lando murmured, his voice low and rough, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. His breath sent shivers down her spine, and she tilted her head to give him better access. “You’re so fucking hot like this.”

She smirked, a little breathless, her hands moving to his chest as she kissed him. Her fingers traced the firm muscles there, savoring the way his skin felt warm and alive beneath her touch. His cock was already free from his jeans and boxers, hard and heavy against her thigh, the heat of it making her ache. She felt his pulse racing, his heart thundering in a rhythm that mirrored her own desperation.

"You’re not so bad yourself," she whispered, her voice teasing as she leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting lower. The sight of him like this, already stripped bare for her, sent a jolt of heat through her core. His dick twitched under her stare, swollen and needy, veins straining against the skin. She bit her lip, her eyes flashing up to meet his as she shifted her weight, grinding against him, letting him feel the wetness of her panties.

Lando’s breath hitched, his jaw clenching as his hands gripped her hips, anchoring her to him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, a low growl escaping his throat. "You’re going to kill me," he ground out, the words strained, his voice thick with want. He struggled to keep his composure, but the way his fingers dug into her hips betrayed how close he was to losing it.

She wrapped her hand around him, squeezing gently, a slow stroke that had him shuddering. His head fell back against the seat, a groan tearing from his lips as his eyes shut, his face a mask of pure, unfiltered pleasure. She loved this—loved how easily she could unravel him, how his usual confidence melted into something raw and vulnerable. The way he reacted to her touch, to her every move, was intoxicating.

Her thumb brushed over the slick tip of his cock, spreading the precum that had gathered there. She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "Do you want me to take care of this?" she murmured, her tone sweet but laced with the promise of something far more. Her hand moved again, another slow, deliberate stroke that had his hips bucking into her grip. "Or do you want to do it yourself… while I watch?"

“Y/n,” he whispered, his voice strained, his hands gripping her hips tighter. “Fuck, you’re killing me.”

She smiled, her hand moving a little faster. She could feel him twitching in her hand, and it only made her want more. “Good,” she murmured, her breath hot against his ear. “I want you to feel as crazy as you make me feel.”

Her words were enough to push him over the edge. Before she knew it, his hands, which had been on her hips, lifted her slightly as he moved her underwear to the side. She felt the tip of him pressing against her, and a soft moan escaped her lips, her body already aching for him. He didn’t wait, didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath, as he guided himself inside her, filling her completely.

The stretch was delicious, a perfect mix of pleasure and pain that made her head fall back, a moan escaping her lips as she felt him bottom out. He was so deep, so thick, and she could feel every inch of him as she shifted, trying to adjust to the sensation. But she didn’t need to adjust for long, because soon she was moving, her hands braced against his shoulders as she rode him slowly, savoring every moment.

“Fuck, Y/n,” Lando groaned, his hands moving to her waist, holding her steady as she moved. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move, and it only made her want to go faster. She leaned forward slightly, her hands moving to her dress as she pulled the fabric down, exposing her chest to him. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, his hands moving to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples.

She moaned again, the sensation of his hands on her breasts adding to the pleasure building inside her. She could feel herself getting wetter, her walls clenching around him as she moved, her pace quickening. He was so deep, so perfect, and she could feel every thrust as he filled her, his hips meeting hers with every movement.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice shaking as she moved faster, her body craving more. “Oh my god, you feel so good.”

He groaned, his hands moving to her hips, gripping her tighter as he helped her move. “You’re so tight,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “So fucking perfect.”

She could feel the pleasure building inside her, the way her body was responding to him, and she knew she was close. But she wanted to make it last, wanted to savor every moment of this. She leaned forward slightly, her hands moving back to his shoulders as she kissed him, her lips moving against his hungrily. He groaned into the kiss, his hands moving to her ass, gripping her tighter as he thrust up into her, meeting her movements with his own.

“I’m close,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his. “So close.”

“Me too,” he murmured, his hands moving to her breasts again, his thumbs brushing over her nipples as he squeezed them gently. She moaned at the sensation, her body arching into his as she felt the pleasure building inside her, the way her walls were clenching around him.

“Come for me, Y/n,” he whispered, his voice rough with need, his hips meeting hers with every thrust. “Let me feel you.”

His words were enough to push her over the edge, and she cried out, her body trembling as the pleasure washed over her. She could feel herself tightening around him, her walls clenching as she came, the sensation overwhelming. He groaned, his hips stilling as he thrust into her one last time, his body shuddering as he came inside her, filling her completely.

For a moment, they stayed like that, their bodies pressed together, their breathing heavy as they tried to catch their breath. She could feel his heart racing beneath her, the way his hands were still gripping her tightly, as if he never wanted to let her go. And in that moment, she didn’t want him to.

“That was…” he started, his voice shaky, his hands moving to her waist as he pulled her closer. “Fuck, Y/n, that was amazing.”

She smiled, her hands moving to his chest as she leaned into him, her body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of her orgasm. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmured, her voice teasing as she kissed him softly, her lips brushing against his.

He groaned, his hands moving to her ass as he pulled her closer, his lips moving against hers hungrily. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, his voice rough with need as his hands roamed over her body, already craving more.

The car was still quiet except for the faint hum of the engine and their heavy breathing, their bodies tangled together in the aftermath of passion. Y/n was still straddling Lando's lap, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. She could feel the weight of his cum inside her, the warmth of it making her pulse quicken again. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, her nails lightly scratching the skin as she leaned into him, her lips brushing against his neck.

“Lando,” she murmured, her voice soft but laced with a need she couldn’t suppress. “I… I need to move.”

He glanced down at her, his eyes dark and hazy with desire, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Why?” he teased, his voice low and husky, one hand still gripping her hip possessively. “You’re exactly where I want you.”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing as she shifted slightly, feeling the way his cum threatened to spill out of her with even the slightest movement. “I… I don’t know how to get up without, you know… making a mess,” she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper, her heart racing at the thought.

Lando’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “My mess,” he murmured, his voice dripping with possession, sending a shiver down her spine. “You’re going to sit with it, aren’t you? Until we get back home.”

Her breath hitched, her body reacting instantly to his words, a flush of heat spreading through her as she felt herself growing wet again. “Lando,” she protested weakly, her voice trembling as her fingers tightened against his chest. “That’s… that’s so dirty.”

“Good,” he growled, his hands tightening on her hips as he pressed her down against him, making her gasp at the sensation. “You like it, don’t you? Knowing you’re full of me. Keeping me inside you.”

She couldn’t deny it, her body betraying her as she felt her arousal spike at his words. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she pressed her face into his neck, her lips brushing against his skin. “Yes, I do.”

He chuckled softly, his hands moving to guide her as she shifted against him, his touch firm but gentle. “Let me help you,” he said, his voice low and commanding, his fingers gripping her hips as he slowly lifted her off him. She gasped as she felt his cock slide out of her, the sensation of his cum spilling out slightly making her clench around nothing, her body already craving him again.

“Lando,” she moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders as she tried to steady herself, her body trembling with need.

“Quiet, love.” Lando’s voice was low, carnal, as his hands slid down her thighs. Her body shivered against him, her breath hitching when his fingers grazed the edges of her soaked underwear. She could feel his cum already trickling out of her, warm and slick, pooling between her legs. His touch was deliberate, possessive, as he tugged the fabric back into place, covering her pussy with a soft rustle of lace. “There you go. All covered up. But you’re still dripping, aren’t you?”

Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t look away. His smirk was wicked, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Every time you move, you’re going to feel me leaking out of you. Right into your cute little panties,” he said, helping her back into the passenger seat.

She swallowed, her thighs pressing together instinctively. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Mm?” He ran a finger along the edge of her underwear, his touch feather-light. “You like it, don’t you? Feeling me warm inside you, spilling out where only I’ve been?”

Her breath hitched, her fingers clutching the edge of the seat. She couldn’t lie. Not with the way her body throbbed at his words. “Yes.” The word was barely audible, but it was enough to make his smirk widen.

“Good girl.” He kissed her cheek, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away. “But we’re not done. Not tonight.”

Her heart raced as she watched him tuck himself back into his boxers and jeans, his movements slow, deliberate. His hand brushed against his cock as he zipped up, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She’d never seen him like this—so in control, so commanding.

The engine purred back to life, and Lando’s eyes slid to hers as he adjusted the rearview mirror. “Keep your legs closed, yeah? Don’t let a drop of me go to waste.”

Her thighs pressed together tighter, her pulse quickening at his words. She could feel his cum sliding out of her, soaking into her underwear, and it made her ache for him all over again.

He glanced at her again, his expression softening for just a moment. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “Every part of you.”

She bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I… I want you again.”

His hand moved to her thigh, his grip firm but gentle. “Patience, love. You’ll get what you need. But first, you’re going to sit with me inside you until we’re home. Think you can handle that?”

She nodded, her breath catching as she felt another trickle escape her. “Yes,” she breathed, her voice barely audible.

“Good.” He squeezed her thigh once, his eyes locked on the road, but his voice dropped lower, rougher. “Because I’m not done with you. Not even close.”

[yeyinde]

Ghost has a thing for fucking you when you're asleep—

(—and maybe one day he'll get around to telling you about it, too.)

noncon/dubcon somnophilia. spit kink. brief anal.

He likes you like this. When you're soft, pliant. A malleable little doll under his hands that he can shape to his will. Bend.

You're so small compared to him. Tiny. The difference unmoors the chains keeping his vile, nasty urges at bay, until they spool—horrific and depraved—around him. Unleashes the need in the back of his head that screams, howls, and tells him to own, possess. Claim.

Ruin you—

And you belong to him. Everything. Every part of you is his, down to your goddamn marrow. Your bones are marked with his name, false starts carved into milky bones.

he doesn't really see the problem with taking what is his.

—and so, he does.

His sweet, sweet girl who can barely take his cock when you're awake—too much, too fat—and so he makes do with slaking his hideous, bestial need on your body when you're asleep. When he can fold your knees up to your ears, and fuck you as deep, as hard, as he wants without worrying about you seeing the want rotting in his eyes, and run—

The stretch, you whine. He's too much for you. The biggest you've ever had. It isn't meant to stroke his ego, he knows this, but still. He preens when you add, liquid and pained, by a considerable margin, Simon—

Like this, asleep, you're relaxed. Liquid. 

And with the sleeping pills crushed into your bedtime tea you always (always) take an hour before bed, he can do whatever he wants to do. However he wants. 

Splits you open with his tongue, fucking into you until you're sloppy and wet. Spitting on your cunt and pushing the foamy glob into your tight hole at his own leisure without having a rain of indignant fists come down across his shoulders, disgusted by the degrading action. Don't spit on me, Simon, that's gross—

(but you swallow it like a good girl when he grabs you by the neck, thumb digging into the dent of your larynx until you open nice and wide for him, tongue sliding out like you're begging for it—)

His little hellion awake. But asleep? 

He gets your pussy messy with his spit, fucking it into you with two fingers—another benefit to fucking you asleep is that he doesn't have to bother with building up, can stretch you out on two fingers without those breathy little mewls spilling out, telling him it's too much. Then three with his mouth glued to your clit, feeling your cunt clench down on him as he bullies it with his tongue. The pressure is too much, too intense. You'd be howling if you were awake, but—

You're not. 

The only sound is the lews squelch of him fucking you open with three fingers, sucking noisily at your pebbled clit. 

Music to his ears. 

And if he's in a hurry. Well. Skipping foreplay all together is fine. Just has to spit on his palm, coat it over his shaft, and make you open up for him. Splitting you open on just his cock. All tight—agonizingly so—around him. 

You can take it. 

He knows you can. You take everything he throws at you—knees pushed to your ears, cock bulging out from your belly. Head buried in a pillow as he flattens his body over yours, and ruts into your cunt while he smothers you under his bulk. Indescribably tight like this with your thighs squeezed together between his own. On your side with your leg thrown over his hip, or held high in the air. 

He likes it best when you're on your back, though. Soft and sweet. Little hiccups leaving your slack lips as he forces you to take every inch he has to offer. Bullying his fat cock into your pussy. Over and over again—

Quenching his unbearable lust on you until it's slated on your flesh, cunt stuffed full of his cum.

Or your ass. 

You're wary about him burying his fat length into your ass. It'll hurt, is the biggest excuse you like to give, hands tucked against the swell of your bottom as if that would be enough to keep him away. You've never done that before and taking him in your pussy was already a lot, you couldn't imagine taking him there, too—

It's a problem. Too bad for you, he has always been task oriented. Someone who likes the squash issues under his thumb. 

And that's exactly what he does. 

Starts with his thumb shoved inside your hole when he's fucking your pussy. Then a finger. Two. Likes to lick at your cunt before shoving your knees to your chest, lifting your ass in the air, and devouring it with the same rapacious appetite. Tongue fucking into you, getting you all sloppy and wet, stretching you open so he can seat you down on his cock. All the way to the base. Stretching your rim wide around his girth. Pounding your tight little ass until he cums inside of you. Filling you over and over again until it leaks out, soaking into the sheets below. 

His pretty little doll. All fucked out and messy. 

With you asleep, Simon can take from you—as much as he needs to fill this greedy, gaping maw inside of himself—without burdening you. Scaring you away. 

And he'd rather not have to chase you down like a dog—

It's the perfect arrangement that lets him exorcise himself of the horrible, awful, things he wants to do to you. Quench the bloodlust, the violence, that drums up in the back of his head, ugly and noxious, that leaks poison into his blood. Makes him see you torn to pieces by his enemies, wrenched away by the people who think they know what's best for you. Taken. The urge to claim you is animalistic. Primal. 

This—

This is bloodletting. It's spilling the rot from inside himself so it doesn't fester. Turn septic. Gangrenous. Eating at his tissue until his hands no longer belong to himself, but to the mercy of his monstrous need. 

It lets him ruin you, tear into you like a beast, without worrying about you running from him. Fleeing from this rapacious green he holds deep in the fibrils of his chest. Hewed into his essence, subsumed into his marrow. 

Simply put: he needs this. Just like you need him. Simon. Need him like the air you breathe—

(And sometimes, sometimes, you get this peculiar look on your face before bed. A frisson. Unease, pensive. It splits over your brows, an evanescent tremor. He thinks you might be more aware than you let on. That you know about this hideousness inside him, this putrid greed that sloshes around the edges of his eyes sometimes, trying to bleed in, trickling down over his periphery before he can stop it. 

But it dissolves into complacency before he can chisel into it, leaving nothing behind but a faint stink of stale smoke. Acrid—like doused embers. Burning his nose, his lungs—)

And when he's had his fill—stuffed that chasm inside his belly with your flesh—he cleans you up, and pulls you tight to his chest. Satiated for the time being. Falling asleep with the taste of you on his tongue, locked tight in his embrace. Tenders to your aches the next morning, as soft and supple as he can ever allow himself to be. 

There’s a place for him, he’s sure, when he lies to you, and says that you must have slept the wrong way. That maybe he was a little too hard on you the night before. And maybe if he were a better person, a better man, he might have felt some sense of guilt for it. Shame.

But instead, he coos at you and says:

It’s his fault, pet, but don’t worry he’ll take such good care of you. Licking your sore cunt all day until you grab him by the scruff of his neck, and tell him no more, please, Simon, stop, stop—it doesn’t hurt anymore, please—

He relents an hour before bed and takes you to the kitchen where you sit and drink the tea he made without a word.

Like a good girl—

And then you slip into bed in nothing but his old shirt, curling up against his chest, and whispering—soft and sweet—into his ear, "good night, Simon."

(his sweet, sweet girl.

like you're fucking begging him for it—)

[joelsgoldrush]

“you can use my skin to bury secrets in” | 6.8k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?” OR Logan had always known your generosity would get him in trouble. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. pining. mentions of alcohol. dirty talk. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). logan’s POV. angst/self-deprecation (he just needs a little loving). religious imagery. feelings. petnames. chauffeur!logan. oral sex (m receiving, tiny bit of f receiving). sort of dom!logan. doggy style. unprotected p in v. creampie. A/N: i could say i'm sorry for this, but i'm not. love love love this old man (#needthat). heavily inspired by the song "i know" by fiona apple. @lubdubology my partner in crime who keeps putting up with me, tysm!!! hope you all enjoy it <3

The line between being a good and bad person is thin. So thin, in fact, that Logan finds himself stepping back and forth across it constantly.

Rescuing a kitten from a tree? Good.

Punching a guy at a bar because he didn’t feel like being acknowledged? Bad.

Saving countless lives from mass destruction? Good—heroic, even.

But killing others to do it? Bad—condemnable, scum of the earth.

Where does that leave him? Which side has laid claim to his soul? He’s long accepted he’ll never see the pearly gates.

When the day comes that his body can no longer take it, and he only grows wearier, he’s pretty sure there’s a special place in hell with his name on it, etched in some grave awaiting to be filled.

Maybe Satan’s already counting down the days until he shows up at his door, who knows?

Yet, the more time passes by, the less afraid he is of what lies beneath the surface. He’s learned to coexist with the darkness, with the kind of pain and loneliness that would crush most men.

He doesn’t know how, but he survives it—the agony, the memories, the solitude that hits him from time to time.

And still, he doesn't lose himself entirely. He’s tempted, of course, to linger in the past—it’s always easier to drown there.

If he could go back, he knows he wouldn’t be alone in choosing that path. Some days, it feels like the only option.

But there’s no you in his past.

Logan inhales sharply when your tongue teases his slit, lapping at the precum pooling there. You hum at the taste, your hand resting on his bare thigh, fingers pressing into his skin. Your other hand lazily strokes the length of him, working the inches your mouth can’t take.

It’s clear you’re enjoying this. He can tell from the way your lashes flutter each time he thrusts a little deeper into your slick warmth. A win-win situation.

Letting a girl like you do this to him? That’s bad. Very bad. Red flags all around.

He meets you when he least expects it.

It’s a night like any other. He’s been driving for God knows how long. His joints ache from being in the same position for hours, and a part of his left knee he didn’t even know could hurt begins to throb.

It takes everything in him not to call it quits for the night, not to turn around and head home like a coward.

When exactly his life fell into this monotonous cycle, he’s not entirely sure, but it happened somewhere along the way. Now, it’s all the same: taking care of Charles during the day, catching an hour or two of sleep, then gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, driving through endless stretches of road, resisting any attempts at small talk from the passengers he chauffeurs around.

They all try—every single one of them. They think if they can crack his harsh and bitter exterior, he’ll open up, reveal something, anything to make their eyes go wide.

But why? Why do they insist on breaking through his shell? What do they hope to discover?

No one really cares what’s going on in his mind. They just want to feel good about themselves—like they’ve been kind, amiable, empaths intending to fill some empty and obscure corner of their own lives.

Logan refuses to be the person who grants them that satisfaction.

You slip into the backseat of his limo, closing the door with a soft click. The night clings to you, the scent of the bar still lingering on your clothes. The music is loud enough for him to hear from outside, and he sees the people lined up at the door, willing to cause a fight if it means securing a good time.

There's a slight frown tugging at your features, your lips pulled downward, though your voice is still polite when you blurt out your address.

Five minutes into the drive and you haven’t said a word. Internally, he’s savoring the silence, so happy he could jump on one foot.

This kind of peace is rare. He’d grown unaccustomed to it. The tension in his shoulders eases as the city lights blur past.

But, all good things come to an end, because—

“How’s your night going?” you ask, fiddling with the seatbelt to have something between your fingers. Logan glances at you through the mirror, his eyes catching yours just for a moment, long enough to see the faint, apologetic smile you offer him. He allows himself a heartbeat more to take you in before focusing back on the road.

You click your tongue, a soft sound of disapproval ringing in his ears. “Well, thank you.”

He lets out a quiet huff, grinding his teeth together. “I’d prefer if we stayed like we were before,” he mutters, his voice rough and gravelly. His attention flickers between the passing cars and the occasional glimpses of you that startle him every time he searches for the mirror. Cars. You. Cars. You. You. You. “Y’know, not talking.”

“But that’s no fun at all,” you retort, sliding more to your left, nearly positioning yourself in the middle of the backseat. It gives him a better view of you—whether intentional or not, he can’t say.

The lipstick on your lips is still flawless. A sparkly necklace glints just above the neckline of your dress, and matching earrings dangle from your ears. Wrapped in a leather jacket, you look effortlessly alluring.

This entire sequence is enough to confirm that by no means is he going to heaven. Straight to hell, he thinks, allowing his gaze to trace over each detail of your frame. Straight to hell.

You don’t give up. “Your aura is off.”

That prompts a crooked smirk from him, a shake of his head as he mumbles under his breath: “M’sorry, my what’s off?”

“Your aura,” you clarify, motioning toward him with a light jingle from the many bracelets adorning your wrist. “It’s the energy that surrounds you.”

Logan snorts, amused for a brief second. “Well, you weren’t exactly a beacon of life when you got in either.”

You chuckle softly, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window. “I’m much better now.” A pause before you continue, your tone shifting, losing strength. “My date stood me up. Last-minute cancellation.”

It’s not anger, nor is it disappointment, that laces your words. You seem more resigned than anything else. He’d have expected you to sound at least a bit more conflicted.

“I should’ve seen it coming. He’d been asking to move it forward for a while.”

Does he look like the type of driver who doubles as a therapist? He wishes he could understand why you're telling him all this.

“That sucks,” he still responds, because even though he hasn’t gone out with a woman in what feels like centuries, he understands that sensation all too well. “First time meeting him?”

Listen up, everyone—he’s genuinely engaging in conversation with another soul. This doesn’t happen often.

He hears you hum, eyes still trained on the outside world. You sigh, crossing your arms over your torso. “Would you mind rolling your window up? I’m kind of freezing here.”

“I’d mind that very much,” he says, his voice carrying its usual gruff edge. He fights the urge to grin, but then you unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning in closer to him. Your body is wedged between his seat and the passenger’s, and he perceives your stare boring into his side profile. “Put your seatbelt back on.” 

“You’re fucking with me.” Your finger taps his shoulder once, twice. “First, I get all dolled up for an idiot who bails on me, and now you have the nerve to make fun of me? Give me a break.”

Your eyes stay on him, a smile plastered on your face, anticipating any possible answer.

Crack, crack, crack—you intend to break through his shell, watching him from the front row, waiting for the moment it gives way.

Before you can say more, he cuts you off. “Seatbelt.”

It’s a command, an instruction, and you comply without hesitation.

Warmth pools and stirs low in his gut as he notes how quickly you obey him. 

Would you still look at him like that if you knew the blood he’s scrubbed off his hands? The flesh that his claws have shredded? The names of the lives he’s taken?

Would your warm gaze turn cold, filled with dread instead of curiosity?

Maybe this is hell. Are you the Devil in disguise, tempting him to cross a line he won’t be able to come back from?

A few minutes later, he pulls up to your building. A really nice one, he notes. You announce you live on the sixth floor. He doesn’t need to know that, does he? Why would you tell him that? Why give that piece of information to a complete stranger?

You linger in the backseat, as though you’re expecting him to turn and look at you. And he does, though not for the reason you might expect. “You got everything?”

Eager and full of life, you nod, clutching your purse to your chest. You avert your gaze to read his ID tag, the one that contains his personal details. “James?”

“Glad you can read,” he utters, pulling out a small bottle of liquor from under the seat. He drains it all in one go, savoring the fleeting burn as it slides down his throat, which is enough to keep him going. “C’mon, kid. I already charged you.”

“You drink while you drive?”

“Keeps me entertained,” he says dryly. It’s the only thing he knows how to do. Raising the empty bottle in your direction, he arches a brow. “Goodnight, darlin’. Leave me a good review on your way out.”

You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.” 

For a couple of days, you don’t bother him again. Bother—notice the implication of the verb in question.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you after that drive. Each time his phone buzzes, a small, restless part of him hopes it’s you, asking for his services, wanting him to be the one you seek out.

And it happens. The best things seem to occur when the moon hangs high and bright.

You: Hi.

He stares at the message, recognition washing over him. He knows it’s you; he can see the other texts you exchanged that night he took you home.

You: Are you working tonight?

You’ve got to be kidding him.

Logan: Why are you texting me?

He types the words with frustration, his thumb hovering over the screen longer than usual. 

You: Why are you answering me?

Oh, you’re smart. 

Logan: Take my advice. Talk to a guy your own age.

You: Damn. Already jumping to conclusions. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me.

Logan: I’m busy.

You: Well, what time do you get off?

Logan: I work all night.

You: Can’t even make a quick stop? I swear it won’t take you more than twenty minutes.

An impulse to throw his phone out the window surges within him, but he manages to restrain himself.

Then, as if on cue, the device vibrates again—of course, it’s you.

You: The drinks are on me. Let me know if you change your mind.

Do you think he’s going to let you pay for him? Absolutely not. 

What surprises him more than the message is how easily he remembers your address. It appears to be ingrained in his mind.

He cancels his next trip, scheduled for ten minutes from now, his new destination being your building.

Once he pulls up, he does what feels most natural: he honks. Multiple times. Maybe he’s lucky and you’ll tell him to fuck off.

But you don’t. You’re laughing as you make your way over to the limo, sliding into the backseat in the same way you did a week ago. Your plan had succeeded—you had him exactly where you wanted.

Far from hiding it, you make it evident, obvious. Your heartbeat thrums in the air, and Logan can hear it loud and clear, like the bass in one of those funky songs he likes.

There’s no room for mistakes. He won’t deny it. Even if the feeling is mutual, he can’t shake the idea that he’s doing something wrong.

In his eyes, you’re the forbidden fruit—irresistible, the ultimate temptation known to humankind, camouflaged in the fur of a pretty woman.

You, his paradise on earth, could only lead to one thing: a longing for a chance with you, which he should never be granted in the first place.

He’s diving headfirst into disgrace, and the more he realizes it, the worse it feels. If he were to be scolded like a child, maybe he’d feel relieved, but he’s no kid. He’s a grown-ass man who should be able to resist.

Yet, self-restraint is like sand slipping through his fingers—never lasting long enough.

“You came.” Astonishment. Uncertainty. Amusement. Blinking your eyes at him, you sit very upright, and you don't even bother fastening your seatbelt. “Honestly? I thought you were going to block me.”

I can’t, he thinks. I wouldn’t be able to. I’m not that strong.

“What happened this time? Another failed date?” he inquires, still not starting the car. A look of perplexity appears on your features, puzzled about why he’s not moving. “Ain’t you forgetting something?” He tugs on his own seatbelt for emphasis, the fabric snapping back into place against his coat.

Once again, you follow his lead. “I don’t need to get stood up to want to see you,” you say, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance—or so he tells himself. It takes him all his willpower not to collapse right then and there. “Besides, I’m not bad company. I’ve been told I can be pretty funny.” 

“I see…” he trails off, catching your gaze through the rearview mirror, not shocked in the slightest to find you waiting for him to look back. “Where to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you should. You invited me.”

How easy it is to make your chest rumble with laughter, the genuine sound bubbling up, pure and unrestrained. He feels like some amateur comedian who has just realized his real passion is to cause this type of response in others.

Except, it’s not just anyone’s laughter he insists on provoking—it’s yours, and yours alone.

An unsettling sensation envelops him the second you retrieve your hand, not before squeezing his shoulder in a friendly manner. “There’s a bar I go to with my friends sometimes,” you suggest after a beat, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jacket. “We could try that one.”

The moment he steps inside, regret washes over him. Why is everyone here under forty? He feels ancient, like fucking Fred Flintstone.

A fossil out of place, meant to dwell in the shadows, not in a scene like this.

When he freezes in the middle of the bar, your fingers intertwine with his, tugging him along, and he follows after you like a lost puppy. The only thing he’s missing is the leash.

You’re met with his quirked eyebrows as you peer into his eyes over your shoulder, a toothy grin threatening to shake the floor beneath his feet. “You know, people usually sit down before they start getting shit-faced.”

“I’m not getting drunk tonight.” Logan exhales a deep breath, trying to hide his discomfort, his eyes scanning the room. “And neither are you,” he practically yells in your ear trying to make himself heard above the pounding music and incessant chatter. He wonders if you even hear him at all.

The two of you eventually settle at the counter, drinking in silence. Logan half-expects one of your comments to pierce through the quiet, but you delight in proving him wrong.

Instead, your head sways gently to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, and you take a trial sip of your beer.

He’s acutely aware of the stares from the rest of the patrons. He can pretend to be oblivious, but the weight of several pairs of eyes burning holes into the back of his neck doesn’t go unnoticed.

Being watched has never been his favorite pastime, and somehow, it feels even more uncomfortable with you by his side.

He knows what those looks imply, can nearly taste the hidden implications behind each fleeting glance.

What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him? A question that makes no sense.

Does he have money? A well-endowed reputation? Did he recently inherit any properties?

Are you truly that desperate for human contact?

Is your bed so cold that you decide to go for the first guy who can string ten words together?

Logan doubts whether this whole experiment is part of the community service you must be doing. Maybe he should look up your name online to see if any criminal records come to the surface.

Now that he takes a moment to ponder it, you certainly fit the mold of the criminal type. The kind who gets what she wants when she wants it, leaving a trail of intrigue on her wake.

His fingers circle the glass so tightly he fears it might shatter into a million shards. You notice his tension, nudging his arm with yours, aiming to meet his eyes.

When you do (because, as he said, criminals have their own ways), you smile, and he internalizes that gesture as something familiar, something he feels he’s grown used to. Something rankled in his memory.

It’s as if he’s known you for a lifetime.

“Thank you for coming,” you say softly, and he may be going down the path of hallucinations,  but your attention remains a little too long on his lips. Then, just as quickly, it flickers back to the rest of his face, and you lean back to drink from your beer once more.

Straight to hell, he thinks, tasting the remnants of whiskey on his tongue, for ever daring to believe himself worthy of even a moment of your precious time.

You’re probably the first person to have his full, undivided attention. And that’s… well, that’s saying something.

Most days, you’re pretty talkative, a steady stream of conversation, your words pouring out in an endless flow.

You tell him about your family, your career, that pet of yours that died when you were six years old. You mention a friend you no longer speak to, and the events that led to the downfall of your friendship.

There’s also that dish from your all-time favorite restaurant, the one you buy at least once a week because it never fails to comfort you.

Nonstop, you talk and talk, and Logan doesn’t mind one bit. Soon, he finds himself becoming an active listener—asking follow-up questions, chuckling at your jokes, even when they’re not funny at all.

He sincerely cares about what you have to say.

This whole situation with you is beyond his comprehension. Before he realizes it, you start wanting to spend more time with him.

Sometimes, you ride along in the passenger seat while he drives aimlessly through the city.

Sometimes, you invite him over, cook a meal, and he always takes the leftovers with him, as if a part of you goes with him when he leaves.

Sometimes, you come over to his place, and the roles reverse—you’re the one with the mic, asking the questions, fully aware that you’re treading on holy ground. 

Logan’s got a sign on his forehead that reads ‘Stop: do not enter.’ It’s rough around the edges, hardened by the years, all capital letters in stark blank ink. But in the end, you just take the sign and set it aside.

He never goes into too much detail. Not because he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that there’s too much to unpack, and you don’t need to know all of it. You’ll be better off not carrying the garbage he does.

Yet, you’ve got him by the throat, encouraging him to cough up disjoined pieces of his life, bits of his day, his thoughts, his feelings. It sounds stupid to him, but you make him feel alive. 

You never judge him, never flinch when he brings up stories from his past. As he sits at your table one afternoon, you look at his hands, his claws fully extended, and you don’t shy away. You rub the pad of your thumb across the rough skin of his knuckles, right where the adamantium tears through his flesh.

You don’t care that he’s a mutant, that he’s killed people. You don’t try to deny who he is or what he’s done. Oddly enough, you just wish to be by his side, staring off into the void with him. 

“But why?” he asks, partly flattered, partly frustrated. This could be compared to learning a new sport from scratch—he can’t figure you out, can’t understand why you haven’t run the other way yet.

He likes your company, though he’s always bracing himself for the inevitable day you find a better hobby and leave.

Your reasoning defies logic, and he’s afraid that at any moment, you’ll grasp the gravity of your choices.

Almost as if you could feel the turmoil brewing in his mind, you simply say: “You’re nice to be around.”

Nice. Nice. Nice. He’d cackle if he were alone. That word reverberates through him. When was the last time someone called him nice?

Bad-tempered, sure.

A pain in the ass? Definitely.

But nice? Not a term people employed to describe him.

It’s a quality reserved for you, with your endless charisma and kind heart, but not for a man of his kind.

He’s nothing more than a chauffeur, a driver, someone who does and says what’s necessary to survive. Does that make him nice? 

When he tells you he’s probably going to hell, you don’t try to make him feel better. Anyone else in your position might try to soothe him, to offer some hollow reassurance.

Your intention isn’t to change him, for him to pretend to be something he’s not. “Then I’ll meet you there,” you mutter, your shiny eyes searing into his. Under the table, your hand finds his, tender fingers grazing over his knuckles, and for once, he doesn’t pull away.

Could it be that an afterlife catching fire doesn’t sound so bad after all?

As much as he likes to admit how easily you can shift his mood, today is not one of those days.

He’s had a nightmare—nothing new, but this one had been… different. The empty bottle on the nightstand hadn’t been of any help; it never does when they visit him in his sleep.

The ghosts of those who used to be his friends, his family, tiptoe around his dreams in the form of shadows.

Blood. Screams. Shouts of his name. He can’t save them all. Walking through the wreckage, he dodges the bodies of those he couldn’t protect, the knot in his throat tightening with every step, not allowing him to breathe.

Wherever he turns, there’s death, destruction. Sadness. Did he save them all?

It’s always the same routine. He wakes up, screaming, chest aching from the effort. His lungs burn, and he has to remind himself that the limbs attached to him are his own and not the remnants of an immobile corpse.

Sweat clings to his skin, pooling at his temples and nape. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, rubbing at the soreness in his neck.

His phone rings somewhere in the distance, pulling him from his dizzy state. He scrambles to his feet, accepting the call just before it hits voicemail.

It's you. Despite it being late, he swears he feels the gentle kiss of the sun over his brow. Your sweet voice chases away the lingering shadows of his dreams, replacing the bitter taste in his mouth with something real—a reason to get up, to start moving.

He holds onto every second of the brief call, replaying those thirty seconds in his head as he steps into the shower. When the cold water shocks his system, it pulls him fully back to consciousness. He has to get ready.

Even though you insist on getting a taxi, he refuses. He doesn’t mind the drive. His gas tank does, his wallet maybe, but Logan? He just doesn’t.

At the end of the day, he’s protective by nature, and who knows what kind of men are roaming the streets at night?

God forbid they’re anything like him—eager to prompt a smile from you, trying too hard to impress you. He arrives at the conclusion that he’d rather lose fuel and money if it means orbiting around you for longer.

You make him feel better, and tonight, he needs it more than ever. He needs you.

(Now he’s driving. He honks five times when he pulls up to your building. You get on the limo, giggling as you say: “My neighbors must hate you.” He grins. You kiss him on the cheek. Subtle. Not the first time. Still, it doesn’t get old. He feels the faint residue of lip gloss on his skin. He doesn’t wipe it off.)

Not in the mood to cook, you declare as you step into his place. The mouth-watering aroma of the Chinese food you bought fills the air, but when he reaches for the bags, you insist that he sit and relax.

Sure, he can take a seat. But to expect him to relax with you around, playing this intricate game? That’s simply impossible. You’re asking for too much. He’s a player at heart, drawn to the thrill of the chase, and he will play along.

What seems inconceivable is the expectation that he can act as if nothing is happening between these four walls.

His attempts to focus on you are futile, as his mind betrays him tonight. All he hears spilling from your lips is pure and plain gibberish. Your very presence is no longer enough to anchor him.

Already immune to your charm, Logan eats his noodles, occasionally nodding when your voice rises at the end of a sentence, indicating a question.

But he nearly chokes on his drink the moment he registers your serious expression, having never witnessed you like this before.

“Are you even here?” you ask, shoving your food aside with a swift motion of your wrist.

What should he answer? What is it that you want to hear? Of course! I’m here, listening to you. It’s a delightful night. Should I start by telling you about my most recent nightmare? Quite the entertainment!

There’s a shake of his head as he lowers his gaze, escaping your concerned expression. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.” You tug your chair forward, claiming a piece of his personal space. You know he doesn’t mind. “Want to talk about it? Did something happen?”

“My brain is just… off today.”

“Many thoughts at the same time.” Not a question. Have you completely figured him out?

“Yeah.”

He remains still, dragging his plastic fork across the now-cold steamed veggies, which have lost their appeal.

How amusing—your knees bump against his, drawing his attention. “Can I help you?” It’s new, the breathy tone you’re using, a whisper of agitation weaving through your calm demeanor. 

“Can you erase my memory?” he shoots back, attempting to smirk through the wave of memories that flash behind his eyelids. When he looks into your eyes, the siren in his head blares.

Your pupils are dilated, blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweaty palms that you wipe on your jeans. Tongue darting out to lick your lips. Your heartbeat accelerates, drumming wildly like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.

He hasn’t been with a woman in ages, but he knows how they react when they see something they like—or, in this case, someone.

“Logan.” His name rolls off your tongue once more, tinged with an unmistakable need. The thought of checking his temperature dances through his mind, but the heaviness in his limbs roots him in place. He feels feverish. “I want to help you.”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no—

“What—what are you on, sweetheart?” Get up. Find your keys. Drive her home. “You don’t even know what you’re sayin’.”

Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his head. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?”

He’s no longer in control of his actions. His right hand crawls up your knee, palming the fabric of your pants. It’s numbing: a lapful of you, your rich smell, your quickened pulse.

Tempting. So fucking tempted to take you right now, just like this, without the need for words. Your bodies can communicate in a language of their own, one that transcends spoken phrases. 

I want you, he lets you know through the way he gropes your breasts over your shirt, squeezing them together. He’s always been good with his hands. But what the hell am I supposed to do with a sweet thing like you?

His patience teeters on the edge of a precipice. “Tell me what you want.”

“I asked you first.”

“You’re gonna pretend you don’t know the answer?” He thrusts into the air, grinding against your clothed core, and you close your eyes. He’s rock hard beneath you, the bulge in his jeans shockingly obscene, bordering on grotesque. “We both know what I want, but I’m no telepath, baby. Need you to speak up.”

Twisting the locks of hair at his nape, you press your lips to his neck. “I want to make you forget, to focus on this moment. I want you to live in the present, Logan.” A bite on his earlobe sends shivers down his spine, and he grips your hips with a primal growl. “I can do whatever you want. Just tell me. Tell me, and I’ll do it, please.”

Please? He’s spiraling. Please? That’s it—he’s doing it. He’ll grant you your plea, which aligns perfectly with his own desires.

Once his back meets the mattress in his room, you get to work. With delicate precision, you pull down his pants, sliding his boxers off until only his thick thighs and the crown of short curls adorning his cock remain in sight. Your fingers tremble slightly before you wrap them loosely around his length, and it springs to life in your grasp.

Your gaze pierces into his, mirroring the intensity of his own. But something holds you back, prompting you to reach for his hand.

At that moment, it all clicks into place. Logan urges your head down onto him, and he’s welcomed by the slick warmth you provide.

Indeed, he’s very much alive.

“That’s it. That’s—fuck. There you go.” 

His fingers dig into the mattress, clutching the cotton sheets, stopping himself from thrusting into your mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—God, he does—but tonight, he’s on his best behavior.

He wipes the trail of drool from your chin, smearing it gently across your cheek, his thumb lingering as he watches your nostrils flare with a strained, muffled gasp.

Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he tastes the wetness on it the same way you’re sucking him: greedily, without any trace of mercy.

This proves I’m going to hell, he thinks, enraptured by the sight of his cock disappearing between your parted lips. Straight to hell.

You draw him back to the present, nuzzling your face against his thigh, your humid breath teasing his thick shaft, pulling him from a deep reverie. Your glossy eyes roam, exploring until they find his, and you gift him an authentic smile. Wrecked and blissed out, it’s as if the lights are on, but no one’s truly home.

He would’ve never guessed how much you reveled in sucking cock, radiating enthusiasm with each of your movements.

“Am I doing it okay?” you wonder aloud, hovering over the tip, swirling your tongue around the velvety head. He’s no fool, and neither are you; deep down, you know you’re doing more than just okay. Actually, you’re giving him the best blowjob of his long, long life.

Each panting, airy praise he huffs fuels your eagerness, making you even more receptive to his desires as the words slip past his lips.

“Fuckin’ amazing, honey. Got me so hard, y’see?” His tone is heavily charged with carnality, gripping himself and smacking the tip against your mouth, the wet sound echoing like music to his ears.

He pulses against your tongue, and you seize the opportunity to trace the thin veins scattered along his length. Gulping, with his gaze fixed on you, Logan notices how you’re still wearing your clothes, wiggling your hips against the mattress, rubbing your thighs together to get something in return. “Are you wet?”

Humming against him, you suck in shaky breath. 

“Words.”

“I’m—I’m wet,” you rasp, voice hoarse. You try to guide him into your mouth and fail miserably, because his grip only tightens, stroking himself instead. “Logan,” you keen, stretching your neck in a silent plea, “don’t be mean.”

“Not mean. Just enjoyin’ myself,” he replies, pulling the foreskin back to expose the head, arching his eyebrows. His fingers curl around your chin, drawing your face nearer to his girth, fascinated by how your eyes flutter shut the more you surrender to the pleasure. “C’mon. Be polite.”

Blame him for it—he believes he’ll never get tired of this game.

“Please.” You whisper, returning to your begging while tenderly rolling his balls, staring at him through your lashes. And then you say it again: “Please.”

Your gaze burns a hole through his crumpled heart. He lets you have it, eager to give whatever you may ask him for. You dive back into it, engulfing his length and bobbing your head up and down with fervor. Hushed whines escape your lips, savoring another bead of his precum.

Logan almost loses it as you hollow your cheeks, instinctively cradling the back of your head. “Easy, baby. M’not going anywhere. Take your time.”

Whenever he feels himself approaching that long-awaited release, he forces his mind to conjure thoughts that will stall his impending orgasm.

The water stains from flooding on the walls.

The supermarket list.

The rising price of gas.

The—

“Fuck. Slow down,” he groans, utterly captivated by the way you point your tongue to draw imaginary patterns along his cock, seemingly memorizing every detail. “Don’t go too hard on me, remember?”

You mumble something under your breath, and at first, he can’t quite make it out. “What is it?”

“I said I want you to fuck me.”

Under no circumstances is he surviving this night.

“Really, doll?” Logan seeks the reassurance he desperately needs, fearing that this is all a dream from which he’ll awaken the moment he properly touches you. “You sure you want this old man to fuck you?”

You’re a rambling mess, murmuring Yes, Logan, please, until he maneuvers you to lie on his chest, his glistening cock sliding against your clothes, leaving a trail of dark spots. A whimper dies on your tongue as you brush your lips together, your hot breath enveloping him. “Give me a kiss at least.”

Tilting your head up, he connects his mouth to yours, growling as he detects the dull, sour tang of what must be him. He sucks your bottom lip, hardly aware of what his hands are doing until he shifts your positions, pinning you down.

Logan tugs at your clothes, peeling them away with urgency, his fingers dancing over your nipples until you’re grinding against his thigh, quivering beneath him. With a nip at your damp skin, his eyes flutter open as he studies your expression, casting you a glance that seeks your permission.

A ripple of desire courses through him when you dutifully turn over beneath him, pressing your face further into the pillow. He runs his knuckles along the curve of your ass, his throat going dry as you follow after his touch, arching your body in response.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he licks a long, slow stripe up your wet folds, keeping his tongue flat against your clit for a brief moment. Your arms give out and you stumble forward, stuttering as you mewl his name, fully consumed by the feeling.

So he does it again, and again, and again, flicking the sensitive bud, even though you’re already beyond soaked. It’s a pleasure he indulges in simply because he can.

Straight to hell, he thinks, coating his length with your arousal, teasing your entrance while pushing in only the tip. That motion alone is enough to make him draw a trembling breath before he continues, gradually feeding you his cock, inch by inch.

Straight to hell, the voice in his head utters as he buries himself to the hilt deep within your body, his heavy balls resting against your ass.

Like an intruder in your territory, he’s free to do as he pleases, and you let him have his way with you.

If only this moment could stretch into infinity—he longs for time to relent and never draw to a close. 

What will happen after? Will you spend the night? Does he—

“L-Logan,” you mumble, having adjusted to his size. You rock back into him, impaling yourself even more on his cock. “Please, move.”

The pace he establishes is brutal. Your warm, inner walls exquisitely massage him, and the earth as he knows it stops spinning. Fire pools low in his abdomen, his hands holding you by the flesh of your hips to keep you anchored, each thrust driving you closer to the headboard with an intoxicating urgency. 

“You wanted it from the very start, didn’t you?” He doesn’t know if a response will ever come, but these kinds of thoughts are impossible to contain. He’s just a simple man, powerless against the allure of a tight cunt. “Just got in my car and knew it would end like this?”

You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.” 

His next thrust punches a whine out of your lungs. Even as you clench around him, stuffed and filled to the brim, you beg for him to fuck you harder. He would’ve laughed at you were he able to catch his breath.

With a more deliberate rhythm, he rolls his hips, jackhammering your most sensitive spot, pulling you closer as he wraps an arm around you. When his fingers find your clit, drawing slippery circles, a cry escapes you, and your body merges with the mattress under you.

Your release takes him by surprise, urging him to continue as you reach back, encouraging him to chase his own climax. He knows all too well the struggle of bringing you to this point without succumbing to his pleasure too soon. Your nails graze along his thigh, leaving delicate marks in their wake, and somehow, the passion and bliss he’s been nurturing ignites into a fiery crescendo.

Shortly after, he goes completely rigid inside you, pressing his forehead against your back as he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans. His hand squeezes your breast tightly, riding out his high, blood buzzing in his ears, continuing to spill into you. You spam around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed, his release painting your insides with his warmth.

Logan tucks you under his chin as his vision returns to clarity. You nose his jaw, your fingers softly tracing the contours of his beard. He pulls you closer into his chest, gliding his hands up and down your back.

Half a minute of dreadful silence, then: “Can I stay?”

Oh, yes—pillow talk. He’s not great at this either. Despite that, his eyes soften, snapping to your face.

Logan pauses for a moment. “Sure,” he retorts, dragging his fingers along your shoulder blades. He’s a one-word kind of guy. Just perfect.

Tell her you like her. Tell her you don’t want this to be a casual fling. Tell her it’s more than just sex for you.

Or maybe don’t. Get ahold of yourself, will you?

“Logan?” you ask, resting your palm against his heart.

“What is it?”

“I know.”

You do?

Try as he might, he can’t deny it. He might care about you more than he ever realized.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[aureatelys]

red light kiss

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader rating: explicit w.c. : 4k a/n: the vest stays on

c.w.: 18+ MDNI PLSSSS, porn no plot, blowjobs in car!!!, newly established relationship, d/s undertones, some dirty talk and degradation, one hint of sir kink, reader has hair?, no y/n, size kink if you squint

summary:

You haven't had sex in a week, you're stuck in the car with your new boyfriend/boss, and he's wearing that damn Kevlar vest. How could you resist?

read below or on ao3 here <3

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You watch with dread as the train inches to a stop several feet in front of you. It was already going horribly slow for the past 15 minutes, taking so long that Hotch even took his foot off the brake and put the car in park. There’s been a line of cars piling behind you, a median on your left, and a field that goes nowhere on your right, so it’s not like you could escape even if you wanted to.

The team was currently in a small college town in Texas investigating a string of murders happening on campus, leaving the entire population of less than 5,000 on edge. You and Hotch were on the way to question a professor that lived only a couple blocks away from the campus with an old rap sheet a mile long. You honestly hoped that he would be good for it so you guys could go the fuck home.

“Relax,” Hotch murmured, putting a comforting hand on your knee while he called the rest of the team at the station to let them know you two were going to be stuck for a while and to have another pair go out to the professor’s house.

You understand that Hotch was trying to help put you at ease since you’ve been cranky all day. Scratch that, you’ve been cranky the past 3 days. It’s not your fault that the BAU was called on your Saturday off, especially when you planned to spend that day off in bed with your boss.

It had taken a while for you and Hotch to get your act together after gradually crossing that professional boundary. The past 6 months consisted of late-night dinners in Hotch’s office, going to the park with him and Jack on the weekends, and mind-blowing orgasms on possibly every surface in Hotch’s apartment.

You’re not sure when the lines had started blurring for you. Maybe that one day you came into Hotch’s office for dinner after a particularly brutal case and ordered from your favorite Thai restaurant despite everything on their menu being too spicy for him. Or maybe it was when you saw the wide smile adorning his face when Jack scored the winning goal at a soccer game, making him look younger. Or maybe it was when he told you you looked beautiful while you were riding his cock in the darkness of his bedroom, his hands pressing bruises into your hips, and the moonlight strewing in from the curtains illuminating the awe in his eyes.

Only several weeks ago did Hotch properly ask you out to dinner and it’s like everything changed. Suddenly, the glances across the bullpen meant something different, something sweeter. Now, you can be affectionate without fearing Hotch wouldn’t reciprocate. Now, he’s touchier— touching the small of your back when he walks by, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear when you’re having dinner in his office, or pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before you fall asleep on his chest.

It's new and you’re still adjusting. However, it definitely hasn’t stopped the sex.

So, your Saturday plans with Hotch got ruined, that’s fine. It wasn’t like the team had just gotten back from a week-long case and you had barely tumbled into bed with Hotch when his phone rang. And you haven’t even had the chance for a quickie in the hotel, both of you too tired and passing out before even thinking of sneaking in each other’s rooms.

You’re cranky because you haven’t gotten laid in almost a week and you work with possibly the hottest man alive and today, he’s wearing one of your top 3 hottest outfits he’s ever worn.

Your third favorite outfit is his green button-up with the sleeves rolled up, often paired with black jeans. The first time you saw him pull that out for date night, hair perfectly gelled down and sleeves rolled up his wide forearms, you had missed your dinner reservations because you were too busy on your knees in the middle of the doorway. He just looked so good wearing dark green— the way it complemented his complexion, and even better when he wore those tight jeans that made your eyes bug out of your head.

Your second favorite outfit was more intimate—a faded GWU shirt that was starting to stretch over Hotch’s shoulders and gray sweatpants that definitely left little to the imagination. At times, this combination felt straight up pornographic, especially if Hotch was relaxing on the couch, legs spread with his arms stretched behind his head. It felt like a siren call, and you fell for it every single time.

But Hotch right now, not only wearing a plain black tee that stretched over his chest, but also his Kevlar vest, was your most favorite outfit of them all.

You didn’t know why it was your favorite. You see Hotch wearing his Kevlar vest almost twice a week, usually over a white dress shirt, and it doesn’t distract you as much as this specific combination does.

Maybe it’s because you’ve always been a sucker for Hotch’s arms, as you stare at the way he has them stretched out lazily with his wrists resting on the steering wheel, muscles bulging. Or maybe it’s the way the vest hugs him so tightly it makes him look even broader, makes him stand up straighter and appear more confident. Or maybe it’s because Hotch inevitably starts sweating not even 10 minutes after the vest is on due to the constricting material, making his chest heave and sweat form at his forehead. You wear your vest just as often as he does, and you know for a fact that you don’t look as insanely sexy he does.

“Are you okay?”

You blink, brain brought back to reality, feeling a rising heat to your face and down to your stomach. You bring your gaze up from where you were ogling his jean-clad thighs to Hotch staring down at you in amusement. “Yep, why wouldn’t I be? We’ve just been stuck behind this train for hours.”

Hotch cracks a smile at that. It makes your chest tighten. “It hasn’t even been 30 minutes, don’t be so dramatic.”

You lean over to swat at his arm playfully and definitely not an attempt to quickly cop a feel. “How dare you! I’m never dramatic.”

Hotch huffs a laugh at that, used to your antics by now. “Morgan and Reid are already on their way to the Thompson house so we may as well relax.”

Someone several cars down honks, causing Hotch to twist his upper body as best as he could in the vest to look back incredulously, as if they could see him through the tinted windows. You’re suddenly enraptured by the sharp cut of his jaw and the line of his throat. “People here have no patience,” he remarks.

An idea slowly forms in your mind. Not only is it in the middle of the night, but the county-issued SUV that you were in had tinted windows the same strength as the ones back home. No one at the police station was expecting you since they knew you were trapped behind the train and it’s not like you brought any files or your laptop to continue bouncing around ideas about the case.

You watch thoughtfully as Hotch shifts in his seat, adjusting the vest to sit a bit more comfortably. How could you resist?

“I have an idea,” you say, feigning nonchalance.

Hotch’s eyes flit to you, eyes narrowing because, like you said, he knows you by now. “And what idea is that?”

“I can suck you off?”

You watch in delight as Hotch’s eyebrows raise, a flush rising up his neck. He clears his throat, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel, before saying almost breathlessly “And what makes you think I’ll let you?”

You know you’ve already gotten him, that he’s already going to let you go down on him. He wouldn’t be shifting in his seat if he wasn’t. Any other day, he would’ve turned you down instantly, a reprimand telling you to at least pretend to be professional at the tip of his tongue. If you’re sexually frustrated, he must be at least ten times hornier since his libido has always been worse than yours.

“Well, our weekend plans got ruined and this is the first time we’ve been alone in over a week,” you sigh, leaning over the console as gracefully as you could with the vest weighing you down to put your hand on his, running your fingertips up his forearms. “And I miss you.”

A smile quirks at the corner of Hotch’s mouth. “We work together.”

You roll your eyes, letting your fingers trace the veins decorating his arms. God, he’s so hot. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Hotch says, softly, watching you with a gaze so fond that it makes you want to cry. “That doesn’t mean you need to suck my cock while we’re on the job.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. Hotch is only vulgar like that in the privacy of the bedroom, knowing how much it gets you off when he’s muttering in your ear about how good you take his cock. The contrast of his soft gaze and lewd words has you shifting in your seat now, thighs rubbing together at the sudden onslaught of heat between them. You’re really about to do this.

“You just look really good in that vest,” you whisper, feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

Hotch hums, leaning back in the seat and moving his hips down. His right arm comes up to stretch out and rest his hand behind your headrest, watching you with dark eyes, almost beckoning you. “So that’s what’s got you all hot and bothered.”

“Yes,” you exhale, already feeling that familiar glaze over your brain. You glance down curiously at his lap and your mouth waters when you see the outline of his half-hard dick through his jeans, undoubtedly uncomfortable because all of his jeans are unfairly tight. “Can I?”

“Come here first.” His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, an action that’s lately been making you weak in the knees. He’s been clingier lately, pressing his lips to any part of you he can take, and you know what he’s asking for, his neck craned and his eyes zeroing in on your mouth.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and nearly bang your knee against the console when you lean over more to kiss him, something tender and gentle despite the way you desperately want to clamber over to sit on his lap. He tastes like cheap coffee and something inexplicably Aaron, warm and soothing, that makes you part your lips to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so soft, yet he kisses you in a way that’s all consuming, heady. His hold on your jaw tightens before sliding down your neck, and the way it would be so easy for him to take a hold of you there makes you dizzy.

When you pull away, he’s watching you with that fond look that’s been making more of an appearance recently. “Now can I?”

There’s that smile with your favorite dimple again, barely detectable even from the dashboard lights and the flashing railroad stop signs. “Yes,” Aaron says, exasperatedly.

You situate yourself with your knees on your seat, your own vest digging into your chest when you lean down lower, so your face is nearly in his lap. He doesn’t even need to move his seat back, his long legs already making him sit ridiculously far from the wheel, leaving you with enough breathing room.

You press your palm against his cock over his jeans and you preen a little when you feel a click in his throat before he clears it. He unbuckles his seatbelt and scoots down in his seat a bit more, causing him to push his hips up against your hand. You try to wrap your fingers around him, marveling at the heat seeping through the fabric. He’s fully hard despite not having done anything except talk and kiss, signifying to you that he may just be as desperate as you are.

“You have to be quick,” Aaron mutters through gritted teeth. You can almost imagine his eyes flitting back and forth out the window, anticipating when the train was going to start moving again.

“Don’t rush me,” you say and get the reaction you’re hoping for when you feel Aaron’s large hand on the top of your head, pushing your face down into his lap until your mouth is inches away from the outline of his cock.

“You have such a mouth on you,” Aaron sighs, feigning the type of nonchalance that makes your cheeks heat. “Maybe you should put it to good use.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hands swiftly unbutton his jeans and pull the zipper down, your mouth already watering. He helps you by lifting his hips up again and wiggling his jeans and briefs down until they’re mid-thigh, and then his hard cock is out, a pretty red with precum glistening at the tip. The way it looks against his vest, soft flesh contrasting against the rough material, has you licking your lips.

This has to be the best idea you’ve ever had.

Since Aaron was right about you possibly not having a lot of time, you forgo your usual teasing kitten licks for a broad stripe up his length and watch intently at the way the head of his cock brushes against his vest. Aaron jumps at the rough feeling against the sensitive head but lets out a low groan all the same. Something akin to glee fills you when you notice the wet patch his cock leaves on the blue fabric.

Aaron must notice because his hand is back on your head, putting pressure in a way that was hard to ignore. “You’re so filthy, practically begging me with those pretty eyes of yours to have my cock down your throat.”

You don’t answer, you know he’s not expecting one anyway. Instead, you grab his cock at the base, silently marveling at just how big he is in your hand, and lick another path up his cock before taking him fully in your mouth.

You always love sucking Aaron off— the weight of him on your tongue, the clean and musky taste of him, and the way he fills out your mouth and just feels so good in your hands. The best part is clearly the way he responds.

He groans deeply, a sound coming straight from within his chest, and you hear the thud from him throwing his head back against the headrest. You rest your free hand on his muscular thigh, marveling at the obvious way he’s attempting to hold himself back from immediately fucking into your mouth. He gives you a minute since it’s been a while, although you can feel the way his hand on your head clenches into a fist, patience already wearing thin.

You swirl your tongue around his head before taking more of him into your mouth, letting spit run down his length so you can stroke whatever you can’t fit in your mouth. You wish you had gotten a better look at his cock before doing this to marvel at the bulging veins, similar to his arms. Instead, you trace the vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue before coming back up to press against the head and coming up to flick your tongue against his leaking slit.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good, sweetheart.”

God, you wish you were able to see his face, the way he would be watching you with half-lidded eyes like he couldn’t decide whether to close them in pleasure or watch your lips stretch around him. He’d be biting at his lip, attempting to suppress his sounds because he’s still self-conscious about having his dick out in a government vehicle. He would have a crease between his brows, still trying to give you time to adjust and not giving in, and the flush on his neck would slowly rise up to his face.

But with the way you’re leaning with the console digging into you, your ass basically in the air, you can’t. As if Aaron read your mind, his right hand runs down your spine, leaving a hot trail in his wake, and down until he’s grabbing a handful of your ass. It’s so close to the aching heat of your pussy and your head spins when you start to wonder if he’s going to finger you like this or leave you wanting with wetness seeping through your pants.

The feeling of his hand on you and the way he inadvertently pushes you causes your mouth to slide another inch down his cock until your lips touch your fist. You moan, tightening your grip on his impossibly hard flesh, causing Aaron to let out another deep moan.

There’s another honk from behind the car and you suddenly remember that Aaron was right and you really don’t have a lot of time to waste.

So, you take a deep breath through your nostrils before you slide down until you could take as much of him as you could, spit starting to run out of the corners of your mouth, until he was hitting the back of your throat.

Aaron lets out a strangled sound, hips thrusting of his own accord. Luckily you were expecting it and you make sure to relax your jaw just a little bit more, slide down more until you move your hand away to settle on his thigh and your nose is pressed against neat curls. You focus on your heartbeat pounding in your ears and the feeling of his cock prodding at the back of your throat when you hold for two seconds and not the automatic way you want to gag before coming up to gasp in a breath. You barely hear the whisper of your name from Aaron’s lips before you’re taking him in his mouth again, easily due to how slick he is from your spit, until you’re deepthroating him.

“You always take my cock so well,” Aaron chokes out, his hands frantically coming to gather your hair in one hand before he barely pushes your head down and then back up. The hold he has on you isn’t rough, which you’re grateful for, but he still tugs you off his cock with a force that makes you dizzy. He makes you crane your neck at him, uncomfortably, but it’s worth it when you see the glazed look in his dark eyes and his parted lips as he pants in the air. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You know you’re panting just as hard, tears already starting to prickle at the corner of your eyes, and your mouth swollen. You know Aaron loves you like this, open-mouthed and silently begging. So, you can’t help yourself when you lick your lips, relishing in the way Aaron’s hungry gaze follows the movement, and say in a raspy voice “Yes, sir.”

You never would’ve guessed Aaron liked being called sir in the bedroom, though you secretly hoped, but you didn’t realize the full extent of it until you called him sir as a joke in his office and noticed the way his back stiffened and his breath stuttered. After that, you always got a kick out of teasing him, just to see what he had in store for you when you got home.

You know exactly what he has in store for you now, in fact you had planned it. Your skin prickles as Aaron’s eyes narrow and the line of his mouth flattens. His chest is heaving as he tries to catch his breath and you watch the way the vest moves with him, shirt underneath stretching across him. He doesn’t say anything as he pushes you down, gentle enough so you know you could always back out if you wanted to.

You ignore the sore twinge in your neck as you wrap your lips around him again, closing your eyes to focus on covering your teeth, leaving one hand on his thigh in case you need to tap out and the other bent at the elbow to lean on the plush upholstery. You hear Aaron sigh blissfully when his cock slides back into your mouth, a hand gathering your hair again in a vice like grip, like he’s been thinking about this all week.

The way Aaron starts to fuck your mouth, you think you may be right. The thought of holding back seems to have been thrown out the window based on the noises he makes; guttural and heavy groans and whispered praises. Seeing his hips come off from the seat and into the warm wetness of your mouth and the easy glide of his cock between your lips is intoxicating, especially when added with the fact that you’re letting him.

The ache between your legs is almost overwhelming, pulsing with every thrust of Aaron’s hips against your face, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your panties were absolutely ruined by now from your arousal.

The sound of him fucking your mouth is obscene, lewd as the car is filled with the sounds of him hitting the back of your throat and his breathless pants. You let him take over and you watch with tears brimming at your eyes as his hips barely need to lift off the seat since he’s focusing all of his attention pulling you on and off his cock by your hair. The feeling of his cock thrusting in your mouth, of him using you to get himself off quickly is heady and so fucking hot.

You know he’s close when he starts to speed up, hips bucking into your open mouth frantically. You feel him start to pull you off of him in a silent question of where do you want me and the thought of him coming down your throat, hot and desperate, has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. The next time he thrusts into your mouth, you hold him there, the spot in the back of your throat deliciously raw.

“Jesus Christ,” you hear Aaron mutter through the blood rushing in your ears. “You want me to come in your mouth, sweetheart? So no one knows you were letting me fuck your mouth?”

You whimper, a muffled sound from your lips stretched around his cock, causing Aaron’s hips to stutter again. You pull off of him but you don’t move far, instead just barely hovering over the head, panting with your mouth open and tongue out, the message clear as day. You watch as Aaron’s free hand comes down to quickly jerk himself off.  

“Fuck, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Everyone knowing how good you are for me?”

God, you really wish you could see his face, but to make up for it, you move to press your tongue against him as best as you could while his hand is a blur on his cock. You’re barely able to tongue the slit, the salty taste of his precum cutting through, when you hear the roaring of an engine and a train horn.

You realize the train’s finally moving, which means now you’re really running out of time.

You squeeze his thigh, not trusting your ability to speak, and Aaron wordlessly brings you down so you could further wrap your lips around the head of his cock, flicking your tongue against him, his hand continuing to bring himself off. The way his large hand envelops his thick cock, slick from your spit and squelching lewdly, has you pressing your thighs together in an effort to press the inseam of your pants against your clit, because the blur of his hand and his rhythmic grunts were so filthy.  

It didn’t take long for Aaron’s raspy exhales to turn into a stuttered groan, his muscled thigh underneath your hand tensing, and his hips to snap up once, twice, before his come is shooting into your mouth in hot spurts. The bitter taste coats your tongue, your throat, and you swallow before you can think of it. You hollow your cheeks, taking more of him in your mouth and press your tongue against the slit to gather whatever is left despite the hiss you faintly hear, Aaron undoubtedly sensitive.

You lift up off him, using his leg as leverage, and ignore the soreness in your abdomen from the console pressing against your vest while you sucked your boss’s cock in a government issued vehicle. The ache between your thighs is nearly overwhelming, your panties melding against your pussy from how wet you were, and you secretly wished Aaron used his thick fingers to give you some relief while you went down on him.

The train just barely passes by you before the red lights stop flashing and the barriers come up, causing Aaron to hurriedly tuck himself back in his jeans and put the car back in drive. You’re just barely buckling your seatbelt in before you’re speeding off, the glaring lights from the cars behind you now a distant memory.

“You okay?” you ask after you’ve been driving in silence for nearly 5 minutes. You glance over at Aaron to see him almost done catching his breath, however his chest is still rising and falling deliciously so, especially still in that fucking vest. His jeans are still undone and you bite your lip when you notice a dried spot near the zipper where some of him must have escaped from the corner of your mouth. Oops.

Aaron shakes his head, ducking his head to chuckle breathlessly. He’s so endearingly handsome. “Never been more okay in my life.” And then he’s placing his hand on your thigh, fingertips so close to where you need him most, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

At the next stoplight, Aaron finally does his jeans back up and then twists his body towards you. His eyes are still dark, bottom lip raw from where he must have been biting it, and then says to you again in a low voice “Come here.”

You obey, because how could you not, and then Aaron’s hand that was on your thigh is cradling your jaw to meet you halfway and kiss you, deeply. It’s a different kiss than the one he gave you earlier, more intense as his tongue slides against yours. He groans at the taste of himself in your mouth and you swear you fall a little more in love with him.

When he pulls back, he’s looking at you like you’re something precious, despite the fact that your hair must be a rat’s nest from his hands and your lips are swollen and chapped. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, something sweet twitching at the corner of his mouth. “You think you can wait until we get back to the hotel?”

You fail to hide your surprise because Aaron rarely wants to spend the night together on cases, which technically explains how you got here in the first place, the taste of come still at the back of your mouth and your panties sticking to you. He must really want to fuck you. You run your eyes over him, at the red light sharpening his features and his dimple just barely visible. You imagine him looming over you and holding onto the straps adorning his sides as he fucks mercilessly into you. “As long as you keep the vest on.”

The smile on Aaron’s face is blinding, causing your heart to stutter in your chest. You’re so screwed.

“Deal.”

[leia-writes]

not sure if you’ve wrote this before but Frontmanxfem reader maybe she’s like nervous for him to go down on her and he reassures her🥹

Movement

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link

masterlist

song inspiration: movement by hozier

note: thanks for your request!! I'm so happy to finally be writing again. more to come with season 2 out!

warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY

word count: 2,998

posted on: 1/4/2025

“Fuck!” you exclaimed under your breath, elevator doors closing in front of you. You pressed the button to your floor and impatiently waited for the elevator to take you to your residence. As soon as the doors opened, you ripped your mask off and stormed down the hallway.

You passed the main living room, furnished with two leather chairs facing a large screen and a table with a half drunk glass of whiskey on it. Another mask like yours laid neatly on the table next to the glass. You hurled yours across the room in a fit of rage.

Storming into the nearby kitchen, you saw In-ho pouring a glass of your favorite wine.

“I hope that’s for me,” you sighed as you approached In-ho.

He gave you a sympathetic look and handed you the glass. “I heard what happened.”

You finished the glass off in a few seconds, slamming it down on the counter. In-ho approached your hunched over figure but you stood straight again, pointing at him.

“I could kill them all. Every last one of them,” you seethed. 

He knew exactly who you were talking about, and gave you a soft, pitying look. “I know, I know you could. You’d be really good at it too.” He caressed your cheek as he praised you, a playful smirk flashing across his face for a moment.

You huffed, rolling your eyes but softening at his affection. “I’m fucking serious. I’m done with these pretentious assholes.”

Before you joined In-ho in your shared residence that evening, you’d spent your entire day with the VIPs. Handling impossible requests and battling egos was the most insufferable part of your job. You’d run around so much that day trying to appease every demand that you could’ve probably traversed every inch of the island in the same amount of time. 

In-ho spent the day in Seoul, working with the recruiter to find the next batch of players, and was therefore spared from dealing with the VIPs. Your muscles ached with fatigue and jealousy.

In-ho embraced you, stroking your hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure you don’t see them for a while, alright?” You sighed heavily in response, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his warm torso.

He smiled as you melted into his touch. “My poor darling. Let me make you feel better.”

He swiftly picked you up and carried you to one of the leather chairs in the main room, setting you down gently in front of him. Before you could register what was happening, his lips were on yours, distracting you from the tension that wracked your body and mind.

In-ho leaned over you, pressing your back to the chair. You gently pulled away. “In-ho, I-”

He gently pressed a finger over your mouth, caressing your cheek. “Shh, just let me take care of you now, alright?” 

You sighed as he dipped his head down to kiss your neck, your skin becoming flushed and warm. He brought a hand down your side, gently starting to coax your shirt upwards. 

You knew exactly what he was after - you’d done this for him more times than you could count. The job you two held was a difficult one, and you had no problem being an outlet of stress relief for each other. 

He brought his hands to your pants, carefully undoing the buttons and lowering the zipper, before slowly dipping his hand into your underwear. He released himself from your neck and looked at you, gauging your reactions.

You leaned forward and kissed him hard as his hand dipped into your warm core, soaking his fingers as he explored you. He groaned at the warm wetness on his fingers. You sighed, desperate for more, but a confused feeling of embarrassment was starting to cloud your lustful thoughts.

He brought his hand from your core to his mouth, obscenely tasting your juices on his fingers. He groaned, a sound that would’ve normally made you feral but instead made you feel vulnerable. You felt your breath catch in your throat, unsure of how to react.

He roughly grasped the waist of your pants and began pulling them down before you grabbed his hand to stop them. He immediately looked at you with concern.

Your face flushed red with embarrassment. “I… I’m, uh…”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, not that, I just… I…” You internally slapped yourself for sounding so stupid.

He playfully smirked at you. “You know I’ve seen it, right? There’s no need to be so bashful.”

You scoffed. Of course you’d known that. You’d had sex with him many times before, that was nothing new. But having his fingers on you, and the thought of having his face down there, made you more self-conscious than you knew how to deal with. In the past, you’d redirect his attention elsewhere quickly to avoid dealing with the imaginary shame you might feel.

And that’s exactly what you planned to do now.

“I know… I’m just too tense right now. I’m sorry.” You started pulling your pants back up, looking down in guilt.

He quickly tilted your face towards him, giving you a concerned look and caressing your face. “It’s alright, darling. You don’t have to be sorry.” He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Do you want to take a hot bath?”

“Yes."

~~~

After taking your relaxing hot bath and washing the day’s stress away, you climbed into your shared bed with In-ho. You already felt a million times better. In-ho was immersed in a book he was reading, but wrapped his arm around you when you climbed into bed next to him.

“Are you feeling better?”

You gave him a happy, dazed smile. “Very much so.”

He smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead, diverting his attention back to his book. You grabbed the one you were currently reading and began to do the same next to him.

After a short while of getting comfortable in bed, your thoughts began to wander as you read. You thought about In-ho touching you before, how good it felt and sounded to you. The overwhelming embarrassment and anxiety you felt at the time was now closer to a distant memory. You felt much more comfortable in your body, more intrigued than embarrassed about the thought of In-ho’s mouth on you. 

You felt the familiar flush in your skin again and set your book down. Warmth was spreading throughout your body but you weren’t sure how to express what you wanted, so you snuggled up to In-ho, resting your arm on his chest.

He glanced at you as he read. “Getting tired?”

“No, you’re just so warm.” A believable lie.

He smiled and continued to read, oblivious to the dirty thoughts starting to cloud your mind. You wanted him bad. How was he not able to read your mind and know exactly what you wanted at that moment? You glanced at him quickly and started playing with the hem of his shirt, hoping he’d get some sort of hint from your mixed signals.

In-ho eyed your hands on his shirt and set his book down. “What are you thinking about, darling?” He had a naughty glint in his eye, suspecting he knew what you might be after.

At the first glance from him, your newfound confidence faltered. “Nothing. Just laying here with you.” You feigned innocence - but he knew better.

He turned his body towards you, your hand unintentionally slipping underneath his shirt. “Nothing at all?”

“Nope. Nothing.” You began to gently caress his warm skin, avoiding eye contact.

He gently sighed at your touch. “Hm. You don’t want anything?”

You gave him a pleading look but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything except for a quiet hum.

He leaned forward to kiss you, gently, before slightly pulling back, testing how much you wanted. You quickly leaned forward to return his kiss, deeper and more needy, twisting the hem of his shirt in your hands.

He sighed and pushed you on your back, slightly hovering over you as he deepened the kiss even further. After a few moments, he pulled back, observing your beautifully flushed face.

“Do you want me to make you feel better? Like before?”

Your breath hitched again, and all you could muster was a small nod, silently begging for his lips to be on yours again.

He crashed his lips into yours, kissing you more fervently now, and positioned himself completely above you. Your fingers found their way into his hair, gently tugging, eliciting delicious, soft moans from his throat. It drove you insane.

You wanted so badly for him to feel good, for him to enjoy every second with you, it was hard to understand how he’d want to solely focus on you and your pleasure. You know he’d do anything for you… but your own self-doubt clouded your mind in these moments.

As if he knew what you were thinking, In-ho pulled away and looked at you with a fierce intention. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “But… you have before.”

“Not like this. Not like I’ve wanted to. Not like you deserve.” 

He gently rubbed your cheek, hoping you could feel the sincerity in his words. It felt like your heart was in your throat, you could barely express how he made you feel in that moment. Your eyebrows furrowed and you leaned towards him for a harsh, needy kiss before guiding his hand to your underwear.

Without any pants on, he swiftly pulled your underwear down, leaning back in front of your raised knees as he pulled the blanket off. He placed his hands on your legs to spread them, but the sudden exposure made you feel vulnerable and hesitant for a moment, and you froze.

You let out a pitiful moan, your body conflicted on what to do. In-ho gently caressed your legs and leaned forward, giving you a sweet kiss. 

“Let me make you feel better.” He echoed from before.

You silently nodded and spread your legs, and In-ho quickly settled his head in between them. He gently kissed around your inner thigh, taking his time on each side, intentionally avoiding your wet, aching core. Although you couldn’t ignore the involuntary waves of self-consciousness, you focused on the anticipation rising throughout your body, your need for his mouth to be on you.

In-ho’s mouth hovered over your core, the sensation of his hot breath on you driving you crazy. You squirmed beneath him as he placed a firm arm over your stomach.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he instructed. He paused for a moment, as if waiting for your permission. 

The moment you looked down at him, he placed his mouth on you, his tongue flat on your core, gently sucking. 

The sudden wave of pleasure immediately wracked your body. You threw your head back with a surprised moan, your hands instantly grabbing at the sheets. 

In-ho groaned loudly in satisfaction, as if he’d been hungry for you his whole life and just now, finally, got a taste. You felt his groan through your sensitive clit, making your hips twitch under his movements. He continued to work his tongue over your clit and your aching entrance, tasting every inch of you, relishing in your gasps and moans.

You felt possessed, unable to control your sounds and movements as he all but consumed you. His hands grasped at your sides, your thighs, anything he could get his hands on. You felt yourself relax into this position and spread your legs further, wanting more and more of him.

He kept his mouth on you as he splayed his hands on the back of your thighs, pressing them down, following your lead and spreading you out even further for him. You looked down again at him ravenously devouring you, the sight of it almost undoing you.

You cried out in pleasure, starting to twitch and grind beneath him, feeling like your release could come at any moment now. You’d never felt like it had been this easy before. In-ho briefly stopped to look at you, a slight, satisfied grin on his face.

“You’re doing so well. Do you feel good, darling?”

You let out a soft cry. “Yes.” You gave him a needy, pleading look. 

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

The thought of it made you clench, you could barely make out words. “Mhm.”

His head was spinning with those obscene sounds you were making. “Good. I want you to cum on my face, okay?”

You cried out in pleasure and frustration, and pushed his head back on you, gripping his hair for dear life. He groaned at your unrelenting neediness, just egging you on even further to the edge.

You felt your body chasing release, pressing In-ho’s face to your aching cunt, grinding beneath him, using him solely for your pleasure. His incessant moans seemed to vibrate throughout your entire being, setting your skin on fire, bringing tears to your eyes.

With a few more swipes of his tongue, you came absolutely undone beneath him.

You felt a white hot wave of pleasure explode from your core, your muscles involuntarily shaking, and you cried out in pleasure and pure emotional release. Tears flowed down your face as you allowed the pleasure to take over, allowed yourself to feel good. In-ho diligently kept his mouth on you as you rode out your orgasm.

As you slowly came to consciousness, In-ho leaned back and watched you, all of you. You wiped the tears from your eyes and watched him in a daze. He was completely enamored by you, his hands wandering from your thighs to your core, spreading his fingers over your sensitive clit and your aching entrance.

You suddenly felt… empty. Quietly whimpering, you grabbed his wrist, keeping his fingers on you, silently begging for more. He gave you a bewildered look.

“Did that feel good?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You pressed his fingers further towards your entrance.

His eyes darkened. “Hm. Do you want more, darling?”

You nodded again. Even though you felt spent from your orgasm, you couldn’t deny the aching need to feel him inside you.

“So needy, hm? You can’t get enough, is that right? Need something to fill you up too?”

You looked away and groaned, a mixture of embarrassment and desire swirling in your mind. 

“Please,” you whispered.

In-ho slowly moved to hover over you, gently turning your head towards him.

“Tell me what you want.”

You whimpered, kissing him and reaching for the prominent bulge in his underwear. You could feel his cock straining against the fabric. In-ho groaned above you, his cock painfully aching to feel you.

He let out a harsh breath through his teeth. “Fuck… do you feel what you’ve done to me?”

You continued to massage him, feel him twitch under your fingers, his moans becoming more reckless every second. You felt all your senses go on edge again, responding to every single sound he made. He quickly swatted your hand away and pulled his underwear down.

“If you keep doing that I won’t last much longer,” he breathed out, his voice hoarse and primal. He quickly lined his cock with your entrance and thrusted into you, your hips meeting his thrust and your warmth enveloping him completely.

He stopped for a second, too overwhelmed to move. You were so deliciously warm, your flesh so sensitive from before. The feeling of his cock stretching you made a wave of pleasure sink into your body and you couldn’t help but let out a feral moan.

In-ho leaned himself further over you, pressing your legs up, and began to pound into you relentlessly. You grabbed at his arms and shoulders, any part of him you could hold onto as he fucked you through the bed. He was relentless in his movements, completely focused on the pleasure building between the two of you.

He roughly grabbed your jaw. “Fuck… I could’ve come undone just watching you before.”

You cried out beneath him, clenching on his cock as he fucked you with a determined pace.

He continued. “That pretty fucking pussy, clenching and gushing just for me… you loved it, didn’t you?”

You moaned and nodded.

“That’s right,” he huffed. “My pretty fucking girl loves to cum on my face, doesn’t she?”

His words send shockwaves throughout your body, and you could only cry out and continue nodding.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his pace quickening. You could tell he was close.

“Fuck. And you’re gonna cum on my cock now, aren’t you?”

You squeezed your eyes. “Yes, fuck, yes I’m going to right now I-”

You felt the familiar wave of pleasure crash over your entire body again, your walls clenching on In-ho’s cock as he stuttered in his pace. You cried out, feeling In-ho release himself inside of you with a loud, guttural groan. He thrusted into you slowly, chasing any remnants of pleasure for both of you as you both calmed down. You held each other close, heavy breaths slowing into satisfied sighs. 

In-ho laid down next to you and pulled you to him, kissing the side of your face and brushing his fingers through your hair. Your entire body felt exhausted, but not like before. 

In-ho leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Are you alright now?”

You sleepily nodded. “Yes. Very much so.”

He smiled, satisfied, and rested his head near yours. As he stroked your head, he whispered.

“You know I would do anything for you, right?”

You gave him a concerned look. “Of course.”

He looked at you fiercely. “So don’t be afraid to ask for what you want.”

You sighed, almost pouting. After a few moments, you nodded. “Okay.”

He smiled, pulling you close and the blanket over you two, both of you quickly falling into a satisfied slumber.

[zepskies]

Wanderlust

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: Your wandering hands are keeping Ben up at night.

AN: My nightly daydreams led me to Soldier Boy this time. 😂

I was imagining the Break Me Down-verse for this one (shortly after Checkerboard), but it can also be general Soldier Boy x Reader.

Word Count: 650

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Fluff, innuendo, Sleepy Ben, implied smut.

You traced down his back with light, trailing fingers.

Lying next to him in bed, with scraps of moonlight filtering through the closed blinds in the window as your only guide, your mind was still drifting even though you should’ve been sleeping.

You couldn’t help yourself.  

You drew invisible patterns across his bare skin. Ben was warm, always warm, even though the AC was making the room almost frigid. You knew it was the ever-present radiator in his chest that made him your own personal heater.

You propped your head up better with an elbow on your pillow as you laid on your side. You then let your hand drift over every dip of muscle between his shoulders, every small freckle you knew just from memory, then down and down his spine.

You flirted with the idea of inching down the sheets, where his bare ass would greet you. From there, you supposed you'd decide what wandering direction your hand took next.

“If you don’t go to sleep,” his deep voice rumbled, “I’m gonna wake up and fuck you again.”

You bit your lip against a giggle, but you didn’t quite succeed.

“It sounds like you’re already awake,” you remarked.

Ben grumbled incoherently in response. He was tired, you knew. He’d just come back from a week-long mission with Butcher and Co. for Supe Affairs. Hence the long night you two spent catching up.

If you were honest, you were still tingling between your legs. Your thighs and ass were a little sore too. Likely they’d be sporting a few fingerprints tomorrow.

You didn't mind it so much though. You two now had a safe word for that kind of thing.

You smirked, sifting your fingers through his hair. It was getting long again. Maybe you’d trim it for him tomorrow, since you both had the weekend off.  

Your hand meandered down the back of his neck, just to begin dragging your nails up and down the slope of his back.

“What does that feel like to you?” you asked curiously. You often wondered how much his invulnerability affected the way he felt things, especially the way you touched him.

“Like a tease,” he muttered.

You applied some more pressure with your nails. Not the way you’d scored his back about an hour ago, when he’d had his sinful mouth all over your body, but enough to be more than a tease. Enough that it would’ve left an angry, red trail on your own “fragile” human skin.

Still, you weren’t able to leave any marks on him. Just a faint whiteness of pressure against his skin that soon returned to normal when you moved your hand away.

“How about that?” you asked.

“Like you’re playing with fucking fire,” Ben said, though you heard the smirk in his voice. “Go to sleep.”

You smiled too.

“We'll pick this up in the morning,” he made sure to add, though he was already halfway back to slumber, from the sound of it.

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, laughing lightly. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against his shoulder. “G’night, babe.”

“Mhmm,” he responded.

He groaned deep in his throat and turned over onto his back. Your smile remained as your body tensed in anticipation, but all he did was slide an arm under your waist and curl you towards him, trapping you against his chest. His hand splayed against your lower back, heavy and warm.

His lips brushed your hair away from your forehead and lingered there. He closed his eyes and let out a deep exhale. You did the same, relaxing against him. Your hand came to rest against the steady thrum of his heart.

Moments like this with him still managed to surprise you…but admittedly, less and less the longer you lived and shared together.

A girl could get used to it though.

AN: Lol should she have pressed her luck? Let me know what you think of this one! 😉💚

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Next we have a little hurt/comfort drabble, A Simple Touch:

Summary: Annie still has reservations about Ben, and you dating him for that matter…until she sees it.

▶️ Next Story: A Simple Touch

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

Including the BMD tag list on this, since that's what my heart was imagining. 😂

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @vavafaure1994 @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

[yuiiiriii]

megumi is head over heels for you. Maybe even obsessed but he’d never admit it.

There was only one problem.

You both were friends because he was too much of a coward to tell you how he felt. He told himself many times that it was okay. If you could still drag him everywhere with you, if he could still come over and do your skincare routine.

Then it was ok.

But he was selfish.

Oh how he wanted to hold you, kiss you, he couldn’t help the jealousy that filled him when another guy treated you terribly.

Megumi was never subtle with his feelings but you’re oblivious. When he’d take you out to get your favorite treats, your to busy stuffing your face that he swiftly swiped your hair out of your face, holding it with an amused smile on his face. The way he ‘complains’ about you not bringing a sweater when you said that you wouldn’t get cold. But he thinks it looks better on you anyways and now you’re happy, that pretty smile on your lips. But it’s so painfully obvious because Megumi is only soft with you.

“Come on Megumi!” Yuuji yells, throwing his arms around his shoulder. Megumi slumps, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” Nobara eyebrows raise, digging her shoulder into his side.

“Why? Only your ethereal best friend can call you that?”

Megumi wants to smile because he’s always happy when you’re mentioned or around. But he bites it back and pouts instead. He sucks his teeth as the two continue to pester him.

He lets out a sigh when he enters your room.

“Megs!” You light up and that warm smile etches back on his face.

“Hey.” He caresses your hair when you hug him.

“Come! Sit!” You pat your bed and he obliges. You begin rambling about the new skincare products you wanted to try with him.

“I got you something.” His words cut you off.

“Huh? Me?” You blink and he laughs.

“Yes you.” He pulls a small box from his pocket.

“You’ve been saying you wanted one…so I got you one.” He opens the box and your eyes twinkle, much like the diamond on the necklace.

“Megumi.” You breathe out, holding it so softly in the palms of your hands.

“Thank you.” You quip, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

It wasn’t the first time and Megumi hopes it isn’t the last.

“Put it on me!” You say giddily, turning around. He gently rests it in your neck, clasping it. You face him, playing with it.

“Does it look pretty?” You smile at him but he’s already looking at you, never flickering to the necklace.

“Very pretty.” He says so softly.

“So are we gonna try those products?” He tilts his head and you clasp your hands.

“Right! Come on!”

Megumi enjoys his time with you like it might be his last. He cherishes every look you give him, every word you say. He holds onto everything. He’s sat on your bed once again, as you rummage through your bag. Your hands engulf his face.

“I was gonna put a lip mask but they don’t even look dry. You have pretty lips ‘gumi.” You say staring without a shame and his heart races.

“I do?”

You hum.

“But I don’t so you need to apply some on me.” He laughs as you close your eyes, scooting closer to him.

He holds your chin between his fingers, letting the cream lather on your lips. You can feel his breath inches away from you, making your stomach do backflips. Your eyes flutter open and he blinks at you. He gulps, focusing back on your lips. However your eyes stay open, engraving his features into your memory.

“You’re very pretty Megumi.” He tries to fight the blush that covers his face.

“Pretty?” He glances at you.

“Fine. Handsome.” You cheekily say and he shakes his head in amusement.

He swipes his thumb over the bottom of your lip, cleaning it up. He holds your chin, his thumb gliding across your skin. Your big eyes blink up at him and he can’t find it in himself to hold back any longer. As soon as his lips meet yours, you deepen it, almost as if you’ve been waiting for this exact moment.

News flash, you were.

Megumi loses himself in you, the way your lips feel, your hands coming up to brush at the nape of his neck, your scent. When you pull away you break into a smile.

“My lips were kinda chapped.” He jokes, the product on his lips as well. You laugh and he does too.

“So…” You drag on and he laughs.

“Come over here you idiot.” He says as he pulls you onto his lap, kissing you once again.

Finally his problem was solved.

© yuiiiriii