#just imagine like. very good curls.

[inkats]

insane what conditioner does to a guys hair

[redlyriumidol]

golden boy w a dark world on his shoulders.... CANNOT believe the inquisitor, my 40 year old son, is making a reappearance

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 ! ❞

❝ THE FOUR TIMES YOUR NEIGHBOR TRIES TO HOOK UP WITH YOU AND THE ONE TIME HE SUCCEEDS !! ❞

✧ pairing: uncle! sukuna x neighbor! reader

✧ summary: you had grown up next door to the itadoris, but you never had met their uncle. and for good reason, he had spent the majority of his life in and out of jail. but now he was finally out, and he only had one goal in mind -- getting you in his bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, uncle sukuna, degradation (slut, whore, brat), freshly out from jail sukuna, implied age gap (sukuna probably like late 30s / early 40s, reader is like mid twenties), wet dreams (f!), masturbation (f! +m!), dom!sukuna, sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (f + m), spanking (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, orgasm delay (f! receiving), implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart found on pinterest (let me know if you know the og artist)

✧ w/c: 8,939

You were a pretty little thing. 

That’s what he thought when he first saw you. And when he saw you smile, his second thought was — how could he have you? 

You were the girl next door. Literally. Grew up next to the Itadori family, you watched the brat on weekends, helped around the house after the mom had left, and even slept over some nights in the guest room. 

The very room you were in now, pinned underneath him, legs spread as your cunt gushed as if you had been the one doing time instead of him. 

“Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly?” He clicks his tongue, the glint of his piercing in the low light of the moonlight that illuminated the barest hint of the room. It was by that light that you could not only see the way his lips curled into a smirk as his hand came down on your needy pussy, but the noticeable bulge in his pants, “g’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

“Are the cookies almost done?” Yuji asked, rubbing the back of his head, squinting at the cookies through the oven window, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, “sure you’re not burning them?” 

“I know how to bake cookies, Yu,” you roll your eyes, as you clean the counters off of the flour and bits of dough and sugar that smeared the surface, “why are you so impatient anyway?” 

“He wants to leave before the wrecking ball blows through, and you should do that same,” Choso adds, emerging from his room with a yawn, and you tilt your head, his gaze slides to Yuji, “she doesn’t know?” 

Yuji shakes his head, “I thought Dad was—” 

Choso glances at you, gesturing to his face to tell you that you had something on your own, before his eyes slide back to his younger brother, “You know Jin can barely remember to tell us, much less—” 

You cross your arms, wiping the flour and sugar from your cheek, but you only manage to make it worse, “Can you guys just tell me instead of having an argument about who should have told me?” 

Yuji sighed, leaning against the counter, elbow propped up as he held his head up with his fist flat against his chin, “My dad’s brother is coming to stay for us for the summer,” 

“Your uncle?” and you miss the way Yuji grimaces at the question, too busy pulling on oven mitts, “Your dad’s great — I can’t imagine your uncle being any different,” you pull the cookies from the oven, swatting Yuji’s hand as he tries to take one off the still burning rack, “you’ll burn yourself, just wait,” 

Your own family was scattered here and there now — and the Itadoris had been like your own family as you grew up — Jin was like a second dad to you, he had always looked after you, even after you had graduated from college. The quiet man didn’t say much but he did a lot, and you couldn’t imagine his brother being much different. 

And then the door swung open, a large man caught in the backlight of the summer sun, casting a long shadow across the entryway made your breath stick in your chest as if it was where it belonged — pinned under his mere presence. 

“Looks like you’ve done nothing to change the place, did you?” He takes a step or two in and finally his body is cast into view — tattoos bound like ribbons against his skin, muscles are heavy cords that look more monstrous than human — as no human should be as hulking as he was. But that was nothing compared to his face itself — black tattoos lining both sides of his face in an intricate pattern that stole your breath from your lungs, while his eyes were black holes that cut right through you than at you, a flicker of flames burning underneath, “tch, brat, take my things up—“ he tosses the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at Yuji who catches it with a glare, before his gaze slides to Choso, “and he’s still here?” 

“Don’t be rude to my son and his brother, Sukuna,” Jin sighed, entering behind him as he shut the door, “Choso is welcome, and don’t forget you’re a guest here,” he takes the bag from his son, and takes it upstairs instead. 

And Sukuna’s gaze finally falls on you. It’s heavy, the sharp tip of a sword tracing every inch of your body as it circled its weak points — his eyes lingers on the curves of your body — and perhaps the points he liked too. 

“And who’s this?” he jerks his head towards you gruffly, as if you couldn’t answer yourself. 

You say your name, “I’m their neighbor,” and he nods, eyes darting to Choso, his body growing tense, as he gritted his teeth, but Sukuna was only all smiles, he took steps forward. You can’t help but avert your gaze, as he approaches, fingers outstretched, a slight flinch but it’s gone soon enough. 

You glance up, and find him taking a bite of one of your cookies, tongue darting out to lick the chocolate from his lips, “sweet,” he devours it, “not bad, brat,” and he leans close again to grab another, “but probably not as sweet as you.” 

And your eyes widen, as he bears no reaction, except for a small smirk that graces his lips, as he follows his brother upstairs, “You better not be fucking around in my things,” 

You don’t hear Jin’s reply, still utterly consumed by what just happened. 

“You okay? He’s just like that,” Choso murmurs, “he won’t bother you, I promise,” 

“No, no, I’m okay,” your lips curl in an offer of reassurance, but you’re sure it falls flat, as your eyes glance back at the stairs. 

And that was your first time meeting Sukuna. 

But far from your last.  

The next time you saw him was at a summer barbecue the Itadoris always had to kick off summer break. And most of your time was spent chatting with Choso and kicking Yuji’s ass at Mario Kart, until it grew dark, and Choso was stuck carrying a slightly tipsy Yuji inside.

You laid back in the patio chair, scrolling on your phone to the symphony of cicadas filling the silence, the smoke from the barbecue still lingering in the night — and then you hear the creak of the back door open. 

“You want another drink, Choso?” 

“I’d love a drink, girl,” and your eyes snap over to spot Sukuna, standing with hands tucked into his pockets, a black tank you assumed was several sizes too small. 

“Sure,” you say, slipping from your chair, “but we only have the mix for a sex on the beach,” and his eyes find yours, a ghost of a gruff chuckle on his lips. 

“Sounds perfect if it’s from you, sweetheart,” and you have to suppress the urge to roll your eyes — he may be nice to look at, but he isn’t smooth, you make the drink in relative silence. Until you sense his presence behind you, your head whipping back to find him looming, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Uh—“ 

“Just wanted to see a master bartender at work, you seem like you really know what you’re doing, with, what’s the drink called again?” And you force yourself to look forward, ignoring the weird mix of his musk and alcohol, with the clink of the ice cubes against the glsd breaking the silence. 

“Sex on the beach,” you offer it to him, and fuck, you don’t like it — don’t like him and his smug grin, the way your eyes can’t pull away from his, the way your heart clenched, and the way you wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smile on off his face. 

“Good girl,” he plucks the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, “want to have one with me?” 

And you almost find yourself saying yes, find yourself buckling under the heat of his gaze and the summer humidity that clings to your skin and strangles the sense from your head — and you can’t help but think how nice those fingers of his would feel around your neck—

“No, no, I probably should head home. It’s late—“ and just then the back door opens again, Choso standing in the doorway, “Choso, where’s Yu?” 

“I got him to bed. Come on, I’ll walk you home,” and you nod, grabbing your bag with a slight nod to Sukuna before disappearing inside, and you don’t catch the way your best friend glares at Sukuna. 

And you don’t see the way Sukuna stares at you as you walk away either. 

The third time you meet Sukuna is a few nights later — and it wasn’t for lack of trying to avoid him. 

“Can I have some popcorn?” you ask, eyes still glued to the TV, a movie that the two of you had seen a million times before during movie night, “Choso?” you glance over at him, but he’s staring off into space, “hello?” you nudge him, and he finally comes to. 

“Sorry, what?” And you sigh, leaning over and grabbing the popcorn bowl, “sorry I was just—“ he shakes his head, “nothing,” 

“You’re so convincing,” and you see a flush crawl up his neck, “C‘mon, what’s bothering you?” 

You toss a pillow at Choso, the pillow bouncing off his face to land in his lap, the glow of the TV in his dark bedroom giving you enough light to see the glare on his face, “Cho, you’ve been brooding all night — did Yuji call you by your name instead of big brother?” 

He scoffs, “I only got upset about that once,” or twice or maybe ten times, “it’s Sukuna. He’s been really grating on my nerves,” and your eyebrows knit together, as you put the volume of the TV down. 

“What has he done?” and Choso hesitates, several emotions flicker across his face before a stoic look glazes over his face, as he presses his hand to his lips, “you can tell me—“ 

There’s a knock at the door, and Yuji sticks his head in, “Hey, Dad has to sleep now for a meeting, so move to the living room,” and you throw popcorn at him, but he only catches one or two in his mouth and leaves. 

You sigh, “I should probably just go home anyway, I have to get some sleep,” you glance at Choso, who is fascinated with his floor all of a sudden, “you okay?” He moves to get up, but you shake your head, “just chill, I’ll walk back.” 

He opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it,  “I’m fine, just get home safe okay?”

You snort, “think I’ll be fine walking the ten feet to my door,” you grab your things, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you close the door softly, turning to head up the hallway and out of the house, bag slung over your shoulder, and you’re turning the corner, when you nearly crash into someone. 

A hand curls around your wrist to steady you, “You should watch where you’re going, brat,” and your eyes flit up to find a dark gaze looking back down at you, lips curled in a small grin, “don’t know what you’ll find wandering these halls,” 

You pull your arm away, “I’m pretty familiar with these halls and what wanders them,” 

“Not all of them,” the low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, as you brush past him, avoiding his piercing gaze, cutting through you with practiced ease, “what were you doing here so late anyway?” You ignore him as you go to grab your shoes, but find them missing. 

“Have you seen my shoes?” and he only tilts his head, arms crossed, muscles inked with tattoos that littered up and down, and you knew he could pin you down with barely an ounce of effort. 

“Maybe answer my question and I’ll tell you,” and your lips twist into a scowl, as you begin to look around, checking the coat closet, under the couch, “was he really that bad?” And his question makes you pause, “the cursed brat, in bed? Did he not do the job for you?” 

You haul yourself to your feet, “What is your problem?” 

And his expression is as milquetoast as ever, as if he had asked you about the weather as opposed to asking if you had fucked your best friend, “You don’t have to be fucking sensitive, it’s just a question,” he runs his painted nails through his dyed cropped hair, low light glinting off the black sheen, “unless it was that bad,” 

“Fuck off,” you scoff, trying to walk past him but he blocks you, “what?” 

“Maybe I’ll help you find your shoes, if you have a drink with me,” and you cross your arms. 

“Did you go to jail for stealing? Because with all those muscles and tattoos, I’m surprised you weren’t caught sooner,” and he’s leaning closer, breath warming your lips and your blood alike, boiling under your skin as if he had set you on fire without lying a single finger on you. 

“Didn’t take you to be one to admire me, little one, after all, I’m just your neighbors’ uncle aren’t I? Jailbird, criminal, fucking lowlife, right? And his fingers ghost over your jaw, “but I don’t see you pulling away, do I?” 

And you aren’t. But why aren’t you? Every brain cell is telling you to fucking run, but your body wants nothing more than to lean into his touch, to give in, let yourself be engulfed by him—

The creak of the door has you jumping back, “hey, you forgot your shoes—“ Choso starts, and his gaze snaps between you and Sukuna. 

“Thanks, Cho,” you slip past Sukuna, grabbing your shoes, “i was wondering what I did with them,” you step into your shoes, cheeks still burning as you can’t quite meet your best friend’s eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you’re gone without another word, the silence of your exit hanging overhead as the screen door clicks closed behind you. Sukuna watches you leave, and as he turns he’s met with a glare from Choso. 

Sukuna only gives a gruff chuckle, walking past as he lets his shoulder bump against Choso’s, “What are you fucking looking at?” 

And now he had visited you in your dreams too. 

“S’fucking wet,” Sukuna has you pinned down with one hand, face hovering over your drenched cunt, as he toyed with it, tugging your folds apart to let some of your pre drip onto your bedspread, “fucking slut, you were begging for this, weren’t you?” 

And a thick digit sinks into you with little resistance, making your back arch as pleasure rips up your spine, “fuck off,” you manage, between pants. 

“I know, brat, that’s what I’m trying to do,” he laughs, as he works a second finger inside you with practiced ease, “like I was made to fuck this cunt open, my fingers are already fucking drenched, and all I’ve done is open you up,” and to punctuate his point, he’s scissoring his fingers to stretch your walls out, dragging against them, as your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

“A-ah, please—“ and he’s grinning now, a purr as he leans down to meet your blown out gaze. His fingers begin to fuck you open, his thumb rubbing against your clit as your body rocked against his hand. And a grunt has you looking at him, only to see him palming his erection, slit dripping with precum, “Sukuna, please—“ 

“Knew you’d be a good girl f’me, good little slut gonna break my fingers in two,” and his other hand spanks your clit, “now cum,” 

And you do, muscles clenching as you do, a cry of his name on your lips that does nothing but stroke his ego, your orgasm soaking his hand. Eyes fluttering open to find him licking your release from his fingers, as his other hand undoes his pants and tugs down his boxers, his cock already dragging against your still twitching cunt. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, under your breath, and he only smiles. 

“Now you’re getting it, baby.” 

And your alarm jolts you awake, you stare at your ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin, while you glance at your side to find nothing but your comforter beside you. Not to mention, as you shifted, feeling the telltale stickiness of your arousal and the dull throbbing of your cunt, the aftermath of your dream — your very wet dream. 

“Fuck,” you say, this time out loud and to no one but yourself. This was going to be a problem, if you let this go on. And you couldn’t. Not after the last time — you swing your feet over the edge of the bed and stand, glancing back at the stain of your pre that you flipped your comforter over — and not after that. 

“Have you been avoiding me?” 

Yes, you have done a good job. Until now. 

You gritted your teeth, as you stood in the doorway of the room. But how could you have avoided him in the guest room of the house he lived in? 

And as he loomed in the doorway of the kitchen, dwelling in the shadow of his form, you were kicking the ass of past you, the one that had convinced you it was okay to stay over because Sukuna had been out. 

“Had” being the operative word. 

It had been a few days since you had found yourself at the Itadoris. And more than a few days since you had found yourself dreaming of Sukuna — waking up with his name on your tongue and your panties uncomfortably drenched. You had gone through more underwear this week than you had in a month. And it didn’t help that you felt the need to get off once you did wake, the ache between your thighs was too much to bear before sleep. 

And now here was the subject of your dirty dreams darkening your doorway, as if your dreams were some naughty prophecy waiting to unfold (though you were sure he could fold you). 

“What are you talking about?” 

And you knew exactly what he was talking about. You had made sure Sukuna wasn’t around when you came over (the absence of his motorcycle is a telltale sign), and always left before he returned. But tonight you made the mistake of drinking with Choso, the two of you finishing two bottles of sake before being completely fucked. 

Your head was spinning — you could barely have made it to the bathroom, much less your home. Choso had corralled you into taking his bed, before going and collapsing on his couch. It had been only a few hours into the night before you got up in a haze of confusion with your mouth drier than the Sahara. You pulled yourself up, slipped on thin sleep shorts that you had thrown off at some point due to the summer humidity, before finding your way to the door. 

You made your way to the kitchen, the squeak of the fridge as you pulled it open to grab a water bottle. And that’s when he spoke. 

“And here you are,” and the water bottle nearly slipped from your grasp, “no need to jump, brat, I’m not a monster or a shadow,”

No, but he’s so much worse, he’s real. 

“I was just getting something to drink,” you murmur, and he tilts his head, as he takes a step closer. 

“Just water?’ That’s not the kind of drink you still owe me,” and why was his presence so intoxicating? Several drinks in and you could still hold your own, still speak in complete sentences, and even make your way home on foot. But Sukuna comes near, and suddenly you can barely form a fucking syllable, your limbs feel far too heavy, and your body is nearly burning, as if he had turned your blood to wine without any miracle needed. 

No, it was more of a curse. 

“I don’t remember owing you anything,” and he’s tilting his head, amusement flickering across his lips, a step closer and then another, until you’re utterly engulfed in his presence. You can smell the mix of exhaust and sweat off of him from his motorcycle ride, the way his jaw tenses as if he is holding himself back from taking a bite, and the way his gaze pierces into you as if he has you pinned like a butterfly under glass. 

“Do I need to give you a reason?” And when his fingers ghosted over your swell of your cheek, a featherlight brush from rough, calloused skin that makes a shiver roll down your body, “didn’t think I had to with the way you were nearly melting into my touch when I saw you last, girl,” 

“I wasn’t the one begging for me to be there,” and he clicks his tongue derisively, and you wonder what else he can do with it, before his fingers grip your chin roughly, forcing your gaze to his. 

“Tch, so pleased with yourself just for resisting, are you, sweetheart?” he tilts his head, while his other hand slithers down your side until he finds your waist and tugs you close, lips hanging close, a forbidden fruit begging you to take a bite, “imagine how good you’d feel if you gave in,” and you almost do, melting into his touch, as if you were made to fit in his arms, leaning up so you could feel the warm breath of his welcome—

SLAM! 

You’re sent stumbling back again, clearing your throat, as the sounds of footsteps grow close, and Yuji wanders into the kitchen, mouth pulled open by his yawn, as he blinks as he spots the two of you. 

“Hey, I thought you were asleep upstairs,” he walks past the two of you to grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, and sparing a short glance at Sukuna, “and I thought you had plans,” 

“Plans can change, brat,” Sukuna sighs, his eyes still trained on you — a homing missile with a target, and Yuji was an obstacle in the way, “shouldn’t you go back to bed?” 

“I could ask you two the same,” he leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, while you only shook your head. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” your only exit opportunity and you’d take it — there had been enough mistakes made, and you didn’t need another to add to the list, and you’re slipping back into your room without another word. 

You don’t see the way Sukuna glares at his nephew, cursing the day of his existence with only his eyes, only gaining a confused stare in return, “What? Ow!”

And you’re only left questioning why Yuji is holding a bag of ice to his head the next morning. 

But you knew you couldn’t avoid Sukuna forever — and you couldn’t avoid how you felt either.

Especially when he gave you exactly what you wanted — space. You had barely seen him for the next week, the former criminal making himself scarce, apparently telling his brother that he had grown tired of “rooming with a bunch of brats,” and had found himself another place to stay for a while. 

Jin had sighed when you had asked over breakfast a day or so after he left, “I don’t know how long he’ll be gone, but we’ll see. The only requirement of his release was to stay in the prefecture—” 

“And that’s already far too close,” Yuji muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from his dad, “so we don’t even know if he’ll be back huh?” 

Jin shrugs, as he sips his coffee, “I don’t know — your uncle isn’t one to stay in one place — unless there’s something that he wants,” 

“I’ll take any amount of time that he’s not here,” Choso shakes his head, offering you a small smile, “and this way you can stay over in the guest room now,” 

“Yeah, true,” you offered a weak smile, as you continued to pick at your food. This was good news, things were going back to normal, but even so, as you pushed your food on your plate — why did your chest ache so much? 

“Yuck, do people’s heads really explode like that?” Yuji sat with the two of you in the living room, TV playing the movie Yuji had chosen, shoveling popcorn by the fistful. 

“How would we know that?” you snort, stealing popcorn from his bowl, “why did you even choose this movie anyway?” 

“He heard there was a Megan Thee Stallion cameo in it,” and Yuji’s cheeks flushed, visible even in the dim illumination of the TV, as he got to his feet. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you two want anything?” And you both shake your heads, as you stifle your chuckle. 

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Choso asks, and you tilt your head, toying with a popcorn kernel between your fingers. 

You shrug, “we’ll see,” your eyes drift back to the movie, but you feel the creak of the bed as he shifts. 

“You don’t have been avoiding staying over, even though it’s just us,” Fuck, your eyes still found themselves on the screen instead of him, anywhere but him, and you can hear the unspoken words — even though Sukuna is not here, “are you sure we’re good?” 

And you couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t him that was bothering you. It wasn’t him keeping you up at night, it wasn’t him who had been tempting you the last few weeks, and it wasn’t him that you wanted to see — no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself. 

So you don’t.  

You smile as best you can, “Everything’s fine, Choso,” and he frowns, still unsure, and you know there’s only one thing that will assure him, if only a little, “I’ll stay over,” 

And so you end up in the guest room — far too late. Even though Sukuna no longer lingered here, his scent still did, even with the sheet change and the small amount of his things gone, he was still very much here. 

And it did little for your sleep. Or maybe too much. 

Again, you dreamt of him, his large palms dragging down your sides, lips pulled in a smirk that he pressed to the hollow of your throat before it’s consumed by a flash of canines that pinch and tease the softness of your flesh. 

“S’fucking wet,” he huffs a chuckle out, “such a little slut, been wanting this for far too long haven’t you?” And he’s undoing your robe with ease, a single tug has your body revealed to him, “haven’t even laid a finger on you and look at the mess you’ve made,” he clicks his tongue, and a whine parts your lips, “already whining like a bitch?” 

He shoves two fingers inside you, a gasp ripped from your throat, thick digits stretching your walls, clenching around the intrusion, “Sukuna—please,” 

“Silly girl,” he murmurs in your ear, “I’m not even the one touching you now,” and fantasy melts into reality as his hand cups your chin, eyes fluttering open, “but I know I can make you cum faster than any dream,” 

Wait. What? 

And suddenly the touch down your body feels all too real, pain ribboning from the fingers squeezing your hips hard, and a gasp as your body trembles, still caught between sleep and reality. Your body can’t move, but it’s not the weight of your own limbs keeping you still. 

Your eyes shoot open completely, sleep shed completely from your mind. 

And you found Sukuna, his lips curled in a smile that was far too familiar from other sleepless nights. But was it? Or was it another dream that he had invaded, far too real as you slept in his bed, rather than your own. 

Your hand reaches out for him shakily, fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, “Is this real?” you mutter, more to yourself, but he takes it upon himself to answer, his hand darting out to curl around your wrist, squeezing, while the other holds himself up, mattress creaking a divot where his hand pressed in, body heat all too close. 

“Want me to pinch you? Can’t say it’ll be the cheek you’re thinking of,” he chuckles, unable to meet his gaze, “don’t go acting like a shy virgin now, woman. You’re the one having wet dreams about me,” 

“No, I-I, it wasn’t—“ but your brain is short circuiting and his laugh that rumbles against you tells you he’s enjoying this far too much, “what are you doing here? I thought you left,” the statement comes out far too biting, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“I did, but it was just for a week. I had some business to deal with,” and a grin pulls at his lips, “why? Did you miss me, brat? Is that why you’re dreaming of me?” 

You’re squirming underneath him trying to look anywhere but him, “I’m not, it wasn’t—“ and he only hums, dragging a hand down your front, until he’s reaching your shorts, a brief pause to see if you’d pull away, but you don’t, and fingers pressing against your soaked shorts. 

“That why you’re soaked through your fucking shorts?” And the rough pads of his fingers grind against your eager hole, nearly swallowing you in, only the thin fabric of your shorts keeping his fingers from fucking you then and there, “least your body’s honest — so eager to get fucked,” and he’s teasing your drenched entrance, drawing his fingers back to have your pre like spiderwebs between the two digits. 

“Sukuna, please—“ and his lips curl. 

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll go,” a small whine left your throat, the throbbing between your thighs growing with the way his gaze undid you — unscrewed you by your hinges and watched you fall apart, only to ask you to put yourself back together. 

But you couldn’t. Not without him. 

“Sukuna—“ 

“I didn’t ask you to whine, are you going to answer my question—-“ 

“Fuck me,” the words fall from your lips as if possessed, and you can’t find it in you to regret them. 

And he smiles all the same. 

“About fucking time,” and his fingers meanly rub against your clit through the paper thin fabric of your shorts, “didn’t even fucking put on panties and you expect me to think you didn’t want me fuck you open,” and embarrassment burns at your cheeks, “did you get this wet from dreaming about me?” And no words come to your mind, and he gives you a sharp spank to your clothed slit, drawing a sharp gasp to your lips and slick flooding from your folds, “better use your words, woman,” 

“Fuck, please, I need—“ and his fingers practically rip your shorts off, letting your cunt gush onto the sheets. 

“Need me to fuck you that bad? G’nna beg this criminal to fuck you open?” And he’s toying with your folds, tugging your tight hole apart as his eyes rake over your pussy, exposed for him, “after all of your teasing, what makes you think you even deserve to be fucked? Maybe I should leave you like this, fingers buried in your cunt, wishing they were your neighbor’s uncle’s,” and a sadistic smile graces his features as it only can his, “fuck yourself for me,” 

You whimper, as his fingers leave your hole, clenching around nothing as if begging for his touch, “what? But—“ 

“Fuck yourself until you cum, wanna see what you’ve been doing when you’re fucking me in your sleep,” the absence of his touch leaves you keening and needy, for something, anything to get you off. Want overcomes inhibition, and your shaky fingers find their way to your cunt, fingertips tracing the outer lips, a gasp you barely recognize as your own when you rub against your clit, “c’mon girl, gotta open yourself up for me — think I’ll fit if you just rub yourself like that?” And he’s pressing his clothed erection against your thigh — and he’s fucking big — rock hard cock rubbing against you through damp damp sweatpants. 

And his fingers grabs your own, guiding them to your slick hole, letting them slip past your fluttering walls, while his own teased your outsides, “Good girl,” and the praise makes your walls clench, and he’s chuckling, “want to be a fucking good girl, then fuck yourself until I see you cum for me,” 

You swallow your whines, beginning to move your fingers in and out, your insides clinging to you, as if begging for something longer, thicker, better — and you knew his fingers would be. A moan falls from your lips, and he clicks his tongue. 

“Gotta be rougher than that,” and his fingers curl around the base of your own, using your fingers as a glorified fuck toy. Your head lolled back, as he controlled the pace of your fingers, fucking you hard and fast, reaching places you didn’t think were possible with your fingers, “that’s it, you’re close aren’t you? Like being fucked with your own fingers, don’t you, you slut?” And you’re shuddering, soft cries and moans filling the silence of the night with the loud squelch of your cunt. 

“Sukuna, f-fuck, ngh, I can’t—“ and he only begins to rub on your clit with his thumb. 

“Yes you can,” he gruffly chuckles, murmuring in your ear as he leans forward, “cum on your fingers like you have every night for me,” and he forces your gaze to meet his as your fingers brush that one spot that has your back arching, “say my name,” 

And you do, cumming hard around your fingers, as he uses them to fuck you through your orgasm, the wet noises of your folds growing louder as your thighs shake. Your eyes meet his, glassy with tears from your high, and Sukuna leans down to lick the salty tear from your cheek. 

He pulls your fingers from inside you, your sticky cum coating your digits and even dripping onto his own. He smirks as he eyes them, before sliding them into his mouth. A moan pulled from your lips as he sucks your essence clean from them, tongue dragging up the length of your fingers. 

“Shit, that was a nice moan,” and his eyes fall back to your drenched cunt, “Still so fucking tight,” he clicks his tongue, Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly? G’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

he hums, taking in your ruined state — tear stained cheeks, your dripping cunt, and your red ruined lips from biting them, “so fucking pretty like this,” and you hear him shift, the distinct sound of his phone camera, making your eyes snap open. 

“No, fuck, no don’t—“ and he’s turning the screen around to show you how absolutely fucked you look, “please—“ 

“It’s a little too late for that, can’t have anyone buying your little virgin act anymore huh?” he’s grinning as he leans forward, pinning your thighs in place as you try to squirm away, “don’t move,” 

His order makes your muscles tense, unable to move your body under the heavy grasp of his hands splayed against your hips. The pads of his fingers dig into your soft flesh, as his lips dare closer to your weeping slit. 

“Fuck, are you a virgin though? You’re still so fucking tight even after that little show you put on for me,” and he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his breath warming your twitching cunt, “either way, you won’t be one soon,” and he’s burying his mouth in your pussy. 

You moan, covering your mouth before he sucks on your clit, tongue teasing your hole open, a wave of heat flooding your body. The sounds of his licking and slurping fill your ears — and you wonder how the whole house isn’t awake yet. 

You can’t stop your hips from nearly fucking his face, but he spanks your thigh, hard, as he pulls his mouth from your dripping slit, “I told you not to move,” and he spanks your clit for good measure, making you yelp against your fingers, “tell me when you’re about to cum,” and you whimper, “or I can open this door and let the house hear us,” 

You nod, but he doesn’t miss the way your slit twitches at the thought, and his mouth curls in a nasty smirk, “such a fucking slut, maybe I will,” and he’s plunging two thick fingers into your greedy cunt, a gasp ripped from your throat at the intrusion, walls fluttering as they attempt to accommodate his digits. But it’s all squeezing and barely any stretch, as his fingers work you open. 

And it doesn’t take long to get you worked up, his digits knuckle deep and dripping wet, “gonna fucking break my fingers in two with your virgin hole, girl,” he grunts, your body burning with his touch alone, nails dragging against your walls, curling so they can bully that sweet spot just right, “you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” the telltale squeeze of your cunt tells him so, and you’re nodding, and his fingers slip from inside. 

You’re whining, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, “Please, fuck, wanna cum,” the pleasure that had built was throbbing, a dam close to bursting but denied its relief, so it remained, begging and waiting — “please, Sukuna—“ 

“So you do know how to beg like a good little whore, gonna fuck you again, but you can’t cum until I tell you,” and he’s sinking three fingers into you now, eyes rolling back as your back arches, but he’s fucking you meanly, curling and twisting his fingers, until the pleasure is a tight knot in your belly, barely hanging on from snapping, “wait,” he grunts, and it’s as if your warmth is made for him — or now it was, because he’s made it his, “wait,” and you’re sure he’s reached your cervix somehow, fingertips reaching places you’ve only dreamed of (literally), and then he leans down lips around your clit as he orders you, “now, cum,” 

And you do, hard, as he sucks around your clit while fucking you through your orgasm, cum flooding his fingers and face alike, drenching him, even as he slurped and sucked up every bit. 

He finally pulls away, a shiver slips down your spine as he slips his fingers from inside you, pink tongue flicking against his lips, still slick with your cum, What a fucking mess you’ve made,” he sneers, but he’s licking his lips clean all the same, “should make you clean up the mess you made, shouldn’t I?” And he’s pressing the pads of his fingers to your lips, you’re too fucked out to fight, lips parting with ease, “suck,” and you do, opening wide to let his fingers inside, lips and tongue curled around the same fingers that had explored your cunt. 

He watched as you obediently sucked every drop of your juices off, a trickle of drool slipping down the corner of your lips makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants, and he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth. 

“Better than your dreams, huh, sweetheart?” he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, he can’t fucking wait a minute longer, “turn around, gonna fuck this slutty princess cunt from behind,” but you only can watch as he tugs down his sweatpants and boxers alike, his cock slapping against his stomach. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you had imagined. Mushroom tip red and hard, as pretty veins run up the sides, and he was looking as if he’d not only split you open, but break you all together. 

Your thighs quaked at the thought, more slick slipping from your needy cunt — and you wanted him to.  

Your knees shake, as you turn slowly, much too slowly his pace, and he grunts, his hands gripping your hips, as he flips you onto your stomach, a yelp leaving your lips as you bounce on the mattress. “have to fuckin’ do everything myself for this whore’s pussy,”

You’re gripping the sheets, nails surely tearing holes in the thin fabric of the sheets, as his calloused palm comes down on your ass, hard, the smack echoing in the silence of the night, a mewl you don’t recognize as your own, “Sukuna, please, I can’t—“ 

“You can, you’ll take whatever I give you, brat,” and another smack finds your ass again, as he pinches the flesh for good measure, drawing another moan from your lips and another chuckle from his, “and you’ll take this cock too,” and he doesn’t spare you a moment as he presses his swollen, dripping cockhead to your drenched hole, smearing his pre all over your ass — as if to erase any doubt you were his, because there wasn’t — before finally sliding in. 

God, fuck. 

Your arms were already shaking, barely able to hold yourself up, but your face nearly plants into the mattress as he sinks into you — he was too fucking big. Even all the prep he had given you was nothing, nothing compared to how much his dick was stretching your cunt. 

He hummed, as your insides swallowed him eagerly, even with the slight resistance of your tight little pussy, watching as your walls parted for him with almost practiced ease, sucking him deeper and deeper, as if you were made for him. And you would be, after he fucked your cunt to his shape again and again — because this was far from the last time he would take you. 

It was only the first. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight — am I the first to fuck this pussy?” he grunts, grasping your hips tightly, your warm, wet pussy wrapped around his dick — he had waited far too long for this, too many nights spent grasping at his cock, thinking how much better it would be buried in your pussy. 

“H-hngh, Sukuna, s’big,” you’re nearly babbling as he works himself into you, inch by inch, not even halfway in, and you were gonna cum just from him putting his dick in, “can’t fit—” and he’s scoffing, watching you squirm against his length, but he only continues to fuck his way into your tight hole, another sharp slap to your ass as a warning. 

“I’ll make it fit, girl,” he growls — like fuck he was stopping now that’s gotten this far, there was only one way this was ending — and it was with his cock fucking you full of his cum, “c’mon, did the dream not compare to the reality? Did you think I had a tiny dick?” and he thrusts shallowly against you, sending another inch inside your already stuffed folds, drawing a needy whine from your throat, “so fucking loud, you gonna let the whole house know what we’re doing at this rate,” 

he murmurs, bending down to your ear, and your walls squeeze around him, a vice grip that has him nearly cumming then and there, but no he won’t, not yet, “fuck, did you think about letting Choso know? Maybe I’d let him watch me fuck you, only way he’ll ever see you like this,” and you whimper as he slams into you, finally bottoming out as his tip bullies your womb, making you cry out against your fingers, “to think the pretty girl next door is on her hands and knees like a slut for me now, getting split open by my dick. What would Choso think?”

You’re whining, “Please, fuck, slow down—” but he only pulls out a little to piston back in, balls slapping against your ass as he does, setting a mean pace, as he chuckles in your ear. 

“You’re saying that, but we both know that’s not what you want — slutty fucking pussy trying break my cock in two,” the sounds of your skin slapping against you as his tip brushes against your cervix rings in your ear, even as he murmurs in it, “y’’know he wants to fuck you right? The little brat is always watching you, nearly fisting himself at the sight of you,” he’s forcing you upwards, pressing your back to his chest, “he wants you, but he’ll never have you, because this pussy is mine,” and his hand finds the bulge in your stomach, pressing down, as you keen, head falling back against his shoulder, as tears pooled in your pretty eyes, “but he’d never be able to reach here and fuck you like you want — like a whore,” his other hand pinches and teases your pebbled nipples, before sliding up to your neck, squeezing lightly, “say you’re mine,” 

You can’t find the words, all of them fucked out of your body to make room for his cock seemingly — the only words remaining his name and “please,” but you have to do better than that, and he slows his pace to nothing, as he pulls out so only his tip teases your entrance, a whine leaving your pathetic mouth.

“If you’re not mine, guess I don’t need to let you finish, do I?” and you’re shaking your head, frantic and repentant. 

“I’m yours, i’m yours, Sukuna, please—” and he’s sliding right back into you, fucking you harder, balls slapping against your ass and sweet cunt swallowing him up to the base, a white ring of your pre cum forming around it — and he just knows you’re close, by the twitch of your sweet pussy — and his hand reaches around to rub at your clit,  “I’m—” 

And he ruts into you, hard and deep that you’re sure his length brushes against your womb — and you’re cumming, falling apart around him, but he doesn’t relent — but had he ever? He didn’t relent over these past few weeks, and he wouldn’t now, not until he was filling you up and watching his cum drip out of your hole—

You’re slipping back forward, face forward into the pillow and mattress, as he grunts watching your slick drip down your ass and thighs and onto the sheets — his balls tense with his release, “Fuck—” and that’s all the warning you get before he slams back into you to bottom out, as he blows his load. 

His release is hot as it fills you up, never ending it seems as he slowly fucks you through his orgasm, his spurts slowing with time, until he’s finally stilling, a soft grunt, as he pulls himself from inside your warm cunt. A soft groan at the sight of his seed spilling from inside you — you’re boneless and spent, until he has you jolting forward from the press of his fingers gathering his cum and stuffing it back in. 

“Kuna, fuck, I can’t—” and he scoffs, retracting his fingers for a moment, before he’s deftly flipping you onto your back, “too sensitive,” you whine as his fingers work their way back into you. 

“Did you think I was done, woman?” and his softening erection is already standing tall again, and you’re almost wanting his fingers now at this point, even as your body disagrees, pussy squeezing at the thought of him buried inside you again. He leans forward, lips brushing against yours, a kiss full of nothing of tongue and teeth, the faint taste of your own release on his lips, “we’re far from done.” 

The sound of your name catches your attention, your eyes snapping up from your breakfast, “what?” 

“Are you okay? Choso frowns at you, as he holds his rice bowl, the rolled tamago sliced on his plate, “you look tired,” It was another morning like always, but 

You shake your head, “I just didn’t sleep well, I kept waking up from my dreams,” and it wasn’t exactly a lie — yesterday was the culmination of a million dreams you had. Dreams that only ended when the sun began to come up, with his cock still buried in your cunt as you rode him, back pressed to his chest, as he worked you up and down his dick. 

And finally when he came again, this time all over your back, he finally pressed kisses up and down his back, easing himself out, as his toned arms engulfed you. 

“Should clean up and I should head to Jin’s room,” he murmurs, “I have a feeling I won’t have a place to live if he finds me in here,” and you chuckle, too fucked out and tired, “we’ll have to get used to sneaking around. 

“Oh will we?” you had mumbled, and he answered your question with another bruising kiss to your lips. 

Yuji tilts his head, scratching it, as you lift your glass to take a sip of water, mouth far too dry now, “Is that what those noises were? It sounded like you were having nightmares,” and you nearly choke on it, but force it down, hoping the embarrassment wasn’t evident on your face, stabbing your egg. 

“Yeah, I had a couple last night,” you lied, and even as you suddenly found your breakfast far too interesting, you could feel Choso’s gaze still on you — your cheeks burning as Sukuna’s words about him still rung in your ears — along with the distinct ache between your legs and on your ass he left behind, “I’m fine, I’m just going to need a nap,” 

“You’re not the only one, girl,” Sukuna walks into the kitchen from the rooms, as Yuji and Choso balk at his presence. 

Choso’s eyes narrow, “What are you doing here?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sukuna’s eyes find yours, the corner of his lip pulled upwards, as his gaze rakes over your form, “what’s for breakfast?” and you knew he only wished that you were the thing placed on the table for him to eat. Jin barely pays any mind, too preoccupied on his phone with his work email, as he passes a plate to Sukuna. 

“When did you even get in?” Yuji asks, as he finishes his own breakfast, leaning back on his two palms. And your insides begin to tie themselves in knots at all of these questions — knowing Sukuna would like nothing more than to tell them exactly what he was doing last night. 

“And where did you sleep?” Choso glares, adding fuel to the fire, as Sukuna looks down on him, lips a thin line,  “you didn’t bother our guest, did you?” and your cheeks burn all the same, a flicker of amusement on Sukuna’s features, lips parting only for Jin to cut in.

“He got in early this morning. He slept in my room,” Jin says with a sigh, “Don’t you two have to get ready? You’re going to your mom’s this morning,” 

“She’s not my mom,” Choso grumbles under his breath, “more like a leech,” but he still gets to his feet all the same, as Yuji follows suit, picking up their plates, a comforting hand on his older brother’s shoulder. 

“I should get to work,” Jin sighs, sparing a sharp glance at his brother, “behave,” and he turns to you, “feel free to stay as long as you want. Yuji and Choso will be back this afternoon,” 

And the three of them find their way out of the house, a rush of bags and feet, as Choso spares a glance at you. 

“I’ll be back soon — you can hang out in my room if you want,” Choso says, before scowling at Sukuna, “let me know if you need anything,” and you nod, waving him off, and the door shuts behind them all. 

Sukuna slides into place beside you, sitting as the two of you eat breakfast in relative silence. You finish up your meal, and move to get up, but Sukuna’s hand finds its way onto your thigh, holding you in place. 

“Are you done?” and you glance at him, plate empty and food untouched, “with eating?” 

“I am,” you raise an eyebrow, “And you?” 

“My appetite wants something else, sweetheart,” he leans forward, fingers inching higher until his thumb grazes your inner thigh. 

“And what’s that?” and he nearly growls his next words, thin patience already tearing in two, just as he would your clothes if you weren’t careful. 

“I’m done playing coy, woman,” he’s lifting you with ease, slinging you over his shoulder as you gasp, and he’s gotten you on top of the counter, the very same counter you had baked cookies on the day he had arrived, but now his hulking body was quickly pressing your legs apart, “there’s only one thing I want to eat in this kitchen, and it’s between your fucking thighs.” 

“Not sick of it yet?” you chuckle. 

“Think I could bury myself in your slutty pussy for days and not get sick of it,” and he looms over you, just as he had that first day, and he leans down to kiss you, stealing the logic from your mind and leaving only the need for his touch behind, “it is the sweetest thing I ever tasted after all.” 

“Really?” and he smirks, as his fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts ripping them and your panties down, the cool air against your already wet cunt. 

“Want me to prove it?” 

And oh, he would. Again and again. 

✧ a/n: i have a problem. i really wanted to write something with degradation ok?

✧ taglist: , @k0z3me , @monstrousbuu , @abiiebibie , @strawmariee , @luciiferslover , @sxnkuna , @psychxbby , @addehehe , @cpu1d , @dreamtardisspace , @authorintheshadows666 , @arcielee , @trxnmagic , @smilk01 , @abcdbleh , @elisaj313-blog , @jinslunv , @n3ptunxe , @pinkyvomit , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @rat-loves , @spider-fan72 ,, @niks1673 , @lafffyyytafffyyy , @miseraa , @astraxa-xx , @fushitoru , @hanxyy , @milky-milkyway , @nakariabnrb , @johannakhalafalla , @tojicvmbucket , @flyingtranscatofeffed , @vampzys , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @k1ttybean , @catsgomurp , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @forest-fruits-jam , @mua-for-now , @pricetagofficial

[sunni-stuff]

Simon Riley who has a Daddy kink 🤧

Tags; Daddy kink/Rough sex/Afab

Imagine being in bed with this man, fucked so hard on the mattress you sleep that you can feel it up your very spine. All you can do is whine and whimper underneath Simon, who molds you into every position he loves you in. Never on your stomach, he needs to see that pretty face, has to hear you babble on about how he's too deep, how you're so close.

"Say my name, princess." Simon grunts, his balls slapping against the soft skin of your ass, his hands wrapped tightly around your knees as his cock buries itself deep inside your cunt.

"Mmmf–fuck, Daddy!" You squeal out when the head of his cock nudges a particular spongy spot that sends you shivering from your head, down to your curled up toes. Tears pricked the side of your eyes, threatening to roll down your flushed cheeks. You closed them only for a second, just a second.

"Good girl, taught ya well." Simon hissed, a dark edge to his voice as he plunged into you with near brutality, showing you no mercy but the mercy of pleasure. The wet sound of bodies clashing filled the air, mingling with your moans and the distant roll of thunder.

Your little whimpers and pleads were like music to his ears, fueling his carnal instincts. His large hands, rough from combat, yet delicate in their craft, maintained an iron grip on your knees as he moved—his eyes locked on the sight where you were joined—a sight that turned his blood into liquid fire.

"You can take it. I know you can." He demanded, his words heavy and hot against your feverish skin. "Open those eyes for me, now." Simon towers of over you, lips curling with dark delight.

[screampied]

if requests are open, can we see nanami x breeding kink? i know he would be the perfect daddy 💕

❤︎ ໋𓈒 husband nanami finding out he has a breeding kink.

warnings. fem! reader, mating press, breeding kink, praise, soft dom nanami, mdni.

breeding.

he wouldn’t even know he had such a kink until afterwards, finishing inside of you for about the third time with hot puffs of air running from his lips.

his eyes, dark brown pools that intently stared into yours, he’s in utter love with you and only you. your current position was supine—your legs would be perfectly sprawled and spread for him. mating press, such a deep and thorough angle. so deep to where you were practically seeing stars.

“… you drive me crazy, you know that?” he’d huff out lowly between rough breaths. you stare at him with glossy eyes, a hand softly clinging onto his wrist. he was always so gentle, deep yet precise strokes to make you feel every inch. such eyebrows of his curl up and furrow as he intakes a single sharp breath, the feeling of such thick ropes spewing inside your walls makes him groan. “always s—so good at milking me.”

sloppy hips thwack and drill into you, and that’s when he leans right up close to you—you’re met with lust filled fawn eyes and a needy smile.

“ah. eyes up here, wanna see that pretty face,” and his tempo was so unhinged. you glance up at him and he mutters off a soft, “hi my love,” and you could have just melted right there. nanami lightly presses a hand against your tummy, a thumb swiftly tracing near the exact spot where he was reaching you inside. so full, you moan before he leans in to kiss you, yet instead, he conceals his own whine into the crook of your neck. “this—tummy would look so pretty if it was nice ‘n round for me like last time.”

the very corners of your lips tugs, it outlines into a sweet pout before you whimper, “make me fuller then, kento,” you’d heave out. he was jackhammering such merciless yet tenderly passionate thrusts into your cunt, effortlessly smacking back against you. “wanna f-feel fuller.”

you had the white bed sheets bawl into the palms of your hands. everything felt so warm, his hips just continued to rotate and jerk and jerk and jerk. it was hypnotic, he knew just where to prod the head of his cock right against you.

you’re nearly drooling. just imagining such lengthy ropes of his pump you full. you wanted it, no—you needed it. desperately, you were practically being fucked into the mattress—the mattress in question creaked and sang in such harmony it was hard not to ignore its sounds.

the entire feeling, you were clamping down on him so tight that his jaw tenses. a simple sight like that was oh so sexy in the slightest, nanami lightly bites down on his lip. a cute flushed expression slowly painting over his face once he catches you still staring. he was chasing his own breath, giving you slow yet perfect full vivacious thrusts.

“k-kento,” you’d moan with a slight gasp, he brings a hand to slide your arms all the way up. it’s almost teasing, the way he makes you hold your hands high, a soft simper rests against his lips the entire time. your legs quaver, feeling how easy it was for him to stretch you out. his touch, it was blisteringly hot, blisteringly tender.

he made sure to delicately trace his fingers all over your skin. he wouldn’t dare miss a spot. not with a body as perfect as yours. that’s what he saw in his eyes anyway. “so—so goooood, don’t s-stop baby.”

“wasn’t gonna,” he huffs out, and his voice was so raspy and rich. a subtle coarse of baritone hidden underneath his deep tone. you peer up at him and he leans in to kiss the tip of your nose. “if my princess wants to feel more full, i’ll do just that. give her anything she wants.”

you whimper, feeling him hit such a sensitive angle, he hit it just right too.

the crown of his dick made its way through every crevice of your walls. he reached in spots that you didn’t think he’d reach — not at all, you failed to hide your moans by this point and he thought you sounded so cute. knowing he was the one to make you sound like this, feel this way, it made him happy. that’s all he wanted, your pleasure was his pleasure.

every. single. spot.

whilst your toes curled, you feel your back start to seemingly arch on its own before even more sweetened whimpers fly past your sheeny lips. “give m-me,” you started to speak. he raises a brow marginally, brushing a thumb against your lower lip before feeling himself about to bottom out. at that point, he was fully inside, you felt it and you only mewled out a candied, “give me another baby kento. please.”

“oh,” he softly murmurs, and his tongue playfully licks against your neck—a sweet lap, he savored your taste before teasingly starting to nibble.

“gonna give you triplets this time,” and he brings a hand down your chest, then towards your stomach, real slow. you moan once he gingerly lifts up your leg before giving your ankle a kiss. “this what you want, sweetheart? more of this? more of … me?”

“yes,” you pout, feeling your cunt just swallowing his hefty shack, his base smacks back and forth against you to where you’re almost giddy. you felt like you were on cloud nine, nanami’s strokes, his thrusts hell, his enticing rhythm had you nearly speechless. you let off a soft meek once the shivering cold metal of his watch band slithers against your skin.

the more he touched you, the more close you became to making yet another mess on him. of course, like the good husband he was, nanami would happily clean you up.

“y-yes, kento,” you repeat in a honeyed voice, by this point, your legs were well wrapped around his waist. fully having him in a secure lock, not ever thinking to let go, you couldn’t nor did you want to. he drove into your gummy walls so good that you let off the sugared most melodic moans right up against his earlobe. “want…..another baby.”

“i know you do,” he hushes, bringing a chaste kiss towards your collarbone. you swallow a thick imaginary lump that grew into your throat. only tiny squeaks would come out — you moaned, tightening your legs hold around him before you started to picture such fanciful things.

fanciful things like nanami pouring yet another a thick load into you, and as you’re deep in thought he’s doing just that. a gasp gets caught in his lips before he leans up close to you. his broad chest presses up against you before he groans. out of all the notorious enemies he’s had to fight, he was simply no match for your pussy. its grip had him being the one with his eyes nearly rolling back.

“f-fuck,” and you felt yourself throb, making direct eye contact with him. it was rare, yet hearing nanami swear was so infrequent.

it was the way he swore, spewing out such filthy words underneath his breath. long ruffled strands of messy hair nearly occluding his view of vision. he reaches to move some of his hair away from his face, just so he could get a good glimpse of you—a good glimpse of his wife.

“look at me,” he says in a soft tone, he was buried so deep within you, you saw how his muscles tensed and his jaw tightened. he made his hips come to a halt completely before he leans in to gift you with another kiss. “mwah,” he smooches near your jawline, “mwah,” near your chin, and a final kiss near your lips.

your heart, it fluttered.

nanami felt warm all over his body, as well as the sheer warmth that coated him from being inside you. “i—i love you,” you’d whine, feeling such massive velvet ropes of cum going all inside of you. he merely lets off a purr at the way the back of your heel skims down his back. “so much.”

“i love you,” he returns it. his mouth briefly opens, and he was about to say ‘more’ but he pauses. nanami’s weight was still hovering over you before he brings a same big hand down towards your tummy. “now, we wait. you’re such a good mommy for me, sweetheart.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

fixation

in which you love spencer reid's hands so much you could... well, you could practically eat them. or at least let him put his fingers in your mouth.

18+ (fluff, suggestive) warnings/tags: finger sucking...lol....., established relationship, ummmm d/s adjacent dynamics, like softdom spencer but there's no sex, pet names, teasing a/n: this was inspired by @gublersg1rl who said 2 nights ago she would suck spencer's fingers as he was reading a book. my beautiful angel with so many great ideas in her beautiful head. anyway this will not be my magnum opus in terms of quality but its just a fun short little thing I hope u like :D

Spencer is reading. 

He got home forty five minutes ago, and he’d hugged you and he’d kissed you—and they were good hugs and kisses, but as you sit curled on the opposite end of the couch from him, watching him read, it doesn’t feel like enough. Three days isn’t the longest he’s been gone, but you missed him like he was gone longer. And now, he’s not truly ignoring you—but he’s not giving you enough attention. It’s unintentional, but it’s making you feel all kinds of needy and overly-affectionate anyway. 

Especially when he’s so gorgeous. Ankle crossed over knee, lithe fingers skimming over the page to keep track of his place. Those hands are truly distracting. It’s unlike you to be struck by such wildly inappropriate thoughts so out of context, but here you are, having been without him for days, practically feverish on the couch as you imagine all the things they could do. All the things they have done. The way they've traced down your bare spine, up your side, so lovingly in the middle of the night... how they've touched you elsewhere...

And... that's enough.

Despite the whole committed relationship thing, you still feel a bit scandalized picturing him like that. And you know from experience these thoughts will only get worse if you stay over here, staring at him, wanting him, so you crawl across the couch and under his arm, settling your head in his lap and looking up at him expectantly. He chuckles—a quiet, dry thing, that says he’s only partially surprised by your behavior. 

“Well hello,” Spencer says, taking one hand off the book to settle on your leg. 

“Hi.”

For a moment he just studies you, affection seeping into his eyes along with the humor already there. “Can I help you?”

“Mhm.”

His brow darts up. 

“With what, baby?”

Baby. Your whole body tingles. He only calls you that when he’s feeling especially soft toward you and your whims. In turn you soften, and you both become rather mushy. 

Unfortunately your brain is not excluded from melting, and you look up at him helplessly. 

“Um…”

Spencer’s hand falls from your knee, taking an unnecessary but appreciated route down your thigh and up your stomach before settling on your cheek. He brushes away a few baby hairs before two knuckles begin drawing soft lines from the corner of your mouth up toward your ear and back again, and your stomach becomes a hail of butterflies. He’s got this soft smile on his face and you love him so much and he’s so sweet and perfect, you could just—

You’re not thinking very clearly when you tilt your head, angling your chin up until you catch his fingers against your lips. His eyes remain on yours as he traces the shape of your mouth with those same two knuckles—until you’re slowly parting, obstructing his path and offering a very different kind of invitation. Spencer’s eyes narrow fractionally and you watch the way his focus changes, the way he only tests the waters at first, letting the tips of his fingers trace the length of your bottom lip, before barely tugging down just enough to feel the soft warmth of the border of it. They skate over the ridge of your teeth and find the tip of your tongue, at which point you can’t help from closing your lips around his fingers, eyes fluttering contentedly as you draw them deeper into your mouth. His brows draw together, and those pretty pink lips part soundlessly like you’re the eighth wonder of the world in a way that has your thighs clenching. You hear the book shut and fall carelessly to the side table. He doesn’t even bother saving his place—too busy bringing that newly freed hand to your hair and combing gently against your scalp. 

It’s strangely calming to have him like this—he’s undeniably with you, undeniably close, against your lips and tongue. All your worries about his distance dissolve and you feel incredibly comforted. With his other hand, his thumb begins stroking a line from the bridge of your nose up your forehead, and you could pass out. 

“Comfy?” He asks after a long moment, slowly withdrawing his fingers from the heat of your mouth. You pout. 

“I was.”

Spencer hums, eyes soft on you. “I don’t think I should be nurturing your oral fixation, angel.”

“You didn’t like it?” You challenge, turning your head inward to nose at his stomach. He  cups your cheek with damp fingers and pointedly turns your head outward again. If he wasn’t so blushy and flustered and cute you might’ve cared more about the feeling of your own spit on your skin. 

“Don’t make it about me.”

You allow a minute to pass in silence. 

Fine.

“I liked it,” you say shyly. 

Spencer’s response is deeply fond as he smiles down at you. “Did you?”

Like he couldn’t tell. 

“Mhm. You should let me do it all the time.”

His smile flickers wider the way it does when he’s about to tease you. 

“I don’t know if you deserve it. I don’t know if you can be good all the time.”

You make a face. “Shut up.”

“Is that what we say when we want something?” Before he can pull his hand away, you nip at his fingers. He laughs. “You’re off to a terrible start. I think you need to work on your manners. Not bite the hand that… goes in your mouth.”

“Is that the saying?”

“I’m pretty sure,” he nods sarcastically, helping you up until you’re sitting across his lap. He lovingly tucks hair behind your ear, eyes warm as they flit across your face up close. “You know, that was incredibly unhygienic. So much bacteria it boggles the mind.”

“Yeah? That kinda turns me on.”

Spencer leans in to kiss you sweetly, choosing your mouth over his worry about bacterial transmission. “You are so psychologically concerning,” he whispers against your lips. You sling your arms around his neck. 

“Because of the bacteria thing or the oral fixation thing?”

His hands settle on your hips. “Both, lovely. For so many reasons.”

It’s only another tease, but you pull back anyway so he can see the full force of your pout. “Don’t say that. It’s mean.”

“I was kidding! It was a joke. I was joking.”

“It was mean.”

“Okay,” Spencer begins, patient and happy to untangle this ridiculous snag if that’s what it takes to make you content again, “Freud’s psychosexual stages of development are contentious at best. I’m not worried about your oral fixation because I don’t really believe in such a thing. I was just teasing you, but I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“So you’ll let me do it again?”

Spencer pulls you back into another kiss. 

“You’re kind of insatiable, you know that?” 

When you don’t answer, only wait for him to respond, he sighs goodnaturedly. 

“You know you can have any part of me whenever you want it.”

You give him a winning smile and kiss his cheek in reward. 

“You’re so nice, Spence.”

“I thought I was mean.” 

“Now you’re nice.”

“Because you got what you wanted?” You nod enthusiastically. He seems not quite as thrilled, though perhaps distantly amused by his own helplessness when it comes to you. “Yeah, I feel like that happens a lot, doesn’t it?”

But it clearly doesn’t bother him that much. He’s still smiling when you kiss him again. 

[luveline]

Jade can I please get a chatty af yapper sunshine girlfriend with Sirius?? Like May be someone tells her she talks a lot so she's super quiet around him cuz she's worried he'll get annoyed and break up with her but poor Sirius he misses his chatty girl and just angst with fluff

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.4k

James Potter means well. Honestly, you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body, so you try not to take it to heart. 

Unfortunately, your attempts to do so don’t work. They really, unquestionably don’t. By the time you’re outside of Sirius’ flat that afternoon, James’ small comment is all you can think of. 

“You’re so chatty I’m surprised you don’t run out of breath,” he’d said. Not without love. You’d bumped into him in Sainsbury’s and ended up talking for ages about one thing or another, you know him well, you’d even say you were friends, though he’s of course Sirius’ friend rather than your own. “But I’m the same. God, Sirius used to hate how much I talked, he’d be sick of me. I think I numbed him to it over the years.” 

You can’t imagine it. Sirius and James are best friends. With Remus, they’re the most in love threesome of friends you’ve ever met, and it’s nice; it makes you very proud to have a boyfriend who cares for others as deeply as Sirius cares for them. It’s like a constant demonstration of how he’s a good man. 

But you’d never stopped to consider that they weren’t always so seamless, and you’ve regrettably never considered that your constant talking is something that could put him off. 

You talk to Sirius about everything. There isn’t a word to describe the excitement of having someone waiting to listen to you every single night. You could tell him every detail of a day down to what colour socks you wore and you know he’ll sit there listening with his hand on the small of your back, or his fingers twined between yours. You’ve never felt so loved as to be able to just talk about everything and have him talk back. 

But… what if, this whole time, he’s been wishing for a little bit of quiet? 

What if eventually, the talking becomes too much? 

He must be with you for a reason. You aren’t holding the poor guy hostage, he acts like he’s mad for you ninety percent of the time (while the other ten percent is spent sleeping on your shoulder). 

Like now —you knock his door and you can hear him scrambling up from the sofa, the sound of a book dislodged or a remote hitting the rug, you’re not sure. The door yanks open and Sirius smiles at you, pulling you in through the gap with a familiar hand on your hip. 

“Hey,” Sirius says, tucking you against his side, “hey, did you get lovelier over the weekend?” He shoves the door closed and gives you a hug with one arm, pausing in the hall. “Sorry I couldn’t see you. I don’t think we should miss another weekend.” 

You have a lot to tell him. It’s been ages since you spent nearly three days apart, but James’ conversation stays at the front of your mind. 

You decide to be less overwhelming, but not less loving, curling your arm behind his head to pull his cheek down for a kiss. “I don’t think so, either.” 

Sirius tilts his head away from you in an invitation for more kissing. 

You’re at home in his flat. You take off your shoes and hang up your jacket. You change into a pair of jogging bottoms with loose legs and let him hoist you onto his bed for a few stolen kisses, though he isn’t propositioning you, and you end up laying across his bedspread with one of your legs in his lap as he tells you about his days without you, his thumb sliding with pressure down your calf. 

“Mostly I wished I’d asked you to come over anyways, even if it was just to sleep together at the end of the day. Maybe next time we can do that?” he asks. 

“Of course we can.” You smile at him indulgently. “I’d come over for twenty minutes if it was all I could get.” 

“Or I can come to you,” he says, “even if it’s just twenty minutes.” 

He smiles, a beaming thing, and leans down slowly for a soft kiss. 

“So,” he asks, his breath on your lips, “how was your weekend? Lonely?” 

“So lonely,” you tease lightly, eyes fluttering closed as he continues his massaging of your leg. “But it was okay. I missed you, really, and didn’t do much else.”

“No?” he asks. 

Your voice takes on a shine as he squeezes your knee, “Missed your hands.”  

“I missed your everything.” He grabs for your forearms and pulls you into a sitting position. “But everything was okay?” he asks more seriously. 

“Everything was fine.” 

He raises his eyebrows, but eventually lets them relax. “Well, okay. Good, sweetheart, I’m glad it was okay.” 

He persuades you into the kitchen to sit with him as he makes dinner, refusing to let you help, and yet insisting you be there in the same room, as though you’d like to be anywhere else. Sirius makes your favourite of his usual rotation, offering you spoonfuls for tasting, gaps of silence stretching as he struggles to find new conversation. You start answering his questions but remember time and time again that Sirius could become totally sick of you. He might already be. 

Sirius puts the food on a low heat and washes his hands. He wipes them dry, but when he takes your face, dampness lines the inside of his fingers. 

“I’d like for you to tell me what’s wrong,” he says gently, stroking at the line of your startled frown, “before it gets worse. Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Please don’t, lovely. If I’ve done something wrong, please tell me. I want us to last forever, and we can’t do that if you won’t tell me when I upset you.” 

“It wasn’t you,” you say instinctively, then regret it. 

“So someone has?” he asks, still so gentle as his hands coast down your neck like he’s sculpting you, coming to rest on the slopes leading to your shoulders. “You can tell me anything. You don’t have to keep it to yourself… please.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Sweetheart.” He frowns deeply. Couldn’t look more upset. “Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

You chew it over, not wanting or willing to cause ructions between Sirius and his oldest friend. “Well, I saw James today at the shop, and… we were talking about you…” 

He waits. “And?” 

“And he told me you– you don’t like talking. That you didn’t like talking, that James used to make you sick of it. So I know I talk too much and you’ve never made me feel like I shouldn’t, but I guess I got into my head thinking you’d get sick of me, too.” 

“When we were younger I didn’t like much of anything.” He curls an arm behind your neck to hold you in place, but it’s not a dominant sort of movement, only protective as your noses inch together. “Did you ever read that poem by Bukwoski? Let It Enfold You?” 

“What?” 

“I’m not very good at explaining myself. I thought if you knew the poem, you’d–” He laughs near your cheek. “I hated everything. It wasn’t James’ fault. He did make me sick of it sometimes, but I just wanted to hide from everything.” He breathes out slowly. “I’ve never wanted to hide from you. I can’t get sick of you. Do you get that? I can’t get sick of you. Listening to you is the best part of my day, you’re my personal chatterbox.” 

“Chatterbox,” you repeat teasingly. 

“You could talk for Wales,” he says. “And I love it, I don’t want you to stop, because I’ll never be sick of it.”

“I don’t want it to be some secret resentment.”

“I don’t resent you for anything. I knew exactly who you were when we met and I love it.” He takes your face again. “I love it,” he repeats. 

You steal a little kiss against the corner of his lips. “What was the poem?” you ask. 

“I’ll find my book, and you can read it to me. What do you think?” He takes a slow kiss as you had in the same place, words like honey. “I miss your voice.” 

He’s basically pleading. It’s not like Sirius to plead, but you pull it out of him. 

“Can I have my dinner first?” 

“The one I made while you deprived me?” he asks. “Yes, if you must.” 

He takes another kiss, but you’re happy to give it. 

[mrsbarnesblog]

firewood

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Lumberjack! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When you decide to chop wood in your backyard, your hot neighbor, who happens to be a lumberjack, offers you some help.

Word count: 4.8K

Warnings: +18❗️smut, hot neighbor bucky is a fucking warning, kinda size kink, rough sex, protected sex, dirty talk, pet names

Author's note: this is one of my favorite works, so I hope everyone who hasn't read it before will like it too (it's hard to not fall for lumberjack Bucky, tbh🤷‍♀️)

“Hey, do you need help?” You stopped what you were doing. You breathed heavily, your arms ached, and you were already sweating. The man, your neighbor, whom you already saw a few times when you arrived home, was standing before you with his hands in his jeans pockets. 

He was attractive. Really handsome. Probably 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders and visibly a lot of muscles under the clothes. Yeah, that red henley left nothing for your imagination. His dark hair was put in a low bun, and he had a little stubble on his face. But you mostly noticed his bright blue eyes, which looked straight at you very attentively.

“Sorry, what?” You said as you wiped sweat from your forehead with the sleeve of your shirt. 

“I asked if you needed help. Sorry, but it seems like you have some troubles.” He smiled at you almost shyly, and you couldn’t even make yourself mad at his words. 

“Um, It’s my first time doing it.” You awkwardly smiled back, finally putting a big ax to the ground. “But I need wood for my fireplace, so I have to work with what I have.”

“I see… but don’t you have a boyfriend or a husband? I mean, it’s not really easy to do for a woman, and you seem pretty... petite for this?” It almost sounded like a question. “I wanted to say that I can help you if you allow me, because that thing might be really dangerous if you don’t know how to work with it, and I'm a lumberjack, so... it’s not a problem for me.” He awkwardly started to rub his neck. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“For a woman?” You playfully arched an eyebrow. “So you think that only men can do this?” You saw how his eyes widened, and you tried to hold your laughter.

“No, no! That’s not what I meant!” He lifted both hands in the air. “It’s just gonna take you forever to do, and as I said before, It’s not the safest work. And since this is my job, I could’ve helped you. As a neighbor, you know?” 

“Relax, I’m just joking.” You softly smiled at him. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Y/N.” You reached out your hand. Bucky’s face relaxed, but then his lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“I like you.” He said, as he shook your hand. His grip was tight, and you felt that he really did a lot of physical work with his hands.

“Oh… thanks?” 

“Soo, do you need help?” He asked again.

“Um, honestly, I don’t know. I can’t just let you work for me for free. Can I pay you?”

“Doll, I have enough money, and I don’t need yours. I don’t think that you need tons of firewood, so it would be easy work for me.”

“Okay, but maybe I can give you food? Pastry? I really love to cook, and everyone said that I’m good at it.” You nervously played with your sleeve while Bucky was staring directly at you.

“Deal. I would honestly die for homemade food, ‘cause last time I ate it was at my ma’s and I really miss it. But you don’t have to do this, okay?”

“And you don’t have to help me.” You shot back.

Bucky’s smile grew wider, and he started shaking his head. “You have some temper, doll... Friday is okay?” 

“Yeah, totally, any time you’re free.” 

“Deal. I should probably go, and you better start training to cook food for me. I am really picky, and you insisted on paying me with it.” He said and started to walk back.

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed. “I know what I’m doing; don’t underestimate me!” 

“Fine. See ya, doll.” Bucky waved at you with the biggest smile on his face and finally walked away.

Well, it’s gonna be interesting. 

For the next almost two months, Bucky had been “working” for you, and you paid him with your food every single time because you couldn’t leave that man starving after he just got home from work and then willingly helped you. 

You two got closer. Bucky was a really good man; you found out it while you were sitting in your backyard looking at how his muscles were moving with every swing of the ax. He was right that it wasn't a big deal for him—the job that you would’ve been doing for several hours he did in twenty or thirty minutes. 

The conversation with Bucky was easy, he was a pretty reserved person, but he still told you everything about his job and his friends and asked you things about your life. It was hard not to fall for him. Especially when he gave you this boyish smile every time it was time to say goodbye or when you brought him your homemade food. 

Usually he comes to your house every Friday after work around 6 p.m., but today it was already 8 and he still didn’t show up. There was no light in his windows either, so you became really worried that something serious had happened. 

You were nervously sitting on the bar stool in your kitchen while your dinner was getting cold on the stove. You really had no appetite. What if he got injured from his dangerous work? Or maybe you were just overreacting and he went on a date with someone? You really had no reason to be worried that much because Bucky probably didn’t even think of you as a close friend, and you were just a too dramatic person with attachment issues. 

The light knock on the door scared you a little bit, but you still jumped out of your seat to open it. 

Bucky was standing there, visually perfectly fine and without any injuries, and you sighed with relief. 

“Bucky, oh my god, hi. Are you okay? I was really worried about you, and I don’t even have your phone number to text or call.” You mumbled as your eyes studied his face. 

“Hey, doll.” Bucky softly smiled at you, but it was obvious that he wasn’t really in the mood. “I’m fine. Just a shitty day at work. My boss went fucking crazy over nothing, and it was just a mess.” He ran a hand through his long hair. “But I have to do your firewood, so I'll go change and be back in a few minutes, ‘kay?”

He started to go back, but you caught him by his wrist. “No, Buck, wait. You don’t have to do it right now, really. I have enough wood, and you’re really exhausted. Come in; I have fresh lasagna and chocolate muffins.” 

“Um—are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to.” He mumbled. You noticed that you were still holding his wrist, but decided to leave it that way. 

“Don’t worry, I have enough food, and you look like you really need it. C’mon, don’t you want to eat something homemade and still hot after a bad day at work?” You gave him your best smile, and it was obvious in his eyes that he already agreed to your idea. 

“Okay, we can do that. Honestly, I feel like I’m able to eat a fucking elephant.” 

You both shared a laugh before you almost dragged him into your house and closed the door. Only at that moment did you realize that even though you gave Bucky a lot of food, he had never been at your place before. For some reason, you felt really excited to feed him and spend some time together. 

“Sit here while I’m heating the food.” Bucky obediently took a seat, looking with a soft smile at how you were moving around in your little kitchen.

You looked so domestic and soft in the warm yellow lights of the room in the cute pink cotton dress with little flowers all over it. The concentration was written all over your face as you tried to perfectly set plates and cutlery on the table and then put steaming lasagna on it.

“Fuck, it smells so good; you’re going to kill me, doll.” He wasn’t able to handle the amazing smell of food right in front of him. 

Your cheeks heated, and you waved your hand at him. “It’s just lasagna, Buck; don’t be dramatic.” You took a place near him, and you both started to eat your food. 

“I’m not being dramatic. I already told you that, besides my ma, you have the best food in the world. I could’ve eaten it three times a day for the rest of my life and not gotten tired of it.” He took another big bite, moaning as the taste filled his mouth. 

“You’re making me blush. No one ever told me this.”

“That’s my intention, doll. What, none of your boyfriends complemented your skills? Because I would’ve put the ring on that finger way too fast.” You looked at each other for a few seconds until you noticed that he had already finished his portion. 

“Do you want more?” Ignoring his previous words, you stood up and took his plate to give him some extra food. The dress gently flew around your thighs, drawing Bucky’s attention to your legs when you turned around. “Anyway, what happened at work? You mentioned your boss.”

“Ugh, Pierce is a fucking dipshit. Everyone there hates him, but he has too much money, so we can’t do anything. Me and Steve have really been on bad terms with him since the first day. He tries to tell us how to do our work, but his head is so far up in his ass that he can’t even listen to what we say.” You returned to your place and put a plate in front of Bucky again. The frown took place on his face while he was talking about Pierce, so you put a hand on top of his without even thinking. 

“He sounds like a total asshole. I’m sorry that you guys have to work for him.” Bucky’s face softened at your action. He flipped his hand so he could interlace your fingers, and you felt the warm feeling all over your body. 

You both definitely felt something, but you still stayed silent, enjoying the connection. It was obvious that you had feelings for each other. It was just hard to admit out loud, and, honestly, Bucky was so scared that you might think that he did all of this just to get into your pants. Which is not true. Well, he doesn’t mind, but it’s not his only intention. He wants to treat you right and ask you out on a date. 

Back then, he felt so bold and offered to help you with the firewood with the hope of getting to know you better. Steve and Sam obviously knew about his new “work” and teased him about it all day long. Unfortunately, he still didn’t find the right moment to ask you out. Those times when he came to you on Friday evenings and you were watching him work in your cute dresses or little pajamas were Bucky’s favorites. You looked so soft, cozy, and domestic that he wished to see you like this every day. 

After the last piece of a chocolate muffin disappeared in Bucky’s mouth and he let out a moan of satisfaction, he sat in your kitchen with closed eyes and a smile on his face. 

“If I had to have a shitty day just to get this type of meal at the end of the day, I’m ready for it.”

“Bucky!” You laughed at his dramatic words. “You don’t have to have a bad day. I can feed you just because.” 

“Well, you said it yourself. Now you won’t get rid of me.” You both laughed. Then he suddenly got up and started to put plates in the sink. “You sit, and I’ll wash the dishes.”

“No, Bucky, that’s not how it works!” You got up and caught him by his bicep. Really hard and big bicep. 

“Yes, it is. You’re cooking, then I’m cleaning.” He tried to get away from your grip to turn on the water, but you only held him stronger, now with both of your hands on his arms. 

“Bucky.” When he was standing so close to you, you realized your size and height difference, and it made you shiver. You turned your head up to look him in the eyes. “You are my guest; you shouldn’t do this.”

“My mother taught me to always help women because they are not our maids.” He stepped a little bit closer. “But if you’re saying this only because you want me to leave, I can do that.”

You were both looking at each other, and what you saw in his eyes made you weak in the knees. 

“No, no, I don’t want you to leave.” Your hands moved higher and fell on the sides of his neck. It was everything Bucky needed to finally kiss you.

Two large and rough hands took your face to bring your lips closer to Bucky’s height. He was gentle yet so passionate, and he slowly moved his lips against yours. It was mind-blowing how desperately you wanted him to devour you, to destroy you. While your hands were discovering his broad chest and shoulders, you felt that your body was suddenly lifted in the air and then placed on the kitchen counter.

Now that Bucky didn’t have to lean over to your height, it was easier to kiss you properly. His tongue brushed over your lips to ask for entrance, which you happily gave. Bucky felt too addicted to your taste, your smell, and the feeling of your smaller body against him. It drove him crazy.

“I've wanted to do that since the day I looked at you.” The hands on your hips tightened and moved you closer to his body. “You look so pretty, God.” Bucky’s eyes are running all over your face, trying to memorize every little thing.

“Bucky...” You dragged him closer again, desperate to connect your lips. His large hands wandered all over your body, slightly pulling up your dress and then moving higher and cupping your breasts in them. “I thought you were tired.” His large erection was obvious through his jeans, and you wanted to tease him. 

“I’m never tired for you, doll.” He mumbled against your lips. “I could’ve fucked you right on this table, but I’ll leave it for the next time. Where’s your bedroom?” You didn’t miss the promise to fuck you again, and your body felt ecstatic just because of this thought.

“Up the stairs, second door from the right.” 

Bucky didn’t say a word before your world suddenly moved, and you ended up hanging from his shoulder. Your bare ass was probably right near his face, and you couldn’t help but blush. 

He stormed up the stairs with one hand on your thigh, as if your weight on his shoulder was nothing, and then walked into your main bedroom. 

You were thrown onto your bed, and Bucky stayed in front of you for a few seconds to remember this picture. Swollen lips, eyes full of need, a short dress that pulled up and showed a glimpsing of your white underwear. Yes, you were perfect, and only for him. 

“Come here, Buck.” You raised your hands in his direction, and he obediently climbed on top of you with a smirk on his face.

He sat between your legs, moving his hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs.

“Such a pretty doll for me, in this cute lil’ dress, mm?” His body was hovering over you, and when he found a zipper on the back of your dress, you ended up lying under him only in your white lingerie set in less than a minute. 

The pair of the most beautiful blue eyes devoured your naked body as soon as the piece of clothing was removed, and you had never seen a man look at you this way. Like you were the most beautiful, delicious, and priceless thing in the world. Bucky’s hands gently touched your body from the shoulders to your legs, and you swear that you heard a moan while he was doing it.

“Sweetheart.” He mumbled and leaned to gently kiss the soft skin of your belly, moving with little kisses higher until he reached your lips. “You’re killing me, you know that?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Barnes.” It was impossible to think straight when his pretty face was right in front of you and his muscular body pushed you deeper into the mattress of your bed. He kissed you as you asked, but it didn’t last long before he pulled away with a grin on his face. You gently brushed his brown locks out of his face and tucked them behind his ears.

“So bossy, dollface... Do I have to fuck this attitude out of you?”

“Mmm, undress, and we’ll see what you are capable of.” You shot back at him, and he just moved away with a smirk on his face. 

In a few seconds, a red henley was thrown somewhere on the floor, and you were face to face with a body that was probably made by the Greek gods. Muscles on muscles, with tanned skin and freckles from the work under the sun. Now you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

“Like what you see?” His smirk became wider as he saw the look on your face: slightly parted lips and darkened eyes that were looking at him up and down. Bucky's hands went straight to the belt of his pants, and with the last movement, he was standing in your almost dark bedroom completely naked. 

You almost choked on your saliva when he pulled down his pants and boxers at the same time. He was thick and long, with an angry red head. 

“No way this is gonna fit me…”

“It will, doll. I’ll take care of it. I bet this pretty little pussy will just suck me in.” 

It was over for you. You knew that. A handsome, respectful man with a perfect body and dirty mouth? Yes, he can do whatever he wants with you.

He returned to your bed, sitting in between your spread legs. He didn’t waste any more time when he reached behind your back and unbuttoned your bra. Bucky stood on his knees so perfectly that his dick landed on your covered pussy, and it made you both moan out loud. 

“Look at this, doll. ‘M gonna destroy her.” His hips slightly moved, and because your panties were soaking wet, it was so smooth and perfect. “Can you imagine that? I will stretch you out so well that I’ll ruin any other men for you. Make you–and her– mine.” He reached with one of his hands to your tits and squeezed your nipple between his fingers, while the other one was keeping your legs apart so he would be able to move his hips. 

You tried to close your legs by instinct. The tip of his cock again and again brushed right on your clit, and the slight pain from your nipple made you desperately moan and clench your bedsheets.

“Are you going to cum, pretty girl? Im not even inside of you, and you’re already a fucking mess.” Bucky’s rough voice was so sexy that it made you even wetter, if that was possible. He saw that you were close: by the way your breathing changed and how your eyes rolled back in your head. “C'mon, just let it go. Soak those panties even more.” His movements on your most sensitive parts of the body didn’t stop, and it threw you over the edge.

You were squeezing around nothing, and the most inappropriate and dirty moan escaped your mouth. It was something that you'd never experienced before, and it was so intense that you needed some time to get over it.

“Good girl.” Bucky grabbed your face and connected your lips, giving you another wet and sloppy kiss. 

Then, without hesitation, Bucky’s hands took off the last piece of your clothing, leaving you completely naked for his hungry eyes. He stared at your body up and down for a few seconds and then closed his eyes to take a deep breath and calm himself down. 

“Bucky, please, I need you so much.” You almost cried, trying to grab him and put his body on top of yours, but Bucky was much larger than you, so it was almost impossible.

Bucky finally calmed down a little bit, and he interlaced his right hand with your left, pinning it above your head. His body softly landed on you, and skin-to-skin contact sent shivers down your spine. He was now looking you right in the eyes, and judging by his facial expressions, he either wanted to fuck you lifeless or cuddle and hold you closely.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Bucky’s soft side came out again, and you slightly nodded, giving him permission to continue. The little silver square appeared in his hand out of nowhere before he ripped the package with his teeth and put a condom on. 

You honestly tried to hold back the little bit of disappointment you felt when he decided to use protection. It was smart. You weren’t longtime partners, it was a question of your safety. But the tiny voice in your head told you that you would’ve let him fuck you without it. To feel his perfect d–

Your thoughts were cut off with a deep chuckle. “You look like you’re sad that I put on a condom, doll.” You swear that his eyes darkened when you stayed silent. “If you want it later, I’ll fuck you raw, ‘kay? But now neither of us can think straight.” 

“Are you a perfect man?” You laughed.

“I don’t know, let’s find out.” Your smile faded as soon as you felt the head of his dick at your entrance.

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so when Bucky started teasing you again, rubbing you up and down to cover himself in your slick, you nearly lost it. 

“Bucky, please.” You whine, grabbing the side of his torso with your free hand. “Don’t tease me, please, I can’t—” 

Your words died as Bucky finally pushed inside of you. Your head fell deeper into your soft bed, and Bucky’s body tensed on top of you, trying to hold back a deep moan. 

It was overwhelming. He stretched you out so deliciously that you felt pain and inexplicable pleasure. No one ever made you feel this way—like you were on cloud nine and the man on top of you didn’t even actually fuck you yet. 

“You’re squeezing me so hard that I might cum like a teenager—fuck!” He groaned, squeezing your hand harder. “Relax, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You tried to relax as much as you could with a dick buried deep inside of you, and Bucky was finally able to move.

Well, if it felt good earlier, then the first movement of his hips probably sent you right to heaven. Bucky cupped your face with his left hand, locking your eyes together, when he started thrusting at a slow pace. 

“So pretty for me, doll. You feel my cock in your stomach, huh?” Bucky’s lips almost touched yours when he talked, but it felt like he was too far away from you. “Good girl, take me so well. Knew that this pussy would be my death.” 

“More... harder, please, fuck me harder.” You spoke in between moans, gazing intently at Bucky's pretty face.

He started fucking you harder. Your bed was slamming your wall, but it didn’t bother you as much as the fact that he was hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You were a fucking whining mess under him, with a slightly open mouth and a drunk-looking face.

“Suck it like a good girl you are.” His thumb slipped into your mouth, and you moaned, doing as he said. “Your pussy is already sucking the shit out of me. Are you going to cum, baby? Going to make a mess on my cock while I fuck you? Imagine if I fucked you raw and filled you up with my load. I bet you’d like that.” The finger went deeper into your mouth, making you gag. You nodded your head as much as you could at Bucky’s words because you were already ready to cum.

“Give it to me, baby.” Bucky growled, sucking on your neck. His hips slammed into yours, making the nastiest noise, but it turned you on even more. A finger slipped out of your mouth, and Bucky’s face was in front of you again. “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“M-m, B-bucky! Don't stop, pl– ahhh!” The wave of the best orgasm of your fucking life washed over you. You swear the stars started dancing behind your closed eyes as you endlessly squeezed Bucky’s cock and his body.

The way you were moaning, how your eyes rolled back, and how your whole body trembled pushed Bucky over the edge. A few last movements in your soaking wet pussy and he came, feeling almost lifeless, as if you had sucked the whole energy out of him.

He let go of your hand, which this whole time he held above your head, and cupped your face with both of his hands, kissing away the tears you didn’t even notice.

“Y/N? Baby? Are you okay?” He whispered and moved your head a little bit so your eyes were directed at him. You looked like you were high or really drunk, but he couldn’t argue with the fact that you were the prettiest woman on earth.

“I– it’s like I don't feel my body anymore.” You lazily mumbled and closed your eyes. “No one ever fucked me like this.” 

“Glad to hear that, doll.” Bucky leaned closer and kissed your soft lips with more delicacy and tenderness. “Do you need anything? Food, water, bath?”

“No… Can you just hug me and stay here for the night?” You asked, now afraid that he would leave since he got what he wanted.

“Sure, just let me get rid of this thing, and I’ll still get you some water.” He kissed you on the forehead before carefully untangling his body from yours. You hissed at the new empty and a little bit aching feeling inside of you. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

Bucky threw a condom in the basket under your table and, putting on only his boxers, came down to the kitchen to get you a bottle of water. But when he came back, he saw that you had already fallen asleep.

You looked so cute—still naked, with a peaceful expression on your face, laying in the middle of your messy bed. He thought about whether he should disturb your sleep or not, but you asked him to stay, right? Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, but then came closer to you, placed the bottle on the nightstand, and carefully scooped you into his hands, pushing away the covers. He put you back down, and then you opened your eyes. 

“C’mere…” You mumbled, still sleepy, and grabbed his hand.

Bucky quietly chuckled and got under the cover, hugging you from the back. You happily sighed before drifting back to sleep. Bucky kissed you in the hair, hugged you harder, and fell to sleep with you in his arms.

You woke up a little bit disoriented, trying to figure out what happened last night. 

The bed beside you was empty, but the aching feeling between your legs proved that it wasn’t a dream. You, in fact, fucked your hot lumberjack neighbor. But where did he go?

You found some random oversized t-shirt and walked down the stairs. Everything was silent; your kitchen was empty but crystal clean. Did Bucky just leave? 

Wait a minute. 

Yesterday there was a mess from your cooking and dinner with Bucky.

Now the room was almost shining. 

You looked around in confusion until you noticed a piece of paper on the table. 

All of your bad thoughts disappeared as soon as you read it, and you felt butterflies go crazy in your stomach.

[suguann]

tags. fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, stupidly domestic, little wife kink in there somewhere, nanny reader, single dad gojo, breeding kink [18+ only]

You sometimes find yourself wistfully imagining having a family of your own—a soft and sweet little bundle to cuddle and someone strong and capable (competent) at your side. But you can’t think of the last time you’ve been on a date where that person had the same interest in something more serious than casually sleeping around. 

Nannying seemed like the natural conclusion, especially when you’re still settling in a new city and barely scraping by for rent and student loans for a degree you don’t use. 

You pick up a few jobs just to get a feel for it: parents going away for a honeymoon, a last-minute call-in, a weekend business trip. Then a friend of a friend says she makes enough to afford one of those picturesque apartments that overlook tall high-rises and iridescent lights, the very ones you’ve dog-eared in real-estate magazines.

All it takes are a few phone calls and an interview until you’re packing up your apartment and taking the freeway outside of the city to somewhere remote and expensive, your car looking almost out of place parked beside the shiny new one in the long driveway.

You rap on the front door before you lose your nerve, and a few moments later, it opens, and you’re unsure who looks more out of place: this man with a smile too big, dressed for work, immaculate suit dampened by the baby rag slung over his shoulder and what looks like drool on his crisp collar, or you in your scuffed shoes and second-hand store clothes, standing in front of the nicest house you’ve ever seen.

“The nanny?”

“Yes,” you mutter, licking your lips. “That’s me.”

“Good, Ren just woke up from his nap,” he says, opening the door a little wider with a creak. The darkness behind him is almost comforting.

You take a deep breath and pass over the threshold into his home.

The entire time, his hand stays on the small of your back to steer you toward the nursery, and a shiver threatens up the length of your spine.

Three months. That’s how long it takes before your employer poses a problem.

It’s not that he’s a terrible boss; in fact, he’s quite the opposite. He lets you take over one of the many spare rooms in his massive house, pays you double the regular rate, and gives you time off when you ask for it.

It also helps that Ren is cute, only a year old, and still so sweet and tiny. 

Perfect.

The problem lies in that you know what he sounds like first thing in the morning, that he knows how you like your coffee, that he helps you fold laundry in the living room while the baby naps, how you catch him staring anytime you hold his son—his expression shuttered, a foreign thing that you can’t read. It’s all so terribly domestic. 

Terrible in that you think it’s a horrible idea to develop a crush on your boss, that you can’t help but get flustered anytime he so much as looks your way, even if it’s fleeting. How a sleepy smile before he retires to his room for the night can turn your thoughts into a scattered, ill-defined mess of what they used to be until all that’s left are words like spun sugar melting on your tongue.

But also, it’s not normal, at least not from your experience. 

You were lucky in the past if your employer even wanted to know about their kid’s day. Barely saying hello once they walk through the front door before sending money to your bank account.

Satoru—because that’s what he asked you to call him one afternoon while you were in the middle of feeding Ren mashed banana, a lazy smile curling the edges of his lips after you say it for the first time—wants to know everything: what Ren ate, if he laughed, how your day was, if you finally got your hands on that book you’ve been meaning to buy. 

“You don’t have to ask about my day,” you tell him shyly, accepting the glass of wine he proffers you after spending the past hour trying to put a teething baby to bed. “To make me feel better, that is.”

“Would it be so bad if I said I want to? You live here, too.”

You try to separate the two: that he cares as your employer and not for any other reason, and how you sometimes catch the soft look in his eye whenever he looks at you could make you believe otherwise.

Cool fingers cup your chin gently, thumb caressing the top of your cheek, now close enough that you catch a few of the warm notes of his cologne, a move that’s probably very inappropriate between a boss and an employee.

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

You swallow, nodding, slightly shaky, breath caught in your chest. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He retreats to his office before witnessing how those two words knock the wind out of you.

He starts saying things like our shopping list, our car—because he gave you the keys to the SUV parked beside his car and hasn’t touched it since; for you and the baby, he said, plus it’s terrible on gas when I drive it to work—our house, our baby. You don’t think he means to do it; it's more of an easy slip in conversation.

But then, one morning, he’s rushing around the kitchen, hair still damp and smelling like his shampoo, as he grabs his coffee and briefcase from the counter, kissing Ren’s forehead first…and then yours.

You’re half convinced that you imagined it—that his lips hadn’t stayed there for a second longer than necessary—until he straightens his tie and heads out for the day with a ‘be good’ tossed over his shoulder, and you’re left wondering if he meant to say that to you or Ren.

It sets off a chain reaction of thoughts whirling away in your head, leaves you wanting and wondering—only ever allowing yourself to fantasize a little when the house is quiet and dark, the baby monitor humming on your nightstand, and images of your boss flit behind closed eyelids as you fit your hand underneath your soft sleep shorts.

In the morning, you worry he can tell what you did, his smile almost too sharp, too something—more teasing than what you’re used to—his hand resting on your lower back as he leans down to kiss Ren’s chubby cheek while you make breakfast.

“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll be late. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?”

No, you think, there’s no way he knows.

You spend most of the morning cleaning and folding the array of graphic onesies Satoru has a penchant for dressing Ren in, and the later half walking around the pool because it’s warm and Ren enjoys splashing around in the water. It’s enough to tucker him out for bed early, unable to keep his eyes open while eating a plate of mashed potatoes.

It’s also the first time in weeks that you have the night to yourself, no baby keeping you busy, no Satoru to—well.

After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom, moving into the hallway. And there are many reasons why you felt confident walking the few steps it took to reach your bedroom. Most revolve around what Satoru told you that morning, so you don’t expect him to be standing there, shirtsleeves rolled up, piercing gaze sliding down the length of you wrapped in a towel and little else.

“I brought home those drunken noodles you like,” he says when his eyes focus back on your face, his whole expression softening into a smile.

A beat. “Thank you,” you whisper, unable to look away.

He tucks the wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll join you downstairs?”

The noise in your brain goes static.

You’re unsure what causes it, but everything changes when he comes home early one afternoon and finds you and the baby napping in the nursery. He has this soft look on his face and something else you can’t decipher with his piercing blue eyes settled firmly on you.

Ren coos softly into your shoulder. 

When Satoru picks him up and settles him in the crib, then walks you to your room—here, let me help you—and when he hovers in your doorway, you let him in without question.

He doesn’t waste any time peeling off your clothes, eager to have you naked and splayed out underneath him. You cum on his tongue more times than you can count until you’re silently begging him to fuck you.

He laughs, large hands spread over your tummy. 

“Use your words, baby. I’m not a mind reader.”

You feel like you’re someone else watching you from somewhere else, another body rocking against the length of your boss’s cock, back arching every time you manage to find the friction you need. He’s hard against your back, thick in a way that makes you wonder if he did enough to stretch you out. 

“I-I want—”

All other thoughts are obliterated by the stretch and press of him against your cunt. 

“Think I’m going to keep you,” he rasps, lips dragging over your throat. “Keep this drippy little cunt spread open on my desk whenever I want while the baby naps. Would you like that? For me to fuck you full until you give me a baby.”

You clench, nerves shot.

“Gonna get all round with my baby, stay here forever,” he mumbles when he draws away, and you can’t tell if the words are meant for you to hear or slip out without him realizing. “Fuck—breed my little wife until it takes—”

Your eyes roll up, lost in the little promises he paints across your skin, body shivering over and over until you’re sobbing from it until he has to clamp a hand down over your mouth—shh, you’re going to wake the baby—going limp when he finally cums, pressing as deep as your body will allow, as if he can somehow imprint himself there. 

Wonders if maybe he’s been building up to this moment all along. 

It’s so easy to lay there after, blissed out while he litters kisses across your face and collarbones, letting him lift your hips up to slide a pillow underneath, even though the position is awkward when he tries to cuddle you afterward.

His fingers draw shapes on your stomach, giving you a wistful look, like he can’t believe he’s laying here with his cum still dripping between your thighs—no matter how many times he scoops it up and pushes it back inside you. “Do you think it’ll take?”

And you don’t have the heart to tell him about the little foil packet of pills tucked away in your nightstand.

[crushmeeren]

just imagine taunting touya or katsuki while having sex… asking if he can handle you… telling him he can’t make you cum

i am losing my mind 😭 i love ur works!

friend, this is…. diabolical. I LOVE IT. [and thank you.] /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

༝ ᭝ ༝ brief warning for some degradation used by touya. ༝ ᭝ ༝

master list link. ༝ ᭝ ༝ @pixelcafe-network

༝ ᭝ ༝ katsuki ༝ ᭝ ༝

This is something I can see very clearly happening when you first start having sex with Katsuki.

It’s the third or fourth time. The burn in your thighs worsens the longer you bounce on Katsuki’s cock, and sweat beads in the valley between your tits, trailing down your sternum.

Surprisingly enough, it didn’t become like pulling teeth to convince him to hand over the reigns.

Now, you brace your hands on his firm, flushed chest, supporting your weight, and roll your hips back and forth in his lap. The tip of his cock presses firmly against your g-spot, and you’re rewarded with hot sparks of pleasure bursting in your pelvis with each slow circle of your hips.

Katsuki’s fingers dig desperately into your waist, nails pinching your skin, and his breath catches when your pussy squeezes him. His lids flutter briefly and a low moan spills from his lips.

You grind slowly, studying the open and fucked out expression on his face. Then you grin.

“You sure you can handle me Katsuki?” You tease, a sweet heat curling up your spine when you deliberately push your hips back even harder.

Katsuki scowls, the pink blush on his cheeks turning scarlet. “Fuck you. I can handle you just fine.” He jerks his hips upwards to emphasize his point, cock sinking in even further.

Your small, delighted gasp dances in the air, pussy clenching on its own accord. “Pretty sure I’m fucking you. You already look like you’re about to cum. What, a big bad hero like you not gonna be able to make me cum this time?” With a smug smile you lean in close, nails biting into his pecs as you whisper. “I thought you were supposed to be number one at everything, Dynamight.”

Katsuki’s eyebrow twitches, jaw clenching tight as he grinds his teeth to dust.

“You think I can’t make that fuckin’ pussy cum, princess?” He asks hotly, grabbing a handful of your ass. The sharp sting of pain makes your pulse thunder in anticipation, the heat in your belly rising a few notches. “You’re gonna scream my name. Better yet, I’ll make you cry out for “Dynamight”, but he won’t save you.” A wolfish grin curls the corners of his mouth.

Your lips part in surprise as he shoves you off his lap, soft blankets cushioning your fall. He manhandles you like a rag doll onto your belly, yanking your hips into the air, looming over your back to shove your face into the sheets with hand to the base of your skull.

“Katsuki!” Your cry gets muffled by the sheets, a calloused palm raining down on your ass so harshly you’re certain his handprint will remain as evidence. He laughs meanly, readjusting his hips and pushes the slick tip of his cock to your pussy.

He clicks his tongue behind teeth in disapproval. “That’s not the right name, princess.” His voice is strained as he slides back inside you, bottoming out with a harsh smack of his hips against your ass. He plants one hand by your head and tangles his fingers through your hair with the other, yanking your head off the mattress. “Go on, cry out for Dynamight,” he murmurs in your ear, warm breath tickling your skin.

Katsuki draws his hips back, cock slipping out halfway, before brutally snapping them forward and filling you entirely.

“Dynamight!” You wail, the next breath becoming a choked off gasp.

His chest rumbles with a moan. “That’s what I was lookin’ for, such a good girl.”

By the end of it, you’re a jelly limbed pile of mush in his bed, voice scratchy from overuse. You’re never going to let him live down the fact that’s it’s so damn easy to get under his skin.

༝ ᭝ ༝ touya ༝ ᭝ ༝

Pushing your boyfriend to his limit usually results in being burned.

It’s not a secret that Touya is terrible at keeping his cool, hotheaded temper rising to the surface whenever you take it a step too far. But, to you, the ends justify the means. Especially when it comes to sex.

“Hell yes, fuck yourself back on my cock just like that baby. So goddamn hot,” Touya says through his teeth, one scarred hand resting on your tailbone to guide your movement. Your fingers fist the pillow supporting your head, cheeks blistering with heat as you work his cock in and out of your pussy. The hot, slick friction is amazing, but not enough.

You pant softly, frustration welling in your belly. “Yeah? It’d be even hotter if you put in any effort to make me cum,” you say with bite. Touya stiffens behind you, fingers suddenly grasping your hips with intent to bruise. He yanks you backwards, forcing a yelp out of you when the tip of his cock is shoved up against your cervix. You squirm with discomfort, but you can’t move an inch.

“The fuck did you just say?” His voice is coated in ice.

Yet, you keep digging your own grave. “You heard me.” You glare at him over your shoulder before turning back. “Seems like you can’t handle me,” you say arrogantly, resting your flushed cheek on the cool fabric of your pillow.

For a second, you think you may have stunned him. Then, the skin on your hips seems to start sizzling under his palms. It’s bright and searing, stealing your breath for a moment, and then you’re flipped onto your back within the next second.

Touya bullies his cock back inside you without another word, hand molding to the bottom of your jaw to keep your mouth shut. The look in his eyes is wild, a cruel grin on his lips when he leans in close until he’s a centimeter away from you. Your pulse thunders, kickstarting a rush of adrenaline.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are talking to me like that, sweetheart. But you’re lucky as hell I want to be inside your tight little pussy so badly.” He starts to shallowly rock his hips. “Otherwise I’d leave you alone and go jerk myself off.”

Your eyes dart across Touya’s face, his blue eyes bright with something like mania. Sick satisfaction curls in your chest, and you manage to keep yourself from smiling. He’s playing right into your hands, just like every other time.

Touya releases your jaw, hooking his hands under the backs of your knees and pushes until they sink into the mattress, folding you like a blanket. The angle makes it feel like his cock’s inside your stomach and you gasp, clutching at scarred wrists.

“Right there Touya, please!” You plead, back arching when he rewards you with a heavy thrust. Touya rolls his eyes, but he bends to your whim and picks up his pace. He smirks like he’s the one in control, lids lowering as his gaze stays glued to where he disappears inside you.

“My little whore,” he coos. “You’re not gettin’ any relief until you fuckin’ squirt for me, do you understand?” There’s no room for argument in his voice, and you nod, goosebumps littering your arms.

You’ll taunt him again and again and fucking again, if only to drive him up the wall and coax him into rearranging your guts.

[minus-plus-zer0]

Accidentally Sleeping Together

♡ Genre: Fluff, suggestive ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader (Imagine the bunny on the right is Bakugou, afraid of you waking up O-o)

Bakugou's arms curled tight around you, his sleepy fingers running across your skin rhythmically. It took his similarly sleepy brain a couple of seconds before he realized that this wasn't a beautiful dream.

This was real.

Bakugou leapt off you, his back slamming into his dorm wall. He rubbed the back of his head, swore several expletives at nothing in particular, and then assessed the damage.

You slept together last night. He didn't remember if it was an accident or if you two... did something, but his head was not 100% there yet in the morning.

You were even slower than him to wake, but he could see your figure rustling, and all he could think was "Crap, crap, crap, crap!" It was like he was pinned against the wall. Even if he had an easy exit route, he couldn't exactly walk out on you without proving his innocence first. Or making sure you were okay.

You finally opened your eyes, wiping them. Tentatively, Bakugou spoke.

"Hey, we need to--"

You shrieked and Bakugou cringed from the noise. You sat upright, whipping your head around like it was on a swivel, pure shock on your cute little face. Bakugou was the same amount of scared, but unlike you he was frozen.

"What did we do?!" you cried.

"I don't know!"

"Did we sleep together?!"

"I don't fucking know!"

Bakugou's heart was racing. The fact that you even considered sleeping with him as a possible event within this point of space and time just totally befuddled him. If this whole ordeal didn't screw over his chances with you, then his stupidly hopeful heart could take this as a good sign.

He chose his next words very carefully.

"Did we?" he asked, a little eyebrow cocked and his voice low.

You stared at him, the gears turning in your adorable thoughtless head. He wondered what things you were thinking right now. Your face was normally pure and innocent and cute, but your mind was typically evil and mischievous and always thinking of ways to prank and tease him, so it was hard to say what was happening in there at this exact moment. But being your best friend and all, he had some ideas of what you were probably thinking of.

He shouldn't be focusing on that right now though. Although you didn't look uncomfortable or creeped out, you were the type of person who'd struggle to voice your negative thoughts in a time like this. And as your best friend, Bakugou had to make sure you were okay. It was like, his calling in life.

"You alright?" he asked, snapping you out of your reverie. "I would never take advantage of you. You know that, right?"

"I know," you said, almost immediately. Bakugou was a little proud of your trust and your strong connection together.

"Are you okay?" he asked, again.

"Yeah, I'm okie dokie... Are you?"

You reached out to his face and he realized he had been blushing for some time now.

"I'm sorry," you said. "Did I scare you? Did I sleep here on accident? Can't believe I crashed in your room..."

"Don't apologize to me! Jeez. You're always apologizing to other people. I'm fine. I would never be creeped out by you. In fact, you've almost fucking dozed off here a couple of times in the past. You just don't remember 'cause I carried you back each time." That last part was a bit of a brag.

"Oh?" you cocked your head. "But you didn't tonight. Guess you were too much of a lazy little sleepy head yesterday."

"No more than you!"

That was how you both ended up grinning at each other, faces too close and somewhat red, but happy all the same.

If you weren't uncomfortable, if you were even smiling at him, Bakugou wanted to push things further. Your lips were only several centimeters away, and he wanted to close the distance. But he couldn't risk it unless he knew for sure you'd want him to.

"Had a good sleep, then?" he asked, voice rumbly and still low while his smirk never left his face. "After all, it's my bed."

"I would've, but maybe someone was hogging all the sheets." You mock glared at him, but you didn't back away.

"Well I bought them," he retorted. "Didn't think I'd get a new roommate tonight."

"Maybe I'll just steal your bed and then we won't have a problem."

"You're gonna steal my bed with me in it?"

You lightly slapped his chest and he laughed. You were laughing too, but dammit even if it was funny, he wasn't entirely joking...

Still, he couldn't say he was unhappy.

"Seriously can't fucking believe I woke up to you today," he said, letting some of his true adoration for you spread across his face. "Next time you sleep here, I'm not carrying you back..."

While he still had the chance, he needed to push things further, so you'd understand where he really stood on this situation. Bakugou had enough of all the near-miss kisses in your relationship. He wanted more.

Your hands cupped his face and he stayed put, obediently.

"You won't need to," you whispered.

His fingers grabbed your chin. "I don't ever want to."

And with that, he kissed you, finally.

[dollniu]

late nite spicy headcanons 🌃💋 — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS — short NSFW headcanons for ur pleasure 🎀

PAIRINGS — sukuna x f!reader, gojo x f!reader, nanami x f!reader, toji x f!reader, ino x f!reader, choso x f!reader, higuruma x f!reader

CONTENT — degradation, praise, blood play, oral, throat fucking, fingering, orgasm control, begging, masochism, sadism, raw (no protection, no lube), hickeys/marks, cyber sex, etc!

A/N — MDNI 🔞, if u have any characters you want headcanons of, lmk ! 💋

SUKUNA — “you’re my pathetic little play thing, doll.”

- there’s nothing sukuna loves more than seeing you at his feet, begging to be fucked, touched anything. and neglecting your desires only makes him crave you more

- he is absolutely cruel during sex, only using you as practically a sex toy and making you cum over and over again

- sukuna is loves torturing you, making you cry from overstimulation while he’s fucking you while you beg him to stop but he knows damn well that you want to be screaming his name alllll night

- he def has 2 dicks and he uses that shit to his advantage, double penetration EVERY. TIME.

- he bites. hard. like till you’re bleeding and he’s licking up that sweet crimson blood, savoring the taste of you

- sukuna calls you disgusting names, making you feel practically worthless and only living as his personal sex toy!

GOJO — “yeah? you want me to keep going? too bad, sweetheart.”

- gojo is the biggest tease you’ll ever meet, especially in bed. he’ll edge you for what feels like hours just to see you begging on your knees to cum

- he has a collection of sex toys he uses on you, a box sits besides the bed you share full of various dildos, vibrators, rose toys, you name it!

- whenever he has a bad day, you can tell just by the way he barges into your room and rips your clothes off. he doesn’t spare a second before he’s already inside you, fucking the absolute living shit out of you bc gojo likes it rough.

- he loves being overstimulated! whether it’s you bouncing on his dick, giving him the most toe-curling blow kob imaginable, or hand jobs that follow with him moaning your name, he fucking loves the dizziness and utter ecstasy of it

- there’s nothing gojo loves more than shower sex, or even bath sex! fucking you against the marble shower wall with the hot steam making it hard to breathe, he’s not stopping till he’s finished with you 🙏

- eye contact. whenever he stares down at you while he’s mercilessly fucking you and gazing at the mess he’s made upon him, it drives him absolutely crazy. he even forces you to look at him, grabbing your face while whispering in your ear “you’re mine.”

NANAMI — “i’ll be gentle at first, but i dont think i can control myself when you’re looking at me like that..”

- nanami has a breeding kink. cumming inside you and thrusting further into you just to see his cum spilling out of you is one of the best pleasures in life !

- hes very gentle and never wants to hurt you, but if you tell him to be rough.. oh he’s rough. like breaking the bed and making you cum five times consecutively kinda rough

- usually, he’s in his office working all day and usually night. so seeing an explicit photo of you with your tits out on deck will 100% make him call off of work just to go home and fuck the shit out of you

- he loves fucking you with your back on his office desk, looking down at you while he’s pounding you, seeing your eyes roll back from pleasure, it only makes him fuck you even harder 💋

- seeing you wearing nothing but his dress shirt sends him into an actual frenzy, something about you wearing his clothes never fails to make him hard. (usually leading to him eating you out from underneath the shirt 🤭)

TOJI — “such a filthy whore, taking my dick so good, huh?”

- toji is the KING of raw sex. like he refuses to wear a condom because the feeling of your pussy perfectly wrapped around his huge dick is fucking heavenly

- he lovesss throat fucking, ur head is basically the same size as his dick and he knows damn well you can’t take all of him but he makes it work 🫣

- hair pulling, this man will be fucking you from the back and pull at your hair to force you to look at him. “such a pretty little slut, you like it when i fuck you?”

- he will fuck you wherever whenever, if you’re in the kitchen? he’s fucking you on the kitchen counter. in the shower? he’s fucking you against the shower marble walls. in bed? he’s breaking the bed.

- he will leave hickeys and bite marks ALL OVER YOU. especially on your neck because he wants to make sure everyone knows that he’s yours and yours only. plus he knows all your sweet spots and the exact places that make you arch your back.

- loves getting his hair played while he’s eating pussy fr, he doesnt admit it cuz he says it’s embarrassing but he def gets a hard on from it

INO — “are you close? i’m close too..”

- ino is a switch, there’s no doubt about that. sometimes, he loves how overstimulated he gets when you’re giving him a blow job or a handy, basically begging you to let him cum. or he’s pounding you like it’s so tomorrow, making you cum over and over again.

- he’s very auditory, he becomes a complete babbling mess when he’s having sex with you which always results in low whimpers and moaning your name. yes, he is a loud in bed guys.

- he’s super experimental, he’s tried basically everything with you and wants to try more! he surprisingly liked getting fingered which he’s too embarrassed to admit but still begs for it in the end

- ino likes being called a good boy 😵‍💫

- he likes betting whos gonna cum first, which usually results in the nastiest roughest sex of edging and begging to cum and loud moans and pleads, his favorite of course

- he always makes you laugh during sex, like this man will put on a whole show because we all know his dramatic ass will not keep his mouth shut 😭

CHOSO — “please.. keep going— don’t stop please!”

- choso will do absolutely anything to make you feel good, he CUMS just from eating you out and hearing your sweet moans 💋 doing literally anything to make you scream his name is enough to make him die happy

- he’s a crier, like on his knees begging for you to let him cum with wet tears flowing from his eyes from overstimulation. he absolutely loves it when you neglect him of his wishes no matter how torturous it is

- he LOVES lacey clothing, whether it’s lacey bra and underwear sets, lacey sleeping dresses, he won’t be able to contain himself and fuck you right there on the spot

- orgasm control, one of his most loved (and hated) things in bed. whether it’s you or him, he loves it when you stop just before he’s gonna cum just for you to ride him faster and rougher 🤭 and if you’ve been a good girl, he might just let you cum too 🎀

- he can fuck you over and over again till your sopping, pathetic, overstimulated mess. like at least 10 rounds because he can’t get enough of youu

HIGURUMA — “you’re so good for me.. let me let you feel good too, hun.”

- we love our big nosed king, and as we all know what doja cat said— we riding his mf nose 😫 he loves it when you sit on his face with your thighs wrapped around his head, hearing the loud moans come out from you when he teases your clit with the tip of his tongue, absolutely glorious

- he WILL call you a good girl and shower you in praise and soft kisses, this doesn’t mean he won’t fuck you like a whore though!

- when he’s away at work, he’s usually gone all day all night— sometimes not coming home at all :(( because of this, having cyber sex practically every night has been beneficial because higuruma can’t stand not seeing you completely naked for a single day. jerking off on call together, seeing each other pleasure yourselves while dirty talking.. he can’t get enough of it.

- bath tub sex (without his suit on this time) is just what our hard-working lawyer needs after a long day. riding his dick in the hot steaming water.. he can’t get enough of how good you feel wrapped around his dick like that

[eunimaybe]

⟡ ── after an argument

hyung line x fem. reader | what they do to apologise after an argument

genre: fluff, est. relationship | wc. 0.9k ♡ a/n: this is my first writing ever so i'm not sure it's good but support is appreciated!! <3

lee heeseung

"y/n, i'm sorry."

even though it had been your boyfriend's apology you had so desperately wanted, you found yourself tilting your position ever so slightly away from him. you were still not ready to forgive him completely, not after the argument you two had yesterday. it was going to take much more than a simple sorry to win back your heart. the words he had said had been hurtful, and the day had been filled with tension that had only just eased a bit by heeseung's apology. — more under cut!

"y/n, please, i'm sorry for what i said yesterday. i know it was wrong of me. i don't know what i was thinking, saying stuff like that." heeseung tried again, resting his warm hand on your shoulder.

it was the tone of his voice that made you soften. you could tell he truly felt bad for what had happened. when heeseung noticed that you weren't shrugging his hand off, he immediately engulfed you in a hug, giving you soft pecks on your cheek.

"i'm so sorry, baby." he mumbled against the fabric of your hoodie, his chest pressed against your back and his faced buried behind in the crook of your neck. you leaned into his soft touch, smiling despite yourself and he murmured sweet nothings in your ear.

park jongseong

you were startled by the warmth of jay's presence as he stood close behind you, lifting your hair up gently before putting a necklace around your neck without a word.

"jay? what are you doing?" you asked, placing a hand on the necklace he had just clasped on, trying to get a look at it.

"it's a gift for you," jay said quietly, his touch lingering for a few seconds even after he was done with the necklace as if he was scared to let go. "i felt so bad for yelling at you last night. i'm so sorry love, i shouldn't have done that."

you had already forgiven jay for what he had said last night, though you hadn’t told him directly. it had mostly been your fault but you had still gotten mad at your boyfriend.

you saw a glimpse of a flash of gold from the reflection of the window, and you turned to face jay. "you didn't have to do that. it was my fault, bringing it up after such a long time when you were tired."

jay bent down to your height, giving you a warm smile before kissing you on the forehead, his hands around your waist.

"anything for my princess."

sim jaeyun

even though you had your back turned to your boyfriend jake, still annoyed about the petty little argument you two had had that morning, jake was clinging onto you more than ever. he had his arms around you, rambling random things and apologies over and over again. the topics varied, from funny anecdotes and random thoughts and he had said at least a million apologies.

“jake, i’m still mad. like really, really mad. and it doesn’t matter how many puppy eyes you give me because it’s not going to work.”

jake snuggled up even closer to you, and you tried to push him away, but he persisted. “i’m sorry, y/n, i’m very, very sorry.”

you smiled despite yourself, turning your head away so he wouldn’t be able to see the way the corners of your lips were curling up without permission. “i’m still angry.”

you could practically imagine jake’s pout and the kind of expression he was making.

“come on y/n, i’m sorry i ate your chocolate ice cream, i’ll buy you a new one today, i promise. i’ll buy you two.”

when he got no response from you, he hugged you a little bit tighter before tickling you, making you laugh.

"okay," you gasped between laughs, trying to get away from jake. "okay, but you better buy me that ice cream."

park sunghoon

when you arrived home, still upset about the argument you had had with your boyfriend sunghoon last night, you found a small white box waiting for you on your desk. it was carefully wrapped, laced ribbons and all. curious to see what it was, you put down your bag and unravelled the ribbon and gently opened the box lid to find rows of chocolate wrapped in pretty silver wrappers and a little note written in sunghoon’s handwriting. 

an apology note.

perhaps this was sunghoon's way of saying to sorry to you, your shy yet caring boyfriend. it was rather sweet, and you felt your anger melt away.

you immediately dialled his number on your phone, and it barely rang before he picked up. perhaps he had been waiting for your call, and that made you smile.

“uhm, i got the chocolate you left for me,” you said, reading the note he had written. “thank you, and i’m sorry for getting mad at you yesterday, i know you have a lot going on right now.”

hearing sunghoon’s soft voice at the end of the line was comforting. “you shouldn’t apologise, i yelled at you for no reason. enjoy the chocolates, i’ll be back soon. um, i love you.”

you smiled as you bit into the chocolate. "love you too. give me lots of kisses when you come back. i miss you.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed.  Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

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[undertheorangetree]

Tantrum

Summary- Art’s girlfriend sucks at tennis. He helps her feel better.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Stanford era Art. Exhibitionism. Body worship. Cunnilingus. Wee bit of fingering. P in V sex. Riding. The fluffiest giggliest sex you've ever seen. Me not knowing a damn thing about tennis.

Author's Note- Hi idk if you noticed but i have Challengers brain rot rn specifically for Art Donaldson :// As a theatre kid I simply had no choice it was always gonna be him. Read the full fic on AO3.

When Art had looked up at her with big pleading eyes, all but begging her to allow him to teach her the basics of tennis, she was in no position to refuse. It had been sweet, how badly he wanted to share his passion with her, the kisses he had peppered across her neck and chest in order to entice her into it, and she couldn’t so much as imagine denying him. Forget the fact that she had never held a racket in her life, that her strengths had always been rooted in academia rather than athletics.  If allowing him to teach her would make him happy, she would do it.

Though not without complaint.

She lets out a frustrated grunt as the ball hits the net- again- before turning her head up to glare at Art when he barely manages to stifle his laugh. He smothers it immediately when he catches sight of her glower, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as if he can physically wipe away his smile and she feels her teeth grind together.

“You can’t laugh. You’re the one who wanted me to do this so you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” she complains, her voice half petulance half hurt and immediately his face morphs into something more apologetic.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes his way closer but she simply rolls her eyes, turning her nose up when he reaches out to her. He takes it in stride. “I’m not laughing at you, you’re doing very well. It’s just funny to see you so frustrated.”

It’s her turn to laugh, though it is little more than a humourless bark. “I am not doing very well. I suck.”

He makes a sympathetic noise as he attempts to reach for her again. She allows it begrudgingly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as his hands close around her elbows, face dropping into her neck to press a kiss there. She thinks that he’s about to praise her further, try to coax her back into committing herself to the game, but he stays silent, continuing to lavish her with silent kisses.

She’s happy for the odd hour they decided to come here, the tennis court completely devoid of any other life. It’s a colder night than it should be for mid spring, the floodlights and moon the only two things to provide them with any light, and she’s grateful finals have chased everyone else away. She’s glad to have this time alone with him, despite her frustration. To feel like they are the only two people in the world.

“You’re just hitting the ball too hard,” he explains, face still half buried in her throat. “And you aren’t even attempting to aim. Putting everything you have behind the hit doesn’t make it a good one if you don’t know where you’re sending it. There’s more to tennis than just force, you have to be smart about it.”

She scoffs, reaching up to press her palm against his forehead and shove him away, ignoring the shit eating grin that’s made itself known on his face. “Just go over there and hit the damn ball. Before I leave you here by yourself.”

The grin doesn’t fade, his amusement more than clear, but he does as she asks, returning to his side of the court. She lets out another aggravated sigh as she returns to the position he had told her to wait in, knees bent as she waits for him to serve, realizing more and more that she prefers to watch him play tennis rather than do it with him. She finds far more joy watching him from the stands as he chases after the ball, sweat dripping from his curls and grunts echoing in her ears. Here, where she is the one chasing the ball like a damn dog and failing to send it sailing over the net when she does manage to catch it, there is no time to admire Art in his element.

She almost feels bad for her poor attitude, wishing she was less competitive so that she could simply enjoy this quality time with him, but every failure does nothing but enrage her further, sending her spiralling further into frustration.

Read the rest here :)

[quin-ns]

Knuckle Velvet (Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

Word count: 1.9K

Summary: Aegon is desperate for the love of the sister he truly wants, even if he has to take it

Tags: (18+), cw: non-con, cw: sibling incest, targaryen!reader, dark themes, choking, fingering, unprotected sex (obvi, it’s hotd times), hair pulling kinda, forced orgasm, aegon is lowkey pathetic but also threatening

A/N: first aegon fic. I’d been wanting to write for him but with the new season and him getting hotter (maybe he looks the same and I just got more into him idk) I had to write him

HotD masterlist + main masterlist

Aegon’s head weighed heavy on your lap, but even as your legs began to grow numb, you let him be. Your fingers lightly carded through his silver hair in the way you knew he wanted.

“I like it when you take care of me,” your brother had told you many times. It had to be the truth, given how often he’d seek you out just to curl up next to you.

Sometimes he’d sit like this, his head in your lap like some kind of dog, wanting his hair stroked and your words of assurance. He could fall asleep like this, or let tears slip down his cheeks. Other times he’d crawl on top of you and take the love he was desperate for. He could kiss away your silent tears, or muffle your cries with his lips.

Either way, he kept returning to you, begging for your attention and affection.

It might’ve been amusing, how weak he could be to you, if he wasn’t so terrifying at the same time.

Tonight, as Aegon muttered about his most recent council meeting, you thought perhaps you’d be spared his touch tonight.

“I should have been wed to you,” he muttered, voice holding onto a bitterness he had yet to let go. “I can stand your company and I already spend more time in your bed. I’ve suffered enough cruelty in my life, being allowed to marry who I please should’ve been a mercy I was granted. It makes no difference to our line.”

You had had this conversation many times to the point you were beyond tired of speaking about it. Helaena was the eldest sister, it had made sense to your mother and grandsire to pair the two together. They couldn’t have known the resentment that would build in the king.

Helaena was the correct choice for queen. You would not have the stomach for it. Helaena had already given birth to two of his children. Aegon was occasionally amused by them, but it was your sister that doted on them. She was a good mother. You didn’t think you could bring yourself to be. You were grateful to the maesters who would bring you tea and turn a blind eye to Aegon’s doings. The rumors that would circulate him would not ruin his future the way they would you. You’d yet to marry and if word got out you lacked virtue, you may never. You didn’t want Aegon to get the satisfaction.

You suspected Aegon no longer laid with his wife, and she was fortunate for that. If he loved you as much as he claimed and still had to kiss bruises in the morning, you didn’t dare to imagine what he could’ve done to her. She had given him a son and a daughter, and perhaps that was enough for him.

Aegon sat up and you flinched, even as he looked at you with tears in his eyes. You wondered if he recognized how insulting it was to hear him whine about his responsibilities, to listen to him say he loved you and list off the things he wanted to give you, only for him to not lift a finger for either. Duties went ignored. His love remained violent. You were tired. So very, very tired.

A hand found your face, fingers pressing into the skin of your cheek. Aegon’s thumb dragged down your lips, pulling the bottom one apart from the top. His gaze pierced yours as he let your lip go in favor of letting his thumb tilt up your chin when you tried to look away.

“Do you love me?” Aegon pleaded.

He stared at your mouth, waiting for you to speak. Your lips remained pressed together. Tears spilled further down his pale cheeks. Aegon’s face twisted as something other than just begging shined through his eyes.

Your lack of response rewarded you with a hand around the throat. Then again, you could’ve said exactly what he desired and received the same. He enjoyed his power over you as you’d never been one to fight back. At least this way you could remain somewhat defiant.

Aegon kissed you like he was trying to bruise your lips. His kiss was all teeth and tongue, forcefully claiming you as he left his mark. Aegon took what he wanted and cared nothing for charm or patience.

Hands fell to your shoulders, gliding over them for only a second before they pressed. Your back hit the mattress with a gasp. Aegon’s teeth found your neck as he crawled on top of you. The weight was already crushing. With each button on your gown he undid, the faster your heart raced.

“You are beautiful, sister,” he said, sounding wrecked already as he admired your naked body. You believed he meant it, but it didn’t spare you. “If only you weren’t being so stubborn with your words.”

Aegon’s hand on your neck was no more welcome than the first time he’d gripped it, but at least you’d grown better at controlling your breathing.

He made himself comfortable between your legs. The hand on your neck remained firm, while the other disappeared inside you.

You hated how he knew to do this. To prepare you for him. Something you were certain he’d learned at a pleasure house. That was the last thing you wanted to feel. At least if it hurt you could remind yourself you did not want this. You did not want Aegon to touch you or kiss you or fuck you. But when a warmth began to form inside you and slick coated his skilled fingers, your mind would always begin to blur and doubt crept in, while a smirk would appear on his lips. It happened every time without fail and this was no exception.

“You’ll have to speak to me sometime,” Aegon goaded, fingers stroking your walls. He leaned down over you, his lips pressing to your ear as he whispered, “Perhaps it’ll be when you scream my name.”

When, not if. Arrogance was a most undesirable feature of your eldest brother.

You tried to shut your thighs when Aegon withdrew his hand, but a harsh slap to your skin reminded you of your place. You grit your teeth and close your eyes as the head of his cock pressed into you. You’d lost count of how many times he’d done this, but it took your breath every time when he slammed into the hilt.

“Look at me,” he grunted. You could feel air hit your face, knowing his face was above you.

You cracked your eyes open when he squeezed your neck. His eyes would’ve been beautiful if they didn’t have such a lifeless quality to them.

Your throat bobbed against his hand as you swallowed, but no words left you. The sole purpose was to frustrate him. Tomorrow you’d speak to him as usual, but tonight, like you did some nights, you wanted to make your resistance known, even if his cock was buried in you.

He kissed you when he began to move. The hand on your throat remained as his lips attached to yours. His other hand groped at you, running over your hips, your waist, your breasts—anything he could touch. He thrust into you with power, forcing your legs apart. All you could do was lie there and take it.

Aegon breathed heavily against your mouth as your body welcomed him. Your mind had no say in the matter. Your warm, wet walls clung to his cock as he fucked you hard. Your legs wrapped around him without your say and that really drove him mad with lust.

His hand finally left your neck as both rose to run through your hair. Aegon’s hands were rough as he held your face in place by your scalp. Your winces of pain went ignored as usual. The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room and your face grew even more heated at the sound of your own slickness that joined. He parted from your lips to watch your face.

“I can see your pleasure, sister. Your body does not lie. Your face does not lie.”

You wanted to turn your head but you could not. You gripped the sheets as he pressed into you harder with each motion, letting you feel the thick length of him inside you even longer. Your legs began to shake as heat throbbed in your belly.

“Ae—” you cut yourself off, but it was too late.

You’d begun to give him the satisfaction of winning but had snatched it away. Aegon wouldn’t have that. He couldn’t.

His eyes looked wild as Aegon fisted your hair. “Say it,” he hissed. “Say anything.”

One would have mistaken his tone for anger, or something else, but you knew what it truly was. The desperation in his voice might’ve conjured pity if he wasn’t busy splitting you open on his cock. His thrusts picked up again and you felt your body beginning to tighten around him.

Your back arched off the bed as his harsh movements forced your legs further apart to make room for him. Aegon was growing frantic, chasing his desires with fervor.

One hand stayed in your hair while the other snaked between your bodies. A moan tore through you when the palm of his hand pressed to the top of your cunt. Another trick you were certain had been taught to him to find the most pleasure. Your hips bucked down against him, the need from your body for the pressure causing it to act on its own.

It was all so overwhelming, the word slipped from your lips before you could think to stop.

“Aegon!” you cried out. You didn’t even know what for. Surely for him to stop, but a blinding pleasure began to rattle you. Your legs locked around him, holding him deep inside you as your body quivered and clenched around him. You could barely breathe as the feeling of release wracked your entire being in a sudden instant.

Aegon cursed above you, his breaths coming out harsh. He gave quick, sharp thrusts, barely able to move with the grip of your legs. You felt his cock throb of you before he spilled inside of you with a deep moan. He shoved his hips forward, encasing himself in your body as he forced you to ride out your pleasure alongside him.

Finally, when your vision began to clear, you forced your legs to drop. You laid limp beneath him as Aegon collapsed on top of you. You shivered as his face pressed to your neck. You clenched your teeth as he nipped at your bruised neck. You even felt a tear stream down your cheek.

“You love me,” Aegon stated. It was not a question this time. He lifted his head, silver hair sticking to his forehead as his eyes searched yours. “You can deny it, or refuse to speak it, but you do.”

Whether he believed that or not, you couldn’t be certain. He spoke with conviction, but as you left him without a response, you noticed the familiar glint of sadness in his eyes as he fought back tears of his own.

With a quiver to his voice he added, “And I love you.”

As much as your body ached and your neck throbbed, deep down, you knew with certainty that he believed he did.