#just... trying to get inside her head y'know?

[lvzrii4]

꩜ .ᐟ LOVE YOU, STILL 西村力

— ✮⋆˙ nishimura riki x reader ✮⋆˙ second chance romance, angst with comfort, high school au, fluff, exes to lovers ✮⋆˙ 0.9k wc ✮⋆˙ grammar errors

WHEREIN you broke up because your worlds no longer moved at the same pace—but the feelings never stopped.

you and riki were pretty different.

you were a student journalist—always busy, always running after deadlines, always scribbling in your notebook. and he was a student athlete—the school’s pride, constantly training and traveling for games. in short, your worlds moved at different speeds.

and yet, somehow, the two of you still fell for each other.

it didn’t make sense sometimes. you didn’t even know how it happened—how a quiet afternoon turned into inside jokes, how shared glances became holding hands. but it happened.

then the arguments started. over time. your schedules clashed more than they synced. texts went unanswered, promises faded into excuses, and arguments took the place of laughter. riki needed presence, and you were always in a rush. you needed understanding, and riki was always tired.

still, breaking up felt like pulling the last thread on something sacred. you walked away telling yourself it was better this way.

eventually, you broke it off. but the feelings never really disappeared. maybe it was really your fault that you ended things.

“eunchae, please,” you whispered as you begged your friend. “come with me to the field. i have to take pictures for the paper.”

you didn’t mention that he might be there. you didn’t need to. eunchae knew.

you both walked to the field. she sat on the bench while you did your thing, snapping pictures of the team. your camera lens found him before you could stop it—riki, focused, fast, almost glowing under the afternoon sun.

when you came back, eunchae was staring at you with that look. “okay, let’s go,” you said, trying not to look at the photos you’d just taken. but eunchae didn’t stand. “wait,” she said. “he’s coming.”

your chest tightened. “eun—” you didn’t even get to finish your sentence before you heard him.

“hey.” you turned around. there he was. standing right in front of you like no time had passed. same calm voice. same soft eyes.

“uhm… how are you?” he asked. you froze for a second. eunchae elbowed you. “i’m fine,” you replied, trying to sound normal. “just busy. you?”

“yeah, same.” he nodded. “i just came over to… well… invite you. we have a game tomorrow. you can come if you want. both of you.”

you blinked. “uhm… i’ll check my schedule. thanks, though,” you said, trying to keep your voice neutral. your eyes avoided his, and before he could say anything else, you gave eunchae a subtle look—it was time to go.

you turned and started walking away, not waiting to see if she followed. eunchae stayed and smiled, “we’ll definitely come!”

you paused mid-step. your head turned slightly, just enough to catch her smiling at him. “eunchae!” you hissed. when she caught up to you, she was grinning.

“he still likes you, y'know,” she said, nudging you. “why not give him another chance?” you shrugged. “i don’t know, chae. i was the one who ended it… i don’t think i deserve to.”

“maybe,” she said, wrapping her arm around yours. “but love isn’t about deserving. it’s about trying.” you sighed. “i hope you didn’t just say yes to that invitation.” she stopped in front of her classroom door and winked. “oops. class is starting! bye!!”

you groaned. “eunchae!”

the day of the game came.

you were sitting in the lower bleachers, arms crossed, trying to pretend like you weren’t annoyed. “you owe me, eunchae,” you grumbled. “oh, come on. we’re cheering for our school! and besides, you’re literally here to write for the school paper,” she teased.

you rolled your eyes, but your heart stopped when you saw him. he looked good—focused, determined—but his eyes softened when they met yours. for a second, you swore he smiled. but then he turned away, called by his teammates.

“you’re imagining things,” you muttered. but you kept watching. the game started. and no matter how hard you tried to focus on writing notes or taking pictures, your eyes kept going back to him.

every time he scored, you found yourself clapping. every time he looked in your direction, your heart did that thing again.

then it was down to the wire. tie game. seconds left.

riki had the ball.

your breath caught.

he scored.

the stadium roared, and you stood without realizing, clapping, heart loud in your ears.

but the world froze again when he ran—past his team, past the noise, straight to you. riki didn’t hesitate. he didn’t even think twice. he stopped in front of you, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to his forehead, jersey in hand.

“what the hell are you doing?” you asked, voice caught between shock and disbelief. riki laughed under his breath, the kind of laugh you missed—soft, nervous, real. then he held the jersey out to you. “this is for you.”

you stared at it. “riki…”

“i still love you, you know?” he said, not looking away this time. your breath hitched. you didn’t know what to say. but he kept going, his voice low and sincere, “i know we didn’t work before. and maybe we still won’t. but… i played better today because you were here. i felt like i could finally breathe again.”

you looked down at the jersey, then back at him. “you’re so annoying,” you muttered, trying to hide your smile as you took it from his hands.

riki grinned. “you missed me.” you rolled your eyes, but the way you clutched his jersey a little tighter said everything. maybe this wasn’t about fixing everything all at once. maybe it was just about trying again.

and maybe—just maybe—that was enough.

© lvzrii4 — do not copy, translate, and repost my work.

[nanamisgirly]

part.1 part.2

˖ 𑣲 comments and reblogs are always appreciated ma girliiies <333

virgin!nerdjo, ever the diligent student, stumbles upon tutorial on nipple sucking—so what does he do? he goes to the nearest pharmacy and buy a baby bottle to practice on. he got a baddie to please, after all. one who's already let him come inside her by the way and in record time. but also one who's experienced. and he's…well, him.

virgin!nerdjo frowns at the taste the moment he tries it, straight-up plastic. but still, he follows the video instructions step by step, phone in one hand, bottle nipple in his mouth, trying his best to mimic the motions—rewinding it over and over determined to get it right.

but of course, he's super bad at hiding stuff :( so the next time you're in his room you spot it on his desk, half-hidden behind his clutter of notebooks and cables. it's sightly chewed at the tip. and it definitely got your attention. “satoru…is this…yours?”

virgin!nerdjo goes red in seconds—like a cartoon character caught with porn.  “w-what? n-no…” he tries, voice already cracking. you look at him, eyebrows lifted, tilting your head in amusement as a smirk tugs at your lips like you knowevery single embarrassing thought he's ever had. 

he groans in defeat, “yes…it is.” his eyes are glued to the floor, cheeks blazing. he feels like if the ground could just swallow him whole right now, that'd be great. but for some reasons, his mouth had other plans, seems like it can't just shut up for his own good, “there was this video. a bunch of them, actually. about,um…nipple technique.” he stammers, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, eyes still avoiding yours “y'know like…oral stuff. and one of the top comments said it helps to practice on biberon because…it's kind of squishy? and it has resistance…” 

you just stare at virgin!nerdjo, blank and expressionless. he feels so so dump. even dumper than when he cum in two seconds top-chrono in you. “i wanted to do it right!” he blurts, tugging his collar, desperately trying to get himself out of this. “last time i—uh—i lasted like one second. inside you. and you were so nice about it, but i wanna be better. I wanna make you feel good, not just…blow in my pants and cry.”

you walk slowly to him, eyes soft, voice lower. “so you practiced. on a baby bottle.” he nods, mortified. “and did it help?”

“no…it tasted like a melted barbie leg. i almost threw up.”

the next thing virgin!nerdjo knows, you're pushing him onto the bed as you pull off your top—he freezes in place, mouth open, glasses fogging like he's in the middle of a hentai scene he never thought he'd survive. and from where you stand between his thighs, you can see the bulge tenting his pants. poor baby probably got hard just thinking about this moment :(

virgin!nerdjo has his big hands clutching your ass, as your fingers tighten in his white soft hair—pushing his face to one of your nipple. “c'mon, nerd, show me what you've learned.” 

virgin!nerdjo starts so awkwardly. there's too much tongue, too wet and sloppy—his teeth scrape a little too hard and you flinch. “ah—! ‘toru…gentle, you’re not chewing gum.” he recoils instantly, looking like he just failed a final exam. “shit! i'm sorry—i didn't mean to—fuck, i'm such an idiot, i—”

“heyy, baby," you coo, cupping his cheek, brushing his hair from his eyes. "it's okay. try again, would you?” he nods quickly at your words, blinking hard. you swear there are tears building in those pretty blue eyes but you don't have time to think about it as this time he goes slower, sucking tentatively, trying to remember the tutorial steps : tongue flat, lips soft, light suction—add it progressively. he's shaking with focus, sweat dotting his brow as if he's taking an exam worth his entire GPA.

but it seems to work because your whimpers grow louder, virgin!nerdjo's tongue turns messy, fast. he's drooling and panting as his hand clutch to your ass like he might float off the bed. every gasp you make goes straight to his cock. he grinds on your lap helplessly, every moan from you like a five-star rating on his progress. he groans, mouthing at your other nipple, “you taste so much better,” he muffle, tongue flicking on the neglected nipple.

virgin!nerdjo is leaking through his boxers, one hand going to the nipple covered in spit—massaging with his thumb, watching it shine. the other hand drops to your upper thigh, where he humps like a dog in heat.

“you're doing so good, such a good boy, aren't you?” virgin!nerdjo moans your name like a prayer, sucking harder, hips stuttering against your thigh—he's leaking all over himself, so desperate and clumsy.

your sweet virgin nerd couldn't help himself. he had to make a sticky mess in his boxer :(

✩*:.⸝⸝>o<⸝⸝.:*✩

[nanamiskentos]

★ ☄️🪽 ARMAGEDDON ! jujutsu kaisen. 呪術廻戦.

prologue ⋆ ★ what if gojo satoru was the king of curses? or nanami kento, the suave n' disdainful cult leader? ryomen sukuna, the strongest at jujutsu tech? welcome to alternate reality jujutsu kaisen.

pairings ⋆ ★ gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab/she+her!reader, fíngering (f), metaphysical séx, reader is called 'whóre', the most incorrect use of unlimited void ever, óral (m), consensual éxhibitiónism/voyéurísm (nanami), mentions of violence, wall séx, hate séx (choso), jealous séx, car séx (toji), ríding him to tears, córruption kink, overstím, angry séx, lore swaps in a way that would make shonen jump blacklist me forever

word count ⋆ ★ 5.1k a/n ⋆ ★ been teasing this since november last year and i lost motivation and forced myself to pick it back up and get it togetherrr 😭 my formal apologies extended to gege

GOJO SATORU ៹. the king of curses

"i h-hate you, i really, really do!" funny, isn't it? how the words that fall from your kiss-stung lips don't quite match at how you're writhing and squirming in the lap of a being that could easily snap you in two, should he so wished.

clearly, gojo satoru seems to find you, his vessel, just as amusing, for he thinks he's grown rather used to your antics. to the way that you claim to detest him, and that you'll never entertain his offers ever again. and yet here you are, always crawling back to the king of curses when the long hours of the night don't allow you to rest.

"that's possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," gojo coos, chiming sweetly while two fingers work their way through your insides, crooking and curling to find your sweet spot. sighing as though he wasn't affected by your bare form, draped across his throne, "you know what i really admire about you? your unshakeable principles. how you say that you just can't stand me, heh, and yet, always beggin' like a whore for me."

"fuck, gojo, r-right there, –" eyes rolling to the back of your head, revealing the whites, as translucent gloss practically drips down one of the demon's four hands.

"yes, yes," gojo mutters, "i'll get to that, jus' gotta' be patient." luckily, your back is pressed against his bare chest, the muscles and flesh littered with bold, ivory markings. the very edges of ice-kissed hair tickling at your cheek as sharp fangs sink into the shell of your ear, almost tender.

each push and pull of gojo's slender, sturdy fingers between your swollen folds leaves a resounding pop! that echoes through this...well, you're not quite sure where you are. all you know is that, as gojo satoru's vessel, you're prone to sharing his domain — particularly when you're trying to sleep. frankly, you should be a little more concerned about the frequency of these metaphysical meetings, but it's hard to think of little else but how his fingers are so thick, hitting all the right spots in you.

"hey, have i ever told ya' about unlimited void?" gojo suddenly murmurs, jostling right over the nasty bulge that the king of curses packs beneath those loose robes. you tiredly droop your head back, too busy rolling your hips, so close to that dear climax that you've been chasing ever since your soul popped up in gojo's throne room. your eyes meet four blue irises, each one cunning and sharp.

"is t-this really the time for a, hah, a lesson?" you scowl, feeling gojo stiffen and curse underneath you when your pretty cunt sets a steady rhythm over his clothed shaft, "you were no help earlier today, y'know that, right? when that c-curse was –"

gojo nips at your neck, those strands of snowy hair kissing your neck once more, "you were doing just fine without me, always got somethin' to complain about, don't you, eh?" lifting your hips to hiss at the arousal that's leaking out from underneath you, pooling in his wide lap. muttering something about how a human and a lowly vessel like you should be honoured to receive a teaching from the incarnated king of curses, "now pay attention, 'cause i'm not gonna' be repeating myself. 's about t-time you learnt more about this domain."

bleary eyes cracking open to try and capture the sight of a floorless throne room, as though the night sky had been captured to form the base, flickering often as a starless, yet stormy sky, "i k-know unlimited void," you whine, "always showin' off in my head 'bout it," seething as gojo stills his fingers inside you, tutting as he presses a kiss to the nape of your neck.

two beefy arms still hold you aloft, while one has fingers buried within your cunt, and the fourth? deft, rough pads of his fingers begin rubbing soothing, tight circles over your clit, rendering most of your mind to mush, "not just a realm, sweetheart. heh, guess you could say it's a curse. at least for anyone foolish enough to find themselves trapped there –," patting your thighs gently, "present company excluded, of course."

resuming his gentle, punishing pace once more, still curling upwards where he's most eager to reach, that special spot that will see you falling apart so beautifully, "see, when most lesser beings enter, it's like – mhmm, how should i put this?" gojo's musing, voice curling melodiously behind you, slapping away your eager hand that reaches for his cock, "not yet, where was i? well, unlimited void stretches one's mind, traps ya' in an endless sea of information. trust me, yer' gonna' know every atom and particle out there."

"ah, gojo!" lashes fluttering with crystal tears that pull at the corners of your eyes, for he's hit the arrowhead right on the mark, right where your climax is poised to wash over you any second now.

but gojo's ignoring your needy cries, two fingers flexing so tense against your gummy, sticky walls, "so the mind can't really handle unlimited void, and most are just...shut down. but only when i activate it, does that make sense?" he's musing, not waiting for your answer, "yeah, it does, hah. but we are not most lesser beings, right?"

you're not even sure what on earth he's going on about, desperate to chase the orgasm that teases you, licks flames at your groin, "n-no, we're not, fuck, gojo, 'm so –"

"close?" gojo chuckles darkly, and you should have known. truly, you should have guessed that he would have never been so generous with your pleasure if he wasn't planning something. for just as you ripple with the dazed pleasure, you can feel gojo crook one finger in you, one behind the other, curling the digits just so he can mutter something you only catch when it's too late.

"unlimited void."

what follows next is earth-shattering, for you feel as though its the ultimate surrender to the king of curses, where time and space, and thought all blend together into something overwhelming perfect, rather than suffocating. your lips part, soundless as a silent cry is ripped from you, your thighs quivering atop gojo satoru's muscular lap, release absolutely spraying and gushing out from your swollen, eager folds.

you've never had a release that's quite so...clear and inviting, and you can hear gojo's amused, aroused laugh against your back, and if you didn't know better, you would assume that the king of curses is running pale claws through your hair, letting you ride out the crystalline wave of your orgasm.

"hahh, oh my – oh my god, satoru," you're probably babbling, clinging and creating a bigger mess over gojo, who just narrows all four eyes, tipped with white, long lashes. he's smiling, as though he knows something that you don't, and he looks almost pleased, "should we continue the next lesson tomorrow night?"

NANAMI KENTO ៹. the cult leader

you should have known better, you really should have been a bit smarter about all this, about flouncing into the hall where nanami had been holding court, or rather, cult. for the mats had been set up the previous day for the wealthiest benefactors to come and see the great, golden man in the flesh.

and you doubt your husband had been...pleased, when you had poked your head past the great sliding doors, clad in nothing but an open robe in swathes of rippling navy. so all those who turned their head would have caught sight of nanami kento's beautiful wife, nipples pebbled in the cool air, drawing their line of sight to the apex of your thighs. so, that's how you found yourself here, lips pursed around the fat head of the cult leader's shaft.

"she's doin' so well, isn't she?" nanami intones, gentle hand guiding the nape of your neck, loving even. well, he always was, despite the games that the two of you played. the show that he was always eager to put on, hazel eyes gazing over the gaping maws of the benefactors who could only watch, shifting on their mats as you lifted your head up with a pop!

he's chuckling to himself, running a limp hand through thick waves of amber hair, "heh, 's okay. no-one needs speak, i need to be hearing her properly." her being the slick sounds echoing from the hollows of your mouth, the lips that you used to press creamy kisses onto his cock.

"doing, mmph – doing good?" you mumble, that heavy slurp! of your tongue against the broad underside of his cock sending him to heaven and back. he's adjusting his glasses, guiding a shaky hand to the base of his cock, where golden curls coil thickly, slowly sliding his member from your pretty mouth. smearing your waiting lips with the translucent smears of pre that you've pulled from him.

"the best," nanami assures you, patting at his thick, muscular thighs for you to lay your head, "and t-they all think so too, i bet." he can see the gleam in your eyes, knows that you're enjoying this just as much as he is.

wondering at all the creative ways that he can take you right after this, perhaps splayed out on his lap for all to see, back against the teal robes snug on his chest, so the benefactors can see his cock slide between the fat folds of your cunt. tempting.

you're pursing your lips once more, wiping a stray, clingy strand of nanami's arousal from your chin, before diving back to the head task at hand. each wet, sloppy sound of your glistening lips against the fat, blushed tip of his cock has nanami's thighs shaking, quivering. determined not to whine and lose composure in front of the men who fork over billions of yen to his...temple each month.

but it's your hands that are the most dangerous, nanami concludes, for while you flatten your tongue against his tip, your fist tightens around the base of his cock, teasing gentle fingers against the folds of skin right underneath, and his mind goes absolutely blank.

shooting ropes after ropes of thick, buttery release against your lips. watching with glimmering, hazy eyes as your fingers catch the droplets of his release, reaching in between your thighs to slicken your cunt further with his climax, god, nanami truly thinks he's going to burst.

there's a faint, muffled groan from someone in the audience, and he can see the pitying, disapproving look in your eyes. for someone's broken the golden rule of silence, and well, the whole room is gonna' pay for that now. and miss out on a truly magnificent show, he'd wager. what a shame, but no big loss. he's truly extracted whatever funds they had, so these men are of no use to him now.

he gently runs slender fingers over your chin, dipping at the plush flesh of your lower lip, helping you up, "come, my love. i don't want you seeing this," pulling your open robes tighter across your heated flesh, he's guiding you to the door, past the rows of slack-jawed men. nanami kento certainly doesn't want the love of his life hearing the sounds of errant curses ripping flesh apart.

CHOSO KAMO ៹. the assassin

you not really sure what's stopping you from plunging the tip of a blade into the throbbing veins that bulge against choso kamo's neck. it would be so easy, and well, it would be fair too. you could claim self-defence too, for had the sorcerer killer not arrived to take your life?

but fate has a funny way of doing things, for there's a hazy smile playing across your lips, fingers twisting into loose strands of dark hair that fall to choso's shoulders, gasping as he rickets his hips into you, greedy as his cock drills you against the damp alley-wall.

"you're not t-that good at y'job, are ya'?" you're teasing, gasping as you can feel every inch of choso's thick shaft pressing disorderly pecks against your cervix, deeper than you really thought possible. and god, the assassin looks ruined. how ironic that you were the one who took him out instead, with nary a weapon but the one that he loved between your thighs.

the taller man's groaning, amber eyes misty, squeezing shut as dark lashes flutter across pale, blotchy skin like brush strokes on an oil canvas. "s'good, oh, f-fuck," choso's lips bloom a pretty shade of bruised pink, "yer' killing me, baby."

he's jerking his head back, partly from the sheer pleasure running through his veins, and partly due to your nails bestowing a harsher, tighter tug to the back of his head. it's got him sheepishly giggling, utterly pussydrunk on you, "sorry, bad choice of words, huh?"

whatever retort was blooming on your open lips falls apart when you feel the cherry head of choso's cock punch at you, pistoning slick smears of pre against your sweet spot, hot and heavy. he's filling you up in the most delicious way imaginable, and you take the moment to run your hands over his back. over the tight top that clings to his build like a second skin, melded into the ashen pallor of his bulging upper arms.

choso's effortlessly got you poised on one arm, jostling and cursing as his fingers loop around thick, coiled chains dangling from the spear strapped to his back. he's fumbling for a split second, throwing the weapon on the ground with little care, all so he can hold you better. cold fingers pressing against your mouth, a waiting command for you to wrap your tongue around the tip of his finger. tasting yourself, from when you had first guided his hand to the apex of your thighs.

"c-close?" choso murmurs, questioning and chasing after your lolling tongue, looking equally wrecked, as he slams the very last of his inches into you. bottoming out with a thick, sticky pop! the final push has him hitting the perfect spot to make you writhe and squirm. sealing him into a kiss this time to muffle the whine that threatens to erupt from you.

knowing that that choso's got you pinned to the wall of an alley in one of the most run-down districts of the city, where none travel save for ill intentions, and yet, anyone could still turn the corner and see exactly where the base of choso's cock meets your hips in clingy slaps of arousal and pre swirled up together.

"the f-first time i've never been able to finish the job, heh," choso muses, his tone almost gentle despite the mean way that he's delving into your walls, "don't think i can face m'boss after this, tch', o-ouh, fuck," choso's leaning into the crook of your neck, sinking pointed canines into soft skin. leaving marks that will surely bruise and bloom in shades of deep violet, when he separates his tacking, syrupy lips from the juncture of your swan-arch.

you groan, unabashed, when choso stills for a second and bestows you with a heady kiss, all before plunging right back in to you, "who would have thought i would be the o-one to bring the sorcerer killer to his k-knees?"

choso's giving you a half-lidded, lazy look, flushing a brilliant shade of blossom-pink, as though he's got all the time in the world, smoothly dragging his hand down further until its patting at your mound, "p-patience, i'll give ya', that too."

TOJI FUSHIGURO ៹. the office worker

"oh, it's you." that was your disappointed, flat intone when toji fushiguro pushed through the elevator doors after you, earlier that day. the man was the office's terminal underachiever, barely even showing up on the clock, but it was hard to complain when he proved such a delicious sight for the eyes in a rumpled black dress-shirt, rolled up to reveal glorious thick forearms dusted with faint, dark hair.

"oh, it's t-too big, toji!" and that's how you somehow ended up, practically pressed flat into the most brutal, nasty mating press in the backseat of your car. toji's large hands splayed across your thighs, legs achingly hooked over his bent form — but the ache between your legs was far more pleasurable. glossy strands of slick snapping and clinging to your skin where his thighs snapped against yours, steady at a pace that wouldn't rattle your isolated car too much in the basement lot.

"didn't think i was gon' show up today, doll?" toji groans, slowly bucking his sharp hips forward so every inch of his cock explores the walls of your pretty, pretty pussy. "that's why y'were flirtin' with that stupid –" the man's muffling back a heavy moan, "that stupid worker on the s-second floor?"

you're not quite sure how toji manages to do it. defying the laws of physics and matter to somehow reach in between the two of you, to slap around the treacly mess gathered at your pressed groins. toji's circling your throbbing clit in faux pity, all as you heave, "you're jealous? t-that's what this is, hah?"

toji's jade, sharp eyes narrow as though he's hesitant to put a name to the emotion, settling to roll and pinch at your swollen bud, hoping that you can feel every vein and fold of skin rummaging through your syrupy cunt, "n-no." but the quake in his voice gives him so brutally away, and it has you grinning. pulling toji fushiguro down for a clash of your lips against his, so that rough scar brushes against your skin, twitching almost as though toji's smiling into the kiss. what a bastard, you hate how he's ensnared you.

you hiss, pulling at soft, silky strands of raven hair, "keep it down, fushiguro –" heart racing with every ricketing motion of your poor car, swaying back and forth, tucked away in this dim little corner of the office basement lot, "s-someone could see, could fire us, hnghh', b-both."

it's clear that toji fushiguro doesn't quite share your concerns, that shark-like grin beaming in brilliant ivory, nipping at your neck, tugging the corners of your blouse with his teeth, "someone, as in – fuck, ya' got a killer grip, doll. someone, like that fucker on the second floor?"

you roll drenched hips further into toji's abdomen, feeling dark hairs tickled at the very lowest base of your own groin, "if ya' wanna be exclusive, t-toji, just say so." head thrown back for toji to bestow heated kisses all along the expanse of bared skin, tossing your employee lanyard aside.

toji punctuates his answer with a sharp tack of his hips against your clit, "yeah. exclusive, you n' me, doll." the burly man must be close for he's flushing, babbling at you as though you're undoing every stitch holding his slacks (and sanity) together, "i'd do a-anything. clean up my act for ya', show up every day jus' to see that pretty fuckin' face."

your own hazy, shaking climax washes over you, just as toji stills, pumping rope after rope of translucent, creamy cum right into you. creating an awful, sticky mess that leaves you writhing, panting toji's name into his open mouth, "do all that, f-fushiguro, and y'can have me in any way you want."

GETO SUGURU ៹. the death painting

"please," the half-curse is whining now, prattling as you run hands over the dark, cotton robes that envelop him, "dunno' what this is, but it feels so –"

you're cooing, pressing soft and slick kisses to the corner of geto's pink mouth, "feels good, suguru? i guess you could say, hmm," running nails through the dark, silky strands of the death painting's hair, "you could say it's pleasurable, right?"

geto's nodding, adam's apple bobbing as his peach-fine features flush the most beautiful shade of crimson. looking nothing like the hardened warrior with an arsenal of special-grade curses, those of his own blood, at his side. he looks positively ruined, and you can feel the curve of his bulge underneath your teasing hands, running softly over the clothed shaft in the most innocuous way possible.

"can you, ouh –" geto stutters when your lips press a searing kiss into the throbbing vein on his creamy neck, where his shaky pulse jumps in staccato, "touch it? feels s-so good, love."

you're batting your lashes, tilting your head as though you have no idea about the effect you hold over the half-curse, "what? touch, oh!" slipping your hand past the band of his loose pants, underneath the deep violet fabric cinched at his waist, "here?"

resting your hand against the very base of his abdomen, right above where he craves you most. geto's bucking his hips up desperately, hoping that you'll get the hint and move past where you've hovering, right over a thatch of raven-curls.

you thinly smile, feeling the heat of his skin sear into you, before you've even touched his muscular, broad thighs. to think that you've got quite the warrior begging underneath you, well, it's got your own thighs damply clenched together. but that's a lesson for another day, for today, you want to see geto suguru gasping in your hold.

"hmm, suguru, y'know you've gotta' be a bit more specific," your nails run dangerously against his shaft, and you won't admit this to him yet, but the sheer length is making you gulp. all before you've even laid eyes on the magnificent inches that he's packing away underneath his robes, "do y'trust me, sugu'?"

geto nods, quickly and sharply, already shivering from your touch, "of c-course, 'course, i trust you." and the admission makes your pussy flutter, the idea of having this girth packed in you, drilling into you until the two of you see stars.

you press another gentle kiss to the corner of his lips again, reaching up to free his hair from the clingy knot resting on the back of his head. marvelling as ink-dark hair pools in sleek swathes, falling to his waist, giggling as geto chases after your lips, "hah, 'm gonna make you feel so good, baby."

you gently tug his robes to the side, revealing an expanse of chiselled skin, and clear-cut muscle. giving geto a coy look as you pull out his weighty, hot shaft, searing in your hands. it's just as pretty and big as he is, crowned with an angry-red head that seems to throb and pulse in your grasp.

"fuck," geto gasps, already looking drunken from your touch, "keep doing t-that, don't stop that, please." he's addicted to the way that your fist starts gently pumping him, slowly applying more pressure as you move from base to tip. dipping your tongue to taste the first, clear drops of pre that have already escaped.

you clearly didn't account for the physiology of those with cursed blood in their veins, for geto's already making a mess. you're certain that barely no time has passed at all, but there's already slick, gooey strands painting your hand. creating loud squelches as you roll your fist, thumb pausing to flit at his weeping slit.

"hey, suguru," you're murmuring, experimentally parting your lips over his bulging tip, "what would happen if i –"

you get your answer when you're barely enveloped his shaft, thick wads of stringy cum exploding out in glossy torrents, painting your chin in slow, clingy drips of geto's seed. geto, who's twitching and flushed in your hold, ears beaming red as he gnaws at his lower lip, "baby, you shoulda', fuck, should have warned me." pausing to give you a shy look, "wanna' try again?"

RYOMEN SUKUNA ៹. the strongest

"what the fuck was that?" you've never quite seen sukuna like this, this furious. this loss of composure just didn't quite suit ryomen sukuna, the strongest sorcerer that walks the earth in this day and age (though, rumours say that he may even hold a candle against gojo satoru, the famed king of curses).

over a decade you've known the gruff man, graduated alongside him, worked and fought alongside him at jujutsu tech, and yet you've never, ever seen sukuna as he is now. not even when itadori yuuji broke his favourite mug before class.

he's blinking crimson eyes in some sorta' haze, dark lashes fluttering as his mouth hovers an inch away from yours. you're not sure what sort of lecture this is, but the throbbing in your groin is a dead giveaway that you don't mind.

a large hand is resting on the nape of your neck, as though sukuna's not sure whether to pull you away or towards him, numerous silver piercing clinking as he shakes his head, "what did i say to ya' earlier, hmm?"

"erm..." no, not your best work.

but it's truly hard to focus when sukuna looks this good, painted in the evening light that filters through the window of the abandoned classroom, long after the students have retired. toned, deceptively fierce arms pushing against the navy jujutsu uniform, rose-pink hair mussed — no thanks to that special grade that was giving the two of you a hard time not so long ago.

he's pushing closer against you, and you're catching that scent, intoxicating and heady, "wasn't a rhetorical question, woman. didn't i tell ya' one important thing?"

you realise how easy it would be to wrap a leg around his slender waist, to pull the tall man in against the two of you were pressed flat against the desk but you tamp the lecherous thoughts down, time and place, yeah? "you said...," you falter, wandering if it's worth tilting your head to brush your lips against the man, "y'said not to get in the way."

sukuna's long fingers are curling at the shell of your ear, running over a stray strand of hair that's come undone in the earlier scuffle, "mhm, good girl. and what did ya' do, then? when i was busy using dismantle n' cleave?"

you sigh, already feeling sukuna's temper roll off him in waves, "yes, i got in the way," intoning flatly, looking anywhere but the concentric rings in sukuna's eyes, "look, if you're gonna' chew me out, can you make it quick? i ended up you helpin' anyway, and i dunno' why you're so pressed about –"

sukuna presses his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up in a kiss that leaves you whimpering, moaning at the desire (and something else that you know sukuna's gonna have a hard time naming) that erupts. bruising lips meeting yours with a fierce urgency, teeth scraping, and hands pulling your own uniform to the side, as though sukuna may lay down his life if he doesn't get to feel you this close to him.

sukuna's muffling something into the kiss, calling you senseless (well, hey! not true) and oblivious (maybe) and gorgeous (true enough, that's fair). you're not sure when his large, tattooed hand managed to pry its way up to your thighs, but you gasp at the feeling of your suddenly drenched panties being torn off with little bravado. sukuna's grinning, all sharp fangs, as he tucks them away into his uniform pocket.

"fuck me." you're groaning, gasping at his thumb hooks over your clit, rubbing hot, tight circles into your most sensitive spot. you're not sure if it's exasperation or a plea colouring your words, but sukuna seems pleased, quirking a brow, "yeah? that's what you want? think it'll get ya' off the hook?"

"please fuck me," you correct yourself, reaching for the metal buckle at sukuna's hips, fulfilling that vision of hooking sukuna in. rocking him closer to your bare, dripping core so he can align his fat, heavy tip against your glistening entrance.

your eyes flit down to the very base of his cocks, where coarse, pink hair teases your flesh, and — oh. sukuna's tracking your line of sight, flushing when he sees your eyes widen, taking in the dark, tattooed ring encircling the base of his shaft.

"don't ask," sukuna grunts, ears flaming red as you giggle, nipping at your ear, "hold on f'me now, can ya' follow that instruction, at least?" the man truly thinks he may lose it, right then and there, watching how your puffy folds bulge around the head of his cock. how it's you, the woman that he's been in love with for ten years, giving him a dazed, lopsided smile when he finally, finally slides it in.

"fuuuck," sukuna groans, pale-pink hair tickling at your forehead as he leans in, "yer' taking me well, heh. not too big for ya'?" he's grinning, even when you swat a droopy hand at him, clenching hard around his girth, "don't flatter yourself."

but it's only when he starts rocking his hips back and forth, imprinting his cock right against your walls, that sukuna begins to lose his mind, losing all sense of other duties and responsibilities. thoughts of the report that he has to submit to the fuckass higher ups, the quizzes he has to grade for the dumb, little first years, oh god, the bills he has to pay. poof! gone, vanquished by the sticky-sweet hold of your intoxicating cunt.

"wanted this for sooo long, woman," sukuna grunts, "you got no idea, wanted you," he punctuates his words with a sharp tack of his hips, "only you. always you, only one for me, heh. i'd take out anyone who says otherwise." and your sweet, pretty whimpers in his ear only make him all the more desperate, ready to slam bullseye on that sweet spot. thank god, classes are over for the day and the campus is empty, for he's got you allll to himself now.

[killerplink]

Shameless

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Words: 10k

Plot: You're supposed to head straight home after the bar. You really are. But you're drunk, and needy, and desperate for his dick, so now you're in some alley getting fucked stupid against a wall.

CW: established relationship, 18+, smut, drunk sex, praise kink, size kink, public sex, rough sex, overstimulation, creampie, aftercare

The bar is dim and comfortably loud, some old rock song spilling from the jukebox while Jason leans back against the booth, arm draped along the backrest, watching you with a lazy smile. You're already two drinks and some shots deep—which, for you, is a lot—and it shows in the way you're slumped just slightly against his side, giggly and loose, eyes a little glassy under the neon glow.

He knew you needed this. Knew this week had been a fucking nightmare for you. And yeah, maybe getting you tipsy wasn't the most responsible move, but God, you're cute like this, all soft and clingy and running your mouth without a filter.

"Y'know," you slur a little, gesturing wildly with your glass, "that bitch from the subway? The one who kept pushing into me?" Your brows knit together in offended disbelief, like you're personally wounded all over again just thinking about her. "I shoulda knocked her fucking teeth out."

Jason has to bite the inside of his cheek, his grip tightening on his beer bottle as he lifts it to his lips. You're so damn small, and the way you say it, all dramatic and dead serious, makes it even funnier. But you're not joking. You slam your palm against his chest to drive the point home, which, to you, probably feels like a decent smack, but to him, it's barely a tap.

"Right?" you demand, eyes wide and expectant, waiting for him to back you up.

Jason clears his throat, desperately swallowing the grin threatening to break free. "Yeah, baby. Totally. Shoulda knocked her the fuck out."

"Exactly!" you nod so hard your whole body sways, and Jason has to steady you with his free hand to keep you from sliding right off the seat. "No respect. None! Who does that?"

You keep ranting, every slurred complaint punctuated with another dramatic gesture or a wild wave of your drink. Jason just sits there, half-listening, half-savoring how fucking adorable you are like this, all small and feisty, tipsy and dramatic, tucked into his side like you belong there.

He loves you so much it's fucking stupid. And it's only a matter of time before that sweet mouth of yours gets him into trouble tonight, one way or another.

By the time your third drink arrives, your body feels warm and heavy, head swimming in that sweet, fuzzy way that makes everything feel a little softer, a little funnier, and way hornier than it should.

Jason's sitting there next to you, all broad and solid, wearing that black t-shirt that stretches just right over his chest and arms, showing off all that ink. His thighs, thick and spread wide, are right there next to yours, and you can't help yourself—your free hand starts to wander.

You trace slow circles along the inside of his thigh, your fingers sneaking higher each time until your knuckles almost brush the bulge straining against his jeans. Jason tenses just slightly, the muscle under your palm jumping at the touch, but he doesn't stop you right away.

He's used to your drunk grabby hands by now, and hell, it's flattering how fast you get worked up for him. But his dick? His dick's got no chill, thick and half-hard already, and your teasing fingers aren't helping.

"Baby," he murmurs, his free hand curling around your wrist, stopping you gently. "Behave."

You pout instantly, squirming closer until you're practically in his lap, your big, glossy eyes locked on his like you're about to cry over it.

"Jay," you mumble, voice all soft and slurred, "you're so fucking hot."

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he takes another sip of his beer. "Am I?"

You nod. Hard. Like you're trying to convince him of a life-or-death fact. "Hottest guy I ever been with," you say, and Jason's ears go pink at the blunt praise. "Can't believe you chose me."

Jason's brow arches, that soft smile curving his lips. "What do you mean, pretty girl?"

You just shrug, lifting your drink to your mouth again, and miss it entirely, half your sip spilling down your chin, sticky and sweet. Jason sighs, amused, and reaches out with his thumb, gently swiping the alcohol off your skin.

That's when your grin turns wicked. Before he can pull his hand away, you catch his wrist, pulling his thumb between your lips. Your tongue flicks against the pad before you suck gently, cleaning off the spill like it's the most natural thing in the world. But your mind? Your drunk, horny mind immediately derails into filth.

You wish it was his cock instead. Thick and hot, sliding across your tongue, stretching your lips wide, fucking your throat until you're gagging and drooling and swallowing down every messy drop of his cum.

Your thighs clench under the table, the sudden rush of slick making you squirm, a soft whimper slipping out before you can stop it. Jason's brow furrows, his beer halfway to his mouth.

"Baby," he asks, voice lower now, "you okay?"

You nod too hard again, the world tilting slightly around you as you lean in, your hand landing high on his thigh once more. "Wanna fuck," you whisper, way too loud for how crowded the bar is.

Jason barks out a surprised laugh, shaking his head like he can't believe you. But fuck if it isn't turning him on, how unfiltered and needy you get for him when you're drunk.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, tipping back the rest of his beer in one long swallow before setting the bottle down with a clink. "Okay, pretty girl. Let me pay the tab and we'll go home, yeah?"

You hum happily, already leaning into his side, and Jason's hand settles warm on your thigh, fingers tracing mindless shapes while his other hand fishes his wallet out. You're still thinking about his dick—hot and leaking, sliding into your mouth, fucking your throat open before he bends you over and makes a mess of your pussy. And you've got zero intention of waiting until you're home to get your hands on him.

Before you leave, you decide you need the bathroom, weaving your way through the crowded bar with Jason's hand at the small of your back, his touch warm and steady, guiding you even though you're not exactly steady yourself.

The bathroom is... well, a Gotham bar bathroom—dim, one flickering fluorescent light buzzing overhead, cracked mirror, graffiti covering the stall doors. It smells like vodka, faint piss, and one of those cheap lavender air fresheners, and honestly? You've pissed in worse. You handle your business, wash your hands, and catch your reflection in the smeared mirror.

You look... a little wrecked already. Cheeks flushed, lips glossy and a little swollen from how you've been biting at them all night. Your eyeliner's still holding on, but your hair's a mess from leaning into Jason every time you got touchy, and you always get touchy when you drink. Still, even a little tipsy and sloppy, you grin at yourself, knowing damn well Jason still looks at you like you hung the fucking moon.

You smooth your hands down your skirt, adjust your top, and stumble your way back out, only to immediately see her.

Some too-pretty bitch draping herself all over your man like she doesn't know he's taken, her stupid pink acrylic nails tracing up his arm, leaning way too close into his space like she's got a shot in hell.

And Jason? He looks exactly like you expect—bored out of his fucking mind. He doesn't smile, doesn't lean back, doesn't flirt. His body stays turned toward you, eyes scanning for you even as she talks, and the second you step back into view, his shoulders relax like Thank fuck you're back.

But you? Oh, you're seeing red.

"Excuse me?" you shout, voice cutting through the music and bar chatter like a fucking gunshot. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Jason groans under his breath—"Oh, shit." —but it's too late. You're already stomping toward them, small but furious, your heels clacking hard against the floor like you're about to fight for your goddamn life.

The girl barely gets a chance to blink before you're in her face, finger jabbing at her chest, your other hand pointing wildly at Jason like a woman unhinged.

"That's my man, you thirsty fucking skank. Go throw yourself at someone who doesn't have a girlfriend."

Jason stands immediately, his big hand wrapping around your waist, physically lifting you off the floor because you're already reaching for her hair, fully prepared to drag her across the bar.

"Doll," he says, low and firm, voice edged with both amusement and actual concern. "C'mon, pretty girl, let's go."

"No!" you shout, flailing in his grip like a feral little cat. "She—she touched you! You're mine!"

"I know, baby," Jason says, voice softer now, soothing, his lips brushing your ear as he starts hauling you toward the door. "I'm all yours, always yours, pretty girl, you know that."

The girl stares in shock, but Jason doesn't even glance back at her. His only focus is you. His loud, drunk, ridiculously hot girlfriend who's out here ready to commit assault over him, and damn if that doesn't make him feel a little smug.

Outside, the cool night air hits you, and you're still huffy, arms crossed tight, refusing to look at him. Jason tugs you into the nearest alley, far enough from the entrance that you've got a little privacy, and then he tips your chin up gently, making you meet his eyes.

"Baby," he says, soft and serious, "you know I don't give a fuck about anyone else, right? You're it for me. My perfect girl. Nobody else even exists."

You bite your lip, still pouting, but your heart melts, all fuzzy and warm at the edges. "Promise?"

"Swear on my life," Jason says, hand over his heart, even though you both know his heart's been yours since the day you stumbled into his world.

You sigh dramatically, leaning into him, forehead to his chest. "Okay," you mumble. "But if she looks at you again, I'm breaking her nose."

Jason huffs a laugh, arms wrapping tight around you, hiding his smile in your hair. "I know you will, doll."

Then it hits him. Fuck. He walked you both here. No car, no bike. And now he's got to get your tipsy, horny, fight-happy ass home on foot.

"Oh, this is gonna be a long walk," Jason mutters, but even with the impending chaos, all he feels is love.

Wild, messy, absolutely fucking insane love for his feral little girlfriend who'd burn the world down for him if he asked. Jason's big hand reaches for yours, callused fingers curling gently around your smaller ones, and you let him intertwine them, your palm snug against his, so much bigger, so warm, so him.

You look up at him, eyes still wide and pouty, lip poked out just a little, and Jason can't help it. He leans down, catching your mouth with his in a kiss that's meant to be sweet, but fuck, you're drunk and needy and soft under him, and it goes from gentle to hot and sloppy real fast.

You moan against his mouth, pressing up on your toes to get closer, tongue sweeping into his mouth, tasting beer and Jason and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke. Your free hand slides between you, fingers tracing down the front of his jeans until you find his dick, thick and warm, already stirring to life the second your palm cups him.

"Jesus Christ," Jason mutters against your lips, breaking the kiss with a panting breath. "Baby, you're insatiable."

"Yeah," you giggle, voice all breathy and fucked out already. "I want you so bad, Jay."

He takes a deep breath, trying to get his pulse under control, even though his cock is already hardening under your touch.

"C'mon, baby, let's get going. We'll be home in no time, yeah?"

You shake your head so violently you nearly knock yourself over, and Jason's quick, both hands grabbing your waist to steady you, brows raised in that exasperated, fond way that makes you feel like the most spoiled little brat in the world.

"No?" he asks, amusement curling in his voice. "What do you want, then?"

You pout, full-on drunk girl tantrum loading, tugging at his shirt like a needy little gremlin. "I want your dick, baby."

Jason laughs, head tipping back, the sound echoing off the brick alley walls. "I know, baby. And you'll get it." He cups your face, thumb dragging across your lower lip, eyes warm and full of affection. "Home. I'm not fuckin' you against a dumpster in Crime Alley."

You whine, actually whine, stomping your foot once for good measure. "But I'm so wet, Jay," you mumble, words all slurred and pouty. "My pussy hurts."

"Baby," Jason groans, running a hand down his face like he's in actual physical pain from trying to be a good man right now. "You are killin' me."

"So fuck me," you say, all wide-eyed, like you've cracked the fucking code.

Jason breathes deep through his nose, hands settling firm on your hips, holding you just far enough away from his dick so you can't start rubbing all over him again.

"Baby. Baby. Listen to me."

"No," you cut in, dramatically folding your arms under your tits, cleavage spilling in your too-tight top. "You listen to me. You always wanna fuck me. Why not now?"

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about needing fucking therapy, before he cups your cheeks again, squishing them until your lips pucker.

"Pretty girl, I do always wanna fuck you. But if I fuck you here, in this nasty-ass alley, I will never forgive myself. And you, my sweet, drunk little menace, will complain the whole way home about how your knees hurt or your back hurts or how you got gum in your hair from leanin' against this filthy fuckin' wall."

You blink at him, brain working overtime to process all that, and then you sniff. "Fine."

"Thank fuck," Jason sighs.

"But I'm walking all sexy so you stare at my ass the whole way."

"Baby," Jason groans, sliding a hand down to smack your ass once, hard enough to make you squeal and giggle. "You're a fuckin' nightmare."

"A sexy nightmare," you correct, wagging a finger in his face before you twirl dramatically toward the sidewalk, hips swinging like you're on a runway.

Jason follows, shaking his head, but fuck if he isn't staring at your ass just like you wanted. Even under the dim streetlights, the sway of your hips is hypnotic, that short skirt barely covering you, and all he can think about is getting you home, spreading you out, and ruining you properly.

But first? He's gotta get you both back alive.

His hand settles on the small of your back again, eyes scanning every shadow, every rooftop, every alley you pass, because it's Gotham. And drunk, horny, dramatic as you are, you're still his most precious thing. The only thing he'd throw himself in front of a bullet for without a second thought.

"Stay close, baby," he murmurs, fingers curling in your waistband, keeping you just a little closer as you both make your way down the sidewalk. "Don't need you wanderin' off."

You hum, leaning into him for a second before dancing away, spinning in a circle because you're drunk and happy and feeling yourself, and Jason knows—knows—that if you weren't so fucking adorable, he'd have lost his mind years ago.

His hand stays wrapped around yours, big and warm and strong, fingers interlocked so tight it feels like he's afraid you'll slip away if he lets go. You're not even thinking about the way his grip has a slight edge to it, the way his shoulders stay tense, scanning every shadow you pass, every figure leaning against a wall or sitting on a curb. To you, it's just Jason holding your hand like he always does, but to him, it's the only way to stop himself from grabbing the nearest asshole staring at your tits and slamming their face into a brick wall.

Because yeah, you're loud. Laughing too hard at your own jokes, voice bouncing off every building as you tell him how much you love his biceps, actually grabbing his arm with both hands and smooshing your cheek against it like it's the only pillow you ever want again.

"Baby, I swear to God, I think your arm is bigger than my whole head," you giggle, fingers barely stretching around the thickness of his bicep.

Your cheek stays pressed against him, your lips practically kissing the fabric of his jacket, and Jason just grunts, biting back a smile.

He's trying so fucking hard to stay focused. You're walking through downtown Gotham, and even though you're getting closer to Bristol, you're still technically in territory where he knows half the guys on the sidewalk have at least one weapon on them.

But you? You're bouncing beside him in your cute little skirt, tits pushed up perfectly, heels clicking on the pavement, and every time you laugh, your nipples press against the thin fabric like a filthy little tease.

Jason glances down just once, and fuck, you're not wearing a bra. His jaw clenches so tight his teeth might crack.

"Jay, Jay—hey," you tug at his arm, nearly tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. He catches you before you fall, one strong hand on your hip, the other still holding your hand tight. "I'm okay!" you announce, way too loud, grinning up at him.

"Yeah, I see that," he mutters, tugging you closer so you're practically walking under his arm now. "Maybe let me steer, baby, before you snap one of those pretty ankles."

You just hum, leaning into his side, your arm wrapping around his waist, your cheek back against his ribs this time, and you barely reach his shoulder like this, even with the height boost from your heels.

It's obscene, really, how small you are compared to him, and Jason feels it everywhere. In the way your soft hand barely wraps around his fingers, the way your arm can't even get all the way around his torso, the way your chin tilts up so far just to meet his eyes.

It's making his dick throb again, especially with the way you keep pressing against him like you can't get close enough, your tits practically plastered to his side. And when your hand slips lower, over his hip, fingers skimming his belt? Yeah, his dick definitely stirs again, already half-hard in his jeans.

But Jason grits his teeth, eyes flicking down a side street where a couple of guys lean against a car, watching you both pass with a little too much interest.

He could end them. Real easy. But that means letting go of you for even a second, and in a place like this, that's too much time.

So instead, he focuses on getting you both to Bristol. Once you're there, it's different. Still Gotham, sure, but way less grime, way fewer threats.

"Baby, your biceps," you murmur dreamily, still snuggled into his side. "I wanna live here. Make me a bicep hammock. I could just... take a nap right here."

"Jesus Christ," Jason huffs, half-laughing, half-suffering.

His hand squeezes your hip hard enough to make you gasp softly, and your thighs press together instinctively, slick panties clinging to your skin.

And you know it's bad—for him, for you—because you can already feel how wet you are, panties soaked just from the feel of his hand and the size of his arm and the fact that Jason fucking Todd is all yours.

Every broad inch of him belongs to you, and you want him so badly your nipples ache, hard and sensitive, the cool night air brushing them through your top with every step.

Jason feels it too, the way your body stays glued to his, warm and soft and sweet, all that restless, needy energy radiating off you like heat. And even though his jaw stays tight, his eyes sharp and scanning for trouble, his dick is already thinking about the safety of your shared apartment, where he can fuck you in peace.

But finally, you make it into Bristol, and Jason feels like he can breathe again. Shoulders easing just slightly, the tension that's been coiled in his spine since you left the bar loosens a fraction, though he's still hyper-aware of every footstep behind you, every flickering streetlight, every passing car.

Gotham's quieter here, but it's still Gotham. And no sane person drives a cab through this shithole, especially not after dark, which is exactly why you're stuck walking home. Buses aren't much better. Either they're not running at all, or they're full of people Jason would rather not share air with, let alone a seat.

But you? You're not thinking about cabs or buses or safety at all. You're too busy scanning the sidewalks like you're searching for treasure, except the treasure you want is a dark, secluded little alley where your man can fuck you until you're crying.

And you find one.

You stop so suddenly he nearly stumbles into you, and you gasp like you just discovered the lost city of gold.

"What now, doll?" he sighs, already bracing for whatever chaos is about to spill from your pretty mouth.

Your grin is downright wicked, that playful, tipsy sparkle in your eyes as you grab his arm with both hands and start walking backwards toward the alley entrance. It's tucked behind some trendy little wine bar, barely lit, and Jason's already shaking his head, planting his feet like a stubborn brick wall.

"Baby," he warns, voice low, but you're having none of it.

"Jay," you pout, stepping back into the shadows, fingers curling around his belt to tug him with you. "Please. Pleasepleaseplease. I can't wait. I'm so fucking wet, I swear it's dripping down my thighs."

"Jesus," he mutters, but his resolve is crumbling fast, especially when you grab his wrist and guide his hand under your skirt, between your thighs, pressing his fingers against the damp lace of your panties.

Jason hisses between his teeth, jaw clenched tight as his fingertips press into the soaked fabric, feeling just how messy you already are. "Fuck, baby," he groans, fingers stroking you through the lace until you're trembling. "You really are dripping."

You nod so hard it's almost comical, hips rocking into his touch, and he curses again, pulling his hand back before he loses whatever sliver of restraint he has left.

"C'mon, Jay," you murmur, voice all sweet and syrupy as you press your body against him. "No one's here. I need you so bad."

He's so fucking weak for you. He always has been. With a low, rumbling sigh, he grabs your hips and lifts you slightly off the ground, keeping your heels from clicking against the damp pavement, his strength so effortless it makes you dizzy.

Your arms loop around his neck, lips grazing his jaw, and you whisper, "Knew you couldn't resist me."

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, but there's already a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he carries you further into the alley.

And to both your surprise, it's not that bad. No reeking garbage, no questionable puddles, just a slightly damp brick wall and enough privacy to make this work.

Jason pins you to the wall gently, broad hands spreading your thighs, fingers curling under the hem of your skirt to bunch it up around your hips, and the cool air against your soaked panties makes you shiver.

"We're doing this fast," he murmurs, voice dark and low as he towers over you, his body heat sinking into your skin. "Then I'm carrying your ass home and fucking you proper, got it?"

You just nod, biting your lip as your hips wiggle, trying to press against him. Before you can fully grind up against him, Jason pulls you off the wall like you weigh nothing, his big hand splayed across your back, holding you up effortlessly with just one arm.

"Hold still, baby," he murmurs, though there's a flicker of fond amusement in his voice.

You cling to him, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, legs dangling slightly until he sets you down just long enough to shrug out of his leather jacket. Then he drapes it over your shoulders, the worn leather heavy and warm from his body heat, swallowing you whole.

"Don't want you all scratched up," he says, fingers brushing your cheek before he lifts you up and pins you back to the wall, his body following, pressing tight against yours.

The kiss that follows is messy, almost desperate, like neither of you has any patience left, his mouth slanting over yours, tongue licking deep between your parted lips. You taste like alcohol and sweetness, like the cocktails you couldn't stop sipping, and Jason tastes like beer and heat and him.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against your mouth, and he rolls his hips into you, grinding his thick cock against your sopping cunt through your panties, the rough denim dragging against the soaked lace until you whimper into his mouth.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, forehead pressed to yours. "You're so fuckin' wet. I can feel it through my jeans."

"Then stop teasing," you pout, hips canting against him again, your thighs trembling from the sheer ache of needing him inside you.

"Oh, baby," Jason grins, all teeth, his hand sliding between you to push your panties aside, fingers dipping low to swipe through your slick folds, making you jerk. "Teasing's my favorite part."

"Jay," you whine, voice high and thin, your hips trying to chase his fingers as they stroke along your slit, purposefully avoiding your clit. "Please. Don't—don't tease, I'm so wet, I need you, please."

"Yeah?" He drags his fingers lower, tracing around your entrance, gathering up your slick, rubbing it slow over your throbbing clit until your whole body jerks again. "You need me that bad, baby?"

"Yes," you cry, voice pitchy and desperate, hands fisting in his shirt. "Need your dick, need you to fuck me, pleasepleaseplease—"

Jason hums low in his throat, eyes dark and heavy-lidded as he watches you come undone right in front of him. "Greedy little thing," he teases, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your clit until you're trembling against him. "So fuckin' needy."

"Because you made me like this," you snap, drunk enough that you barely have a filter, every single thought spilling from your lips. "You and your stupid big dick and your stupid perfect hands and your stupid hot face—"

Jason barks a laugh, cutting you off by sinking two fingers deep into your cunt with a filthy squelch that echoes through the alley, your protests melting into a soft, helpless moan.

"There we go," he murmurs, voice low and rough as his fingers pump in and out, stretching you open, slick dripping down to coat his knuckles. "Gotta open you up, baby. You know you can't take me if I don't stretch this sweet little pussy first."

You just whimper, hips rocking down onto his hand, your fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, your drunk little brain so overwhelmed by how good his fingers feel, how deep they reach, already curling to press against that soft, spongy spot inside you.

"Always so fuckin' tight," Jason mutters, thumb circling your clit as his fingers fuck into you, slow and deliberate.

You nod frantically, too far gone to do anything else, all your focus narrowed down to the way his fingers stretch and fill you, the slick sound of it obscene in the quiet alley.

"Think you can behave if I fuck you right here?" he asks, lips brushing your ear, fingers never slowing. "Or are you gonna be a noisy little brat and get us caught?"

Jason's fingers work your cunt like it's his job, those thick digits scissoring inside you, spreading you wide, your walls clenching down hard every time he drags them out only to push them back in knuckle-deep.

You're soaked, dripping all over his hand, slick and messy and obscene, and he fucking loves it. Loves the way you always need a little stretching, loves how no matter how many times he's fucked this pussy, you still go all tight and greedy on him like you're brand new every single time.

His thumb circles your clit, slow and deliberate, just enough to keep you right on the edge of frustration, never quite enough to let you fall over, and you whine, a long, high-pitched sound that makes him smirk.

"Jay," you slur, lips dragging over his jaw, sticky and soft, your fingers clawing at his back through his shirt, hips squirming helplessly against his hand. "Want your dick, baby, please."

"Shhh," Jason hums against your mouth, voice rough, fingers still fucking into you, that relentless rhythm making your thighs shake. "I've got you, baby. Let me make you cum first, yeah? Can't have you all tight and needy like this. You'll hurt yourself tryin' to take me."

"Don't care," you pout, sucking a mark into his neck, messy and wet, your tongue flicking over the spot before you nip at it, making him grunt softly. "Wanna be full, Jay, wanna feel you stretch me out, wanna feel you fuck me so deep, baby, please—"

"Jesus," Jason mutters, but there's no heat to it, just low, throaty amusement, like he can't believe how fucking desperate you get when you're drunk and horny like this.

He shifts his hand, fingers crooking inside you just right, dragging over that spot that makes you jolt, and you whimper, thighs clenching around his waist.

"Look at you," he breathes, eyes dark and hooded as he watches your face twist in pleasure, mouth all pouty and glossy, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to your temples from how hot you've gotten. "So fucking pretty when you're like this, baby. All fucked out and desperate for me."

"Because I love you," you slur, fingers fisting in his hair, tugging him down into a kiss that's all tongue and teeth, messy and clumsy and so fucking hot he groans into it. "Love your dick, love your hands, love your stupid face—"

Jason swallows your rambling with another kiss, his fingers never stopping, his thumb rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit until you're trembling, back arching, your whole body pressing into his like you're trying to crawl inside his skin.

"C'mon, baby," he whispers against your lips, voice low and dark and sweet like sin. "Cum for me. Make a mess all over my fingers, show me how bad you want me."

You sob—a high, helpless sound—as your cunt clenches down hard, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking freight train, your hips stuttering against his hand, slick gushing over his fingers and dripping down to his wrist.

"Good girl," Jason praises, kissing you through it, swallowing every little moan and whimper as his fingers keep pumping, working you through the aftershocks until you're twitching, trying to squirm away from the overstimulation.

"Too much," you mumble, slurring against his mouth, but he just hums, grinning against your lips.

"Fuck," Jason mutters, pulling his fingers from your spent pussy, shiny and dripping, your slick coating his knuckles and glistening under the dim alley light. He holds his hand up, spreading his fingers just to watch the strings of your arousal stretch between them, his lip curling into a dark little smirk. "Look at this messy little pussy, baby. You really are my perfect fuckin' girl, aren't you?"

You whimper, squirming against the wall, thighs trembling where they wrap around his waist, and Jason's grin only widens. "Can't get enough of me, can you? Drippin' just from my fingers. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna ruin you."

"Please," you mumble, words all breathless and slurred, your glossy eyes locked on his mouth like you're starving for him. "Kiss me, Jay."

He doesn't need to be told twice. His mouth crashes into yours, hot and hungry, all tongue and teeth and filthy little moans that make your head spin. You taste like your cocktails and him, and you drink down his groans like they're your favorite liquor, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging hard just to feel him grunt against your tongue.

His kiss is messy, wet, his teeth catching your bottom lip, tugging until you whine before soothing the sting with his tongue. His hand stays firm on your ass, keeping you pinned, while his other works at his belt with practiced ease, the jingle making your pussy clench down hard around nothing. Your thighs squeeze his waist, your needy body rocking against him like you're trying to catch his dick the second it's free.

"Desperate," Jason teases, voice thick with amusement, but his own breath stutters when his jeans finally slide down just enough to let his dick spring free, hot and heavy, the flushed tip already smeared with precum.

He grunts softly as he fists himself, dragging his slick thumb over the head before he ruts against your messy cunt, grinding his cock between your folds until his length is coated in your slick, sliding so easily against your soaked, swollen clit.

"Baby," you moan, head lolling back against the brick, your eyes going half-lidded, all glassy and drunk on him. "Want you so bad. Please, Jay."

"Fuck, you're so needy," he groans, angling his hips just right so the thick head of his cock notches at your entrance, pushing in just a little, stretching you open slow. "Always so tight for me, baby. So fuckin' perfect."

You whimper, hands scrabbling at his shoulders, his back, his neck, anywhere you can hold onto as he starts to push deeper, the stretch making your mouth drop open, your eyes going wide as your cunt struggles to take him, even as slick as you are.

"Every time," Jason mutters, almost to himself, watching your face, your body, your perfect pussy swallowing him inch by inch. "Every fuckin' time this pussy fights me at first. Like you forget how big my dick is until I'm stuffin' you full again."

He doesn't even bother bottoming out at first, just fucking into you shallow and rough, enough to make your body bounce against the wall, enough to make you cry out soft and sweet with every thrust.

"Jay—" you whimper, too loud, but he slaps a big hand over your mouth, muffling you, his own jaw tight as he glares down at you.

"We're still in public, baby," he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust, finally bottoming out in one stroke that makes your eyes roll back. "Behave. I don't wanna spend the night in jail 'cause my girl couldn't keep her pretty mouth shut."

You whimper against his palm, nodding hard, eyes still wide and glassy, and he kisses your forehead like you're not split open on his dick in the middle of a fucking alley.

"That's my good girl," he purrs, letting his hand slide down to grip your waist, both hands anchoring you now as he starts to move.

And fuck, he moves, lifting you up like you weigh nothing, only to slam you back down onto his cock, impaling you over and over, your messy little cunt squelching loud and obscene every time he bottoms out. Your slick coats his dick, smearing down his thighs, dripping onto the pavement, and he's fucking feral for it, teeth gritted, sweat beading at his temples from how tight you are.

"Fuck, baby, this pussy's made for me," he groans, his grip bruising at your hips, his cock grinding so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. "So fuckin' tight—so wet for me. Look at you, baby, takin' me so good. My perfect little slut."

"Yours," you slur, hands scrabbling at his shoulders, your head dropping back against the wall, throat exposed and begging for his mouth. "Love your dick, Jay. Love you. Love you so much."

"Love you too, baby," he grunts, barely coherent as your walls flutter around him, your cunt sucking him in so tight he can barely pull back without you chasing him. "Love this messy little pussy. Gonna fuck you stupid right here, doll. Gonna make you cum on my dick, and then I'm gonna stuff you full of cum. Even if it gets me arrested."

The words shoot straight to your core, making your pussy clamp down around him so sweet and snug that Jason has to grit his teeth, his hips stuttering just for a second as heat flashes down his spine.

"Fuck—just like that, baby," he breathes, voice low, vibrating against your neck. "Keep squeezin' me like that, doll, you're gonna milk me dry."

The sound of your cunt taking him is fucking obscene, a slick, messy squelch every time he pulls out, followed by a wet, filthy slap as he fucks back in, balls-deep. It echoes off the brick walls, mixing with his ragged grunts and your soft, breathless moans, and it's so fucking dirty it makes his cock twitch inside you.

His hands cup your ass, those big, strong hands lifting and spreading you, kneading your soft flesh as he works you up and down his cock like you're weightless, his fingers sinking deep enough to leave bruises tomorrow.

The sweet scent of your arousal fills his nose, thick and heady in the cool night air, and Jason can't help himself. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling deep like he's getting high off the smell of your pussy.

"Always so fuckin' sweet for me," he murmurs against your skin.

His tongue flicks out to taste the sweat beading there before he sucks at your neck, hard and messy, leaving dark bruises like a brand. He soothes the sting with his tongue, a lazy, possessive stroke that makes you whimper and tighten your grip in his hair, tugging at the strands like you're trying to keep him exactly where he is.

He doesn't give a fuck if you pull every single strand out, doesn't give a shit if you ruin his scalp, because all that matters is the way your pussy feels. So fucking soft, so hot, clenching around him like you were made to take his dick. His thighs burn from the angle, his back sticky under his shirt, but none of it registers because all he can think about is how fucking good you feel, how perfectly you fit around him.

Jason knows, deep down, that this is fucking insane. He's not supposed to be fucking you in an alley in Bristol. Usually, he's the one talking you down when you're drunk and horny, steering you home with that cocky little grin, promising to fuck you into the mattress the second you walk through the door. But tonight, reason flew out the window the second you dragged him into the shadows, panties already soaked, begging for his dick like a needy little slut.

And fuck, how's he supposed to resist you when you look at him like that? When you sound like this? All soft, breathless little moans, spilling past your kiss-swollen lips as you clutch at him like you'll die if he stops? When your body trembles in his hands, your slick running down his balls, every ragged little breath carrying his name?

"Jason," you whisper, so soft and sweet it fucking kills him, your voice all wrecked from the way he's been fucking you open. "So big, baby. Feels so good."

"Yeah?" His voice drops, rough and husky, fingers digging into your ass just a little harder as he fucks you deeper, cock grinding against that soft spot inside you that makes you tremble all over. "This dick's yours, doll. Made to stretch this sweet little pussy. You're perfect, baby—fuck, you're perfect for me."

Your nails rake down his back, short little scrapes through his shirt that make his abs flex, and Jason growls low in his throat, biting at your neck, at your shoulder, anywhere he can sink his teeth into.

"So good, doll. So fuckin' tight. My messy little slut, all drunk and desperate for my dick. Gonna fuck you until you can't even stand, baby."

Your walls pulse around him like you're already close, your breath hitching in soft, uneven moans, and Jason groans against your skin, fucking you harder, faster, losing any semblance of control. His hips slap against yours, your slick painting his skin, his cock so soaked it glides into you with filthy ease.

"C'mon, doll," he whispers against your ear, voice dark and sweet, dripping filth like honey. "Be my good girl and cum for me, yeah? Let me feel you soak my dick. Let me ruin this pretty little pussy."

Jason's grip shifts, just slightly, and the angle hits different—deeper, somehow rougher, but the real kicker is how his hips grind up against your clit every time he bottoms out, his skin rubbing over that swollen little bundle of nerves.

It's not even intentional at first, just the natural press of his body against yours in this position, but once he hears the choked little moan you make, he fucking locks onto it like a bloodhound, making sure to grind against you every time his cock stretches you open.

Your head falls back, clunking lightly against the brick, legs tightening around his waist, pulling him in closer, deeper. "Gonna cum," you gasp, voice thin, whiny and so fucking needy Jason feels his cock twitch inside you. "Jay—gonna cum, baby, please—"

"Yeah, you are," he rasps, kissing you quick and filthy, all tongue and teeth, biting at your lower lip before pulling back to look at you, all fucked-out and perfect. "Cum on my dick, baby. Make a mess all over me."

His thrusts turn deep and shallow, grinding against your clit with every stroke, the fat head of his cock dragging over that sweet little spot inside you until your legs start to shake. Your whole body tenses, back arching off the wall as your cunt pulses around him, gushing so hard it drips down his cock, slicking up his thighs and the inside of yours, messy and obscene and so fucking good.

"OhmyfuckingGod," you gasp, the words running together into a high-pitched moan, your body trembling in his hands.

You're loud—too loud—and Jason clamps his hand over your mouth again, shushing you in that low, dangerous tone that always makes your cunt clench.

"Shhh, doll. You wanna get us caught?" he murmurs, right against your ear. "I'll stop. I fuckin' will. I'll pull out and leave you drippin', you keep bein' so fuckin' loud."

You shake your head wildly, wide, desperate eyes looking up at him, your hands clutching at his shoulders like your life depends on it. You can't stop now, you need his cum, need him to fuck it into you so deep it sticks, so deep you feel him for days.

Jason knows. Of course he knows. Knows how much you love it when he pumps you full, knows how fucked-out and blissed you get when you feel him leak out of you, warm and thick and messy.

He's just about to give you what you want when—

The flash of red and blue lights paints the alley in sharp neon. You both freeze.

Jason's heart fucking stops, then kicks up so hard he can feel it in his teeth, every muscle in his body going taut like a wire ready to snap. Your eyes go wide, mouth opening in a silent gasp, fingers digging into his back hard enough to leave crescent marks through his shirt.

"Shhh, baby," he whispers again, this time more soothing than stern, his hand smoothing over your hip like that's gonna calm either of you down. "If you're quiet, they're not even gonna know we're here."

You nod fast, lip caught between your teeth, eyes darting to the mouth of the alley where the cop car slows, brake lights flaring red through the shadows.

Jason's heart pounds, his cock still buried balls-deep in your cunt, and this might actually be the stupidest, most reckless shit he's ever done—which is really saying something, considering his track record.

The car idles there for a beat too long, and you start to panic for real, breath coming too fast, your fingers clutching at him, but Jason dips down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice low and calm.

"Hey. It's okay, baby. They're just bored. Ain't got shit to do out here. They'll move."

And they do, after what feels like a fucking lifetime, the car finally rolls past the alley, the glow of the lights fading into the night.

"See, baby? Told you. We're good."

He grins, kissing you again, slow and sweet at first, until you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him deeper, the kiss turning sloppy and filthy all over again. Tongues sliding together, your moans humming right into his mouth, his cock twitching inside you.

"Now," Jason mutters between kisses, "where the fuck were we?"

He starts moving again, lifting you in his arms like you weigh nothing, slamming you back down onto his cock, the force of it making your whole body bounce, your slick cunt taking him so easy now after you came all over him.

Jason fucks you hard, not fast, not hurried, but with deep, brutal strokes, splitting you open every time, grinding against your clit at the end of each thrust until your breath stutters and your eyes flutter shut, head lolling back against the wall.

"Fuck, baby," Jason groans, forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged, hands locked around your waist, holding you tight like you might slip through his fingers. "You're so fuckin' tight. You feel that, doll? Feel how perfect this little pussy fits around my dick?"

You moan, soft and breathless, nails raking down his back, and Jason fucking loves it. Loves how wild you get for him, how no matter how many times he's fucked you, you're still so damn tight around him.

"Love this pussy, baby," he mutters, voice thick and low, "love ruinin' you. My messy little slut, all drunk and dripping for me. Fuckin' perfect."

He can't stop kissing you, can't stop tasting your lips, your tongue, the little whimpers you feed him between kisses, his hips never slowing, driving into you over and over, fucking you so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat.

He knows you need to get the fuck out of here before the cops come back, before some nosey old lady comes out of that wine bar and catches you. But your pussy's too good, too sweet and snug, and if he doesn't cum soon, he might actually lose his mind.

Jason's pace shifts—rougher now, driven by that primal need to fill you up, to mark you inside and out, to make sure no one could even think about touching you after this. His thrusts slam into you with brutal precision, the thick length of his cock dragging along every slick, swollen inch of your cunt, stretching you wide around him, splitting you open over and over until your pussy feels raw and tender and so fucking full it's like you can't take a breath without feeling him buried deep inside you.

He knows you can feel every vein, every ridge, the blunt head of his cock grinding right against your cervix, and fuck, you're so wet. You're dripping all over him: down his thighs, pooling between you, every thrust making a filthy squelch echo down the alley. If anyone walked past right now, there wouldn't be a doubt what's happening here.

Not with the way your slick coats his cock, makes every thrust slippery and obscene, not with the way your breathy little moans hitch every time he bottoms out, not with the way his hips slap against yours, skin sticky with sweat and arousal.

Your thoughts are a fucking mess, the only things running through your drunk, fucked-out brain are Jason, dick, cum, more. You can't think past the way his cock stretches you, how perfect it feels to be pinned up like this, taken apart by him like you're nothing but a toy, his strong arms the only thing keeping you up. You swear you can feel him everywhere, like he's inside your bones, like the next time you take a step you'll still feel the heavy weight of him between your legs.

He kisses you again, messy and desperate, tongues sliding together, teeth clashing, spit slicking up your chin, but neither of you give a fuck. Your fingers knot in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt into your mouth, and he swears he could cum from just this. From the taste of you, the feel of your cunt pulsing around him, the soft little whimpers you spill into his mouth every time his cock hits that sweet spot.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps, forehead pressed to yours, sweat beading at his temple, "this pussy's so fuckin' messy. So fuckin' tight. Can barely move, you're clenching so hard. You gonna cum again for me, doll? Gonna make a mess all over my dick?"

You nod, whining, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes because it's too much—too good, too deep, too full—but you don't want him to stop. "Please, Jay, wanna cum with you, wanna feel you fill me up."

"Yeah?" His thrusts speed up, hips snapping into you hard and fast, dragging you down onto him like a ragdoll. "Wanna feel me cum inside this needy little pussy? Stuff you so full it leaks out of you? You fuckin' love it, don't you?"

You whimper, nails biting into his skin, legs tightening around his waist, and you're so fucking close, right on the edge, your whole body buzzing, heat coiling low in your belly, until one perfect grind of his cock against your clit sends you over, your cunt fluttering around him, sucking him in so deep.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," you chant, head falling back against the wall, eyes rolling back, body shaking in his grip as you gush all over him, slick dripping down his cock, onto the pavement, messy and obscene.

"Fuck—there you go, baby. Fuckin' soak me," Jason groans, his rhythm stuttering, hips jerking, grip bruising around your waist. "That's my good fuckin' girl."

And then he's right behind you, cock throbbing, thick ropes of cum spilling into you, hot and heavy, pumping against your cervix until you can feel it everywhere, until you swear it's gonna leak out of your mouth.

His head drops to your shoulder, mouth open against your skin, breath ragged as his hips keep moving, slow, deep thrusts fucking his cum deeper into you, even though it's already dripping down his dick, slicking up your inner thighs.

But he's not done—not yet.

You barely catch your breath before he starts moving again, overstimulated and tender, but his dick's still hard, still hungry, and he loves you like this. Drunk on him, too dumb to think about anything except the way he fills you up, the way he uses you like his personal fucktoy.

"Jason," you slur, clinging to him, nails digging into his scalp, his back, anywhere you can reach, "too much—too much—"

"You can take it, baby," he purrs, kissing you again, softer now, but still deep, still filthy. "Know you can take it for me. One more, yeah? Be my good girl."

And fuck, of course you're his good girl. Of course you'll give him one more.

He pounds into you harder, faster, sloppy and desperate, the sound of skin on skin mixing with the wet squelch of your cunt, the sweet scent of your arousal thick in the air, his nose buried in your neck, sucking messy bruises into your skin as his fingers grip your ass, kneading and spreading you, watching the way his cock disappears inside you over and over again.

Your thoughts are gone, totally fucked out, only able to focus on the way he fills you, the way his cum squelches out around his cock every time he thrusts back in.

And Jason? Jason's fucking feral, eyes locked on the sight of his cock splitting you open, cunt so swollen and puffy, all slicked up with both of you, and all he can think about is how fucking perfect you are.

"Look at you, baby," he whispers, voice low and reverent, fingers sliding between your bodies to rub your clit, even though you're already so sensitive you're trembling. "My perfect little pussy. Made to take me. Made to get fucked dumb, stuffed full of my cum. My sweet girl."

And that's all it takes, one more twist of his fingers, one more deep thrust, and you're cumming again, body jerking in his hands, cunt milking him for every last drop.

Jason kisses you through it, drinking down your whimpers, your soft little cries, soothing you with his tongue even as his hips finally slow, his cock still thick and heavy inside you, keeping every messy drop right where it belongs.

"Good girl," he breathes against your lips, forehead resting against yours, hands smoothing over your hips, "my perfect, messy girl."

Your body is deadweight in his arms, completely boneless and blissed out, every limb heavy with exhaustion and the sweet, drugged haze of post-fuck bliss. You're still trembling, but not just from the aftershocks. The cool night air prickles at your exposed skin, goosebumps pebbling over your arms, your thighs, the still-damp mess between your legs.

Jason feels it immediately, the way your soft, bare skin shivers against his, and it sends a twist of guilt through his gut—fucking you into a fucking alley like some horny teenager. But truth be told, it was your idea.

But before he can even say anything, your hands cup his face, small fingers curled around the rough edges of his jaw, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and you kiss him. It's slow this time—messy, sure, still tasting like beer and sweat and something sweet that's all you—but it lingers, softer, deeper, your tongue curling into his mouth, tracing along his teeth, savoring him like you need to commit the taste of him to memory.

You're still trembling, but the heat between your bodies eases it just a little, your fingers combing through his damp hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp as you melt into him, the kiss lasting long enough that his dick gives a lazy twitch inside you again, still hard even after he just filled you to the brim.

Finally, you pull back, lips red and swollen, your face glowing with the kind of fucked-out bliss that makes his chest ache with pride.

He smirks down at you, brushing a strand of hair off your face as he mutters, "You're fuckin' insane, pretty girl."

You giggle, that sweet little drunken giggle that makes his cock twitch again, and your head tilts back against the wall. "I thought I was gonna die without your dick, baby."

He groans, shaking his head, but there's no real exasperation there, just affection under the rasp of his voice. "Yeah, like I said. Fuckin' insane."

But you're already nuzzling into his neck, soft lips brushing his skin, your breath warm and sleepy against his throat. You smell like sweat and sex, all wrapped up in that sweet scent that's all you, and his arms tighten around you without thinking.

His lips press to the side of your head, lingering there as he murmurs, "C'mon, we need to get you home, yeah?"

You pout, face still buried in his neck. "Can't move. 'M tired. And cold."

"I know, baby," he soothes, one big hand rubbing slow circles on your back. "I know. I'll carry you."

You scoff weakly, lifting your head just enough to squint up at him. "We're far from home."

"So?" he shrugs, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't act like you weigh a ton of fuckin' bricks."

You giggle again, arms going slack around his neck as you settle more comfortably into his hold, cheek squished against his shoulder. Jason's hands ease under your thighs, holding you up as gently as he can while he slowly pulls out, your slick warmth clinging to his cock, your messy cunt fluttering around nothing as his cum immediately starts to drip down.

You whimper softly at the loss, fingers curling into his shirt, but before you can complain, he's already reaching down, sliding your panties back up over your swollen cunt. Not to keep you modest—no, that ship sailed about four orgasms ago—but just to keep as much of his cum inside you as possible. He watches the way the lace darkens immediately, soaked through from the mess he made of you, and his cock twitches again in the cool air.

He sets you down carefully, but your knees buckle instantly, legs still shaking too hard to hold you up. "Jesus, baby," he chuckles, steadying you with one arm as he tucks his cock back into his jeans, adjusting them like he didn't just ruin you against an alley wall. "Gonna have to work on your stamina."

"Don't be mean," you pout, swaying a little as he smooths your skirt back down over your thighs, not that it covers much, but at least it's an attempt at decency.

Then he grabs his jacket from your shoulders, wrapping it around you properly this time, tugging your arms through the sleeves before zipping it all the way up. It's way too big, swallowing your smaller frame whole, and the sight makes him laugh. Your fucked-out face peeks up at him from inside the oversized jacket, makeup smeared, mascara smudged under your eyes, lips still swollen and shiny with spit and his kisses.

You pout harder at his laugh, but it only makes him grin wider. "Shut up."

"Never," he says, scooping you back into his arms like you weigh nothing at all. You try to protest weakly, but he shushes you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Just let me take care of you, baby. Bet those pretty little feet already hurt in those heels."

And you can't even argue because he's fucking right, and honestly? Being carried sounds pretty nice right now.

Jason's grip adjusts as he walks, arms cradling you tighter to his chest, your body boneless and pliant in his hold. You're so out of it, head resting against his shoulder, lips slightly parted, soft breath warming his skin every few seconds. His jacket drowns you, the sleeves hanging past your hands, and he can feel the damp heat between your thighs seeping into the fabric where you're curled against him.

You're a mess, hair sticking to your forehead, skin sticky with sweat, makeup smudged in every direction, and his cum still leaking slowly down your thigh, leaving shiny streaks against your skin. But fuck if you aren't the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

He carries you easily, years of strength training making your weight feel like nothing. His feet move on autopilot, familiar with the route home, but his mind? That's a fucking mess.

Because Jason Todd doesn't do this. Doesn't fuck his girl drunk in a dirty alley with the risk of cops busting them. He's the one who's usually dragging your ass home before you get yourself into trouble, lecturing you about safety, tucking you into bed with water and painkillers. But tonight?

Tonight you begged so sweetly, moaned so filthy, kissed him so needy that all his common sense evaporated. And now he's here, hauling your wrecked body home, knowing you're gonna be sore as hell tomorrow—all his fault. And he can't even bring himself to regret it.

The door creaks softly when he shoulders it open, the apartment dim and quiet, and by the time he crosses the threshold, you're completely asleep against him. Your breath is soft and steady, face smushed into his neck, lips still a little wet from those sloppy kisses you couldn't stop giving him.

He sighs, kissing the top of your head before carrying you straight to the bathroom, flicking the light on with his elbow. The bright light makes you stir, a soft whimper leaving your throat, but you don't wake until he starts peppering little kisses across your face. Your nose first, then your forehead, then your cheeks, until your lashes flutter, and you blink up at him, all confused and sleepy and perfect.

"We're home, baby," he murmurs, voice soft.

You look around, eyes squinting at the light, brow furrowing as you take in the bathroom. "Huh?"

It's so adorably confused, so genuine, that Jason can't help but laugh.

"Yeah, doll," he grins, setting you down on wobbly feet. "We made it."

You sway a little, legs still weak, and he steadies you with one hand while the other shrugs his jacket off your shoulders, tossing it over the counter. Then he sinks to his knees, big hands cupping your ankles as he carefully unbuckles your heels, sliding them off one by one.

His palms rub over your skin, easing the ache, and he leans in to press a kiss to your calf before standing again. "Feet hurt?"

You nod sleepily, arms looping lazily around his neck, and he smiles. "Told you."

He gets the water running, warm but not too hot, and undresses you like you're made of glass, peeling the sweat-damp top and skirt from your skin, sliding your panties down those shaky legs, until you're bare and glowing under the bright bathroom light.

His own clothes come off fast, jeans and t-shirt kicked into the corner, and then he's guiding you under the spray, his big body crowding in behind you, keeping you steady.

You whine, soft and pitiful, as the water hits your oversensitive skin. "So tired," you mumble, cheek pressed to his chest.

"I know, baby," he soothes, hands moving quickly—gentle but efficient, washing away your makeup, the sweat and cum and alley grime, fingers gliding between your legs, over your thighs, along your back.

Every protest, every sleepy complaint, gets kissed away—a kiss to your shoulder, your temple, your lips. By the time he's rinsed you off, you're barely awake, your body slumping against him as he wraps you in a towel and carries you straight to bed.

You hit the mattress face-first, towel half hanging off, and you're out like a light in under five seconds.

Jason watches you for a second, shaking his head with a fond smile. "Hopeless."

He tries—he really does—to dress you at least in one of his shirts, but you don't even budge, and honestly? If you wanna sleep naked, who the fuck is he to stop you? Less work for him in the morning. He tosses the towels back into the bathroom, pulls on a pair of boxers, and slides into bed beside you.

The second his body heat hits you, you roll into him, face pressed to his chest, soft thigh hitching over his hip like you can't stand to have any space between you. His arm curls around your waist automatically, palm sliding up the curve of your ass, along your back, tracing lazy patterns across your bare skin.

He's still thinking about you, about tonight, about how the fuck you've got him wrapped around your little finger so tightly that one pout can ruin every ounce of self-control he's got. And it should piss him off. Should make him wanna teach you a lesson. But instead, it just makes him want to ruin you again, until you forget your own fucking name.

"Insane," he mutters into your hair, mouth curling into a grin.

But you're his insane, and that's all that fucking matters.

[slut4megantheestallion]

"Mine to ruin" - Jinx (arcane)

Mdni. Bottom!reader, strap-on usage, Dom!Jinx, wlw, wlw x reader, teasing, dirty talk, Doggystyle, breeding kink.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

The dim neon lights painted by the walls in shifting hues, pulsing in the time in with your heartbeat. The mattress beneath you creaked, your mascara messed up from the hot kissing you had with jinx before you ended up in the ended up in bed in a doggystyle position. Jinx pressed her body against yours, her fingers trailing over the back of your skin like she was memorizing every inch.

"Damn, sweets..." her voice was a low, sultry purr. "Look at you. Bent over for me. With my cock inside of you, just beggin' to get wrecked. You're so good for me, y'know that?"

Her hands roam, fingers digging into your hips as she rolled her hips against you thrusting into you, slow at first, teasing, making you whimper as you whimper in frustration as you grip on the bed for some stability.

"AH~ Fuck! Jinx wants more, baby! Harder!~" You moan loudly impatiently as jinx chuckles at how desperate you are.

"Aww, you want more? What, this ain't enough for ya, slut?" She giggles, breath warm against your ear. "Nah, I think I wanna hear you beg for it first, toots~"

She pulled back, stopping just to let you feel the loss of her, making you arch towards her, desperate for friction. That's when she slammed the strap back into your core,sharp and deep, tears flowing in your eyes as hold tighter to the bed sheet as the bed creaked loudly, her fingers pressing bruises into your skin.

"F-Fuck, that's it. Take it, sweets. Take all of it." Her voice wavered, but the smugness never left. She loved watching you fall apart for her.

Jinx let's out a breathy chuckle, her pace unrelenting as she leaned over you, her lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Y'ever think about it?" She murmured. "Me... breeding you with cum and puttin' a baby in ya? Filling ya up real good 'til you're all swollen with me?"

Your breath hitched, a whimper past your lips turned on by the imagination of being pregnant and having jinx's babies, and jinx heard it. She felt it. And oh, she loved it.

"Ohh, you do like that, huh?" She giggled, nipping at your neck. "You want me to knock ya up, don'tcha? Wanna be my perfect little breedin' bunny, all around 'n full for me?"

Her thrusts grew rough, deeper, her nails scraping down your back as she groaned, "Fuck, sweets... If I could, I'd stuff ya full of me, make sure ya can't walk straight, 'til everyone knows who ruined ya."

You gasped, hands clutching the sheets, and jinx smirked at how easy it was to unravel you. She gripped your chin, forcing you to turn your head just enough so she could kiss you, messy and desperate.

"I love seein' you like this," she purred against, your lips. "You're mine, sweets. Ain't nobody gonna touch you but me. And if they try? Heh... well, guess I'll just have to put a baby in ya so they really get the message."

Her laughter rang in your ears as she pushed you right to the edge, her voice dripping with possessions, obsession, love.

"C'mon, be good for me, sugar... Let me see you fall apart for me again."

And oh, you did.

Jinx didn't let up. Even when your body trembled beneath her, even when you gasped for breath, she just grinned and kept going, rolling her hops slow and deep, feeling the plastic toy, watching you twitch beneath her.

"Mmm, don't tell me you're done already?" She teased, finger dragging down your spine, making you shiver. "C'mon, sweets, you can hand a little more, can't ya?"

She leaned over you, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw- each one soft, almost loving, a sharp contrast to the way she was stilling rocking into you, drawing out every little whimper, every sharp inhale.

"Told ya, I ain't stoppin' til I'm sure you get it," she murmured against your skin. "Mine. Every part of ya. Ain't no one else ever gonna touch you like this."

Her grip tightened on your hips, her movements growing rougher as you felt the silicone of the strap, like she was trying to mark you from the inside out.

"Fuck, sweets, I wish I could fill you up for real. Watch you get round with me, all full 'n perfect."

Her words shiver down your spine, heat pooling deep in your core, and jinx felt it l because she laughed, breathy and smug.

"Ohh, you really like that, huh?" She cooed, pressing a hand to your stomach, fingers splaying out possessively. "Can practically feel ya squeezin' me everytime I talk about knockin' ya up. You're so easy, sweets. So fuckin' cute."

She pulled back just enough to slap your ass, the sharp sting making you yelp out in pain and pleasure, and she giggled, absolutely delighted.

"I could do this all night, sugar. Keep ya right here, nice 'n needy, fuck you 'til you're cryin' for me."

And with the way she was moving, the way she was whispering filthy things into your ear, you knew she meant it.

Jinx had no intention of stoppin until she'd wrung every last bit of pleasure from you- until you were shaking and gasping and utterly wrecked.

And honestly? You didn't want her to.

(Based on the jinx idea post I posted a few days ago, instead of her fucking you on the couch I changed it into the bed, instead.

[joelsmeadow]

Forbidden Fruit [Part 1] - Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

Summary: he's been watching you for longer than he can remember, thinking he's too old for you, too dangerous. It's easier to keep people at arm's length, and he isn't the roughened lover he used to be. Turns out you don't care much for what he used to be.

Warnings & Contents: age difference (unspecified, can be as large or small as you'd like) | unsafe sex | Vaguely misogynistic language (not from Joel) | past Reader x Tommy mention | dirty talk | praise | pet names | size difference implied IE Joel's hands are larger than Reader's | unprotected PIV | Enthusiastic consent | Fluffier than expected | creampies oops | guaranteed happy ending

Note: I got this out before episode two dropped. There are no spoilers here, just old man Joel being loved.

Word Count: 3.8k. || Part Two Here

- x. -

Joel knows that deep down, he's not the good guy that he tries to be in Jackson. That no amount of hard work and somewhat begrudging neighbourly behaviour will truly ever mask what he really is. 

He does a damn good job hiding it, though. Looks almost unassuming with his greying curls, the crows feet forming round his eyes, the glasses he wears more often than not. 

Then there's you. God knows how much younger than him - does it really matter, when he's pushing sixty and you're clearly not - and full of life. 

He sees you around and just one look at you gets him half hard; you don't even have to fucking do anything, just be wandering past and give him a friendly wave, a half smile. 

He finds his eyes glued to your ass more often than not, given your standard attire of a pastel plaid shirt and jeans does nothing to hide your figure. He feels like a dirty old man each and every fucking time, but he can't help it. Especially when you wander past to get ready for a patrol, an honest to god cowboy hat perched on your head, a lasso and a gun on your hip. 

It makes some deep buried dark and depraved part of him wish he was still the cocky, confident bastard he once was. The kind who would have no problem whatsoever with talking to you and getting exactly what he wanted. Age has made him hesitate, though, and so he sort of just contends himself with trying to be as subtle as possible with his stares. 

He'd be lying if he said he thought of anything else when he fucked his own hand each night, though. 

Imagining you. How you might look spread out beneath him. On top of him. How you might sound with his name on your stupidly pouty lips, which he absolutely hasn't made note of or anything. 

Joel likes to think he's completely subtle in his interest in you, thinks he might just be burning up inside with his own desires and need, until Tommy calls him the fuck out for it one night. 

They're in the bar long after closing time, just the two of them, perks of Tommy being on the governing council, Joel guesses, and two or three glasses of whiskey deep. 

"Don't know why you don't just go after her, y'know." Tommy takes a long sip of his drink. Gives Joel a smirk that he never thought he'd see again, given his younger brother is all settled down now, married with a kid and whatnot. 

"You know damn well why not." Joel snipes back, refills his glass with a narrowed gaze. "'M too old and I'm too fuckin' dangerous. She'd probably break or something." 

Tommy just laughs. But it's more like his old laugh. The slightly dark sound that Joel hasn't heard in years that makes him goddamn certain his brother knows something he doesn't. 

"What?"

"Nothin'," Tommy says, tossing another cube of ice into his glass, swirls it around. "Don't blame you for lookin'. Girl's got a sweet ass, and damn, she can ride, too."

There's that tone again, the one that says he definitely knows something. More than knows something. So Joel gives him that look he does that always inevitably has Tommy spilling the beans. 

"And how d'you know the girl can ride, huh?"

Tommy snorts, drags a hand through his messy black curls. 

"Wasn't always with Maria, ya know. Back when I first came to Jackson... girl can handle her way around a saddle. Ain't half as cocky when she was gushin' all over my cock in a hay bale. Tell y'somethin, never seen a prettier sight than a cockdrunk woman." 

He downs the rest of his drink before he shoots Joel a crooked grin. 

"And trust me on this one too - she loves her an older man."

Joel doesn't want details. Doesn't care much about something that happened six or so years ago. 

What he does take from the conversation stays worked into his head over the next few days. He's just thinking he might make some excuse to leave his office early, to go home so he can either drink himself senseless or fuck his own fist until he has some semblance of self control again. 

He's still debating which it'll be when someone knocks on his office door; he looks up, about to tell whoever it is to fuck off, and instead stops. Because there you fucking are, your hair pulled off your face, still windswept. Dressed in a pastel purple and blue plaid shirt, another pair of jeans that should be fucking outlawed and worn cowboy boots. 

“Hey, Joel.”

Vaguely, he wonders if this is the first time he’s actually registered you saying his name; he likes the way it sounds in your voice.

“Hey. What can I do for you?” He can’t help but sense some sort of mischief, wonders whether Tommy has decided to interfere, again, in something he has no business in.

“Oh, uh, Tommy said you were the one to go to if the barn door got caught again?”

Joel registers what you’re saying, can’t help but listen to the way his brother’s name sounds in your mouth, as if he’s looking to see if there’s any hint of any sort of affection in it, but he finds none.

He also thinks his goddamn brother is full of shit, because he knows damn well that Tommy is just as capable of fixing the stupid barn door. But Joel is nothing if not an opportunist, and he sees exactly what’s being offered here – an opportunity.

So he gets up out of his chair, pockets his glasses, and gives you a nod.

“Sure. Let’s go get that fixed up before dark.”

-            X     -

You’re aware of the sheer size of the man beside you as you help him lift the barn door back onto the track it usually slides in. He must be at least sixty, and yet he’s so big and broad that it doesn’t quite show. That doesn’t mean you’re oblivious to the greying curls, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. You’re not blind. Maybe you’re just fucked up, because you’ve always preferred older men, at least, since the outbreak.

Maybe it’s some convoluted thought that someone older might be able to keep you safe. As if you aren’t a damn good shot yourself. As if you aren’t entirely capable of keeping yourself safe.

You haven’t been as oblivious to his stares as he thinks. No, Joel Miller is not a subtle man, not anymore. Never has been.

That, and you’ve seen a similar look on his brother’s face, once upon a time. The kind of look that says they want to devour you. To do things to you that’ll make your toes curl.

Like you haven’t been watching Joel since he first set foot in Jackson. Figured maybe you were too young, too out of range of his usual type, whatever the fuck that was.

And then you’d noticed him watching you, dared to perhaps hope, but never make the first move. Until now.

“Thanks for the help,” you say as you test the door, pull it open and closed to make sure it isn’t stuck again.

“’S fine,” Joel answers, shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Walk you home?” You offer, and the hint of a smile curves his mouth.

“Don’t know that I’m the one who needs a chaperone to walk round after dark.”

You laugh lightly as he falls into step with you regardless.

“Ah, Joel, nobody would be stupid enough to lay a hand on me.”

You don’t entirely believe that, but confidence is certainly part of it, and the last thing you want is for him to think you’re someone weak and scared.

“Why, you got some scary ass husband or somethin’ I don’t know about?” Joel asks, and you can hear the hint of jealousy in his tone, even if he thinks you won’t; it lights up something in your belly that trails all the way down to your core.

“Pff, no. No husband. No boyfriend. Just me, and apparently I’m scary enough.”

You give him time to take all that in, but that means you arrive at his house far too soon with very little progression in conversation. You’re almost feeling disappointed when he speaks again.

“Comin’ in for a drink?”

Joel isn’t sure where that confidence came from. Maybe the way you’ve confirmed there’s no significant other in your life. The almost flirty way you’ve spoken to him. The way you had seemingly no issue getting up in his space as you fixed the barn door.

He notices, too, the way your eyes flicker with something like triumph at the offer, before you just nod, follow him up the steps and into the house.

-            X     -

Joel watches the way your lips curve around the glass tumbler, and he really thinks he should be more focused on his own liquor consumption at his age more than the way it looks, but he can’t help it.

Unbidden, his mind gives him a picture of your lips wrapped around something else entirely, and for the first time since Tommy shared his little bit of “wisdom” about you the other night, he resents his brother for it. Because of fucking course his goddamn brother would have had the balls to just make a move. So why doesn’t he?

As he’s pondering this, he’s oblivious to your gaze, focused on him over the rim of your glass. They’re so alike, and yet so different, the Miller brothers. You haven’t quite worked out what makes Joel tick yet, can sense a sort of brooding, shut off darkness in him that you aren’t entirely certain you’d like to see unleashed.

What you do know, though, is that you’ve caught his eyes on you more than once. That you want him, even if it’s only for one night, that you don’t care if he shreds your heart to pieces after, so long as you get one single night where you can see what it’s like to be his.

And so while he’s still lost in thought, you down the rest of your drink and cross from your chair to his, straddle his lap and tap him lightly on the cheek.

“Hey, still with me?”

Not a lot takes Joel by surprise; he wasn’t sure what to expect when you moved, but to find you in his lap is definitely unexpected. He puts his half-finished drink to the side and just looks at you for a second, tries to will his cock into behaving, but it’s too late, he’s already hard as fuck, uncomfortable in his jeans with you pressed against him, and you both know it.

“What’re you doin’, sweetheart?” He manages to get out, because he’s got to be sure you’re not just fucking with him, or making some poor decision fuelled by liquor, even though he doubts the single drink has even touched the sides.

“What’s it look like?” You can feel how hard he is, can’t help but rock into him slightly, taunting, teasing, because God forbid you actually want this.

“Makin’ a real poor decision?” Joel regrets saying it as soon as he does so, and it shows on his face; luckily you ignore him.

“You want me to stop?” you ask instead, your hands at the buttons of the flannel shirt he always wears, a well loved dark green thing that you think sets off the olive tones to his skin perfectly.

He shakes his head so fast he almost feels dizzy, because there’s no way in hell he wants you to stop, but he wants you to understand what you might be getting yourself into.

“Fuck, no,” he almost growls it out, leans in to press a kiss to your bare collarbone where your shirt has fallen. “More just… I'm an old man, darlin', but I've never been good at bein' gentle."

You just laugh, because you don’t want gentle. You don’t want young and sweet and inexperienced. You want whatever the hell is lurking behind his tired gaze.

Still, he doesn’t move until you lean in first, press those pouting lips against his, part them so he can taste liquor and strawberries on your tongue. It’s not until you grind down against him again and moan into his mouth that he reacts.

Then whatever control he has left (which isn’t much) snaps, his hands pushing up your shirt; glad he had the foresight to build a fire when you got in, because the last thing he wants is you shivering for any reason that isn't good, isn't at his hands. 

You figure he isn't moving fast enough, help him shed your layers of clothing one by one until you're in his lap in just your emerald green panties, and fuck if Joel doesn't think the colour looks good on you.

His hands are wandering, up from your hips, slowly, cupping your tits and rubbing his roughened thumbs across your peaked nipples. You almost wish you could get him naked, but the most he'll allow is a few buttons of his shirt undone. Not that you're about to complain, so full of want for him that you'll take whatever he gives you.

You can feel the fabric of your panties getting damper with every hungry, open mouthed kiss, your little moans muffled as he slowly draws circles with his thumbs around your nipples, humming when he feels you react.

"Sensitive, huh?" His dark eyes stay fixed on yours as he pinches your nipples gently, making your back arch slightly. "Yeah you are, aren't you, sweetheart?"

You just nod, grinding yourself down against the thick length of him, your hands finding his belt buckle.

He doesn't stop you, too preoccupied with playing with your tits, the way you lean into his touch. Your hand unzips his jeans, frees his cock from the too tight confines, and slowly strokes, drawing a low groan from his chest.

Fuck, but you know what you're doing, slow practised strokes from base to tip, gentle twists of your wrist when you reach the thick head of him, spreading the precum that drips heavily along his length.

"Fuck, sweetheart, don't make me cum before I've got you there-" he warns, and you laugh, not at him, but because you're so fucking pleased that you're having that much of an effect on him.

He shuts you up effectively though, slides one rough hand into your panties and almost immediately finds your swollen clit, rubs circles on it with his thumb, smirking at how soaked he finds you.

"Christ. Don't even need t'get you ready for me, do I?"

You shake your head, but he does it anyway; nobody can say he isn't merciful, Joel thinks, as he slides his index and middle finger into your wet heat, drawing a filthy sound from you as he curls them deep.

He kisses you again, rough and needy, thinks about how if he was five, ten years younger he'd pick you up, carry you to the nearest horizontal surface and fuck you into it. The thought makes his cock throb painfully, but even this is enough, having you in his lap, writhing on his fingers...

You're aware of his mouth on you; on your throat, your collarbones, your nipples, then he moves his fingers a little more and you're aware of nothing beyond your own pleasure, your cunt weeping onto the thick digits as he continues to move them, not stopping until he's absolutely certain you're through it.

"So fuckin' pretty for me, baby. You want to come sit on my cock now?"

Slowly, slowly, he slides his fingers out, enjoys the dazed look on your face as you nod; your ruined panties are dragged down, tossed aside, then you're there, intimately close as he lines himself up, catches the tip of his cock at your soaked entrance.

He lets you sink down onto him with little to no guidance; groans when your hips meet far sooner than he expected. 

"Fuck, there's a good girl-"

You make a sound of assent, wriggle in his lap to get comfortable, only serving to make his cock twitch inside you and drag another pretty little sound out.

"You like how it feels?" He knows you do, can tell by the way your pussy tightens around him, trying to pull him in deeper, but he wants to hear you say it, almost needs the ego boost.

"Y-yeah," you breathe out, then, "Joel-"

His name is drawn out, a half plea for something that he isn't quite sure about.

"What d'you need, honey?"

"Need you to move," your voice is almost demanding, somewhere between pleading and insistent, but you'll get what you want regardless.

Joel keeps his hands on your hips, giving you some semblance of control still, but he starts to move, slowly rocking his hips up as you rest your forehead against his.

So maybe it's not what he first pictured, not what he'd have done to you ten years ago, but it doesn't quite matter to him, not when he can feel how wet and tight you are around him, hear every single pathetic little noise you make for him.

Your fingers drag through greying curls, tugging lightly; you're rewarded with another low groan, more like a growl, as his hips snap upwards sharply against yours. You don't get to savour that victory, too preoccupied by the suddenly rougher pace.

"Fuck, Joel-" You gasp and he laughs, tightens his grip on your ass to bounce you on his cock just that little bit harder, faster, hitting all the right places inside.

"That's it, good girl," he presses greedy, open mouthed kisses to your throat, keeping up the pace, feeling you tightening around him and knowing without a doubt that you're close already, so worked up for him that tipping you over the edge will be almost easy.

"Such a tight, sweet little cunt, baby, made to take my cock, weren't you?" The filthy words pour out before he can stop them, but you're responsive to those, too, clinging to him, moaning as his cock hits your sweet spot again and again,  getting you closer; you try to hold it off, don't want this to be over yet. But God if it isn't difficult.

Joel can feel you trying not to cum, can feel you holding yourself back.

"C'mon, sweetheart, go ahead and cum for me.  Y'really think this is gonna be the only time I give you my cock, sweet girl? Fuck, gonna keep this pretty pussy full of me til you get sick of it."

You gasp a moan, because there's no way in hell you could ever get tired of this, of the hint of roughness and the burning passion with which he handles you. 

Regardless, once he gives you that permission, even though you didn't need it, your resolve breaks; he presses in deep, grinds his hips against yours so the coarse curls at the base of him brush your over-sensitive clit, and then you're gone, spots in your vision as you cling to him, your cunt fluttering and throbbing around the thick cock splitting you open as your release drips down him, soaking his lap. 

Joel groans, almost cums right there, because he can count on both hands and feet how long it's been since he made a woman cum so hard, felt a pussy spasm around his cock and gush fluids into his lap.  Fuck, if he doesn't love it.

"Not gonna last much longer, sweetheart," he warns, voice low and rough as he rubs circles on your back, trying to get you through it whilst holding back his own release.

"Please-" Your voice is hoarse, eyes wide and pleading as you look at him, not bothering to finish your sentence and instead leaning in to kiss him.

It's the kiss that pushes him over the edge; years of rough, emotionless encounters, against walls. Bent over surfaces. And here you are, younger than him, softer somehow, kissing him like he's someone good and deserving.

He knows he should pull out of you but it's too late, his cock aches and twitches inside you as his release fills your still fluttering cunt, breaking the kiss only so he can rest his head on your shoulder and try to breathe.

Then your hands are in his hair again, stroking through the soft curls, getting him through the aftermath of his climax with the same gentle touch he gave you.

"Joel," you whisper his name and this time it's not a plea, not an impassioned moan, just your voice being gentle as you continue to stroke his hair.

"Hm?" He's content to just stay like this, actually, even if his joints are starting to protest. He'll deal with that later for another five, ten, fifteen minutes of this with you.

"You don't fuck like an old man." Your voice is soft. Sleepy. Like he's fucked any fire inside you out of you, lulled you into a sense of safety.

Joel can't help it. He laughs, a proper laugh that barely anyone gets out of him these days.

"Guess not, huh."

He feels his softening cock slip out of you, wraps his arms around you and tucks you against his chest.

"Can we do this again?" You dare to ask, because you're feeling sleepy and stupid and high on him, on the feeling of his seed slowly dripping down your thighs as he presses little kisses to your head.

Joel looks down at you for a moment, understands you don't mean right now, but in a sort of ambiguous future way.

"Yeah, sweetheart. Whenever you want. You want a blanket or something?"

Because inexplicably he's worried that you might be cold, as if he's only been watching you to think with his cock and doesn't actually, possibly, maybe care.

You shake your head and nuzzle back into his chest.

"Can we just stay like this for a minute?" You ask instead, and Joel nods, because he really does need to catch his breath, and even if his knees are protesting, he doesn't give a damn, because you're nice and warm in his lap and you fit there just right, like you were made to fit there.

"Yeah, baby. As long as you want."

It won't occur to him until maybe a week or so later, when you're picking strawberries in the greenhouse, that that should have been the moment he realised he was a total, utter goner.

[littlelovelunette]

story idea : mechanic!sevika x married!rich!r who's husband is away at work and the maids tell sevika that the marriage is in shambles and sevika takes the green light (g!p sevika please?) 🥺❤️

Save Me From This

Mechanic!Sevika x Married!Reader

Contains g!p Sevika (doesn't mention it in the story though), mentions of divorce

Normally, people would take their cars to the mechanics but you were rich, you could be doing a million other things than take a car to a shop.

Instead, you have the mechanic come over, because why not?

"Remind me again, why one would agree to this?" Sevika questioned the maid that led her to the garage.

"The pay is great," the woman replied, "Well, I'm Peyton."

"Sevika."

"You need anything, just call me," she smiled kindly before going to the exit of the garage.

"Wait, Peyton," Sevika said suddenly making the other woman halt.

"Yeah?"

"I don't even have any idea the type of people I'm working for, I barely collected the intel of their last name 'Hayes'," Sevika said, putting down her toolbox and crossing her muscular biceps, "Enlighten me?"

"Well, for starters, they are filthy rich," Peyton said sounding almost bitter, "But between you and I, I'm aware that her husband has a mistress."

"Does Mrs. Hayes know, too?" Sevika asked after a pause of contemplation.

"Of course, she does, she's smart I tell you," Peyton paused, "Although, she likes to pretend she doesn't know anything, she does. Their marriage is in shambles."

"Shambles? It's that bad?" Sevika leaned against the wall, as if deep in thought.

"Well, I've heard that Mrs. Hayes is filing for a divorce soon and rumours say her husband is trying to cut her off financially."

"Oh, so she lives off her husband's funds?"

"No, not really, she's a business mastermind. She owns multiple businesses globally and honestly, it's Mr. Hayes who should be worrying," Peyton said with a grin. She must really hate Mr. Hayes.

"So... You're telling me Mrs. Hayes is richer than her husband?" Sevika asked skeptically.

"Yeah, what can I say, she's a self established woman. I really look upto her," Peyton said, almost blushing.

"I can see why you do," Sevika smirked slightly, she loved women who knew how to handle themselves.

"Anyway, I should leave and get to my work or Mrs. Hayes will bite my head off," Peyton laughed.

"Yeah, I'll do, too. Nice meeting you, Peyton."

"Nice meeting you, too."

You were in your room, silently going over the divorce papers. Your fingers absentmindedly played with the pen before you let out a sigh.

"Ma'am," one of the maids knocked at the door, "The mechanic is done with the work, would you like me to take the payment to her? Or would you like to see the work?"

"I'm coming in a bit," you answered, getting up with a small groan.

"Okay, ma'am."

You dropped the pen on the table and walked towards the door, opening it and peeking out. The halls were deserted. With a deep exhale you walked to the garage, opening it with your heavily manicured hand. And oh damn, the mechanic. You walked inside, your heels click-clacking against the floor as you stopped in front of her.

"I've done what you've asked of me, Mrs. Hayes," Sevika said, looking at you. She was in a wife pleaser which was now stained with oil and grease. You could almost see her abs through it. "Mrs. Hayes?" Sevika called again, "You're staring."

"No, right, I mean, sorry," you stumbled over your words, "You don't have to call me Mrs. Hayes, you can just call me by my first name," you said before giving her your first name.

"Oh, I'm Sevika," Sevika said and you nodded.

"Yeah, I know."

"Really? You didn't seem to be the type to pay attention to the staff," Sevika said with a slight smirk.

"Oh, I do, believe me, I do," you leaned against the car hood, "Just, the divorce has been a lot on my head, y'know?"

"I understand," Sevika leaned against the car too beside you, "Not that I've ever been in your place, but I have a gist."

You smiled slightly, looking up at her, "You're quite the woman."

"I could say the same for yourself," Sevika said, with a hint of flirtatiousness which you didn't fail to catch.

"Hey, would you be open to going out sometime?" You asked, nervously fiddling with your sleeve.

Sevika smiled, "Yeah, sure."

Your eyes lingered on Sevika's muscular frame, "I've never seen a woman so..."

"Buff? Yeah, I get that," Sevika said awkwardly scratching the back of her head, biceps flexing.

"Can I—?" You raised a hand and took a step closer, as if willing to touch her arm.

Sevika nodded giving you her consent. Her arm was muscly, sweat-glazed and looked so biteable.

"Wow," you mumbled under your breath, squeezing the hard muscle under your fingers, "You must work out a lot."

"A bit," Sevika underplayed it, enjoying your touch on her bicep. You both remained silent for a bit before Sevika said, "I should go home, get cleaned, and—"

"Do come back," you said, "Whenever you like," you quickly added, trying not to sound desperate.

"Is that right?" Sevika smirked, "What, you hopping from people to people, huh?"

"Well, men can be pigs," you said before adding, "You could just make me your Mistress," you winked.

Sevika's smirk darkened, a big calloused hand carefully gripping your waist, "Careful, pretty, don't get so ahead of yourself now..."

She seemed like she wanted to say something.

"But?" You grinned, hands placing on her chest.

"But it's definitely a nice thought."

Part 2??

[lorasdolly]

sevika, ambessa or vi can you do virgin reader who is like squirmy maybe some tears

𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚔𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢

You had asked Sevika to take your virginity because you trusted her most. She was your girlfriend and although it's been months and you still haven't had sex, she's been patient about. Said she doesn't mind taking care of herself.

Yet, today you were so needy, ovulating and demanding. You could feel how your panties stuck to your cunt, showcasing the need for your girlfriend. Every time she did anything, it turned you on even more.

When she was making breakfast in a wife-pleaser, holding your hand on the way to the gym, groaning and drying her wet hair with only a towel wrapped around her waist. You had seen her naked plenty of times, feeling desperate at the sight of her nude but never this much.

You knew it wasn't smart to make big decisions on a short notice, but your pussy wouldn't forgive you if you didn't let her fuck you already!

She was insisting on making sure you were certain about doing this, even while undressing you. She'd furrow her brows and look up at you, "You sure baby?" All you would do is nod your head and tug at her hair, not fond of the anticipation that came about you.

But once she finally got her hands on you, she began to ravage you.

Sevika held your body down tenderly, sighing as the tears welled in your eyes from being overwhelmed and anxious. She shushes you gently, wiping the tears with her thumb as she presses her digits from her other hand inside you.

You whine more, "I, I can't take it, 'Vika!" Your complaining makes her huff softly, kissing your tear-ridden cheek. She curls her fingers upwards, tips pressing against your gspot and using this as a chance to stretch you out more. Your hymen tore when she inserted two of her fingers, only ever using your clit to stimulate yourself.

"You can take it, you told me you could take it if I went slowly, baby." She coos, quickening the pace of curling her two digits. Your back arched off the mattress, moaning and slightly trying to get away from you. She tuts at that, bring her hand to circle your throat gently and keep you close. She hardly applied pressure on your throat, only treating you with upmost care.

"Don't run from it, 'kay?" You nod at her advice, nails digging into her shoulder as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. "Hng— 'Vika," She chuckled and kissed down your neck, biting softly. She was amused by the squelching noise, the way your slick gathered up and formed a white ring on her digits.

"Agh– 'Vika, weird knot in my tummy–!" You exclaimed, crying and squirming under her. It felt so good yet so foreign, you weren't sure how to react to this kind of stimulation. She supported and stabilized your body, fucking her fingers sloppily into your sopping cunt.

She observed how you clenched around them, "Greedy girl, y'know I need these back, hm?" She taunted, receiving a cute whine she yearned for so deeply. She responded with a mocking pout and just kept her movements going consistently. "You're about to cum baby, that's the weird feeling in your tummy,"

Her hand on your throat came to caress your tummy, not pumping her finger in and out but instead ramming them repeatedly into your g-spot. You whined, borderline filthy as you came around her fingers. "No more— 'Vika!"

She didn't stop there, slowing her fingers but still fucking you to help you ride the high. When she pulled out her fingers with a nasty squelching noise, you covered your face in embarrassment.

She chuckled and took your hands off your face, "Don't be ashamed, was so pretty doing that baby." She reassured, holding you against her body as the tears came to a slow halt and resulted in only sniffles,

"Thank you, 'Vika" You murmured sweetly into her neck, a soft sigh leaving her parted lips as she coddled you. "Glad it was you." You whispered.

[sturnioz]

꒰ STURNIOZ KINKMAS '24 ꒱ !

fan!reader finally gets her one on one time with pornstar!chris.

"are you ready?" chris asks you softly, his hand rubbing comforting massages on your shoulder as you nod your head nervously, a giddy smile spreading across your lips which chris chuckles at. "hey, don't be nervous.. pretend like the camera isn't even there."

"i don't know if i can do that." you admit as your eyes glance towards the camera that's set up beside the bed, ready to film you both.

you're not sure what made you agree to film with him for his next post—you were texting back and forth for a few weeks, sending lewd messages and photos of yourself in your prettiest underwear before he popped the question, asking if you wanted to be in his next video.

you think maybe it was the post-orgasm bliss that made you feel so confident enough to agree, but now, being faced to face with him, seeing his set up, the reality started to sink in on what you're doing, and despite you being a little excited... you were also shitting your pants.

"we don't have to do this y'know?" chris breaks it to you, giving you a reassuring smile that already has you swooning. "m'not gonna be pissed if you decide to back out now—you can even sit behind the camera 'n watch me if you want."

even though his offer of watching him sounds really tempting, you want this. you want this so badly that you've been non-stop thinking and dreaming about it — what it would feel like to have his body pressed against yours and his cock that you've seen so many times on your phone screen making you cum.

"i want to do this."

"yeah?" he presses once more, and you nod your head to assure him that you're all for this even if you are a little bit nervous. chris nods his head along with you, giving you another smile before leading you toward his bed. "get undressed f'me. all off."

one moment you're standing at the edge of the bed taking your clothes off, the next you're on it with chris' body over yours, his lips greedily attached to your own as he kisses you, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands slide down to your ass to squeeze the plump flesh, grinding his cock against your wet folds.

you're moaning and it's a little pathetic considering all he's doing at the moment is kissing and groping you. but it feels so good — too good to the point you're thinking you're dreaming, that this is all in your mind and you aren't truly here.

but the nibble chris gives your bottom lip, and tugging at it before pushing his tongue back into your mouth brings you back to reality, lacing your fingers through his messy hair as he tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

"need... need you inside me," you whisper against his lips as you briefly pull back, blinking up at him so prettily and needy. "need to feel it. want you to.. to fill me up, like you said on those texts."

"want me to fill this pretty pussy up?" chris murmurs as he leans up on his knees, making a show for the camera as his fingers move between your thighs, spreading your folds apart to show your weeping hole. "look at you.. so fuckin' gorgeous."

you make eye contact with the camera as chris slowly pushes himself inside, and you let out a sharp gasp, trying to adjust to the sheer size of him as your inner walls clench.

"shit—shit. oh my god—" you babble, panicking a little. "you—mmph—you're so big. i-i don't know if i can ta-take it."

"shh, s'okay, s'alright... you're good," chris whispers softly as he leans down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he pauses his movements, allowing you a moment to adjust as he murmurs against your lips. "just relax.. we'll go slow, yeah? let your sweet lil' pussy get used to my cock."

you whimper softly, your hips twitching as your gummy walls flutter around him, a burning ache between your thighs and inside your cunt causing you to wiggle to get comfortably, and chris gently strokes your cheeks.

"you're doin' so well." chris praises you, pressing his lips to your warm cheeks as he carefully begins to move, rocking his hips in shallow thrusts as he continues to mutter sweet words and leave gentle kisses across your jawline and neck. "takin' my cock like such a good girl."

your breathing grows heavier, starting to respond to the slow pace as you meet his thrusts, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper with a mewl of his name, vision slightly blurry as you stare at the camera that's recording you both, making you tense up a little.

"don't look at it," chris says quietly, gently coaxing your face away with his hand. "s'not there, remember? just me 'n you."

you nod your head quickly, your moans muffled by his lips when he kisses you again, rocking harder against you as he picks up the pace, panting against your mouth as he feels your cunt squeeze around him.

you weakly roll your hips up in circular motions, grinding against him to provide extra stimulation for your clit, all sounds consumed by his lips that continue to move greedily on yours.

however, you pull away from him to catch your breath when he moves faster, plunging into your pussy, his balls smacking against your skin with his hand gripping your jaw, gently pushing your head back to bite and suckle at your neck.

you inner walls ripple and quiver around his cock, getting lost in the feeling of his cock gliding in and out of your walls, and the sounds of his grunts and groans in your neck.

his mouth finds yours once again when his hips work harder, rutting you against the bed, your heart pounding wildly in your ears as you feel the knot in your tummy tighten.

"can feel it, sweetheart," his murmurs between kisses, his lips curling into a grin. "you gonna cum?"

the unusual sound that leaves you as you unexpectedly cum is something primal—a mix between a throaty moan and a whine that only gets noisier as chris works you through your orgasm, his mouth relentless against yours before he suddenly stills, his cock throbbing inside of you as he coats your insides with his own cum.

you cling to him tightly, lungs begging for oxygen as you pull away from his lips, panting desperately while chris rolls his hips, milking out the remains of his orgasm before letting out a deep exhale once he's finished.

he gently pulls away from you to lean up on his knees, looking down as he watches himself pull out of your opening, his cum dripping onto his sheets. you peer up at him with curiosity as he reaches over to grab his camera, his eyes flitting to yours for permission and you nod your head.

chris brings the camera to the mess between your legs, carefully parting your folds for a closer look at the mess before grinning, moving the camera up to his face—but he pauses, humming as he looks at you.

"kiss the camera," he murmurs to you, tapping against the lens as he brings it to your lips. "right here, sweetheart."

© STURNIOZ

[archangeldyke-all]

Saw this post and immediately thought "wow I miss CEO Sevika, this would make such a nice Angel prompt"

Not entirely sure of a premise for this but let's say....Sevika and Reader have a small fight in the morning and Reader Isn't Happy™. She gets over it rather quickly, but decides to lightly tease Sevika the rest of the day, including through meetings. After their last meeting, she traps Sev in her office and tells her "Eat it" as an "apology."

FUCK YESSS this is so hot ehhehe

men and minors dni

"heyyyy..." seamus trails off as he walks into the break room beside you. you glare up at him.

"i don't wanna hear it."

"i didn't even say anything!" seamus exclaims. he walks to the coffee maker, his eyes on you the entire time as he fiddles with it. you sigh.

"we're fighting." you explain.

seamus nods. "that much is clear."

you cringe. "is she being a bitch?" you ask. you know how your wife can get when you're not there to tell her to bite her tongue. seamus makes a squeaky noise, then gives you a constipated expression.

"no." he lies. you snort and shake your head.

"fuck. i'm sorry. she went behind my back and scheduled herself a meeting on her birthday weekend." you explain. seamus pouts and sits beside you.

"but you guys always do something fun for her birthday."

"i know. guess not this year." you say with a sad shrug.

in past years, your birthday celebrations ranged from fancy dinners to weekend getaways. but it's not even the fact that you're missing out on a nice date with your wife. it's more than that.

"she just-- she doesn't fuckin' take breaks unless i force her, y'know? and these past few years she hasn't tried to argue takin' her birthday off. i just finally thought i got her used to takin' care of herself and she goes behind my back to do this shit..."

seamus frowns and pats your shoulder. "if it makes you feel any better, she's clearly regretting her decision now."

you giggle a little. it does make you feel better. "i should go back in there, huh?" you ask.

seamus nods. "yes, please. i forgot how fuckin' scary she is without you. nearly pissed myself givin' her the morning report."

you giggle and pat seamus' shoulder. "you're a good friend."

"and you're a good wife!" he shouts behind you. you laugh and shake your head as you walk toward your shared office with sevika.

she's drawn all the blinds-- a clear sign that she's in a bad mood. you roll your eyes and take a deep breath, then push into the office.

sevika's eyes dart up from her desk, her gaze softening as it lands on you. something inside you flutters. she's still so sweet, even when she's pissing you off.

"seamus says you're being mean." you say, closing the door behind you. you lock it, not wanting anybody to walk in on you and sevika arguing. sevika sinks into her chair, guiltily.

"well, what do you expect? my wife's been giving me the cold shoulder all day."

you roll your eyes and walk over to sevika's desk, sitting in front of her. she smiles sweetly up at you, wrapping her arms around your legs. you shake your head in amusement. "you're not off the hook y'know." you sigh as you reach down to cup sevika's face, combing your fingers through her hair.

sevika nods in your grasp. "i know." she whispers. "does it make it any better if i tell you i cleared an entire week out for us at the end of the month?" she asks.

you have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing in excitement. "what?"

"i rearranged some things. booked us a room at our favorite little resort."

"you did, huh?" you ask. sevika kisses your hand and nods.

"i'm sorry." she says finally. "baby, i really am." she kisses a trail up your arm, nuzzling against the crook of your elbow. you frown down at your wife, trying your best to keep your resentment strong, but it's so hard when she's so cute. you can't believe this is the woman all your co-workers find scary, she's like a fucking puppy.

"mmm. i dunno if i can forgive you yet." you say.

sevika pouts. "what can i do to make it up to you?" she asks.

you giggle. you were hoping she'd ask that. you squish her cheeks together in your hands kissing her puckered lips, before letting go of your hold on her and turning around in her grip, laying yourself on her desk and wiggling your ass in her face just a bit.

"eat it." you say simply, pulling your skirt up and your panties to the side.

the sound sevika makes is equally endearing and arousing. something needy and guttural, a hint of surprise overwhelmed by a rush of need. she doesn't need to be told twice. you gasp as her hands smack your ass cheeks, spreading you open and humming as she takes a good look at you. you lean down onto your joint desks, grabbing your cardigan from the back of your chair to muffle your moans.

sevika spits on your asshole then dives forward, sloppily eating you out.

you shiver against the desks, reaching back to grab sevika's wrist. fuck she's good with her mouth. she's sloppy and passionate, her nose rubbing deliciously at your asshole while her tongue fucks your cunt. her chin's rubbing against your clit with her movements, and the little moans she's letting out at the taste of you are making you dizzy.

"fuck, i love you." you sigh, clawing at her forearm. sevika's free arm smacks your ass-- her response to your words. you giggle. "you piss me off sometimes but-- ah!" you giggle as sevika bites your inner thigh. "but you make up for it pretty well." you finish.

sevika chuckles against you and kisses her bite mark. "can't be fully forgiven 'til you cum on my tongue." she says. you snort.

"you're a freak." you say with glee. sevika giggles, then flicks your clit with her tongue. you gasp. "fuck-- please." you beg. sevika hums and sucks your clit into her mouth, her thumb working circles around your asshole. you groan and push back against her. "please!" you whine.

"shhhhh baby." sevika scolds, smacking your ass with an impact much louder than your whine had been. "somehow i'm the freak while you're beggin' for my fingers in your ass."

you growl and reach back, pulling sevika's face back toward your cunt by her hair. she muffles her giggles against you and continues her work, lapping up your arousal and working her thumb against your ass again. "fuck, i'm close." you whine.

sevika grunts against you, hooks her thumb inside you, and chuckles as you fall apart. you bury your face into your cardigan, trying to muffle your moans. judging by the way sevika's moaning against you, though, you aren't doing a very good job.

your body sags against the desks when sevika pulls away. she snorts, smacks your ass one last time, and straightens your clothes back out before pulling you to sit down in her lap.

you sigh dreamily, letting your head lean back on her shoulder, kissing her cheek as she caresses your body.

"so... am i forgiven?" she asks. you giggle.

"mmm. i guess."

sevika grins. "nice. you wanna help me with these tax forms?" she asks, gesturing to the pile of papers on her desk. you snort.

"hell no."

sevika pouts up at you, and you wiggle in her lap against her hard, hot, trapped dick. "f-fuck, watch it baby!" she whines.

you laugh. "how about i crawl under our desks and take care of this for you while you do all the boring paperwork for me, hmm?"

sevika's smile is blinding. fuck, how hopelessly in love with someone do you have to be that the sight of their tooth gap turns you on?

"that sounds like a real good plan, baby." she says. you giggle and shimmy off her lap, only to be stopped by her arms wrapping around your waist. "wait." she whispers. you turn to face her, ready to ask what she needs, when she leans forward and kisses you sweetly. she pulls away, smiles at you, then shrugs and leans in to kiss you one more time. "okay. now you can blow me." she says.

you burst into giggles as you make your way under her desk.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom

[appocalipse]

that guy ⊹ steve harrington

summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.

It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.

To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.

You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.

"Hi."

You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"

"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."

A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.

How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?

You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.

"So...not the one, I take it?"

Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.

"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."

"Nothing is wrong with you."

"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"

The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."

Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.

"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."

"She does."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."

"At least you have one."

He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"

You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.

What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.

Until it wasn't.

"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."

"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."

Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"

You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."

"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"

Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.

Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.

"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."

"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.

Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"

"You...don't know him," you hedge.

"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."

"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."

Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."

The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.

You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."

"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.

You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?

You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.

"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."

Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.

The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.

No, you aren't going to cry.

This is stupid.

You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.

When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.

You don't have to look up to know that it's him.

"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.

"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.

There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

"You look just fine to me."

You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."

He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.

"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.

You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.

"I should've never asked. That was selfish."

"Forget it," you say.

He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.

You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.

"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."

"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."

"Yup. Exactly. In there."

"So you said."

"Yep."

The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—

He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.

"Okay, so—"

You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.

He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."

You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.

"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"

"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."

"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"

He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."

"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.

"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."

"Steve."

"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."

"Steve—"

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."

He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.

Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

"I don't—what?"

Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.

"This," Steve murmurs.

He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.

"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"I think I am."

His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.

"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"

You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.

"Yes. It's you."

A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.

You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.

"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."

A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Completely."

You kiss him this time.

[heich0e]

"what a surprise to see you here!"

you let out a long, weary sigh in the wake of the unduly jubilant exclamation, letting your bag hit the desk in front of you with a thump.

"i work here, gojo. just like you."

the aforementioned man steps into view around your shoulder, craning down into your face with that same easy grin he always wears—the one you find exhausting just to look at on days like today, because you know it means he plans on tormenting you for an extended period of time.

"and aren't we both so lucky to be here?" he hums, still smiling.

lucky?

you stand before him filthy and aching from the mission you'd just returned from, and with a night's worth of your students' assignments in hand you still need to grade by tomorrow morning. you're tired, and sore, and covered in curse guts and god only knows what else—and this smiling, obnoxious man hovering over you is calling you lucky.

you wish his blindfold was elasticated. if it was, you'd take hold of it, pull it back as far as you could, and let it snap it back over his eyes just to spite him.

"what do you want, gojo?" you don't even have the energy to sound annoyed anymore, the question leaving your lips in a lifeless monotone.

he pauses.

"you look terrible."

your head whips over to look at him again, and you immediately wince—a hand flying up to your neck. you think you must have strained it taking care of that last second grade curse. it hasn't been bothering you as much as the pain in your side, so you've mostly been ignoring it until now.

"gojo, if y—"

"gojo, gojo, gojo," he interrupts you before you can even manage to get the insult you'd been trying to say out. his tone is petulant, a little pout on his lips. "i've told you to call me satoru."

he enunciates each syllable of his name pointedly—like a reprimand.

"and why would I call you that?" you huff, tired of dealing with him. you grab your bag off the desktop, shove the stack of papers you'd come to your classroom to retrieve inside, and turn towards the door.

"because it's my name?" his tone lifts at the end like he's asking a question. "besides, you call sukuna by his name."

he's following along behind you. of course he's following behind you—you don't know why you expected to get away so easily.

"i call sukuna by his name because there's two itadoris now," you reply back, not that you owe him any kind of explanation. your steps are quick in spite of the stabbing pain in your side—literal, not figurative—but unfortunately it takes no effort at all for gojo to match your stride.

gojo groans a little. "how'd a guy that awful end up with such a cute little brother?" he whines, tipping his head back like he's lodging the complaint with a higher power. "my sweet yuuji and him have nothing in common beyond their family name."

you don't bother replying, stepping out from the main school building into the courtyard that leads towards the student dorms and teachers' residences. gojo is still close behind.

you find it ironic that gojo takes such issue with sukuna, a fellow sorcerer and jujutsu tech instructor, when there's no offence sukuna could be accused of that gojo himself is not equally guilty of committing. at least sukuna has the decency to not claim to be, well, decent.

there's something to be said for self-awareness.

"are you planning on following me the entire way home?" you ask him, irritation heavy in your voice.

"hey, i live there too, y'know," gojo counters.

barely, you can't help but think. gojo very rarely stays in his residence on campus. you're not sure where he spends all his time, whether it be a place off campus or even the gojo family compound, but you know it isn't here.

not that you particularly care.

"are geto and shoko busy tonight or something?" you ask again.

"suguru's away for a mission," gojo answers, seemingly not put off at all by the hostility in your tone. "shoko should be in her office, though."

you roll your eyes at his obvious evasion of your implication.

you freeze when you feel a hand touch your waist. the hand holding your bag goes limp at your side.

satoru is standing right behind you.

"your rib's broken."

it's quiet for a moment, but when you turn around, he's not smiling anymore and he's got his blindfold tugged down by one crooked finger. his eyes—the ones you so rarely see, the ones that make you feel equal parts awestruck and reviled—are on you.

"since shoko's in her office, you should go see her about it."

in one smooth motion, he covers his eyes again.

your teeth clench, your jaw tensing.

the next words you speak are barely audible through the barrier of your bite.

"what was that?" he asks, leaning forward in your space again.

you consider not repeating yourself, but all at once your resolve abandons you. you sigh, hanging your head and then you purse your lips in defeat.

"i c... i can't walk any further."

gojo laughs.

"i'm surprised you made it this far," he says, that bright smile of his back in place.

and so, a few minutes later, you find yourself with your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his waist as gojo carries you towards shoko's office in the infirmary.

"you're lucky i found you when i did, you know."

lucky. there he goes with that again.

you snort mirthlessly.

"and all you have to do to repay me is say 'thank you satoru!'" he exclaims, his voice rising an octave in what you can only assume is an offensive imitation of what you sound like to him.

"i'm not saying that," you mutter dourly, your grip on his neck tightening—though not enough to actually satisfy your desire to wring his neck.

"so stubborn," he tuts, but there's no real admonishment in his tone.

"i wouldn't call sukuna by his name if i didn't have to. but there's two itadoris, it just makes sense." you say after a while, the infirmary nearly in sight. you're grateful you're so close to relief, because the ache in your rib is so acute now that you're starting to feel lightheaded. you lean in closer to gojo's back as he carries you, letting him bear your weight a bit more. "there's only one gojo."

a breathy chuckle slips from his lips—so gentle it sounds almost involuntary. "only one gojo, huh?" he repeats your words, almost like he's mulling them over.

you hum affirmatively, letting your chin hook over his shoulder as he turns the final corner towards shoko's office. your eyes flutter closed. "yeah, lucky for me."

[lint-beetle4]

Wukong x Fem Reader smut

Wukong with a breeding kink and Y/n who's very motherly, especially with the little monkeys and that just fuels his kink more as well as the idea of having a family with her.

King and His Queen (Sun Wukong x Fem!Reader Smut)

Wukong knew you were the one the moment that you started to coo at the his younger subjects, eager to baby them and learn how to care for them

What more could a king ask of his queen then to help in the raising of his subjects?

Wukong would help new mothers with their children, and sometimes just take the younger ones out of their hands for the older monkeys to get some peace

With you at his side? He could feel an old emotion stir in his gut as you gushed over his baby monkeys

He always talked fondly about the littler subjects, how they were full of spark and innocence

The way you smiled at them had his heart stuttering, and the way you presented a child to him made his instincts buzz in him

It was a fantasy of his for you to bear his child, for him to be able to claim you as his mate by dumping his seed into you

He almost felt embarrassed by it, but the prospect of having a family with you was just as enticing

Wukong felt his old age at the thought of how time would pass away so quickly with a family like that

He wants to see your kids walk and talk, learn about the world outside of them and listen to Wukong's tales

Wukong wanted nothing more than to have cubs of his own, with you and the moment he asked he felt rather silly at the way he stammered through the question, watching your face shift from confused to understanding in record time

"I just think--y'know--if we had..um--" Wukong took a deep breath trying to force the words out of his mouth. "Cubs, y'know? Of course, this is a serious commitment and all but--"

You shushed Wukong with a knowing and excited smile. Wukong never seemed to get over his stage freight, even if the stage was simply the way you patiently waited for him to finish. Knowing your poor lover would tie his tongue trying to finish his proposal, you nodded.

"I would love to bear your cubs, Wukong." You hugged him tightly, feeling his arms wrap around with gently. "It would make me so happy if we could raise a family together."

Wukong laughed wetly, grabbing your face to kiss you as he tried his hardest to ignore the way his tears drenched his fur. You deepened the kiss, dragging Wukong closer to you as your heart pounded in your chest.

Wukong lifted you up, carrying you to your shared bedroom. He gave you a slight peck on the cheek, trailing down your neck as he removed your clothing, treating you as if you were porcelain. Wukong's hands fondled your breasts, brushing over nipples playfully as he bit onto your neck, sucking the skin tightly.

You hissed slightly, back arching as Wukong rolled your nipples between his fingers. His tongue was wet against the darkening bruise, and he trailed your body with more gentle kisses. With piercing gold eyes, Wukong never broke eye contact with you as he sucked on one of your breasts, biting the nipple slightly.

You moaned against him, your hips grinding against a well placed leg. As Wukong gave attention to other, your hands stroked his hair, fingers getting tangled in his wild mane. Wukong shivered at the way your nails scratched his scalp.

Wukong pulled away from your chest with an audible 'pop,' the sage's hand massaging your hips as his mouth breathed onto your wet pussy. Your hips bucked impatiently, Wukong sucking eagerly on your juices, his tongue sending waves of pleasure through your core. You whimper, hands holding Wukong's head closer as you grind into his face. Wukong ate you out furiously, lapping up your fluids as his tongue swirled around your clit.

You felt his fingers enter inside of you, curling slightly to hit your g-spot. You hum desperately as the duel sensation of his fingers and tongue overwhelmed you with intense waves of pleasure. Yet before you could cum, Wukong pulled away apologetically, holding his cock, wet with precum.

You spread your legs wider for him, begging him to enter.

Wordlessly, Wukong slid inside of you slowly, pausing to let you adjust to the painful stretch. At your command, Wukong bottomed out with a groan, his cock twitching inside of you.

"Breed me, Wukong." You breathed, grinding against his dick. "Fill me with your pups."

Wukong thrusted violent in you, more bites littering your neck as his movements become more desperate and animal-like. You wrapped your legs around the sage, his cock hitting deeply in your pussy. You continued to moan, nearly screaming as Wukong claw's tore through the covers.

With a growl and a final thrust, Wukong held you close, hugging you tightly as he filled you. You whimper, cumming around his cock. Wukong's purrs filled the air as he nuzzled against you, his cock still buried deep into you as it hardened once more.

"I'll fill you up, my queen." He muttered, hips thrusting once more. "I'll give you all my pups."

[sccrim]

sleepover ── rafe cameron

ʬʬ . warnings ▧ ▧ smut w plot , teasing , unprotected pnv , hair pulling , oral , ass slapping , degrading / praising , demanding , creampies

you and sarah are best friends. you guys decided to have a sleepover since rafe wasn’t going to be home for the night. so at least you thought.

shout out to the weeknd for his music bc i probably wouldn’t have made it this long and detailed w/o his music BAHAH.

you and sarah had just got done watching a movie. well— you finished it. sarah fell asleep 15 minutes before the movie ended. you grabbed the empty popcorn bag and cups— heading downstairs to clean everything up. you didn’t have to but you weren’t comfortable with leaving the place dirty.

after finishing, you decided to sit on the chair by the island table getting lost away to tiktok. you could have went back upstairs but you didn’t want to wake sarah up. maybe you should have though — when you heard the sound of someone trying to open the front door. your heart beating faster than normal. grabbing a knife and walking towards the door just to see the door knob turn. before you could even lift the knife up, you saw it was rafe.

"holy fuck, you scared me." taking a deep breath in and walking back to the kitchen. rafe not saying a word just staring at your ass switching back and forth. you had completely forgot you were in your underwear. "didn’t mean to scare you." he finally opened up. "it’s cool. thought you were staying at toppers." you placed the knife back. "i was but then ruthie came and i knew he was gonna wanna fuck her so i left."

"she didn’t bring a friend? y'know a two man." you laughed. "you thought i wouldn’t be home so you decide to walk around in your underwear?" you felt your face turn red. embarrassed at the fact that rafe just saw your pink lace underwear. "okay, embarrassing but yes." you kinda laughed to hold in the pain. "cute."

"sarah sleeping?"

"yeah, why?"

"just asking."

rafe bit the inside of his cheek, admiring your body. the way your tits sit so perfect in that tank top. your nipples piercing through. "hello, eyes up here." you didn’t mind the man staring but you couldn’t let him know that. "right— sorry. don’t want your boyfriend to get mad." rafe laughed. rafe could give two fucks if you had a boyfriend or not. he’ll still stare.

"oh yeah we broke up."

"whys that?"

"he cheated."

the silence filled the room up. "he cheated? on you?" he finally broke the silence. "yeah— but it’s okay. was gonna break up with him anyway." rafes face kind of lit up in excitement. "awh, what’s that?" trying to sound concerned, knowing damn well he wanted to rip your shirt and underwear off. "don’t wanna talk about it." you didn’t want to tell him the only reason you were gonna break up with your ex was because you had been having thoughts about someone else.

about a month ago, you were having dirty thoughts of rafe fucking the shit out of you. you wanted this man bad. you wanted him to rough you up to where you cried. as crazy as that sounds, it sounded perfect to you. "well, i should go to sleep now before sarah wakes up." you smiled at him. you began to walk but before you knew rafe picked you up, placing you on the cold island table.

"you know you look beautiful when the moon shines on your eyes." he lifted up your chin with his finger. "rafe—" you looked into his eyes. "hm?" he began kissing your neck. "i should go." you whispered. you didn’t want to go but you were nervous. this is rafe. rafe cameron. the rudest boy of outerbanks. this was your best friends brother!

"you want me to stop?" he started rubbing the outside of your underwear. he side smirked feeling that you were already wet for the man. "tell me to stop then." him teasing you. you wanted to tell him but all came out was— "fuck me."

"sorry what?"

"please fuck me."

"begging already?"

"not yet princess."

rafe unbuttoning his shorts. "get on your knees." he demanded. this is what you wanted. you wanted this man to control you. you jumped off the island table and got on your knees. you pulled down his boxers, already to see his dick rock solid. before he could even say something, his dick was already in your mouth. rafe moaned of pleasure. looking down at you, getting harder and turned on. he grabbed your hair and began to move your head deeper to his dick.

"fuck." he whispered. you began touching yourself hearing rafe moan out how good he was feeling. he pulls his dick out from your mouth and taps his dick on your lips, causing you to open your mouth again for him to slip it back in. "such a good fucking slut."

rafe picked you up and turned you around. you leaning on the kitchen counter. pulling your hair as he slipped his dick in you. "so fucking tight." he whispered in your ear as he began thrusting in you. "faster rafe." you whispered causing him to grab your hips and slam into you, going faster. both of you guys trying to catch your breaths. "shut up before sarah hears you." he slapped your ass.

"p-please don’t stop." you stuttered. "does your boyfriend make you feel this good." he asked. you nodding your head no. "speak up." his voice deepened. "no." rafe leaning his head up. "good."

rafe pulled out and before you could turn around, you just felt his tongue on your clit. "r-" he started moving his tongue in a circulating movement. "don’t stop." you whispered, moving your hips in the same movement he is moving his tongue. rafe jerking off at the same time. he didn’t want you to cum just yet. he was waiting for the moment he would cum too.

"oh god. don’t fucking stop." you repeated. you knew you were about to get to your climax. "i’m about to cum." rafe hurried and began to thrusted in you again. "don’t cum until i tell you too." he demanded. going fasted and deeper in you. rafe moaning knowing he was about to cum too. "fuck don’t cum yet princess, i’m almost there." he grabbed your hip tightly, leaving imprints of his hands there.

"okay cum for me." both of you guys moaning. rafe still thrusting from pleasure. "fuck." he whispered after finishing. rafe took his shirt off and cleaned you up with it. "you didn’t have to use your shirt. i know you love that shirt."

"it’s all good. i loved the fuck better." you guys both laughing. "this ass is mine now by the way." he slapped your ass one more time. "depends." you kissed your teeth. "what’s that supposed to mean."

"keep fucking me like that, then it’s all yours."

 sccrim — all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost , translate , or plagiarise my content.

[nakylvr]

can i req gp!daniela x f!reader smut with semi-public sex when danon were at that festival or whatever bc the photo dani posted on her ig (the one on the swing) is making me feel too many things

this was lowkey one of my favs to write...thank you for requesting anon! 🫶

— CARNIVAL 🛡️

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, f!reader, g!p!daniela, dom!daniela, sub!reader, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, mami kink, cumming inside

minors dni

you always enjoyed a good festival. so when you managed to score two-day tickets for you, daniela, and manon, you were ecstatic. you were one to bring a tent seeing as it went throughout the whole weekend and you had other friends who were there also, so you wanted a mutual meeting space for everyone.

for the second night, dani told you in advance that she would be there later with manon, having to stay at the house for their 1 year reunion (that was not live, as dani thoroughly explained, irritated that she would be late). so you were currently sitting outside the tent on one of the lawn chairs your friend had brought, a bit away from the crowd that was only growing as the night progressed.

"hey, yn!"

you look up hearing manon's voice, and a smile instantly forms on your face seeing her and dani walking up to you. standing up on your feet, you flatten your skirt and hold your arms out wide. manon quickly hugs you first before taking a step back and glancing around at the environment. "there's a lot more people tonight."

"well with carti headlining tonight it only makes sense," you respond as daniela silently wraps her arms around you. "hi, baby," your smile grows bigger as she rests her chin on your shoulder.

"you look really good," dani murmurs into your ear.

"thank you!" you beam as she pulls away, pecking her lips quickly. "i had a feeling you would like it."

"mm, well i do," she nods, her arms snaking around your waist. "a lot, in fact."

"i'm sure," you smile innocently at her, clearly seeing the way she was practically undressing you with her eyes. "but for now, let's go have some fun!"

after an hour or two of going on little rides and the giant swing the festival had, eating overpriced food, and hanging out, the night was nearing the time of the headliner to start. standing near the back of the crowd as the current performer finishes, daniela wraps her arms around you from behind, pulling you close against her.

"y'know we have at least fifteen minutes until the set starts," she mumbles into your ear, her fingers grazing your skin under the crop top you were wearing.

she starts leaving light kisses down your neck, and you know what she's trying to do. "you just can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?" you tilt your head to the side a bit, your hands on top of hers but not making any attempt to move her.

"not when you look this good," dani speaks quietly, her voice low so that only you can hear. "how can i when you're practically asking me to fuck you in this slutty outfit?"

"dani-"

"come with me," daniela cuts you off before you can get another word out, grabbing your hand as she starts walking away from the crowd.

"dani, where are we going?" you ask, but aren't really annoyed at her actions despite trying to be. you're not surprised, really. whenever you wore something she liked a little too much, she ended up doing this. dragging you off somewhere for a quickie before going back or going home depending on her mood. "dani," you say more sternly when she doesn't respond.

she doesn't answer you, stopping in front of the tent and unzipping it open. she gently pulls you inside before zipping it back up and closed again. turning around to face you, dani grabs you by your waist and kisses you roughly, her lips moving faster than you could keep up with.

"dani– this is way too public," you get out through kisses, your hands on her shoulders but not making any real attempt to push her off.

"no one will see," daniela murmurs, "you just gotta be quiet for me, you got that?" she says, her fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "c'mon, baby. don't leave me hanging like this." she grabs one of your hands, bringing it to her visible bulge in her baggy pants.

"you're so annoying, you know that?" you reply with a non-serious eye roll.

"you love me," she whispers, pulling you into another kiss.

laying you down on the floor of the tent, you peer up at dani as she fumbles with the buttons of her pants before sliding them down her legs along with her boxers. hiking your skirt up, she groans lowly at the evident wet patch on your panties, dragging her fingers up and down your clothed slit before pushing the material aside.

with one swift thrust, you can feel every vein and ridge of her cock filling you up, leaving you letting out a sharp gasp at the sudden intrusion. "fuck..." dani breathes out. "you're always so goddamn tight," she mumbles, starting to move her hips in a fast rhythm.

"oh my god, dani–" you're cut off of your moaning when one of daniela's hands clasps over your mouth firmly.

"shh, you gotta be quiet, baby," she says to you lowly. her other hand is secured on your waist as she pounds into you at a fast pace. "ju-just be quiet f' me," she grunts, her nails digging into your soft skin.

all you can do is nod your head, your moans coming out muffled past her hand as you try to be as quiet as possible. you stare up at your girlfriend who is so focused on getting to cum as quickly as possible, little grunts and whimpers escaping her mouth as she thrusts into you. she looks so good like this, too lost in her own pleasure that she doesn't even notice the noises she's making herself.

"fuck," daniela curses, leaning down and putting her face in the crook of your neck, her hips showing no sign of slowing down anytime soon. "god, you feel so good, baby."

your arms instinctively reach for her back, pulling her down closer to you while gripping her jacket tightly. your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel the tip of her cock hit your g-spot, moaning loudly through her hand and squirming under her touch. "fuck...mami," your words come out barely audible through the muffled voice of yours.

"shit," dani hisses into your ear hearing the title fall from your lips. "you always take me so good, so good, baby," she mumbles into your neck. your walls spasm around her cock at the words, clenching tightly causing her to groan lowly. "fuck..you gonna cum, baby?"

you nod your head feverishly, your grip on her jacket getting tighter as your moaning comes out louder as her hand loosens slightly from being so focused on getting off. "please," you whimper softly. "please, mami, 'm so close, please,"

"go on, baby," she tells you. her thrusts are becoming more sloppy and erratic as her breathing gets heavy against the skin of your neck, her hand leaving your mouth and trailing down your chest, reaching under your shirt and fondling your breast in her hand. your body shakes under her as your eyes roll back and you cum on her cock, your jaw falling slack in a silent scream. "fuck, 'm gonna cum. let-let me cum in you, please, baby," dani borderline begs, getting interrupted by more sighs and whimpers leaving her mouth.

"mhm," is all you can hum, nodding your head as your hand finds her hair and runs through it.

a long groan comes from dani as she thrusts into you one last time, filling you up and painting your walls white with her cum. panting heavily into your neck, she slowly pulls out of you, causing you to let out a quiet whimper at the feeling disappearing. pulling away from your neck, her hand moves up to cup your cheek, kissing you deeply.

"i love you," she mumbles against your lips, parting from the kiss. sitting back, she pulls her pants back on and buttons them up before pulling your skirt back down and flattening it, a small smirk on her face as she sees her cum dripping out from you. "don't worry, baby. we can leave as soon as carti's set is over."

you can't find it in you to roll your eyes at her words, merely nodding your head and letting her grab your hand to pull you up. "you're so annoying," you mumble, leaning against her.

"yet you love me," she whispers, smiling at you.

"i do."

[robinvomit]

⚠︎  carry me : damian.

⋆˙⟡ "let it take.. i want it to take."

⋆˙⟡ request: my damian with a breeding kink got a lot of attention. ↦ kalico note: once again; please just follow my rules of interaction. i'm not getting blamed for your desensitization. ( this is beta'd by four people TT. ) ↦ tw; breeding kink. reference to pregnancy. fem reader.

her legs were around his hips, ankles locked at the small of his back and he was already so deep inside her it felt like breathing had become secondary. her thoughts consumed only by the stretch and weight of him. damian's hands gripped her thighs, thumbs pressing into soft skin like he needed her there. anchored. open. his.

"fuck," he hissed, jaw tight as his forehead dropped to her shoulder. "you were made for this.. for me."

she gasped, hips lifting instinctively to meet him, and his breath caught.

"damian-"

"i'm not pulling out." it came out rough, pulled from a place he refused to acknowledge outside of the bedroom. "y'know that, right? i can't-"

"don't," she breathed. "don't you dare-"

his rhythm stuttered, then deepened, slower now and more deliberate. like he was moving with a very specific purpose. with intent. like he was making sure she'd feel him days from now.

"you want that?" he mumbled, voiced between soft breaths. "want me to come inside you? fill you up?"

"yes," she whispered, broken and urgent. "please, damian, fuck-"

his mouth found her throat, teeth scraping over her pulse and sucking marks into the skin.

"you'll take it," he muttered against her skin. "everything i give you."

she cried out beneath him and his control slipped. he drove into her harder, chasing the edge but still holding back just enough to feel her. every squeeze, every tremble. every inch of her pussy wrapped around him like it belonged to him and him alone.

"you don't know what you're asking for," he groaned, hips snapping harder now, voice dropping to something close to feral. the words that followed were filth, pressed close to her ear, the type of things he'd never say in any other situation; "you want me to fill this pretty pussy? fuck it nice and deep into you? make you carry me for days?"

a full body shudder rolled through her, walls fluttering as she arched up to him with nothing but a whimper. words caught in her throat and thoughts becoming fuzzy.

he choked on a moan and dropped his head to her shoulder once more. "you like being bred like this, don't you?" he barely managed to get out. "claimed, used, filled.. and fuck, you love every second of it-"

he buried himself deep following the words, and with a final thrust, he came with a sound that tore from his throat like it cost him something. his whole body shuddered above her, muscles tight as he spilled into her, keeping himself there, like emptying into her wasn't enough.

"mine," he whispered hoarsely. "you're fucking mine."

he stayed inside her, chest heaving, face pressed against her neck like he couldn't bear to lift his head just yet. his arms were slid to wrap tight around her waist, holding her there, flushed and trembling beneath him, her pussy twitching around his cock like she was trying to keep every drop.

he began whispering; not to her face. not to be heard clearly. just low, into her skin like confession.

"don't let it go," he breathed. "keep it. let it take. i want it to take."

one hand slid from it's hold, palm splaying over the low part of her stomach, as if he could will it into her body. "i want to see you swollen with me. full. glowing. mine."

his voice cracked on that last word. he pressed a kiss to her neck, then another, slower. maybe an apology, maybe worship.

"you don't know what it would do to me," he mumbled. "watching you carry what we made. knowing you feel me with every step. knowing you're not just mine now.. but for every fucking moment that comes next."

he shifted just slightly, grinding deeper like he didn't want a single drop to escape. like he wanted to fuck it into her again, slower this time, just to make sure. all she did was gasp and whimper in response.

"i should do it again," he muttered, half-gone, lost in thought of breeding her. "i should fuck you again. fill you again. just to be certain."

she finally shifted to respond, hand sliding over his on her stomach. "mm.. then do it," she said, breath shaky but sure. "again. as many times as it takes."

his head lifted and be stared at her, eyes dark and wide. 

"i want to carry you," she whispered, softer now, but no less certain. "i want to wake up tomorrow and feel you. still inside me. still holding."

she arched into him gently, her thighs already spreading again beneath his weight and he felt her pussy flutter around him. wet, ready, still open from the first time. still aching for more.

"i want it to take," she mumbled, cupping his face now, thumb brushing along his cheek. "want every part of you."

for the first time that night, damian didn't have words.

only breath, and only need.

he wasted no time in slotting their lips together before beginning to move again; slow and reverent, like he was thanking her for sharing the intention.