#ruin him in wicked ways

[nostalgic90s]

Toying around with the idea of Jerome Valeska (Gotham series) kidnapping Bruce Wayne (The Joker 2019 movie). Not that I got anything against David Mazouz as Bruce (he is my favorite) but his version of Bruce was kind of a brat hehe, perhaps because Alfred raised him - little man tried to challenge the Court of Owls for crying out loud. That and witnessing his parents death gave him some world experience, at least an understanding of the cruelty of men. Anyway, I like Dante Pereira-Olson's version of Bruce due to his innocence, and naïveté to his innocence. He let some stranger with a clown nose walk up to him and entertain him with magic tricks, before letting the guy (Joker) stick his fingers into his mouth. Bruce didn’t think this man would hurt him, hell he’s so sheltered he probably doesn’t think bad men exist in the first place. As for the reason behind the abduction, it could be the same as Arthur Fleck, in which Jerome truly believes Thomas Wayne is his biological father. However, trying to engage Thomas Wayne ends badly, and it leaves a bitter taste of revenge on Jerome’s tongue. When an unexpected opportunity presents itself, Jerome seizes the moment to whisk his half-brother away.

In other words, I just want Jerome to do really bad things to baby Bruce-

[bitchimasnake-sss]

☆ fury unleashed!

── a blue lock fanfiction.

synopsis: when the blue lock boys lose a match and come back bitter 'n all to you. pairing: afab!reader x multiple men [aged up isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, hyoma chigiri, rensuke kunigami, nagi seishiro, reo mikage, oliver aiku.] // separate for all the characters. cw: NOT PROOFREAD. WRITTEN JUST CAUSE I WAS BORED. MDNI. nsfw concludes: mean men, penetration, handjob, blowjob, teasing, nicknames teasing, overstimulation, sex in too many places [shower, locker room, car, etc.], marathon sex, aiku's is slightly lovesick help me. like, share, subscribe guys :) m.list

♡ isagi yoichi!

all this anger and only one way to end it: you!

you knew your own boyfriend, of course. you had seen how his words turned razor-sharp on the field, how his gaze hardened and how he almost ripped his own players to shreds when the game didn't go his way.

but despite it all, isagi yoichi was not a sore loser. in fact, he took every loss as another opportunity to be better. maybe... maybe that's why seeing him like this was a wicked surprise.

"baby?" you had called out from the kitchen as the main door had opened, and then shut just as soon. a loud, rippling bang had reverberated through your apartment as you saw isagi pass you by.

"what's wrong? how was your... match?" you had tried again, calling after him. but isagi had just given you a tight-lipped smile, "don't wanna talk about it. 'm just gonna go shower, wanna join?"

"oh?" you had given him an easy smile, thinking you could knead away the tension from his shoulders as the hot water ran across his muscled body, "'course, baby."

that was thirty minutes ago, and now you could barely stand.

perched against the wet bathroom wall, the same hot water was a soothing sting against yoichi's administrations.

"ha-hah, yoichi!" your words were a rough pant, your eyes closing at the harsh thrusts.

but isagi yoichi was unforgiving.

sinking his canines into your shoulders, hot drool collected over the newly blossomed bruises before being washed down and slipping down your syrupy body.

he pulled away, his reddened lips connecting to your shoulders with a lewd string of glistening saliva. his crazed eyes came to search your face, and he brought up a hand to pull your cheeks into a harsh pout. his words were laden with unresolved anger, "can you fuckin' believe it? he didn't even score."

your words were a lost gurgle, eyes widening as he continued, "i really don't fucking get it. that fuckin' idiot."

the star player didn't even give you a moment to recover, using the same hand to press down on your mouth to suppress your gasps and broken whines.

you choked on your own sounds, his palm flat against your kiss-bitten lips as he continued fucking you into the wall behind you. using all his anger, isagi vowed to ruin you utterly the way he would have the rival team.

"y-ichi." your muffled words reached his ears, even more weak under the sound of the falling water crashing against the bathroom floor. the footballer nodded, half in his senses and half in delirium, "what?"

he pulled his palm back, the skin now tainted with your drool and you burst into a fit of moans, "'m gonna cum ag-again."

"oh?" the man bunched his brows together — as if he had quite forgotten what his actions were doing to you, "are ya?"

you nodded and your eyes snapped shut at his repetitive thrusts within your cunt. barely managing a coherent word, you mewled, "y-yeah. fa... faster, ichi ngh—"

isagi grinned, a man maddened who could only see one goal — and that goal being splitting you on his cock and fucking you even dumber if possible, "c'mon, gimme all of it."

"y-yoichi 'm gon—" your words burst inwards, toes curling and nails scratching down his biceps in a desperate effort to ground you. but despite your desolate reactions, your boyfriend kept fucking into your snug cunt, relishing in the spasming sensation against his needy cock.

as you found yourself coming back to earth, yoichi gently picked you in his arms. his biceps flexed, muscles shifting against your naked body as you slumped against him completely. the water was turned off, and he stepped out of the shower.

as yoichi lay you down on your bed, you smiled up at him for his sweet action, "t-thank you, yoichi."

but he just cocked an eyebrow. his words were nothing more than a soft hiss, "what for? 'm still angry."

oh? the night was still young, it seems.

♡ rin itoshi!

the man with jersey number 10 loses his sanity!

truth be told, there was always this air around rin — the kind that always made everyone assume he was mad. with his icy gaze on the field, and snarls and insults thrown around, it was hard not to assume that rin itoshi was a very bitter man.

but in all honesty, rin was never bitter with you. he tried to sigh away his annoyances, and kiss away his anger with you around. as cringe as it sounded, he couldn't help but melt whenever you met his gaze.

maybe that is why the younger itoshi never quite looked at you as he fucked all of his anger into your weeping cunt.

after a match gone wrong, rin had his hand pushing your face against his locker door as he fucked your pliant, destitute cunt with reckless abandon. his strong grip groped the fat on your hips and thigh, ensuring that each fucking thrust within your heat had you betting your sanity on a losing match.

his ITOSHI: 10 jersey held up by his teeth, hair damp from a match gone wrong, and the ITOSHI tag on his locker rattling with each hard thrust into you.

"fuckin' shit—" the man grunted, and the jersey glided down his milky abs and bunched on his waist. gripping your leg harder, your boyfriend pushed your back further in, deepening the sinful arch. his body chased yours, his chest pressing against your stuttering back.

a steady rhythm of thwap! thwap! thwap! resounded in the abandoned room. and the cool metal against your cheek was a stark contrast to the hot sting against the fat of your ass from his body colliding against yours.

"ri-in" you whined, still meeting each of his thrusts with a sly roll of your own hips despite your reluctant words. your skin burnt with another calculated smack! against your ass and your clawed at the metal — deprived.

seeing the desperate action, rin brought the hand on your head down to your hand and intertwined — such a romantic gesture despite the way he fucked into you as if you were nothing more than a toy.

"yeah— fuck, what?" rin thrust deeper at the desperate echoes of his own name. his achy tip rubbed against your volatile spot, smearing pre against your sodden walls with each careful movement.

"rin, p-please—" limbs trembling, your words almost slurred at the way his hand came back up and squished your cheek against the metal, "please aah— f-fuck."

"please what?" grunting, he brought his fingers to your throbbing clit. pressing swift figures against your, he pressed his chest against your back tighter.

rin repeated, this time with a harsh, little slap to your mewling cunt, "please what?"

"please..." barely managing to move your face under his grasp, you looked back at him. your bleary gaze met his sharp ones, and your wobbling lips sagged open to let out a pathetic request, "fuck me harder."

and rin itoshi — the ever stoic man — laughed. he laughed, trailing the hand that was pressing down your head down to your nape and dragging your entire body back into him and his deprived cock.

each pull back into his muscled body had your limbs spasming, each roll of his hips had him hitting your g-spot and each word past his spit-soaked lips led to your demise.

"fuck you harder?" his hips snapped at a deadly pace, brows bunching at the way his own girlfriend had become so cockdrunk, "you want that?"

you nodded just barely, still under the control of his palm on your nape.

"okay, then." rin hiked up your legs impossibly higher, and your muscles burned with each shove into you, "I'll fuck you harder."

♡ chigiri hyoma!

trust me, meaner than he looks!

"hyoma?" your brows knitted together, a soft frown across your face as you recalled the live telecasting of your boyfriend's match online earlier today.

his team had lost, badly at that. and here you were halfway across the world, just to see chigiri's breath stutter and jaw tighten on your camera screen.

"h-hyoma?" you tried again, just to be met with eerie silence on his end. but being a woman of unyielding devotion, you tried yet again, "'sokay, you guys did your best, didn't... you?"

but the man on videocall just grunted, a sliver of a nod from his side.

"hyoma," you tried one last time, "is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

and those words had landed you in this position.

"faster."

"b-but hyo—" your own hips jerked, too out of control as you tried to hold the position steady, "i can't. i c-can't do it anymore— nghh—"

with your phone carefully perched against your pillow, it showed your boyfriend all the obscene ways in which your essence dripped out of you and onto your shared bed. the sheets under you were tainted with your honeydew essence, a wayward breath stuck in your throat as you pulled and pushed the rabbit vibrator in and out of your greedy hole.

toes curling, head thrown back, teeth sinking into your bottom lips — it was so, so hard to keep your thighs apart and put on a show for your eerily calm boyfriend. the very same boyfriend who was currently using one hand to control the app and another to lazily tug at his erection.

"h-hyoma—" you whined again and your boyfriend cocked an eyebrow at your disheveled demeanor, as if he wasn't the very cause of it. "why're you whining so much? too much for you?"

and acting as if he were a benevolent man, chigiri clicked the button on his phone and the buzzing ended abruptly. the slightest of smiles tugged at his lips as he hummed, "that better?"

your arched back fell back onto the sheets, your sweat-slicked skin falling limp in disappointment. this wasn't the first time chigiri had shut off your toy, or the second, or even the third. your benevolent boyfriend had been turning the precious toy he had bought you on and off again, and again, and again on his vicious whims.

with a shuddered breath trapped within your chest, you looked at him and whined yet again, "can you ju-jus' fuckin' turn it back on."

"huh?" your pretty boyfriend bunched his eyebrows together and drew closer to his laptop screen. nimble fingers still tugging on his tip, coated with his pre, he almost laughed at your tone, "are you really giving me that fuckin' attitude?"

"n-no." your eyes widened, body coughing up a shiver at the way chigiri's cold words rung through the speaker. you swallowed but your mouth felt awfully dry, "h-hyoma... just please, please turn it on."

"fine." the pro-player pressed the button on the app with reckless abandon, and the toy started up against your drenched, quivering cunt... and then stopped yet again. throwing your head back dangerously, you felt your limbs shake with frustration, "hyoma. please."

and even with your eyes clenched shut, you could hear the slightest of smirks in his words, "say nicely. y'know i don't have it in me to be nice today, baby."

snapping your eyes open, you tried to meet your unsteady gaze onto the phone screen, "i'll be good. i'll be s'good, i p-promise— just please let me fucking... c-cum."

there must have been something worthwhile in your drunk, lewd words that made chigiri finally tap the button on his phone again. and this time, he threw his phone somewhere on his bed, aiming to let the device get lost within the foreign sheets.

this time, he planned to watch the show without any interruptions.

the buzzing against your needy clit, and the shove within your greedy, gummy hole rendered you useless with orgasm upon orgasm till all you were doing was babbling on and on and on about how fucking sensitive you were.

"s-stop." holding your thighs together, you brought them up so that the toy fucked into your pussy with another angle. tears pooled at the edge of your eyes, and you found yourself aching for freedom from this torment. words just a wet plea, you asked, "pl-please ohmygod— hyoma, fuck fuck fuuck—"

with the blood rushing in your ears, you missed your boyfriend sodden, little hum — a warning, "you can do more than that, can't you?"

♡ rensuke kunigami!

swear up and down, he's the devil!

you were sure there was god up there somewhere, because how else could you explain the very re-incarnation of devil that was fucking into your spongy spot? you couldn't quite see his eyes, but if you did, you were sure to find no traces of guilt in rensuke kunigami's eyes for the way he was ruining you.

the muscles in your thighs burned, your limbs pinned upto your chest with his broad palms. perspiration across your body dripped onto him, your soaked back rubbed against his chest as kunigami snapped his hips into your inviting, plush cunt with inhumane stamina.

"c'mon." he panted, hips following the soft rhythm of his syllables, "the last stretch, 's the last."

"fu-fuck, fuck fuck re-rensuk- nghhh—" your nails dug into the very hand that was holding you still, trying to pry him off your malleable body. but it was all in vain, he had already planned your demise.

your head lolled back as you found the pro-played clawing out another orgasm out of you. limbs spasming, lips kiss-bitten and raw, and your poor cunt bulging obscenely with his length within you — you didn't even know how you ended up in this situation.

rensuke had come home with a dangerous glint in his eyes — of course, you hadn't been able to see that.

he had come upto you as you were unloading the clothes from the dryer and had pressed such a sickly sweet hug to your back. his hulking body was steady against yours, and his breath was hot against your neck.

"rensuke?" you had laughed as his grip across your waist grew tighter slowly. bringing up a hand to his hair, you had softly patted him, "what's wrong, ren?"

"think you can help me?" kunigami had breathed the question out so gently, "let me fuck you, yeah? i had a hard day."

and despite being such a simple question, here you were with your throat scratchy and muscles aching.

your boyfriend had planted his feet onto your almost-broken bed with all his strength, using it to leverage nasty, bruising thrusts within your sensitive hole.

"jus-just a bit more." your boyfriend sunk his teeth into your shoulder, and you yelped at the added stimulus, barely coherent with whatever was going on. all you knew was that you were being ravaged by the beast underneath you.

with every mean, little thrust inside you, kunigami's jaw tightened, his muscles flexing and unflexing as he supported your completely limp body. he heaved again, a ragged promise on his tongue, "i promise, just a bit more. jus' hold on a l-little bit f'me, baby."

how were his words so sweet when his actions were not?

"you can hold out for me... ri-" a harsh roll into your cunt, and the man felt himself losing his coherence, "right?"

"uh huh. i- fuck oh ngh— i can, i can." being an ever-loving girlfriend, you nodded. frankly too cockdrunk to really grasp his words, anyways.

a bit of drool threatened past your lips, and all you were aware of was the dreadful coil in the pit of your stomach. it wrapped it's tendrils around your muscles, then your throat and lastly, your sanity.

but kunigami kept on babbling his candied lies, as if blinding you with his words would undo the hell he was unleashing on your poor, sensitive cunt. each word a rough pant, he reminded you, "you're doin' so well for me, holdin' out s-so well for me, aren't you?"

"i- i am, ren." you nodded, and he felt his tip ooze out nasty smears of pre to paint your insides at your pliant reactions. tightening his hand around you and holding you steady, the man brought his skin against you in an accursed symphony of skin upon skin, "good girl, such a fuckin' g-good girl... yeah?"

"just." smack! "a." smack! "little." smack! "more." smack!

his length throbbed inside your spasming, inviting cunt with heinous intentions. fucking into you like he was fucking into a ragdoll, he asked a question — a question you were too fucked dumb to even answer.

"we're going again, right?" kunigami nudged his face next to yours, holding your shivering body as he felt his own body tightening up, "when we finish?"

despite the lack of oxygen in your brain, and lack of logic in your system, your eyes widened as you babbled out your own nonsense chorus, "w-what? ren... but y-you said—"

"—again."

"b-but i can't..." walls spasming, you tried yet again to pry him off, "i can-not."

"but you can." the man pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, the kind that were in clear juxtaposition with the depraved plunges he placed within your heat. he repeated with just the tiniest bit of insanity mixed into his syllables, "you can."

♡ reo mikage!

got an heir wrapped 'round my finger!

"reo?" you had cocked your head to look at the mikage industry's heir's sideways, trying to check if he was okay after that failure of a practice match, "you okay?"

he hummed out a faint yes but his knuckles tightened against the steering wheels far too easily. chuckling, the words came out somewhat strained, "of course, why wouldn't i be?"

you had tried to put a palm on his thigh, just to find the clothed muscle tighten, "can i help?"

the car steered sideways on the long-abandoned road, now coming to a steady crawl as he parked it.

reo's voice shook, eyes clenching shut as he addressed you again, "can you?"

despite the dangerous lilt to his words, you couldn't help but trail the hand on his thigh somewhat higher, teasing him. you smiled, and your lips curled so cashmere at your lewd intentions, "i can help take your mind off of things, reo."

his veiny hand gripped the headrest harder, manicured nails indenting frenzied dents onto the expensive leather. strands of his hair fell in front of his face in shuddering gasps as you flicked your wrist with each tug of his sensitive cock.

down on your knees for the man, you looked up at him with a sinful gaze — the kind that had reo hiss out weak moans of your name with each one of your reckless flicks.

"reo, are you okay?" you purred, lips curling deviously at the way his entire body stuttered out a falsetto. from the bunched eyebrows, to the quivering lips, to his lead-like limbs — reo mikage was rendered useless under your kitten licks and sultry tugs, under your already pearlescent hands.

how many times had he come undone, anyways? two? three?

"thr-three." reo breathed out shakily.

the man attempted to nod quick after, trying to forge a sign of sanity despite his shaking thighs and curled toes.

oh? did you ask that out loud?

"three?" you cocked an eyebrow, the same vicious smile still tugging at your lips like you were planning to suck the soul out of him tonight. "then, you can still go for one more, right?"

at your purr, reo's eyes widened, "n-no, this is— 'senough. i f-feel better, i promise."

but your tugs didn't halt, still such cruelly pulling at his sensitive tip, "but you're being such a good boy for me, right?"

at the petname, reo let out such an obscenely saccharine moan. eyes rolling back, he ran his helpless fingers through his soaked, hued hair. thighs trembling all over again as the mikage industry heir almost cried, "y-yes."

maybe you were a woman capable of mercy. because you stopped the slow, dragged out flicks of your hands against his flushed tip slowly. half-standing, you leaned to press a kiss to the tip of his flushed nose.

"tell me, baby." you cooed, pressing another kiss to his cheek, and another to the side of his swollen lips. dragging your vixen-like figure over his body, you caged him in so helplessly, "tell me, think you can handle if i use you?"

"i— ngh ple-please." and you heard the most sinful whimper tear out of reo's throat, eyes all but rolling into the back of his skull with the way you straddled his hips and pressed his wet, sensitive dick up and down your syrupy folds.

still playing with the flushed mushroom tip, you found it all-too-easy to hook the tip against the hood of your drumming clit. repeating the action again and again, you found yourself lazily biting out a moan of his name.

afterall, reo mikage was being so nice.

he was holding his breath in his throat, clenching his fist around the leather, biting down obscene curses — all in an effort to be good for you.

so, ofcourse, you had to reward him, didn't you?

with a hasty roll of your hips, your ravenous cunt pulled in the tip of his aching cock. inch after inch, the veiny, overstimulated muscle stretched within you and—

"—fu-fuck, fuck, fuckk." reo panted, eyes widening and body shivering when he let out the salacious beads of his orgasm within your voracious cunt.

"'msorry, 'msor-ry," he clenched his eyes shut, not quite looking at you as you were pumped with his essence, "i did-didn't mean to... to so— soon."

when his jitters subsided, you hooked a careful finger under his sweaty jaw to pull him upwards. a soft hiss on your tongue, "feel better?"

reo nodded softly, and you smiled so easily at him. but maybe you missed that glint in his eyes, or maybe you forgot that reo's play-style was copying. because now his fingers pumped in and out of you, a sly smile on his spent face as his demolished you.

reo mikage said it real slow, "tell me, angel... think you can handle if i use you?"

♡ nagi seishiro!

breaking that pretty cunt tonight!

"sei!" you had turned your head from the couch to the door that had opened to reveal your boyfriend, "hey!"

hair damp and face monotonous, he had given you a nod, "hey."

"something wrong..?" your voice had trailed off as the man walked upto you and easily picked you up in his arms without even as much as a sliver of explanation.

"need a shower," nagi seishiro had quietly answered, yet you could hear the slight rattle in the fractures of his words, "just tired."

"s-sei... c-can I move?" now, your manicured fingers kneaded his shoulders, trying to ease away the tense feeling lodged within the fibres of his muscles. the snowy-haired man had his head in the crook of your neck, lapping on the soaked skin lazily at the slow gyrations of your hips against his.

sitting in the heated bath, it was your idea to cockwarm him, your idea to sit excruciatingly still to let your boyfriend feel better. and yet, as your slick glossed over his muscled thighs, you shuddered out a pathetic sigh, "s-sei, please..?"

it just had been so long, almost felt like an eternity with the way your drooling cunt kept clenching around him — brewing up a violent storm of heady desires in the bottom of your stomach.

"se-i." the syllable rolled of your tongue with another desolate plea but nagi just tipped his head back, ignoring your forlorn words.

the damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead and glinted under the overhead ambient lighting. he sighed, and his deltoids flexed as he stretched his limbs out on the bathtub's edge.

biting your lip, you tried again. this time growing mouthy, "sei, jus' let me move."

the man cocked an eyebrow, a feeble smile tugging at his lips with the way your aching cunt seemed to suck him in, "nah, don't feel like it yet."

"i-i'll do all the work," you found yourself striking a deal with a demon reincarnate, found yourself pleading to a deaf god, "i promise— jus' let me move."

at the statement, your stoic boyfriend laughed. and once done, he nodded — an action so soft that you would have missed if not for the fact that your entire body was finetuned to his. at his action, your depraved hips caught up a lewd rhythm. grinding up and down, his flushed divot caught against your fraught spots and with each manic plunge.

"shi—" his usually downturned eyes widened for just a second, a restrained mewl lodged in the back of his throat as your greedy pussy sucked up the sloppy, spilling pre, "s-slower, baby."

but you just looked at him so dolefully — with your wretched, doe eyes tearing and lips quivering, "n-no."

"can't go slower?"

"don— don't want to."

and despite the tension etched into his sore muscles and the meagre patience, nagi laughed. plump lips curling up, he planted a careful hand on your soft waist to support your delicate figure, "that good?"

after an eternity of cockwarming, how could nagi seishiro even ask you if it was 'that' good? how could he ask that when practically each trivial stutter of his achy mushroom tip against your walls had you gasping for air and throwing your head back?

but you didn't have the coherence to say all that, so, clawing your nails down the same flexed deltoids, you nodded vigorously, "mhm— y-yeah, so good sei—"

with each nod, your body shivered and cunt mewled distraught at the way his cock split you apart at his sheer length.

bringing his quick fingers up to your face, nagi plucked away the damp strands of hair from your flushed face with a soft sigh. tucking the same stand behind your ears, nagi rolled his pelvis once and you fell forward onto his chest.

his lips ghosting over the shell of your eyes, the pro-player smiled, "having fun?"

nodding again, you stole another needy gyration or two as if nagi couldn't feel it, as if he couldn't feel you — you and your filthy, yearning pussy pulsating around his dick.

you heard the slightest click of his tongue, "'msorry then."

"f-for what..?" before you could raise your head to meet his eyes, or to question his words — nagi seishiro splayed his fingers against the fat of your hips and pulled you up and down on his whims.

with each nasty smack! of skin on skin, the man seemed to hit a deeper spot and you— oh, you were seeing stars.

head lolled, eyes rolling back and nails still digging into his flesh to mark him — you came on nagi's dick with a few, mean strokes into your heat, "jes—jesus fuck! se-i... sei— ohmygod—"

still now out of your orgasmic bliss, still caught up in the trance of his skin against yours, you almost jumped when you heard nagi seishiro whisper again, "'msorry. trust me, i am."

wobbling lips too tired to conjure up a reply, you just looked up to a strange, almost barbaric look flash in his irises. his hips snapped into yours, his cock ramming into your bruised walls with an inhumane force.

"sorry, babe." the pro-player breathed out a half-baked excuse, "sorry— think 'm gonna break this pretty pussy tonight."

and you didn't miss the slightly sadistic resonance in his words. oh no.

♡ oliver aiku!

fwb aren't supposed to do this, right??

"what d'you want?" you had slammed the door open to see the man of the very hour — oliver aiku — standing at your door, leaning against your wall all so nonchalantly as if it weren't three in the morning.

rolling your eyes, you regarded the tired man, "what? hoe no.3 busy that you had to come to me?"

"don't be ridiculous," aiku slipped past you and into the familiar apartment he had spent far too many nights in. his cadence dropped low, "you're hoe no.3."

although bitter syllables clung like dew onto your glossy lips, you closed the door behind you anyways. "what do you want? we didn't have any plans today, righ—"

"needed some help." and the former captain found himself turning on his heel to face you, "needed to blow off some steam. please."

well, plans be damned. this was the first time the oliver aiku had uttered the word 'please' to you.

"oh my god—" one of your fists clenching against the fabric of his shirt while the other rubbed desperate figures against your sloppy clit, you barely held your gaze steady against his heterochrome eyes.

he had been so desperate — oliver aiku had been so desperate — that the dress that you were wearing had been hastily bunched up on your waist, and his shirt had stayed on.

he had kissed you, and then he had kissed you again and again and again till his lips were bruised and swollen and his head wasn't quite screwed on right.

shoving your figure against the nearest wall, the man had caged you in with a forbidden whimper of your name. his muscles shook, eyes searching your salvaged form like a predator on hunt, "i tried going on a run, i hit the gym— fuck, didn't fucking help."

the clicking of the belt, followed by a swift shove within your velvety hole, and you heard the man audibly hiss at the feeling of his tense erection bruising your walls with every dragged out, filthy plunge. he mumbled false nothings, praying to a deity that would never answer, "i tried everything. b-but you—"

now, clenching his jaw, the former u-20 captain tightened his hold against one of your thighs, stretching the limb out so that he could fuck into your sopping cunt harder. all while another hand supported your crumbling figures against the creaking bed.

"too much? too much?" meeting your pelvis against his in a lewd dance, the man grunted out strained words, "sorry— 'msorry, tough... tough day today, ma."

"mhm," you nodded, your sugary lips falling into an easy pout, "'s okay, what's wr-rong?"

oliver scoffed — you and him were nothing more than a series of horny, reckless favours, and yet you were looking up at him like you meant your question.

usually, your sessions were fast-paced; the sound of skin on skin, damp hair, scratches down his skin and bruises blossoming on your skin where people could see — rabid animals in a wicked arrangement. that's all you two could ever be.

but today, his thrusts were slower, more calculated despite the anger that lingered in each movement of his lagged limbs. and if you had been in your senses, you could see the sliver of yearning in his eyes as he took in your shaking figure under his gaze.

"i—" words a wet gurgle, he tried to think of the reason he was fucking you like this — soo slow, like you meant something more, "s-shit match."

"oh— aah—a-aiku!" whatever reply you had thought of dissolved as oliver shoved his tongue in your mouth. the muscles caught in a lewd dance, the pro-player tried to shove down any thoughts. moaning against him, you sounded so sinful... did you always sound like aiku's demise or was he imagining things in his lucid state?

when he parted from you, the glistening strings lingered between you — a haunting sign of the way you were making him feel. so, obviously aiku just clutched your leg harder — almost bruising — and fucked into your cervix.

body moving mechanically, each crevice of his mind was occupied by you. how soft your skin felt under his skin, how warm you were, how your breath hitched with another orgasm knocking down your insides.

and as you threw your head back, exposing your shuddering neck and chest, you clenched your eyes like you always did. weak fingers kept rubbing frenzied circles onto your drenched cunt, rosy cheeks scrunched up in a forbidden delight — oliver had seen this scene so many times, then... why did he feel so utterly stupid looking at you?

didn't he come here to blow off steam..? and yet, the pro-player felt like he had found more things to be worried about as he found himself spilling the pearlescent fluid within your plush cunt.

well, nothing another round or two couldn't fix, right?

a/n: did you know aiku is his first name and oliver is his last?? bro. insane. anyways make isagi and bachira kiss u losers i know they wanna. also, im sowry cause i know some part is long and some isn't, i have been writing this over the course of many days, hence, the inconsistency in writing style and length :') tagging: @fantastically-imperfect @moodswing101 @isabellalovesyou @mininji @scara-simp69 @heartfeltstarry @actuallynarii <3 hope you enjoy mwuah mwuah <3 m.list

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon Riley was a man who was quiet in bed. Occasionally, you’d hear a soft groan, or a curse escape his lips as he buried himself further inside of you. But other than that he was relatively mute in the bedroom.

Tonight, you decided, would be different. You would do anything in your power to hear those sweet noises you just knew your husband could make.

He was above you, languidly and silently thrusting into you, save for a small grunt here or there. He was very much a man that liked to be in charge, liked to control the pace.

So to say he was surprised when you flipped both of you over, was an understatement. You hovered yourself over him, your soaked core practically dripping onto his cock.

Simon looked up at you with a hint of a smile dancing on his lips. “Well, this is a treat. You wanting to take charge, baby?”

You bit your lip softly as you got yourself comfortable, your fingers finding purchase on Simon’s chest. “Wanna make you feel good, Si.”

When you rammed yourself back down onto his thick length, Simon let out euphoric moan causing your walls to clench down around him. He sounded fucking heavenly, and you needed more of it.

“Need to hear you, Si, please.” You begged, your eyes fluttering shut as you continued your steady pace. You always loved this position, you loved when Simon let you be in control. You loved to be the one fucking him.

Simon gave you a wicked smile, his hands giving your hips a firm squeeze as he helped guide your hips. “That right, sweet girl? Does me making some noise make that pretty little pussy clench around me?”

You bit back a moan at his filthy words as your walls clenched around him once more, your nails digging crescents into Simon’s muscular chest. “P-please.”

“Go on then, love. Be a good girl and make me.” Simon was an absolute tease in the bedroom, but you fucking loved it.

Your hands found Simon’s, moving them up slowly so that they now rested on your breasts, his large hands completely encompassing each of them. The way he squeezed at the supple flesh had your wet walls closing down around his length, practically holding it in a vice grip.

Simon truly wanted to tease you further, he loved riling you up to the point where you’d get that cute pout he’d loved so damn much- but the way you looked fucking yourself stupid on his cock, mixed with the way your pussy felt just so fucking good clenched around him, he lost all his willpower.

“Fuck, that’s my girl. Taking my cock so fucking well.” Simon groaned, his pretty scarred lips falling open, his brow furrowing slightly. A string of moans left his mouth as you dug your nails further into his chest, the movement of your hips growing frenzied as you chased your high. “So good for me.”

Simon no longer bit back his moans, no longer held in his soft cries of pleasure, he became a grunting, groaning mess beneath you. The pleasure for him was overwhelming, between the way you took charge, the way you clenched around him and the way you yourself sounded? He was fucking ruined.

And you fucking loved it.

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. toji cannot wait to break in his virgin girlfriend—though until then, he’ll settle for simply teasing you until you’re a trembling mess.

tags. toji fushiguro x virgin!female reader. smut, pwp. age gap (reader early 20’s, toji early 30’s). corruption kink. dry humping? cum play. size difference. reader gets called ‘princess, doll’ queued

toji loves to tease you—you know that very well. he thrives off your reactions to his dirty words, the subtle yet naughty touches that he sneaks in during conversations, the seductive glint in his half lidded eyes whenever you’re around . . he knows what he’s doing.

even more so when you’re in his bed at night. you usually cuddle, sometimes make out and grind against each other, but nothing too lewd yet. toji doesn’t mind waiting to get a taste of you. he knows it will be worth the wait at the end.

but oh—is it difficult. so, so difficult. especially when you allow him access to more parts of your body.

“shit, princess,” he pants, hissing a bit when the mushroom tip of his cock bumps against your clothed clit, “y’re gettin’ so wet, huh? just by looking at my cock ‘n feeling it rub against your pussy.”

your cotton panties surely are damp with arousal; from both toji and you. his pre-cum mixes with your juices, ruining your favorite pair of panties. the wet spot forming near your slit only gets darker and darker the more you allow toji to rub his dick back and forth over your cunt.

“mngh—fuck. need you,” you whine, unable to fight the urge to buck your hips against his fat cock. your eyes dart up to your boyfriend to express your neediness, but he grabs your nape and guides your gaze back to his red tip pushing against your sloppy underwear.

toji lets out a dry chuckle. “i know y’ do. y’r pussy told me that long time ago,” he comments while he watches your adorable reactions to him pushing and pulling his cock from your clothed pussy. he’s only interested in you—the way your eyes glisten with tears and pleasure.

if it isn’t for his self control, he would have fucked you by now. but he’ll patiently wait until the perfect timing to push through that invisible wall, to pop your cherry while he looks you in the eyes, taking that innocence from you that he oh-so loves.

“want my cock, doll?” toji asks with a wicked grin. his large hands runs over your chest to your tummy. he guides his shaft over to your belly, measuring how much of your insides it would fill. “mm, yeah—would mess you up pretty bad,” he hums as the tip reaches your belly button. even further than that.

the thought excites the older man. to be your first, the first man who’ll mould your pussy to only fit his cock. no one else will have the honor of stripping you from your virginity.

“want it. want it all the way inside me,” you reply back, voice shaking with excitement. you’re going to cum soon from him simply grinding against your clothed cunt. your poor clit is continuously being circled and bumped against by his tip and it’s driving you crazy.

toji swallows thickly. “don’t ya tempt me like that,” he warns you in a dark tone. he runs a rough finger over your wet panties, keeping your legs spread wide with his knees. he easily finds your little hole as the cotton material sticks to your pussy, showing the outlines of your lips.

“might just push in here. .” toji murmurs as he positions the leaking head of his dick against your covered entrance, “. . and fill you up while hearing you scream my name. sounds good, ay?”

you gasp and feel your cunt clench around nothing. his hips move back and forth, shallow thrusts against the barrier that is your panties, mimicking the real thing. “y-yeah—oh, ‘m g’nna cum,” your heart rate picks up as your back arches off the mattress.

toji raises an eyebrow, secretly finding it endearing how that is the action that pushes you over the edge. you’re so adorable; simply thinking of him actually fucking you senseless and the feeling of his tip seeking your pussy is enough.

“aww, she’s gonna cum,” the dark-haired man snickers after mocking you. toji gauges your reactions and grins when he sees your head rolling back against the pillow.

“do y’ wanna cum together? we can,” he smirks as he leans down to intertwine your hands—playing the role of the gentle boyfriend who’s having sex with his girlfriend for the first time. he’s trying to give you the full experience while not actually giving it to you yet.

“y-yes, wanna cum together,” you nod mindlessly, your mouth feeling dry. you squeeze your eyes shut while also holding tightly onto toji’s hand. your pussy tightens up around air while your hips buck up to meet toji’s thrusts against your covered, wet hole.

“c-close—ngh, toji!” your eyes widen once his tip pressing snugly between your pussy lips. for a second it felt like his cock had successfully breached through your panties. that short-lived moment is enough to push you over the edge and cum on spot.

toji witnesses the bliss in your facial expression and he groans. “fuckkk—take it. g’nna cum all over ya princess,” he presses his hips firmly against yours, his full length resting right between your wet folds, ropes of cum spurting out of his aching tip.

you feel the sticky liquid stain your belly, running down to the waistband of your panties and even staining the front part. your choked up moans are music to your boyfriend’s ears while he calms down from his own orgasm.

his big biceps tremble as he holds himself up above you, grinning from ear to ear. “keheh, made a mess out of you,” toji’s voice is filled with pride. he lets you cling onto him for as long as you need to.

his eyes dart down to the sticky mess on your tummy and panties. the older man leans back on his knees to admire the view. he really couldn’t wait to actually slide inside of your tight cunt—but this will suffice for now. the sight of his cute girlfriend trembling and whimpering beneath him makes up for everything.

his fingers hook around the waistband of your panties. “can i look, doll?” toji asks in a gruff voice, desparate to see your glistening cunt. you weakly nod and he doesn’t waste any more time.

the sight greeting him when he pulls your underwear down is nearly enough to make him cum again. your juices are everywhere, multiple strings of wetness connecting your pussy to your panties. they snap one after the other as your panties are slowly removed.

“oh, y’re such a messy girl,” toji sighs, leaning down to kiss your tummy, licking up some of his own cum. you shiver and your hands dart out to hold onto his black hair. he chuckles at the gesture, humming in acknowledgement.

his eyes darken when he catches a glimpse of your sopping pussy again. he’s so close to it — so extremely close. his gaze darts over to a drop of his cum that threatens to slide down and over your clit. the heat and smell of your cunt is driving that man to the brink of insanity.

toji lolls his tongue out, eyes glistening with desire while he pushes your legs up and over his shoulders, big hands holding onto your hips. drool gathers in the corners of his mouth as his face hovers right between your legs;

“mind if i have a taste of you, princess? jus’ a quick one, i promise.”

[bootmilk]

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . sylus' abyss. smut . sheノher — x reader ノ dub con . rough sex . knotting . degradation ノ size kink ノ corruption . overstim ノ blocking minors and blank or ageless blogs…

The ruins pulsed with a dark, living energy, the Abyss whispering in tongues long since lost to time. The air was thick, pressing against your skin, heavy with something more than heat—something ancient, something hungry. And at the center of it all, standing amidst the twisting, writhing shadows, was him.

Sylus.

He loomed before you, bathed in the eerie glow of abyssal light, his bare chest a masterpiece of raw strength and power. The deep ridges of his abs flexed with every breath, his muscles taut beneath obsidian skin, marked by pulsing veins of corruption. His long, curled horns cast jagged shadows against the walls, framing the wicked smirk tugging at his lips. His claws—long, black, and wickedly sharp—flexed at his sides, itching, waiting.

And then there was his tail.

Thick, powerful, covered in smooth abyssal plating that gleamed under the dim light, it twitched at his back, restless. The sharp tip coiled and uncoiled like a serpent waiting to strike. Then, without warning—CRACK.

It snapped against the stone floor, loud as a whip, the force shaking dust loose from the walls. You flinched. Your breath hitched.

And Sylus laughed.

“Skittish little thing,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. His red eyes gleamed as he stepped forward, slow, deliberate, his tail lashing again, this time closer, the sharp tip grazing your ankle. “But you’re still here.”

He tilted his head, horns gleaming in the dim light.

“Tell me…” His claws dragged lightly up your arm, over your shoulder, teasing the base of your throat. His chest was so close, heat radiating from his body, the Abyss pulsing with him. “Are you shaking because you’re afraid?”

You swallowed hard, your whole body tensed, burning under the weight of his gaze.

Then, soft—breathless—

“No.”

Sylus grinned.

And then everything snapped.

One moment, he was toying with you—the next, he had you pinned. His claws tangled in your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your throat to his hungry gaze. His body pressed flush against yours, nothing but heat and muscle and barely restrained power.

His tail curled around your waist, locking you in place. You gasped, feeling the ridges press into your skin, the plated segments flexing, tightening. You weren’t going anywhere.

“Smart answer,” he purred, dragging his lips down your jaw, your pulse hammering beneath his mouth. His claws trailed lower, over the curve of your hip, teasing at the edge of your clothes. “But let’s see if that confidence lasts.”

With one sharp motion, his claws tore through the fabric, shredding it like paper, leaving you bare beneath him. The cool air sent a shudder through you, but Sylus was already there, his hands, his tail, his heat swallowing you whole.

His tail uncurled from your waist—only to wrap around your thigh instead, spreading you wider. The plated ridges flexed, holding you open, vulnerable, exposed.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dragging a single claw over your inner thigh, making you shiver. “Dripping for me already. Needy little thing.”

You should have been embarrassed. But the way he looked at you—the way his tail tightened, the way his cock pressed against you, hot, heavy, thick—made shame the last thing on your mind.

And god, he was huge.

The length of him pulsed against your slick folds, teasing, spreading your wetness as he rutted against you, smearing himself over your skin. The heat of him was unbearable, the ridges along his cock dragging against your clit, sending sparks up your spine.

But it was the knot that made your breath catch.

Thick, swollen, not yet fully engorged, but already pressing against you with the promise of something brutal. Something meant to keep you claimed.

Sylus saw the way your eyes widened, the way your thighs clenched around him, and he grinned.

“Realizing what you got yourself into?” he taunted, voice a low, dangerous drawl. “It’s too late to back out now.”

And then he slammed into you.

The stretch was excruciating.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as he filled you in one brutal thrust, your body struggling to take him, to accommodate the sheer size of him. The thick ridges along his cock dragged against your walls, each one forcing you open wider, deeper, spreading you until there was nowhere left to go.

“Fuck,” Sylus groaned, his grip on your hips tightening, claws pressing into your skin. His tail coiled around you tighter, the ridges flexing, locking you in place. “So tight.”

He pulled back.

Then slammed in harder.

The wet slap of skin on skin echoed through the ruins, mixing with your broken gasps, your ragged moans, the sharp crack of his tail striking the stone every time he thrust deeper.

His horns bumped against your forehead, his breath hot against your lips. “You like this,” he growled. “Being stretched. Being ruined.”

Your nails clawed at his arms, finding no purchase against his unyielding body. And still, you gasped—desperate, shattered—

“Yes—fuck, yes—”

A dark snarl tore from Sylus’ throat. His grip turned bruising. His thrusts became relentless.

And then—you felt it.

The knot.

It pressed against your entrance, stretching you even further, pulsing, growing. Your breath hitched, realization crashing over you.

He wasn’t going to let you go.

Sylus groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Gonna take it,” he muttered, half a command, half a promise. “Gonna lock you onto me. Keep you full. Keep you mine.”

You gasped, legs trembling, pleasure coiling too fast in your stomach, unbearable, inevitable—

“Cum for me,” he growled, voice ragged, desperate. “Now.”

His tail snapped against the stone one last time—CRACK.

And you broke.

Pleasure slammed into you, white-hot and all-consuming, your walls clenching around him, milking him, pulling him deeper. Sylus snarled, his body tensing, his claws digging in as he gave one final, brutal thrust—

And locked inside you.

The knot swelled, stretching you past your limit, sealing you onto him, ensuring that every hot, shuddering pulse of his release stayed deep inside you. His cock throbbed, filling you, claiming you, branding you from the inside out.

Sylus groaned, his tail tightening around you, his lips dragging over your temple. His breath was heavy, his body still trembling from the aftershocks, but his grip on you never loosened.

When he finally lifted his head, his red eyes gleamed with satisfaction. His claws trailed lazily over your hip, smearing his own release against your skin.

“You’re not walking after this,” he murmured, smirking. “And we’re not done.”

His tail curled possessively around your waist, the ridges flexing again, locking you in place.

“You’re gonna take every drop.”

Your body trembled violently, your muscles clenching around him in aftershocks, and Sylus groaned low in his throat, his tail curling even tighter around your waist, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“You feel that?” His voice was hoarse, wrecked with pleasure, his claws ghosting over your sweat-damp skin, tracing lazy circles against your thigh. His breath was hot against your temple, sending shivers cascading down your spine. “That’s me, rooted inside you.” His fingers curled possessively into your hip, sharp claws leaving faint indentations. “You’re not going anywhere.”

As if to prove his point, his tail flexed, the ridged plating pressing into your lower stomach, pinning you back against the stone wall with an iron grip. You whimpered, still struggling to breathe through the relentless fullness, your mind swimming in the haze of overstimulation.

It wasn’t enough for Sylus.

He shifted his hips slightly, testing, grinding his knot against your already-stretched entrance, dragging another shudder from you. The pressure made you clench around him involuntarily, your body betraying just how much you loved being stretched like this, stuffed to the brim with no escape.

Sylus felt it. And he fucking laughed.

“Oh, you like this, don’t you?” His voice was pure satisfaction, laced with dark amusement. He pressed a slow, rolling thrust into you—not to fuck you, not yet. Just enough to remind you that you were his, that you had no choice but to take it.

You gasped, body jerking, and his arms tightened around you, keeping you from slipping away. “Fuck—Sylus, I can’t—”

“You can,” he corrected smoothly, dragging his tongue up the side of your throat, savoring the way you trembled beneath him. “And you will.”

His knot pulsed inside you, a steady, rhythmic pressure that had your whole body on edge, your nerves raw and sensitive. You couldn’t move—not with how locked you were onto him, not with how thoroughly his tail pinned you in place. Every breath, every faint twitch sent another ripple of sensation through you, making your head spin.

Sylus enjoyed your helplessness.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re still shaking.” His claws trailed down your stomach, featherlight but teasing, stopping just above where you were stretched wide around his cock. “But not from fear. No—” His voice dropped to a low, wicked murmur. “—you’re trembling because you need more.”

Your breath hitched.

You hated that he was right.

Sylus knew it too.

Without warning, his tail snapped against your ass—sharp, loud, the impact sending a sharp jolt through your oversensitive nerves. You yelped, the sting melting into a deep, unbearable pleasure that made your body clench around him.

And that was it. That was all it took to break him.

With a guttural growl, Sylus moved.

Even with his knot locked inside, even with your body stretched impossibly wide, he fucked you through it. Slow, deep grinds at first, his cock throbbing, his breath ragged as he forced you to feel every inch of him. You could do nothing but take it, helpless against the raw power pressing you into the wall.

Then he snapped.

His claws tightened on your hips as he fucked into you, not pulling out fully—he couldn’t, not with how swollen his knot had become. But that didn’t stop him. He rutted against you in short, brutal thrusts, his thick cock grinding against your sweet spot, dragging fresh waves of overstimulation from your already-wrecked body.

You sobbed—pleasure bordering on pain, your body shaking violently as another orgasm threatened to consume you.

“Sylus—” You choked out his name, hands clawing at his bare chest, searching for something—anything—to anchor you.

He caught one of your wrists, dragging your palm down over his abs, forcing you to feel how hard his body was, how every muscle flexed and rippled with each movement. “Hold onto me,” he ordered. “I want you to feel what’s fucking you.”

Your fingers clenched against his stomach, nails raking over the smooth planes of muscle.

Then—he thrust just right.

Your vision blurred.

A scream ripped from your throat as your climax hit you like a tidal wave, drowning you, pulling you under. Your walls clenched violently around his cock, milking him, your whole body convulsing in raw, mind-shattering pleasure.

Sylus groaned, his horns pressing against your forehead, his breath shuddering as he tipped over the edge with you.

“Fucking—mine,” he snarled, slamming deep one last time, burying himself as far as he could go, his knot pulsing inside you as he came. His cock throbbed, thick spurts of heat flooding you, filling you so full it was dizzying. You could feel everything—how he stretched you, how his knot kept his release inside, how his tail tightened, shuddering against your thigh as he claimed you.

And it didn’t stop.

He was still throbbing inside you, still spilling inside you, his knot ensuring that nothing leaked out, that you stayed filled with him, that his seed stuck.

Sylus groaned against your neck, breathless, his body still trembling from the force of it.

Then, slowly, he laughed.

Dark, satisfied. Possessive.

“You’re wrecked,” he murmured, tilting your chin up with a clawed finger, forcing you to meet his gaze. His red eyes gleamed with triumph, taking in the way your body trembled against him, the way you twitched around his knot, overstimulated, raw.

His tail unwound from your thigh—only to curl possessively around your waist again, keeping you close.

“I hope you weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon.”

You swallowed hard, barely able to think, let alone respond. Your breath was uneven, your legs numb.

Sylus chuckled, brushing his thumb over your lips before leaning in, letting his fangs graze your throat.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

His tail flexed. His knot pulsed.

And you knew—

Neither of you were stopping until he’d made sure you couldn’t walk.

[tokkiwrites]

game show host!joel miller x contestant f! reader ▪︎summary: it's the late 1970s, and you're fresh out of college. for your graduation gift, your parents got you a special ticket to be part of your favorite game show, 'Love Jive'. They didn't know you didn't like the show itselfㅡ but it's smooth talking MC, Joel Miller. ▪︎tags: pwp, age gap (pretty hefty one), super flirty joel, shy/lovestruck reader, afab!reader, pet names galore!!, p in v (unprotected), mirror sex kind of, slight breeding kink, creampie, joel kind of has an innocence kink idk.

▪︎this has been sitting in my drafts for two months now. Hopefully, you enjoy this short and silly 2.45k words one. There is no plot for it honestly, just thought it would be a cute concept. maybe a series might come from it. Who knows? anyway!!! love ya!!

It was the summer of 1979, and the air felt heavy with possibility. You were fresh out of college, diploma in hand, and ready to take on the world—or at least that’s what you told yourself when your parents asked what came next.

Their graduation gift to you? A surprise ticket to Love Jive, the hottest game show on TV. You’d tried to hide your awkward smile when they handed it over, the envelope sparkling with glitter that matched the show’s logo. What they didn’t know was that it wasn’t the show’s ridiculous premise that had you tuning in every week.

It was him.

Joel Miller.

The man was a legend, smooth as honey and twice as sweet. The way his Texan drawl slid over those ridiculous love-related catchphrases? You swore it had ruined you for men your own age. He had to be at least twenty years older than you, but that salt-and-pepper hair, that sly smile, those broad shoulders stretching under his velvet blazer? They didn’t make men like Joel Miller anymore.

So here you were, standing nervously behind the curtain in the Love Jive studio.

“Contestants, ready?” a stagehand called.

Your stomach did a flip as the warm-up announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. The audience clapped and cheered, the excitement infectious. Before you could second-guess yourself, the curtain lifted, and the stage lights bathed you in gold.

And there he was.

Joel Miller stood center stage, microphone in hand, looking like he owned the room— and maybe he did. That million-watt smile lit up his face, his dark eyes sweeping the contestants before landing on you. He did a double take so subtle you almost missed it, but when his smile softened just a fraction, your heart skipped a beat.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” His voice rolled through the air like warm molasses, drawing chuckles from the crowd. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some fine contestants tonight. Y’all ready to find love and maybe a little bit of fun?”

The audience erupted in cheers, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to join them. Not when Joel Miller was staring at you like you were the most interesting thing in the room.

“And what’s your name, darlin’?” Joel asked, pointing the microphone toward you.

You blinked, mouth suddenly dry. “Uh—uh, it’s—” You blurted out your name, voice cracking slightly. Joel chuckled, low and smooth, his dimples deepening as he grinned. “Well now, ain’t you just the sweetest thing. Y’all hear that? Even her name’s cute as a button.”

The crowd ooh’d and ahh’d, but Joel’s gaze stayed locked on you.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning ever so slightly closer, “what brings a lovely little thing like you to Love Jive? Lookin’ for romance? Or just here for the spectacle?” Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you prayed the lights were too bright for anyone to notice. “Um, I—I guess you could say both?”

Joel’s eyebrows lifted, and his grin turned downright wicked. “Both, huh? Well, darlin’, I can promise you this much—you’re in for one hell of a show.” The crowd roared their approval as Joel winked at you, leaving your heart thundering in your chest. You’d come to Love Jive expecting to admire Joel Miller from afar. You hadn’t counted on becoming the center of his attention.

And as the game began, one thing became crystal clear: Joel wasn’t just hosting tonight. He was playing a game of his own— and you were the prize he had his sights set on.

Fast forward to the 15-minute commercial break.

The knock on the door came firmly, pulling you out of your flustered thoughts. You glanced at the mirror, smoothing down your blouse and trying to will away the redness on your cheeks. “Come in,” you called out, voice trembling slightly.

The door creaked open, and in stepped Joel Miller, the man of all your desires.

The sight of him so close took your breath away. He leaned casually against the doorframe for a moment, his dark eyes settling on you. His smile, warm and teasing, was the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. “Well, there you are,” he drawled, his voice like velvet. “Thought I’d come check on you, see how my favorite contestant’s holdin’ up.” You blinked, trying to find your voice. “Oh, uh—fine! I’m fine,” you stammered, your hands twisting nervously.

Joel stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The dressing room wasn’t large to begin with, and his presence filled it completely, making the space feel even smaller.

“Fine, huh?” he said, leaning against the vanity, his arms crossing casually over his chest. “Can’t blame you for bein’ a little flustered. All those lights, all those people… and me.” His grin turned teasing, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest moment. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. “It’s not—I mean, you’re not—”

“Sweetheart, relax,” Joel interrupted, his voice a low chuckle. “I’m just messin’ with you.” His eyes softened, and he tilted his head. “But if I’m bein’ honest, you’ve got somethin’ about you. That’s got me wonderin’ if maybe I’m the one a little flustered tonight.”

Your heart skipped at his words. “Me?” you asked, disbelief clear in your voice. Joel’s grin deepened, his dimples on full display. “Yeah, you,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. He stepped closer, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Pretty little thing like you walkin’ in here, lookin’ all sweet and innocent, got every man in the audience wishin’ he was sittin' in my shoes tonight.” You felt like your face might catch fire. “I don’t think that’s true,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel reached out, gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at him. His hand was warm and firm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Well, I do,” he said softly, his dark eyes holding yours. “And I don’t say things I don’t mean, sweet girl."

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping even lower. “I was thinkin’... maybe once this show wraps up, you and I could get outta here. Go somewhere quiet. Just you and me.” Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you felt dizzy under his gaze. “You mean… like a date?”

Joel chuckled, the sound rich and deep. “Exactly like a date,” he murmured. “What do you say, sweetheart?” You nodded before you could overthink it, your shy smile breaking free. “I’d really like that.” Joel’s grin turned downright wicked. “Good,” he drawled, his hand sliding to cradle your cheek. “’Cause I’ve been dyin’ to do this all night.”

Before you could say another word, Joel leaned in and kissed you. His lips were warm and sure, moving against yours with a perfect mix of confidence and tenderness. You felt your hands instinctively grip the vanity behind you, your knees going weak as his other hand settled lightly on your waist.

The kiss lingered, soft and sweet, but with just enough heat to leave your head all dizzy. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Damn,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, “even better than I imagined.” You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you, shy and giddy all at once. “You imagined kissing me?”

Joel grinned, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Oh, I imagined far more than kissing you, darlin’. Hard not to when you look at me the way you do.” Your heart felt like it might burst, but before you could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the door. “Mr. Miller, we’re back in two!”

Joel sighed dramatically, giving you a wink as he stepped back. “Guess I better get back to work,” he said, his tone light but his eyes still lingering on you. “Don’t go runnin’ off after the show, y’hear? I’m not done with you yet.” You nodded, still too flustered to form a coherent sentence. With one last smirk, Joel turned and strolled out the door, leaving you breathless.

The show had ended in a blur of applause, flashing lights, and the announcer’s booming voice thanking everyone for watching. Contestants and crew mingled briefly as everyone prepared to leave. You’d just stepped to the side of the stage when one of the other contestants, a bubbly blonde in a bright orange jumpsuit, sidled up to you with a knowing smile.

“Well, well, well,” she teased, nudging you with her elbow. “Looks like you really got Mister Smooth swooning all over ya.”

You blinked, startled. “What? No, I don’t think—”

“Oh, honey,” she interrupted with a laugh, crossing her arms. “Everyone could see the way he was devouring you with his eyes. I swear, I was worried he might forget the rest of us were even there.” Your face went hot, and you shook your head quickly. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure,” she said with a wink, already walking away. “If by ‘imagining things,’ you mean watching him look at you like you hung the moon. Enjoy it, sweetie. A man like Joel Miller doesn’t come around every day.”

Her words echoed in your head as you made your way back to your dressing room. Closing the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, desperate for a moment to collect yourself. The quiet was a relief after the chaos of the show. You slipped out of your stage outfit and into the dress you’d brought for afterward. A soft yellow dress with bell sleeves, a cinched waist, and a flowing A-line skirt covered in a delicate floral print. It felt like something out of a sunny dream, and you hoped it might give you a touch of the confidence you sorely lacked.

You were smoothing the fabric over your hips when the door opened without warning.

“Oh, wow.” The single word made you whirl around. There he was. Joel Miller, standing in the doorway. His tie was loosened, his shirt collar slightly unbuttoned, and his dark eyes were locked on you. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, the words leaving his lips like a breath. Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you managed a shy smile. “Oh, it’s just… just a dress,” you murmured, brushing your hands nervously over the skirt.

Joel stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he approached. His gaze was unwavering, taking you in like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Just a dress, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you could be wearin’ a paper bag, and you’d still be the most beautiful thing in the room.” You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Joel stopped in front of you, lifting a hand to gently cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, his touch warm and steady.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, before closing the space between you.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. Where the earlier kiss had been soft and tentative, this one was sure, filled with hunger and intent. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a passion that made your knees weak.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak— only feel. His touch, his warmth, the way he held you like you were something rare. “Been thinkin’ about doin’ that since the first time I saw you,” he admitted, his voice rough.

You let out a breathless laugh, your hands clutching the lapels of his jacket for balance. “You’ve kissed me twice tonight, Joel,” you teased, your voice trembling slightly. Joel grinned, his dimples making an appearance. “Yeah, I have a soft spot for sweet girls like yourself. ” he said before pausing shortly. “And if you’ll let me, darlin’, I’d be doin' a lot more than kissing you.”

Stopping him was the furthest thing from your mind.

"I'll let you.."

Without thinking, you tilt your head up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of submission and maybe a little defiance. His eyes darken, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he's won some battle. " You're a good girl," he breathes, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. The contact sends sparks through you, and your skin burns where he touches. Without any hesitation, he spins both of you so that you are facing the large golden mirror above the counter. Joel groans, rolling his shoulders back as he bends you over the vanity, your hips snug in his grip. "God, you're so fuckin' gorgeous, angel."

you look down. "Please.." The man shakes his head and lands a hard smack on one of your asscheeks, making you yelp in the process. He takes his time pulling up your flowy dress, finally taking a look at your soaking panties, white with laced blue details. "Fuck, look at her." His calloused thumb makes contact with your clothed folds, dragging it up and down, in painfully slow circles. In mere seconds, you hear the material rip and then feel the flimsy undergarments fall on the cold tiled floor.

"What a pretty pussy." he mutters under his breath, undoing his trousers. he pulls them a bit down, enough for his manhood to spring free and slap against his covered bellybutton. you can see it all in the mirrorㅡ it's huge, to say the least. you gasp softly as you feel him drag the wet tip of it against your swollen bud, and you hide your gaze, head hanging low in embarrassment. this doesn't last long, as his rough palm grabs at your face pulling it up again. you're making eye contact with him through the lit up mirror and you see him shake his head. "No, baby. You watch while I wreck this pussy, understand?" you shake your head, agreeing, but that isn't good enough so he slaps your cheek with the back of his hand, lightly.

"Speak, sweetheart." you breathe out. "Yes, Joel." he drags the pulsing tip up and down, up and down as if he didn't make you wait long enough. truthfully you never wanted it to end, so maybe him teasing was his way of making sure this lasts. after he thinks its sufficient, Joel starts to push inside, and godㅡ your breath gets stuck into your throat, from the feeling laden with thorns. every prick of discomfort is soon replaced by an unexpected surge of delight.

Your tears fall down onto the surface under you, little moans gripping your throat as he slips inside further. "You're alright..." he assures you, asking you to surrender.

"Take it all. Atta girl, just like that..." he praises, lifting your hips a bit to get a better angle. Joel moves gently at first, each stroke hitting deeper within your core, the pain soon converging with ecstasy right as he alerts his movements. His hips dive down with force, one of his palms snaking up and wrapping itself tightly around your throat, assuring you see how good he's destroying you.

Your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole weight dominated over you. "That's it, little girl, look how tight she's suckin' me in." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each time. your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made wrapped around him.

"Oh, god, please.." You manage. pulling at your hair, he starts chuckling. "Am I your god, baby? Ya like beggin'?" While thrusting relentlessly into you, jelly like legs barely holding you up anymore, your knees buckle. Feeling you tightening, the hand that was around your throat slips down to your clit, while the other makes you spread your legs wide again for easier access, this allowed you to take in a big gulp of air before you feel him deeper in your guts.

"Want me to breed this young pussy, huh? Fill you up with my babies? let people inside this roomㅡ let them film it for the whole world to see?" the room spins around you, vision blurry with tears and brain all fuzzy. you try your best to reply. "yes, oh, p-lease, please! "

"Go ahead." the man succeeded to say, between his breathy groans. "Thank you, thank you, oh god, thank you so much, Joel!" you cry out, praying to him whilst he keeps fucking into your pulsing cunt. The man buries himself into you as you come down from your high, body almost too limp to register your surroundings. then he slaps your ass, and watches you writhe under him. You looked perfect, like a carved our porcelain doll. With a few more snaps of his hips you feel he's close, his nails digging roughly into your skin as he finally paints your velvet walls with white ropes of come. "God fuckin'ㅡ!" you know that will leave bruises.

the dressing room feels sticky, and the mirror in front of you is all fogged up, but you can just barely make out your face, all tearstained and messy. You moan as he pulls out, the sudden feeling of emptiness leaving you shivering. Joel watches intently as his seed drips out of you, your body beautifully splayed out right under him like the most beautiful piece of art.

You're both quiet for a bit, before he breaks the silence. "You're still up for that date, little lady?"

[amaranthinespirit]

professor!simon riley ruining his goody-two shoes student cw: teacher-student relationship (all parties are of age) inspired by this post from @ebodebo

you were a good student, an eager to please college attendee that most people couldn't stand. studious and stupidly-smart, studies wise anyway.

most of your teachers liked you. how could they not? you reached the bar in their class, hell, you even raised it. but that couldn't be said about every class you took. you had this one professor who couldn't stand you, and you couldn't either.

professor riley was lazy in your eyes, he didn't give you, the class, enough, whether it was in terms of school work or personality, the daunting man was an enigma, and the epitome of gloom. perhaps he was suppressed with melancholy, but that wasn't your issue to deal with, you just wanted him to give a damn.

but maybe lazy wasn't the right word to label him as because he certainly wasn't, in terms of physique anyway. you shook your head at the thought, disgust crossing your face whenever you caught yourself thinking as such.

he wasn't lazy, professor riley knew his stuff, but you always had to do extra studying outside of his class to even understand the material. it was like you were teaching yourself, and that was not an easy feat.

it also didn't help that when you got one of your exams handed back to you, your eyes were sparked with anticipation as the paper landed on your desk, you couldn't wait to see-

a 69%?

how could this be? you studied meticulously for hours, combing through all the material you were sure was going on the test, but you got a 'd'?

your face was knit with confusion, brows furrowed deeply as you flipped through the pages. every single question marked right, did professor riley suffer from amnesia before grading your test? or rather, when putting the mark on the front page?

you were fuming, glaring up to see that wicked smirk pulling at his lips as your eyes locked. you felt more than petty loathing, more than just not standing him.

it was later, classes are out and no students lingered in the building, but professor riley's office hours remained open, and now you took advantage of it. you grasped your wrongfully marked exam tightly in your fist, creasing the paper under your palm as you stomped into his room.

there he sat, in the dark with only a dim lamp, hunched over his desk grading more papers, wrongfully marking them most likely. he heard the heavy footsteps and the echo that followed you, glancing up at you, a ghost of a smile cursing his lips.

he leaned back in his office chair, the hinges squeaking under his weight as he set down his fancy fountain pen, "evenin', unusual t'see ya durin' m'office hours, what can I do f'ya?" his voice was gruff, heavy with exhaustion and eyes in need of sleep as they trailed over your flushed face.

your body was flushed and radiated heat, chest slightly heaving from the walk over. it didn't help with his gaze on your figure, eyes basically scrutinizing you as you stood in front of his teacher's desk, "sir, i'd like to talk to you about the exam," you spoke through gritted teeth, looking down at him as you swallowed thickly.

you were looking for answers because certainly you found the right ones on your test, but for some reason, he fucked you over. but with the way his eyes seemed to linger, maybe he was looking for more.

though his eyes lit up in realization, a grin breaking out onto his lips as he hummed lowly, looking you over, "ah, yes, was there a specific question y'were lookin' to-"

before he could finish, you slammed the test down onto his desk, the bright red pen that displayed the grade glaring up at him. you acted without thinking, impulsive and brass.

your voice was raised, without a doubt, angry and hostile, "more like the whole damn test, a 68 percent?" you took a deep breath, chest heaving as you cross your arms against it, "i know i did better than a 'd', sir."

he merely scoffed, he couldn't believe the audacity you had to speak to your professor like that. he glanced down at the test before looking back up at you, his eyes betraying no emotion, not a hint of sympathy or kindness behind the amber of his iris, "yeah, y'did." he answered simply.

you looked to him with further confusion, eyes widening ever so slightly, "so why is my grade so low?"

"felt like you needed it." he shrugged it off so casually, it made your blood boil. his audacity to mark your test so low because he felt like it? no, no, felt like you needed it?

you scoffed in disbelief, taking a step towards his desk, "riley-"

he cut you off in correction, "professor. riley." he paused between the two simple words, heavy emphasis. you wouldn't let him see the falter in your expression at his firm correction show how his tone made your stomach twist and thighs clench.

"professor riley," you adhered to his corrections as you took another breath to calm yourself from more than just anger, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. "it's not fair! you can't just give me a bad grade because you feel like it!"

he watched as you raised your hands as you spoke, slapping back down to your thighs as his gaze followed your gestures, lingering at the bare skin of your legs.

you gulped at his heavy gaze, feeling your skin crawl where his eyes seem to linger, goosebumps rising along your even skin. he seemed to notice the way your thighs clenched together, your stiff posture uncomfortable and awkward, fingers flexing at your side.

"but I did, so what do you plan to do about it?" he cocks his head to the side, a silent challenge to you as your eyes narrow. he can't deny that you irk him, such a pretty little thing practically begging for validation, validation he didn't want to give you. he also can't deny the way he fucks his fat cock into his fist, aching and throbbing angrily at the thought of you.

before you can answer his question, he asks another, "d'you touch yer'self thinkin' abo'me, love?" his tone is sly like he's got the upper hand as he leans back casually, elbow propped on his desk.

the question stuns you, renders your english useless as your jaw falls open, looking at him in silence as you can do nothing but stutter hopelessly. though, you can't deny the subtle flutter of your pussy in your lacy underwear, clenching around nothing as slick drools from your slit.

the question grinds the gears in your head, puts you back to the many late nights with your fingers plunging into your drenched cunt, small fingers, imagining they were his lengthy, thick digits, only barely managing to graze that spongy spot deep in your pussy. his name, full of loathe, falling from your lips in a soft mewl as you cum, release coating your skin.

he merely chuckles at your stutters and zoned out gaze, "guess that answers it," his shoulders shake with his huffs of laughs that he disguised as unevens breath, "you're a good student, y'know that? surely, ya do, swee'eart, or ya wouldn't be 'ere."

neither of you speak for a second after his words, letting them hang in the air as it grows thick with tension, tension that's built up since the first day of classes. unbeknownst to each other, you'd been getting off to the idea of one another for weeks, channeling your hatred into self pleasure in a form of denial.

it's weird to finger yourself to the idea of your professor, but he's hot! he's tall, brooding and tatted with a thick accent, not to mention smart. but gross, he's your professor! decades older than you, surely, and not interested in a girl like you, his student, no less.

the tension further mounts, and he decides to speak up when he realizes you aren't going to say anything, still too stunned, "tell ya what, y'can earn yer grade back by givin' me a nice blo'job."

his words are blunt, turning your throat dry, but also making you salivate at the thought, your eyes subconsciously trailing down his button-up shirt down to his slacks. you gulp at the tightness that seems to pull at the material, bulging slightly at the seams.

you don't know what to say. you should say no, and you have no clue why you hadn't yet, why you hadn't turned and ran out the door at such disgusting words leaving your teacher's mouth, but you can't help but feel excited at the thought, oh it's so wrong, but so exhilarating.

still, you can't find the courage to accept the offer, no matter how much you wanted to raise your grade, so you stumble nervously over your words, "sir, I don't know-"

"you're such a goody-two shoes, no?" he asks, eyebrows lifted in confusion. you wouldn't call yourself a goody-two shoes if it was up to you, but you knew that's how others see you, and so does he. "so be a good girl and get on your knees," he finishes, big, veined hands slowly moving to his belt, unclasping it.

the sound fills the empty class, and suddenly your heart's in your throat, and your body's moving on its own. why are you listening to him? do you seriously crave validation so much? from your professor, no less.

"atta'girl," he cooed, gathering your hair in his large hand, wrapping the strands around his palm as he held your head firmly in front of him. he watches your nervous gaze, pretty doe eyes staring up at him with uncertainty. god, you really needed him to guide you, fuelled by guidance and praise. "put yer hands on'me, swee'eart."

your dainty hands slid up onto his knees, fingers drumming against his lower thigh in an anxious outlet. though, despite your uncertainty, you seemed to be guided by adrenaline, going off the hours of teacher-student porn you watched alone in your dorm room when your dorm mate was out.

tracing along the inner seams of his dark trousers, until you reached his crotch. you felt the way he twitched through the fabric at your unsure, naive touch, his bulge tightly straining against his pants.

you felt more confident the more you touched him, especially as his breaths started to get more laboured the higher up you touched and teased him, priding welling up in your chest that only encouraged you further. a sweet smirk on your face as you slowly unzipped his trousers, freeing him from the confines of the tight fabric.

you salivated at the sight, subconsciously biting your lip as you eyed the thick veins that decorated his pretty, pink cock. the sticky pre that coated his boxers, leaking and oozing from his angry tip. he was hard, and hung.

he chuckled breathlessly as the way your throat bobbed, no doubt a nervous gulp traveling down your esophagus as you eyed the size of him. you weren't even sure you could fit your lips around him, much less your weeping pussy that gushed at the sight.

"c'mon, love, 's not a starin' contest, is't?" he joked with a breathy huff, a rough finger caressing your cheek as he eased your gaze away from his engorged cock and back to his honey irises, "tha's betta', baby, keep lookin' a'me with those pre'ty eyes."

your fingers were tentative, sharp fingernails tracing his veins, pupils growing at the sharp inhale he sucked in through his teeth as you studied his cock. he loved your eyes on him, feeding into his ego as if it wasn't big already, gaining silent validation from a girl that fed on academic praise.

and the fact that your fingertips barely met when you wrapped your slender fingers around his thick cock, his self esteem growing exponentially at the sight and blood further rushed down south.

he groaned at your amateur movements, wrist stiff as your smooth palm felt a bit abrasive against his sensitive cock. god, you were so unpracticed and nervous, he just had to guide you, "spit on y'r hand, yeah, good girl," he cooed, his thumb careeming your bottom lip, spreading your saliva across the plush pink.

he couldn't help the satisfied hum at your now slick movements, the way your thumb caught the tip of his angry cock, smearing pre along the spongy head. his head thrown back at the tentative taste you took with your pretty tongue, not missing the small contortion of your features at the salty taste. if he knew he would get you on your knees for him, he would've eaten sweet fruits in advance.

but now he knows for the future, he'll keep his fridge stocked, and maybe slip you a few smoothies to make you that pinch more sweet for when he does get a taste of what's between your thighs.

you were sure you were doing a terrible job, no way any guy would be satisfied with the uneven strokes of your tongue on the underside of his cock, but regardless, professor riley praised endlessly, "yeah, tha'sit, baby," he tugged you closer, causing your lips to wrap around his girth snuggly.

you tried doing what you had seen in porn, but then again, you were too busy imagining the main guy as your professor that now had his cock stuffed in your mouth.

it was embarrassing, downright humiliating because it was so glaringly obvious that you were trying to please him, movements hasty and unnatural as you furthered down on his lengthy dick.

his cock inched further in your mouth, his spongy tip punching the back of your throat all too quickly. it caused tears to brim your eyes and you clenched them shut, sputtering on him as spit pooled from your lips. he pulled you gently back from his dick by your hair, noticing how you'd just frozen up when you couldn't breath with his dick shoved down your throat.

he shushed you, cooing softly as he wiped a wad of saliva that bubbled at your lips, smearing it on your skin as it connected in a string back to him, "know my office 'ours don't last al'night, but surely, 's not'a race, yeah?" he cocks his head to the side, watching your bashful expression as you catch your breath, cheeks flushed and red, "take y'r time, baby, if 's too much, we'll revisit another time, hm?"

you swallow thickly. you didn't want to revisit this another time, you wanted it now. you had fantasized about him for months, even when you convinced yourself you were sick in the head for liking him. since the moment you caught a glance of him, he hadn't left your thoughts, merely convinced it was a behavior that sprung from loathing.

it didn't help that when you first locked eyes, you went back to your dorm and delved your fingers deep in your desperate cunt, clenching around yourself with the thought that they were his fingers instead of your dainty ones.

you just glared up at him indifferently, convinced you could handle it in any semblance of dignity, that you knew what you were doing after all—you didn't, but he didn't need to know. he did though.

he just barked out a harsh laugh, shoulders shaking as he shook his head. it made you want to recoil into a shell, like a hermit, or a turtle, somewhere safer than between his meaty thighs and in front of his meaty cock.

"you're so clueless, swee'eart," he calms down, his chest still rising and falling at an elevated pace, "i know ya'want to raise y'r test score, but bein' sloppy 'bout it isn't gonna help, yeah?" he speaks tauntingly, his tone coaxing and smooth.

he continued, "don't y'think a more thorough job will do the trick?" you hate that he's right. you hate that you have you spend any more time between the sanctuary of his toned legs, dusted with light blonde hairs that grew thicker near the base of his cock, though neatly trimmed, a stark contrast to his dark trousers as it sprouts out from beneath the material.

but he is the professor after all, let him teach you, yeah?

you let out a grumble through your lips, a deep frown remaining on your face as you return to his pretty, swollen cock, tentative licks along the veins as you stare into his eyes. you observe the way his lashes flutter, mumbling with your lips pressed to his sensitive skin, "i'll do it how i want." defiant, causing a rise of infuriated irritation to creep under his skin.

he growls. you just had to be a smartass about it. here he was, being so gentle, patient, and kind as well, for even allowing you to make up those 'lost' points, and all you do is bite back as if you don't want him just as much.

you squeak out as he tugs slightly at your hair, fist tightening in the strands. your eyes widen like a deer in headlights. frozen and doe eyed as you stare up at him, indifferent expression wiped from your face as his throbbing cock presses into your cheek. the warmth from his skin seeps into yours, the hand not in your hair holding the base of his dick, slapping it lightly back onto your face.

"be nice, yeah? i'm being s'generous to let y'make up these points in the firs' place," he gives a gentle nod of his head once, his expression firm and eyebrows raised as he studies you, "don't be a brat, doesn't suit you." with a final slap of his cock to your face, he loosens his grip and lets you go back to ministrations, patience returning now that you're back to the sweet and docile student you were a few minutes ago.

he hums pleasantly as you trace your pretty tongue along his veins once again, his calloused hand rough against your cheek as he smeared the saliva left from slapping his cock against your sweet face, rough enough to move and tug your face in different directions.

you just ignore his touches, lavishing on his cock as you kiss up and down his shaft, taking your time before you even attempt to wrap your lips around him again. either way, he seems to be enjoying the view, the tiny glimpse of your thighs twitching causes his to flex on either side of you.

soon, you have your swollen lips back around the tip of his drooling cock, still oozing gooey globes of pearly pre that tasted salty on your tongue. certainly an acquired taste, that is if you end up back between his meaty, muscular thighs, which you try to convince yourself you wouldn't be. this was a one-off thing, for your grades.

you aren't sure how you look in the moment, but you have a feeling you look a mess, hair frizzy, tousled and tangled around his fist, slurping on his cock with lewd sucks as drool drops to the ground with small splats. god, it really is filthy how ruined you already looked, such an innocent thing reduced to a professor-sucking whore.

his eyes stayed locked on yours, his pupils nearly blown completely as his iris is barely visible, replaced with a black void, or maybe his eyes are just that dark. you couldn't tell with your hazy vision staring back. your ears rang, but you didn't miss the way he sounded more desperate, increasingly vocal as you lavished his throbbing cock, reveling in the way it twitched against your pink tongue.

you only whined as he gently bucked his hips up against your face, cock pistoning to the back of your throat with light gags until you felt thick ropes of warm, creamy cum spill inside your throat, forcing you to swallow the salty substance.

it didn't dawn on you that you just gave your professor a blowjob until you pulled off his cock, positively ruined and lips coated thickly in saliva, now being layered with his spend as he rubs his cockhead against your lower lip. you looked frozen in shock at your actions, subconsciously licking the saltiness from your lips as you peered up at him, stroking himself a few more times for good measure, milking his release before storing his now satisfied cock back into his pants.

he just cradled your face after, pulling a handkerchief from one of his drawers to wipe your face and help you stand, cooing with praise as he did so. once you got back to your two feet, he handed over the cloth for you to tidy your appearance with, not taking notice when you slipped it into your back pocket.

your dainty fingers went to the first button of your cutesy blouse, only for embarrassment to creep up onto your face as you watched him shake his head, tsk'ing with a small huff as he spoke, "sorry, office hours ar'over, swee'eart, come see me t'morrow if ya need s'more clarification on yer grades," he pauses, a cocky smirk on his face as he glances up at you, his head tilted downwards now as he turns back to grading papers, "or if ya wan't'do more t'raise it..."

bastard.

[floatyflowers]

Male! Glinda x Dorothy's mother! Reader

"Glind?" You ask in confusion, as you look at the good wizard of the south, while your hands are placed on Dorothy, your daughter's shoulders.

"When Dorothy spoke about you, I never imagined that you would be her mother."

"You both know each other?" Dorothy asks in shock.

Glind gives a small, nervous laugh, twirling his wand in his hand, his usual composure slightly faltering.

Her eyes flicker between you and Dorothy.

"Oh, we... we knew each other, long ago, your mother and I went to university together, though I dare say we were more than friends."

Your eyebrows arch, uneasiness creeping into your expression.

"That's one way to put it," you mutter, your grip on Dorothy's shoulders tightening as the memories flood back.

Glind had been the golden star, dazzling everyone at Shiz University, while you had been more reserved, preferring quiet corners and a life outside the spotlight.

You were originally from Kansas but found yourself transported to the land of Oz after an accident.

The Wizard Oz took you in and offered to help you after you told him your situation, he enrolled you into the university of Shiz.

And that's where you met Glind and also Elphabe who had a unique skin colour along with strong powers.

The wicked wizard of the West used to be your friend.

But Glind told Elphabe that you don't want to be his friend anymore after you two got engaged and soon to be wed.

And thanks to Glind's possessive narcissistic attitude, he ruined this friendship.

So, you asked Oz to return back to your homeland just to escape marrying Glind, and he granted you that.

Now that you are back here, you just want to take your daughter and leave.

"Thank you for helping my daughter, but I think we should leave now."

"Wait a second."

Glind speaks, his wand tapping against his palm.

"We have some catching up to do," he says brightly, though his voice carries a hint of coldness

"Dorothy, darling, why don’t you go check on Toto? I’m sure he’s getting into trouble somewhere. Your mother and I, need to have a little... chat."

Your daughter's eyes widened before rushing to search for Toto, leaving you alone with the light-haired Wizard.

Glind moves towards you before grabbing your arms tightly.

"Is Dorothy my daughter?"

[bobananami]

VELVET ESCAPADES

SUKUNA RYOMEN

synopsis—a night out with your fiancé ends with you ruining his fun, then to him ruining you

tags—CEO au Sukuna. talks of marriage. brat reader. remote controlled vibrators. hidden exhibition. bondage (suspension). edging. orgasm denial. hints towards his abilities. fingering. pnv.

You weren't a coward. At least that's what you told yourself as you rushed down a hallway filled with grandiose windows and pristine carpeted floors. All part of the manor that hosted the gracious ball you and your beloved fiance were attending.

Said fiance was mingling around the dance floor, conversing with men of his caliber—or at least as close as they could get to his. All fancied up in suits and ties, they preened their wealth in hopes of showing off their status to both their women or in hopes of finding one—or multiple—to spend the night with.

Not that it mattered to you or your husband to be. Both of you were dressed immaculately, putting every wannabe rich boy and doe-eyed ladies to shame the second you walked in and beheld your shimmering dress and sharp, tailored suit.

Little did they know that under your fancy embroidered fabrics, Sukuna Ryomen was playing a game with you. A game that started with a little object in his right pocket that he constantly fidgeted with and ended with its second half buried up into your slick core.

You thought it would be fun in the car when he had proposed the idea. To see how well you could keep your composure when he held your pleasure and sanity in his hand, and in the end—if you did good—he'd reward you.

You should've known better. You should've fucking known better.

It took you half an hour to realize exactly how this game benefitted him and not you, for he denied you your pleasure every single time you were inches away from reaching it. You didn't know how he kept tabs on exactly how close you were, but you had little doubt it was related to his unusual keen eyes and ears, able to hear every stuttered breath and every skipped heartbeat.

The first time he’d done so, you casted him a wicked glare, eyes sharp enough to cut through the very walls of this building. He only met it with a smooth incline of his chin, his lips twitched into a smile so subtle, you wouldn't have caught it if you weren't on the receiving end.

The second time had you tapping your foot against the marble floor, your grip on the champagne glass tight enough to nearly shatter it. You didn't look at him this time, but just a second later, you felt a palm—his palm—on your shoulder and his breath against the end of your jaw. A single word was whispered from his lips as they caressed the shell of your ear.

"Behave."

Your shoulders trembled as you resisted the urge to snap your teeth at his chuckling figure.

The third time had you storming off into the hallways, muttering something about needing to use the restroom towards the frilly young lady that prattled off about some subject you never really listened to.

You couldn't catch a break.

Even in the wide expanse of windowed walls and red carpeted floors, you couldn't cool yourself from the heat that radiated in your core. The lack of sleeves and cool, ventilated air did nothing but show how tense you were. How two beads of sweat made their way from your forehead down to your jaw.

The bathroom wasn't much better, but it did offer you the privacy you wished you had.

Bzzz.

Your grip tightened on the white counters, your eyes screwed shut as you held in the little moan that threatened to escape.

You let your head fall back, the buzzing growing more intense and louder in the echoing chamber of the bathroom. Your chest heaved with every pant and your thighs pressed together as if they could ward off the sensation you begged to receive. The waters of pleasure grew into a wave, higher and higher as it reached the undisturbed shore that begged to be coated in oceanic salt.

Maybe he couldn't hear you. You're halfway across the damn house, behind the closed door of a bathroom. Maybe now you could—

But before you could finish the thought, the waters froze, then were pulled back by an unknown force.

You held in a howl of frustration, tears pricking your lashes that you held in for fear of ruining your makeup. You opted for stomping furiously on the ground.

How dare he? How dare he take your orgasm from you again?

Riiiiing.

You buried your hand in your purse, pulling out your phone. Your scowl only deepened the second you saw what contact dared to interrupt your internal tirade.

"Are you done throwing your little tantrum, princess?"

You didn't hesitate. "Fuck. You."

Three tuts were heard over the line, then his deep, smug voice. "Don't be like that, baby. You know better than to use that language on me."

"I mean it, Sukuna. Fucking—I hate you." The vibe in you suddenly went to its max, and you yelped in surprise, your shaky grip nearly causing you to drop your phone.

"What did I just say?" The static didn't really distort his words. Somehow, it only made them more menacing. Made you more inclined to obey his commands.

But the past hour and a half of teasing and toying with you as if you were nothing but a little rabbit to be played with during its hunt had your pupils narrowing and ragged breaths sourcing from anger, rather than desperation.

Fuck obedience.

You held the bottom of your phone to your mouth, making sure he heard every breath and syllable you spat from your venomous tongue.

"Fuck. You."

You hung up the phone shortly after. He wanted to play with you? You could play his game right back.

His contact appeared shortly on the screen again and you declined the call, instead going into his information and blocking him effective immediately.

You shut off your phone right after, getting rid of any location tracking he might've had with the device.

The glittering cloths of your dress wrinkled as you hiked up your skirt. The single stall bathroom was filled with hitched moans and whines as you pushed aside your laced panties, gliding two fingers deep into your pulsing cunt. All just to grab onto the silicone string of that damned vibrator and yank it out.

"We'll see how you fucking like this." You hissed angrily, tossing it into your purse with contempt.

So full of vitriol and spite, the satisfaction gained from shutting him out and ending his fun was enough for you to forgo getting yourself off in the pristine restroom and causing wonder for why you'd been gone for so long.

Little did you know that would be the biggest mistake of your night.

You flipped your hair back, testing your smile in the spotless mirror. Stunning. That's what you'd thought when you finally finished your makeup hours earlier. That's what your fiance had murmured the second he saw your finished look by the door to your home.

But now? Your smile widened to show your teeth, your canines as dull as a human could be, yet seeming as sharp as a panther when you beheld the molten lava in your eyes.

You avoided Sukuna the whole night afterwards, relishing in his darkened gaze when he realized what you had done.

You tossed him a look when he tried edging you again in plain sight and threw him a little wink before you took a sip of your champagne.

Dangling the glittery purse in your palm, you spun on your heel and went back to the bar to order a glass of refreshment.

He was beyond pissed, you could tell. You felt his eyes boring holes in your head as you turned your back towards him and you knew that if you were in the privacy of your own home, you'd be pinned to the ground with his clothed cocks pressing into your ass as he growled threats and promises into your ear.

Which was why the snake of delight slithered up your spine. He was in no position to do what he wanted right now. Not when so many people were watching.

Your thighs clenched at the idea of you finally having the higher ground.

Maybe now he'll know better than to cross you again.

You were so, so wrong.

A minute later you felt a grip by your elbow. You looked up to see the stormy eyes of Sukuna Ryomen, burning with ire.

You barely put the glass down before you were being dragged to the front door. As politely as he could display in this public setting. He stopped to talk to the host, but before you could get the idea to run, his grip turned impossibly tight.

Your eyes widened, and you looked up to your lover to see his jaw clench, even as he smiled and laughed with the blue eyed, white haired man before him.

You could barely bid your farewells before you were borderline tossed into your car.

The car was dark, the only light within from the radio by the front driver and the golden lights from the house outside.

Your pupils narrowed, and you snarled his way. "Why the fuck did you just—"

You felt two fingers press against your forehead and the last thing you saw was the steel cold face of Sukuna Ryomen and two very vivid scarlet eyes.

You awoke with a throbbing headache—the familiar aftereffects of the fainting spell. It wore off by the second, all the while you blinked away your blurry vision, trying to discern your surroundings.

Your neck ached and the muscles strained from the tension of your head hanging down. The reason why hit you soon after—your hands were suspended in the air. Red silk wrapped snugly around your wrists kept your arms pin straight above your head, its other end reaching the hook in the ceiling.

You tried shifting your legs, only to realize the same ropes were there too, tied artistically around your lower thighs to keep them spread apart.

Displayed like art for its intended audience.

Cold air wrapped around you like a glove, shifting your notice to your dress, or lack thereof. Where glittered fabric and shimmering satin had coated you before now laid nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Your eyes widened—

"You wake, finally."

Sukuna Ryomen sat lazily on the armchair across from you. His ankle was cross over his knee, his chin resting on his fist. He was still dressed in his nightly clothes sans his jacket. Drool pooled at the bottom of your mouth when you beheld the way his shirt stretched against his chest.

There was something in his other hand though. You noticed his thumb rolling against the edge of a small object. That should’ve raised the alarm in your head.

"What is the meaning of this?" Your words were slow. Careful. You weren't ignorant to the gleam in his eyes. In the dark room, lit only by the golden lamps beside your bed, Sukuna's ruby irises seemed to glow with lustful malice.

"You should know, little rabbit." Your fiance drawled, his tone lazy, yet you noticed the subtle edge with every syllable that dripped from his tongue. "You ruined my fun tonight."

You bristled in your spot, trying to ignore the flush that crept up your cheeks from his gaze raking over your nude figure. There was a hunger within them that made you wonder if he was planning how, exactly, he was going to devour you.

He leaned forward, flashing the tiny black object in his hand.

A remote of some sort.

"So I will be ruining you."

The small click reverberated throughout the room.

Not even a second later, you felt a small buzz inside your cunt. You jerked against the sudden feeling, now taking note of the small vibe nestled deep inside your walls.

Your surprised expression met the cunning of his and his smile grew at the realization blooming in your eyes at what he had planned tonight.

Another click and your gasp followed, your lips forming his name in a plea he'd be sure to ignore.

"Sukuna please—"

"Zip it." His sharp tone had your mouth clamping up. But he didn't ignore the way your pupils narrowed at his snippy tone. "You ran from me tonight. Blocked me. Took out the toy."

Bzz.

"Now you have no choice but to face your punishment, when tonight could've ended with satisfaction."

Click.

Bzzz.

"You fucking deserved—"

You didn't even blink before he was in front of you, your hair whipping with the effects of his lightning speed.

His hand gripped your jaw roughly, lifting your face to meet his.

"You'll take what I give you until you're a begging, writhing mess. Then I'll think about giving you what you want. But for now..."

You blink, and he's back in his seat, in the same exact position that you wondered if you had imagined him getting up in the first place.

His smile grew, baring his fangs of the wolf he never truly tried to hide.

"We have fun."

You were delirious, wound up infinitely from the pain and pleasure mixed into an intoxicating potion of ecstasy.

Sukuna kept you bound there for an hour. Two hours. Watching. Waiting.

His keen eyes observed every twitch and jerk as he kept that vibrator buried deep within your pulsing cunt and edged you until you were begging for him to grant you release.

You were hissing, spitting and groaning out insults like a feral kitten to the man that sat before you with a smirk carved into his beautiful face. His eyes held all the emotions you needed to see, glimmering with amusement and pity, as if you were nothing than a bunny caught in its hunters snare, to be eaten and savored. You were the one who bounced into his trap after all, you only had yourself to blame.

He could see the gradual shift in effects your little game was having on you. The denial to anger. The writhe and shift of your body as that vibrator nestled deep in your cunt was winding that worn rope tighter and tighter within you.

Your wrists must've been rubbed raw by now with how much you were twisting them in the silk knot that held them high above your head, the ones at your knees keeping your thighs spread perfectly so he could watch just how your heated core reacted to being denied its pleasure over and over and over again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck you, Sukuna. Fuck. You." You spat, your words nothing but null venom. "Fucking h-hate you." Your voice hitched, words tumbling into a low whine that mixed with the crescendoing buzz of your toy. Your knees jerked, eyes squeezing shut as you got lost in the pleasure your torturer was granting you.

Sukuna merely quirked a single brow, leaning an elbow on his leg as he bent forward. "Do you now, doll?" The low baritone of his voice had you keening, your head shaking in a white lie.

"I do. F-fuck. I swear—hah—I swear I do!" You winced as your nails bit into the skin of your palm, your fists as tense as the muscles of your thighs. Sukuna's keen eyes watched as the crimson of your blood stain the red silk at your wrists, and his tongue swiped over his lips at the idea of taking your hand in his grasp and...

"Hm... okay then." The remote in his hand clicked, eventually reaching a stage with no change as he wound up the intensity to its max, and he relished in every jerk and twitch of your body as it tried desperately to chase that high he'd been artistically keeping from you.

Predatory eyes glimmered with entertainment as you panted, your voice reaching a high pitch as you moaned for him. As you whined and cried and sobbed. For someone who claimed to feel nothing but hatred for her fiance, you sure had a tendency to keep the syllables of his name flowing on your tongue.

That incessant buzzing hadn't stopped once in the past many minutes, pulling that fragile string tighter, tighter, and fucking tighter.

You'd survived the past two and a half hours of denial, relying on that armor of swears and insults. But it could only handle so much. You could only handle so much.

You realized now that you were laid bare, and the wolf in front of you was drooling at the maw as he took in your naked torso. At the exposed belly of the little rabbit he desired to ravish.

For a second, you froze, taking in your wicked fiancée. The way his irises seemed to glow red, his very presence emanating the sadistic glee at your struggle…

The whites of your eyes showed as you beheld your ravenous predator before you, and then you thrashed. Finally, finally that prey subconscious kicked in. Testing the integrity of the red silk that held you spread wide open for your dashing, torturing hunter, you tried curling in on yourself. Elbows flaring and thighs begging to close to hide your displayed abdomen and chest if only to protect yourself from the beast in front of you.

All the while Sukuna Ryomen's smile grew, showing his fangs and canines as you broke. Shattered.

Into a million pieces he would eagerly clean with his tongue.

"Fuck—Sukuna, please. Please!" Your arms tugged at the rope again, shoulders and triceps sore from the constant state of tension it remained in as tears streaked down the familiar path your cheeks, wetting the dried trail that had been there since the moment you woke up on this bed.

"Oh?" He was everything but shocked, but his chuckle grated against your ears and you sobbed once more, your throat bobbing with the pathetic sounds that followed. "So she finally begs."

You were so close. So damn close to ecstasy that you didn't bristle at his mockery, instead now focusing on switching methods and pleading for mercy.

"I want-" A hiccup, then the shake of your head to move the curl of hair that found its way to your face. "I w-wanna cum. Please, 'Kuna. P-Please!"

His sharp eyes gnawed at you—at the once thick metaphorical rope now grains away from snapping entirely and bringing your unsteady waters to peace.

You welcomed it—craved it. You wanted it gone, that growing itch deep within your core that you were so close to getting rid of. You wanted it gone.

"Beg me more." Each syllable was drawn out, his eloquence leaving no room for misunderstanding as you opened your tear laden eyes and set them upon his grinning expression. Cocky mother fucker.

But you couldn’t argue. It was futile. It always had been. From the second he started this game.

Your body bowed once more as you gave in entirely—a physical representation of how you finally became submissive to your master.

"Please. Please, my love. I'm begging. I—I'll do anything. Anything! If I could j-just—“

“J-just—“ His mocking tone sliced through your pleas. One second he was sitting in that damn chair, and the next he was in front of you. His head tilted, the true essence of the reigning predator he was in that very movement.

His calloused hand grabbed at your jaw, his tight, rough grip keeping your gaze directed up towards him.

"Come now, bambi... you can do better than that." You whimpered when he jerked your face forward. When he bent down until your lips were a mere breath away. "Beg."

You didn't know how to beg more than you already had. You only let out a series of sobs and unintelligible slurred words as he took off that vibrator again, yanking you down to earth.

"Hm." Sukuna watched you with amused scrutiny as you tried finding your way back to shore after being dunked under the ocean surface once again. He couldn't help but let his hand wander, his finger trailing oh so delicately down your neck, from your jaw to the clavicle that jutted out. Round and round your breast until he was cupping it. You could only twitch and whine and moan when he squeezed, his thumb and forefinger pinching against your peaked nipple.

"I shouldn't be giving you anything tonight after the stunt you pulled today." He guided his hand lower and lower, down your curves and your heaving abdomen. "But I can't help that you looked so fucking delectable at that gala tonight. I wanted to drag you to a bathroom and rip your dress to shreds." Your thigh tensed when his palm skimmed up and down the expanse of your skin. Over the ridges of looped silk that dimpled your fat under their tension.

You couldn't help but whimper when he cupped your mound. Neither could you help your embarrassed flush when he pointed out how he barely even touched you and yet his entire palm was covered in your slick and arousal.

Fucking filthy, he said.

All because of you, you couldn't help but respond.

The man who was not a man only hummed in response. His fingers slid between your folds, middle finger catching against your clit before he gave it a swift flick.

"Ngh—"

"Quiet, pet." He gave a light smack, and you jerked against his hold. Against the hold of that damn red silk.

He smacked you again, only to soothe the ache by pressing two, thick digits against your pulsating hole.

"You do not cum until I say so." It wasn't a request. He didn't care if you nodded in submission. Obedience was expected.

Your walls stretched deliciously as he sunk in his middle and ring finger, and you let out a long moan, high pitched and barely audible from hours of use.

Sukuna tched, moving the hand on your jaw to shove the same exact fingers down your throat. "I said be quiet."

You held in your gag at how deep they went. As well as your moan at how deep his other fingers went.

His thrusts were slow. The horrible, terrible man before you making you feel every grind and scissor and push of his two fingers.

Three digits each.

Six in total.

All making your head feel woozy and clouded as if you had taken a sedative.

"Stay with me, little doe."

He picked up the pace, and your lashes fluttered shut. Two tears rolled down your cheeks, released from your lash line the second your lids closed.

Please, please, please let me cum.

How pathetic did you have to be to beg him in your mind if you weren't allowed to do it verbally.

Your fiance seemed to read your thoughts, and a smug smile grew on his face. His fingers fucked into you faster, his palm now grinding against your clit with every shove of his hand into your sweet, begging cunt.

You were close. Oh so fucking close that you couldn't hide your whines anymore. Your internalized begging became verbal once more, even if they were muffled against his fingers pressed down on your tongue.

You opened your eyes to meet his once again, every request and apology written in them like the stars in the night sky.

Close, close. You were so close. Please, please, please, ple—

"Come."

Just like that, you fell limp, the ropes and his grip on your face being the only things holding you up as your vision turned white and your body gave into its carnal desire.

You felt lightning skitter up your spine and along every single bone in your body as you finally caved, orgasming on his relentless fingers.

The still bedroom air was filled with lewd claps of his hand continuing to finger fuck your tight cunt and the stuttered gasps and moans of relief and pleasure and ecstasy.

Finally. Finally.

His hand slowed, and you felt him pulling something out of your walls as he withdrew his hand from your throat.

A strong, albeit wet, palm cupped your cheek, and you stayed leaning against it with your eyes closed, catching your breath.

He let you, waiting as long as you needed to find your bearings before your lashes fluttered open, a tired—yet satisfied—emotion rolling beneath your rich irises.

Sukuna met yours with a cocky—and proud—look of his own. There was a tense moment of silence, before—

"Truly a shame I couldn't properly rip your dress off you tonight."

Your breathy chuckles told him all he needed to know. He'd have another chance, and you'd let him have his fun soon.

Very soon.

dividers from @/cafekitsune

[lqveharrington]

Loathing | D.M.

summary: you and draco have loathed one another since first year, but you know something happened over the summer before your sixth year. he had changed.

pairing: rival!draco malfoy x potter!reader

includes: fluff, angst, bleeding, both of them being oblivious, both of them taking care of each other

a/n: unadulterated loathing (guess who watched wicked last week?)

The moment you met Draco Malfoy – well, the moment he insulted one of your friends and then wanted to be friends with your brother – you knew you would loathe him for the rest of your life. From every glare from across the room to house rivalries, you loathed him for all you had. Especially when he ruined your Yule Ball experience by knocking the eggnog on you and refusing to explain why, only glaring instead.

But something changed in your sixth year. He changed.

Usually, the second you got on the train to Hogwarts, he would find you and start with the insults, but this year was different. Hell, when you were trying to find Harry on the train when you got to Hogwarts, Draco walked past you without even sparing a glance. He wasn’t even in his Slytherin robes, he was just in a black suit.

Then when the quidditch season started, you learned that he had quit his position as seeker and chance as quidditch captain. You were surprised he lost almost all interest in the sport itself when he used to brag on and on about how good he was at the game. Everything he used to egg you on about was close to nothing, and it worried you just a little.

You knew something was different – he was different – and wanted to know what happened, but you knew your friends couldn’t care less about the Slytherin Prince.

“Hermoine, please tell me you noticed something wrong with Malfoy.” You murmur and enter the potions room, eyes instantly meeting the gray and blue eyes you were speaking of. He quickly averted his gaze and stared down at his potions book instead, making you frown. “He hasn’t been throwing enough insults at us this year.”

“Is that not a good thing?” She creases her brows and takes her seat beside you, pulling her potions book out of her bag. Hermione looks at you with slight unease, not really understanding why you were asking in the first place. “Besides, why should you care? Don’t you hate him?”

You don’t respond, only spinning your ring and bringing your attention back to the Slytherin Prince himself, your teeth kissing your lips in your own turmoil. He looked so tired and… Helpless. You wanted to understand what he was going through despite everything he had put you through. He was still a student at Hogwarts. It may seem out of the ordinary from your usual loathing, but if something serious was going on, you hoped to Godric that he would be okay.

For the rest of class, Slughorn assigned the most ridiculous sounding potion to create. It was supposedly the most powerful love potion in existence and when Slughorn said it could help anyone identify their true love, you doubted it. It was only when Harry properly made the potion did you test the theory out. It seemed like Lavender was having a day with the potion and kept batting her eyes at Ron, making you and Hermoine roll your eyes in annoyance.

When Slughorn called the rest of the class in pairs to come over to smell the potion and describe what they smelled, you still believed people made up with what they smelled. You thought they were just believing they smelled the person they liked. From Hermione smelling freshly-mown grass and new parchment to Harry smelling some kind of sweets, it seemed quite fake.

And you could have gotten away with not having to smell the potion when you unashamedly yawned the second Slughorn turned to look over.

“Miss Potter, since you and Mr. Malfoy seem to have found this task boring, why don’t you both come up and tell me what you smell.” Slughorn beckoned you up toward Harry’s cauldron.

Pursing your lips, you do your best not to roll your eyes as you made your way over to the cauldron, only to be overwhelmed with Draco’s cologne when smelling the potion. You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, noticing he was just as confused as you.

“Maybe tone down the cologne, Malfoy.” You mutter to him and try to find a scent that wasn’t just his stupid cologne.

He rolled his eyes at you and leaned his head down, practically hissing into your ear. “Me? Your fucking shampoo is blocking all my senses right now.”

“Like you can smell that right now.” You turn your own head and glare at him, the tension growing larger and larger.

As if you were in a staring contest of who could hate the other more, you forgot about the class and only the loathing you felt for the blonde in front of you. However, the class soon began to felt the tension, uncomfortable with how you two were behaving. Whispers began to fill the air, but you two continued to bicker.

“Maybe use less product, Potter.” Draco suggested and flicked a piece of your hair off your shoulder, ignoring the way his cheeks flamed at how close the two of you were at the moment.

You crossed your arms and squinted, hating how he had to bend just to be at eye level to you. “Says the one practically bathes in Dior Sauvage—”

“Mr. Malfoy and Miss Potter, please, go back to your seats. We have gathered all the information we need.” Slughorn spoke with an amused smile.

For the rest of the week, it seemed like the entire student body was pointing to you and whispering. Even if you were just switching classes or sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione, eyes averted to you before they eventually turned away when they caught your eyes.

You didn't understand what was going on. It felt like everyone you knew began to have a knew found hatred toward you and it bugged you. Even Harry gave you questioning looks from time to time. You don't remember doing anything cruel and vile.

Eventually, you did give up guessing why everyone was giving you dirty looks. You ignored all their staring and only acknowledged the people you knew didn't mean any harm toward you. It soon became a habit for you to leave the trio alone for a good hour or two, spending time to practice spells in the room of requirements; Mainly casting your Patronus and watching it have the time of its life.

Well, until one day the room began to change on its own.

“Hello? Room of requirements?" You stood abruptly and looked around at the changing room, your Patronus dissipating in thin air.

The room began to shift in size, becoming quite large in size with piles and piles of junk. As you tripped over the old trinkets decorating the room — trying to find the exit to the ever expanding room — you cut yourself on the sudden arrival of a rusted sword.

Holding your cut hand close to you body, you glared at the room like it was your least favorite thing in the entire world. "This is not what I asked—“

“Fuck.”

You heard the voice whisper before you jumped back in surprise when the person banged on something wooden. So someone who needed the room more came. That's why. As you tried to make your way out a give the person privacy, you tripped back into another pile of junk, making you wince.

“Shit.” You mutter and do your best to remove yourself from the pile, pursing your lips when you heard footsteps approach you.

Before you could even try to hide, the said person appeared right in front of you with their wand pointed at your face. You followed the wand up until you met their eyes, making you inwardly groan at your luck.

“What are you doing?” You spoke at the same time, both of you rolling your eyes at the same time.

Hastily, you stood up from your spot on the dirtied floor and dusted your clothes off, mentally cursing yourself for being ever so clumsy.

“I asked you first, Potter.” Draco tucked his wand away, glancing down at your bleeding hand. He frowned and moved around you.

You stepped away from him, still nursing your hand. Unsure of what he was going to do, you simply answered the question truthfully.

“I was using the room to practice my spells, but it changed because apparently your needs were far more important than mine.” You watched him dig through dusted cabinets and drawers, looking for something. “Now answer mine.”

“I don’t have to.” He muttered and pulled out some type of cleanser and a kit, making you recoil at the sight. You hated the doctors and it seemed like Draco was ready to operate on your hand.

“You know? I think I should go before—" You start before he raised a brow at you, looking down at your injured hand and then back up to your eyes. "What?"

“You could get in trouble, you know?” He gestured to your hand before guiding you to sit on a bed that seemed too clean to be one of the old trinkets lying around before. "You need to clean your hand before it gets infected. Everything in here is old and dusted."

"Then I will clean my hand on my own, thank you very much." You yank the cleanser from his hands and pop the cap open. You stared at your wound before looking at the bottle, already regretting your choice.

"What?" He looked over your face, noticing the hesitation in your facial expression. "Do you need me to do it?"

"Yes, please." You whisper quickly, shutting your eyes tightly when you felt him lightly dab your cut with the cleanser. You bit your lip when it stung, nodding when he told you it would be over in a second.

“I'm done." Draco murmured and threw the cloth in the trash, watching you slowly open your eyes and look at your now bandaged hand. He nodded at you before standing, finding his way back over to a wooden cabinet.

You looked around the place, noticing the fresh bedsheets and glass of water that surely hasn't been sitting there for Godric knows how long. Tucking your injured hand in your free one, you wandered the small sleeping area before stopping at all the books piled next to it.

"Malfoy, what are you doing in here?" You take a book from the top of the pile and read its title. The Fundamentals of Vanishing Cabinets. You raised your brows in curiosity, looking over at him to find him already staring. "Well?"

“Like I said, I don't have to answer you.” He murmured and stepped toward you, taking the book from your hands.

You stared at him and frowned. His image was even worse up close. You could see the bags underneath his eyes and the gel from his hair completely gone from how many times he ran his fingers through his hair. When he glanced down at you, you were once again millimeters from each other before you both pulled away in confusion and guilt, like your skin was on fire.

“Are you getting enough sleep?" You ask as he walks toward the cabinet again, but this time, you followed him over. "I don't see you eat enough during dinner either."

“You watch me, Potter?” He spoke in amusement, lips turning down to hide the smirk that wanted to present itself to you.

“What? No!" You splutter out and look away, face flamed in warmth. "Only in hatred.”

"Whatever you say." He murmured and began tinkering with the cabinet, placing a green apple on the top shelf. "Stalker." He whispered, earning an annoyed glare from you.

“Just answer the question. Why did the room change to this mess?” You look at the bed you assumed his stayed in and then change your gaze toward the cabinet he seemed so intent on working on. “And why are you spending all your time on this old cabinet?“

He opened his mouth to speak when he winced and clutched his left forearm, making you panic ever so slightly. Draco moved to sit on the bed, pursing his lips and trying to think of anything but the pain being emitted on his arm.

You frown and take his arm in your hands, pulling his sleeve up only to silently gasp in surprise. Draco pulled his arm away and tugged the sleeve down, glaring at you.

“You’re a death eater.” You look at him with wide eyes, stepping back in shock. You looked between his arm, his frantic eyes, and then the cabinet. Your head was reeling at all the information you learned. "You got the dark mark—"

“You can’t tell anyone.” Draco whispered, almost pleading you to not tell a soul. If you told Harry, then everything would go to shit. But when he saw your face clear of all shock and shift to remorse, he knew you wouldn't go against his wishes despite him being a real threat to you and your brother.

“Why? Why did…” You move closer and clutch his arm, pulling his sleeve up again and wanting to trace the design. When he stopped you, you looked up and knew it would hurt. You nodded and thumbed the skin below it, eyes looking over the ink. “You didn’t have a choice, did you?”

Draco nodded and shut his eyes when you continued to thumb the empty space, opening them when you stopped. He knew that the gears were turning in your head when you stared at him like he was you next project — which he knew you would never call him that despite the loathing you had for him.

After seconds of silence, you open your mouth and speak softly, thumb moving over the space once more. “Can't you tell Dumbledore at all? Maybe he could do something to protect you—“

“That’s not how it works.” Draco stopped your movements and tugged his sleeve down. He caught you hesitating to look over the mark again, tilting his head to the side when you took a seat beside him. "Why are you still here?"

"What do you mean?" You murmur and trace the bandage over your hand before looking up at him, meeting his blue-gray eyes. "I can leave if you want me to. But I want to know if you'll be okay if I leave first."

You kept eye contact with him for a little longer before looking away, eyes finding interest in a silver crown in the corner. You weren't sure why you cared so much about him. It was like a switch flipped on in your mind. In all your years at Hogwarts, his taunting was a constant in your life. So when that went away, you knew something was wrong and you wanted to make sure he was okay, even if your brother hated him. It was an instinct you suddenly gained.

"Why?" He stared at the mirror across from him, catching your eyes through the reflection once more. "Is it because you want more material to tease me about?"

"Godric, no." You huff and run your fingers through your hair. "I'm not a monster, Malfoy." You let a small smile slip through when he raised his brow at you. "I'm not a monster!"

"Not saying you are, Potter." He finally smiled at you. But even through the smile, you could see how exhausted he was. With whatever he was doing for the Dark Lord, you just hoped he would be fine in the end. "If I tell you I'll be okay, will you leave me be so I can finish my task?"

You turn your head to look at him properly, looking in between his eyes. You sighed and broke eye contact, "Yes." You look back up and find him millimeters away again, making you squint. "If you don't come to potions tomorrow with any kind of retort, I will be in here waiting for you, understand?"

He rolled his eyes and nodded, "Whatever gets you out of here, Potter."

Nodding, you stand and dust off your clothes once more. Talking with Draco civically was quite a feat, but you knew it was for the better or worse. But just before you could leave the room, you heard his voice ring out to you once more, you first name falling from his lips instead of your last.

"Don't use that strong of a shampoo anymore, yeah?"

You send him a half smile, "Only if you don't apply your entire bottle of cologne."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[magnusbae]

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you 🖤

🖤 What a wicked thing to do, 🐇 🐇 to make me dream of you 🖤

🖤 What a wicked thing to say, 🐇

🐇 you never felt this way 🖤

[littlelamy]

sports car

warnings: smut, mdni

lamy's notes: heavily inspired by sports car by tate mcrae! i know i said i'll post tomorrow but i just HAD to write something based on this song.

rafe cameron doesn’t ask, doesn’t even fucking hesitate when it comes to claiming what’s his. it’s in the way his gaze burns through you, stripping you bare under the flicker of shitty alleyway lights, his lips curling into that cocky smirk like he already knows how wet you are just from the way he looks at you.

in the alley? fuck, he lives for the filth. the sharp scent of damp concrete, the muffled bass from the club pounding in time with your heartbeat. he’d slam you against the wall without a care for the grime, his fingers already pulling your panties aside. “you’re such a dirty little thing, aren’t you? letting me take you out here where anyone could see?” his voice is a low growl against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as his fingers pump into you, wet and obscene. he’s rough, unrelenting, whispering filth in your ear as he makes you fall apart in the shadows.

in the back of his car? that’s practically his second home for this kind of shit. the windows fogged up, your moans echoing in the tight space as his hands roam every inch of you. his lips crash into yours, messy and desperate, his teeth catching your bottom lip just to hear you gasp. “you like being my little slut, huh? letting me fuck you like this, so fucking loud?” he’d shove the seat back, spreading your legs wide as his head dips between your thighs, his tongue working you over with a filthy precision that has you clawing at his shoulders. and when you cum, trembling and gasping his name, he’s grinning like the devil himself, proud and possessive. “you’re not done yet, baby. i’m not fucking done with you.”

then there’s the center of the room—the sheer audacity of him. some swanky event, his family’s fancy dinner, whatever. it doesn’t matter. he’d grab your wrist, dragging you away with a wicked gleam in his eye. “you think you can sit there, looking like that, and i’m just gonna behave?” he’d lay you down right there, the thrill of possibly being caught only making him harder. his hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, his mouth hot against your skin as he fucks you like he’s staking a claim. “let them hear,” he’d snarl, his hips slamming into yours. “let them fucking know who you belong to.”

with the windows rolled down? oh, he’s all over that. speeding down some dark, empty road, one hand gripping the wheel while the other slides up your thigh, fingers teasing under your skirt. “you’re such a needy little thing, can’t even wait till we stop.” and when you’re practically begging, he’d pull over, dragging you onto his lap in the driver’s seat. the car rocks with every thrust, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as you ride him, the cool night air rushing in through the open windows. “you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his lips bruising yours as he fucks up into you. “every inch of you is mine.”

on the corner of your bed, his hand wrapped around your throat, his voice a dark growl that sends shivers down your spine. “you’re mine. say it. fucking say it.” his other hand is between your legs, fingers working you open as he watches your face twist in pleasure.

on the beach, under the moonlight, he’d take you in the sand, the waves crashing around you as his body pins yours down. the salt air mingles with the sound of your cries, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he takes you hard and deep.

and when he’s feeling particularly unhinged? he’d sit back, watching with dark, hungry eyes as you touch yourself for him, his cock throbbing as he strokes himself in time with your movements. “you like putting on a show for me, baby? yeah, keep going. let me see how fucking bad you need it.”

he’s chaos, lust, and danger all wrapped up in one—and he’ll ruin you over and over until you’re begging for more.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs

[2tarbell]

happy birthday!! could i get vanilla birthday cake with crybaby!reader and “she’s so pretty, she still looks like an angel while i’m doing the most depraved and ungodly things to her”

- 🕷️ (if it’s available)

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

participate in my bday celebration!!!

“good girl, right there, yeah?”

the drooling sounds of crybaby’s cunt swallowing the length of her boyfriend filled her frilly room. the baby blue decor seemed to judge her — being ruined in a space that was so precious. she could feel the beady eyes of her stuffed animals watching them. it should’ve felt wrong, but nothing wrong could make her feel so good.

the sex was always great with rafe. she thought he was heaven sent, so good with that mouth and seemingly all knowing when it came to her body. he knew all the spots to drag out animalistic whines and pearly tears from her.

it was all nasty words and sobs that filled the space. rafe’s large hands guided her movements roughly, pushing her to ride him in a way he liked. the realization that she was being used for his pleasure made crybaby clench around him. he rewarded her with a buck of his hips.

she mewled at the feeling, the sensation of him nudging her cervix making the tears fall harder and faster. fingers scratched at his toned chest, searching for any kind of stability.

“daddy, i— i can’t—“

a sting to her tear-stained cheek caused a choked sob to fall from her kiss bitten lips. the slap wasn’t even that hard — rafe tutted and gripped her chin, pulling her face down to his. body pliable and melting into him, her head all muddy from the contact of his palm to her cheek.

“yeah? you done, baby? tell me to stop.” he whispered, almost a threat. like he was daring her to back out.

but he knew her too well; silence broken by her little sniffles was all the response he got. those wet eyes stared at him pleadingly and pitifully. she wouldn’t say it — even if she had a gun to her head. too cock drunk to even function.

a wicked smirk etched its way onto rafe’s handsome features, resuming dragging her back and forth on his cock with her jaw still tightly in his grasp. her lips parted in a silent whine, he kissed her open mouth hotly.

“s’what i thought. you need this shit, huh? don’t fuckin’ tell me you can’t—”

she was a mess above him. hips canting when his tip kissed that perfect little spot, beginning to black out as stars dotted her vision. or maybe that was just the tears and mascara coating her lashes.

the sight had rafe pulsing inside of her, eyes flickering over her whole face and trying to commit her expression of pure ecstasy to memory. so beautiful.

his breath was ragged, a gravel texture to his voice that gave crybaby goosebumps, “love you… like an angel while ‘m doing dirty shit t’you. fuckin’… depraved and ungodly shit.”

she was hiccuping and writhing, almost to the precipice of that little death. from the way his navel continuously bumped her puffy clit. the pressure just right, his gaze so intense, his hands so rough—

crybaby came with a sob, babbling dumbly through ‘thank you’s and ‘i love you’s. her body was shivering and trying to squirm away from the blond boy. rafe caught her, working her through the sensations patiently. he pushed her onto her back and settled back into her warmth, pussy eagerly accepting his hard length with a squelch.

“get your lamb, there you go, atta girl—“

a soft white stuffed lamb was thrusted into her arms, limbs like jelly but clinging to the familiar source of comfort. her tears soaked into the plush of the animal and she bit the ear to muffle the choked cries that involuntarily left her mouth.

her pathetic little head lolled to the side into his forearm, nose nuzzling the warm skin. listening to the muffled sounds of his grunts and praises. she could feel him in her stomach — hazy eyes floating down to where they’re connected. a creamy ring collecting around his base and creating even worse sounds.

but crybaby couldn’t find it in herself to care anymore. their gazes connected and she felt the pleasure build once more. one objective on her mind:

it can’t get more ungodly than letting him fill her to the brim.

[deansbeer]

prized possession ⎯⎯ DEAN WINCHESTER.

⎯⎯ DEMON!DEAN decides to keep your soaked lace panties, because it drives his heightened senses wild for you. and the guy is not one bit shameful about it.

♡ KARI YAPS! god, hes such a freak && i love it sm. i thought of this idea w @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc earlier in the day bc i fear demon!dean's corrupted my mind entirely.

♡ WARNING(S) filthy smut | oral sex (f!receiving) | possessive!dean | overstimulation | power dynamics | dom!dean | praise kink | lace panties kink (?) | explicit language | little bit of manhandling. mdni ♱ 18 plus. adult content.

📖 JACKLES library.

sex with dean has always been intense, but now that he's a demon, it's on a whole other level—like everything about him, his hunger for you has amplified tenfold. every time he touches you, it's like he's trying to ruin you, to mark you in a way that'll never fully fade. and when it's over, he's always got that cocky, unbothered smirk that drives you insane. tonight's no different.

you're sprawled out on the bed, still catching your breath, your body a trembling mess from what he just put you through. he's leaning against the wall now, shirtless, his jeans hanging low on his hips. his hair is a mess, his lips still swollen from kissing every inch of you, and yet he looks like the devil himself—because, well, technically he is.

you roll onto your side, groaning softly as you reach out for your panties, the pretty black lace pair you'd been wearing before he tore them off of you like they'd offended him.

except… they're not there.

"dean," you say, your voice sharp despite how wrecked you feel. "where the hell are my panties?"

he raises an eyebrow, looking at you like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "what panties?"

"don't play dumb, winchester," you huff, sitting up on the bed and glaring at him. "the black lace ones. the ones you just ripped off me."

a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and your stomach sinks. "oh, those," he says, pushing off the wall and heading for the door. "yeah, those are mine now."

your jaw drops. "what the fuck do you mean 'yours'?"

he shrugs, completely unfazed. "i mean i'm keepin' 'em. they're soaked, sweetheart. absolutely drenched. you think i'm just gonna let you throw those in the laundry like they're not a fuckin' work of art?"

you grab a pillow and chuck it at him, but he dodges it easily, laughing as he disappears out the door. "un-fucking-believable," you mutter, shaking your head. luckily, you're home—so you grab another clean pair of panties from your dresser and slip them on, grumbling to yourself about how ridiculous he is.

you think that's the end of it. you really do. but then, over the next few days, you start to notice something… weird. for one, the black lace panties are nowhere to be found in your dirty laundry, even though you were sure he'd just been messing with you. and two, dean's been acting a little… off. not in a bad way! but in a way that makes your face flush whenever he looks at you. like he knows something you don't.

it's not until one night that you catch him red-handed. you're heading down the hallway, on your way to grab some water, when you spot him leaning against the wall, his back to you. at first, you don't think much of it—until you see what he's holding in his hand.

your fucking panties.

you stop dead in your tracks, your mouth falling open as you watch him lift them to his nose and take a deep, slow inhale, his eyes fluttering shut like he's savoring the scent.

"are you kidding me?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

he doesn't even flinch. instead, he turns to you, completely unabashedly, holding the panties up like a trophy. "nah," he says, smirking. "not kidding."

"dean," you groan, your voice low but stern as you stalk toward him. "you've kept those this whole time? what is wrong with you?"

"what's wrong with me?" he repeats, his grin widening as he tucks the panties into his back pocket like they belong there. "what’s wrong with you? you're the one who smells like that."

you gape at him, heat flushing down the back of your neck. "i don't even—what does that even mean?"

he steps closer, crowding into your space, and you can feel the heat rolling off him, thick and heavy. "it means, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "that every time i get a whiff of these"—he pats his pocket—"i wanna fuck you all over again. so, yeah, i kept 'em. you got a problem with that?"

you're speechless, torn between being upset and… turned on. because of course you're turned on. he's DEAN WINCHESTER, and he's looking at you like he's seconds away from devouring you.

"you're insane," you manage, shaking your head.

"yeah?" he drawls, his hand curling around your waist. "well, you're about to be."

before you can respond, he's grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. you yelp, your palms against his back to steady yourself, but he doesn't even slow down, carrying you straight to the bedroom.

"dean! put me down!" you protest, but he just chuckles, slapping your ass hard enough to make you gasp.

"not a chance, baby," he says, tossing you onto the bed like a rag doll.

you barely have time to sit up before he's on you, yanking at your jeans with a single-minded determination that has your heart racing. "dean—"

"shut up," he growls, his voice dark and commanding as he strips you down, practically ripping your panties off in the process. "you've been walkin' around all day with this fuckin' scent, drivin' me insane. you think i'm just gonna let that slide?"

before you can answer, his mouth is on you, his tongue dragging through your folds like he's starved. he grips your thighs, holding you open as he devours you, his light stubble scratching against your sensitive skin.

"fuck," he groans, pulling back just enough to look at you, his lips glistening. "you taste good, babydoll. could do this for hours."

your head falls back against the bed, a moan slipping from your lips as he plunges back in, licking and sucking like he's on a mission. his grip tightens when you try to squirm away, his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you in place.

"dean—mmm, fuck, shit—" you whimper, your hands tugging at his hair.

"you can do it," he growls against you, the vibrations making you shudder. "and you fuckin' will."

he doesn't stop, doesn't let up, and soon you're trembling beneath him, the pressure building low in your belly until it snaps, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

he doesn't pull away, even as you try to push at his shoulders, too sensitive to handle the way his tongue keeps teasing your clit. "oh, fuck! dean—s'too much—"

"nah," he mutters, his voice muffled against you. "not done yet."

and he means it. by the time he's finished with you, you're a wreck—sweaty, breathless, and completely at his mercy. he finally pulls back, his lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"told you," he says, leaning down to kiss you, slow and filthy. "you're fuckin' addictive, sweetheart."

you're too exhausted to respond, but the look in his eyes tells you this isn't the last time he't pulling a stunt like this. and honestly? you don't really mind.

[konigsblog]

OCTOBER 31ST — CREEP!KÖNIG. Halloween parties are only fun when everyone's drunk and tipsy, too inebriated to think clearly. Nobody bats an eye when König stumbles into a frat party wearing a mask, dragging an intoxicated woman off alongside him. (NON-CON)

Note: Happy Halloween! 🎃🦇

Photo credits xbruised_peachx on X/🐦

TW/CW: RAPE/INTOXICATION. MDNI 18+

2024 KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. (DAY 31)

Halloween is the one night a year you get to wear practically nothing, get ridiculously drunk, and get away with it. You know you'll find yourself hanging over the edge of a bucket, spewing your guts out in the middle of the night, full of nausea from drinking too much.

However, things are slightly more sinister and taboo for König, who takes advantage of this day in the most wicked way you could think of. This is the one night a year he can wear a mask without question, hiding his identity from those around him. The only night that you don't suspect a real monster to be lingering around. And König has his perverted, predatory gaze on you. A thirty-something year old man stumbling into a frat party, his eyes preying on an inebriated slut wearing nothing but a pair of animal years and a tiny, skimpy skirt, doing nothing to spare you some dignity.

No one would bat an eye at two dressed up strangers pulling each other into the bathroom, practically tugging at each other's clothes in front of everyone. And you're too tipsy to fight back or think clearly, not defending yourself as his calloused hands spread your thighs apart before you can even fully open your eyes again, the smell of booze pungent in the air and burning your nostrils. Disgust overwhelms you, but his reassuring voice is almost claiming, sickeningly sweet as your body reacts to his wet tongue against your hole, your gut feeling warning you to protect yourself before he overpowers you. The door is locked shut, and your back is pressed against the bathroom wall before you're forced over a counter, your vision blurring with your tears and unconsciousness.

“Verdammt, du weißt, was du tust. Du trägst so einen kleinen Rock. Du hast darum gebeten.” A gravelly voice announces from behind you with each sloppy thrust, spoken through gritted teeth and behind a deep and hoarse grumble. You don't see his face, concealed by a dark veil, with two holes for his eyes. You weep through the agony of the stretch, your eyes barely making out the crimson coating your bare skin, dripping from you like a leaking faucet. Your eyes quickly form tears, becoming bleary, your once perfect Halloween makeup now ruined and smudged, the colour of your lipstick staining the girth of his cock.

You're awoken several times, different positions, different horrifying acts being inflicted onto you. He holds a sharpened knife to your nape, whether it's a prop for his costume or not, you're not sure, but you're not willing to test him. You lay there, gagging at his actions and the deep thrusts meeting your rear, the prickliness of his pubes scratching your thighs and the agonising, concerning stretch that feels disgustingly unfamiliar. Your pussy sobs around him; drooling, leaking. Your head throbs, and your throat aches and burns, his seed spurted deep within you earning him a mortified cry.

Oh, you'll regret wearing such a skimpy outfit, won't you? Especially when you're hunched over, panting and coughing up last night's drinks, your entire body aching and his greedy touch staining your skin.

[lymtw]

Birthday Shenanigans

What business do you have outside of bed—outside of Toji's arms—so early in the morning, on your day off? It never feels right to wake up without you by his side, but today, it feels worse to wake up alone. He's been sleeping on his side of the bed for hours, staying warm, yet, at the discovery of you missing beside him, he almost gets whiplash with how quickly it feels like he's been tossed onto a bed made of snow. He's freezing, and you're to blame. There's a heaviness in his chest that only worsens as he drags his hand back and forth over your side of the bed. None of your warmth remains, meaning you've been gone for a bit. You couldn't have woken him up? Today is supposed to be about him, yet, all he wants to do is spend the whole day with you.

Once Toji fully wakes up, he sits up and prepares to go to the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast. A sticky note that is stuck to your pillow grabs his attention. He peels it off your pillow and takes in the simplistic drawing consisting of two stick figures resembling you and Toji, lying in bed, kissing. This already brings a little smile to his face, but when he reads the caption written in your handwriting-- (Since we didn't get to share our morning kiss, please enjoy this renaissance painting I made of what I think that would've looked like <3) --he lets out a small chuckle and folds the sticky note, before putting it away in the first drawer of his nightstand. He puts on a shirt and some sweatpants and leaves the room, not even bothering to make the bed.

As he's walking past the front door, it aggressively swings open and scares the hell out of him. You're there with your hands and arms riddled with bags. Grocery bags filled to the brim, a few bags from some clothing stores, and one smaller bag from a fragrance store. You have a small box in your hands with the logo of the bakery that is a few streets away from the house.

"Oh, hi, baby! Happy birthday," you say, standing on your tippy toes, which Toji understands as the signal for him to lean down a little. You place a quick peck on Toji's scar, and before he can get a word in, you run off to the kitchen, not even closing the door behind you. Toji shakes his head with a grin and shuts the door, before going after you. He silently watches you scramble to put the bags down in an organized manner. You set the small box from the bakery and the groceries down on the kitchen counter, while the other bags are temporarily set down on the ground.

"Hmm... Oh!" You grab the small box and the pack of small striped candles and take it with you to the counter by the sink. You carelessly rip open the pack of candles and open the box, smiling when you see the single, chocolate flavored cupcake, decorated with a blue flower made of frosting. All is going well, until you can't find the lighter that is usually in the drawer you store the dishrags in. You lift all of the small stacks of towels and can't find it anywhere.

"Where could it be?" You mumble to yourself.

"What's up, ma?" Toji asks, curiosity getting the better of him when he sees you continue to rifle around the drawer, clearly in search of something.

You sigh, defeatedly, and shut the drawer. "Turn around, please."

Toji does as you say and turns around, not wanting to stress you out. He has a feeling this is something for him, too, so he wouldn't want to ruin whatever it is you have planned.

You put the cupcake on a plate and grab one of the blue and white striped candles, taking it with you to the counter by the stove. You turn on the stove and put the candle wick to the flame, watching it quickly light up, before turning the stove off, again. You put the candle on the cupcake and slowly make your way over to Toji, who is leaning on the opposite side of the counter, facing away from you like you asked him to.

"Baby," you call, smiling when his attention goes to you before it goes to the flame you are indirectly holding. He smiles softly at the small pastry you present to him. "The lady at the bakery tried to sell me a cupcake with a red rose and I told her, 'no, he likes blue'. Then she still tried to sell me one with a sunflower on it and I said, 'no, it has to be blue'. So, look, I got you a cupcake with a blue flower, baby. Their specialty is definitely flowers, because I promise you, that green cupcake did not look like a Stegosaurus." Toji chuckles at the rambled, silly recap of your experience at the bakery. "Now, make a wish, before the wax melts and gets all over it," you say, holding up the plate for him.

Toji's gaze remains set on you as he mentally makes his wish. He looks at you for a long time, long enough for the blue and white wax to start dripping down onto the cupcake. A few of those seconds were spent just thinking, because what is there to wish for when he has everything he needs? A home, a job that pays the bills and puts food on the table, something to get around in, and best of all, an unlimited source of love and support.

Then, he knows it.

He considers who you are to him. You lit up his life, again, and he can't wait to spend all the years to come, with you. Because of his big, beefy, tough guy appearance, he knows it would give you a good laugh if he ever told you that being around you makes fluttering little butterflies flood his stomach. He'll say it out loud to you someday, just to hear you laugh. Frankly, you deserve it, because before you, he could count on his hands the amount of times he had laughed so hard and for so long that his stomach felt sore. Being around you has turned it into almost a daily occurrence, and all he can wish for is years, decades, and the appearance of grey hairs and wrinkles with you.

You laugh. You laugh at how he ignored your warning about the candle wax, you laugh at the utterly soft look on his face. You feel giddy as you watch those green eyes of his, tracing your face and taking in every feature on it. Like anybody who can't read minds, you wonder what he wished for, even when you know it's something that is never meant to be said out loud.

Before you can even process it, the candle is blown out and the plate is being taken out of your hands and placed on the counter. Toji wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close enough to rest his forehead against yours. He knocks his nose against yours a couple times, a gesture that lures an unfaltering grin onto his face at the sound of your giggles.

"You're the best, doll. You didn't have to--"

You shut him up, instantly, with a kiss. It's soft and warm and delicate. It's everything that he loves about you, wrapped up in the sweetest touch.

"Yes, I did. Don't even, my love," you assure, smiling as you rub his chest. "I'm so lucky to get to celebrate you, baby. I love you, and i'm happy you're here. Those two reasons are enough on their own for me to willingly wake up at five in the morning and run around store to store like a headless chicken, so I could get home before you woke up. Clearly, you had different plans," you say, reciprocating his smile. Your hand raises to cup his cheek and your thumb strokes his soft skin, tenderly. "All of this is from me to you. Please, let me show you how much you mean to me."

It didn't take much convincing. Toji was on board the moment you killed his denial of these extra things being necessary to celebrate another day of living, another year of getting older. Your trying little kisses don't hurt, though. If this is your way of begging to show him extra love—by showing him extra love—then who is he to reject your affection?

"Please, pretty please, please, pleaseeeee, please-"

"Shh, baby." His index finger goes over your lips. He smiles at how obedient you are—birthday treatment. Normally, whenever he does that, you try to bite his finger in a playful manner. "I woke up alone in bed this morning. That kinda sucked."

"I'm sorry," you say, against his finger.

"I liked your renaissance painting," he says, a smirk forming on his lips when he feels a breath of a laugh from you on his skin. "Couldn't help but feel a little jealous that a few scribbles got more lip locking action, first thing in the morning, than I did." He sighs, almost like he's wounded by the remembrance of reaching for you and being met with an empty space. "How ever will you make it up to me?" His finger slides down your lips, causing the bottom one to bounce back after he pulled it down.

"I'll give you all the kisses and a bonus kiss." You nod, proudly, at your offer.

"Mhm, that's pretty good so far. What else?"

"What else do you want? I'm up for anything today."

You don't miss the movement of his hands on your waist, subtly maneuvering so that his fingers lift your shirt the slightest bit, allowing him to graze your bare skin. The glimmer of mischief that almost immediately appears in his eyes and the unfaltering smirk on his face, make it so that it's not necessary for him to word what he will eventually want to do with you. Your face goes warm at the thought, but you just laugh it off.

"Do you know what time it is, right now?" Toji asks, more to chide you for being out of bed so early, than for the purpose of knowing the time.

"Almost eight, no?" You take your phone out of your pocket and check. "Seven thirty," you confirm, showing him your screen.

"It's seven thirty in the morning, ma. What are we doing awake at seven thirty in the morning, on our day off?"

"I was on a mission, I don't know about you."

He scoffs. "Oh, kill that. You do know about me."

Simple. Toji doesn't like sleeping without you. He likes knowing you're getting your rest next to him and he loves the ongoing, intimate, physical contact. Even if he's not full on spooning you, he's always touching you. Whether it's his face buried in your chest, his legs tangled with yours, his elbow digging into your back or even his head pressed into your shoulder, he's always touching you.

"Let's go back to bed," he says, placing a peck on your forehead, before resting his chin on top of your head. "Just for a little longer."

"You don't want breakfast?"

He shakes his head, in response. "I want you to sleep with me."

"I can make something quick," you insist.

"Do I have to throw you over my shoulder and drag you away?"

"No, sir," you say, with mock seriousness. "I'm going." You wiggle out of his hold and barely manage to take two steps, before you feel his hand swat at your ass. You gasp, dramatically, and turn around to look at him, your widened eyes being the most prominent feature of your surprised expression.

Toji snickers, unable to stay serious when you look at him like he did something life altering to you. "Run. If I catch you, we're staying in bed all day."

Nothing else needed to be said for you to start sprinting towards the room. You've been awake since five in the morning to ensure that these celebratory plans are followed through with, properly. You can't stay in bed all day, so it's a good thing Toji didn't chase you to the room.

Once Toji slides into bed and finds your body under the covers, he completely encompasses you in his hold. His front is flush against your back, his arm strewn across your waist, and his face is pressed to the nape of your neck. He's made himself comfortable, having gone as far as to slightly overlap your leg with his. It doesn't take very long for Toji to fall asleep this way. You're his own personal cuddle bug and the reason he sleeps like a hibernating bear every night, down to the brief snoring he makes you endure before he wakes himself up with the loudness.

You wake up a few hours later, pulling Toji out of sleep as well, because of all your movement. You smile when he grunts and buries his face in your chest, in an attempt to go back to sleep.

"Was that not enough time?" You ask, running your fingers through his hair.

"Mm-mm," he hums, quietly. He's starting to move around more, mostly pawing at you to keep you close, so you don't leave him.

"We have to get up soon. We slept through the rest of the morning," you say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. The tenderness of the gesture just makes him want to stay in bed with you for longer.

"Mm," he hums, once again, the sound coming off as dismissive.

"Sounds like you don't want your morning-turned-afternoon kisses, before we get up. You would rather stay asleep, huh?"

Now, that grabs his attention.

He moves away from your chest and just stares at you with his sleep ridden eyes and a pout that you know he would deny is a pout if you mentioned it.

"Oh, you're awake. I knew it," you say, with a teasing grin. You know he's ready when his eyes keep flitting between your eyes and your lips, silently signaling to you what he wants. "Alright, alright. Don't yell at me," you jest. You lean in and press a quick peck on his lips, then another, and another, until it's quick bursts of kisses that make him want to laugh. "Come on. Keep up. You know I try my hardest when you do this to me."

As if he's insulted by your taunting, he rolls on top of you and traps you beneath him, returning all your kisses while you're distracted, laughing at the sudden crushing weight of his body on yours.

"Keep up," Toji throws at you, this time, in his slightly raspy voice. "Come on, kiss me back. Keep up," he repeats, not even giving you a chance to respond before he's back to smothering you, again. He laughs when you end up surrendering, welcoming defeat by just lying there in a giggle fit. "It's like... a million to nothing, ma."

A few more giggles flow past your lips, your smile lingering once you somewhat collect yourself. "Best million to nothing ever. I'll get you, tomorrow." You don't promise or swear it, because just by looking at his face, now, you think you just might lose, again. You have a very strong feeling about it.

Toji simply gives you a low "mhm" and smirks, confidently, because he knows that you will be in this position, again, tomorrow morning.

"Well... now that you're awake, we can finally leave the bed." Toji's reaction to that is the most dramatic groan ever, but when you tell him that he can stay in bed while you "do stuff" in the kitchen, he refuses and follows you. It's great, but he almost makes you burn the food a couple times.

"Toji- Baby." You laugh, when he clings to your back and buries his face in your neck. "Go sit down and eat your cupcake."

"Mm-mm. Saving room for you," he mumbles.

"You're so..." You can't even finish the sentence, the shaking of your head and the curl of your lips doing wonders to reveal your flustered state.

"Romantic?" He asks, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, as if to give you more proof. He smirks against your skin when you freeze, like you're lost in thought. "Keep stirring, mama," he says, grinning when you snap out of your very brief daze and stir quickly to make up for your lack of focus.

"You're gonna make me burn your food," you chide. You reach behind you with your free hand and try to push him back, but he doesn't budge.

"Nah, nah. I'm looking out for you," he corrects.

You turn off the stove and turn to him. "Listen. You're a very handsome distraction, but you're going to make me burn the entire kitchen down if you keep doing what you're doing."

"Which is?" He questions, standing right in front of you. He loves how easy it is for him to have you cheesing.

"Being romantic. You know what you're doing! Stop being cute," you say, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from giggling and egging him on.

"Just say you need my help, pretty," he says, his voice and the placement of his hands on your hips, indicating that there's a double meaning to the sentence. For now, you choose to ignore the one that doesn't involve cooking.

"Okay, then. Help me wash, peel, and cut the potatoes, please."

It's hard not to laugh at his reaction—the quiet 'tsk' sound and the subtle twitch of his lips. He looks like he was expecting you to stop cooking, to take a brief intermission with him. The disillusioned look on his face is quickly traded for an expression that says 'i'll get you'. It's a smirk and something feral hidden in those dark eyes.

"Sure thing," he replies, squeezing your hips a couple times between his enormous hands.

You would think having help in the kitchen would expedite the process of getting things done, but it was the opposite when it came to Toji helping you out. If he's not distracting you, he's distracted by you.

Instead of finishing the task you gave him, he turns around and watches you cut vegetables like it's one of the most interesting things he's ever seen.

"Damn, ma. Look at you go," he says, watching the smooth, back and forth motion of the knife you are using and listening to the consistent, rhythmic sound of the blade on the cutting board. He's mesmerized—you make it look like art.

You put the knife down, unable to contain your laugh when he keeps watching you. "Almost done, Toji?" You ask, turning to look at him.

"Yeah, yeah," he responds, before turning around, again.

Somehow, after all the pauses and distractions, and the swatting at Toji's hands when he would pick at the food, claiming multiple times that he was doing a taste test, the food was finally finished.

"The house smells fucking amazing, doll. We did that," Toji says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you as you finish washing the cutting board.

"We did," you agree, grinning at how proud he is of the results of your conjoined efforts. "How does it taste?" You ask, washing the dish soap off the cutting board.

"Perfect," he murmurs, in your ear. "Not as good as-"

"Don't say it. Don't say it." You turn off the water and turn to look at the menacing smirk on his face.

"-you," he finishes, without hesitation, and almost instantly, you smack his chest, earning a chuckle from him. "What? You don't wanna be my dessert?"

"Oh my god, Toji," you groan, walking away from him to grab some plates.

The cupcake you got him did not go to waste. You both had one of those 'I need something sweet' moments, once you finished eating. After a couple more eye rolls from you towards his suggestive remarks, Toji being the kind soul he is, shared the dessert. He took one enormous bite of it—bits of candle wax and all—and then gave you the rest. It definitely hit the spot, and watching Toji get frustrated every time he asked if his lips and teeth were still blue, has become one of the many core memories you have with him.

"Gifts?" You ask, drying your hands after washing your plate and putting it away.

Toji sighs. "What did you do, ma?"

You smile at him, mischievously, and beckon him to come with you. You pick up all the bags you left on the floor and lead him to the couch, where you set them down. The second he sees how many bags there are, he shakes his head, and you know what he's thinking—'you didn't have to'. It's written all over his face, so in an attempt to steer away those thoughts, you rub his chest, like you did before, and smile.

"Open them."

For someone who was iffy about receiving gifts, he sure went through the opening process quickly. After pulling out the paper tissue you awkwardly fluffed and placed in each bag to hide what was in it, he scanned what was at the bottom of each bag before pulling the items out as well. Shirts, pants, gym shorts and sweatpants, a new coffee mug—he inspects all of the items, closely, with a soft smile on his face.

"Everything else is in black, why the navy blue jacket?"

"You look hot in navy blue."

Case closed.

"Oh shit. What is this, doll?" Toji asks, picking up the smaller, gift bag with the crispy, bold font on it. This gift in particular caught his eye, because it's something he knows for sure both of you like. You watch with a beaming smile as he pulls out the blue box, a low chuckle leaving him when he reads the name of the elegant cologne. "Remember that time you said just sniffing this would get you pregnant?" He asks, as he rips the plastic covering off the box and opens it, bringing out the even more elegant looking bottle.

"Yeah, you have to stay away from me if you're gonna wear that. From here to the kitchen, that's the distance you have to-"

The fragrance lands like mist on your face. It immediately overpowers the smell of the food you and Toji made, and fills your nostrils with the manliest, sexiest, most perilous scent you have ever smelled. It has your heart racing. It's Toji. You smell it and all your thoughts lock in on him. Toji, Toji, Toji, like a siren blaring in your head.

"How you doing, mama?" Toji asks, grinning fiendishly at your stunned reaction. "Smells real nice, huh?"

You stop buffering and take in the teasing smirk on his face. This would be the second time, today, that you look at him like he did something life changing to you.

"We should go to the beach," you suggest. You're calm and collected on the outside, frenzied and bouncing off the walls on the inside. A trip to the beach sounds good.

"That's random. Why do you wanna go to the beach?" He asks, putting the cologne back in its box.

"Let's catch a sunset and get you out of the house for a while," you elaborate. "Do you really want to spend the whole day in here?"

"I do wanna spend the whole day here," Toji responds, stepping towards you. "Just me and you, relaxing in bed together. Doesn't that sound way better than the beach?" He asks.

You can't even pretend like he's wrong when he looks at you like that. Like going outside after getting so comfortable and reveling in the warm atmosphere created in your home, would be worse than when he woke up alone in the morning.

"Let's stay here and keep each other warm," he says, pulling you into him. His arms act like vines around your waist, tightening to keep you close.

"Sure," you respond, a soft smile on your face as you look into his eyes. "We can stay inside."

When Toji leaned in to peck your lips, he really considered turning it into another competition to see who could get more kisses in. He was going for another win, aiming to overpower you with speed and quantity, to end it the way he always does—smothering your entire face with kisses, while you laugh through your sweet defeat—but when he felt your fingers drag over his back, right before you balled up his shirt in your hands, he decided to mind your gentleness and reciprocate it. He even smiled into a few of the kisses, to settle down the urge he felt to laugh, because he could smell his cologne on your face.

Toji took your hand and dragged you with him to the bedroom, once he broke the kiss. There, you spent your time cuddling, kissing, talking, and making love, each act done separately, but just as easily melted together into one act. You even got to see your sunset through the bedroom window, with your cheek and your hands pressed to the glass that kept fogging up.

By the end of the day, you were both spent, but still remained inseparable—not even a shower called for being apart. When it was time to go to sleep, you kept your face buried in Toji's neck. You pressed so many gentle kisses to his skin, while mumbling quiet, sleepy 'I love you's, that he hummed in response to, when he was't tiredly saying it back.