#missaengg writes

[missaengg]

Fixin' Yer Bedhead

Jude: Oi, what happened to the mirror I bought ya?

Kate: Hm? It's sitting in my room. Why?

Jude: Then why're ya walkin' 'round with yer hair all messed up?

Kate: Oh, I was waiting for you to fix it, Jude.

Jude: ...

Jude: Hah... C'mere, princess, I'll fix it for ya since ya can't be bothered.

[missaengg]

Couldn't get this post out of my head, and felt inspired to write out Rafayel's portion.

With @jinwoosbabyboo's blessing... I hope I did you proud!! BECAUSE THIS POST RUINED ME 😭

The Last Call

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

It was supposed to be a quick mission. The top brass at The Hunter’s Association had good intentions. The plan was perfect.

The plan was to take back Hat Island, a small island right off of Linkon overrun with wanderers. The Hunter’s Associated believed – no, were confident – their new strength, not only in number, but also in the collective Evols and skills of their growing force had improved to finally take back the small island.

But they were wrong. So very wrong.

It was a suicide mission from the start. 

The wanderers were too smart, too evolved. During their time inhabiting this small, remote island, they had frighteningly evolved past what anyone could have ever imagined. The Hunters never stood a chance.

You panted as you ran from the onslaught of wanderers. Comrade after comrade had been slaughtered before your eyes, the number of Hunters dwindling rapidly with the knowledge that no reinforcements would arrive, until you were the only one left, wounded and alone. You pressed your hand to your side for dear life, trying in vain to suppress the blood gushing from your gaping wound.

You knew. You knew you weren’t going to make it back to Linkon. Back to him.

You had no other choice than to accept your fate.

Dragging your beaten body through the dense, thick trees, you stumbled across a hidden cave on the side of the mountain, a tiny respite from the ferocious carnage roaring outside of it. You slumped against the damp, cave wall, feeling the cold seep into your freezing body, clawing at the last shreds of consciousness so you could make one last call.

One last call to him.

He picked up even before the first ring finished ringing, as if he’d been waiting by the phone just for your call. That was just like him, to be waiting for your call, your Rafayel, your love, your everything.

“Hey, cutie!”

He sounded so happy you called. Your heart broke. It killed you to know that you’d be breaking his.

“You know you create the most beautiful art.”

You closed your eyes, picturing the last painting he proudly displayed to you once he’d finished, a beautiful rendition of the beach the two of you had visited during your last trip together just last month. He’d painted the moment perfectly, the soothing waves crashing on the shore, the cozy tenderness sitting together on the sand with a blanket draped over your shoulders, the wonderment watching the sun fade into a brilliant backdrop of soft pinks and oranges and yellows.

It all seemed so long ago.

“You’re making me blush, stop it.” 

You smiled. You could hear his flustered blush even miles away over the phone.

“I’m going to be painting pretty sunsets and sunrises for you, Raf.”

The tears you were holding back finally erupted, stinging your eyes, falling like a torrential storm.

“Huh?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice from wavering, trying to hide your tears from him.

“The next time you’re on the beach, and you see a beautiful sunset or sunrise… that’s me… painting the sky just for you.”

Rafayel fell silent. You could almost see the frown creasing his brow, the one he got when he struggled to understand what you were saying.

“No… no, no, you’re–”

Your heart ached hearing the panic flooding his pleas, but you cut him off knowing you didn’t have the luxury of time, and you needed to tell him, you needed him to know.

“I wish I would have hugged you tighter before I left…” You couldn’t hide your tears anymore, your anguish and regrets tumbling out in choked spurts. “I’m… I’m not making it back to Linkon…”

Rafayel’s breath hitched, a strangled whimper coming through the phone.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Rafayel was crying now. You heard the strain, the shaky vibrato of his voice, the voice you loved so much to hear murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, the voice you were never going to hear again.

It wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“I can come to you, just tell me where you are.”

You lowered the phone for a second, hot, angry tears streaming down your face, biting back the pitiful, heart wrenching wail threatening to burst from your tight chest, trying so hard not to break at the sound of him falling apart on the other end. You took a shaky breath in, so that he couldn’t hear your pain, hear you dying.

“I’m running on borrowed time right now, Rafayel.” 

He needed to know. He needed to know so that maybe… maybe even after your death he might be okay.

“I just wanted to tell you that I love you… so much.”

Rafayel broke. You clutched at your heart, feeling the stabbing pain of knowing that you were the one who broke him, knowing that you were the one leaving him breaking all the sweet promises you made.

“I love you too.”

You weakly smiled, finally allowing your eyelids to flutter shut.

Your breaths were labored now, your head hazy, unaware of how much blood had pooled on the floor in the short time you spoke to him on the phone.

“Good… good…”

You didn’t realize what you were muttering, your consciousness fading once you heard him say he loved you back, the last thing you needed to hear before you could finally let go.

You were so tired. So very tired.

Your hand slumped to your lap, your phone tumbling to the ground. Your body relaxed. Your breaths stilled.

No longer able to hear Rafayel’s wails once he realized you were gone.

Rafayel was never the same after that. He buried himself in his art, but his art changed. Before, his paintings were breathtaking and beautiful, but after losing you, they turned dark and twisted and deranged, his grief and pain splayed across canvas in dark, brooding colors, unable to use any shade that reminded him of you, and there were so many colors that reminded him of you.

So many colors that had once been inspired by you.

He shut himself away, refusing to leave his studio, refusing to interact with a world you no longer graced.

Thomas grimaced when he walked in. The room was steeped in darkness, the shades tightly drawn to block out the sun. Broken paintbrushes and slashed canvases littered the floor over dark, black splotches of paint staining the once pristine marble.

Rafayel sat in the center of the room, hunched on a stool before a large canvas splattered with black paint, the pattern reminiscent of a pool of blood. Your blood.

“Rafayel.” Thomas approached him, reaching out a hesitant hand, but changing his mind before he placed it on the artist’s shoulder. “You need to eat.”

Rafayel said nothing.

Thomas sighed, making a futile attempt at clearing away some of the resulting debris of Rafayel’s rage. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

Silence.

“The art gallery called. They’re canceling your exhibition. They said your new pieces are too… they’re just not what they’re looking for.”

Not even a stir.

It was only when a shrill alarm blared from Rafayel’s phone that he stirred, rousing from his melancholy trance. He moved mechanically, grabbing the only truly intact item in his vicinity, his camera. 

“Rafayel…”

Rafayel looked at Thomas, his face blank, devoid of any emotion save for the red that rimmed his eyes. Without a word, Rafayel slipped out the back door, headed towards the ocean mere steps away from his home.

Thomas exhaled heavily, watching Rafayel walk away.

Rafayel never missed a single sunrise or sunset after losing you, dragging his weary body out to the beach every morning and every evening, lamenting the days the clouds or the rain covered the sky. That’s how Thomas would always discover him, sitting on the beach, the same blanket from your last trip draped over his shoulders, camera in hand to capture the sunrises and sunsets you painted for him even in your death. 

To capture one more glimpse of you, the only part of you he had left.

Last Call

Calling the LADS Men to say goodbye because you weren't going to be making it home to them. A/N: MC isn't reincarnating this time sorry. Artist @/am_soul_art on insta

It was supposed to be a quick mission. The intentions were good and the plan was perfect. At least thats what the higher ups thought at the Hunter's Association. The plan was to take back Hat Island, the small island right off the coast of linkon overrun with wanderers. The Hunter's Association believed that their strength in not only numbers, but also Evols and skills had improved enough to take back the small island.

They were wrong. So very wrong.

It was a suicide mission from the start; the wanderers were too smart there was never a chance. You panted as you ran from the onslaught of wanderers that had evolved over time inhabiting this island. You watched as comrade after comrade was slaughtered right in front of you. The number of Hunters was decresing quickly and there was no help coming. You held your side for dear life as blood gushed from your wound. You accepted your fate right then and there. You weren't making it back to Linkon.

You managed to find a small cave on the side of a mountain where you could make one last call.

Zayne

The phone seems to ring forever you were afraid you weren't going to hear his voice in your last moments. Just as you thought it would go to voicemail he picked up.

Zayne: Hello MC: Zayne.... Zayne: Yes I'm here

You couldn't help the grin that overtook your face.

MC: Remember our trip to find 'old popsicles'? Zayne: Of course I do MC: Remember when you swept me away from my friends to go read in a secluded park? Zayne: Yes ... where is this coming from?

You took a deep breath before coughing and grunting form the pain.

MC: I just want you to always think of our good memories ... I don't think we'll be making anymore after today Zayne: What are you saying? MC: They're gone ... they're all gone ... and I don't have much time left.

You finally broke down and sobbed into the phone as reality truly set in.

Zayne: Wh- MC: Promise me you'll move on ... I want you to find something or someone to bring the same vivacity that I brought you ... don't shut yourself off from the world ... I want you to be happy ... remember me in a good light because just know I died doing what I love Zayne: ....dont leave me behind MC: I love you Dr. Zayne......

Zayne didn't hang up he stayed on the line until he could no longer hear your stuttering breaths. He couldn't keep that promise of moving on. He threw himself into his work to keep his mind busy. He was afraid if he slowed down for one second he'd never be able to recover.

Rafayel

He picked up on the first ring as if he'd been waiting by the phone just for your call.

Rafayel: Hey Cutie!

He sounded so happy at the fact that you called it was already killing you that you'd be breaking his heart with this call.

MC: You know you create the most beautiful art Rafayel: You're making me blush stop it MC: I'm going to be painting pretty sunsets and sunrises for you Raf Rafayel: huh?

You swallowed hard trying to keep your voice from wavering.

MC: The next time you're on the beach and you see a beautiful sunset or sunrise ... that's me ... painting the sky just for you Rafayel: No no no you're-

His words became panicked as you quickly cut him off

MC: I wish I would have hugged you tighter before I left ... I'm not making it back to Linkon ... I'm sorry Rafayel: I can come to you just tell me where you are

Tears streamed down your face as your voice broke at the sound of him falling apart on the other end

MC: Im running on borrowed time right now Rafayel I just wanted to tell you that I love you ... so much Rafayel: I love you too

Your head was already swimming you didn't even realize you muttered.

MC: Good ... good.......

Rafayel never missed a single sunrise or sunset after that. Thomas would always find him sitting on the beach with red eyes and a camera to capture the sky that you painted for him.

Xavier

He picked up on the third ring w/ a groggy voice; he'd been asleep.

Xavier: My little star

His voice brought you a kind of comfort that no words could describe.

MC: You made a good call getting sick this week you know that?

You couldn't help but giggle at the situation.

Xavier: What are you going on about? MC: Remember how pretty the stars were that night we danced in the forest? Xavier: Yea they were almost as beautiful as you

He always knew how to make you feel like the prettiest girl to ever exist.

MC: Well next time you gaze at the stars the one star that seems to twinkle and dance just for you ... that'll be me

A brief moment of silence....

Xavier: You're not saying what I think you're saying

You could hear rustling on the other end knowing he just sat up.

MC: I'm sorry Xav ... I'm so sorry ... I promised I would make it back to you, but thats a promise I can't keep anymore ... I'm losing blood fast I can already feel myself losing consciousness Xavier: Hang on I'll be right there

And there it was the choked sob that finally slipped out of you as you responded.

MC: It's too late Xav ... do you love me?

He was quiet for a moment before you heard his low raspy voice respond.

Xavier: Yes. Of course I love you with everything that I am

Those words brought one last smile to your face and you finally let your eyes drift closed.

MC: thats all I wanted to hear ... I love you Xavier..........

Xavier was never the same after that. He spent his days training to get stronger to the point where his hands were bloody. No one could get through to him not even Jeremiah. At night he swore he could hear your voice as he gazed at the stars.

Sylus

Sylus: Hi sweetie MC: I love you!

You heard his breath hitch and then silence. You had rendered Sylus speechless with the three words he always wanted to hear.

Sylus: Why so sudden? MC: I never got the chance to say it to you, but I couldn't go without letting you know Sylus: where-

You quickly cut him off because there wasn't much time left. You could quite literally feel your life slipping through your fingers.

MC: this mission was doomed from the start ... I'm not making it home to you tonight ... I'm sorry ... there’s no pain though so I must be dying Sylus: Stay right where you are I’ll come find you MC: Don't .... it's no use ... thank you for everything I was always happiest with you

You smiled as you admitted that to him; it felt good.

Sylus: Stop you're not dying on that island

You sniffled as tears began to sting the back of your eyes.

MC: it's too late ... just ... just tell me you love me Sylus: but- MC: Sylus please Sylus: I love you My Queen MC: Music to my ears........

Sylus still tried to look for you, but could never make it onto the island for the wanderers were too strong....even for him. Mephisto did however manage to find you and brought back the necklace Sylus had given you. It now sits on a mantle in a glass case.

[missaengg]

A Masochist, Are Ya?

Kate: …Ngh!

Jude: Too much for ya? Thought ya liked it when I bullied ya.

Kate: …

Kate: More… I want... more…

Jude: Hah? What’re ya? A masochist?

Kate: Only cause… hah... you’re a sadist, Jude...

Jude: *smirks wickedly*

Jude: Is that so, princess? I'll make ya regret sayin’ that tonight.

Kate: …!!

[missaengg]

Xavier is an Insatiable, Little Freak

Day 24 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Xavier x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, deepthroating, rough oral sex, face-fucking, fucking, p in v sex, creampie, Xavier is a freak Prompts: Deepthroating | “I can't stand a second more of not being inside you.” A/N: Ahhh... and I've finally caught up to Day 24 T.T ... minus a few days I skipped... ao3 link here.

Xavier needs to have his dick inside of you. Constantly. Doesn’t matter where as long as his cock is buried in you.

Your mouth. Your hands. Your thighs. Your breasts. Your sweet cunt.  Anywhere his dick can fit.

He just has to feel you wrapped around him.

He’s an insatiable, little freak.

It doesn’t matter if you’re going to sleep. Or cooking in the kitchen. Or taking a shower after a long, brutal day of fighting wanderers.

He needs to feel you.

And when he does feel your delicious warmth around his pulsing, trembling cock, he can’t help, but shower you with wave after wave of his scorching cum.

On the couch. On the bed. On the kitchen counters. On the floor. On the balcony. Against the mirror. Against the window. 

It doesn’t matter where as long as he gets to be inside of you.

You’re playing video games on the couch when he suddenly sticks his dripping cock into your wet mouth, curling his fingers into your hair, pumping into you with the desperation of a man deprived, getting off on hearing you choke and mewl and drool as his cock mercilessly bullies you, his fat tip slamming into your soft palate, refusing to stop until he’s painted the back of your throat white. 

Even as you push against his thighs. Even as you hit him with your fists. Even as you sputter and whine and gag.

It just excites him more.

And if you’re out in public, if you even brush against him, he’ll achingly groan, his eyes fluttering shut, a pained expression clouding his cherubic, chiseled face, and he’ll say… 

“I can’t stand a second more of not being inside you.”

Then he’s pushing you into a changing room, a closet, a bathroom, anywhere that has a shred of privacy before he’s bending you over, thrusting urgently into you without a single care for decency like this is the last time he’ll get to taste you, to feel your weeping pussy sucking in his needy, thick cock, and he won’t stop until he’s stuffed you full with his cum.

And he’s wearing a shit-eating grin from the mere knowledge his cum is pooling in your underwear while everyone you talk to is unaware of how lewdly you were crying out his name just moments before.

It doesn’t matter how many times he’s had you. 

Once. Twice. Thrice.

The record for one day is eight.

He’ll go all day if you let him.

And Xavier knows you’ll let him.

Because you’re an insatiable, little freak too.

[missaengg]

Massaging Lord Sukuna

Day 23 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Jujutsu Kaisen | Sukuna x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, massage, hand job, Lord Sukuna, servant reader, Sukuna is massive Prompts: Massages | “That's it, you're doing such a good job.” ao3 link here.

“Enter.”

The deep, foreboding voice commands you through the sliding doors. You enter, hastening to your Lord’s feet and falling to the ground in a deep bow.

“You called for me, my Lord?”

“Uraume tells me you’re well-versed in the art of massage.” “Y–yes, my Lord.” 

You keep your eyes trained on the polished wooden floor. You’ve heard the stories whispered among the other servants, how Lord Sukuna can change his mood on a whim, how if you happen to be present when his mood shifts… You shiver. You’ve seen the empty beds of those who entered his chambers and never returned.

“Stand before me.”

You scramble to your feet keeping your head bowed. You don’t dare look him in the eyes.

“Look at me.”

Trembling, you raise your chin, tentatively gazing into his cold, demon eyes. They appraise you slowly, taking his time to drag over every inch of your tiny form. You hold your breath, terrified of making the wrong move and catching his ire. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he looks away, releasing you from his hold.

“Do not disappoint me, wench.”

You inaudibly release the tense breath you’re holding in your lungs. “Yes, my Lord.”

Lord Sukuna disrobes, casually slipping the luxurious silk material fluidly off his shoulders and discarding it carelessly to the side. You gasp and avert your eyes quickly, a blush blooming on your cheeks at your Lord’s unabashed naked form. It’s your first time seeing a man – if Lord Sukuna can be considered a man – bare, and you’re surprised by how much you relish it, at the rush of heat overwhelming you. While it’s no secret Lord Sukuna has an informidable build, seeing him disrobed… you can’t help, but admire just how chiseled he is, how clearly each contour of his body is outlined under his flesh.

“Where…” You clear your throat, reaching for the massage oil. “Where would you like for me to focus, my Lord?”

“My shoulders and my back. Do not skimp on the pressure.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

You get to work briskly, slathering a generous amount of oil on your hands, rubbing them together to warm up the oil so your hands aren’t too cold. You don’t know if he’ll mind, but you prefer not to find out at the cost of your life.

Desperately attempting to quell your shaking, you place your hands on his shoulders, feeling his taut muscles ripple under your palms. You can tell that he’s tight, and you knead along the fibers, pressing as hard as you can with your thumbs. You run your thumb along a particularly dense knot, and Lord Sukuna grunts. Lightening your touch, you wonder if perhaps you’ve pressed too hard, and you wait with bated breath, waiting to see if he’ll turn on you in rage.

“Harder, brat. Do not make me say it again.”

You bite your lip to keep from squeaking in fear. “Y–yes, my Lord.”

You dig your thumb in the knot again, harder this time, rocking it back and forth to loosen what you can. Lord Sukuna grumbles in displeasure, your thumb too weak against the thick fibers of his dense muscle. Coating your elbow in oil, you press your bony joint into the stubborn point. You relax when Lord Sukuna sighs, now using your forearm and elbow to soothe the strain in his back.

“Uraume was right. You are satisfactory.”

A rare utterance of praise.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

The tense clench of your body begins to subside as you focus on the task at hand, finding a rhythm to the way your arms slide along his broad torso. You frown when your thumbs travel down towards his waist. His lower back is an impenetrable column, even tighter than the knots in his shoulders. Re-coating your hands with more oil, you rake your knuckles against the firm ropes of muscle, following the path to his glutes. 

You almost topple over once you realize where your hands are placed.

“F–forgive me, my Lord. I did not mean to touch you indecently.”

Lord Sukuna simply chuckles. “You wish to seduce your Lord?”

“No, my Lord!” You throw yourself into a deep bow even though you know Lord Sukuna can’t see you. “For–forgive me, my Lord!”

Lord Sukuna sighs. “You may continue.”

Shaking, you place your palms back down on his glutes, but the heels of your palms are too feeble against his powerful muscle. You wince. You have no choice, you’ll have to use your knees. Hiking the hem of your yukata up to your hips, you coat your knees in massage oil.

“Please excuse me, my Lord.”

“Hm?” Lord Sukuna’s bored hum hangs in the stifling tension, but he doesn’t move, uninterested in your next move.

You carefully climb on top of your Lord, your knees moving in opposing circles on his cheeks, leaning with your hands on his shoulder blades. You’re practically laying on top of him attacking both his glutes and his upper back simultaneously, painfully aware of your close proximity. You can feel his body heat radiating off of him in heavy crashing waves. For such a cold, imposing demon Lord, his body heat is impossibly, scorchingly hot, and you’re burning in its presence.

Lord Sukuna tenses, and you freeze. Are you not using enough strength? Remembering his earlier threat, you prepare to sink more of your meager weight into his flesh when he suddenly rises, and you tumble unceremoniously off his back to the hard floor below. 

Your breath catches in your throat, fear dancing in your now teary eyes. Is this where your life will end?

Lord Sukuna simply flips over in one swift movement, his back now on his futon. You catch a glimpse of his impressive twitching cock, and you almost choke at the sheer, monstrous size of his appendage. It’s standing at attention, fully engorged, a bead of something glistening on his tip. It’s your first time seeing a cock in real life, but they can’t possibly be this big… Can they?

“I’ve changed my mind…”

You forcefully tear your wide eyes away from his lap.

“I want you to work on my front.”

You’re still too dazed to fully comprehend Lord Sukuna’s request or wonder why he suddenly changed his mind when you’ve hardly worked on his back, which is still a mess of crunchy, tangled fibers. All you can do is stutter, “Yes, my Lord,” before moving to kneel by his head.

You jump when Lord Sukuna grabs you by the wrist, snapping you out of your dazed trance.

“By my side.”

You blink. You don’t understand why he wants to keep you by his side to massage his chest. The best placement for the neck and chest is with his head cradled between your knees, but you comply. You aren’t reckless enough to argue with him. What Lord Sukuna wants, Lord Sukuna gets.

“Yes, my Lord.”

You kneel by his chest. Despite the awkward angle, you do your best to knead his pecs. 

“Lower.”

You move your hands down until they’re directly cupping his chest.

“Lower.”

Abs aren’t quite an area that’s normally massaged, but you accede. While humans don’t generally prefer having their stomachs pressed, perhaps demons are different in that regard.

“Lower.”

This time you pause. Lower would mean… you blush furiously at what his command is implying.

“My Lord?”

“You heard me, brat. Lower.”

You hesitantly slide your hands lower following the trail of hair leading down to his… your blush deepens. There’s only one thing in that region that’ll require a massage, and it’s currently twitching quite violently in your view.

“Do I need to spell out what I want?”

The irritation threading through his words is clear. 

“N–no, my Lord.”

You know what he’s asking you to do. Taking in a deep breath, you grasp his thick shaft, your tiny hand barely able to close around its full girth. It’s throbbing, the protruding veins pulsing in a steady yet demanding rhythmic beat. You exhale. The feeling of a man’s dick is foreign to you, and you’ve heard other ladies giggling over their midnight trysts with the other men, but this is your first time even holding one in your palm, much less one this massive. 

Struggling to remember what exactly was shared in the cover of night, you timidly move your oil-slicken hand up and down his shaft. Are you supposed to squeeze? How fast are you supposed to go? Do you include the tip?

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears prickling your eyelids. You so desperately want to please your Lord, but you have no idea what you’re doing, and you’re too scared to ask. Too scared of the consequences that may follow.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

Lord Sukuna is staring at you, contemplating something in his head. There’s a look in his eyes you can’t quite read. You don’t know whether you should be struck with fear or something else entirely or a combination of both. Your hand stills. The moment is tense with unspoken words.

“Apply more pressure and increase your pace gradually.”

Relief floods your anxious, fearful heart. For whatever reason, he is being patient with you, and you’re grateful for his mercy. You strengthen your grip around him, and pump, twirling around his shaft to cover every exposed inch.

“That's it, you're doing such a good job,” Lord Sukuna purrs, his eyes still trained on you, still gleaming with the something you can’t identify.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“Do not forget to include the head of my cock.”

Your hand aches. After the strenuous exertion of massaging Lord Sukuna’s dense body and the width of his member, your fingers are cramping, at their limit, but you refuse to give in to the strain. Lord Sukuna has spared you several times already, and you’re determined to keep him pleased.

Lord Sukuna growls quietly under his breath, and you take a peek, taken aback at the rosy flush that has appeared on his cheeks and at the way his eyes are rolling under his eyelids and his mouth hangs open. His breaths are rapidly shallow.

He’s enjoying this.

Emboldened by your Lord’s response, you pump furiously. This time remembering to include the bulbous head. Your hand glides easily, the massage oil acting as a slick lubricant allowing you to increase your pace smoothly.

Your aim is to please your Lord, but you feel unsettled by the way your thighs are rubbing together, the way his growl has awoken a fluttering in your belly, the way you ache and throb between your legs.

Sukuna’s growls grow louder, interspersed with guttural grunts, all laced with a feral edge. Every so often his hips jerk against your fist until his cock pulls taut, and with a fearsome groan he erupts, shooting wave after wave of his white cum, his explosion so powerful and copious, his cum is spilling over your fist and spurting onto your clothes.

The ladies spoke of what happens when a man is pleasured, but this… This is something else entirely. Lord Sukuna’s release is a relentless torrent of white far beyond anything you’d previously heard. 

Lord Sukuna finally stills, his breathing labored. Despite spilling an impressive amount, his cock is still undeniably firm. He cracks his eyes open, and he languidly smirks, taking in the way you’re practically bathed in his cum.

“You have pleased me, little one.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” You bow, ignoring just how drenched you are from his release. “If you are satisfied, I shall take my leave.”

You’re so shaken from how much pleasure you also felt from pleasing your Lord, you forget you must first be dismissed before leaving his presence.

Lord Sukuna narrows his eyes, and he grabs you by the arm, pulling you closer towards him. “I’m not done with you, brat,” he hisses.

You flinch, recognizing your impudence. “I’m sorry, my Lord,” you whisper, flushing from how close his face is to yours.

Lord Sukuna trails his finger down your cheek, a wicked grin gracing his lips. You look into his eyes, finally understanding the gleam you couldn’t identify earlier.

Ravenous hunger.

He brings his lips so close to your ear, they brush your helix causing you to shiver, and says…

“I won’t be done with you until morning.”

[missaengg]

Falling for the Head of Onychinus

Day 8 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptations hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Sylus x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, some fluff, car sex, hand jobs, semi-public sex, penis in vagina sex, alternate universe, not edited in the slightest... Prompts: Sex in a Vehicle | “Look at you, you're taking it so well.” A/N: OMG THIS TURNED OUT WAY LONGER THAN I EXPECTED, BUT I JUUUUST MADE IT FOR DAY 8!! 🙃 ao3 link here.

God, it was wrong. It was so wrong. You knew it was wrong. He was the head of Onychinus, the biggest crime syndicate in the N109 Zone, and you were a Hunter, sworn to uphold the law and bring him to justice. And yet… despite knowing how fucked you would be if The Hunter’s Association knew, you would find yourself once again in his bed or in a changing room or in a dark, seedy back alley or in his car moaning without abandon, writhing on his taut, muscular body with him deep inside of you. Because fuck, his touch did something to you. One look of that animalistic lust in his crimson eyes, and you melted into a pool of fervent heat practically begging for him to devour you until you were exhausted and spent.

Each and every time after you dragged your sinfully brutalized body back home, you would vow that would be the last time. Never again. Your resolve only lasting until he came around the next time.

Or so it was, until you realized you hadn’t seen a glimpse, not even a hint, of the infuriatingly arrogant crime lord in weeks though it felt like months. He had this annoying stalkerish tendency, and when he wasn’t within your direct view, you swore you would catch a glimpse of silver hair or hear the fluttering of a crow’s wings or catch the tail end of a sport motorcycle zooming off around the corner.

Nothing.

For weeks, nothing. Not a single silvery wisp. Not a single caw. Not the rumble of his bike. Not even when you were in his territory, patrolling the N109 Zone.

It was unlike him, and you were perturbed.

You had gotten used to looking for hints of his presence, used to catching tiny signs of him in the peripherals of your eyes, and just when you were starting to get restless, he would appear before you, with his smug smirk and sexy nonchalance, leaving you weak in the knees and shivering.

You checked the date on your phone, frowning once you calculated how long it’d actually been since you last saw the man, Sylus, how long it’d been since he had you bent over a grimy sink in the bathroom of a dingy club he found you in for Tara’s birthday, pushing your head against the foggy mirror and furiously thrusting into your mewling, sopping cunt.

One month. It had been one month and ten days since you last saw him, the longest it had been since he discovered you in the N109 Zone hunting him.

It occurred to you that you might actually miss him, or rather your body missed his delicious touch. After his absence, in the first week, you noticed a peculiar restlessness, a light stirring deep within your lower belly, a flutter of anxiety. In the second week, you felt a disconcerting thirst, a thirst that couldn’t be satiated no matter how many times you stroked yourself or slipped a few fingers inside. In the third week, you developed an aching throb between your legs, painful and distracting and only in want of release. In the fourth week, you found yourself occupied with thoughts of only one man, Sylus, dreaming about coming undone around his thick cock and waking up to a damp mess underneath. All to where you were now, feral and in heat, perpetually dripping, desperate for him to relieve you of this consuming obsession.

He was your addiction. And you were in withdrawal, frantically seeking your fix.

“Fucking bastard,” you huffed to yourself, still staring at your phone in the middle of sidewalk by a busy street within Linkon. “Stupid fucking bastard.”

“Who’s a stupid fucking bastard?”

You recognized that deep, silky voice. You’d recognize that deep, silky voice anywhere. You looked up from your phone to see Sylus lounging in an aggressive sports car, a Lamborghini Revuelto, stupidly expensive and powerful and luxurious and just like him.

“I thought I told you not to come around again,” you scowled, crossing your arms, hiding that you were in fact ecstatic he finally showed.

“That’s not what your body’s telling me, kitten,” Sylus smirked, his smug gaze salaciously trailing from your face to your thighs.

You looked down, cursing under breath at how firmly your thighs were clenched together. When did that happen? But good god, was that voice doing things to you. A blistering inferno was raging in your core threatening to overwhelm you in its desire to consume you whole. You could only hope your cheeks weren’t the same blazing furious shade of red as your needy cunt.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm.”

You stared at him defiantly, arms crossed, chin raised, waiting to see who would buckle first because it wouldn’t be you. It couldn’t be you.

“Are you going to get in the car or not?”

“No.”

“Are you sure about that?” he purred silkenly, a seductive mischievous gleam in his eyes, as if he were confident that you would ultimately end up in his bed that night.

No, you weren’t sure about that. You weren’t sure about that at all. You swallowed thickly, knowing it was over the moment he trapped you with those damn magnetic eyes. Your resolve was crumbling as quickly as he showed up in front of you wanting nothing more than to have him whisk you away and have his filthy, depraved way with you.

“I’m sure,” you hoarsely spit out, convincing no one, not even yourself.

Sylus said nothing. He simply sat there drumming his fingers on his leather steering wheel peering at you curiously with what appeared to be displeasure on his brow. You stubbornly stared back, feeling the seconds click away. A stalemate.

Finally, he clicked his tongue.. “Alright then, kitten. Another time then.” The car roared back to life.

You bit your lip, chewing on the soft flesh inside your lip. He couldn’t just leave, not like this, not after he disappeared for weeks leaving you a tight pretzel of a woman, but you also didn’t want to lose. Not again. The brake lights came on, a sign he’s shifted the car from ‘P’, and as he revved the engine–

“Wait!”

The revving stopped. Sylus, still facing forward, angled his head so he could peek at you.

“Why’d you disappear?”

Silence. You licked your lips and tried again.

“You were gone for over five weeks. Where were you?”

You watched Sylus with bated breath, heart pounding like a drum in your chest. His face betrayed nothing, not a hint of what he was feeling, what he was thinking.

Then a corner of his mouth curled up into a sly, cheeky smirk. There was a dark amusement dancing in his eyes, the force of which was rolling off of him in thick, heavy waves.

“Did you miss me?”

“No,” you whispered, more out of instinct, but also because you were loath to admit that you did miss him. You yearned for him more than you’d ever care to admit.

“Liar.”

Yes, you were.

“Get in the car, kitten.”

You hated it – and loved it – when he told you what to do, and he hated it – and loved it – when you refused to accede.

“Not… not until you tell me why you were gone for so long.”

Sylus huffed sharply. Your fists curled into fists, digging your fingernails into your palms in sharp mini lines of pain.

“I had to take care of business.”

“What kind of business?”

Sylus scowled, leveling his irritated glare on you. You forgot how intimidating the head of Onychinus could be, how ruthless the man who fucked you so tenderly could be.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

“Sylus.”

A small, frustrated growl rumbled from Sylus who exhaled heavily, tapping the steering wheel with his pointer, and in an uncharacteristically subdued voice–

“I was injured, kitten.”

Something lurched in your heart when hearing his admission. Something about Sylus disappearing, about knowing he could potentially die on you someday unleashed an all-consuming fear you weren’t even aware you had. You blinked, surprised at the tears welling in your eyes, not enough to fall, but enough to display the dull ache that’s settled into your heart.

“Open the door.”

As soon as the door closed behind you, Sylus zoomed off in the direction of the illicit underground he called his home. You couldn’t keep your gaze off of him, scrutinizing his profile as if you were studying for an exam. He looked as he always did. There were no hints of scars or injuries. He wasn’t holding himself differently or hunched over in any kind of pain. Was it something mild if he recovered in five weeks?

“You should take a picture, kitten, it’ll last longer.”

Sylus still had that infuriating arrogant sneer on his face, but there was something a little more tender about the way he looked at you compared to the ravenous hunger from before. You looked out the window. It was dark and remote, one of the many abandoned roads on the way to the N109 Zone from Linkon City.

“Pull over,” you hoarsely commanded.

“Kitten?”

“Pull over,” you commanded once more forcefully.

Sylus wrinkled his brow in concern, but pulled the car off to the side, thankfully behind a grove of overgrown trees, not that it mattered. His car windows were tinted so dark no one would be able to see anything inside, especially at night.

“Turn off the engine.”

Sylus arched an eyebrow, but did as you asked without question. As soon as the car rumbled off, you were out of your seat, crawling into his lap the best you could despite the cramped interior, smashing your lips against him. Your tongue pressed urgently against him demanding entry, and when given, you wasted no time tasting him, exploring him with your tongue. Sylus hungrily pushed back, laying claim to your lips in a battle of dominating rapacious wills.

The seat fell back, and you squeaked as Sylus hauled you up like a ragdoll onto his lap. Once he had you settled and straddled across his hips, you dove back into fervently connecting your mouths in a dizzying torrent of kisses, losing yourself in the passionate flush of your bodies pressed together. His hands were in your hair, fingertips brushing your scalp as he threaded his fingers into knots, each brush a feverish tingle making its way down your spine and pooling into a slick arousal. Your fingers grasped blindly at his tailored, collared shirt, wrinkling the fabric with how hard you were gripping him. You wanted, no, needed him. You needed to feel the beating of his heart, the breath in his lungs, the warmth of his flesh. You needed to feel he was alive. You needed to fuck him.

Without separating, you began undoing the buttons of his shirt, fingers fumbling in your haste, the passion leaving your fingers clumsy and inept, struggling to pop the tiny plastic circles out of their buttonholes. You wondered if you should just rip the damn thing off of him, but then you had the fleeting thought that this shirt likely cost more than what you made in a single month.

“Let me.”

Sylus pulled his lips away and removed his hands from the tangled mess your hair had become, which you protested with a tiny whine, to do exactly what you considered, the heavy breathing filling the car interrupted by the clatter of flying buttons. Your eyes widened, the complete indifference of how easily he ruined his shirt spine-tingling arousing.

“Come here.”

Sylus guided you by the back of your head back down to meet him, this time capturing your lips with a softer, slower kiss, though it didn’t stay soft or slow for long, the intensity building back into a disorienting haze. His hands slipped under your sweater, leaving a trail of lingering fire as they roamed eventually finding their way to your breasts. You moaned into his mouth, his fingers pulling and pinching you sensitive. You ached for him, your slick arousal pooling in the apex of your legs. You ground yourself against the prominent erection in his pants, the friction of the fabric catching on his outline and dragging across your damp slit sending jolt after jolt of electricity up your back intensifying the pleasure you were drowning in.

“Fuck,” Sylus roughly grunted, the rocking of your hips against him chipping away at his composure.

Something inside of you snapped when Sylus grunted. You reached for his pants in a frenzy, undoing the button and yanking them down, whining when you couldn’t until Sylus lifted his hips up for you to free what you wanted, his throbbing cock. You abandoned your quest at pulling down his bottoms when you saw it spring free. Wrapping a hand around it, you thumbed the precum leaking out of his tip rubbing it on his frenulum, reveling in the sharp hiss he expelled at your teasing. You stroked him, slowly, sensually, gripping and releasing as you moved up and down.

“Kitten,” Sylus rasped, grasping your chin and planting a sloppy kiss. “Let me feel you.”

You kissed him back, nibbling along his bottom lip, absolutely tickled by the drunk, dazed look in his eyes, the way he was looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. Your chest was heaving, your breaths heavy with want. Hiking up your skirt, you pulled your underwear to the side, too impatient to contort yourself into a different position to pull them down. You rocked your slick pussy against his engorged cock, making sure your arousal coated him well, and it had to coat him well otherwise he wouldn’t be able to slide in due to his sheer size. Inhaling, you lowered yourself onto him, taking an inch of him at a time waiting to adjust to how deliciously he stretched you to your limits. Each inch sent Sylus groaning – shuddering, strangled groans, and when you finally bottomed out, the guttural grunt he uttered sent you keening, the combination of his pleasure mixed with your own sensation of being full having you see stars.

You moved gradually, gyrating against his pelvis, his pelvic mound stimulating your clit, his tip tapping your cervix just right. Sylus was gripping the sides of your hips, his large hands dwarfing your sides. His eyes were fixed on where you ended and he started, mesmerized by the way your cunt moved against him.

“Look at you, you’re taking it so well,” he breathed, voice thick with lust and desire.

He bit his lip, his eyes growing darker and darker with a savage glint. You’d seen that glint in his eyes before. It was always before he’d lose control, rutting into you as if he couldn’t get enough, when he’d let his carnal needs take over and claim you as his own.

“Fuck, kitten.”

He gripped you so tightly you let out a wanton cry, and you could only helplessly bounce on his lap when he took over, pummeling up into you fervidly, mewling cries falling off your lips as the sound of slapping skin filled the car. He was driving into you relentlessly, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, your mouth falling open into a sultry pout. He was driving into you so hard, you were sure your cervix was going to be bruised tomorrow morning, but you didn’t care, he was intoxicating. You were drunk off his cock, addicted to his cock, and no matter how many times he drilled into you, no matter how many times he brought you to climax, you knew you’d be back for another taste.

“Ngh… Sylus!”

You were close, so close. Your body was taut, every nerve on fire, the quiver of ecstasy building into a crescendo. Sylus nestled his head into your neck, licking and sucking on your tender skin, and then you reached the peak, shuddering uncontrollably, convulsing around him in a cacophony of dizzying bliss. You could barely see, riding the high of your climax while Sylus continued to rut into you rapidly, the feverish overstimulation rippling through you.

And then Sylus burst, his cock spasming in your warm pussy, flooding himself into you, spurts of his cum filling you with his warmth, all while calling your name in a throaty whisper in your ear.

Panting heavily, you slumped against his shoulder feeling his climax seeping out of you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, slick from sweat, and he planted soft kisses behind your ear, his other hand gently brushing back your hair, running his fingers through it to tame the mess he made.

You pushed off of him so that you were sitting upright, taking in every detail you could of his flushed, dazed face.

“Did you almost die?”

Sylus flinched, your question startling him out of his blissful reverie.

“Kitten, what do you mean?”

“When you said you got injured, did you almost die?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you asked the question, unsure if you were ready to hear the answer, heart pounding, brows knit together. Sylus gave you a lopsided grin, tenderly placing his hand on your cheek.

“No, kitten, I didn’t almost die.”

“Then why were you gone for weeks?”

You knew you sounded angry, but you weren’t angry, not really, or maybe you were a little. But more than that, you were worried. You were worried about the man you were supposed to be hunting, the man you weren’t ever supposed to fall for, the man who had the ability to derail your entire life in his hands.

“Because, kitten, I didn’t want you to worry.”

Your mouth dropped open. You expected a lot of things, but you didn’t expect that. Not that. Not that what you were sure was just animalistic fucking had turned into something else entirely, not just for you, but him as well. Not that the infamous head of Onychinus might actually care for you.

“That’s silly,” you muttered, a faint blush dusting your cheeks, averting your gaze from him.

“As silly as you worrying about me?” Sylus chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and tantalizingly through you.

You pouted, because it was, this whole thing was silly. You were a Hunter for god’s sake. This was unprofessional and wrong and fucked up and yet so deliciously wonderful and sinfully good and thrilling.

“I hate you.”

“I like you too.”

You sighed, annoyed, but that didn’t stop you from leaning down and snuggling back into his chest hearing his heartbeat in your ear, the sound soothing your anxiety. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to let go in his embrace. There was a lot you had to think about, but tonight… tonight all you wanted was to be in his arms in his bed.

Tomorrow. You would think about everything else tomorrow.

[missaengg]

His Dirty Little Secret

Day 8 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptations hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Xavier x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, smut and fluff, body worship, legs worship, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, gentle kissing Prompts: Body Part Worship | “And here I thought you were an innocent one.” ao3 link here.

Xavier loved legs, or, more specifically, your legs. He worshiped them. Couldn’t keep his hands off of them. Drove him insane.

You’d be sitting together on the couch in your short little lounge shorts, and his hands would be crawling all over them, sliding up and down, kneading the soft skin, nuzzling his soft nose and pressing his plush lips all over them.

Your lap was his favorite pillow. The scent of you that enveloped him his aphrodisiac.

They were his joy, his exhilaration, his dirty little secret.

He started with tender hands and soft kisses, kneading the skin in a sensuous massage, exploring every exposed inch, breathy sighs warming up your thighs until they turned greedy… needy… fingers gripping you tight, eyes darkening with a carnal hunger. He drooled as he devoured them in his supple, needy mouth like they were the last, scrumptious meal he’d ever have, erotic throaty moans expelling from him with every caress.

He’d look up at you through half-lidded, lusty eyes, tongue gliding up your inner thigh, dangerously close to the apex between your legs.

Every time he looked at you with that longing smoldering in his beautiful sapphire blue eyes, your breath would catch, an overwhelming heat flooding your own body. 

And… almost as if he knew how flushed you were becoming, he’d nudge himself in between your legs, burrowing his nose into your dampening slit, breathing in deeply, flicking his tongue against your sensitive, throbbing bud over your clothes, groaning at your arousal seeping through the fabric.

Until something deep within him snapped, and he just had to have a taste.

Emitting a low growl, he’d rip off whatever offending pieces of clothing were in his way, ruining many hapless pairs of bottoms and your favorite underwear in his haste, in his feral need to run his tongue along your slit, all in a desperate attempt to drink from you to quench his unbearable thirst.

Your fingers would thread into his silky, ash blonde hair, tugging at various levels of intensity based on what his mouth was doing, from tiny kisses along your folds to nibbling on your bud to plunging in as far as he could go, firm hands holding your hips in place while they jerked wildly into his fervent ministrations.

Each lick, each nibble, each suck, each dart all building into a sweet symphony of blinding, pulsing bursts of ecstasy, and he’d latch on with the entirety of his mouth, lapping eagerly in order to catch every last drop you weeped in an all-consuming bliss.

Each whimper you uttered sending him into an uncontrollable frenzy, and without providing you any respite from the electric jolts of his staggering provocation, his ravishment would start anew, teasing you into yet another swell of a glorious, dizzying crest, over and over until he finally had his fill of your sweet nectar, though it was never enough. 

Upon finally releasing you, he’d murmur how much he adored you, once again trailing the softest, fluffiest kisses away from your thoroughly loved sex while you trembled beneath him.

You’d peer down at him, a flushed fondness glowing in your eyes, drowning in his drunk gaze, and every time you’d say, “And here I thought you were an innocent one”, a whimsical smile gracing your lips. 

Closing his eyes, he’d wrap his arms around you, nestling his head back into your lap, and in a thick voice quip back, “But I am” before being lulled to sleep with your fingers stroking his hair, enveloped in the smell and warmth of you. 

Laying together for hours as the sun set and the room turned dark, wrapped up in one another.

[missaengg]

Missing You

Day 3 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, established relationship, phone sex, dildo, sex toys, masturbation, pwp Prompts: Phone Sex | "See this? It's going to go inside you." ao3 link here.

You stare morosely at your phone. Rafayel had left for an art exhibition in another city a week ago, and despite knowing that he has an insanely jam-packed schedule, you feel miffed he hasn’t had a chance to call even once during that time. 

Your face lights up when your phone starts ringing, the face of your boyfriend lighting up the screen. “Hello?”

“Hi, cutie. Miss me?”

You sigh, leaning back against the sofa. “Tons. When are you getting back?”

“Next week. Thomas has me touring the west side. I think I’ve got an exhibition almost every other day, interviews lined up in between, and gallery parties in the evenings.”

“I love and hate that you’re so busy.”

Rafayel chuckles, the sound tinny and flat through the phone speaker. “I hate being away from you for even a day.” 

“Me too…”

“I have a surprise for you to make up for how long I’ll be gone.”

Your ears perk at the word ‘surprise’, bolting up in eager anticipation.

“It should arrive right abooooooout… now.”

The doorbell rings as soon as Rafayel finishes speaking. Curious, you make your way to the door, opening it to a medium sized box on your welcome mat.

“Open it.”

You bring the box inside back to where you were sitting on the couch, ripping open the tape and pulling out the crumpled paper inside to… what appeared to be a dildo? “Um, Rafayel, what is this?”

"See this? It’s a mold of my dick. It's going to go inside you."

You gulp. For some reason, this replica seems much bigger than he is in real life. “Are you sure you didn’t make the dildo bigger? I could’ve sworn you’re not this big.”

“I–” Rafayel pauses, and in the most indignant tone he can muster, utters, “Of course I’m that big. How the hell are you remembering me?” An irritated sigh floats through the speaker. “I’m going to have to remind you just how big I am when I get home… but in the meantime, that’s going to go inside of you.”

“You want me to have sex with a dildo?”

“My dick shaped dildo. And we’re going to have sex using the dildo as a temporary placeholder until I get back.”

You squint your eyes, staring at the smooth, silicone dildo before you, tilting your head at how we would be having sex. “How?”

“Like this.” You can hear the mischievous twinkle in his voice even over the phone. “I kiss you lightly. My hands are on your cheeks, and they make their way down to your neck, over your shoulders, down to your chest, grazing your breasts. Touch yourself lightly there like I’m touching you. What are your nipples doing? Are they hard?”

You blink. Oh. You follow Rafayel’s instructions, lightly grazing your hands across the front of your breasts. Your nipples pucker under your clothing into firm nubs poking through the thin cardigan you’re wearing. “They’re hard. They’re… poking through my sweater.”

“Good, good. Now I’m placing my thumbs on them, applying pressure, rolling them underneath.”

You roll your thumbs over yourself, feeling tingles within your core from the stimulation. “That feels good, Raf.”

“Now give them a pinch for me.”

You squeeze with your pointer and your thumb, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. 

Rafayel groans in response to your gasp. “Are you turned on yet? Getting nice and wet for me?”

“I’m not wet enough.”

“Hm… we’re going to have to fix that then, aren’t we?” You hear him shift on his hotel bed, the covers rustling from his movement. “I slide my hands down your torso – are you wearing a skirt or pants?”

You still when your hands reach the waistband of your bottoms. “I’m wearing a skirt.”

You swear you can hear Rafayel smirk over the phone. “Even better. I slide my hands down over your hips to your thighs until I reach the hem, and then I push the fabric up exposing you to your panties. My fingers–”

“– I’m not wearing any.”  

“...What?”

“I said I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Rafayel’s breath catches in his throat at your admission, and knowing your lovely boyfriend, you imagine his face is turning beet red. When he begins breathing again, his breaths are shallow and rapid, and his voice is strained. “Why aren’t you wearing any panties?”

“...iwasthinkingaboutyou…” you mumble into the phone, your own face now a brilliant shade of red mirroring the blush that has likely formed on your boyfriend’s face.

“What?”

“I–” you groan at having to voice this thought out loud, the flush on your face growing even darker, “I was thinking about you!”

A long guttural groan comes through over the speaker. “Naughty cutie,” Rafayel practically hisses. “You’re making this so hard for me.”

“Are you hard right now?” 

“Yeah, so hard for you.”

“Are you… touching yourself?” You ask Rafayel tentatively, feeling shy at being this vocally intimate for the first time.

“Of course I am.” 

Rafayel’s groans flood your core, tingles radiating throughout your lower belly, leaving you squirming in your seat. You don’t care that you might stain your couch with your arousal. All you care about at the moment is Rafayel’s desire for you.

“Fuck, play with yourself for me.”

“You mean my clit?” “Yeah. Imagine I’m touching you, and touch yourself for me.”

You press a trembling finger to your clit, rubbing it in a circle, feeling your nerves burn. You close your eyes, imagining it’s Rafayel stroking you. You moan with each pass, the fire in your core growing hotter.

“God, I wish I could see you touching yourself.” Rafayel’s grunting quietly. 

You can barely hear his grunts over the phone under your own moaning, but the sound is only adding to the throbbing growing between your thighs. “I wish you were here.”

“Me too, baby. Me too,” Rafayel croons. “Are you dripping yet?”

You slide your finger through your slick folds, toying with your opening. “Tons. I’m so ready for you.”

“Grab my dick.”

You grasp his dick-shaped dildo in your hand.

“I enter you slowly, sinking in all the way until I’m filling you entirely. Can you feel me?”

“Ngh.” The sensation of his dick filling you leaves you gasping, your walls sucking his replica in. “You’re so big.” You’re panting already, delighted at how much he’s stretching you out.

“God, I can almost feel you.”

“Are you sure you’re really this big normally?”

“Seriously? I’ll remind you just how big I am when I get home, multiple times. Now focus.” Rafayel sulks, his pout reaching you though you’re unable to see the expression on his face. 

You grin wickedly hearing your boyfriend flounder. “Multiple times. You promised.”

“Honestly,” he huffs, his voice strangled on the other end of the line. “I should cancel the rest of this trip and come home right now.”

“But you can’t,” you hum in faux sympathy.

Rafayel growls impatiently. “I thrust into you. Follow me, baby. Fuck yourself with my cock. Pretend I’m there fucking you.”

You pump the dildo furiously, the silicone dragging on your walls. Your body remembers your boyfriend’s shape, your walls greedily dragging him in deep. 

“Put the phone by your pussy. I want to hear it.”

You place the phone on the couch by your gyrating hips hoping the sounds of his replica entering and exiting you carry through. “Can you hear it?”

Rafayel sharply inhales, which he then exhales in a low, guttural groan. “Fuck. Oh, fuck, that’s good.” 

Desperate for more, you reach your other hand down to probe your engorged clit. Your eyes roll back in your head, ecstatic moans ripping from your throat, his name falling off your tongue.

“Say my name, cutie.”

“Rafayel,” you moan, drawing out the syllables of his name.

Hearing his name on your lips excites Rafayel, and you hear the slapping of his fist against his pelvis accompanied by the sound of skin against skin. He’s groaning, the pace of his pumping growing into a feral frenzy. “Are you… are you close?”

“Mmhmm…” Your butt lifts off the couch, all the muscles in your legs tensing from the electricity building in your core. “Close, so close.”

“Cum for me,” Rafayel commands.

You let go, the shockwaves of your ecstasy washing over you in waves, a passionate cry bursting from your chest. “Rafayel.” Feeling your walls convulse around Rafayel’s replica, you repeatedly cry out his name.

Rafayel follows soon after, his utterances of ‘fuck’ making you smile in your blissed out state. You sink to the soft cushions below you without pulling out the toy Rafayel sent you.

“Did you make a mess?” Rafayel’s voice floats to you, twinkles of laughter evident in the satisfied exhaustion.

“When have I ever not with you?” You sweetly chuckle, curling up next to the phone now by your head.

“Heh… we’ll have to make a mess together then when I’m back.”

You hum, smiling as you close your eyes. “I need to inspect how big you are compared to your dildo. I seriously still think you may have augmented yourself a bit.”

“This again? Cutie, I promise you I really am that–”

You shake with laughter at Rafayel’s indignant protests, interrupting him to say “I prefer the real you. I miss you.”

“Me too. One more week, and I’ll be home.”

“I may need to sleep with Little Rafayel until you get back.”

“Don’t replace me with him!” Rafayel falls silent, and in a little voice adds, “Please.” 

You shake your head. “Never. Only when you’re not here.”

“Good.” Rafayel clicks his tongue. “I have to go, I’m supposed to attend some dinner soon, but I gotta clean up first.”

You whine feeling empty at the prospect of having to hang up the phone. You hear Rafayel sigh from the other side.

“I’ll try to call you soon,” he murmurs, feeling forlorn himself. “Keep Little Rafayel on hand for when I do. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better,” you tease, covering up how much you loathe to let him go.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Rafayel hangs up the phone. You stare morosely at your phone again, but this time, you feel a little less lonely knowing that you have a little piece of him – as reminded by the feeling of him inside you – to keep you company until he returns.

[missaengg]

Kitten, You're Beautiful

Day 5 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Sylus x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, fluff, mild hurt/comfort, mild angst, mirror sex, comfort sex, established relationship Prompts: Mirror Sex | "Let's see how long you can last." ao3 link here.

Your clothes didn’t fit anymore. Sighing, you pinched the fat above your tummy, grimacing at how much more flesh was caught between your fingers than before. The floor-length mirror in front of you reflected your entire body, clad only in ill-fitting underwear, back. You hated it. You hated what your body had become, the soft dimples on your thighs, the extra cushion around your waist, the jiggle on your upper arms.

You angrily sighed, eyeing the clothes you ripped from your closet lying on the floor of your bedroom. You tried on almost every item of clothing you owned. Nothing, absolutely nothing laid on you correctly. The waistband of your jeans pushed up the fat on your hips into a hideous muffin top. Your crop tops showed too much of your swollen belly. Your blouses strained against your chest and shoulders. An aggravated, disapproving growl erupted from your throat, and you dug the heels of your hands into your eyes to stop the tears prickling your eyelids from falling.

This was so stupid. You knew all of it was so stupid. You could just buy new clothes. But seeing how small your clothes had gotten made you feel hideous and bloated and unattractive. It made you hate yourself.

“Kitten?”

A familiar voice drifted through your bedroom door. You quickly reached for one of your boyfriend’s sweaters he left behind the last time he was over, a soft, cashmere pullover that used to at one point hang loosely off your body. 

“In here, Sy,” you called out, covering yourself as fast as you could, ashamed to let him see you like this. You suspected he knew something wasn’t quite right, especially because the last time the two of you were intimate, you insisted on turning off the lights. He didn’t push though because that’s what he did. He always waited for you to tell him when you were ready.

Sylus poked his head into your bedroom, his silver hair brushing against the top of the door frame. His brilliantly vibrant, crimson eyes brightened when they saw you, but wavered when they noticed how red your eyes were and what appeared to be the remnants of a scowl on your brow. “Kitten, are you all right?” he asked, his concern for you obvious. 

You weakly smiled at him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m fine.” You took a deep, shuddering breath in, kicking yourself for how poorly you were hiding how shitty you felt, especially when you saw Sylus’s eyebrows pull together. “Really, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine to me.” Sylus leaned forward until he was level with you, tenderly placing a palm against your cheek. 

You involuntarily pulled back a hair at his touch, eyes averted towards the ground. “Nothing, really. I’m fine.”

His frown deepened, especially when you pulled away from his touch. He peered at you intently, his crimson orbs searching for a sign of why you were so upset. “Sweetie, did I do something wrong? Because if I did, I–” “No!” You sighed, roughly yanking your fingers through your hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that I… I…” You trailed off, feeling ashamed at why you were so upset, at having to voice what was upsetting you. You could feel Sylus looking at you, that warm, sweet, concerned gaze of his that made you feel warm and fuzzy. But right now, all it did was make you feel more shame, more self-loathing.

“Sweetie?” His thumb wiped away the tear that fell from your eye. 

God, you loved him when he was this sweet. You hugged yourself tighter, intrusive thoughts running through your head whispering that he would be repulsed by the change in your body, that he would fall out of love with you, that he would leave you if he knew, that he would find someone slimmer and more attractive than you.

“My–” You licked your lips, blinking to keep more tears from falling. “My clothes don’t fit anymore,” you whispered in the tiniest voice you could muster while still remaining audible. 

“Oh,” Sylus quietly uttered.

“I– I look awful,” you hoarsely whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. As the tears began to fall, you buried your face in your hands, unwilling to let him see you ugly cry, snot running and all.

“Kitten…” Strong, but tender hands gently moved yours out of the way allowing him to wipe away your tears. “Kitten, look at me.”

You reluctantly raised your head, flinching at how much he was taking in. He grasped your chin, and very gently leaned in to graze his lips against yours. You melted, desiring the comfort of his warm embrace. Your anxiety spiked when he pulled away.

“You’re beautiful.”

You frowned at him. “No, I’m not. I’m ugly, and you’re going to want someone younger and prettier and skinnier than me.” Sylus clicked his tongue, displeased at how quickly you dismissed his compliment. He spun you around so that your back was against his chest and the two of you were facing the mirror. He placed his hands on your shoulders, bringing his lips close to your ear. “To me, you are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he asserted, staring straight into your eyes in the mirror. “And I will not have you disparaging her. If you don’t believe me, then I will have to show you just how beautiful I think you are.”

A delicious tingle ran up your spine when he placed a wet kiss behind your ear. 

“I don’t care what size you are..”

Another tingle when he nipped your artery.

“You are the only woman for me.”

His hands slid under the sweater you were wearing, the friction of his calloused palms hot against your soft skin starting a smoldering fire deep within you.

“And I will never, ever let you forget it.”

His hands were kneading your soft flesh, the ragged breaths he was expelling erotic in your ear while his mouth feasted on your neck. You found yourself melting into his embrace, relishing the way he grabbed at you, feeling his bulge press into your back.

“I want you to see how much I love you.”

Sylus tugged his sweater off of you, throwing it behind him and bringing you back into his arms quickly. You instinctively raised your arms to cover yourself, but Sylus caught your wrists before you could. 

“Don’t. I want to see all of you.”

Your nose wrinkled at your reflection, at the imperfections you wished didn’t exist. You yelped when Sylus roughly bit down on your shoulder. 

“Kitten, I said none of that now.”

Sylus hooked his fingers into your underwear and pulled them down, taking his time, grazing his fingertips along your leg as he did so. You squirmed at how exposed you felt, seeing yourself on display both in the mirror and in his hungry, heated eyes. He squeezed your breasts.

“This is mine.”

You gasped as his hand slipped between your legs, stroking your slit from front to back, slipping a finger in. Your body involuntarily clamped down onto his finger. He trailed kisses along your shoulder, wrapping his free arm around your waist so that you were tightly flush along his back while his finger curled inside you. You threw your head back onto his shoulder, eyes closed, your chest heaving faster. 

“This deliciously wet pussy is mine.”

You felt Sylus shift behind you, the arm around you momentarily disengaging so he could release his erection. 

“This gorgeous body is mine.”

After sliding his length against your folds to lubricate himself in your slick, he slid in, taking his time burying himself fully in your warmth. The breathy moan falling off your lips caused Sylus to feverishly groan. Sylus moved against you slowly, enjoying the way your walls dragged along his shaft. Your eyes flickered to the sight of your union in the mirror. You could see the flush spread on your boyfriend’s face, the drunk look of pleasure glazing over his eyes. He looked positively intoxicated by you. 

Sylus noticed you watching him in the mirror. Breathing heavily, he nuzzled his nose into your hair. “I love you,” he murmured, tickling the spot where his lips rested. “I will always love you, no matter what because you are beautiful. Inside and out. Your size doesn’t dictate that. Do you understand me?”

You felt the prickle of tears along your eyelids again, but this time it was because of how adoringly Sylus cradled you in his arms, at how safe he made you feel, at how much his love for you felt like a gentle, spring rain on your heart. You nodded, unsure whether you could speak without erupting into full-blown tears.

“Now, kitten, let’s see how long you can last with my dick inside you.” You shivered, anticipation fluttering down your back, knowing you wouldn’t last very long. That devilish smirk he flashed was going to be the death of you, but you didn’t mind because he was your Sylus and you were his kitten, and that was all you needed in this world.

[missaengg]

Caught Red-Handed

Day 6 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptations hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Zayne x f!reader Tags: mdni, shameless smut, face fucking, rough oral sex, rough sex, spanking, punishment/discipline, vaginal sex, creampie Prompts: Discipline/Punishment | "You know what happens when you do that." A/N: Decided to combine the prompt list hosted by @natimiles, @valkyyriia, and @candied-boys found here with the dialogue prompt list hosted by @xxsycamore found here. Zayne is OOC for this fic, but the prompts made me think of MC stealing Zayne's macarons and thus this fic was born. Enjoy! ao3 link here.

“You know what happens when you do that.”

A deep, stern voice cuts through the darkness. You freeze, flinching when the light flickers on and catches you hunched over in the act of sneaking towards the fridge.

“I told you the macarons were for tomorrow.” He steps closer, closing the distance between where you’re standing and the kitchen entrance. “I told you what would happen if you don’t listen to me.”

You straighten your posture, plastering a giant, fawning smile on your face. “I wasn’t going for the macarons!”

He arches an eyebrow at your blatant lie, and in a silky tone asks, “And that’s why were you sneaking through the kitchen in the dark?”

“I was thirsty. I wanted to get something to drink.”

“Mmhmm…” Zayne hums, taking another step closer. “And that’s why you were hunched over like a cat burglar?”

“I– I–” you stammer, eyes darting about the kitchen for an excuse, any excuse you could use to throw him off the scent.

Zayne reaches you, and you scuffle back trying to leave some space between the two of you, jumping when your back hits the fridge with nowhere to run. “Admit it, darling. You were going for my special, gourmet, blueberry macarons that I was saving for tomorrow.”

You gulp, the flinty glint in Zayne’s eye pinning you even further back onto the solid appliance behind you. “I– I wasn’t. I swear,” you sputter quickly, but you can tell he isn’t buying it.

He traces his finger down your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Do I need to punish you? For disobeying me? For lying?” He gathers both of your wrists, pinning them in place above your head, leaving you vulnerable to him. Leaning on his other forearm against the fridge, he towers over you intimidatingly, his tall, broad stature swamping your much shorter frame.

“No?” you squeak out, shivering at the absolute carnal heat in Zayne’s stare.

The corner of his mouth pops up at your shivering body, relishing the fear flooding your face. “Too late, darling. I think I need to remind you what happens when you disobey me.” His hands graze down to your collarbone, resting dangerously above your heaving chest.

You’re suddenly hyper aware of the fact you’re not wearing a bra under a fairly thin shirt that will do absolutely nothing to hide the effect Zayne’s having on you, and when an ominous, smug smirk crosses his face, you realize that he’s most definitely noticed the way your body’s responding to him.

“Oh? Does your body remember? Or maybe…” he traces the outline of your breast coming dangerously close to the small bump peeking through your shirt without touching it, “…maybe you enjoy it when I punish you.”

“I– I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper hoarsely, swallowing thickly. You’re trembling, and if it wasn’t for the way your nipples poked through your shirt, it would be easy to assume you were trembling from fear, not anticipation. But not Zayne. Zayne knows you too well. He knows when you’re trembling in fear and when you’re trembling in excitement.

“Hm.” Zayne’s large hand roughly squeezes your breast in his palm, just hard enough to let you know he means business. “Still lying to me.”

“I’m not— I’m not—” you stutter as Zayne pinches your nipple, hard, a hiss instinctively escaping you at the sudden pain. You debate whether you’ve come too far to admit to lying about the macarons, about lying to him, and about savoring the way he manhandled you when he pushed you, but the pain and resulting pleasure muddles your brain making it difficult to think.

“Darling, if you come clean, I’m willing to be lenient with you.”

“I–” you begin, but the way Zayne is roughing you up is sending delicious tingles down your spine, pooling into an electrifying puddle in your core demanding more. You wonder just how much harder he would go if you refuse to acquiesce. “I’m not lying.”

“I see.” You can see the displeasure that settles on Zayne’s forehead breaking his usual stoic nature, but underneath the displeasure rumbles a feral hunger, one that would devour you if you both were to allow it. “Naughty girl, I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

He kisses you forcefully, demanding entry, claiming your tongue. You eagerly follow, the thrill of his dominance over you bringing forth a neediness in you, a desire to be consumed. His kisses are relentless waves, crashing down on your lips without any room to breathe or gather your bearings. The growing throb between your legs aches with a ferocity, and your aching cunt grinds against him, delighting in the bulge that’s developed in his plants. You jerk back into the fridge abruptly when Zayne bites down savagely on your bottom lip.

“Not yet. You don’t get to cum until I say you can cum. Do you understand me?” The steely frown Zayne is giving you steals the oxygen from your lungs, your breath catching in your throat as he stares you down with his sharp hazel green eyes. “Darling, do you understand me?”

You weakly nod, but the frown on Zayne’s face deepens.

“Tell me you understand me.” He waits until you utter a simple ‘yes’ in reply, and then releases your arms, pushing you down to your knees. Zayne undoes his belt and pants, shoving them to the floor into a pool around his ankles, his erection springing free in your face.

You can’t help, but stare at it standing prominent and proud against his lower stomach, the tip leaking a single glistening bead his underwear wasn’t able to wick away. Your mouth parts involuntarily, your tongue darting out and running along your lips at the sight before you.

Zayne has his hand over his erection, sliding up and down the shaft. “Open,” he commands, and as you do so, he grabs the back of your head, guiding it to his cock. “Take it.”

You place your mouth over the tip, the tip alone filling your mouth. Zayne twitches, a harsh grunt escaping him at the way your lips close over him, enveloping him in the warmth of your mouth. Galvanized by his reaction, you suck down, but yelp when Zayne snaps your head back by your hair.

“Not tonight.”

Tears sting your eyes from the prickle of pain on your scalp, but you understand when your eyes meet his, and you see the cloud of ravenous lust hanging in them. Zayne tangles his fingers in your hair, gripping tightly to the point you’re sure he’s pulled out at least several strands. Sparing you no mercy, he thrusts into your mouth forcing your jaw open wider to take his sizable girth. His pace is furious, using the back of your head to slam mercilessly down your throat with each pump. You grip his thighs wretchedly, focusing on trying not to choke, tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill over.

“Good girl, taking your punishment so well,” Zayne purrs in between guttural grunts. “Is that why you disobeyed me? You wanted me to punish you?”

Your tears finally spill over, dripping down and mixing with the frothy saliva covering his dick, the sight of which only encourages Zayne to fuck your mouth with more zeal. You whimper around his cock, his fingers tangled in your hair in a vice grip, holding your head in place for his feverish rutting.

“What’s that, darling? You want more?”

You look up at him through tear-soaked lashes, your hooded eyes begging for him to touch you. A lecherous, predatory leer flashes across his face. Your mouth is on fire, but you can barely feel the pain so enraptured by the brutality of his dick driving in and out of your drooling mouth and the feverish heat settling in your throbbing cunt desperate for him to brutalize you there once he was done using your mouth.

“Heh…” Zayne somehow picks up the pace, going even faster than he was previously, if that was even possible. “I’m going to cum, and you’re going to swallow every last drop. Do you hear me?”

He’s buried deep down your throat when he states his intention to cum, and your nose brushes the locks of dark, curly hair at his hilt as you nod. He pumps furiously. Once. Twice. Three times, and then he bursts, spurts of hot cum shooting into the back of your throat rapidly. His cum is exiting so quickly you struggle to keep up, choking down his load in your attempts to swallow.

“Good girl,” Zayne pants, holding your head prisoner deep on his cock while it pulsates in your mouth. “Take it all.”

He only releases you when his cock stops pulsing, pulling you off of him. You can only sit there dazed, cockdrunk, staring up at him with hooded lids. You imagine the filthy mess you must look, drool and cum smeared across your lips, dripping down your chin, hair tangled from Zayne’s fingers, eyes red and swollen.

“Aw, spent already?” he coos wiping away the remnants of his fucking off the corner of your lip with a sick, sinister sneer. “Well, too bad, darling because I’m not quite done with you yet. Strip.”

Your hands move before your brain processes what Zayne’s said to you, clutching the hem of your shirt and pulling it off over your head.

“Faster,” Zayne barks.

You’re trembling so hard your fingers fumble with difficulty undoing the buttons and zipper of your pants. Zayne growls ferociously, his patience wearing thin, and forcing you onto all fours, rips off the last articles of clothing covering your body. You hear Zayne rustling behind you, his breaths thick and heavy in the otherwise quiet kitchen. You’re helplessly naked on all fours on his cold kitchen tile, legs spread apart giving Zayne an obscene view of your sopping cunt, slick with how much you want him.

You can feel him kneel into position, and after a brief pause, you jolt with a start at the heavy thwack raining down on your ass. You sharply exhale, your knees buckling from the biting, lingering pain.

“Disregarding doctor’s orders.”

Thwack.

“Lying to me.”

Thwack.

“Shall I go on?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the sobs rising in your throat, but another biting smack releases the cries you’re holding back.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

You pitifully nod, shaking from the pain radiating up your back and down your legs. From past experience you know your ass is colored a brilliant hue of bright red, and you know what will come next, a filthy, merciless pummeling of your slutty little cunt.

Zayne peers at you, his dark, narrowed eyes appraising you carefully. “No, I don’t think you have.”

He seizes the sides of your hips, and without warning, Zayne plunges deep into you. You let out a strangled cry at the sudden intrusion and sharp pain as his hefty dick callously sinks into you, dropping to your elbows.

“Za– Zayne,” you gasp, your hands clawing at the tiled floor with nothing to hold onto.

Zayne fucks into you ruthlessly, his fingernails digging into the sides of your hips drawing crescent-shaped lines of blood.

“Oh, fuck, Zayne,” you barely moan, the feel of him battering your cervix and dragging along your walls mixing pain with pleasure.

Zayne’s animalistic grunts alongside the torrid slaps of flesh on flesh fill your ears. He’s fucking into you with vehemency, driving into you so deep so quickly, it leaves you with no respite from his battering assault. Without missing a beat, Zayne hauls you until you’re upright and bouncing on Zayne’s lap, one arm wrapped around your waist and manhandling you on his cock, the other snaked around your chest with two of his fingers shoved in your mouth. You suckle on his digits, moaning around his knuckles, pussy clamping down on his rutting dick.

“Fuck,” Zayne groans at the sensation of your orifices tightening around him. “Such a… naughty girl.” His pace is growing erratic, a sign he’s ready to snap. “Cum for me. Say my name when you cum.”

The ferocity of your pussy clamping onto him is also a sign of your impending eruption. By this point, you’re seeing flashes of stars, the dull ache of his cock ramming against your cervix combined with jolts of white-hot electricity pushing you beyond your limits. “Zayne, I’m– I’m close.” He’s pushing deeper and deeper into you, harder and harder until you’re sure your folds will be just as bruised as your cervix inside. You’re wailing as each snap of his hips edges you closer to bliss as his hands roam and pinch at your flesh. Your head snaps back, and screaming his name, eyes rolling back into your head, you feel your walls pulsate in a frenzy.

Your shuddering ecstasy snaps the last shred of self-composure Zayne has, and he hurls himself into you releasing ribbons of his cum, each wave milked from his cock by your walls rippling along his shaft in a vice grip. Each wave fills you to the brim, the excess sliding down your thighs, hot and blistering on your skin. His hold on you relaxes, and you slide to the floor, not having the strength to support yourself without Zayne’s help.

The cold of the tile seeps into your back as you lay there panting shallowly, eyes half-closed, Zayne’s cum leaking out of your stretched, gaping hole and down your ass in surges. Zayne chuckles from above taking in your used form – battered, bruised, abused – and presses a bruising kiss to your lips.

“I hope you learned your lesson, darling.”

You nod, only half hearing him in your exhausted blissed-out daze.

“You won’t steal my macarons again in the future, will you?”

“No,” you whisper.

“Good girl.”

A sudden chill blows over you when Zayne opens the refrigerator door, illuminating how flushed you still felt from Zayne’s ravenous activities. He rummages for a moment before snapping the door shut, and something cold presses against your lips. You open your mouth without thinking, allowing him to shove something in. Chewing, you note the delicate crunchy texture and the taste of sweet blueberry on your tongue.

“You took me so well, I’m giving you a reward,” Zayne purrs silkily, smoothing your hair back and watching you eat his macaron. “Say thank you, Zayne.”

“Thank you, Zayne.”

Zayne brusquely captures your lips, stealing some of your reward still present in your mouth, and dragging his tongue along the trails left by your tears, he murmurs, “That’s my good girl.”

[missaengg]

Beg For Me

Day 19 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, begging, oral sex, orgasm denial, restraints/light bondage, dom reader, sub Rafayel Prompts: Begging | “I thought this is what you wanted?” A/N: Didn't think I'd get around to this today, but I somehow managed to pull this out of my ass. Warning, this has not been edited, apologies for any errors! ao3 link here.

Rafayel was sinfully groaning, a delectable red flush glowing on his soft, supple cheeks. He trembled, the tongue running up his shaft having him pull at the Evol-blocking handcuffs restraining him to the headboard of his plush, luxurious bed.

“Cutie, I need to… I need to…” He moaned pathetically, as you swirled your tongue on just the tip of his swollen cock. “Let me finish inside of you.”

You sucked up, and he slipped out of your mouth with a resounding ‘pop’. “You forgot the magic word,” you tutted, wrinkles forming between your brows. 

“Please… please let me finish inside of you.”

The ache he felt was clear in the breathy timbre of his whining mewl. Pursing your lips, you feigned being deep in thought, the vision of Rafayel splayed on his bed just too enticing to stop.

“But darling… I thought this is what you wanted?” 

This was true. Just last week, Rafayel had discovered that your handcuffs blocked the wearer’s Evol, and he had insisted that you use it sometime in bed with him, though you were sure he meant using it on you, not on him.

“On you! Not–” Rafayel’s breath hitched as you took him in your mouth again. “Not to torture… hah… torture me!”

You gave his tiny slit a sultry lick, tasting the hint of his salty pre-cum still leaking despite your endless teasing. “Hm… naughty.”

“Baby… baby, please, it’s been like an hour…” Rafayel looked at you imploringly, his puppy dog, purple eyes pleading with you to end his agonizing frustration. “Please… cutie… I’ll do anything, anything… just a taste.”

You wickedly grinned, nibbling up his shaft while your hand rubbed circles on his raw, overstimulated tip. “Anything?”

“Anything!” A shudder ran through Rafayel’s body when he felt your teeth very lightly grazing where he was especially tender. “Let me fuck you, please.”

You sank your teeth into him, just enough to send a jolt of electrifying pain up his back. “Language, Raf.”

Rafayel growled, the full extent of his pent-up frustration rumbling through his throat, a feral, desperate demonstration of his displeasure. He violently bucked his hips into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag.

You sat back on your heels, the sudden departure of your mouth leaving Rafayel to whimper in agony. You tsked, slowly shaking your head back and forth.

“Bad, bad boy.” 

With a dangerous, cheeky, taunting smile, you pulled down your underwear, making sure you trailed your fingers along your legs as you removed the flimsy piece of fabric, delighting in the way Rafayel’s eyes bulged out of their sockets as your glistening cunt came into view.

“Yes… yes, cutie, just a… a taste,” Rafayel croaked, practically drooling as his eyes took in the scrumptious meal before him.

“Just a taste,” you purred, and sunk down onto his twitching cock, all the way down until he was fully buried within your folds. “You like that?”

Rafayel eagerly nodded, closing his eyes and groaning as your walls enveloped him in their warm embrace. “Yes, baby… ngh… you feel, feel so good.”

“Hm… it’s too bad I have to punish you for choking me with your filthy cock.”

You had to suppress the rising giggle tickling your throat, the sight of Rafayel’s eyes snapping open in fear too adorable.

“No, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” Rafayel babbled. “Please don’t punish me, I’ll do anything, anything you want, just please don’t torture me anymore.”

With a hum, you reached for your phone on the nightstand and sat upright, keeping Rafayel pinned between your legs.

“Baby… cutie…” Rafayel’s cock twitched furiously.

You ignored him, focusing only on the phone in your hand.

“Babyyyyy, you’re so mean.”

You shook your head, giving him that look, the one where you meant business, quieting Rafayel’s protests to a feeble whimper.

“No, darling. I want you to lay there and think about what you did, and maybe, maybe I’ll let you play with me.”

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing at the absolutely devastated look that crossed Rafayel’s face.

[missaengg]

Servicing Lord Sukuna

Day 31 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Jujutsu Kaisen | Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, Lord Sukuna, servant reader, Sukuna has two cocks, p in v sex, anal sex Prompts: Non-human characters/traits A/N: Part 2 to Massaging Lord Sukuna found here! ao3 link here.

“I won’t be done with you until morning.” 

You freeze, Lord Sukuna’s hand still gripped around your arm, the feeling of his breath still hot on your ear. His eyes bore into you, pinning you in place with their sheer intensity, and he grins dangerously. You swallow thickly. His expression is reminiscent of a predator who’s cornered its prey, and there’s no mistaking the ravenous hunger darkening his gaze. He is the hungry predator, and you are his helpless prey.

You’ve heard Lord Sukuna eats humans as all Curses did, but surely the King of Curses wouldn’t eat his own servants? Would he?

It isn’t fair. You’ve pleased your Lord. He’s praised your efforts, but he’s staring at you as if he wants to devour you whole, and while some of the servants under his rule have disappeared without a trace, it can’t possibly be because he’s eaten them… Can it?

“M–m–my lord?!” you sputter.

“Tell me, little one. You’ve never been with a man before, have you?”

What does having been with a man matter when it comes to how you’ll taste? Unless…

“No– No, my Lord.” You throw your shaking body to the ground because maybe… maybe if you remain compliant, he’ll spare your life.

Sukuna hooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes, and before you can stop them, they’re spilling down your cheeks.

“Plea— Please don’t eat me, my Lord,” you plead. “I’ll do– do better– I’ll work twi– twice as hard– I’ll–”

You’re babbling, begging him to reconsider because you know you can be an asset to your Lord if he’ll just give you a second chance, if he’ll just allow you to prove your worth.

“Hm?” Sukuna frowns and then breaks into raucous laughter as if he’s amused by your frantic prostrating. “Oh, I plan to devour you, brat. But not in the way you think.”

You gape at your Lord. You don’t understand what he’s saying. Is there more than one way to devour a human being?

“Your clothes have gotten quite soiled, little one. So unfitting for your King,” he purrs, his voice low and silky.

Lord Sukuna traces the outline of where your yukata parts, his long, sharp nails lightly scratching the skin underneath – his nails are so deadly, it would be more appropriate to call them claws. You should feel frightened by how they’re one whim away from gouging your delicate human flesh, but instead you shiver, the sparks flying in their wake confounding, yet thrilling. 

“Be a good girl and strip,” he commands.

Oh, he doesn’t mean devour as in food, but devour as in…

Your cheeks burn, the meaning of his words finally dawning on you. You’re relieved you won’t be losing your life, but also embarrassed because how naive and silly Lord Sukuna must think you are… 

“Forgive me, my Lord.” You scramble to remove your clothing, peeling off your drenched yukata as well as your underclothes and kneel before him as bare as the day you were born.

“Good girl.” Lord Sukuna gestures for you to join him. “Come here.”

You crawl to where Lord Sukuna lounges upon his futon following his beckoning hand until you’re seated on his lap. Something firm is nestled beneath you, and you realize with a start that it’s Lord Sukuna’s erection, still solid despite bringing him to climax just moments ago.

“Do you still wish to please your Lord?” he coos into your ear.

“Yes, my Lord,” you whisper.

“Good.”

His arm snakes around your waist, pressing you close into his impressive chest, and before you can process what’s happening, his searing lips are brutally crushing yours with a demanding ferocity. You gasp in surprise, and as your lips part, his tongue darts in, entwining harshly with your tongue, almost as if he’s trying to swallow you whole.

There’s nothing gentle about his kiss. You always assumed your first kiss would be tender, yet passionate like in the stories, but his bruising lips feel even better than any kiss you’ve previously imagined. 

He holds you so tightly you can barely breathe, what little air you can suck in being stolen by his greedy inhales, and you burn in his embrace. His body is scorching, and you find yourself lost in his blistering heat, ravaged by the flickering flames.

His hand squeezes your breast, his fingers pinching your pert nipple, and you jolt, sparks tingling from where he’s pinching and prodding your heaving chest. You barely notice his lips leaving yours and moving down your neck so consumed by the delicious ministrations of his hands, you’re shocked when he bites down without warning. 

You yelp. It stings where his teeth have viciously sunk in, but you find yourself relishing the pain, growing even more feverish from the radiating pain. Lord Sukuna soothes the mark with his tongue only to bite down again, leaving yet another blemish on the canvas of your skin.

He repeats himself, biting and soothing, locking you in a cycle of pain and pleasure. While you’ve never been one to associate one with the other, the combination has you losing your mind, and you pathetically whimper, putty in his roaming hands.

Lord Sukuna chuckles, the throaty vibrations sultry and smooth rumbling through his broad chest and rippling through your flushed body. “You like being marked by your Lord?”

“Y–yes,” you whisper, clinging to his shoulders.

You’ve lost count of how many times your Lord has sunk his teeth into your flesh, the swirl of affliction and bliss melding together until you can’t decipher one from the other.

Something swells beneath you, the hard tip of which pokes between your cheeks, and an involuntary gasp leaves your lips because it can only be one thing. Lord Sukuna’s… member is already so big, it can’t possibly get any bigger! You can’t imagine how he’d fit as it is!

“M–my Lord?”

Lord Sukuna pauses from biting your shoulder, noting the questioning fear wavering in your eyes. He smirks diabolically, clearly entertained. “Did you not know I had a second cock?”

His second…? You gasp again, your mouth hanging open and your eyes wide. What does he mean two? You barely know what to do with the one!

Lord Sukuna shifts, hauling you off his lap until the tips of both his monstrous cocks are positioned by both of your entrances. “Such a good brat, so wet for your Lord.” He’s sneering at you, delighting in your innocent distress.

You look straight into his devilish eyes, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. He’s so massive you’re certain he’ll break you in two when he enters, but you know you have to try. You have to try for your Lord.

“I will do whatever it takes to please you, my Lord,” you say in a shaky whisper.

Lord Sukuna hums in satisfaction, and both his appendages are pushing into you before you can blink. You almost faint, tears welling in your eyes. A strangled cry rips from your throat.

While your cunt sucks him in, your ass struggles to reject him, the muscles clenching securely together around the head. Lord Sukuna hisses, but he savagely drives in, bullying his thick second cock through the puckered opening until both of his cocks are nestled deep in your abdomen.

You cry – fat, heavy tears rolling down your spluttering cheeks and splashing on your Lord’s torso. You feel as though you’re being ripped apart, stretched to your absolute limits. You’re fluttering around both of his shafts, and you hear your Lord groan, his grip on your hips digging in until his nails have drawn blood.

“Tight… so fucking tight…”

You barely register the ragged agony of his hoarse grunts. You struggle to adjust to the sensation of feeling stuffed, the feeling of your organs rearranging themselves to fit both his cocks. The pain subsides, and it’s replaced by a thrumming ecstasy humming through your veins. Lord Sukuna has yet to move, but you’re already moaning, lightly rocking your hips back and forth on his lap.

“Be still, brat,” Lord Sukuna snarls.

You can’t stop. You can feel his shafts pressing together between your thin walls, and the friction of them sliding together, sliding against you is unbearable. You need to feel more.

You rock harder. Electricity buzzes through your bothered body, and you’re swept up in the irresistible lust of exhilarating ecstasy. The other ladies have always made being with a man sound so sinfully pleasant, but this… You let out a long, drawn-out groan. This is just heavenly.

“Lord Sukuna…” you lewdly moan. “Please…”

You’re barely moving on his lap, and you’re aching for more…

Lord Sukuna growls as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, the heady pain intermingling with the juddering electric tingles careening through your center. He re-positions his hands so he’s grasping your ass, and then he thrusts sharply bouncing you up and down on his lap.

He slams into you fiercely, and you see stars, overwhelmed by the white-hot heat sizzling up and down your spine, desperately mewling your Lord’s name.

“Lord Sukuna… Ngh… my Lord,” you cry out.

His hips are bucking into you at an inhuman speed, and you’re keening, practically frothing at the mouth, drool leaking from the corners of your lips.

You’ve never felt rapture like this before in your life.

“Fuck,” Lord Sukuna rasps, each word tumbling out of his mouth laced with a bite. “Such a good… fucking… brat.”

All the sensations… the sound of Lord Sukuna’s guttural grunts, the feel of his blistering body, the woody scent of his musk, the heat of his cocks… builds into an all-consuming, overpowering pressure.

Lord Sukuna’s teeth sink into you again, and as if a pin has poked a bursting balloon, you explode. You’re blinded by a vicious white light, violent tremors shuddering through your taut body.

One of your hands curls in his hair, yanking the strands wound in between your fingers, and your back arches, your breasts pressing into his firm chest, your closed eyes rising to the ceiling.

“Sukuna… Sukuna… Sukuna,” you passionately scream your Lord’s name so overcome you forget to add his title to his name, a crime punishable by death, but neither you nor your Lord realize the indecency of how you’re calling out his name.

Your screams throw Lord Sukuna into a frenzy, rutting into you even faster than his frightening pace before. 

“Goddamn… brat…”

You’re clamping down on him uncontrollably, and then you feel it… You feel his body tense under yours, and you feel spurt after spurt of his cum flooding into you, spraying your insides white and coating you with his seed. Relentless waves of his release fill every crevice and ridge, and with nowhere else to go, it spills out the sides, puddling beneath you in a torrential, sticky mess.

You slump forward, supporting yourself against his built shoulders, weakly shaking from the violence of your euphoric climax. You don’t have to see yourself to know your eyes are glazed over, your mind a muddled daze. 

Lord Sukuna gently lifts you from his lap and lays your worn out form on his futon in a manner uncharacteristic of his usual gruff demeanor. Your cloudy eyes droop half-closed. Your limp limbs quiver. You almost don’t notice him covering you with a light blanket or calling for Uraume because you’re far from lucid, so drained and spent you're barely clinging to the last shred of consciousness.

You don’t hear Uraume enter. You don’t move when Uraume lifts you in their arms. 

You’re quickly fading.

You close your eyes, surrendering to your exhaustion, but before the cloying tendrils of sleep can steal you away, Lord Sukuna’s command floats into your foggy mind. Your last thought before you drift away completely.

“Get her cleaned up and settled in the adjoining room. I think I’m going to enjoy this one.”

[missaengg]

Hello! I enjoy your fics featuring the LaDs men, especially Rafayel. Would you consider writing another with feral Rafayel? Everything is with the full consent of both parties, Rafayel is just urgently needy and difficult to satisfy. It could be another Ebb and Flow Day, where he desperately wants to feel and taste the MC. No matter your decision, thank you for opening asks and reading this. Please continue to write what you enjoy.

Hi!! Sorry I haven't been able to get back to you more quickly! I've had this idea in the works now and thought this might be a good fit for a feral Rafayel. Hope it satisfies~ If it doesn't, I have a few more fics planned for him 🤭

Missing You Pt. 2: Rafayel Comes Home

Pairing: Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, creampie, p in v sex, established relationship Word Count: 1783 Read Part One here. Rafayel's been away for three weeks on a tour, and he's finally come home. But he's missed you terribly. ao3 link here.

Your bedroom feels lonely.

Too lonely. 

Especially with Rafayel still gone on his tour. 

You sigh, rubbing lotion on your arms, the last step of your bedtime routine. You eye the dildo molded into the shape of Rafayel’s dick sitting on your nightstand. The one he gifted you almost two weeks ago. You debate whether you want it to lull you to sleep like it did last night, an almost nightly occurrence. You feel your cheeks color because of how dependent you’ve been on Little Rafayel since it arrived, but you miss your boyfriend terribly, and well… having this replica almost makes it feel like he’s with you… almost.

A pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, and you jump, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s late at night, and you’re home alone. A burglar? A murderer? A rapist? Your brain assumes the worst… 

Your Hunter training kicks in, and you sink your elbow into the intruder’s stomach feeling pleased when they groan in pain, but then freeze because you recognize the sound of the intruder’s voice and the scent of their cologne.

His cologne.

“Rafayel?!”

“Geez, now I remember why I made you my bodyguard,” Rafayel wheezes.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you come in,” you apologize, feeling terrible for how hard you hit him, but… “What were you thinking, sneaking up on me?”

“Hi, cutie,” he mumbles into your hair, simply holding you tighter against him. “Wanted to surprise you.”

You shake your head and sigh. After being apart for almost three weeks, you can’t stay mad at him. You’re just glad he’s returned. “When’d you get back?”

“Just now. Came straight here.”

You melt into his embrace. You’ve missed this so much. His warmth. His hugs. “Welcome back,” you murmur.

Rafayel nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I missed you.” He breathes you in deeply, almost as if he’s attempting to commit the smell of you to his memory.

He exhales just as deeply as he breathed in, and the long, puff of air hitting your neck tickles, feeling unnaturally hot on your skin. But when Rafayel presses his soft lips in a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, it burns even hotter in their wake.

“I missed you so… so much,” he hoarsely whispers.

His greedy hands roam your body with a needy urgency, mapping every ridge and crevice. They grab at your clothes, your flesh… your breasts. He kneads them under his palm, squeezing and massaging them together, sultry, breathy moans fluttering from his parted lips.

“Wait, Raf, I want to look at you. I haven’t seen you in three weeks,” you protest, pulling at his arms so you can turn around and face him, but Rafayel locks his arms, pulling you in so tight you’re suffocatingly snug against him. 

“Let me just… just taste you for a bit….” 

The sounds Rafayel’s making are downright erotic. Even without the sensation of his mouth on your neck and his hands on your breasts and your stomach, the noises coming out of his mouth alone are flooding your body with an unbearable, feverish heat.

“I missed your body so much.” Rafayel pants heavily, expelling low, throbbing groans that tingle down your spine into your own throbbing desire. “I missed this. I missed you.”

Your breath hitches when he pinches your nipple and aggressively thrusts his hand between your legs, rubbing his open palm back and forth against your clothed sex. Both his arms are entwined around your chest and between the apex of your legs effectively trapping you against his heaving chest.

“Raf, I missed you too, but–”

He interrupts you by grazing his teeth along the contour of your shoulder. The friction of his hands and his teeth on your body are overwhelming, and you can’t help, but tremble, your knees growing weak from the buzz of electricity coursing through your veins.

He slips the hand that’s been rubbing you under your nightshirt and into the waistband of your underwear, brushing his pointer past your clit and sliding in between your folds. He shivers when they feel how wet you are for him.

“Baby, you’re driving me crazy,” he croaks. “Been dreaming about this for weeks.”

Rafayel grinds the firm erection in his pants against your lower back, placing a sloppy kiss on your neck. He circles his slick finger around your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves in a series of short strokes of varying pressure. Light, firm, long, hard. All while his rock hard length drags up and down the small of your back.

You breathlessly whimper, each stroke of his sinful finger shooting a dazzling spark deep through your center.

“Raf…” you rasp, reeling when a particularly firm pass causes your vision to flash white. 

“Gotta… gotta feel you… gotta…” Rafayel babbles, and it’s obvious how much pain he’s in from the strain in his nonsensical rambling. “Wanna be… inside… be inside… fuck… gotta…”

He lets out an agitated, strangled cry, and before your dazed mind can process what he’s doing, he’s pushed you up against the wall, caging you in, hiking your nightshirt up around your waist, tugging your underwear down mid-thigh, fumbling to pull his own bottoms down with a single hand. Just enough to grant him access.

You brace yourself on the wall with your palms.

Rafayel plunges in, letting out the most delicious guttural groan as he stretches you open with the entirety of his length. 

“Fuck, Raf,” you keen, unable to bite back the throaty moans tumbling from your mouth.

“Still think Little Rafayel is bigger than me?” he snickers.

You feel yourself clench around his shaft stuffing you past the point of being full, and you realize you were wrong. So very wrong. Rafayel didn’t embellish Little Rafayel at all. If anything, Little Rafayel is an underestimation of him.

“I was– was wrong,” you whimper. “You’re so much– so much bigger.”

You can’t see Rafayel’s face, but you just know he’s smirking in an infuriating ‘I-Told-You-So’ manner. “Need to punish you for thinking… thinking so little of me.”

He snaps his hips against you hard, and you cry out as his bulbous head slams into your cervix, pain and pleasure spreading through your flushed, quivering body. You feel Rafayel shudder, and he stumbles a step forward so you’re flush against the wall and he’s flush against you, driving deeper into you.

You arch your back, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder, and Rafayel nestles his cheek in your hair. He moves his hips in shallow undulations, so shallow his tip drags on your cervix with no reprieve. 

“Three weeks,” he husks achingly in your ear. “Three weeks without feeling your sweet, little cunt.” His shaky breaths wisp against your earlobe. “Did your sweet, little cunt miss me?”

Your heart thrums from the longing pulsing in his voice, the same longing you yourself have felt over the agonizing weeks he was gone. “I slept with Little Rafayel every night–” Rafayel makes an adorable, indignant noise, so adorable your heart beats faster and you smile, “–but it’s just not the same. It can’t replace you. It can’t replace falling asleep in your arms.”

“God, I love you,” Rafayel slurs.

Your words must’ve unlocked something primal within him because he rocks his hips, thrusting with passionate need as if he’ll die if he can’t have you right this very second. There’s an agonizing frenzy to his lunging, a frenetic desperation to feel you, taste you, take you.

You push your hips back to meet him, and together, you roll your hips against one another, the yearning you both felt conveyed without words in the way your bodies seek out the other. Just as he desires to have all of you, you desire to have all of him, and your bodies meld together into one.

His ragged gasps feed the delirium swelling in your lower body, ebbing and flowing in waves. Crashing over you. Muddling all your senses. 

“Raf…” you plead.

Rafayel understands what you’re asking immediately, and he drives into you with a new sense of urgency. “Baby, come… come for me,” he croons. “Missed your… your sweet voice… Wantcha to… to sing for me.” 

His voice cracks on the last word he utters, severing the last shred of your composure. A final, roiling wave overtakes you, pulling you under, and you’re tumbling, caught in the throes of its turbulence. Spinning. Drowning. Unable to tell up from down.

You can’t breathe. 

You can only helplessly call out his name.

Your body reacts beyond your control, and as you pulsate erratically around the entirety of Rafayel’s length, he breaks, spilling into you with uncontrolled ferocity. Painting you with weeks of pent-up frustration. Weeks of being away from you.

Your knees buckle, but Rafayel wraps you into his embrace, saving you from crumpling to the floor.

“Raf, I want to see you,” you whine, and Rafayel chuckles, relaxing his hold just enough for you to turn around.

But before you can even look at him, his lips are claiming yours in a deep, tender kiss threatening to turn your legs into jelly once more, and you’re melting in his arms again, your heart feeling as though it might burst. 

He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, grazing the tip of your nose with his.

You can finally gaze into his eyes, and you’re blown away by how he just looks at you, his deep violet eyes dark with desire, love, and lust. For you.

 “I’m never leaving you for this long again,” he murmurs. “Almost killed me.”

He kisses you again, tracing your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, gently prodding at the crevice between your lips begging for entrance. You accede, parting your lips for him to slip in. In one swift movement without breaking the kiss, he picks you up, cradling you against his chest, and the next thing you know, you’re falling on your bed, Rafayel hovering over you.

“Three weeks, baby. Three weeks.” He slides his hand up your leg, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone. “Gotta make up for… three weeks.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, gently scratching the back of his head and running his hair through your fingers. “I’m off tomorrow,” you whisper.

Rafayel utters a heady groan, and he’s sweeping you up in another dizzying kiss stealing your breath away. “Never again…” he says in between kisses. “Too long…”

You wrap your legs around his waist pulling him flush against you.

You know it’s going to be a long night, but you don’t mind. Not even a little. Not at all.

[missaengg]

An Innocent Question

Day 27 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Caleb x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, alternate universe - college, friends with benefits, cunnilingus, fingering, finger fucking, making out, p in v sex, caleb being a sexy little shit Prompts: Casual Sex/FWB | “Come here. I'll make it all better.” A/N: Yeee~ Finally wrote one for Caleb :) ao3 link here.

It started with an innocent question.

You were in Caleb’s dorm room, perched on his bed after you raced over the moment you finished moving in.

“Hey, Caleb, is it true that the average penis is between five and six inches long?”

You’d read that somewhere on the internet, and who better than Caleb, a man with a penis himself, to answer the question?

Caleb choked on his drink, spraying soda on his dorm room carpet that had definitely seen better days. “Pipsqueak, did ya just ask me about penises?”

“Yeah, I read it somewhere on the internet, and I was wondering if it was true.” You nonchalantly shrugged, confused as to why he was making such a big deal out of your question. “I mean, you have a penis, you should know, right?”

Caleb looked at you like you’d lost your goddamn mind. It was unnerving… how he was just staring at you without uttering a single word.

“You don’t have to be so weird about it,” you huffed.

“I’m not being– Pipsqueak, why’re ya asking me about penises?” Caleb asked, still eyeing you strangely.

“Six inches just seems like a lot, that’s all,” you said annoyed. “Whatever, forget I said anything.”

Caleb was still eyeing you with that strange look in his eyes when his expression shifted, a sudden thought dawning on him. “Pipsqueak, are ya a virgin?” he asked incredulously.

Of course he made it sound like it was this horrible thing to be one.

“N–no!” you blurted out, your cheeks burning.

Technically, you weren’t. A virgin, that is. You had a high school boyfriend who was your first and only experience in that realm, but the two of you had been inexperienced teenagers fumbling your way through the mechanics of sex, and well… it had been underwhelming to put it nicely. You’d always heard how fun sex could be, but you’d never experienced it yourself, and you were curious about how it might feel with someone different… someone more experienced… maybe even someone like Caleb…

Caleb smirked, and you felt your blood freeze in your veins because you knew that smirk. You knew it all too well. It was the shit-eating grin he’d get when he was about to ruthlessly tease you… and he loved teasing you.

“Pipsqueak’s still a virgin, eh?”

“I am not a virgin, thank you very much. Not that I have to prove anything to you, asshole.”

“Mmhmm.”

Your blood pressure skyrocketed. Caleb had this way of just burrowing under your skin, and you knew… you knew you were playing into his hands, but the skepticism in his gaze had you steaming, and you wanted nothing more than to scratch the disbelief off his face.

“I had a boyfriend in high school, jerk face,” you snapped, “and not that it’s any of your business, but we had sex, okay?”

Caleb mockingly nodded, that stupid impish glint in his eye glittering at you dangerously. “And lemme guess, it was just the one time and ya never orgasmed?”

You snapped your mouth shut, pressing your lips into a thin, tight line, the retort you wanted to throw at him dying in your throat because he was right. You had nothing to say to that. 

“So I’m right,” Caleb sniggered, and you bristled at the infuriating sound.

You hated when he was able to see right through you and used it for his own sick enjoyment.

“Well, I dunno what to tell ya, Pipsqueak.” Caleb shrugged. “I dunno about other guys, but I’m definitely bigger than six inches.”

Your mouth dropped open. Six inches already seemed like a lot of dick, and you couldn’t imagine anyone being bigger than your ex-boyfriend who had been roughly around five, and that had seemed massive to you at the time.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you cringed when you couldn’t stop the next question tumbling out of your mouth.

“Can I see?”

Caleb’s eyes widened, shocked by your outrageous question. Hell, you shocked yourself asking something so ridiculous, but the next thing you knew, you found yourself splayed on top of Caleb’s extra-long twin size bed trembling violently while he obscenely licked away between your legs doing things with his tongue you never would’ve thought a tongue could do… never would’ve guessed he knew how to do.

Thrilling tingles were running up and down your back building into something you’d never felt before, a dizzying pressure of pleasure tightening in your stomach until you burst, and you shook uncontrollably against Caleb’s mouth suctioned to your bits, ecstasy rolling through you in torrid waves. 

“Thatta girl,” Caleb snickered. “Congrats on your first orgasm, Pipsqueak.”

You wanted to smack him. Or ask him to do that again. Or both. But you just laid there instead, flushed and spent, thinking about how much you’d been missing out in the sex department.

You and Caleb never spoke about what happened after you left. Not once.

But you thought about that night often, how explosive your climax had been from just his mouth, and if a mouth could make you feel so sinfully good, how much better would it be with an actual dick?

As the year progressed, you started dating, which wasn’t hard considering how desperate college boys were for female companionship, and while you didn’t go all the way with them, none of them came close to being able to pleasure you with their clumsy mouths the way Caleb did. They were too rough or too tentative. They used too much tongue or too much of their teeth. They ignored your sweet aching clit or stroked it with too broad of a touch.

Each tryst left you feeling more disappointed. Unsatisfied. Unfulfilled. And no matter how much you tried to relieve yourself of the pent-up frustration building between your legs using your own unpracticed fingers, you couldn’t. It just wasn’t the same.

Which was how you found yourself back in his room, a textbook in your hands, under the false pretenses of wanting his assistance with Biochemistry, one innuendo leading to another until your study session devolved into him shirtless, pinning you down on his narrow bed with his strong, muscular body.

The muscles on his back delightfully rippled under your palms, a stark reminder of how much he’d grown since he left for college. Caleb had always been athletic and toned, but this…?

His hungry lips crushed yours with deep, bruising kisses, his hot breath mingling with yours, sweeping you away in a cloud of his irresistible cologne. You were light headed and woozy, drowning in a sea of everything Caleb, and you wondered how it was possible for you to come undone so quickly from his kisses alone.

“Fuck, Pipsqueak, the things ya do to me,” he huskily groaned, and just the sound of the thready throb in his voice had electricity jolting down your spine and buzzing in your sex.

One large, calloused hand slipped under your shirt, roughly groping your soft breasts and tweaking your firm nipples, and the other trailed up your quivering thigh and under your skirt, deft fingers sliding into your slick opening and curling against a part of you that had you moaning shamelessly and seeing stars. 

He was kneading and pulling and pinching, and as you rocked your hips and arched your back, you thought it couldn’t just be Caleb who could make you feel this heavenly, surely there had to be someone out there who could make your body sing the way Caleb could?

The thought lingered in your mind afterwards for some time.

The next boy you dated felt promising. You weren’t his first girlfriend or his second or even his third. He was older than even Caleb, a senior mere months away from graduating with more experience in four years of college than you’d had in your entire life. He seemed kind and sweet, and he was… He was very sweet, but when you eagerly jumped into bed with him, desperate to feel what Caleb made you feel, you quickly realized he wasn’t very sweet at all. 

He didn’t quite know what to do with his hands or his tongue or his dick, often skipping the foreplay and jackhammering away until he finished without any regard to whether you had cum at all, and as he moaned away, you found yourself squinting at the ceiling wondering if it truly was just Caleb who could make you cum.

You ached. Your body craved release, and no one, not even yourself, was able to give it to you the way Caleb did with just his hands and his mouth. It was like you were addicted, and no matter who you sought out, it seemed as though they would never be good enough compared to his honeyed touch.

You squirmed sitting in his room, despondent at how disappointing your dating life had been. 

“So, how’s the boytoy?” Caleb asked, wiggling his eyebrows like the dumbass he was.

“Awful. We broke up.”

“Aww… why? He seemed nice.” 

You sighed, dejectedly twisting your hair around your fingers, relishing the sting of pain on your scalp when you twisted too hard. “The sex sucked.”

“Ew, Pipsqueak. I don’t need to hear about your sex life.”

“Caleb, you’ve eaten me out and fingered me twice already. I think that ship has sailed,” you stated, finding his response immature and silly.

“Just doesn’t feel right.”

“That… that doesn’t make any sense.” 

And it didn’t. It didn’t make any sense because this man had given you the most divine orgasms of your life and was grimacing at the thought of you having a sex life when the two of you had done practically everything, but actually fuck.

“Yea, I know.” He looked at you pointedly, something you couldn’t read flickering in his eyes. “I just don’t wanna hear about ya with other guys is all.”

You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure how to interpret what he just said, but you didn’t dwell on it too deeply. You were occupied with the thoughts of yet another failed quest in finding someone other than Caleb to make you feel rapturous joy and whether perhaps… you were the problem.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, twisting your hands together in your lap. “Hey, Caleb?”

“Yeah?”

“Why can’t anyone I date make me cum?”

Caleb observed you silently, the gears slowly turning in his head. “Is that why the sex sucked? Cause ya didn’t have an orgasm?”

“Yeah. The only person who’s been able to give me an orgasm is…” You swallowed thickly. “...is you.”

You whispered the last two words, your confession both humiliating and vulnerable because you didn’t know how Caleb would react. Would he mercilessly tease you like he always did? Or comfort you in a strange turn of events? Or would he… touch you again?

The silence was deafening.

You peeked at Caleb. He looked startled, frozen in place with his magical, immoral mouth hanging open. The tension hung in the air, heavy and palpable, and you waited with bated breath for him to react, to say or do something… anything…

Caleb broke into laughter, wild tremors shaking his stupid, sexy body, and you scowled, the irritation only Caleb could wrench from you bubbling to the surface. You opened your mouth to scathingly retaliate when Caleb wiped the tears from his eyes and cooed, “Aww… is my poor Pipsqueak frustrated? Come here. I’ll make it all better for ya.”

You wanted to vehemently refuse, but your body had a mind of its own, and you melted into Caleb’s embrace when he wrapped you in his arms because… well, who were you kidding really.

“I’m warning ya, though, Pipsqueak. Like I said, I’m bigger than six inches,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe.

You gulped, your heart beating madly in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come flooding you with a blistering heat…

And before you could even process what was happening, you were naked, bracing yourself against the wall, and he was bullying his fat cock into your dripping cunt – and you were dripping because his scent alone drove you insane – stretching you deliciously open, and you gasped because… because, fuck, his cock was just simply godlike.

He wasn’t joking when he said he was bigger than six inches. He was the biggest you’d ever had, and every time his tip kissed your cervix, you keened, your fingernails digging into the standard, white paint of the dorms.

He rutted into you brutally, his broad palm shoving your head into the wall, and your hips bucked back to slam into his because you needed him deeper… harder… 

“Shit, Pipsqueak, taking me so… well,” Caleb grunted, speaking erratically from the exertion. “Ya really…  really aren’t a virgin… are ya?”

“That’s what I’ve… fuck… been saying… you… hah… you asshole!”

Tears stung your eyes because this… this was what you had been searching for… what you craved… what you had been missing in your life.

You were on fire, searing flames blazing into an uncontrollable inferno, ravaging your poor body until there was nothing left and you were shuddering… spasming… pathetically mewling Caleb’s name in strangled sobs.

“Ah, fuck, I can’t— I–” Caleb sputtered, and for the first time, you saw him lose control, and he shouted, “Fuck!” before spilling ribbon after ribbon of his cum into your drooling, convulsing cunt.

It was the first time you’d let someone finish inside of you, and you felt his essence filling you to the brim, creeping out from around his dick and down your quavering inner thighs. Fucking Caleb had been like having a taste of the forbidden fruit, and you smoldered with desire for more… more of the succulent rapture he’d shown you.

Caleb planted his lips on your shoulder, grazing the skin lightly with his teeth, electric sparks radiating from every part of you he touched, and in the depths of your hazy, post-bliss muddled mind, you heard him tauntingly say…

“Geez, Pipsqueak, if ya think that felt good, wait till ya see what I do next.”

[missaengg]

A Mission Gone Sinfully Wrong

Day 18 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Jujutsu Kaisen | Gojo Satoru x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, sex pollen, aphrodisiac, pwp, semi-public sex, p in v sex Prompts: Intoxication/Hypnosis/Aphrodisiacs | “You look good like that. Thoroughly loved.” A/N: A day late, but posting Day 18! ao3 link here.

Relentless waves of fire were rolling through your body. Satoru was pounding into you with a frightening speed, supporting you by your ass with your legs around him, your back pressed against the trunk of a tree. You bit back a moan, hopelessly trying to fight against the torrential rain of pure unadulterated ecstasy, but his next thrust had you seeing stars until you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Senpai,” you gasped.

Satoru grunted, the grip he had on your hips tightening until you were sure his fingertips would leave bruises for you to find the next morning.

How.. How the fuck did you end up like this?!

It was supposed to be a straightforward mission, the kind where you would be in and out in record time without any complications, especially with the world’s strongest, Gojo Satoru by your side. 

The mission was to track down a Grade 1 curse wreaking havoc in a residential area a few hours from Tokyo, a weaker Grade 1 that you absolutely knew you could handle solo. There wasn’t much information available about this particular curse or the extent of its destruction other than abnormal reports of people being found dead, wrapped up in one another naked, but it was enough to warrant investigation.

You grumbled, ignoring Satoru’s rambling behind you, as you led the way through the woods, irate at why the higher ups insisted Gojo Satoru accompany you on this particular mission. As a Semi-Grade 1, you knew you were still in the phase of being evaluated by a Grade 1 sorcerer or higher, but… were there really no other sorcerers available other than Gojo Satoru?

Gojo Satoru had been a couple years your senior at Tokyo Jujutsu High School, and until the day he graduated, he teased you relentlessly, and when he wasn’t teasing you, he was dismissing you for being weak. The two years he wasn’t around until you graduated had been heaven. Until now. Until he was chosen to evaluate whether you passed the promotion. You huffed. Why couldn’t it be Nanami Kento senpai evaluating you instead?

Your blood boiled, his playful comments on how slow it took for you to attain Semi-Grade 1 status grating on your last nerve, at how he reached Grade 1 status years ago, while still attending Jujutsu High. You gritted your teeth, taking deep breaths to calm the fury bubbling up, in danger of exploding. Easy for him to say, he had the entirety of the formidable Gojo clan pushing for his ascension, though you were loath to admit that the heavens had blessed the man with the incomparable innate skill to be named, ‘the strongest’.

Clicking your tongue, you came to a stop in a small clearing in the middle of the dense thicket of trees. You listened, closing your eyes, taking in the sound of the branches rustling in the wind, the sound of birds chirping, the sound of animals padding through the woods. Other than what one would normally expect to hear in a wooded area, nothing. 

You frowned. The curse was last observed entering these woods. Even if it was lying dormant, your cursed energy enhanced hearing should be sensing something. 

“Need help?” Satoru snickered from behind you where he had been languidly following your lead. 

You felt yourself sigh. He was obviously being condescending. Knowing Satoru’s Six Eyes gift, it was likely he had already pinpointed the presence or the lack of presence of the curse, but this was your first mission as lead, and you needed the promotion to Grade 1. You needed to prove that you were strong enough to take over your family’s legacy as the first born child despite being a woman. You needed to prove that you weren’t weak.

“Not at all,” you retorted. 

Lifting your pointer and middle finger to your chest, you muttered, “Aural Expansion.” A ping only audible to you shot through the trees, the returning echoes mapping out what lay around you. 

Your eyes flew open. There. Thirty feet to your right. Lounging in a large tree.

You broke into a sprint. You heard Satoru protest from behind you, something about how you should communicate before running off on your own, but whatever. He was practically super human. He’d have no trouble keeping up.

You saw the tree from your echolocation up ahead. Smirking, you grasped the soundwaves of your and Satoru’s feet hitting the ground into your hands effectively muting the sound from reaching the curse’s ears. This was your ability, the ability to manipulate auditory vibrations. 

“Soundwave manipulation… shockwave.”

The soundwaves in your hand amplified, sending a pulse of energy into the tree where the curse was hiding. The tree exploded with a loud crack, shrapnel of wood violently flying in all directions. You grabbed the sound of the tree exploding, preventing the crack from resounding through the forest and into the surrounding residential region.

Waiting for the smoke to clear, you narrowed your eyes, flicking them right and left. Where was it? It had been a direct hit, but the force behind the sound of footsteps was only strong enough to incapacitate it. You needed the strength of the resulting explosion in order to exorcise it. 

Perking your ears, you took a deep breath, listening for a hint of its movements. 

“Eh? Is that Bulbasaur?” 

You whirled around, following the direction of Satoru’s blindfolded gaze to see… 

You cocked your head to one side. The curse was idly sitting in a patch of debris, twittering in what appeared to be bristling anger. The same disbelief in Satoru’s voice flickered across your face.

Because… the curse did look very much like Bulbasaur, or rather, a very grotesque form of Bulbasaur, if Bulbasaur had monstrous fangs and oozing boils and welts covering its surface. 

“Hmm… maybe not quite as cute as Bulbasaur.” Satoru turned to you. “So, you going to kill it or do I need to handle this for you?”

“I got it.”

You wanted to snap in frustration as Satoru shrugged in reply, shoving his hands in his pockets and slouching nonchalantly, but you chose to shift your focus onto the waves pulsing in your hands instead, preparing yourself to deliver the final, killing blow, when the curse suddenly jumped, shooting up into the air.

You froze. Did the first blast not injure it? Cursing to yourself, you snapped out of it, opening your mouth to utter your technique, when a soft yellow powder rained down on both you and Satoru, covering you in a fine layer of whatever it released. 

You coughed, trying to clear as much of it as you could from your airway. The powder had gotten up your nose and into your throat, coating everything in a dry layer as if you had just tried to swallow a spoonful of cinnamon. Choking on whatever it was, you prayed that the powder wasn’t anything poisonous or damaging, and barely gathering a breath, you choked out, “shockwave”, hurling the waves in your hands at the curse hanging in the air, watching as they barreled into its body and the curse exploded in a squelch of purple.

Thank god. 

You sank to your knees, gasping to catch your breath. It was only when the adrenaline subsided you could hear Satoru sputtering from behind you, also making futile attempts at expelling whatever this was from his own lungs.

That was strange. Satoru’s Limitless should have prevented the powder from reaching him at all. Did it have the ability to push through his barrier? You felt a giggle choking out of you. The great Gojo Satoru apparently wasn’t able to block everything.

“Not so–” cough “–invincible, are you–” cough “–senpai?” you wheezed, shaking at how ridiculous Satoru looked clutching at his chest, trying to suck in as much oxygen as you were at the moment. 

Turned out, he was just a man and not a god after all.

“Shut up–” cough “–all your fault.” Satoru – you assumed, it was difficult to tell with the blindfold – glared at you from where he was hunched over.

Your giggles turned into choked laughter, partially from the elation of not needing Gojo Satoru’s help on this mission and partially from the glee in watching him suffer.

But… 

Why was it suddenly so hot?!

A buzzing, tingling sensation rippled down your body starting from the top of your head, down to the very tip of your toes as an intense heat overtook you. 

Was this the effect of the curse’s powder?

You moved to stand, but the sensation of your thighs rubbing together sent a jolt of lightning hurtling through the apex between your legs.

What?

You unclenched your thighs, making another attempt to rise to your feet, but the sensation of skin against skin sent another jolt radiating through your lower belly. 

What was happening?

You glanced at your mission partner, who also seemed to be suffering from the same symptoms. He was groaning sensually, a soft flush spreading on his cheeks. 

“Senpai?”

Your voice came out sweetly, almost like a breathless moan, the complete opposite of what you intended. Satoru groaned pitifully as your voice reached him, writhing in what you presumed to be pain. You managed to pull yourself up onto shaky legs, stumbling over to the Special Grade sorcerer.

“Senpai, are you okay?”

You placed a hand on his shoulder, eliciting a drawn-out moan from him and startled at the intense heat radiating through you until you ached. All your senses buzzed for him. The enticing sounds of his groans, the intoxicating smell permeating off of him, the blistering heat of his body, the erotic flush on his face all overtaking you in an intense whirlwind until you throbbed. Throbbed with need for him.

Your eyes widened. The reports suddenly made sense. The yellow powder wasn’t a poison. It was a powerful aphrodisiac leading victims into carnal acts of pleasure, the curse killing them at their peak.

“Don’t… don’t touch me,” Satoru grunted. “This… all your… fault.”

He was barely holding himself together, his muscles rippling under his clothes, taut with restraint. He breathed heavily, the sound dizzying to your senses. You pathetically whined, your own desire bubbling under the surface, knees buckling at how intensely you shivered.

Gojo Satoru snapped when you brushed his side as you faltered beside him. He reached for you hastily, urgently crashing his lips onto yours, claiming them with a ravenous ferocity. You gasped, lips parting against him, and he took the opening to desperately taste you with his tongue, running them over your lips, intertwining it with yours.

He tasted divine. 

Somewhere in the murky depths of your mind, you knew that this was wrong. It was so very wrong. He was your evaluator. Your relationship was professional. You absolutely detested him. But the thought was lost in the muddled haze of your desire, the only prominent thought reigning in your mind in this present moment being one of how much you wanted him.

You pawed at him shamelessly, the feel of his taut muscles and his hungry, demanding lips stoking the fire burning within you into a blazing inferno.

“Can’t… can’t hold back,” he mumbled, his own hands roaming your body, along your back, your ass, your breasts.

You took in a shuddering breath, knowing you might regret how you answer tomorrow. “D-don’t.”

It was almost as if something in Gojo Satoru broke when you whimpered for him not to stop. He practically ripped off his pants and yours in his frenzied haste to remove everything that stood in the way of his cock and you.

“Gojo… senpai…”

“Say– say my name.”

“Satoru…”

With a guttural growl, Satoru hiked you up around his waist, his lips still locked onto yours, stumbling until your back hit the trunk of a tree behind you, your legs wrapping around his waist. A thready moan escaped you, the impact sending vibrations roiling through your hot, bothered body. Satoru keened at the sultry sound of your voice, pressing you even harder against the rough bark.

He entered you sharply, your arousal pooling so thickly, he buried himself to the hilt quickly without resistance. Satoru broke the kiss, burying his head in the crook of your neck, panting.

“God, you feel amazing.”

His strangled exhaled breaths burned where they landed on your skin. You were squirming, trembling, writhing, the deliciously full sensation of him bringing you to your metaphorical knees. There was no foreplay, no buildup. Satoru was splitting you open, bouncing you on his cock, his frenzied speed only getting faster every time he felt you clench.

It was pure animalistic pandemonium. 

Satoru found his way back to your lips, seeking them out with a frenetic desperation as if he’d never experience something so sweet again. “Wouldn’t have… happened… if I killed it… first…” he grunted, pressing his lips to yours over and over again, hot, heavy breaths intermingling with your own heady gasps of pleasure. 

God, how was it that even deep in the throes of passion, he could make your blood pressure rise dramatically?

“Shut.. up…”

You arched your back, moaning his name, trembling from the overwhelming build of fire scorching you from the inside out. Satoru was pounding into you at an inhuman speed, driving deeper into you as if he were trying to meld your bodies into one, the friction of him dragging along you driving you to the edge of unraveling. 

Gojo Satoru was fucking you, and you were loving it.

“Senpai…” His grip on you tightened, his fingertips digging into your flesh with a bruising force. “Satoru…”

You were on the edge, so close, so very close.

“Almost… hah…” Satoru breathed.

Your eyes fluttered closed, and throwing your head back, you made the lewdest, most indecent yowl you’d ever made in your life, clamping down on his cock with a force you yourself had never experienced before.

Satoru slammed into you forcefully, filling your vision with white hot stars, the painfully delicious sensation sending you both careening off the edge and he was filling you with flood after flood of his release while you convulsed uncontrollably in his arms.

Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears. It was only after the adrenaline ebbed away, as the fog of blinding lust cleared and clarity returned, the effects of the powder seemingly having abated, that you realized the ridiculous vision the two of you must make, half-naked, flushed, tops and blindfold askew, his climax and your slick sliding down your thighs, creamed around his base – in a public space no less. Feeling him soften still buried deep inside you, you blushed furiously and swatted at his arms, silently demanding he release you.

Satoru did the opposite, pulling you even more flush against his heaving body, a smug smirk dancing on his arrogant, swollen lips, a wicked gleam in his impossibly clear blue eyes. 

You struggled against his hold, but he held fast, his physical strength far above yours, leaving you thrashing in vain. You huffed, your blush deepening, refusing to meet his incessant gaze, more to spare yourself from the embarrassment of what just happened.

“You know…”

“Don’t, just… please don’t.” You all, but begged. Knowing Gojo Satoru, the next words out of his mouth were guaranteed to be aggravatingly humiliating. 

“You look good like that. Thoroughly loved.” 

You groaned, sure that your face was no doubt a deep reddish purple. “Shut up,” and with a pout, you insisted, “This never happened.”

Satoru hummed, but finally released you, gently pulling out and setting you on your feet. You beelined towards your discarded pants, trying to ignore the squelch of white running down your leg. Shakily dressing yourself, you watched as Satoru also righted himself out of the corner of your eye. 

You wanted nothing more than to go home, to your quiet, safe, apartment where you could take a scalding hot shower to remove any and all traces of that damn curse and Gojo Satoru off of your body, where you could bury yourself under your blanket and utter muffled profanities into your pillow, where you could die and wallow in embarrassment.

But, being a few hours from Tokyo and with how dark it had gotten, it was likely you’d have to find a place to stay for the night before you could return to your comforting bed the next morning.

You twisted your fingers together, searching for something, anything to say to break the awkward silent tension hanging in the air. 

“So… did I pass the evaluation?”

You grimaced as the words left your mouth.

Really? That’s what you decided to say? After what just happened?

You heard Satoru snicker.

“After that, definitely.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course… of course he’d say something so exasperatingly inappropriate. You sometimes wondered why you even bothered expecting anything different.

“Gojo Satoru, you are a menace,” you muttered to yourself under your breath, but kicked yourself when Satoru chuckled, indicating that he had heard you.

“Come on, I’m starving.” Satoru walked off, but he suddenly stopped, turning halfway back towards you, fixing one of his gorgeous blue eyes on you, twinkling with something you couldn’t quite name before snapping the blindfold in place.

The electric zing running through you unsettled you.

Could it be that the powder’s effect hadn’t completely worn off? 

That had to be the only rational explanation for what you just felt. The other possibility, the possibility that you might not actually dislike Gojo Satoru didn’t make any sense.

Groaning, you ran to catch up to Satoru’s receding form, ardently hoping there was an inn in town with more than just one vacant room.

It was going to be a long night, you just knew it.

[missaengg]

An Illicit Masquerade Encounter

Day 1 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation 2024 hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Sylus x f!reader Tags: mdni, nsfw, smut, anonymous sex, vaginal sex, creampie, pwp, light aftercare

Prompts: Anonymous Sex | “We can go, or we can stay here and fuck.”

ao3 link here.

You noticed him the moment you walked in. It was hard not to, he was tall, muscular, and while his face was hidden, you could tell underneath the mask he was wearing that he had striking features. He commanded attention, evident by every gaze, both male and female, following him as he moved throughout the room. 

You took a sip of your drink, a tonic water with lime, from a corner of the lavishly decorated ballroom observing the crowd of party attendees all wearing masks of their own. The Hunter’s Association had received a tip earlier that week that the leader of Onychinus would be in attendance at a masquerade ball, and you had been tasked with running reconnaissance in order to identify the potential leader. Other than the lead, the leader would be in attendance, The Hunter’s Association knew nothing about the crime boss of the N109 Zone, not their gender, their age, nor their appearance. You knew absolutely nothing.

Your eyes flickered from person to person, scrutinizing their mannerisms and associates for any clues as to their identity, but you found your eyes glancing back at the tall silver-haired stranger every so often only to forcibly tear them away to focus on your mission before they drifted back again. It was just so damn hard to keep your eyes off of him. He looked absolutely delicious in his black suit with red lightning bolt accents, his eyes flashing with an irresistible charisma that drew you in wanting to know more.

He moved through the room gracefully, stopping to converse with various groups of party goers as if he’d know them for years, though it was hard to tell if he did truly know them or not. While the masks didn’t completely cover one’s face, they covered a good portion making it difficult to identify the person in question though the mouth was left visible to make it convenient for attendees to eat and drink in merriment.

You prowled the perimeter of the room, preferring to observe the crowd in solitude without any — or mostly any — distractions. A breeze ran through your legs causing you to involuntarily press your thighs together. A long slit ran up the side of your dress practically exposing you to your panty line. Another couple inches higher, and the world would be able to see the black, lacy thong you were wearing as part of your undercover attire.

You snuck another glance, but frowned when you realized the man in question was nowhere to be seen where he had just been a moment ago. You swept your eyes left and right searching for a sign of this mysterious man without any success. The man in question stood at over six feet tall with broad shoulders, there was no possible way you would miss him in a crowd of any size.

“Looking for someone?”

You jumped at the deep, silky drawl in your ear, their breath tickling your neck. You spun around only to find yourself face to face with the very same man you were looking for. 

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement, his face uncomfortably close to yours. “Sorry, sweetie, did I startle you?”

“N-no.” Your voice cracked, entranced by his hypnotizing crimson eyes. “Not at all.”

He arched an eyebrow, indicating he didn’t believe you, but he pulled back. You exhaled in relief. Somewhere in between his captivating gaze and his face being so close to yours you could practically kiss him, you had forgotten to breathe. Your face felt hot, though that wasn’t the only place where you felt the heat. A sweet flush spread throughout your core, the building of your arousal causing you to involuntarily clamp your thighs together for the second time that evening.

The man hummed. His eyes bore into yours with such a knowing gleam you wondered if he knew just how turned on you were by his mere presence. You took a sip of your drink to wet your parched mouth, the cool liquid running down your throat doing nothing to quench the lust burning inside you.

“So, who do I have the pleasure of speaking to this evening?” 

“Alice.” You offered your alias for the evening, a small arms dealer new to the N109 Zone. “You?”

“Sylus.”

Something about his name stirred a faint memory, but you couldn’t recall what it might be with how muddled your head had become. You couldn’t even recall why you were originally here in this plush ballroom wearing a sleek dress and a mask that covered most of your face.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you breathed out.

Sylus leaned in again, his cologne bathing you in a cloud of some sort of spice you couldn’t identify, the scent of which mixing with his own natural scent was sending you into a state of dizzy heat. He brought his mouth right by your ear, so close his lips brushed against you in an electrifying jolt, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips.

“Am I wrong to assume that you’re incredibly taken by my presence?” He all but purred into your ear. He placed his hand onto the small of your back pulling you in closer. “Because if I’m being honest, I must admit I’m quite taken with you.”

You gulped. Audibly. You suddenly wished you weren’t wearing a thong at how wet you felt yourself growing in response to the pheromones permeating off of this man. 

“I’m not quite sure what you mean,” you stammered, doing a poor job of hiding how turned on you were.

“Kitten, I think we both know what I mean.” Sylus ran his hand up your thigh slipping under the skirt and lightly brushing along the soaked crotch of your underwear. 

You quivered at his touch, all pretense of composure thrown out the window, a tiny mewl escaping you. Your mind clouded over in a lustful haze. All you could think about was how hungry you were for this man, how desperate you were for his lips to be on yours, his hands to tease you relentlessly, and for him to fill you to your absolute core, your mission be damned.

“I— Nngh!” Your body jerked when Sylus pressed his finger firmly against your clit. 

“Kitten, we can go, or we can stay here and fuck. Which would you prefer?” His finger firmly stroked you over your thong. 

You licked your lips, now bone dry, knowing that you were only growing slicker from his caress. “Stay here and fuck,” you whispered, your body involuntarily bucking against him.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck— Fuck me, please,” you pleaded, tears beginning to form in your eyes at how much you wanted him to take you. “Please.”

“As you wish,” Sylus murmured.

He whisked you away to a bathroom in a quiet hallway just as lavish as the venue, dimly lit with plush, red velvet seats and gold accents. As soon as the door locked behind you, he brought his lips to yours in a searing, bruising kiss, hungry and demanding. The intensity of his kiss caused your knees to buckle, but Sylus caught you before you dropped to the ground, picking you up easily and seating you on the cold marble of the vanity. He spread your legs open at your knees with his broad hands until they straddled his waist, the slit of your dress exposing your lacy, black thong for him to view.

“Hm?” Sylus quirked an eyebrow at the sight. “Didn’t see you as the lacy thong type.” His hands slid up your thighs, his firm grip giving away just how affected he was by the fabric barely containing your desire. He took in how your sweet nectar leaked out the sides glistening on your upper thighs, his eyes darkening at the sight.

“I’m full of surprises,” you breathed out, shivering at the primal need overtaking him.

His lips crashed onto yours again, in a series of mind-numbing, toe-curling kisses, each kiss pushing you further into a disoriented haze of pleasure. You softly moaned into his mouth feeling him tense with each erotic moan you let out.

“Fuck, I want to taste you.” 

Sylus roughly yanked you off the vanity, spinning you around until you were bent over at the waist with both palms flat on the marble surface. He roughly pushed the crotch of your thong to the side with one hand running his finger in your arousal while his other hand undid his belt and pulled his slacks down just enough to free himself. Sylus trailed kisses along your neck while he slid his length along your sex coating himself in your sweet honey. The tip brushed against your throbbing clit, each brush releasing a guttural groan from deep within your belly.

You could feel Sylus’s breath quicken on your skin, his fingernails digging into the sides of your hips to the point of leaving crescent shaped bruises. He slipped in the tip, the sudden stretching of your opening snapping your head back against his chest along with a sharp exhale, walls clenching around him.

“Hah.. you’re taking me so well,” Sylus growled, sinking in further, stretching you with his dick.

You closed your eyes, arching your back into him. Sylus buried his head into the crook of your neck, wrapping a firm arm around your chest to hold you flush against him, fully burying himself in your warmth. His mask felt cold on your skin, the chill in contrast to the fever overtaking you adding to the pleasure you felt.

“God, you feel so good,” he grunted, rubbing his nose into your neck, thrusting into you with an animalistic fervor.

He pushed into you deeply, hitting your cervix with each thrust, each deep thrust sending a wave of pleasure throughout your core, moans tumbling from you so quickly he could barely keep up. 

“Harder,” you panted, bucking your hips back to take him in deeper. “Take me harder.”

“Heh…” Sylus smirked, snapping his hips into you so sharply, you saw stars when he drove into your cervix. 

“Oh, fuck.” You clenched around him, eliciting a hiss from Sylus behind you. 

“Kitten, if you— clench like that— I can’t— I can’t hold on.”

You felt your consciousness slipping from his deep assault, the ecstasy building deep within your core ready to explode, but you still felt a spark of glee at knowing that this mysterious man you knew nothing about was also barely holding on to his sanity. The glee lasted only for a minute because you finally exploded, a strangled, mewling cry erupting from you in a passionate release. “Sylus!” On impulse you added, begging, “Cum— cum inside— Nngh, inside me.”

Sylus responded with deep, guttural grunts in sync with his feverish rutting, pounding your hips into his. “God, kitten, you feel— you feel amazing.” He allowed himself to let go, slamming himself into you down to the hilt, erupting in spurts, which you could feel shooting inside you and dribbling down the inside of your thighs.

He didn’t pull out immediately, keeping you plugged while he softened from the expenditure, panting into your hair. You allowed yourself to relax into his embrace, his arms wrapped around you in a cozy cuddle, your eyes closed, basking in his arms. You felt him press his lips to your temple.

“Well, that was lovely,” you heard him murmur.

You laughed, a twinkle of a smile. “Yes, it was.” You suddenly felt self-conscious of your current state, with your skirt bunched around your waist, a thin layer of sweat on your brow, eyeliner and mascara smudged into panda eyes, and this man’s seed and your juices running down your thighs. “I look like a mess.” You lowered your head, not wanting him to see you clearly in this state.

Sylus stirred behind you, his hand raising your head to the side so that you could see him from the corner of your eye. “No, kitten. You look beautiful,” he rumbled. “Now let’s get you cleaned up so you can rejoin the party, hm?”

He extricated himself from you, all of you, and you felt the loss of his body heat, shivering from the sudden loneliness enveloping you. Sylus gently turned you around, using the hand towels — actual towels because this venue was fancy — to wipe the big mess he made, so big the flimsy scrap of fabric you called underwear was unable to contain it all. He straightened your skirt, ensuring his hands grazed your skin as he did so, and then with a new dampened towel, tenderly wiped away where your makeup had smudged around your eyes and lips.

“There, like nothing happened.” Sylus placed his hand against your cheek, using his thumb to stroke you. “You still look lovely.”

“Thank you?” You replied in a quiet voice, not quite sure how to respond to fucking an absolute stranger — a gorgeous stranger, but a stranger nonetheless — whose face you hadn’t properly seen in the bathroom of a ballroom venue, especially one who was not only sexy, but also tenderly sweet. 

Sylus kissed you, chaste enough that it was clearly a good-bye, but just racy enough that you felt another stir deep within your belly. “It was a pleasure…” he paused, an amused smirk gracing his lips, “Alice. Do tell The Hunter’s Association I say hello.” Sylus winked at you and strolled out of the bathroom.

Your eyes widened in surprise . How was it that he knew about your association with The Hunter’s Association? Or that your name wasn’t Alice?

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks crashing onto you from a great height above. The man you had just fucked… the man who oozed charisma and sex appeal… the man who turned you into a gooey mess of ecstasy… Sylus was the leader of Onychinus.

You buried your face into your hands, groaning miserably into the empty room.

You had just fucked the leader of Onychinus.

And you wanted nothing more than for the infamous crime boss of the N109 Zone to fuck you again.