#like no you're mumbling you barely open your mouth

[kageyuh]

caught ya! | ★ nerd!armin arlert x roommate!reader pt. 1

cw/pairing: nerdy armin, glasses armin, catching armin beating his meat, masturbation, kinda nsfw (nothing wild), perverted? roommate armin x reader summary: you catch your roommate moaning your name during the act. you've always known he was a nerd, but who knew he was a pervert, too?

armin is a gooner.

you lost count of how many times you caught your glasses-framed roommate mid-sesh, fleshlight in hand, lube at the ready, sat on his desk chair with a hentai open and visible on his monitor.

it has become such a common occurrence, in fact, that you barely even flinch when you swing his door open today to pornographic moans and high pitched noises coming from the screen. the one thing you didn't expect, however, was him moaning your name as he pleasured himself.

you're frozen in place, hand hovering above the door handle as you process what you're hearing. you scooch closer to the wood, ear pressing against it to eavesdrop. but there's nothing but the moans of the characters that are likely gracing his screen with big busts and crevices.

were your ears playing tricks on you? there's no way that armin has a thing for you, right?

you're waiting, pressed against the door, when you hear the padding of footsteps. you stumble forward as the door swings open, revealing a panting, sweaty, and slightly confused armin.

his rectangle glasses are slightly foggy, and he's looking back and forth at you and the door before putting two and two together.

"were you spying on me?" he asks incredulously, stepping back as if he were a cowering rabbit. the horrified look on his face causes you to avoid his gaze.

"no," you lie out your ass, voice rising in pitch. you clear your throat. "i was just about to ask if you wanted to go see that new titan movie."

he's raising an eyebrow at your excuse. "right now?"

"yes, right now." you nod. you pull out your phone with swiftness, eager to change the topic. "next showing starts in 30, so we gotta leave now if we wanna catch it."

he's nodding along, seemingly unconvinced, but agrees. you let out a sigh of relief as he shuts his bedroom door again, mumbling a, 'just give me 5 minutes.'

the evening goes by swiftly, and the incident is pushed to the back of your mind for the rest of the week. armin's ramblings and theories about the series flood your head, and his moans from that day seem to be the least of your worries as midterms approach.

it's only a day before your chemistry exam, and you're approaching your roommate's door to ask him for help with the study packet.

it's closed, as usual, and you lift your knuckles to leave a knock on his door when a pitchy, strained moan makes you stop in your tracks.

"ngh- y/n, fuck..."

your jaw drops. that's not real, is it? before you can think, your hand is turning the doorknob, swinging the door open.

it's a mess. lube on the floor, fleshlight discarded on the desk, tissues scattered across the carpet. you don't even have time to analyze the setting you've just barged into before the blonde-haired boy is stumbling out of his gaming chair, mouth gaping like a fish as he stammers an excuse, hard, reddish cock still exposed in his hand.

"w-what the fuck?!" he's turning away now, attempting to shield his nudity. he's still donning his green top, and he struggles to stuff his cock into his khaki pants as he panics. "don't look!"

you cover your eyes, but an image from the corner of your gaze peaks your curiosity. "armin..." you start, slowly lifting a finger to point at the object. it's tiny, almost hard to miss, but it was stuffed messily into the drawer, causing the face on the polaroid to be exposed. "is that my picture?"

he yelps, hands darting out to snatch the photo from sight, hiding it behind his back. he's fully dressed now, but anxiously avoiding your curious gaze. "that's...private." he says, shifting his weight. "now what do you need? i was clearly in the middle of something."

"no, no." you're shaking your head, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. you're not going to let him off this time. "you were jerking off to my photo."

armin looks like a child who just got caught with their mother's makeup. he shuffles, eyes trained on the floor. "i wasn't."

you take a step closer to him, and he steps back cautiously. but before he can get any farther, you dart past him, snatching the polaroid from his fingertips.

"hey!" he's jumping, and you're tackled down onto his star-trek bedsheets as he attempts to wrestle the image out of your hands. when you catch a glimpse of it, you gasp.

it's a candid photo of you, short pajama shorts riding up so that the flesh of your ass is peeking out, and you're donned in a thin tank top that leaves little of your cleavage to the imagination. you had been seated at your desk, a mouthful of ramen puffing up your cheeks as you turned to face the sound of the camera with a shocked expression. heat creeps up your cheeks as you shriek. "why do you have this?!"

armin huffs, collapsing over you. "stop..." he grumbles, pushing his face into your chest. "you look hot in that."

his shy demeanor has your expression softening. you reach up to pat his hair soothingly. "it's alright, i'm not mad."

his head darts up in realization, eyes wide. "i swear 'm not a pervert, though!" he's defensive, lifting himself off your chest. "i-it's only because i like you a little!" he's rambling now, squirming in anxiety. "and the feelings will go away, so don't worry..." he trails, noticing your silence. he follows your gaze down to...oh.

his movement had landed you two in a rather precarious position, with your legs spread, him kneeling between them, and his crotch pressing against your core. with an obvious tent, of course, as it was still bulging from his...activities. and now that he's noticed this, his pants almost seem to get a little bit tighter.

also, his hand is on your boob.

he groans, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling. blush creeps onto his cheeks, and he almost feels like he's going to get a nosebleed from how perverse this scene is.

is this...his lucky pervert moment?

no. nope. nope! he shakes the thought from his head, springing up from the bed and drawing himself away from you. he had lowkey just confessed, and now he's thinking about your body? what a douchebag. he scolds himself internally. "i'm so sorry," he repeats frantically, arms waving in front of him. "i didn't mean to, i'm so sorry, i just--"

you cut him off with a wave of your hand, sitting up on his bed with a laugh. "armin. it's okay, trust me, i know it was an accident. and honestly, you can keep the photo. it doesn't bother me, but..." you eyes trail up his fidgeting figure as he attempts to cover his boner by pulling down his shirt. "will you be okay?" you say pointedly. your gaze is fixated on the bulge in his pants.

"y-yeah." he stutters, sweat dripping down his temple as the heat on his face rises. "sorry, can you get out now? i need to...take care of it." he mumbles ashamedly.

you cock your head curiously. you'd be lying if you said you never had a thing for your nerdy roommate, but all hope had long been lost since you determined his waifus would come before he'd set his sights on any real girls in his life. but now that his interest in you is real and tangible...

in that second, you make a decision.

"want me to help you out?"

a/n: should i continue this? (i will)

banners: the reason why the new issue is xxx is because of the new salesman MY FAVVV LOL

[slut4megantheestallion]

୨୧Sukuna being weirdly infatuated by his human girlfriend (sfw)

cw: fluff, possessive behavior, sukuna being a menace, light darkish yandere undertones, mild language.

It started off with the weird weight of his stare.

You've gotten used to it by now-almost. The way his gaze settles on your sleeping face like a hand, heavy and hot and impossibly still. He watches you like he's dissecting something, like he's trying to unravel you with his eyes. Sometimes, you wake up with a jolt, and he's already leaning over you, arms folded, face unreadable.

"You're twitchy," Sukuna mutters, voice low and scratchy like something old. "Guilty conscience?"

You don't bother answering. You're used to his comments, the way they hover between teasing and threat.

Tonight, though, he's extra... weird. Not in a violent way - those days are specific, intentional, but in that offbeat way he gets when he forgets what being human is like.

He's sitting at the edge of the futon, one hand resting on your thigh. His fingers tap- annoying, steady. When you peek one eye open, you find him already looking down at you. Eyes glowing faintly in the dim room.

"You're not that interesting, y'know," he says.

"Then stop caring," you grumble, voice rough with sleep.

He grins. That slow, unhurried curve of sharp teeth and something more sinister than amusement.

"I could. But then I might miss how stupid your face looks when you sleep." His hands lifts, and suddenly, he's poking your cheek. Hard.

You flinch. "Sukuna-!"

He presses again. Now both fingers, tugging your cheek like you're some stress ball. "You're soft. It's weird. I don't like it," he says flatly, even as he keeps doing it.

You swat at his hand, but he catches your wrist easily, pins it to the bed beside you. His grip is warm - too warm. Heat coils off of him like a furnace, a reminder that he's not like anything that should exist in this world.

"You have so many expressions," he mutters, gaze dragging over your face. "It's exhausting."

"Then leave."

"No." His reply is instant. Lazy but final. "You're mine."

You stare at him, and he just shrugs like it's the most casual statement in the world. Possession, obsession - it's not romantic with him. It's primal. He looks at you like a dragon cluled around treasure it doesn't understand. He doesn't love you the way a man should.

But still... he stays.

His hand slides to your chin, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. He leans closer, like he's trying to memorize the tiny details of your face, skin, the way your lashes flicker with each blink. You feel the slow curl of his breath when he exhales near your mouth.

"I could crush you," he says softly, almost thoughtfully. "Break every part of you and put you back together wrong. You'd still look at me like that."

You don't respond. You're not sure how to respond to something like that.

He tilts his head, studying you. Then, with zero warning, he pinches your nose.

"What the fu-Sukuna!"

"Just checking," he says, snickering. "Wanted to make sure you weren't a corpse. You're so still sometimes."

You roll over, trying to shove your face into the pillow. He let's you, but you can still feel his eyes on the back of your neck. Like the heat of a fire that won't die out

"Go to sleep, freak," you mumble.

"You're calling me a freak?" He laugh, voice echoing in the low-lit silence. "You're the one who sleeps like a baby next to the King of Curses. You've got issues, woman."

His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from your temple. Gentle, too gentle. It doesn't match the way he talks or looks or breathes.

"I could watch you forever," he mutters, barely above a whisper now. "And maybe I will. So don't die on me."

You blink slowly, eyes closing again. There's no real comfort in his words - only a strange, twisted kind of promise.

You drift off, eventually, despite the awareness of his presence. The weight of his stare doesn't fade, but his touch becomes still. He watches.

He always watches.

And even when you sleep, sukuna is still there. Like a curse that chose you.

[guiltyasdave]

making forts under covers

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~2k

summary: You and Joel wake up to a gloomy fall morning and all you want to do is drink your morning coffee and stay in bed.

warnings/tags: post outbreak, jackson!joel, fluff, unprotected p in v, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, so many pet names, Joel is a menace, tiny hints of dom!Joel but he's very very soft, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, this is very much a fix-it fic, nothing bad happened to him ever

rating: explicit 18+ content, MDNI!

a/n: this is the first joel that i've ever written, back in 2023, so if any of this sounds familiar, that's probably why. i have been thinking about these two lately, and because i'm not thaaat happy with my writing from two years ago, i thought i'd rewrite it. also, given that today was probably the last time that we'll ever see him on screen, it feels very fitting to say goodbye to him with this <3 (i'm not crying, you're crying)

find my full masterlist here & follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates! :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

Your eyes blink open slowly. The light that’s filtering into the room is gloomy, accompanied with the sound of rain pattering against the window. The bedroom air is chilly where it hits your bare skin and you burrow deeper under the covers. 

Joel is still asleep, laying on his side turned towards you. His body is warm, calling to you to move closer. 

You marvel at the sight of his handsome face. Relaxed, for once, his brow unfurrowed and his breath going slowly. It’s rare that you see him like this; usually he rises before you do, waking you up with a cup of steaming coffee and a soft kiss to your forehead, a “Good morning” mumbled into your hair. 

You like sleeping over at his place, like the routines that are slowly forming between you two, a feeling of familiarity that makes you feel like you belong. That makes you feel safe. 

You take in his face for a few more moments, a small smile tugging at your lips. Then, you quietly slip out of bed. Goosebumps erupt over your skin and you suppress a shiver before tugging on the flannel that Joel discarded on the chair in the corner last night. His scent clings to the soft fabric, engulfing you with the phantom of him. 

You pad down the stairs to the kitchen and busy yourself with preparing coffee for the both of you, then wander into the living room while it's brewing. Stopping in front of his bookshelf, you run your hand over the figure of an owl carved from wood that you’ve admired several times before. You picture Joel, his large, strong hands, crafting something this delicate, adding all the intricate details, transforming a simple piece of wood to this. The thought makes you smile. 

The smell of coffee, strong in your nose when you fill two cups, brings you a sense of comfort that you revel in. When you carry the cups back to the bedroom, Joel is still asleep. You set one on his nightstand, take a sip from your own coffee and slip back under the sheets to snuggle up to Joel. You nuzzle your face into his bare chest, inhaling his scent and enjoying the warmth that is radiating from his body. Joel grumbles and wraps one arm around you, encompassing you further in his body heat and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” he mutters, his voice still heavy with sleep, the words bleeding together. 

“Hi,” you smile, your eyes tracing over the mess of his hair and the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles back at you. You love seeing him like this, all soft and gentle, not shielded by the rough exterior that he builds up around himself. Stretching up in his arms, you reach his mouth with your lips. The kiss is languid, unhurried, moving slowly but deepening as his grip around your waist tightens. His fingers hit a ticklish spot and you giggle into his mouth, pecking his lips once more before pulling back. 

“I brought you coffee for once.”

Joel’s eyebrows rise, the corners of his lips pulling up when his eyes find the cup on the nightstand. He sits up against the headboard, pulling you with him until your back is leaning against his chest. His arm is slung around your shoulder while he picks up the coffee with his free hand and lets you do the same. 

“Thank you, darling,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. 

You both sip on your coffees for a few minutes, enjoying the peacefulness of the quiet morning. His fingers draw lazy circles on your arm and shoulder, his eyes falling down to the flannel that's halfway slipped off. 

“Nice shirt,” his low voice floats into your ear and you giggle.

“Thanks, I stole it.” 

He chuckles and tugs you closer as he finishes off his coffee, placing both of your cups on the nightstand. Carefully, he cups your face, tilting your chin up to kiss your mouth. The feeling of his big roughened palm against your cheek, combined with the gentle pressure of his touch and the warmth of it sinking into your skin has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Joel deepens the kiss, his tongue dipping out and licking over your bottom lip. You whimper softly and open your mouth for him, meeting his tongue with your own. His mustache scratches against your upper lip and heat starts pooling inside of you. 

“C’mere, darling,” his voice rumbles straight from his mouth into yours and he pulls you on top of him. 

Straddling his thighs, you melt into him as his arms wrap around you, pressing yourself against him. His scent engulfs you as he's running his hands down your sides, leaving a trail of heat over your body. Joel slides the flannel completely off of you and dips his hands under the tank top that you slept in. His touch on your bare skin makes you writhe in his lap, desperate for more, desperate to be closer. Your lips connect again and you mewl into his mouth, your hips grinding down on him and his hold tightens around your waist, pressing you onto his growing hardness.

“Shhh, I got you,” he murmurs as his mouth moves down to your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin there, causing you to shudder and sink your nails into his bare shoulders. He separates his lips from your skin to push the tank top up and off your body, revealing your breasts and your already pebbled nipples. He groans softly and leans forward to suck on your sensitive peaks, your back arching and pushing yourself closer to him.

“Joel, please—” you whine, “I need—”

He leans back, his hands on your sides again, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts with a featherlight touch.

“Yeah? What do you need, baby?”

You rock your hips against him, feeling his bulge press against your panties and another whimper falls from your lips.

“Need you, Joel, please—”

It's almost embarrassing, how quickly he gets you to this point, how little effort it takes. but you can't bring yourself to care, not when he's this close, with his hands all over your body and his achingly handsome face right in front of you.

He smiles and pulls you into him again, murmuring, “Need you, too,” before he seals his lips back over yours. Joel kisses you until you're breathless and squirming on top of him before he flips you over, his face hovering above yours. His hand travels down to your panties and dips beneath the fabric, finding you already slick and swollen with need. He circles your clit slowly, making you gasp and buck your hips up against his hand.

“You're so pretty like this. Just ready and waiting for me, aren't you?”

His hand trails down further, one finger dipping into your entrance.

“Yes, need you so badly, please Joel—”

Smirking, he adds a second finger and slowly pumps them into you. Your hips meet his rhythm instantly.

“I know, baby. Don't you worry, I'll take care of you. Being so good for me.”

The praise makes you keen, the fact that this usually so stoically quiet man can't stop running his mouth when you're together like this. All while he's reducing you to an incoherent mess that can barely get any words out.

You eagerly slip your hand into his underwear, wrapping your fingers around him, making him hiss and thrust his fingers particularly hard into you. You grab at his briefs, pulling them down his hips, wanting him as close as possible. He chuckles at your impatience but indulges you, his dark eyes betraying his own impatience and desperation for you.

Joel grabs his hard length and slides it through your folds, his precum mixing with your wetness. He nudges your clit teasingly with the head of his cock, causing you to moan and arch your hips up into his touch. Leaning down to kiss you again, his cock stretching your entrance wide, he whispers, “You want it, sweetheart?”, to which you respond with an eager nod. He tuts, cupping your face in his large hand.

“Words, baby. Tell me. Tell me what you want, how much you need it.”

You whine, your cheeks heating at the thought of putting your desire into words.

“I— I need it so much, Joel. Please?”

You bite your lip and he groans softly, murmuring, “So fucking good,” against your mouth as he pushes into you in one hard thrust, filling you up.

You cry out as your walls clench around him, trying to adjust to the sudden intrusion, to the way he always feels so big inside of you. The exquisite bliss that only Joel can bring you is taking over your body. Your hands grab at his shoulders, your nails digging into the skin and moans of his name falling from your lips as he pounds into you with long, deep movements. His mouth finds your neck again, sucking hard and biting down on your skin, before soothing the sting with his tongue.

His arms wrap around you and he holds you close while he keeps thrusting into you, whispering into your ear.

“Fuck, you're such a dream... So wet. Feels good, yeah? This what you wanted?”

You nod frantically, one of your hands scratching down his back while the other grabs at the curls on his neck as you're barely able to form words.

“S—so good Joel, fuck, 's perfect...”

He hums in smug agreement, his thrusts becoming even deeper and his fingers sliding between your bodies to toy with your clit. The heat inside your body threatens to spill over at his touch and you moan loudly, your earlier inhibitions about voicing your needs wiped from your mind.

“Yes! Just there, please— please don’t stop, oh God...”

He's drawing precise circles on your clit, keeping his gaze on your face as your eyes glaze over, your moans growing even louder.

“That's it. So tight around me, fuck... Show me how pretty you come for me, go on. I know you can.”

Your jaw falls slack and your whole body trembles, your walls clenching rhythmically around him and soaking him in your wetness as your orgasm washes over you. He growls at the feeling of you pulsing around his cock and pounds into you a few more times before he pulls out and spills himself over your stomach.

He stills, his head forward, both of you panting hard and not moving for a few moments. He leans forward to kiss your cheek, smiling at your blissed out expression, before he gets up from the bed and pads to the bathroom. He returns with a washcloth and cleans you up, gently stroking your sides with his fingertips and making you hum happily. Your whole body feels warm, sated, like you’re floating on a cloud. 

When Joel's finished, he collapses back beside you on the bed, a deep grunt in his throat. You turn around, wrapping the both of you up in his blanket and pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. 

“Good morning indeed,” you grin and he huffs a laugh, pulling you tighter into his embrace.

“You got anything planned today?” he asks after a moment of peaceful silence and you shake your head.

“Nope, I'm all yours.”

“Good,” he smiles, letting your head rest on his chest and pulling the blanket up to your chin, so that you're entirely shielded from the slight chill in the air. Gloomy light filters into the room and you can still hear the rain splattering against the window. Joel kisses your forehead softly.

“Let's just stay in bed, then.”

thank you for reading ♥️ reblogs and comments are love!

[mindmelter]

Reshaping Minds

It was a calm afternoon at the coffee lounge of a high-end hotel in Miami. The kind of place with overpriced lattes, but money was never a problem for me. I had my sunglasses on, my iced coffee in hand, and my radar fully tuned for potential fun. That’s when I saw him.

A goddamn tank of a man.

He stood near the espresso bar, stretching his thick arms in a tight navy-blue tee, making his muscles bulge like he was carved from marble, and his tribal tattoo wrapped around his huge bicep, making him hotter and manlier than everyone at the lounge. His beard was neatly trimmed, baseball cap turned backward, and he had that smug alpha energy straight dudes ooze when they think the world owes them a trophy.

He wasn't alone—They never are—His girlfriend was clinging to him like a purse, giggling at something he said. But I wasn’t looking at her. Heck no. I was focused on the fine piece of muscles that was her boyfriend.

I slid off my lounge chair, walked right up to them, and smiled. "Hey, you two look like you could use some fun."

The woman blinked at me confused. The man raised an eyebrow. "Uh, we’re good, man."

I tilted my head. "You sure? I mean, you’ve got all that meat on you, big guy. Seems like a waste if you’re not being properly used."

He turned to face me fully, clearly annoyed. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

I leaned in just slightly, grinning. "It means you're the kind of thick-brained, thick-bodied beefcake that's good for one thing. Being used. Bent. Owned."

His girlfriend gasped, pulling his arm. "Honey, let’s go. He’s a creep."

But something was happening already inside the man's brain. He didn’t move. Just stared at me.

"What... what the fuck did you say?" he muttered again, but his voice cracked. There it was! His eyes were getting heavier. I stepped closer, like a snake charming its prey. My fingers barely brushed his chest.

"I said you were made to be used. That mind of yours? Serves for nothing but to control your sexy body. No thoughts, just instinct. Grunt when told. Flex when needed. Obey when commanded."

My words pierced his brain. His eyes twitched. His thick chest rose with a heavy breath. I could see his pupils dilating, his mouth parting just a little. "You don’t need to think, big guy. Thinking is for people with something between their ears. Not you."

His girlfriend kept tugging at his arm, but he just stood there. "Honey? Hello? Babe!"

He slowly turned to her, blinked dumbly, then looked back at me. His brows relaxed. His lips parted more. A little line of drool started collecting at the corner of his mouth.

I let out a low chuckle and stepped even closer, almost whispering now. "That's it... Let my words sink in. Let them take root. You're just a toy now. A dumb, hot, perfect toy." His head tilted slightly, eyes half-closed, mouth wide open, and his tongue was hanging loose. Drool dripping down his beard.

The transformation was delicious. My words did far more than just implant commands, they literally reshaped my prey's brain. If you listen carefully, you will hear the wet sounds of his brain moving, shrinking, and molding to my liking. As if his brain were clay, and my words a sculptor's skilled hands.

His girlfriend panicked, backing away. "What the hell are you doing to him!?"

I looked at her calmly. "Relax. He’s finally where he belongs." And then I snapped my fingers in front of her face. Her eyes blinked rapidly. Her mouth opened slightly, then shut. She shivered, then slowly nodded, expression blanking into stunned acceptance.

"He belongs to you now," she said softly. Like she was reading from a script etched into her mind.

I smiled. "You're smarter than him, I see." I turned to the hunk, grabbed his chin and turned his head. "Say you're mine.'"

A moment of silence. Then, in a slow, slurred drawl, he mumbled, "Uhhhm yuhhhrs... suhh..."

Perfect. I gave his cheek a playful pat. "Now listen to me, big guy. That face right there? Dumb. Mindless. Empty. That's your natural expression from now on, you will always look like this. With your eyes heavy and tongue hanging out, blank, docile, and stupid. Got it?"

He gave a soft grunt, lips still parted. His eyes stayed glazed and dull. Good. I turned back to his girlfriend. "You see him now, don’t you? He’s not boyfriend material anymore. He’s too far gone. Too dumb."

She stared at him in silence, then at me. "Yeah... he’s not really... boyfriend material anymore."

"Nope. He’s just a gay sex slave now. A muscle puppet with no brain. Not something you want to bring home to mom or build a family with."

She exhaled sharply. "He’s all yours. I can't date someone that... vacant."

I chuckled, stepping between them and placing a possessive hand on his chest, rubbing his pecs slowly through the thin fabric of his shirt. He didn’t flinch. Just stared into the distance, drool rolling steadily down his tongue. "Smart choice," I said to her. "He’s better off this way. Obedient. Mindless. Always ready. I will take good care of him, don't worry."

She gave a nod and walked away without another word. I turned my full attention to the hunk, both palms now pressed against his chest, playing with his nipples through his shirt, gently twisting them.

He didn’t resist. Didn’t blink. "Good boy," I whispered. "You’re going to make me very happy aren't you?" And he just stood there, blank face locked in, waiting to serve. "Flex for me, boy."

Like a well-oiled machine, the hunk obeyed. His thick, tattooed biceps rose in a slow, powerful curl, veins bulging beneath the ink as his massive arm tightened. He grunted softly, not out of effort—he was too strong for that—but from instinct, like a beast performing on command. I stepped in and ran my hand over his flexed arm, squeezing the hardness of his muscle. My thumb pressed into the peak of his bicep.

"Come, Daddy. Let’s go upstairs."

When we entered my suite, I turned and commanded, "Strip. Now."

He tore off his clothes with urgent clumsiness, revealing every inch of that sculpted Daddy body. His pecs were massive and his thighs were like tree trunks. And between them—his cock. 9 Inches, Thick. Veiny. Fully erect and already leaking.

"On your knees, boy."

The mindless beast dropped instantly, muscles flexing as he settled in front of me. I sat on the edge of the bed, spread my legs wide, and yanked his head toward my crotch. I made him sniff my bulge, and while he took in my musk, I touched his forehead and implanted into his ruined brain everything he needed to know about being a good cock sucking whore.

"Use that whore mouth. Now."

He pulled my cock out and sucked. Greedy. Needy. His lips stretched over my shaft as I gripped his head and rammed myself into his throat. No rhythm. No gentleness. Just ownership.

I used his mouth like a hole. Like a toy. Like he was nothing more than a slab of muscle with a wet hole attached to it. I fucked this handsome Daddy's face, hard and deep, my cock slamming the back of his throat again and again until he gagged. Spit and precum drooled from his lips as I held his head down against my pubes.

"That’s it, Daddy. Choke on your Master's cock. You love being used, don’t you? Just a stupid muscle toy." He moaned through the assault, drool bubbling at the corners of his slack mouth. I slapped his cheek with one hand as I thrust harder, relentlessly.

"You're nothing now. Just a dumb, cock-hungry fuckdoll. Your brain’s gone. Your girl’s gone. All you are is a hole for me to use."

I could hear the wet sloopy sounds—not from the blowjob—but from inside his skull. His brain was being reshaped nonstop with each word that came out of my mouth.

The pressure built. I snarled, shoved his face against my pubes, and came—thick, violent spurts blasting down his throat and spilling out of his mouth. I pulled out mid-release, resting my cock against his panting face, painting his cheeks with cum and spit on the process.

"Good boy, I'm very pleased with your service," I growled, slapping my wet cock against his tongue, "Now your brain will shrink to the size of a grape." The sound his brain made this time was louder as it shrunk to the size of a grape. If I thought his face couldn't get any dumber, the face he made now surpassed that.

He fell to the floor like a limp doll, his thick cock still thobbing hard and leaking. I would make his brain go back to its normal size later, but for now, I will enjoy my new brainless toy.

[nanamisgirly]

taking a shower is impossible ྀི

“suguru…”

you're bare, pressed against your very much naked husband under hot water, and all you want is to scrub your scalp peacefully. not to be pinned against his chest, which—yes, feels divine—but is not helping your situation.

“you always do this,” you sigh, smiling despite yourself.

“well, it's important isn't it? bonding with your wife, not letting the flame die between us.” he leans down, nose brushing yours.

“suguru, we just had sex this morning. i just wanna wash my hair, you're making this impossible…” his hands move up your sides, then down again, sliding over the curve of your hips. he just never stops. “you know i can't wash properly when you're stuck to me like this,” you mumble, trying and failing to tilt back.

water rushes over your shoulders, geto doesn't bother budge an inch—he only reaches behind you to grab his shampoo, “then let me do it.” he says not letting you protest as he squeezes the bottle, letting the luxury spill into his palm. “y'know mine's better anyway.”

“i don't wanna smell like cologne,” you mumble under your breath, your nose scrunching. it wasn't unusual for your husband to shampoo your hair—or to sneak his fancy products into your routine—but it was always funnier when he didn't know. not like he cared, he loooves when you smell like him. plus, the man had long, thick, silky black hair—any woman would sell her soul for strands like his—so it was only fair, right?

he clicks his tongue, “it's sandalwood and vanilla." he insists, “it's classy. it's sensual. it's the reason old ladies flirt with me at the farmer's market.”

you roll your eyes. “because your hair's shiny and look like a myth.”

“and i fuck like one.” he winks, all smugness and sin.

“suguru.” you try to scold, pinching his nipple barbells. he lets out a dramatic squeal that turn into a laugh. his smile falters just slightly as his soapy fingers start to scrub your scalp. 

and it was all cute and tease until you feel it—his cock twitches, pinned between your matching belly piercings. (a stupid VERY IMPORTANT detail you both got on a trip years ago—his dark stud with your initial and yours, a delicate charm that curves to match his.)

“every time,” you whisper “you say it’s about hair, and every time, you get hard five seconds in.”

“correction,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “i’m hard before we step in. this just… makes it worse.”

his hands drift—long fingers sliding down the back of your neck, down your spine, until he’s grabbing a handful of your ass with a soaked slap. you squeak. “sugu—!”

“shh,” he hums, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth, slow and wet and open. “just let me love you a little. you feel so good like this. so warm, so soft—” he presses his forehead to yours, breath hitching. “…i can’t stop touching you.”

his lips drag to your jaw, nipping gently. he lathers up again, and this time, his hands come to your chest—slippery palms gliding over your breasts like he’s trying to memorize them through touch alone.

“i’m being helpful,” he says too innocently, voice low, soaked in need. “just a loving husband washing his pretty wife.”

“totally normal,” you manage, barely able to breathe.

“perfectly respectful,” he hums, thumbing over your nipples until they pebble, then dipping down to mouth at one—open kisses on wet skin.

“this is—ngh—this is not how showers work.”

“this is exactly how ours work.”

[itelya]

bikini. nerd bf! gojo satoru x fem! reader

The sun had finally returned, casting its warm light over the city, and with it, the desire to escape the stifling heat to enjoy the ocean. So naturally, you suggested a trip to the beach, and Gojo enthusiastically accepted, his sunglasses perched on his nose, his smile wider than ever.

You discreetly slipped on your turquoise bikini under your clothes before leaving, without saying a word. A little surprise. Just for the pleasure of seeing his reaction.

Arriving on the sand, the waves gently crashing in the distance, you began to take off your t-shirt, your feet already bare and your hair tied back. But no sooner had you taken off your top than Gojo rushed over and handed it to you with a dramatic gesture.

"Hey! You're not going to go swimming in your bra in front of everyone?!"

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk on your face.

"A bra? Really? Do you think I'd go to the beach without a swimsuit?"

"So... what are you doing here?"

You yanked your shirt off, letting it fall into the sand, revealing your perfectly fitted turquoise bikini; it showed off your curves. Your perky breasts and the subtle shape of your waist immediately caught his attention.

Gojo blinked, took a step back as if he'd been slapped, and... blushed all the way to his ears. You almost swore you saw a drop of blood trickle down his nose, but he quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand as if nothing had happened.

"Don't act like you've never seen me without a shirt, you nerd," you huffed, rolling your eyes. He looked away, his mouth hanging open.

"It's not the same," he mumbled. "Right now, you look like... like a super sexy video game character with a premium design and broken stats." You narrowed your eyes, amused.

"Seriously? Is that the only comparison you could come up with? I'm a character with rare skins now?"

"I didn't say that!" he stammered, running a hand through his hair, clearly panicking.

You burst out laughing at his genuine embarrassment, unable to stop yourself. His bewildered expression, his awkwardness, that barely contained twinge of jealousy or adoration... It was irresistible.

"So you have inappropriate thoughts about characters in swimsuits? You're allowed to confess, right?"

He threw his hands up in the air dramatically.

"Objection! You're the one provoking it. And I'm just a weak man in the face of such curves."

"You mean in front of your beautiful, angel-faced girlfriend," you corrected him with a smirk. He looked at you. For a long time. Then he moved closer.

"Exactly. You."

You stared at him too, then took off your shorts to reveal your thighs and the pretty ass he loves so much. You saw his sunglasses slide down his nose as if to better look at you like a pervert.

"Pervert."

"I'm just admiring my beautiful, angel-faced girlfriend."

You laughed lightly, which made him smile genuinely. You took his hand and pulled him towards you so he could follow you into the water. But unfortunately for him, he hadn't had time to take off his clothes.

a/n: tysm for the 700 followers! Im srry if im not posting rn but I have some writing in progress that I'll post soon!<33

nerd gojo series - masterlist

taglist: @hyori2 @bakugouswaif @bnbaochauuu

[carasmia]

like a winner ⋆.˚ oscar piastri x female reader

cw superiority complex-ish? sexual themes/actions, stomach bulge, tit sucking, cowgirl position & nipple worship pairing oscar piastri + female reader summary your small joke about only accepting winners gets to him note thought this was cute lol please excuse any bad english ty bai

"i only fuck winners," you teased.

his hand reached for your small strand that fell from your ponytail, toying with it before fixing it back and behind your ear. "i know you didn't mean it, but—" oscar fake pouted and kissed your cheek, moving down to the crook of your neck, along the collarbone, and eventually to your stomach.

"only being with winners is an honor. the way you act like this for me.. do you really deserve it?"

his cocky attitude rubbed off on you with every kiss. by the time oscar met his pink lips with yours, a comment fell from your mouth to reflect just that. "try a bit harder on this next race, then we'll see if there's a winner worth deserving." his brows raised in surprise.

piastri took this as a sign to remind you of the near 20 podium winner you had above you, pinning you to the bed and slipping his sweats off to fuck you right. his hand neatly spread your puffy and needy lips, and with your legs already open, he had no hard time to press his tip into you with how wet you were.

"feels like a winner, yeah?" he mumbled into your neck, reaching deeper as he held you in place. your pussy ached with his slow pace; you needed more. oscar huffed, taking in how tight you were and how easily he could fit, knowing you've been fucked like a mold by him ever since you first started dating.

his hips quickened as his hands held your stomach down against the bed, feeling his tip bulge through. a smirk spread on his face as he continued roughly. "you gonna take it back?"

barely being able to, you shook your head and held onto his arm, pouting and panting tiredly, "please, osc—"

his lips neared your ear, kissing behind it and whispering, "you like getting fucked by a winner, hm?"

you could only muster up small words. "fuck."

oscar's hand trailed up to under your tit, taking a handful and squeezing harshly, kissing against your nipple and rubbing the bud. "god, you're so fucking hot like this, all spread out for me."

apologies and thank you's fell from your lips one after another until he shut you up with a kiss, fucking into you one last time as he came. his groans put you in awe as you felt how warm his cum left you. the spurts of cum didn't stop when he held still, but mixed as you dripped all over his cock.

he drew back and rubbed his dick along your folds, stuffing you every few moments. your pussy throbbed with every stroke, "does my baby need more?" "yeah," you breathed out.

"yeah?" he mocked your tired demeanor and kissed lightly on your cheek.

oscar pulled away, sat up against the bed frame, and pat his lap. you followed his silent command like a dog and felt your pussy leave a wet spots against his thigh, cock hard against your skin.

he positioned you over him and watched you sink down to take him fully in. he paid attention to your face, the scrunched brows that indicted he feels bigger when you're on top. you knew what he wanted. your hips moved as fast as they could after being fucked senseless on your back.

"feels so good," you moaned out, "you're so fucking big."

his hands felt like home on your waist, guiding you back and forth until you started to go faster and harder. oscar's hands trailed up from your waist to your back and pushed your chest forward towards his face. he kissed lightly on the valley of your breasts and to the collarbone. "so perfect.." his lips connected with your tit, sucking softly and swirling his tongue against your hard nipple. he alternated between them and looked up at you as he did so.

you couldn't be bothered to look down at his now messy hair, too busy holding his broad shoulders and bouncing on his cock. you felt dizzy and messy and knew you'd cum any second now. he felt it, too.

few minutes after, you whimpered and cried as you came on him, slowing your movements and giving your pussy mercy. you couldn't get up; oscar wanted to stay inside anyways, cumming softly into you, much calmer than before. you savored his thick ropes inside you, giving your stomach butterflies.

"that feel good?" he asked and tilted his head higher to face you, "do you understand now?"

you nodded and gave a weak smile, kissing him again and holding his flushed cheeks.

"yes."

[moon-fics]

Tan Lines

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: After a long day at the beach playing football, the squad decides to take a break.

Warning: Just a tad bit suggestive

A/N: I might make this into a part two...

Sweat drips down your back and chest as you sit on the cold, sandy ground. The sun is barely peaking out from the ocean as it sets. Your muscles are sore, but it only gives you a sense of satisfaction. The smell of salt and the stinging in your eyes is a welcoming feeling.

You glance to your left to see Bob, Hangman, Rooster, and Phoenix. They're all staring off into the water. You can tell they have a lot on their minds, but there's a deafening silence that you don't want to break first.

"So, do you guys think we'll get the mission done?" Phoenix speaks up. This elicits a groan from Rooster, who would rather discuss anything else. You still haven't figured out his deal with Maverick.

"Of course, we'll get it done. That's why we're being trained," Hangman scoffs. "It's the getting back part you guys should worry about," He chuckles.

"'You guys'?" Bob repeats while leaning over to look at Hangman. He's glaring through his glasses, and you notice Rooster doing the same. Hangman is impossible to have a nice conversation with. He'll boost his ego the entire time. "Last time I checked, we're just as good as you."

"Did you never check?" Hangman retorts. This is enough to get Phoenix and Rooster standing. They take a few steps into the ocean to avoid the conversation. You're betting it's cold and refreshing.

You decide to join them and let your feet step into the wet sand. The water washes past your ankles, and you are right. It feels like heaven after sweating for hours.

You turn around to see Bob still sitting away from the shore. "Are you coming?" You ask. He stumbles over words you can't hear before standing. He cleans his glasses on his shirt, which only smudges them more.

He follows after everyone but stops next to you. Phoenix and Rooster have already entered the ocean. Hangman has decided to head back to the bar without a word. Maybe his confidence needs a drink to bring down.

"I bet we're all going to be burnt to shit tomorrow," You strike a conversation. You can feel your skin becoming irritated with the amount of sun you've gotten. "At least we'll have some good tan lines," You shrug.

"Oh, I already have those," Bob chuckles. You remember Phoenix saying he was from Leemore base. You've only seen him in uniform or wearing a t-shirt. So, you honestly can't tell if he does. "We would do drills in the heat. Now, they're just kinda there," He explains.

"I don't see any." He glances at you and realizes his tan lines aren't viable.

"Oh, uh, yeah," He mumbles. He reaches for the hem of his shorts and pulls down less than an inch. He's as white as a ghost under his shorts compared to above them. You're stuck staring at the different skin tones, only to realize you can see his stomach. Your mouth falls open at how toned he is.

You can see veins and abs as clear as day. The lack of sunlight doesn't do it justice. It's embarrassing how much saliva fills your mouth. You pry your eyes away and focus back on his face.

"I see it now," You confirm with a laugh. He shyly smiles and goes to fix his shorts. "I'll show you mine tomorrow as a trade,"

"I doubt it'll be anything like mine," He jokes. You want to tease him back, but you're stuck thinking about his body. You shouldn't be having flashes of his stomach, but here you are. It's all you can think of as you stand next to him. You never really thought of Bob that way, but now you are. Sure, he was handsome and sweet. You just never imagined he was so ripped.

Everyone in Top Gun has muscles because if you don't, what are you doing here? But, you could probably eat food off of Bob's abs.

"Everything ok? You're staring at Phoenix pretty hard," Bob waves a hand in front of your face. You're snapped out of your own mind and reminded that Bob is right next to you.

"Oh, yeah, I was just making sure she doesn't drown." You lie. It's a bad lie but it's enough for Bob.

"Then, I'll watch Rooster." He crosses his arms and makes a serious face. His eyes are trained on Rooster like a hawk. "Can't risk letting a chicken drown," He tries and fails at his own joke.

You find yourself laughing anyway. You don't understand why you're heart rate is elevated, because you've never felt this way around anyone in the squad. It hits you hard that you've possibly developed a crush on him. Somehow, your idiotic heart has decided now is a great time to cling to someone. Days before a mission that has so many factors that could go wrong.

"About what Phoenix said. Do you think the mission will go ok?" You look over at him. If you want comfort, Bob is the best place to go. He's more sensitive than everyone else. He's always there.

"Yeah, I have my trust in everyone here," He shrugs. He just shrugs as if that isn't an important answer. Yes, you trust anyone you go on a mission with. You have to to get shit done. Yet, he's saying it as if it's a default for him. "I trust you the most,"

"Me? Why?" You blurt out. You are not building a good case for yourself.

"I can predict your fly patterns the most. I don't pilot, but I can tell Phoenix what you'll do next." You can hear your brain grinding its gears and your heart pumping blood in your ears. You know he only meant that as a compliment, nothing more or less.

"I suppose that's a good thing," You respond. "If I had to choose who I'd fly with on this mission, it would be you and Phoenix."

"Oh, I'm glad Phoenix wasn't discarded," He laughs. "It would be horrible if I were in the back seat with no pilot."

"Oh, then I wouldn't trust you for the life of me," You snort.

You want to say more, but something in your chest says to let it simmer. You keep your mouth shut and your eyes on Phoenix and Rooster. They're both enjoying the water as the dark of night covers the sky. In a few minutes, the stars will come out and the moon will shine.

You're excited to walk back to base with just the moonlight. It'll give you more time with him.

[dollychou]

CANDIED PANTIES

𝓈ummary ʚଓ you help barou let out some pent up feelings and find out he might have a dirty little secret.

𝒸ontent ʚଓ smut! panty kink.

the past few weeks had been an extremely tiring one for barou — the arduous training paired with the routine he had set for himself and stuck to religiously — he felt he was reaching his breaking point. all the mental and physical stress had him obsessively cleaning and barking orders at his other teammates — even more so than before.

today, by some miracle, ego had granted them a day off and barou felt himself feel ecstatic for the first time in days. he knew exactly how he was going to be spending his time off and that was with you, his sweet little girlfriend. you had told him you had something in store for him and he grew curiouser and curiouser the closer he got to your place.

you swing your door open and immediately pull him inside, wrapping your arms around his neck. it catches him off guard for a second but as soon as he feels your warmth against his, he bring his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. "hey you," he speaks, the soft tone a one he uses only with you. "missed me hm?"

"very much," you mumble into his neck as you press light kisses on it, trailing it up to capture your lips in his.

he hums delightfully, your lips feeling like pure bliss. he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours as he says, "now what's this surprise you say you got for me, pretty?"

you don an almost mischievous smile as you say, "i need to take you to the bedroom for that."

he smirks, running his hands up and down your sides before coming down to squeeze the plush of your ass. "that kinda surprise, huh?," he says, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. but with the growing tent in his sweats brushing against your thighs — you know otherwise.

in one swift motion, he's scooping you up, your legs circling around his waist. he walks you to your bedroom, gently placing you down on the bed as he looms over you. "when you gonna show me the surprise?," he asks, fiddling with the waistband of your shorts.

"eager, are we?," you tease, combing through his hair. it's not in its usual spiked up do, his long hair falling down and framing his face so handsomely. "all you gotta do is take off my clothes and you'll see."

his dick practically jumps in his boxers. he nearly tears your top off of him and his pupils are blown with pure lust and desire.

you're wearing the sweetest and cutest beige lingerie set — lace is sewn on the cups, giving it this dainty look. as he pulls down your shorts, he sees the matching panties you're wearing with it — the same beige colour with a little heart homed in the centre.

"what do you think?"

he lets out a deep moan in response, his eyes scanning your pretty body. you close your legs, feeling embarrassed by his intense gaze but he pries them open, situating himself in between your legs. his tongue licks you through the fabric of the panties, a little quiet mewl coming from your lips.

"always so good f'me," he mumbles more so to himself as he licks more strips on your panties. "fuckkk~ baby, you taste so good."

your face flushes as you comb your fingers through his hair. his fingers push aside your panties, your bare cunt now right in his face. he wants to hold himself back — he so badly wants to — but he just can't.

his mouth dives into your sopping folds, tongue licking hellishly quick against your clit, making you scream out. "oh my god!," you cry, tugging on his hair. he's relentless, flicking his tongue all over you, the filthy noises of his spit and your wet pussy filling the room.

your legs squish the sides of his head but he forces you to keep them open as he continues his devilish assault on your poor cunt. he sticks his tongue into you, fucking you with it, getting an even better taste of your sweet juices. your back arches from the sheer pleasure you're feeling, your hips instinctively grinding on his mouth.

he pulls away, his lips slick and shiny with your arousal. you whine at the loss of his mouth on you but you shut up in a second as he pulls his sweats and boxers down. his hard, long dick springs out, slapping against his toned abdomen. he hooks his arms under your thighs, bringing you to the edge of the bed where he stood.

he eyes the panties you're wearing, seemingly fixated on how adorable and sweet they look on you. he removes them off you and stares at the piece of lingerie for a moment before taking a small whiff of it. your face turns a bright pink, feeling incredibly flustered. "baby," you mumble. "what are you doing?"

"shit, sorry baby," he growls. "i just... fuck... these panties are driving me wild. and you smell and taste sooo good."

as he lines the tip of his cock with your entrance, he shoves your panties into his mouth. before you can even protest or say anything, he shoves his cock into you, making you gasp harshly. he begins thrusting — hard — into your tight, warm pussy. the way your syrupy walls are fluttering around him; the way your juices are coating his shaft; the way his dick is slapping against your pussy — he feels himself going wild.

and with your panties in his mouth, being able to taste even just a teensy bit of your arousal as he rams himself into you is maddening. his hips keep snapping into you in a frenzy, completely captivated by how you taste and how you sound and how you feel for him.

his hands dig into your hips, keeping your writhing body in place as his tip kisses your cervix. "hngh — 's so good," you whimper, gazing at him with an almost drunken look on your face. "fuck me — hic — fuck me, keep fucking me."

that sends him over the edge, thrusting himself deeper and faster into your weeping cunt. he looks down and sees the lines of slick that connect his hairs with yours and he lets out a deep, guttural groan, sucking on your panties that is still in his mouth. you're writhing beneath him, moaning and screaming loud enough for everyone outside to hear. but you can't help yourself with how fucked out you're feeling and how damn sexy barou looks with your lacy little panties clamped between his teeth.

"'m gonna cum," you whine loudly, gripping the bedsheets. he simply nods, feeling his own release approaching. with a couple more thrusts, you come undone, walls clenching around his shaft, milking him dry for what he's worth. he pulls out, spurting out ribbons of cum, tainting your lower abdomen.

his chest rises and falls, trying to catch his breath for a few moments. he takes out the piece of lingerie from his mouth and goes to shove it in the pocket of his sweats. "pervert," you giggle, lifting yourself up to rest on your elbows.

barou leans in, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear while he presses a delicate, loving kiss to your temple. "i'm gonna need it whenever i'm feeling... pent up," he smirks, peppering a few more kisses across your face. "now let's get cleaned up hm?"

© all works belong to dollychou. do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[effetsecndaires]

read that wakasa one you wrote and im on my knees🧎‍♀️

if i may request another one of him (big wakasa sucker like give this mans more attention he deserves it)

i heavily feel like he’d be into some lazy morning sex🙈 (anyway rant done shdhdhej)

࿐𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙪𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙙; 𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙨𝙖 𝙞.⋆ 𐙚 ̊.

cw: smut, unprotected sex, morning breath does not exist☝🏻, not exactly somno but you're both sleepy lol

an: not sure how to feel about this one :( wc 740ish

You barely register the sunlight at first, a pleasant warmth already radiating off 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐀's chest as he holds you close. You blink, adjusting to the dim light as you glance at the clock, his arm draped heavy over your waist while his breath fans against the curve of your neck.

6:22am.

Your alarm hasn't gone off yet, and you know it won't for at least another twenty to thirty minutes.

You're about to close your eyes again when Wakasa starts stirring behind you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks. "...You awake?"

You give a small nod, still hazy, and tilt your head just enough to catch his mouth in a soft, lingering kiss. "Morning…"

"Mornin’, gorgeous." His words are slurred with exhaustion, breath warm against your lips. "Sleep well…?" he asks casually, shifting again just slightly to glance at the clock.

You hum an answer, a little drowsy, only for the sound to catch in your throat when you feel the press of his erection against your backside. Then his hips start rolling lazily, grinding into the curve of your ass with just enough pressure to make your breath stutter. "You’re so warm. Wanna stay here all day." he mumbles, lips brushing along your jaw, lazy and half-awake but clearly hungry for more.

Your body responds instantly to his touch—every inch of skin prickling with goosebumps. You fail to suppress a moan when his right hand slips beneath your shirt to find find your nipple, fingers toying with it in slow, deliberate circles while his other hand drifts down to tug at your underwear, slipping them down just enough to give him access to your pussy.

You bite your lip, flinching a little as his fingers ghost over your folds, gentle at first, teasing before dipping between, pressing just enough to make you whine. A soft gasp escapes when he pushes a finger inside you, pumping it a few times before he pulls back and replaces it with the thick head of his cock, dragging the sensitive flesh through your wetness with a quiet groan.

"Fuck." he breathes, nudging at your entrance. "I need to be inside you, baby…"

You're nodding before he's even finished speaking, your hand instinctively reaching behind to open yourself up as he eases forward, sinking into you with a low moan. He stays there for a moment, buried to the hilt, breathing hard against your neck as you both take time to adjust.

"Fuck," you pant, "baby, please—"

Then, as if reading your mind — he starts moving. Long, lazy strokes. There's no rush, no urgency, just the slow grind of hips, the soft clap of skin and the slick sound of your pussy welcoming him again and again. His hand slips under your thigh, lifting it slightly to fit you better as he rocks into you, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, your neck, the edge of your jaw.

"You feel so good," he murmurs. "So warm… fuck. You're perfect."

Your body trembles under the slow build-up, the way his cock drags so deep and rubs against every sensitive spot, your vision blurring with how ridiculously good it feels.

"Waka—" you gasp, fingers clutching at the pillow as he holds you still. "Feels so good. H-hah— don’t stop. Fuck, don't stop."

"I know. Shh, I know." Then his free hand finds your clit, rubbing lazy circles to match his gentle thrusts, and you know you're done for.

The pleasure coils fast, almost overwhelming now— every circle he draws sending sparks racing through your nerves, each pushing you closer and closer to the edge until your body starts trembling with the effort to hold on.

Your vision swims, eyes rolling back in your skull as your orgasm finally hits, your walls clenching and spasming around his cock as you gasp his name and cling to the sheets like your life depends on it, soft little whines slipping from your throat as he fucks you through it.

You melt into the mattress, boneless, barely able to keep your eyes open as Wakasa chases his own release. It’s all heat and slick and the soft sound of his breath catching before he groans deep in his chest, spilling his load inside you as he presses his hips flush to yours, making sure that not a single drop leaks out.

A short, comfortable silence follows, only broken by your heavy breathings and the ticking of the clock— until Wakasa interrupts it.

"Don’t go back to sleep yet." he mutters, pressing a lazy kiss to your cheek. "Might wanna go again in a few minutes."

[marauderstrashh]

Stitches and Sparks

It started with a stupid avocado.

Not even a ripe one—just one of those overly firm, deceptive jerks that pretend to be soft until you try to slice them and end up nearly amputating yourself. Which is exactly what happened.

One slip of the knife. A lot of blood. A dishtowel pressed to your palm, instantly soaked.

You didn’t panic—not exactly. But by the time you’d wrapped your hand in three dishcloths and a hoodie sleeve, your adrenaline had kicked in hard, and driving yourself to the ER seemed like a better idea than waiting for an ambulance you didn’t want to explain the avocado incident to.

You made it.

Barely.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You walk into the emergency room of St. Mungo’s General Hospital holding your hand up like you're trying to salute with a bloody towel.

“Hi,” you say weakly to the triage nurse. “I may have tried to fight an avocado and lost.”

The nurse looks up. “Oh dear. Take a seat, hon, we’ll get you seen fast.”

Your hand throbs as you sit, and you’re pretty sure you’ve gone a little pale because the room tilts every time you blink.

Five minutes later, a calm voice calls your name. “Right this way.”

You follow a nurse through a set of swinging doors and into a curtained-off exam room. The nurse helps you onto the table and leaves you with a promise that the doctor will be right in.

You wait. For about two minutes.

Then the curtain swishes back, and in walks the handsomest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

Messy light brown curls. Soft hazel eyes and a tan face accentuated by a few scars. Sharp cheekbones. Lab coat. Stethoscope. And a calm, intelligent face that suggests he reads thick novels by the fireplace in winter.

“Hi,” he says with a smile that’s somehow both professional and warm. “I’m Dr. Remus Lupin. Let’s take a look at that hand, yeah?”

You lift the towel. He doesn't flinch, even as the wound—deep, jagged, and still bleeding—comes into view.

“Oof,” you say. “On a scale of one to ten, how dumb is this injury?”

He smiles again, reaching for gloves. “Well, you didn’t try to swordfight a raccoon, so you’re still ahead of a few I’ve seen this week.”

You snort, which surprises even you. “I was making guacamole.”

“That explains the shame.” He’s cleaning your hand now, carefully, with practiced ease. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this stitched up. You might have nicked a tendon, so I’ll test your movement once the bleeding stops.”

The sharp sting of antiseptic makes you wince.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice dipping into something low and gentle. “This bit’s never fun.”

You open your mouth to respond, but at that exact moment, the curtain whips open and two men stroll in.

“Oi, Moony,” the taller one says, “we brought you coffee because we love you and because the vending machine tried to kill us.”

Both of them stop when they see you.

You stare.

They stare.

Remus sighs, amused. “You two are off shift. Try not to traumatize my patient.”

The shorter one, with a devil-may-care grin and hair falling artfully into his eyes, steps forward first. “You poor thing. Who injured you? We'll avenge you. Just give us a name.”

“I, uh… it was an avocado,” you mumble.

The second man, Taller with fluffy, dark brown hair and glasses, grins. “The avocado mafia strikes again.”

Remus, not looking up from your hand, says, “This is Sirius and James. They’re EMTs. And apparently incapable of reading a ‘do not disturb’ sign.”

“We’re also Remus’s boyfriends,” Sirius says, hopping up onto the counter and winking at you.

James leans on the opposite wall, arms crossed, eyes twinkling. “And we’re very good at distracting people who are in pain. Can we chat with you while Remus tortures you with stitches, lovey?”

Remus snorts under his breath. “Professionalism, James.”

“I’m not technically working,” James says, then looks at you. “Unless you want me to take a look too. I’ve been told I have excellent bedside manner.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. And it makes everything feel less horrible.

“You guys do this to all the patients?” you ask, mostly to tease.

“Only the ones who are cute,” Sirius says with zero shame.

Your cheeks burn, but not unpleasantly. Remus is working with quiet focus now, stitching the wound with gentle precision.

“She’s holding up well,” James observes. “Didn’t even flinch.”

“She’s a badass,” Sirius adds.

“She's also still in the room,” you say with a smile.

Sirius beams at you. “Then I feel comfortable saying that if you ever want three ridiculously attractive men to take you out for drinks, you now know where to find us.”

“I was just trying to make guacamole,” you say, shaking your head, amused and slightly dazed from everything—including blood loss, probably.

Remus finishes the final stitch and tapes your hand carefully. “There. All done.”

He looks up at you, his eyes crinkling kindly. “You should rest that hand for a few days. Come back in ten for removal. Or sooner if it swells.”

“I can come back,” you say, eyes flicking to all three of them. “For… medical reasons.”

James raises an eyebrow. “Are ‘medical reasons’ code for flirting with off-duty paramedics?” he leaned in with a heart stopping smirk

You shrug playfully. “I guess we’ll see.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ــ

Ten days later, you’re standing in the hallway of St. Mungo’s, flexing your freshly-healed hand and wondering why the nerves in your stomach are more intense than the pain ever was.

It’s not the stitches.

It’s them.

Remus, Sirius, and James, those handsome sods.

You’d thought about that night more than you cared to admit — about soft-eyed Remus with his gentle touch, Sirius’s wicked grin and dramatic flair, James’s easy charm and that smile like he was always on the edge of laughing. You’d promised yourself you weren’t reading into things, but when Sirius had actually texted you the next day "Just checking if the guacamole won", you hadn’t exactly ignored it. Sending a few colorful words to express your distaste in the joke with a kissing emoji after it.

So here you are. Your follow-up appointment’s in a few minutes. You’re not sure if the butterflies in your stomach are hope, nerves, or just leftover takeout.

You’re called back by a nurse and brought into the same little curtained room as last time. The paper crinkles under you as you sit on the exam table. You absently rub your thumb over your palm—skin healing well, scar smooth but slightly pink.

Then the curtain pulls back.

Remus Lupin steps in wearing a slate-gray button-down under his white coat, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes light up when he sees you.

“You came back, Dove."

“I had to,” you say, holding up your hand. “You left thread in me.”

“That’s one way to keep you coming back,” he says with a teasing smile as he pulls on gloves. “Any pain? Redness? Trouble with movement?”

You flex your fingers. “Feels good. Still tender if I hit it wrong, but I’ve stopped being afraid of butcher knives.”

“That’s progress,” he says gently, and then begins the careful work of removing your stitches.

Your eyes wander — to the way his brows furrow in concentration, the flecks of gray at his temples, the slight curve of his mouth.

Then you hear it: a voice from outside the curtain.

“Is she in there? She is, isn’t she?”

It’s Sirius.

And James, hot on his heels: “Remus, if you don’t invite her out for drinks this time, I swear to Gods we’ll stage an intervention.”

Remus sighs like a man who’s been dealing with these two for far too long. “You realize I can hear you.”

“So can I,” you call, amused.

The curtain whooshes open, and Sirius and James appear like drama and sunshine incarnate. Sirius looks you over like he’s relieved to see you haven’t bled out since their last meeting.

“She survived!” he says cheerfully. “That means we definitely owe you a drink now, pretty girl.”

“Or three,” James adds. “One for each of us.”

Remus glances up from your hand and murmurs, “Do you see what I deal with?”

But he’s smiling now too.

You tilt your head. “And do I get a say in this?”

“Absolutely,” Sirius says, “but if you say no, we’ll all cry. James gets weepy. It’s a mess.”

“I do not,” James says. “I get… misty, you liar.”

“Very stoic misty,” Remus adds, deadpan.

You laugh — an honest one, warm and wide, as Remus gently pulls the last stitch free.

“Okay,” you say, looking between them. “One drink. One night. One condition.”

Sirius leans in. “Name it.”

“No avocado jokes, please for my sake.”

They all groan theatrically.

“No promises,” James mutters.

“Fair,” you say, hopping down from the exam table. “But I get to choose the bar.”

Remus peels off his gloves and offers you a look that’s half smirk, half genuine affection. “Choose wisely.”

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The four of you end up at a low-lit bar tucked into a quiet neighborhood corner Three Broomsticks — brick walls, string lights, and jazz humming low in the background. You take a booth, them on one side like some too-attractive wall of mischief, and you opposite, drink in hand.

The conversation flows. Stories from the ER. Questions about you. Laughter that fills every quiet beat. Somewhere between James teaching you a stupid medical acronym and Sirius stealing a sip of your cocktail “just to check if it’s poisoned,” you realize something: they’re not just handsome, or funny, or occasionally idiotic in the best way.

They see you.

And they’re not flirting for sport.

When Remus leans in and says, “I was honestly hoping you’d come back,” it’s not a line.

When James says, “You’ve got good hands. You’d be great in a crisis,” it’s admiration.

When Sirius asks, “Are we too much?”—just soft enough to be real—it’s vulnerability.

You smile.

“Maybe.”

And then, “But I think I could be, too.”

Sirius and James exchanged a rather mischievous look, causing Remus to shake his head as he finished off his beer with little to no flourish.  "If you don't mind," James hummed "We all we're hoping you'd join us for dinner....maybe next week?"  You paused, cocktail halfway to your lips as you took in the three gazing at you with hope  "I-...would like that very much." PT2: Under the skin (18+)

[misssparklingpaws]

Shadow in the Flame

Chapter 4: Kitchen Fires and Stark Shorts

The Tower kitchen was a disaster zone of smells, noise, and barely edible food. Red Guardian stirred something that might've been soup or paint. Yelena sat on the counter eating pickles straight from the jar. Walker tossed chips into Ghost’s hood like it was a carnival game. Bucky, ever the tired dad of this misfit crew, was sipping a beer and pretending he didn’t see any of it.

Then the kitchen doors whooshed open.

And in walked Aria.

Hair loosely tied up, Stark Industries T-shirt sliding off one shoulder, and the smallest pair of black sleep shorts this side of decency.

For one terrifying, holy second.

Robert stopped breathing.

The room fell into stunned silence. Even the smoke detector paused in disbelief.

She blinked, mid-step. “What.”

Yelena, first to recover, grinned wide and wolfish. “You look like a Bratz doll with access to Stark satellites.”

Aria raised an eyebrow. “Should I be offended or flattered?”

“Both,” Yelena said. “And also legally weaponized.”

Robert, still staring, mumbled, “You’re… wow.”

Red Guardian squinted. “Did he just say ‘wow’?”

Aria paused mid-step, blinking. “What.”

Robert snapped upright like someone hit his reset button. “I mean hi! Hello. I didn’t mean I mean yes! Not, not yes like that, I mean do you want food? I can cook! I cook! Very calmly!”

He spun around, bumped into the counter, then tripped over a chair leg and barely caught himself.

Conversation died. Like someone had hit mute on the whole room.

Robert, pale and panicked “Do you, are you um food. Do you want food? I could cook! Like… toast! Or eggs. Do you eat eggs? I could toast something or your bagel, I'm certified in breakfast.”

“Certified in breakfast?” Walker said, snorting. “What does that even mean?”

“He’s short-circuiting,” Yelena whispered gleefully. “This is amazing.”

Aria stared. “Are you… okay?”

Robert blinked. “Am I me? Yes. I am. Fine. You’re… short-shorts. I mean, you’re wearing uh those. And that. Shirt. Which is normal. For you. I’m shutting up now.”

Yelena cackled. “He’s gone, completely fried.”

Red Guardian raised his drink. “To young love.”

Robert looked like someone had just set him on fire. “I’m just being polite!”

“Polite?” Ghost said quietly from her corner. “You just offered her your soul in pancake form.”

“I did not!”

“You also offered to toast her bagel,” Bucky added. “Which sounded way dirtier than you intended.”

“I meant literally! Like bread and heat and oh my God"

Aria finally cracked. Just a little. The barest curl of her lips as she pulled a yogurt from the fridge.

Yelena pointed. “Smile detected! I repeat, the Stark bot smiled!”

Robert was blushing so hard he looked sunburned. “I didn’t mean , she just, she walked in like that and"

Aria turned her cool gaze on him. “Like what, Reynolds?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“Pretty,” he muttered under his breath.

Dead. Silence.

Yelena lost it, doubled over in laughter.

Red Guardian clapped him on the back. “Is good. You die brave.”

Bucky sipped his beer with a smirk. “You’ve got it bad, kid.”

Robert groaned into his hands. “I hate everyone in this kitchen.”

Aria sat down like she hadn’t just caused a complete emotional meltdown. “You're all exhausting.”

Robert slid a plate toward her, carefully avoiding eye contact. “I made pasta. No mushrooms. Extra cheese.”

She glanced at it. Then him. That little smirk again.

“…Thanks, Reynolds.”

He blushed even harder.

Yelena: “If he turns any redder, we can roast marshmallows on him.”

Aria took a slow breath, letting the chaos settle around her like a familiar storm. The smell of burnt toast and too-salty soup didn’t bother her anymore. Maybe it never had.

She looked around at the ragtag group.

Robert hovered nervously near the counter, fiddling with a spoon like it might explode. She caught his eye and gave him a small nod.

He seemed to relax just a bit, as if her acknowledgment was a lifeline.

“Not bad,” she said, tasting the pasta. “Could use a little more garlic, but it’s edible.”

Robert’s smile cracked wider, the blush deepening. “I’ll take that as a win.”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dork.”

Walker grinned, tossing another chip into Ghost’s hood. “Welcome to the family, Aria.”

Yelena leaned in, propping her chin on her hand. “So… where’ve you been all this time?”

Aria didn’t look up. “Mexico.”

Walker frowned. “That’s it?”

She shrugged. “Cancún. Dad had a secure base there.”

Yelena blinked. “You were in Cancún? Like vacation Cancún?”

“Not exactly,” Aria said, tone flat. “Off-grid. Stark-secure. Sun, sand, maybe a little of tequila.”

“Bikinis” Yelena smirked looking at Robert.

Robert choked on his drink.

“I was… connecting with the other half of my heritage.”

Yelena raised a brow. “You mean your mom’s side?”

Aria finally looked up, eyes unreadable. “Yeah. The part of me that didn’t build AI suits or rewrite satellite code at sixteen. And then added “She was a model. Glossy magazines. Good bone structure. She didn’t want a kid. She made that clear.”

Silence.

Walker cleared his throat. “So you just dropped off the radar?”

“I didn’t feel like being a public monument,” Aria replied coolly. “Everyone had expectations. Press. Legacy talk. Avengers-this, Stark-that. I needed air.”

Robert watched her, unsure if he should say something. She didn’t give him the chance.

“I read your files,” she said instead, shifting the subject. “All of them. While drinking in a hammock.”

Red Guardian snorted. “Of course you did.”

“You all know who I am,” Aria continued, her tone neutral. “But you don’t know me. Let’s keep it that way. Easier.”

Ghost tilted her head. “But you’re here now.”

Aria nodded. “I am.”

“And why now?” Yelena asked, eyes sharp.

Aria shrugged. “Felt like the right time.”

Yelena leaned back, muttering to Bucky, “She’s emotionally constipated.”

“I heard that,” Aria said, standing “And I’m just efficient.”

Bucky gave her a faint smirk. “You’re definitely Tony’s kid.”

“Minus the press conferences,” she muttered, already heading for the door. “Don’t burn the kitchen down.”

And with that, she was gone.

But something had landed. The team watched the door she exited through, feeling like they'd seen just the edge of a hurricane and still had no idea what was inside.

[fazcinatingblog]

One night was washed out with heavy rain, the next night was too dangerous, and now the hurricanes decide to just pack it all in for not much???? Big bash is dead.

[reignpage]

You've Ghost To Be Kidding

Synopsis: in which you move into a haunted house and are seduced by ghost!sukuna Warning: 18+, porn with little plot, cursing, dubcon?, kinda horror but not scary at all, lots of cunnilingus, fingering, groping and molesting, nipple play, tentacles, full nelson, improper use of a broom, exhibitionism, voyeurism, foot play, blowjob, masturbation, a little somnophilia, monster-fúcking, kinda threesome? ig, classic dumb girl in horror movie with no survival instincts, not proofread Word Count: 2.7k

There’s a ghost in your home. 

You’ve just moved in last week and already you can tell there’s someone else here with you. Things move on their own even though you don’t see them move. You place a book down on a table and you’ll come back to it on the floor. Lights turn on and off on their own. Sometimes they even flicker incessantly for an hour or two, or until you get fed up and leave the room. At night, you hear scratching against the door, things literally going bump and thump, followed by heavy footsteps.

They’re all petty stuff, which is why you can stomach the irritation considering the rent is dirt-cheap. At most, you'll simply roll your eyes whenever the ghost acts up which apparently pisses it off more.

What’s been bothering you most, however, is the fact that the ghost is apparently very fucking horny. 

He — and yes, you know it’s a he because only a man could be so annoying and pathetic — gropes you randomly during the day. You’ll be washing up some dishes, minding your own business as one does, when suddenly, you’ll feel big, cold hands on your hips groping the flesh there. Worse, you can even feel a nose skim the length of your neck, inhaling your scent, and the ghost’ll blow air at your skin as if he’d exhaled in deep satisfaction.

Even when you're just watching TV, sat on the sofa, you'll feel a ghoulish grasp on your ankles, pulling your legs until your feet are held in the air. Something cold, long and hard presses itself against the pads of your feet, rubbing along. Popping popcorn in your mouth, you yawn as the sofa creaks, cold liquid beginning to coat your toes. You don't know for sure what he's doing but you have an idea.

Showering is also another story. Bare and wet, you massage shampoo into your scalp, humming to a song on your phone when it begins to glitch, making record scratching sounds. Your Lizzo song is replaced with heavy breathing and mumblings that oddly resemble the word, 'mine,' on repeat. Big, foreboding hands creep into the tresses of your hair, covering your own. They push and pull, applying pressure around your scalp, really working in your shampoo. With a sigh, you let him do the work for you.

After all, your arms were getting tired. So it seems like a fair exchange for him to grind that, by now, familiar length in between the globes of your ass, nudging you against the wall, threatening to drown you under the barrage of water.

Truthfully, you once considered hiring an exorcist or a priest or something. But once he stopped being so hostile against you and you found a freakish routine with him, the idea flew out the window. Who else would know to open a cabinet with all the bowls for you right after you've picked up the milk from the fridge, so you can eat cereal?

This ghost has been pretty helpful in finding your lost items too. Whether they be your phone, keys, socks, the remote etc. Though, you suspect sometimes he hides those things on purpose so that you'll acknowledge his presence with a, 'Hey dead guy, know where my shit is?'

Sure, your pool of panties is depleting with his clear hatred of them, ripping them up and tossing them in the trash for you to find later, and you can't really invite anyone home since they wouldn't understand. But you can put up with his wandering hands and constant hard-ons if it means you have a nice, pretty house to live in.

Even if everything you do seems to turn him on. Whether that's singing along to a song (a body will press itself behind you, swaying you to the beat and grinding something hard against your back), brushing the floor (the broomstick will find it's way between your legs, the length slotting itself right in between your pussy lips as it shuffles back and forth, eliciting moans after moans from you, covering the wood with slick), or cooking a meal (the sauce you're heating up will wind up on your chest, cool and trickling down the valley your breasts, just about to disappear beneath your low v-neck shirt before something wet and slithering wipes it away, leaving goosebumps in its wake).

And God, apparently dental hygiene turns the damn thing on too. Brushing your teeth, in the morning or night, always involves your breasts being groped. Seriously. Breasts. Groped. 

You feel those same cold hands first cup your tits over the shirt, just feeling the heaviness, weighing them in his palms before you feel fingers flicking your nipples. The friction is repulsive. Really. It makes you roll your eyes. In annoyance, of course. 

“F-fuck off!”

Then, when you’re clutching the sink, he slides his hands under your shirt, nails scratching your skin before you feel its chilling grip on your breasts. That’s when he really gets to work — he doesn’t go gently, no, he’s tugging at your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingertips as if to torture you. So outraged, you’re left gasping for air, unable to string along words to express how disgusting his touch felt. 

“Don’t even ask me h-how I know you’re smirking. Dick.”

In response, all the bottles on the bathtub fall to a clatter on the porcelain.  

You can’t even masturbate in peace because though the door's closed you know he knows what you’re doing. That door will open, slowly creaking, and a gust of wind will blow over you, announcing his presence. There, under the covers, your fingers are working overtime, rubbing furiously at your clit as you stare at that open door. 

“Seriously? You won’t even let me have this?”

Pussy tingling, you writhe on the bed, spurned on by the knowledge that eyes are watching your face. Deadly quiet, the sloshing sound between your legs echo in the room, mocking and scathing.

When your hand cramps up, you reach over to your bedside table for your vibrator. Pressing the cold silicone to your steamy pussy, you get a moment of reprieve before the battery somehow runs out. 

“Oh my God, you did not. Ugh, you are such a dick. You died and now you gotta make me miserable?” You throw the damn thing to the corner of the room in frustration. 

Just as you’re about to give up, the cover is pulled away and you’re bared to the world. Your legs are spread by an invisible force before something warm touches your lips, tasting your abundant juices before it laps all of you up eagerly. “Oh fuck! A-are you eating me out?”

He’s annoyingly skilled at this. The tip of his tongue rubs tight circles around your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your toes curl. Squelches resound in the room, getting louder when you feel, what can only be, fingers thrust into you with no warning. 

“Oh, God! Yes, right there, yesss.” He’s found your G-spot and he’s going to town on it, angling his fingers just right. 

Another hand pushes down on your lower stomach at the exact same time his lips wrap around your clit and suuuuuuuuuuuuck. You’re thrashing on the bed, pinned down by that invisible force like all your limbs suddenly weigh a ton. The noises he’s making and pulling out of you are obscene and anyone who hears would think another ghost is being added to the house. 

“Since your tongue’s going -ngh!- inside me, s-shouldn’t you tell me your name?”

The light flicks on and on the mirror across the room, your lipstick is writing the letters S U K U N A on it. 

“Sukuna, huh? Well, Sukuna. Since the afterlife is clearly lacking any kind of fun, make yourself useful and give me an orgasm.”

And so he does. 

He does every time after that actually. 

Sitting in your armchair, reading a book, legs spread and panties dangling from an ankle, he eats you out for hours. Good thing about ghosts is that they have nothing else to do, so you bet your cheap ass that he won’t be getting tired any time soon. 

In fact, he loves to eat you out. When you’re washing the dishes, he’ll be eating you out from behind, suckling on your wetness like it could bring him back to life. Hanging up the laundry in the garden will leave a man-sized lump under your dress as you desperately muffle your moans with a bedsheet, embarrassed that a neighbour might see. He wakes you up by eating you out, he sees you off to your job with a fingering and then a cleaning up of the mess with his tongue, and he welcomes you back home with an orgasm, body slumped against the front door, held up like a puppet as he tongues your insides, nipples teased by tendrils of something beyond the reach of your humanly sight.

That becomes your new routine. It seems this Sukuna has grown bolder, fearless and uncaring of what's convenient for you.

One night, however, as you’re spreading your legs naturally, you don’t feel the usual pressure there. Instead, you feel something wet, hard and salty at your lips. Devious bastard. 

Opening your mouth, you let him inch his length into your throat with surprising care. Full and stretched to your limits, you gag around his invisible cock, forced to accept the entirety of the thing entering and retreating over and over again. His balls smack against your chin as he increases his pace, growing more ruthless with the way he’s shoving his fat cock inside your mouth. 

You’re being used like a glory hole and he doesn’t seem like a minute man. Despite never having been the kind of girl who enjoyed giving blowjobs, you find this one surprisingly stimulating — it presses against a sensitive spot at the back of your throat, a sweet scent of death filling your nostrils as you gag around something firm and unyielding.

Over your shirt, you feel nails scratch against your nipples, flicking them the way that leaves your thighs squeezed shut, searching for friction where you're most sensitive.

Then, your vibrator miraculously comes back to life, buzzing with vigour right against your pussy. Squelches are joining the sounds of your gagging and you didn’t even know you were so wet already. It’s on the highest setting, driving you to overstimulation immediately and with cement for bones, you can’t move away from the onslaught of vibrations against your dripping cunt. 

Gagging even more, tears well up when you cum, squirting all over your bed just as he squirts cold, salty cum down your throat. 

You fall asleep thoroughly drenched. 

The next day, all the cabinets and doors are banging open and shut repeatedly. He’s throwing a tantrum. Great. He heard your phone call in the morning.

“Get over it, freak! I can’t keep relying on you for orgasms. So don’t get in the way of me and this guy,” you scream in your bedroom. You’re aware you look crazy but you don’t care. Enough is enough. 

The mirror shatters in front of you. 

“Yes, I will let him in. You can’t do anything about it. Just go to the light or something.”

A stuffed toy hits you on the head. 

“Oh my God! You did not. Ugh, whatever, watch me get fucked then, I don’t care. But keep your hands to yourself.”

Your guest doesn’t make it three minutes before he’s being scared shitless by the banging of cabinets, the opening and closing of drawers, the shaking of tables and shattering of glass cups. He’s running to the door before you grab him by his hand desperately. You almost convince him to move your two-person party to his house when a knife flies through the air and lands right in between you two, embedding itself into the wall. 

That’s the last straw. 

Just as he wanted, you’re left alone with the happy malevolent spirit. How do you know he’s happy?

Well, because suddenly the house is righting itself — cabinets and drawers are now closed, there’s no more shaking, glass shards are picking themselves back up, repairing all your broken cups. “Pretty pleased with yourself now, aren’t you? You are such a child, I can’t stand you.”

Not to mention, your dress is being lifted up and your panties ripped apart. 

He shoves his face in between your legs once more, tonguing your clit and massaging your pussy walls with his long fingers. This is his way of apologising, you guess, and whatever, you just have to accept your fate. Long tendrils wrap around your arms, lifting them up so you can grip something. Those very same vine-like phantoms tease at your nipples too, squeezing and pulling like his fingers would. Then you feel them seem to open up like little mouths before they suck on your nipples. Hard. There, standing in the crime scene, you cum. Heaving and lightened, you think it’d end there. 

It seems seeing that other man really pushed him because then you’re being spun around and shoved to the hardwood floor, dress folded over your back and drooling pussy exposed to the air. Something hard rubs against your most intimate area, coating itself in your wetness before it shoves itself, in one go, inside your pussy. 

“Fuck! G-go slow! Oh. My. God. Su. Ku. Na!”

His rhythm is monstrous. You’re practically screaming as he pummels your pussy with no consideration for the fact that your knees are being bruised and that your face is smushed against the dirty floor. 

Your gooey walls are being forced to stretch, lips all swollen and weeping. He’s planted so deep you can feel him in your throat, and then an arm is wrapping around your neck — he’s got you in a headlock, wrangling you back into a painful arch. From this angle, he goes in deeper. 

Another long, hard thing pushes inside your mouth and you don't know how any of this works but you swallow it down, allowing him to plug you up from both ends. They work in tandem, stretching your holes with a brutal pace.

The cock in your mouth cums first and you know, somehow, it's because he just wanted to coat your face in his ghoulish cum. Drenched, you can do nothing but take his intense pummelling with gratitude.

"Full! I feel so — yesss, right there — full."

There’s a noticeable bump on your lower stomach, years of pent up energy as a ghost being rammed into your poor cunt. Glop glop glop he goes through your juices which overflow, soaking your thighs. “Fuck, yessss.”

Watery slurps are emanating from your pussy where you’re gaping around nothing to the human eye. Sukuna gyrates his hips, heavy balls teasing your clit from the delicious angle, cock throbbing inside. 

“I’m c-close! More. I want more. Fuck me faster!”

And does he ever. 

Garbling out gibberish, you’re practically choking on your own saliva as he suffocates you with his arm.

When you cum, your vision blacks out and you fall limp, thoroughly exhausted and almost dead. But even then, he still continues to fuck you, using your body as a fleshlight, basking in your living warmth. As if your soul has separated from your body, you're aware of the thorough fucking your poor body is receiving, splashes of cum flooding the floor. Even unconscious, orgasms are being snatched from you.

Later, when you wake up, you’re in bed, tucked in with a ghostly tongue lapping up your mixed cum.

Pushing the cover off, you’re shocked to find a face and a body, firm and warm to the touch. He’s got pink hair, a muscular body and tattoos. There's nothing ghostly about the man between your legs. You can feel the blood coursing through his veins, can see the sharpness of his teeth as he flashes his pearly whites in threat, and the fingers that dig into the plush of your thighs are bruising.

Regretting not getting a priest involved after all, you gasp when you hear his voice, clear and loud, deep and powerful.

He says,

“You sleep like the dead.” 

[luvleyshif4]

bf!rafe Cameron x gf!reader

Summery~ bf!rafe coming back home from work to find a flustered and horny gf!reader but she can’t say it cause she’s shy.

Content~ Sexual tension, shy reader, slight humping, neck kissing, use of words like ‘princess, baby’ etc…

Authors Note~ Heyy!! I’m kinda trying out a new format so that’s why this looks like what it looks like… also this was so yum to write idk why but I just lowkey love this so much. Enjoy💗💗

Pt2

Rafe walks through the front door, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, tie loose around his neck, and hair messy from a long day at work. He drops his keys on the counter, letting out a sigh before he catches sight of you leaning against the kitchen island.

you stood there, clutching a glass of water in an effort to distract yourself from the way your stomach flips every time you see him.

"Hey, princess," he greets, his deep voice tinged with affection as he crosses the room in a few easy strides.

He reaches you, his hands immediately finding your waist like they always do, and presses a soft, casual kiss to your lips.

You're breathless by the time he pulls away, though he doesn't notice, already moving toward the fridge. "Miss me?" he teases lightly, throwing a glance over his shoulder as he grabs a water bottle.

"Always," you mumble, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. He shoots you a quick grin, but you can tell he doesn't think much of it. He's too busy twisting the cap off the bottle and leaning against the counter opposite you, taking a long sip.

"So," he starts, setting the bottle down and resting one hand on the counter behind him. "Dad had me running in circles all day. He's got this big deal he's working on, and guess who got stuck doing all the legwork."

You nod along, trying to seem like you're listening, but your eyes keep drifting to the way his chest looked with the first few buttons open, the way his throat moves when he talks. His voice, low and casual, is like a drug, making your pulse race.

He's oblivious to your inner turmoil, stepping closer to you as he continues talking. His hands naturally find your waist again as he leans in slightly, not because he's trying to fluster you, but because it's just second nature for him to be close to you.

"And then-" His words trail off as, without even thinking, he lifts you effortlessly onto the counter. The movement is so smooth, so casual, that it barely registers for him.

But for you, it's like a spark to a flame.

Your breath hitches as he sets you down, his hands still lingering on your hips.

He doesn't notice, though. He's still talking, still distracted, one hand on the counter beside you and the other lazily brushing against your hip.

It's too much. You can't take it anymore.

You slide forward slightly, your hips brushing against his, and suddenly, his voice falters.

He looks down at the contact, then back up at you, his expression flickering between confusion and realization.

"Oh," he breathes, his voice dropping an octave.

You feel like your face is on fire, but you can't stop yourself. Your hips roll gently, testing the waters, and you swear you see his jaw clench.

"Baby..." His tone shifts, softer, deeper.

His hands tighten on your hips as he steps closer, his body completely flush against yours now. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

You mumble something incoherent, too shy to respond, but the way his lips curve into a grin makes it clear he understands now.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, "Too shy, huh?" He chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

His mouth trails down your jaw to your neck, peppering soft, teasing kisses along your skin. Each press of his lips leaves you breathless, and before you realize it, your hands are tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

Your breathing grows heavier, the sensation of his lips on your neck too much and not enough all at once. A quiet sound escapes your lips, a soft moan that you can't hold back, and he freezes for a moment.

"Alright," he murmurs, his voice dropping further as he effortlessly lifts you off the counter and walks towards the bedroom. "Let me take care of you."

Authors Note~ I was thinking If there could be a part 2 for this…and if there could..how would it be? LEMME KNOW IF I SHOULD MAKE ONE💗

[oreo-creampies]

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, slightly suggestive groping (thigh) with toji and mention of his dick being half hard - nothing happens, plenty of gentle kisses, all of them are soft for you why wouldn't they be look at yourself, establish relationship

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Turning your head, muffling your yawn in Kento's chest covered by the softest sweater. "Mm stealing this sweater when you're done with it. You'll get it back when it no longer smells like you." Kento shuts off the TV, setting the remote underneath the side table lamp behind his head.

"How is this? I'll carry you to bed and you can sleep in my sweater. You need to get some good sleep." Yawning in response, tears blurring your eyes. Your jaw aching from how wide your mouth stretches from the sheer force of the yawn.

Slipping the blanket off of you, laying it over the back of the sofa. Kento sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist. Supporting you with a large hand on your ass. "Please, thank you Ken." Looping an arm around his broad shoulders, slipping your fingers into the nape of his sandy blonde hair.

Kento kisses the top of your head. "I love you so much beautiful, thank you for making this place a home. Can't think of going to bed without you by my side." Kissing the side of your head, hugging you tightly.

"I love you too handsome. It wouldn't be a home without you. The scent of your bread, the scent of your cologne lingering in the bathroom." Closing your eyes unable to keep them open anymore. Using all your energy to express, "Your coffee cups, books, house plants, and sweaters, everything. I love you."

Kento holds you with one arm, pulling the covers back. Leaning down, laying you down with care. "I'm deeply in love with you, and I fall again every day and night. With every smile, laugh, hug and kiss." He slips his sweater off, setting it on the edge of the bed next to you.

Slipping his arm underneath your waist and lifting your chest up. You hold your arms up for him to slip his sweater onto you. Before you lay down, Kento covers you in the soft blanket. Lovingly kissing your forehead, cheeks, and lips, tucking the blanket in along one side.

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Turning off the tv. "You're adorable falling asleep on me, am I comfortable?" Kissing his neck, he softly sighs, tilting his head to the side. Slowly trailing lazy kisses up his neck, slipping your fingers into his hair.

Sliding your fingers through his hair. "The coziest." Gliding his large hand down your back cupping your ass. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Keeping the blanket from slipping when he slowly stands up.

Gently urging you to, "Never let me go, let's cuddle till we have to get out of bed for food. Then you can hug me from behind when I make us some breakfast." Flicking off the living room light. The moonlight coming the patio's glass doors lighting Suguru's way towards the hallway.

You mumble, "Will you feed it to me?" Suguru chuckles, his chest rumbling. Wrapping his arm around your waist, hugging you. You're too tired to reciprocate with more than a squeeze of your legs around his waist soaking in Suguru's love.

"Yes my queen can have whatever she wants. You can sit in my lap when I do." Climbing onto the bed, kneeling, sliding the curtain behind the bed's headboard shut. Slipping the throw blanket off of you, setting it balled up on the side table.

Laying down with you on his chest, you barely unwrap your legs, straddling his hips. Deciding Suguru's thick pecs are the perfect pillow. The steady beating of his heart is comforting. Pulling the blanket up over his and yours's body, arranging the pillow underneath his head.

Sliding his hand from your cheeks to your soft thigh. Resting his other hand on your back. "I want to wake up with you sleeping on me like this. You're adorable clinging to me." Kissing the top of your head. "I hope I dream of you. To see your beautiful face eyes closed or open is my personal heaven."

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Flicking on the lamp on the side table near your head. Wrinkling your nose, your lips twisting in disgust at the light piercing through your sleep. "Aw you fell asleep waitin' on me how cute. I tuck ya up in bed, have a few, and then I"ll come lay down." Smiling at Toji's deep voice, taking a moment to process at he said.

Peeling the covers back, his eyes widen. "Fuck I should've gotten here sooner." Squeezing your thigh gripped by the garter belt. "Not only do I get to come home to you, but you look cozy and sexy. My shirt looks surprisingly good with these garters." Lifting you off the soft, holding you to his chest.

Kissing your forehead. "I bet that's 'cause you're the one wearin' 'em." Wrapping your arm around his neck, pressing your face into his hard pec. Softly biting. "'s that for being late. "m sorry like make it up to ya tonight. Won't let you go once; I'll be your big teddy bear." Smiling at Toji, you've missed the comfort of his arms.

Setting you down in bed, flicking on the lamp. "Mm teddy bear, missed you, your meanie being late by six hours. Worried." Toji turns around facing the pile of clothes in the hamper.

Struggle to keep your eyes open, for the sake of watching him peel his tight black shirt off. His thick arms flex, the muscles in his back tensing. Slipping his sweats off, turning around his cock half hard. "Sweetheart I'll always come back to ya, gotta put some more trust in me. Love ya too much doll."

He climbs into bed, pushing his baggy shirt up. "Love ya too teddy bear." Gently taking the garter belt off. Trailing kiss along the inside of your thigh. Throwing them onto the floor.

You slide your fingers through Toji's dark hair. He lifts its head, admiring you in his shirt before flicking off the light. Leaning down kissing your forehead, softly squeezing your hip, pressing his hard body to yours. His weight presses you into the bed momentarily. Rolling onto his back, pulling you into his side.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

You’re defeated, unable to open your eyes. The coziness of your head in his lap, his long fingers gently undoing your curls into a poofy mess. The tv has become a distance hum, the words becoming unintelligible.

Lightly poking your cheek. Smiling down at you admiring your beautiful face. He glances down at your lips. “You're such a sleepy princess!" Leaning down for a gentle, loving kiss. Which partly misses your lips from the angle he's at.

Using all your energy to smile up at him, your eyelids glued shut. "I can take your clothes off, and hold you close so I feel your warm soft body next to mine.” He lifts your head up, gently lying it down on the sofa. Standing up and scooping you up into his arms, holding you to his bare chest.

Satoru croons "You're definitely tired if you're not taking the chance to thank your heroic wonderful boyfriend in kisses when I'm saving you from walking." Slowly turning your head towards his chest and lazily puckering up your lips.

"Mwaaaa!" A yawn stretches out your kissing sound effect. Followed by an exaggerated one from Satoru. "Mwa." Your second one is barely audible.

"Aw beautiful you're making me sleepy too." There is a soft thud from his foot nudging the bedroom door open wider. "I need to show you how to properly cover someone in kisses before I go to bed. So you'll have to stay awake a few minutes longer." Laying you down on your side of the bed.

Climbing on top, straddling your hips, cupping your face. His palm is warm, and the gentle, slow swipes of his thumb are soothing. "Let me see your pretty eyes one more time so I can see them in my dreams." Opening one eye, then another.

Satoru chuckles, "What a beautiful frog my love is! I'd love you if you were a worm. But would you love me if you were a worm, and I was a bird?" When you don't respond within seconds. He cries, "You hate me!" Slipping your fingers into his snow-white hair, and pulling him in for a sleepy, gentle kiss.

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