#shower knee wall

[crappyassdrawings]

Philadelphia Bathroom Example of a mid-sized trendy kids' white tile and porcelain tile porcelain tile and gray floor corner shower design with furniture-like cabinets, black cabinets, a two-piece toilet, brown walls, an integrated sink, quartz countertops and white countertops

[leatherbookmark]

*displays complete lack of understanding for fics in which characters have non-christianvanilla sex while at the same time being extremely bashful and panicky every time other people mention sex, even theoretically*

[llegato]

okay what the fuck

[milktiicup]

are you afraid of me?

what the hell type of name is "mr. crawling" if he can fucking walk?

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ based on the hc that mr crawling doesn't stand so he doesn't scare mc.

warnings. just fluff/comfort, some spoilers for end04 and end17

Mr. Crawling is kind.

Mr. Crawling is sweet.

Mr. Crawling is a complete mystery to you.

Other than his complete and instant devotion to you, you know almost nothing about him. Not that you’re complaining; since escaping the other world with him in tow, he’s been a pretty decent roommate.

He doesn’t have many hobbies, unless staring at you from across the room counts. The only mess he leaves is long, black hairs that snake along the shower walls and more often than not clog the drain. He doesn’t even eat your food—something you discovered after a week of trial and error, setting out everything from leftovers to raw steak in the hopes of figuring out what a creature like him might like. As it turns out, he isn’t much of an eater, and he refuses to wear anything but the clothes he crossed over in, so at least you didn’t need to buy him new clothes. He’s low-maintenance in those areas, thankfully, and your paycheck doesn’t take a huge hit. 

Still, as close as you are, and as much as you’ve grown fond of him, you know nothing about who or what he truly is. Can he stand? Does he even have eyeballs? You know he can see, somehow, but how? Does he have teeth? You’re not even sure there’s a word for teeth in his language… Would he need a dentist? As most of your Mr. Crawling mouth knowledge went, you knew he had a tongue. 

The days pass, you fall into routines, and so do your questions.

“Crawling,” you had said one night, settled up on the sofa after a long day at work.  “Why can’t you stand?”

Mr. Crawling looks up from the screen, his wide smile faltering as he absorbs your question. His hair falls across his face, hiding whatever might be behind those red blotches he has for eyes.

“Me… not able to stand,” he replies, waving abnormally long limbs. “Arms good!” He seems proud, at least. 

You purse your lips out in thought- sure, he had those spindly legs, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t use them. You witnessed first hand the way he kicks his legs about under the blanket, unsettling cracks of his joints. Or when he sits up on his knees to fetch something on the counter top that he couldn’t reach from the floor. 

“You want me stand?”

“No, Crawling, I like you like this.” And you finished the conversation with a few pats on his head, and he nuzzled into your knee as if he was a pet. 

“You like me?”

You nod.

“Me like you!”

Low maintenance in the roommate department, high maintenance in the boyfriend? department.

You settle into bed that night after serving Mr Crawling his completely normal human soup that you definitely obtained by very legal and moral ways. Although, he didn’t seem very hungry that night, and you decided to just keep it for later. You debated on leaving it out in case he got hungry during the night when you were asleep, but seeing as to what the contents were, you weren’t up for it to stink out your kitchen. Back in the fridge it went!

“Rest?” he asks from the doorway of your bedroom, eyeless staring as you settle on the mattress. 

“I rest. You rest?” You pat the spot beside you. 

“Me watch you.”

Whatta guy… You wait for him to join you before you pull the blanket to your chin. And just like every other night, Mr. Crawling wraps his long arms around you, joints cracking as he stretches his legs out on the blanket- his feet hang off the bed. His hair tickles every exposed inch of your skin, but you don’t mind. You’ve gotten used to it at this point- maybe you should teach him to brush his own hair though?

His touch is cool, like air from a drafty window, and you relax under his delicate, careful pats on your head. It’s not long before you drift off.

It’s rare that you wake up in the dead of night. It’s rarer when you wake up to him not in the same position you fell asleep in. Groggy, you reach an arm out to the other side of the bed and hit the space where Mr. Crawling should have been. It’s still warm, however, and you sit up and rub your eyes. He’s not here.

What the hell? That wasn’t like him.

You slip into your slippers and shuffle toward the kitchen. The house is dark and still, except for a faint rustling. When your vision adjusts, you stop in your tracks. You were pretty sure your heart stopped for a second, too. 

He hadn’t noticed you yet, which is unlike him. 

“C-Crawling?” you stammer. 

Mr. Crawling is there, long arms in your fridge, but he isn’t small and folded like usual. He’s… standing. You blink, barely processing the sight. He has to be at least eight feet tall, maybe more, his head brushing the ceiling. His towering shadow spills over the walls, unsettling even to someone like you.

He freezes, letting out a startled squeak you’ve never heard before. His head whips toward you, and his hair falls in a curtain over his face. He drops to his knees instantly, scrambling across the floor to you with long, frantic arms. He tackles you into an overzealous hug, the kind you usually get only when you come home from work.

“You awake!”

You blink down at him. “I thought you said you couldn’t stand?” you murmur, still dazed. He lied? Why would he lie? Is there even a word for lie in his language?

His hair fans at your face, elbows propping himself up on top of you. Mr. Crawling tilts his head at you, and you wrack your brain in this stupid monster language that you just can’t perfectly adjust to yet.

“Uhm… You stand good?” you manage to fumble the words out. You stand good. That just sounds ridiculous. “Legs work?”

Mr. Crawling lets you sit up, grey hands cupping your face. He seems… off. Sad? Worried? You’ve only seen him not smiling a few times- and that was when you first met him- when he scared the absolute daylights off of you, when that man in red with the umbrella appeared… There was also that time you collapsed, and that creepy, eyeless nurse showed up.

“You scared me?” he asks, his tone soft.

Are you scared of me? 

“You don’t stand because you think you’ll scare me?” you mumble, hands holding onto his wrists. “Erm… Not stand… me scared?” 

“Me scary… You not like me.” His head hangs and Mr. Crawling’s hair touches the floor and licks at your legs.. His gentle hold of your face loosens.

He doesn’t stand at his full height because he’s afraid he’ll scare you? God. How can a ghost be such a sweetheart?

“Hey,” you whisper, pulling his hands off your face. You wrap your arms around his neck, tilting your head so you can see where his eyes should be. “You’re cute. Very big, yes—I was just surprised.”

“You… not scared?” His voice is uncertain.

You giggle, squeezing him tighter. “No. Just surprised.” He doesn’t understand you- and you need to wrack every shelf in your brain to get the words out. “Me surprised… you very cute.”

There’s a beat of silence as he absorbs your words. “Me cute?” he repeats, as if it’s the greatest revelation in the world.

“Very cute,” you confirm, unable to help laughing as he tackles you once again to the floor, hair scattering everywhere as he nuzzles into your chest, murmuring, “Me cute, me cute,” in a gleeful mantra. You pat his head, and he flops onto the floor beside you with a giggle.

You stare at him, illuminated by the extremely romantic light of the fridge. “Hungry?” you ask, and push some of his hair away from his face- he grabs your wrist before you get any closer to his eyes, though.

“Want eat… you rest.”

You shake your head, stifling a yawn. “I’ll wait for you. I… erm… rest with you?” You cringe, knowing you said it wrong. You’re at least seventy percent sure you said it wrong. Maybe it’s time to teach him your language.

Mr. Crawling lets out his normal unsettling giggles, a sound that cuts through the silence of the house.

You don’t bother getting his tomato soup out of the fridge like you usually do, and take a seat at the table. He looks lost for a split second, and giggles once more as he rises to his feet. You let out a few appreciative oohs and ahhs he reaches his full height. You’re still a bit shocked at how his head almost touches the ceiling.

He settles into his usual seat across from you, knees folded as best as they can be under the table, his feet brushing against your legs.

It’s like a lightbulb appears above your head.

What the hell type of name is “Mr. Crawling” if he can fucking walk? 

[thebibliosphere]

I’ve had an increase in rainbow aura with my migraines lately (I used to get them once a year, if that. Now, I’ve had it twice in one month) so I’ve become somewhat paranoid whenever something flashes over my vision.

Sometimes, it's just light reflecting off my phone, but it still makes me freeze up in a fear response when it happens because it usually means I’ve got about 20 minutes before I’m in agony.

Apparently, this new paranoia extends into my dreams now, too, because I was running down a long corridor, aware that there was something behind me that I needed to escape, but all of a sudden, in my dream, rainbow zigzags consumed my vision, and I stopped, dead and went, “fuck, migraine.”

That's when I became aware of James Bond/Daniel Craig standing beside me, gun drawn.

“Oh, shit. Do you need to lie down?” he asked while I stared at him.

I said, “What about the thing chasing us?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. If you need to lie down you can lie down. I’ll just kill them.”

I blinked at him for a bit, still winded from running then said, “Sure,” starting to get to my knees, ready to lie down on the cold stone floor beneath us.

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Kill ‘em. I’m just gonna...” I gestured vaguely at the floor. “Be right here, I guess.”

“You can go upstairs, you know,” he said, loading a fresh clip into his gun. “This museum has a hotel on top of it.”

“Oh good,” I said, starting to suspect this was a dream and not Daniel Craig about to murder the people chasing me because I had a migraine. “I’ll do that then.”

So I got back up and started climbing the stairs that looked an awful lot like the stairs in the Kelvin Grove Art Gallery, only to abruptly walk into Deathstroke and Nightwing doing their best to kill each other in the corridor of what was clearly a hotel based on the room service tray Nightwing was using to deflect projectiles.

They froze. I looked at them. They looked at me. “I’ve got a migraine,” I said,

“Shit, sorry,” Nightwing said, putting down his tray as both men stepped back to let me walk down the decimated corridor. “We’ll be more quiet.”

“Room 13 is open,” Deathstroke helpfully informed me.

“Is there a body in it?” I asked, now leaning against the wall, less walking along, more sliding.

“Not anymore.”

“Do you need anything?” Nightwing asked, “pain killers? Ice pack?”

I waved them off and made my way into room 13 where David Jason dressed as Detective Jack Frost looked up at me from the book he was reading on the bed.

“This is a dream,” he informed me.

“No it isn’t,” I said, despite knowing it was as I hobbled over to the bed and flopped down beside him. “And this room was supposed to be empty.”

“Open, not empty,” corrected Jack Banon who had taken David Frost’s place, dressed like young Alfie from Pennyworth as he sat beside me on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. “There’s a very distinct difference between the two. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Who do you think moved the body?”

“I need to sleep,” I said, “if I can fall asleep, the migraine might go away.”

“That's all right,” he said. “You do that. I’ll make sure no one else comes in. Oh, just one thing before you do.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something I couldn't quite see and held it out to me. “You’ll need this.”

“What is it?” I said, my brain doing the dream thing where it refuses to read books or interpret numbers correctly. “I can’t see, what is it?”

“Oft, sorry. Can’t tell you that. More than my job’s worth.”

“You’re job...”

“Yeah.” and thats when he leaned over, stuck me with a needle and said, “Night night.”

And I woke up to the sound of @mothman-etd getting into the shower and Holly Mop wiggling under thre covers with me.

First words out of my mouth were, “What the fuck?”

And then I immediately pulled up Tumblr to write this down before I forget it because what the fuck.

Didn't wake up with a migraine though so... *knock on wood*

[ridingthatd]

❝ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 ❞

nanami, geto, toji, gojo, choso, sukuna, etc...

+18, nsfw, heavy smut, fisting, heavy kink, heavy breeding kink, filthiness, dirty, squirting, cumslut, osonomia, fucking while sleeping, fucking till you pass out, ass eating, spit kink, pissing, pet play, angry sex, rough sex, sex toys (pumper, vibrator, etc..), baby-trap, multiple orgasm, daddy kink, cumdump.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

nanami was a pervert. he indeed was, at first kento tried to deny it- he tried to deny the attraction he had toward you. his step daughter. he tried to deny the way his fat cock would leak through his pants every time he sees you walking around the house with your little pajamas shorts. he tried to deny the way the memory of your sweet scent had him stroking his throbbing cock every morning before work till he spills his warm cum on the shower walls.

but he couldn't deny it when he kneels next to the kitchen chair that you just sat on, when he press his face against the seat- it was warm, warm indicating that it wasn't long ago since your pretty little ass sat here. nanami groans, he huffs as he palms his cock, sniffing the seat with each stroke, his eyes rolling back at the fresh scent of yours. your plumpy delicious ass was sat there. his step daughters ass was sat there- he repeats in his mind, eyes rolling back his skull as he dreams about you sitting on his face instead.

as he dreams about eating your plumpy ass, slurping, licking your wetness. just one lick- his wet tongue peak out, licking the seat- the seat your ass sat on. he sloppily move his tongue against the fabric of the chair, drooling as he thinks about the taste of pussy juice- the taste of your ass. his spit was coating the seat, but he could careless as his hips shudder and his cum leak through the fabric of his pants.

he couldn't deny it when his eyes would sneak glances at the laundry his wife place outside to dry. his eyes focusing on the slutty little thongs of his step daughter. kento couldn't help the way he would steal one of your panties- one would turn into two. he couldn't help the way he went from stealing your fresh cleaned panties, to your used filthy ones. sneaking into the washing machine and digging in looking through the dirty laundry basket for your panties. his mouth drooling once he finds one- sniffing it, licking it making sure to coat it with his boiling seeds.

it felt dirty. filthy. the sexual attraction you had with your step dad, nothing was more filthy than the sneaky touchs, the sneaky glances kento would give you. his rough hands would make their way under the dinner table as your mom was distracted serving whatever she cooked for the day. you can feel the heatness of his hand slipping inside your booty shorts pajamas, just to give your clit a pinch through your panties. keeping a straight face as he blows out the smoke of his cigarette.

even if you're sitting on the opposite side of him at the dinner table- the table wasn't big enough to save you from him. he would go as far as man spreading his thick long legs till the front of his knees brush against your throbbing pussy. humping his knees against it, his jaw clenching hard as he feels the way you're gushing all over his leg, your juice slipping into the kitchen chair. making a mess, he wouldn't stop till there's tears building up in eyes. he wouldn't stop till you're so close to squirting, not caring that your mom is a foot away.

you and your step dad nanami, never really had any alone time expect the days his wife would go out with her friends so you always make sure to get the most out of it. kento wouldn't immediately lunch at you, suckling on your tongue sloppily the only sound that filled the house was the wet noises of your wet kiss. "fucking slut teasing your daddy like that yea? you wanted it this bad walking around with no panties on?" he growls next to your ear as he feels your bare pussy under your skirt.

you whine swaying your hips against his hard cock, your hands reaching to your pussy to remove the plug he made you wear but kento immediately beat you to it, shoving your hand away causing you to whimper. "no, no my little baby isn't gonna get daddies cock inside of her pussy today" he mutters placing wet kisses against your neck from behind, as he stroke his cock against your sensitive clit.

"daddy is gonna use the sweet little ass of yours" he whispers into your ear. before you had time to process what he said. kento tear through your ass, shoving his huge cock in one thrust, groaning at the way your ass hole immediately suck him in. your eyes cross, body shaking before you completely see black- passing out.

but that doesn't step nanami, as he use your body like a ragdoll, holding your leg up side way, while he slams you repeatedly into his fat cock. "aww my little baby couldn't handle it" he groans, pinching your nipples hard between his fingers. causing you to bludge away, sobbing from the overwhelming pain and pleasure that shoots through you.

"daddy-! ah! please no more! no more!" you choke on your sobs, clawing your nails against his biceps. but nanami only seems to enjoy the sting of your nails because he goes Inhumenly faster. your tits were bouncing everywhere.

"im gonna paint the little ass of your white" kento groans, his huge hand Involding your entire face, grabbing it to face him and shove his tongue past your lips. ringing the bell door sound was heard by the house door, indicating your mom was here.

that seems to send both of you to the edge, the filthy feeling of getting caught fucking his step daughter, had him empty his balls inside of your tight hole. the filthy feeling of getting caught fucking your step dad, had you squirting all over his abs, your juice dripping down his balls.

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𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 / 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

gojo and geto were twins, no body believed them when they said that. they don't blame them though. gojo having a white hair and light blue eyes was quite the opposite of getos dark hair and black eyes. they were quite the opposite personality wise too, since you knew them for a very long time. being their bff, you learned that gojo was the teasingly playful one. while geto was more of the quite one silently observing everything.

having a sleep over won't be this bad, right? at least this is what you thought. gojo and his brother geto had completely other plans. sleeping on the bed with geto on your right side and gojo on your left side wasn't your best idea. geto never felt this way, he was fuming at the mouth like a dog in heat, his cock leaking through the fabric of his boxer, his body was overwhelmed with excitement, pleasure as he lays down so close to you.

he can feel your body heatness, his cock keeps twitching, so eager to breed you, so ready to fill you. gojo was the first one to make his move. he hover his body over you from behind, placing his cock between your perky butt cheeks. his hot breath, fanning against your ear before he takes your ear lobe into his wet mouth, sloppily suckling on it. his whole body shudder as he slowly lifts up your nightgown.

"fuck, what a fucking slut" geto groans as he catch a glimpse of your bare pussy under the cover of the blanket once gojo lifts your nightgown. he slowly gets closer to your body just like his twin, his heart beating loudly through his chest as his fingers pull the string of your nightgown down revealing your swollen, plumpy tits. his mouth was watering looking at your hard nipples, itching to suckle on them like a new born baby.

gojo was busy lapping into your cute little ears, he always wanted to taste them, his spit was covering every inch of it, but he couldn't get enough as he keeps suckling. while his cock rested between your ass cheeks, twitching, and making a mess. he slips his hands down your belly till he reachs your puffy clit while you sleep soundly, while his brother gropes your tits, filling his huge hands with them. he starts purring like a cat, kneading your tits.

gojo free his cock out of his boxer, and place it between your soft ass cheeks, his eyes cross at the feeling of having the soft skin of your little ass that he's been dreaming of. it was enveloping his fat cock, as he slippery starts rutting his hips.

geto was to lost in your tits as he suckle on your nipples, he unconsciously starts humping against your thick thighs, they were getting rougher and rougher not caring if they wake you up or get caught. satoru whines low in his throat, biting the inside of his cheek as the top of his cock begins rubbing against your bare lips with the drag of his hips.

that causes geto to pump his hips faster. he rocked against your slippery thighs enveloping his throbbing dick. your pussy and thighs are slick with his and satoru’s precome. gojo feels himself leaking all over you as he continues to roll his hips. breathy whines slip from his lips and he does his best to muffle them by taking your earlobe inside his mouth.

"what-" your voice mutters as you stare eyes wide open at the twins. but your words were soon cut off as both of them slip their fat cocks into your pussy, rotting in with one thrust. their cocks ripping through you as they start groaning at how tight you are. clenching around their cock coating it with the gushing juice that's coming out of you and drenching the sheets.

it was your pee- you pee all over the bed, and their cocks from how over whelmed with pleasure you were. gojo was breathless. his thighs are already trembling, sweat beading on his forehead, and his toes curling at the pleasure that shoots up his spine from the feeling of your dirty pee coating his cock and spilling from his balls down to the sheets.

geto whines— he whines; a sound he didn’t know he was even capable of, before he spills inside of you, still rocking his hips against you, while he can feel gojos cock that was still inside of you rubbing against his own cock.

gojo soon enough follow his twin, he burries his face into the crook of your neck before the tip of his cock hit your womb one last time and it was his time to fill you to the peak.

they stay inside of you, their leaking cocks being hard again while you lay down to fucked out to even recover from whateved happened, gojo runs his finger down your belly all he can think about is weither the baby is going to look like or him or geto.

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𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

leaving him? it was so cute that a thought like this even came across your mind. toji grins as he unlock the door of the apartment you were supposedly staying in "away" from him.

he makes his way inside your apartment his cock instantly harding as the scent of you envelop his nose. he's going to make sure you pay for leaving him this way, toji ears perk up as he hears the shower water running indicating that you're in the bathroom.

he smirks as he makes his way toward the bedroom, his eyes darken as they land on your panties and cloth that was scattered around your room. he gets a hold of your cute little panties between his hand and he immediately place it close to his nose, inhaling the fresh scent of your pussy.

he's going to make you pay for keeping his sweet little pussy away from him for this long. his eyes catch something, there was a toy placed on your desk night- a red vibrator. oh you were in deep trouble, letting this pathetic little toy touch your pussy, make you orgasm knowing full well you're not allowed to cum around anything but his fat cock.

toji holds the toy close to his mouth, before his red pierced tongue peak out and lick the left saltiness of your wetness. his eyes roll back, you almost had him fucking cum in his pants from the taste of this wet pussy that you have kept away from him for a week. he's going to make you pay.

this is how you ended up here. your upper body is fully pressed against the foggy glass of the shower, warm water dripping down your body as tojis fat cock fills you in. your tits were completely smashed against the glass, while your face was pressed against his mouth as he groans against you.

"yea? you can't last without my cock?" he mutters against you slamming his cock into your tight pussy, you're starting to see white spots. you missed his cock so much, toji hands sneak in to grab your nipples that had missed suckling on, he squeeze them hard between his rough fingers.

tojis eyes widen as he stares at the white warm liquid that squirts out of your nipples, landing on the glass wall of the shower. your body shake- you knew you were pregnant with his child. you wanted to tell him but things didn't give you the time to.

"shit- shit- shit!" toji boy shake against you, pleasure shooting down his cock at the thought of his baby being inside of your belly. it's because of him your breast are swollen with milk. it's all for him, it all belong to him.

you gasp as toji press your body down the shower floor, slaming his cock inside of you, his arm around your head as he push his full body weight into you, it's like something switched in him, it's like you unlocked something in him.

he lean his head back before taking a fat nipple inside his warm mouth, the taste of your milk hitting his tongue has him almost blacking out. it's embarrassing for him how fast he cums, you can feel his warm seeds filling you in.

you gently run your fingers through his wet hair, as you coo at him. his lips never leaving your nipples, flicking his tongue around it. you can feel his cold piercing hitting your sensitive bud.

seems like you were gonna stay for awhile in the shower.

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𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

"mmm fuck, you little filthy slut" sukuna growls out as he slump down his throne not being able to blance himself from how hard you're riding him.

you bounce on one of his cocks while, the other once was brushing against your clit as you grind your cum filled cunt, sukuna have already finished two times inside of you- but of curse he wasn't finished he needs to stuff you full till his cums start dripping from your nose.

two of his large, rough hands are on your hips, gripping so hard creating a wound, gushing blood from it but it only seems to turn him on more. while his other two hands are on yours boobs, sucking and biting on your nipples with his hand-mouth.

as you were about to reach your peak sukuna grab you from your wait and lift you, as you were about to complain and white for him to let you cum- sukuna slams his huge grith inside the hole of your tight-ass tearing through, you scream out, while sukuna growls and groan clearly enjoying how tight your hole is clenching around him.

"cant to much- to much" you choke out on your sobs, cant handle the overwhelming size of him inside your ass. but what you nearly pass out was when sukuna grabbed his other cock and shoved it inside of your folds, stuffing both of your holes with his dripping, cocks- angry and ready to fill you as he promised.

"shhh little one, let me stuff you full of my cum, let me make you my cum dump" he purrs out as he sucks your tongue inside of his mouth- and this is exactly what he did, he stuffed you ten times with his cums, five times in your cunt and other five inside your little ass.

but he doesn't stop there, your body lay against him, twitching. as your pussy drips with over loads of his cum, sukuna catch the cum that was spilling with his palm. scooping it with his hand, before he slowly start shoving his fist that was filled with him seeds back into your pussy.

you whine as you feel his fist tearing through you, he gently shush you with his other hand while the other two hold you down by your hips, for him to have easy access.

his fist make it's way inside of your tight pussy, enveloping his whold hand. he growls as he feels how tight you were clenching around him, how warm and hot your inside felt against his fist. he can the pool of cum that he filled you with, coating the insids of your pussy.

"i gotta-" you didn't fully finish your sentence because sukuna already know what you're going to say. he place his mouth hand on your clit, drinking in the warm spurt that starts gushing out of your pussy.

you scream as you start squirting the hot liquid, his cum starts spilling from your ass past his fist from the force of your orgasm.

sukuna growls as he stares at the mess you're making, his third arm making it's way toward your ass hole and scoop his cum that just spilled just to shoved it inside your little ass, fisting it just like your pussy.

"good fucking girl" sukuna mutters against your forehead, as your figure tremle against him.

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𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

every since choso got the feeling to cum inside of you- to breed you. he couldn't stop after. it could be early in the morning and choso wouldn't be able to wait to fill you up with his cum.

it could be in the middle of work, he would beg you to sneak inside the bathroom for him to fill you cunt again. but lately something new been added to chosos breeding kink.

"baby- please fuck fuck fuck please just step on me baby" choso whine out kneeling in front of you, he just finished helping you put your heels on, and obviously your needy boyfriend got hard.

it's been a week since you discovered chosos filthy fetch, at first you didn't notice how he would take extra care of your feets, or how he would give extra attention to your feets, the way he would spoil you, buy tones of heels, without any doubt, the way he almost came into his pants once he saw your curved feets, and cute little toes in a dark red heels- his favorite color.

the why he would kiss each one of your toes as he massage your feets after along exhausting day, the way he stare at your toes that curled instinctively, unknowingly causing arousal to pool in his gut, the way he would always beat his hard cock as he sniffs one of your high thigh fluffly christmas socks, remembering the way your cute little feets and plumy thighs looked in them.

"do it, step on me." choso begs, leaning forward slightly to nuzzle against your belly. he looks up at you with his chin against your lower belly, pretty eyes pleading.

"what did i say about being a good boy baby? have you been a good boy today?" you look down at his figure, can't help the wetness that drenched your panties from having him like that.

slowly trailing your heels down his hard on, and stepping harshly on it- knowing he likes it rough, choso eyes cross, as he started humping your feet. your fingers run through his dark locks and pulling his head back, making him look up at you.

"you want to cum inside of me baby? you want to feel me with your seeds?" you coo at him, teasing him as you press the tip of your heels against the sensitive tip of his cock that was leaking through his pants, soaking the fabric.

he nods eagerly, you smirk at how desperate he is, not knowing what's coming for him.

here he was his hands tied up behind his back, as your body was on top of him. he stare at you confused. "but i wanna touch you-" you shush him by hovering your pussy against his cock, his mouth immediately shut and his eyes hazily focus on the way your wetness drip to his cock.

you know how much choso was touchy when he was inside of you. you knew it would drive him crazy if he doesn't to get to do that because of his tied up arms. but what you didn't know was how strong choso really is.

because as soon as you slam your pussy down his fat cock, choso immediately tear up the rob that tied his arms together. you gasp once he flips you over. he was huffing like a dog in heat. slamming his hips down your pussy with no mercy.

"em gonna cum! em gonna cum!" choso whimpers before you feel him coating your walls with his seeds.

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tag list : @nxxun-blog @kikosamus @rxndou @seinagiswife @reagan707 @sadmonke @chilichopsticks @baby--vera ( i couldn't tag the other becuz u have ur tags off) hope u enjoy :3

[winxanity-ii]

SACRILEGIOUS DEVOTION [1/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: So, Father Charlie is out here losing all his morals and sanity on Grotesquerie and my mind couldn't help but match it, so what's a better idea other than channeling all the religious trauma/journey into a spicy one-shot? i for one feel like it's a mini-therapy, but enough rambling, enjoy 😩🫶🏾 i'm in love with a holy man, mother 😔…. second part: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Father Charlie Mayhew was a sick man.

Not in the manner of flesh, but of spirit. He could feel the sickness festering in the quiet corners of his heart, a sinful yearning that had taken root there, twisting itself around his thoughts like creeping ivy.

It was a sickness that, he believed, made him a grotesque parody of the holy man he was meant to be. For how could he call himself righteous, devoted, when every whisper of prayer felt stained by the way his eyes followed you, Sister ____?

You were a vision of purity, an embodiment of the kind of gentle devotion that Father Charlie envied and craved all at once.

He watched you from a distance, always careful not to draw your gaze, afraid of what you might see if you looked too deeply. How dutiful you were, sweeping the church aisle with a focus that made him forget the dust and see only the graceful motion of your hands.

The sun, filtered through stained glass, seemed to seek you out, casting colors on your habit as if to mark you as someone far beyond his grasp, almost holy in your mundane tasks.

It was in the mornings, when he heard the soft chime of your laughter in the courtyard as you fed the pigeons, that he felt the deepest sting of his wretchedness.

The world seemed simpler in those moments, your laughter echoing off the stone walls, the warmth of early sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. He wondered if you knew how your kindness drew even the animals to you, their heads dipping into your palms as if receiving communion.

There was a stillness to you, a gentleness in every gesture.

The worst of it was during your services. Father Charlie had seen you on your knees before, hands folded in earnest prayer, your lips moving softly as you whispered your devotion to God.

He would stand at the back of the chapel, watching with a mixture of awe and something far darker. He told himself it was admiration, but the truth festered beneath that facade.

It was longing, a hunger that ached at the edges of his soul.

A storm raged outside the convent one evening, winds battering the church walls with a fury that mirrored the tempest building in his chest. The clouds were bloated, dark as his thoughts, and thunder rolled across the sky with a violence that shook even the faith he held so dear.

You had come to his chambers in the dead of night, your knock barely audible over the howling wind. He had been preparing for bed, freshly out of the shower, wearing only his boxers when he heard you at the door.

The creak of the old wood seemed to echo forever as he opened it, and there you stood, eyes wide, looking so impossibly fragile in the dim candlelight of the corridor. Your modest night slip clung to your form, the thin fabric shifting in the draft that sneaked in from the hallway.

Charlie's breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you, innocence incarnate, seeking refuge with him.

He hesitated for only a moment before allowing you in, quickly wrapping himself in a silk robe that hung loosely on his shoulders, barely tied. He knew he should not let you enter, but there was something in the way you looked at him—so trusting, so devoted—that made him abandon every rational thought.

You had come asking to pray with him, your soft voice trembling as you spoke. The storm outside seemed like a reflection of the turmoil within him as he let you step past the threshold, closing the door behind you.

Now, you were here, kneeling before him, your eyes upturned and wide, waiting for his command, for his instruction like the obedient servant of God that you were.

Your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, a gentle, "Father...?"

Charlie could only lament to himself how sinfully pure you looked. He hummed softly, his eyes dark as they trailed over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the delicate line of your neck.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across your skin, highlighting the innocence that made his hunger all the more unbearable.

"Yes, forgive me, Sister. Let us now pray," he finally said, his voice low and rough, the words nearly swallowed by the sound of the wind outside. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead, and you leaned into the touch without hesitation, your eyes closing as if his hand was a blessing.

He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling deeper into the forbidden desires he had tried so desperately to keep buried.

He began to pray, his voice low, raspy, each word a struggle against the chaos inside him. "Heavenly Father, we come before you tonight..." But the words felt hollow, their meaning slipping away as he watched you, kneeling so obediently at his feet.

His eyes darkened, wandering further down, tracing the lines of your form. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it all seemed to pull him further from the sanctity of the moment.

He should have been thinking of God, of salvation, of the purity of the prayer—but instead, he was thinking of you, of the way the thin fabric clung to your skin, the soft curve of your breasts visible through the modest slip.

He licked his lips, his gaze fixed on the delicate line of your collarbone, the way it rose and fell with each breath you took.

The more he spoke, the less the words mattered. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his body, his thoughts growing more erratic, each word of the prayer slipping further from its sacred meaning, twisting into something profane, something filthy. "Protect us from all evil..." he whispered as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, the words a bitter irony as he felt himself drawn further into the darkness of his desires.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat. His touch was gentle, but there was a weight behind it, a hunger that he could no longer deny.

He could almost see the curve of your bare skin beneath the thin fabric, the outline of your body that he should not be imagining. He tried to focus on the prayer, but every word felt like a lie. He let out a shaky breath, the prayer faltering on his lips. "Guide us... guide us in your light," he managed, his voice thick with the weight of his longing.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling as if to warn him, but Father Charlie could no longer hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears as he looked down at you, so trusting, so willing.

As the final words of the prayer fell from his lips—"Amen"—you echoed him, your voice soft and unwavering. You blinked open your eyes, looking up at him with such innocence and Charlie felt himself slip past the point of no return.

He knew that no amount of prayer could ever cleanse him of what he wanted, that he could no longer pretend, no longer fight against the pull that drew him to you—the sweet, precious nun who had unknowingly captured his very soul.

Father Charlie stood, his robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, exposing the toned muscle beneath. The wind howled outside, and thunder bellowed again, followed by a flash of lightning that lit the room in a brief, startling blaze of white.

You were still kneeling before him, your wide eyes following his every movement, the flickering light casting you in both shadow and radiance.

Charlie bent at the waist, his fingers reaching out to cup your jaw, thumb caressing your bottom lip as his half-lidded eyes trailed over your face. "Sister ____," he murmured, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection, his name for you almost reverent, as though you were something sacred, something he could worship in his own unholy way.

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath his touch, a soft stutter escaping your lips. "F-Father...?"

He grasped one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around yours, and as he stood, he gently urged you to rise with him. His gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and full of something raw. He began to speak, his voice barely more than a murmur, the words heavy with confession. "As a man of God, there are expectations placed upon me," he started, his tone wavering between remorse and something darker, something that made his grip on your hand tighten. "I am meant to guide, to protect, to remain steadfast in my faith."

His other hand moved, slowly pulling your trembling hand against his bare stomach, pressing your palm against the hard planes of his abdomen.

You gasped, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your hand trembling beneath his. The heat of his skin burned into your palm, the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Charlie continued, his voice lowering, growing more intense as he spoke. "But these days... these days, Sister, I find myself at war. At war with desires that threaten to consume me..." His words trailed off, and he let out a low hum as he rubbed your hand across his stomach, the movement slow, deliberate.

Your hand hesitated for a moment, the warmth of his skin making you tremble as you instinctively pulled back. But his grip was firm, guiding you back, and slowly, tentatively, your fingers splayed across his stomach, your touch feather-light.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering down before you took a timid step closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. Your gaze shifted to the side, your cheeks warming with embarrassment at the proximity, at the way you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm.

Father Charlie's eyes never left you, and he could see every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty that danced across your face. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke, his voice a low murmur, "There's no need to be afraid, Sister. You are safe here... with me."

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as you dared to look up at him, your eyes meeting his through the veil of uncertainty.

There was something in his gaze, something dark and magnetic that pulled at you, made your pulse race. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw; the touch almost comforting, but there was an intensity behind it that made you shiver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice to speak, your fingers trembling slightly against his skin. He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips, and he hummed again, satisfied with your silent answer.

His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, pulling you just a little bit closer, his robe parting further, exposing more of his chest.

Your breath hitched as you felt the distance between you closing, the way his body seemed to envelop yours. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the storm of emotions and the strange, electric pull you felt toward him.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he watched you. You felt your pulse quicken, your knees weakening under the intensity of his gaze.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and something darker, something that made your heart pound even harder. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body react, leaning in just slightly, as if craving more of his warmth, his touch.

His fingers trailed lower, coaxing your hand along his body, and you felt the tension, the desire in every muscle. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, "Let me show you, Sister ____... let me show you what devotion truly means."

He kissed you then, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. His mouth moved hungrily, tasting, devouring, and you felt his tongue lick into your mouth, coaxing a soft, surprised whimper from your throat. His groan vibrated against your lips, the sound raw and desperate.

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the sheer need in his kiss.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss. He didn't give you a moment to recover; his lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken beneath you. The heat of his mouth trailed down, his tongue flicking out to soothe each small bite, and you felt your body trembling, a warmth pooling low in your belly.

Charlie's hands were relentless, holding you steady as your body threatened to give out, your knees buckling as his mouth worked against your skin. He pulled back only long enough to whisper your name, his voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you up, his arms strong and sure as he carried you towards his bed. Your breath hitched, your fingers clinging to his robe as he moved, each step filled with purpose.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His eyes roamed over you, dark and filled with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Father Charlie moved quickly, his hands deft as he pushed your slip off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your skin and pooling around your waist. His lips followed the path of the falling slip, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

You shivered beneath his touch, the cool air of the room prickling at your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling in response.

His eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he let out a low groan, his hands running along your bare arms, feeling the way you trembled beneath him. "You're like a goddess," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and lust. "Perfect. Untouched. A temptation I can't resist." His lips found your collarbone, kissing, nipping, his words vibrating against your skin.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, trailing down the center of your chest, his hands spreading across your back, urging you to arch into him. His kisses were relentless, each one making your breath catch, making your body react in ways that felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

You couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, unsure of what to do, where to touch.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze filled with hunger. He pushed you back against the bed, guiding you to lie down, his hands never leaving your body, his touch possessive, as if he couldn't bear to be without contact. He looked down at you, splayed out before him, your slip barely covering you, and he licked his lips, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of adoration and hunger. "So innocent, so pure... and all mine." He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands working the slip further down your body, baring you completely to him.

The cool air made you shiver, your body exposed, vulnerable, and you couldn't help the way your legs shifted, instinctively trying to close.

Charlie's hands moved to your knees, gently but firmly pushing them apart, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction. His lips moved from your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he groaned against you.

He pulled the slip away entirely, tossing it aside, his hands roaming over your bare skin, mapping every inch as though he were committing you to memory. "You are... perfection," he muttered, his voice strained, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

His lips moved lower, trailing down your body, leaving a heated path across your chest, your stomach, and further down. His hands were strong, keeping your legs pinned open to the bed, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a possessive hold. He kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver, anticipation coiling in your belly.

You instinctively tried to scoot back, to move away as you felt his breath getting closer to your core, but Charlie's grip tightened, his hands holding you firmly in place. He looked up at you, his eyes dark, almost predatory, as he whispered, "Stay still, Sister... let me worship you."

He breathed you in, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if savoring the scent of you, and then he leaned in, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

A squeal, half surprise and half pleasure, escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the bed.

Father Charlie's tongue moved with a purpose, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands kept your legs spread, his grip firm and unyielding as he worked his mouth against you, his groans vibrating against your core.

He was relentless, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you.

You could feel his smooth skin against your inner thighs, the sensation only adding to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside you. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against you, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

The sight of you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath—only seemed to spur him on, his groans growing louder as he tasted you.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hips bucking against his mouth, a whimper slipping from your lips. Charlie's hands moved to hold your hips down, pinning you to the bed as he continued, his tongue delving into you, his nose brushing against your clit as he worked, utterly consumed by the taste of you.

He was lost in it, in you, his tongue moving faster, his mouth desperate as he devoured you.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, your body trembling beneath him. The heat built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until you felt like you might break apart. His name fell from your lips, a breathless plea, and he groaned in response, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body ready to fall apart under his touch.

Your first orgasm washed over you without warning, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you feeling weightless, your entire body trembling as you came undone beneath him. You melted into the bed like butter, your limbs going limp as the intensity of it left you breathless.

Charlie's mouth moved against you with a fervent hunger, drinking in every bit of your release as if it were the most sacred offering.

A small whimper escaped your lips as the sensation grew overwhelming, your body growing sensitive to his touch. He didn't stop, his tongue moving lazily, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, his mouth still savoring you.

Your grip on his head shifted, your fingers now pushing at him, trying to get him to stop, but his hands only gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you in place. "W-Wait..." The heat in your stomach was already starting to build again, the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue igniting another fire deep within you.

Charlie groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his face buried even further between your legs, his tongue relentless.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, your body trembling once more as the pleasure built. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your mind spinning as you tried to form words, but all that left your throat were broken, incoherent sounds—static that filled the room as you babbled.

You tried to scoot back, to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but Charlie's strong arms wrapped around your hips, yanking you back down, his grip unyielding. His own hips pressed into the bedding below, his desperation evident as he devoured you.

You teetered on the edge once more, the pleasure too much, too intense, until it finally broke over you again, your body arching, your mind going completely blank as you came undone a second time.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on you, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming ecstasy that left you gasping for air.

As you came down from your high, your body trembling, Father Charlie finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. He stared up at you with dark, lidded eyes, his expression filled with hunger, with desire that seemed insatiable.

There was no hesitation, no regret—only a raw need that made it clear he no longer cared about going against his vows, no longer cared about the priesthood or what was right.

All that mattered to him was you.

A/N: i'm sorry, i just watched Grotesquerie last night and i've become obssessed.... ugh, the tension between father charlie and sister megan is just *chefs kiss* it's clear that megan is obviously meant to be y/n and the screenplay was written in the intent of it being catered to the female gaze because wheeeeww 😩...

[nightmare-niko]

Blame It On The Rain [Nicholas Alexander Chavez x reader]

Word count: 855

Warnings: oral (m! receiving), rough sex, shower sex, once again completely self-indulgent

A/N: the obsession is going strong hehehe

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

Your boyfriend lay on your bed, scrolling away on his phone. Such a simple task, but he looks so damn good. You lean against the door frame, shamelessly watching your unsuspecting lover.

"Hey, Nick?" You call out innocently.

"Yes, baby?" He looks up from his phone.

"I'm gonna shower."

He looks at you, confused, “oookay..?”

"Join me.”

The corners of his mouth curled up into a mischievous smile, "you askin or tellin?"

You roll your eyes, “Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes!” you turn on your heels and head towards your bathroom.

”Or what?" He shouts, still in your room.

"Or you're not getting head for a month!" You close the bathroom door behind you.

You hastily drop your pants and turn on the warm shower water. You hear Nicholas fumbling around in your bedroom. and you're not surprised when he practically through the door.

"That was like twenty seconds dude,” You feign disappointment.

Nicholas just shrugs, taking off his shirt in one movement.

"The waters not even warm yet!"

"Don't care!" He pulls you in for a rough kiss, tongues fighting for dominance— not like you'd ever win.

You waste no time untying his sweatpants and pulling them down haphazardly. You go to pull down his underwear but are met with bare skin. You pause and pull away, you giggle as he chases your lips for more, “No underwear? what a slut!" You tease.

"Says the one who lured me in here just to fuck me,” he accuses.

You gasp and wrap your nimble fingers around his half-hard cock. "I didn't call you in here just fuck you!" You defend, running your thumb over his slit— he hisses.

”Why am I here then?” His voice is strained.

You hum, pretending to think deeply about his question. letting go of him you take a step back. He whines at the loss of contact, eyes trained on you as you remove your shirt and underwear.

Now, just as bare as him you step into the water stream. you sigh in delight as the waterfalls around you.

Nicholas steps in behind you, “Baby this water is boiling!”

You chuckle and turn around to change the water temperature for him. With for back facing him he wastes no time landing a loud “thwack” on your bare ass.

“Ow!! Nick what the hell!”

“I'm sorry I couldn't help myself!!”

“I'll remember that,” you warn as you pull him closer to you by his waist. “You're so hot,” you playfully bite his chest.

“So are you~” he runs his fingers into your hair and tugs your face up towards him, capturing you in another breathtaking kiss.

His now fully hard cock pressed in between your torsos. Backing up, he pulls you with him until his back meets the shower wall. You recapture his lips in a searing kiss, your greedy hands roaming and feeling his toned body.

You part briefly for air, the both of you breathing heavily. Nicholas’ eyes are deep with desire as he trails kisses along your jaw down to your neck. A soft moan escapes your lips.

As much as you wanted to lose yourself in the feeling of your boyfriend— you had brought him here for a reason. “Let me take care of you,” you offer— pulling back from his grasp.

He looks at you for a moment— pupils blown out in his eager eyes.

He moans pathetically when you finally sink to your knees. “Use me,” you mutter.

“W-what?”

“I want you,” you wrap your hands around the base of his shaft. “To use me,” you kiss up the sides until you reach the tip.

‘A-Are you sure?? I don't want to hurt you!”

“Nicholas,” you state flatly. “I want you to fuck my face. Now.”

He growls, gripping your hair tightly. This is what you've been waiting for!

“Tongue. out,” he demands, you stick out your tongue obediently.

He slaps his red leaking tip on it with his free hand before he presses you all the way down his shaft. He throws his head back and it thumps against the wall behind him as a moan rips through him.

“fuck—” he curses, as he begins his steady rhythm fucking into your mouth.

You run your manicured nails along his toned thighs, leaving red scratches in their wake.

You can feel his cock twitch deep in your throat.

You look up at him through your eyelashes— you moan at his fucked out state. The vibration sends him over the edge as he pulls out of your mouth. The string of saliva connecting your tongue and his tip is downright pornographic. Hot ropes of white cum fall on your face and tongue as your boyfriend shouts obscenities from above you.

You rise from your position on the bathtub floor. You reach up and pull Nicholas down for one final kiss— He whines as he tastes himself on your lips.

You pull away, dopey grin on both of your faces. “See now— that. Is why I called you here.”

Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)

@Nallasstuff @chmpgneprblem @qoopeeya @lilybellalana @sleepysongbirdsings

[pandoraspurgatory]

Desperate

Katsuki x Fem!Reader Smut

Characters are 18, 3rd year of UA. Minors DNI

cw: pussy eating, masturbation, squirting, humping, cum eating, premature ejaculation, hands free orgasm, virgin!Katsuki

Katsuki is a horny mess

As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, the idea of raw fucking you into the mattress until you were a cum soaked mess, cunt twitching for his cock, had him weak in the knees.

On multiple occasions he ended up stroking himself in the locker room showers, mind filled only with the image of you gagging and slobbering on his cock.

You two had been dating for a while now, despite his initial confinements of taking it slow and being a gentleman - he couldn’t help but find his jeans painfully tightening when you ran your fingers through his hair and a damp spot in his boxers when he watched you train.

Katsuki was pussywhipped and wanted nothing more to bury himself deep inside of you, whispering sweet notions before bruising your cervix for hours on end.

The one thing stopping him was the fact he didn’t want to push you. You were truely one of a kind, he couldn’t fuck this up.

So when you told him you wanted to take things further, nibbling at his neck while palming his the bulge in his pants - all the constraints came falling down around him.

Mere moments later he was on top of you, laboured breaths escaping his lips as he fondled your tits in his large calloused hands.

“lemme make you feel good pretty girl”

Your moans filled your dorm room as he lapped his tongue against your clit, humping the mattress as he held your legs open firmly despite your squirming

Muttering curses under his breath as he inserted two fingers and curling them up upwards. His lips not daring to leave your throbbing clit as he desperately sucked it, his moans sending vibrations all the way to the coil tightening in your stomach.

He wanted to stay in this position forever, there was nothing that made his balls tighten more than your sweet squeals and the taste of your juices on his tongue.

Katsuki is convinced he’s never been this hard in his life up until this moment, still trying to relieve himself as he grinded into the bed below him.

He moved his fingers more rapidly as your legs began to shake and your walls tightened and convulsed around his digits, he removed his free hand from your thigh and rubbed your clit with his thumb.

“Kats… gonna cum… please”

“That’s it pretty girl, cum on my face”

With a loud groan and fistfuls of his hair gripped in your hands, your impending orgasm hit you like a truck. Your hips bucked up into his face, earning a loud groan from your boyfriend.

Katsuki had only ever seen girls squirt in the porn videos he had stumbled upon online. Though it was a new definition of bliss seeing you reach your climax and squirt all over his face and the unsuspecting sheets below him.

He gave you a toothy grin, your cum dripping down his face and sticking his fringe to his forehead.

Out of everything he’d imagined and fantasised about you, nothing was more erotic and hot than his face being showered with your juices, your legs shaking erratically around his head.

With a deep moan and one more thrust against the mattress, Katsuki unsuspectingly came hard, feeling his dick twitch in his boxers as the sweaty fabric became soaked with his seed.

He would be mortified about his hands free premature ejalculation later, for now he would focus on cleaning you up with his tongue

[bi-writes]

idk just thinking about seeing your lieutenant for the first time, this big giant dog of a man, and thinking to yourself, "hmmm yeah, i'm gonna make that thing mine." (18+)

like. i'm thinking about seeing him walk into the room for the first time. fresh off an op, still in all his gear. he's angry cause he's been awake off and on for 40 hours at this point, and he sinks down into a chair in the mess hall, and your eyes bug cause the chair fucking bends with his weight.

and you're just like "omg omg omg holy shit" cause this fucking brute is just huge and beefy, and you had no idea this was your type until you watched his hand curl around a cup and make it look miniature. and you're wondering like "fuck i bet those holsters are custom made" cause you don't think you've ever seen them stretch that far around someone's thigh.

ughghghghgh, and he's dumb as shit, too, or maybe he's just fucking blind. you give him every hint in the book, every indication of how you feel other than pasting a giant neon sign on your forehead that says "fuck me."

you wear the tightest cargo pants you can get. you let the buttons on your shirts go low whenever he's near. you make excuses to see him late, delivering him paperwork in the middle of the night, meeting him out for a smoke (and he's never seen you smoke anything), shuffling your way in front of him in line so you can bump into him and graze your ass against his front. he even catches you this way--even curls his hand around your waist and steadies you before letting you go impatiently.

fuck, bending over in front of him, the obnoxious giggling, the excuses to dangle your tits in his face. you want this man underneath you, on top of you, tangled around you and suffocating you with those enormous arms, and he barely side-glances at you whenever you're in his vicinity, and it's infuriating.

what do you have to do to reel this thing in? how many bones do you have to give him?

how many times do i have to flash my bra at you for you to fuck me over your desk?!

you can't eat another cherry in front of him. you can't drop more sauce onto your cleavage. you cannot come out of the showers in just a towel in front of him anymore because you're going to lose your fucking mind--

you even made out with his beloved little sergeant, his favorite little know-it-all that can't stop blowing shit up. that blue-eyed, insufferable, yapper of a scot that kisses all wet, with teeth, who pants like a puppy when he asks if he can 'ave a taste of y'r bonnie cunt, please, please, please--

and you say yes, because maybe he'll finally fucking shut up if you drown him between your thighs and never let him come up for air.

face down, ass up, cargos around your ankles, hips pushing past against that puppy's stubble as he devours you on his knees. his big hands spread your ass for him, and his thumbs flick over your folds as he opens you up, a cackle leaving him before he opens his mouth wide and kisses your pussy all sloppy and uncoordinated.

when the door swings open and hits the wall with a bang, the puppy tries to leave. he tries to move, but you reach back and grip his mohawk, scowling as you shove his face back where it belongs as your lieutenant stands at the door and heaves with anger.

"uh uh," you snap, and your sergeant on his knees whines, his blue eyes a little foggy and wet as he blinks up at you. but he complies, his tongue slurping, and you flutter your lashes at your lieutenant as you keep johnny muzzled in your cunt. "sorry, lieutenant. is this your office? must've read the sign wrong."

you reel from the contact. a big hand grips you by the hair, slamming you down against his desk, and you choke as you try and gasp for air. like a good boy, johnny settles where he is, shoving his tongue down your hole and moaning low when he realizes you're dripping down his chin now that his lieutenant has you.

"y'think this is funny, eh?" ghost mutters in your ear. "y'think i don't know wot y'r doin'? think i 'aven't caught on, think i 'aven't noticed wot a fuckin' insatiable bloody pain in my arse you've been ever since y'got 'ere?!"

you whimper, relaxing against the desk, and ghost tugs at your hair again, shaking his head.

"oi! y'don't get to be stupid just because y'r gettin' y'r cunny played with," ghost snaps. "y'r a right headache."

you laugh, getting up to your elbows, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as ghost scruffs johnny by the base of his mohawk and cups your pussy with one big hand. you gasp, leaning your head back, because finally, yes, it's all i want, please, please, please--

"'f you wanted to be my pet so bad," ghost murmurs, fitting himself behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he spits into your ear, "all ya had to do was fuckin' ask, swee'eart."

when your eyes open, ghost hums, clicking his tongue under the mask.

"use y'r words," he growls. "be a good girl, and say wot it is y'want."

"want you," you whine, and he sighs deeply, closing his eyes, and you drown out the sounds of johnny sputtering at your feet as ghost bends you at the hip a little more, arching your back.

"mmm...tha'sit. was tha' so hard?"

[yanderenightmare]

TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

fem reader

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[kurooh]

QUICKIES ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. he thinks the rush and risk of a quickie with you is the best feeling ever.

⟡ feat. timeskip! miya atsumu, bokuto kōtarō, iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurō.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, creampies, oral sex [m&f], cum swallowing, wall sex, public sex & exhibitionism, degradation, fingering, squirting, sex against a window, not proofread !!

⟡ xoxo, juno: my heart goes out to the neglected haikyuu fans on my blog. this is for you <3

— MIYA ATSUMU.

“tsumu,” you pant, head falling back into the lockers behind you with a small thud that’s unheard over the sound of skin against skin.

you’re balancing on one jelly-like leg, back pressed into the lockers, the other leg hanging on his arm, toes curling. “oh, right there, tsumu, please,” a breathy whimper leaves your parted lips, and he angles his hips slightly, snapping his cock into you harder. each thrust punches the air out of your lungs, and atsumu knows he won’t be able to last much longer if you keep clenching like this, your pretty face scrunched with pleasure from him.

“fuck, babe— ughhh, yer so pretty like this..” he buries his face in your neck, the pace of his hips becoming unsteady and erratic as he gets closer and closer to coming undone inside you. in the not so far distance, you hear talking and laughing, but ignore it.

your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deep, and he groans out your name, pressing you harder into the lockers. “mmmh, ‘m gonna cum, where d’ya—”

“inside, want it in me,” you cut him off with a whiny plea, “want it dripping out while i watch the game.”

your hand races to press into the small of his back, in an attempt to make sure he doesn’t pull away or out. with a grumble of your name that makes his chest shake, he cums inside of you, just as a door opens nearby.

“tsumu,” you whisper in a panic when he doesn’t make any move to pull out after a few seconds, effectively plugging you full of his cum, “we have to get dressed for your game, y-your friends—”

“nah,” atsumu huffs, staring at your flexing pussy; his cum drips from you, slipping down your thighs mesmerizingly. he practically has hearts in his eyes looking up and down your body.

“i think we’re a little early, kiyoomi,” hinata’s bright voice is suddenly a few rows of lockers away.

“prep before a game is most important,” sakusa replies sternly, “practice and a shower before always guarantees a win, shōyo.”

atsumu’s already in his shorts, helping you pull on an msby jersey, stamped with his number on the back. his cum drips from your cunt as you quickly move past his teammates with a wave, mumbling a dumb excuse as you race out the door.

“atsumu,” sakusa pulls on his mask almost immediately, his guard up. “surely you noticed your girlfriend wearing the jersey backwards.”

— BOKUTO KŌTARŌ.

“you’re gonna win, kou, i promise,” you interrupt your boyfriend’s enthusiastic and nervous rambling, lips trailing over his inner thighs.

“i-i know, but this game is important!” he emphasizes, swallowing thickly as your fingers hook into the waistband of his shorts and boxers. the clothing slides down his thighs, settling at his knees, and you inch closer to his cock — rock hard, hot to the touch, tip sticky with precum.

bokuto chokes out a hushed groan, tangling his fingers in your hair and cupping the back of your head the second you take him into your mouth. he helps you take his entire length into your mouth, spurring you on with his whines and mumbled curses.

“b-baby, fuck, you’re so perfect, ughhh—”

you choke when you finally make it all the way down to his base, your nose practically touching the coarse hair covering his pelvis. eager hands begin to guide you up and down, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you move. bokuto gasps out a string of hazy apologies when he heard you gag particularly hard, but he doesn’t stop— instead, he cups the back of your head firmly and fucks up into your mouth, the movement of his hips sloppy.

“y-you wan’ me to win, right?” his head drops back, the creaky sounds of the locker room bench growing louder beneath him. with your one of your hands positioned on the wood for support, you feel the bench shaking hard.

you nod, your eyes moving from his abs up to his scrunched face; he’s biting down on his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth, his golden eyes half lidded and teary.

it’s almost filthy, the way bokuto rises off the bench, pushing you away from him before cupping the back of your head— he draws his hips back, leaving his tip in your mouth, then slams all the way inside.

tears spring to your eyes at the force, and you only move closer to him to allow him to use your mouth, or his ‘good luck charm’ before games.

“hahhh, that’s right, take it just like that,” bokuto grunts, “god, you’re gonna make me cum.”

heat rushes through your body and pools in your pelvis, wetting your panties at his words; his well muscled chest, gleaming with sweat, rises and falls rapidly as he pants. as his orgasm approaches, his thighs and abs tense as he buries himself deep in your throat, pulling you close to his pelvis.

his cock thickens on your tongue, throbbing as he finally fills up your throat with his cum; still sensitive, he whimpers as you swallow around him. slowly, bokuto pulls out of your mouth, his cock still hard.

he quickly pulls up his shorts, tugs you to your feet, and gives you a tight hug. “i’m gonna win today, and it’s all cause of you!” he mumbles excitedly into your neck.

“sounds good, kou,” you laugh, rubbing his back. “after the game, meet me back in the locker room, ‘kay?”

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

“mmmh, princess— loosen up a little for me, can barely move,” hajime hisses into your ear, spreading your thighs a little wider with his free hand. he curls his fingers inside you, prodding at your sweet spot and stretching out your tight pussy with their girth.

your nails press crescents into his strong shoulders through his shirt as you hold him for support in humping yourself onto his fingers. “t-thank you, haji, i needed this, ah!” your voice cracks when he starts to scissor his fingers in and out of you at an unforgiving pace.

“‘course, baby..” he leans in for a chaste kiss, his olive eyes closing as his lips touch yours.

despite being a hardass with his team, shouting and sometimes even swearing at them, hajime would always be gentle and loving with you all the time. often, you are his outlet when it comes to letting off steam — either through soft or rougher sex.

although he’s disciplined and strong willed, he always melts when you cling to him, eyes shining as you take his hand in yours, guiding him inside your shorts to feel your damp panties. “need you, haji,” was all you’d said earlier, and then he had you on his lap with his big fingers buried in your cunt, the two of you tucked away beneath the bleachers of the gym, right before practice starts. hajime always has time for you.

“o-oh, hajime!” you cry, pushing your face into his chest, feeling the muscle beneath his fitted shirt, “i’m c-cumming, ‘m—”

your hips jerk backwards, his fingers slipping out of you, and your face burns as you squirt all over his lap, his hands, and yourself. a sharp gasp leaves you when you realize you’ve soaked him and his clothes, right before practice.

“h-hajime, i’m so sorry, i—”

he cuts you off by grabbing your chin firmly, tugging you to look at him. “don’t be, babygirl,” he lets you go and slowly starts to slide you off his lap, gesturing for you to stand up.

“i just wanted to make you cum, it’s okay, i still have some time to change,” he murmurs, getting on his knees and wasting the changing time; his tongue slides over your wet inner thighs, and he starts to lick up your cum.

your hands tangle in his dark hair, and you pull him closer to your dripping pussy, eyes rolling back when he presses a wet kiss to your clit.

— KUROO TETSURŌ.

“wow, couldn’t even wait till my lunch break, huh? w-what—shit, so tight—a slut.”

kuroo’s words are shaky, grunted out from above you as he fucks you, bent over with your palms pressed against the window. the glass is smeared with the combination of perspiration and your scented lotion that makes him go insane, the one that has him grabbing you all over.

“harder, tetsu..” you whisper, toes curling in your socks; your short skirt is flipped up, panties wet and pulled to the side. he’s supposed to be leaving his office for a meeting in the next 5 minutes, but when you showed up all pretty and flashed him just a little, he couldn’t resist.

the door wasn’t even closed, and here he was pushing his cock inside you and sliding his large hands under your shirt to grab at your tits.

“you like me fuckin’ you with the door open, right in front of the window, hm? fucking you just like a whore, baby.”

your puffy cunt clenches hard around his cock, and your head falls forward with a needy mewl, drinking in the sight of kuroo’s balls smacking into your clit, his cock pounding in and out of you.

“oh?” he slaps your ass, drawing a whimper from your lips that has him gritting his teeth and tossing his head back, “you like being called a whore, don’t you? you like me using your—ughhh, fuck!—s-slutty pussy like this, yeah?”

“yes, tetsu, god yes,” you keen, hands sliding down the glass as your eyes roll back and your back arches for him, “don’t stop don’t stop, please—”

you hope kuroo will be able to cum before his assistant comes by to remind him of the meeting that’s only a few minutes away — you hear her pushing away from her desk to come to his office, and you can’t find it in yourself to care or be any quieter.

[jjunieworld]

SO SOAKED ˒˒ 엔하이픈 ﹙ hyung line ! ﹚

╰┈⪼ in which you have shower sex with your boyfriend for the very first time.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ enha hyung line x afab!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 none!

genre﹙💬﹚⸝⸝⸝ scenerios/headcannons, smut, established relationship

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ shower sex, petnames (good girl, pretty girl), blowjob, slight throat fucking, head pusher!hee, wall fucking???, needy!jake, throat grabbing, clit stimulation, free use and dacryphilia if you squint really hard

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ this drove me crazy and it didn’t help that i was listening to so soaked by shy smith while writing it… enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , request ]

𓏲 𖧷ˊ HEESEUNG

definitely would’ve been after a particularly messy session. the two of you were suppose to only take a simple shower… wash all of the previous session off of you… until you noticed how heeseung’s eyes kept traveling over your exposed body. then you were suddenly being pushed into the shower wall, cold tile and water against your skin as he pounded into you from behind.

“fuck—you’re so addictive,” heeseung groaned as his hips snapped against your ass. he had your hands pinned behind you in his tight grip that only tightened the more you tried to wiggle free to touch him. you whined loudly as the tip of his cock repeatedly hit your cervix with his relentless thrusts.

behind you, you heard heeseung chuckle. “yeah? you like that?” he asked, suddenly pulling out of you. you turned to look at him, whining loudly again at the loss.

suddenly you were being pushed down to you knees on the shower floor, the back of your head getting soaked from the shower stream. heeseung’s large cock brushed against your lips as you looked up at him with wide eyes. “if you do a good job, maybe i’ll let you cum again,” he said with a smirk.

immediately you wrapped your hands around the base of his cock, lips gliding over his tip as you slowly took in all of him. once you felt him in the back of your throat, you bobbed your head up and down while looking up at him. you rocked your hips against nothing, savoring the way heeseung threw his head back at the pleasure you were giving him.

his hand tangled in your wet hair and pushed your head down further onto his cock. “fuck…” heeseung muttered. he started to move his hips. “such a good girl.”

𓏲 𖧷ˊ JAY

what started as a simple shower together, nice and intimate as you helped wash each other’s bodies, quickly turned into a heated makeout session. then that session turned into jay slipping inside you as the stream of warm water overhead glided over the both of you.

jay’s hand glided over your thigh as his lips chased after yours when you pulled away to breathe. you moaned against them just as jay lifted your leg, gaining better access as he pushed in and out of you. it was achingly slow and you were grinding your hips up for more.

“please…” you begged against his lips. jay hummed, lips now trailing down your neck and making you shiver despite the hot water. you leaned your head back against the tile as you struggled to form words, your hips speaking for you as you grinded up further.

“faster,” you moaned out. you felt the vibrations of jay’s chuckle against your neck and he tapped your other thigh. you jumped slightly, wrapping your legs around jay’s bare hips as he pinned you tight against the wall. his lips latched onto yours again.

his once slow thrusts accelerated rapidly and you broke away from him to moan loudly. “fuck, jay!” you whined, burying your head in his neck. the hot stream of water did nothing to cool you down.

the rope in your stomach tightened and tightened until it snapped, making your nails bury deep into the back of jay’s neck and your cum drip down his hard cock. you breathed heavily as he continued to piston into you, cock twitching as he finally came inside you with a loud moan.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ JAKE

you were showering when you heard the bathroom door creek open and the sound of your boyfriend’s voice calling out your name. “jake?” you asked over the pouring water and freezing your movements. you peeked your head out behind the shower curtains to see what he wanted and was shocked to see him stripping off his clothes.

“what are you doing?” you giggled, resuming your shower. you were washing the soap off your body when you felt his firm hands grab your hips. he peppered kisses up your neck from behind you and you stretched your neck to give him better access.

jake’s arms wrapped around your waist. “i need you,” he practically moaned against your jaw. you felt his big cock press into your ass, it only growing more and more the longer he placed kisses onto your skin.

“you could’ve waited until after my shower,” you laughed as you turned around in his arms. immediately, his lips pressed hard into yours—catching you by surprise. he backed you up against the wall, hand dipping inbetween the two of you to grab his hard-on.

“can’t,” was all jake replied.

he spun you so faced away from him and lifted one of your legs high into the air. a soft moan escaped you as he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed into you, wasting no time with his quick pace. you pressed your hands flat against the tile of the shower and leaned your forehead against it at the stretch of his thick cock, whimpering at the way his hips slammed into you.

within no time jake’s warm load filled you, dripping out of you around his softening cock and down your thighs. you exhaled heavily as you turned to bring his mouth to yours. jake moved you under the water stream to clean you off before turning the knob to shut it off completely. “let me make you feel good now,” he said lowly at the shell of your ear before pulling you out the shower.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ SUNGHOON

after a particularly tiring day, you saw how stressed your boyfriend was and wanted to do something nice for him. it was your idea to let him use you as something of a stress reliever.

you saw the gears in his head turning despite his blank look at he stared at you with slightly narrow eyes. the two of you stood in your shared bathroom; you with a towel wrapped around your naked body and sunghoon fully clothed. “i can see how stressed you’ve been today, so use me,” you repeated yourself.

sunghoon’s arms were crossed against his chest and you could see the way his hands twitched at your request. to make your offer more enticing, you let the towel slip from your grasp, leaving you completely naked in front of him. the sound of your abandoned shower rang in your ears, filling up the silence as sunghoon’s eyes trailed your figure—not saying a single word.

in the blink of an eye he was stripping his clothes off until you were both bare. he grabbed your arm, yanking the curtain back so the two of you could step in. you didn’t have time to think as your back hit the tile wall and his lips were on yours. “use you?” sunghoon asked, pulling away briefly to speak. “you don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

you smiled coyly against his lips, hand going to pump his already hard cock. “because i will ruin you right where you stand,” he added, breath scattered. suddenly you were flipped around and being filled to the brim with his long cock, whimpering loudly as one of sunghoon’s hands came to rub circles onto your clit and the other trailing up your throat to make to look at him. you were pressed tightly against his chest as he fucked into you at a relentless speed.

loud and shameless moans fell from your mouth as you felt your walls flutter around him, taking in every inch of him. tears brimmed in your eyes as you made eye contact with him. his pupils were completely blown out, lust and desire clouding them. sunghoon lips curled up ever so slightly, “my pretty girl.”

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[janumun]

Painted Red (LaDS Sylus - NSFW ABCs Headcanon]

Rated: NSFW/18+

Words: ~4k

Tags: oral, vaginal and anal sex, usage of toys, fingering, enemies to lovers dynamic/passing usage of guns, bondage, semi-public sex, improper use of Evol, switching power roles, dirty talk, masturbation, mirrors, orgasm denial, praise kink

Author’s Notes: A little treat to myself right before Sylus’ release. Please take careful note of those tags and content warnings before you proceed.

I hope you enjoy your read as much I enjoyed myself writing this!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)   

With the state of indecent disarray one usually ends up in —  quivering, drenched thighs, nerveless arms useless by your sides, a flushed face and an inability to catch your breath — after a single night spent in Sylus’ bed, aftercare is a necessity post-coitus. And fortunately, the man, damn him, knows and understands so, very well.  

And so, he has a pitcher of cold water, prepared well beforehand — even on days your dalliances are not what the two of you intend when you meet — ready and at your disposal by the bedside.  

The moment he pulls out of you, another short one spared to ensure you are still there, with him and well, he’s moving off of you. A clean robe he throws on, loose, over his body before striding over to the nightstand to pour you a glass.  

A cool, pleasant palm he eases against the back of your head to raise, as he encourages you take those big, long gulps of fluid to quench your thirst and replenish your energies. “There you go, well done,” his low baritone settling deep within your belly, your core instinctively clenching in on emptiness to hear his unexpected praise for something so very mundane.  

Truly, you do not know what this man is doing to your body and mind.  

Extra 

Sylus slides into bed with you for the remainder of your night and tucks close under the covers, for your much needed repose.  

Morning afters, you greet with a fresh shower (and on days you insist, with him), a pair of clean towels and a pressed outfit, ready for you to change into and later settle in for a healthy, fulfilling breakfast, whipped up to perfection by his personal chef. All of his house-staff, professional, discrete and well-versed in handling affairs of the Onychinus scion’s household. Whatever the two of you share within the confines of your privacy — animosities or amourous rendezvous —  remains entombed, within that very space.  

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)   

Sylus takes pride within his dexterity, particularly that of his limbs (...particularly that of his hands, his fingers when it comes to matters of the bedroom).  

One would hardly expect a man of his body stature to possess the nimble flexibility that resides compacted within his body. An erroneous judgment that often proves fatal to foolish foes within a fight.  

And with you, he puts that lethal agility to use: within the push of thick digits up into your clenching walls, the roughened pads of them swiftly seeking and pressing up against the spot at your frontal walls that makes you wail, makes you twist. Makes that body of yours gush against his insistent palm in an orgasm vehement enough, you see dark blanket across your eyes for the scarcity of mere seconds. Truly bringing upon you, as they call it, la petite mort. A tiny death.  

Sylus is extremely fond of your face. It’s not because of the way you look, a mere pretty face in the crowd he would simply gloss over; it’s the striking catch of your facial tells that steal his gaze and keep it captive.  

The wary intensity of your eyes the first time you laid eyes on him. 

Or the way your brow knit in firm concentration when you had him tossed to the ground, once. Nearly taking him by something almost akin to surprise, the weight of your gun, incessant, against his chest. Your mouth turning sour in restless irritation when he dared try tease at your sensibilities, a harsh knee you plunged deeper into his torso.  

The quick work of your mind — a testament of its well-endowed intellect and wit, a Hunter of good repute —  channeling brilliance in crisp words uttered from rouged lips, when the two of you, on one certain occasion, found yourselves in a particularly dire situation. One you’d agreed to accompany him to, undercover, as an associate of the Onychinus’ head.   

Truly, he has been snared with your fascinating mien since the day he laid his eyes upon you, your expressions spinning — amusing — as if placed upon a carousel, the longer he spends in your company.  

And from there on, is born a desire to witness even more.  

When you drive him back into the covers with the force of your wet kiss, parting untimely before he has the proper chance to put his tongue into your mouth and taste for himself (there will be further opportunities, he holds himself). 

The way that well-coveted, devious tongue sweeps a slow path against your upper lip —just out of reach — edge to edge. The harsh dash of red, high across your cheeks, the intensity of your breaths, untamed as his. And those beautiful eyes, a riotous mix of vexation and desire so incinerating, it turns Sylus’s cock to unbearably hard stone beneath the cleft of your ass, he bucks up against you just to see that wheeling carousel within your gaze, shift forms for him, watch that mouth swear at the exhilarating stimulation of your combined symphony, he knows, you too feel. Just for him alone.  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)  

Sylus enjoys the slick feeling of your skin stained by his cum; that exact moment he pulls out of your quivering walls to release himself in thick spurts down the length of your folds. Slips the head of his cock against the smears of his release, before pushing back, slow, once more into your depths.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)  

There is no secrecy or shame involved with a man in possession of as poised a self-assurance as Sylus; his sexual tendencies he not only owns up to and understands but has no qualms about elucidating his wants in great... obscene detail, to his partner, you.  

He wants you to be knowing exactly what it is you are doing to arouse him and exactly how to get him up to that stage.  

His palms curving about your thighs, scaffoldings of heated flesh that climb up and slink slow beneath the cut of your dress. Covetous fingers that trace delicate patterns against the lining of your panties and yet you quiver underneath that feather touch alone. “Such fine lace.” Garnet gaze, sharp, as it meets yours within the tight, much too confined space of his car. 

The chauffeur in front, separated a mere layer away from the two of you as Sylus wrenches you onto his spread lap, the firm muscle of his thighs unyielding beneath as they shift, subtle, to press you deeper against a broad chest.  

Index and middle scouring a hot, glancing path against your clothed slit before withdrawing, leaving you to scramble for purchase against the fine pressed collar of his shirt, creasing it within your hold.  

Your question snipped short with the soft, soughing whisper at your ear, voicing his true intentions. “I’d very much like a memento, to remember our evening by. Your panties...” Devious fingers pinching at the apex of your heat. “They will do well, sweetheart.” 

A moan tumbles past your lips before you can smother the sound —   you break it against the sweep of his mouth, welcoming —  at such a scandalous request, bold, without a lick of remorse. Just as the man himself.  

“I trust you will help me then, yes?” A long, tapered finger, pressing above underwear, right at your slit. Course thumb leisurely stroking its fire against that tight bead of pleasure. A rumbled groan he breaks free against your ear to feel the wanton slick of your arousal, soaking right through fabric. “That’s right, drench them well. I want your fragrance long on my gift, even after your departure.”  

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)  

Sylus has been out and about. He isn’t capricious enough to have changed sexual partners as frequently as the rumors around Zone N109 might paint him to have, but he is certainly no stranger to sex.  

His preference before you, usually having been for casual, short-lived, discrete dalliances, to indulge in bodily pleasures and no more beyond. With a man as committed to his goals as Sylus is, with a clear concept of how he wishes to manipulate the underworld to his liking, he does not spare much attention to subsidiary gratifications. 

With people at large, he is apathetic to that which does not catch his interest. There is very few within this world that truly does.  

And you, now, stand among those rare few treasures that have all of his attentions arrested. 

He finds himself wanting to captivate you, in turn, not just in body but mind. Truly, he finds you a fascinating being.  

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)  

Seated within his lap, cock nestled warm within clenching depths. 

Hair, a spread of wild locks across the coverlet, mirroring the writhing state of your sweat-drenched body underneath his, as he thrusts into you. 

Hungering fingers clawing at the expanse of his chest, down the strength of his shoulders as you furiously grind upon his cock, intoxicatedly chasing an orgasm just within reach. Strong fingers, he rushes down the length of your clenching abdomen, inquisitive palm digging just beneath your naval to feel for the vibrations that ripple across pliant skin with the vehemence of your thrusts onto his cock.  

Sylus relishes the privilege of your private, salacious unravelings, brought upon by him alone, by what he does to you and what you force out of him, for your singular pleasure. Desires heightened to witness you using his body to bring yourself to shattering ruin, it floods his veins with inebriating arousal so heavy, his body aches with the force of his want. 

As such any which way he takes or lets you take, which allows him privy to your raw, unfettered emotions rushing across your face [See above: B, Body Part] is what he enjoys most. Bringing him to completion the fastest when he is able to witness your mouth breaking apart in moans, watch sex mussed strands of hair stick to your temples, mixing in with the sweat of your body, tear-streaked pleasure smeared vivid across your cheeks. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)  

Your sexual escapades are hot, often times competitive and cathartic; an unfettering of strangled desires. Bursting to the surface within the fever of your intimacy. Arduous cravings that are hardly scotched in a singular session. 

Vocal and perverse though he may be in tongue when it comes to your love-making, Sylus is not one for poetic romanticisms waxed within the bedroom. A man of action rather than ornate words. 

His regard for you exhibited in the grip of sturdy arms that clutch you back against his body, feeling for each part of you pressed against his. In the tongue that laves at sweat soaked skin in soothing mercy, from the relentless assault of his hips against your ass.  

Roughened thumbs that swab at tears from red-rimmed eyes, post-coitus, a gentle towel that skates soft down the quivering length of your ruined body before tucking it clean into fresh robes.  

The manner in which he chooses to stay close and warm your bed, instead of leaving right after, even after the fire within your veins has long cooled itself. Foregoing his own personal mandate, to never spare a single trace of himself behind.  

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)  

Sylus takes exceptional care to maintain good hygiene at all times; a man who looks and smells just as good, the pleasant, sharp undertones to his cologne, having you canting your nose into the space of his neck, as you breathe. 

 Right at that tendon wrung taut with the press of your teeth into a harsh bite, to choke the scream that climbs up your throat with the hard propulsions of his cock into your depths.  

Downstairs, he is fairly clean; a shave on the regular, a mere fine dusting of ivory tracing a path from navel, downwards until it disappears beneath the stretch of his pants.  

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)  

[Also see above: G] Choosing to bury his skewed smiles against your wet moans, the bite of restive teeth you sink into his lip, pulling it wider.  The anchor he throws forwards for both your sakes in the entwining of digits, meshing tight against the other to ride out your highs.  

Sinking a bite in farewell right above your left breast before you part, so he knows how that heart bears its frenzied beats for him alone. A reminder he leaves upon your body to ache by, until the next time he finds himself buried within you.  

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)  

Sylus lies in possession of an exceedingly high sexual drive. And herculean, in-humane self-control to boot. Experienced though he may be, due to the course of his sexual history; he’s been able to keep his casual encounters to a minimum due to how well he is able to compartmentalize his needs.  

Overwhelming desires at times, he often spilled within the confines of an oiled fist. At others, tamping down the more primal parts of himself, until he felt it turn a necessity.  

After you, he allows himself release from that tight-fisted restraint more often. Finishing himself in white relief, trickling down his fingers on the days (...hours) he does not have your warm body to sheath into, does not have the symphony of your cries to help him along.  

Your visage in mind, sharp, jagged; he’s already expecting your next meeting with bated pleasure. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)  

Sylus loves the color red on you, appreciates fiercely how becoming it is on you.

Loves to buy you dresses — scarlet as his eyes, as his desires —  to put on, when you let him. Personally ensures, first-hand, they are well-fitted, within the confines of a cosy dressing room. 

When large hands reach to flit past the split of your dress, cup about your ass, fingers drifting about your waist. “A perfect fit.”He praises, to your reflection within the body-length mirror. Skating further up your body to finger the strap of the outfit, skirting it, slow, down your shoulder. Indolent digits, index and thumb, pinching at the hardened peaks of a breast. Curving a hefty palm about the clothed flesh. “You’re a sight to behold.” 

Red, when he curls a palm in between the cleft of your legs, leaves your flesh smarting with the short, pinching grinds against an increasingly swollen clit, stimulated for hours on end. Ruby, to match the flush at your cheeks. Scarlet, down the crescent of your breasts.  

Wine, when you make his color spill with the bite of harsh teeth into his lip, bursting blood in between your mouths, as you withdraw on panting breaths.  Tipping down in willing obeisance — he gifts just to you— with the violent tug of your fingers, directing him back against your mouth. Lapping at his wound, marking him for your own.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)  

Anytime, any place, any where.  

There isn’t an authority powerful enough on Earth to stay his hand, once the two of you decide you want your bodies against each other. Sylus does not shy from an opportunity presented, and if there is none, he makes one.  

In seclusion, or in public— 

Crowds melting away the moment his fingers whip about your waist, stealing you away into private silence. The weight of his Evol has barely scattered from your shoulders, before the strength of his body replaces it, driving you back against a carved pillar. Mouth pulsing against yours in a slow, heavy kiss. Wet, hot; parting from your tongue on a conjoined string of damp pleasure, that bows and breaks under the weight of gravity.  

There isn’t a moment he does not desire you and he certainly has no specious sensibilities to appeal to, when it comes to the chance to indulge you.  

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)  

Curses, nothing quite turns Sylus on than to see you flourish in the place you shine best. When you are dedicated and singular-minded, in pursuit of your target. When you are forced to contend against situations far out of your control, compelled to navigate the perilous dangers that come with your line of work, be it the Tenebrae, Wanderers or something else entirely. And rise above it all, through the sheer drive you possess, a stubborn nature unable to give up on what you believe in. Not unlike his own, a kinship he finds within you.  

A desire to obtain that fire for his own. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)  

There is little Sylus would ever deny you. Certainly, keep from you, briefly; demands he may not fulfill immediately, in the pursuit of your combined pleasures. 

Sharing you with another, however, is a stringent boundary. 

Despite that first impression he settles, of immovable composure, he’s territorial, rather like a murder of crows, over you. Your heart, your sole focus, he desires to monopolize for his own. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)  

Having your mouth on his cock is stimulating. Having your positions swapped and your ass grinding hard against the strength of his jaw, however, is what truly incinerates the blood within his veins. The leverage it bestows within his hold, to have you. Manipulate your pleasure to his liking, set the blood thrumming high within your own body.

Sturdy arms that cord about the plush of quivering thighs, garnet gaze that rolls up to capture yours, accompanying the wicked bite of teeth into the pliant flesh of your thigh. The flat of his tongue running from base to hood, ensuring not a single drop is wasted.  

Relishing his victory in the slow sweep of lids falling shut, the open grin that pulls taut, with the harsh, fluttering pull of your fingers at his hair, shoving him deeper into your pussy. Signaling your utter defeat. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)  

Sylus is in it for the long game. And no matter what it takes, no matter the cost, he sees to it that he gets what he wants.  

Oh, him fracturing from that torturous tug-and-pull you’ve got going on, is but a feverish wish on your part. Sylus lives for the pleasure of your ruination, delights in the number of times he can crest you to your climax. And when not. 

Part desire, part the necessity to have you well and utterly drenched before he even thinks to breach that soft, quivering flesh. Extended periods of torturous teasing foreplay, obligatory if he is to have penetrative sex with you. His size, he understands, not an easy burden to accommodate.  

He often starts out slow; long, deep thrusts into your body as it clenches and moulds against the shape of him. Stimulated eventually enough, you drip copious against him, pleasure over-riding any remaining scraps of  fleeting discomfort entirely until you’re clawing at the sturdy strength of his back. 

Fingernails pulsing at the firm flesh of his ass, his name tumbling incoherent from a parched mouth, until he’s driving into you with the vehemence of an untethered beast. Guttural groans and whispered sighs, splintering against the give of your neck in tandem to your mounting screams. Quenched against the bite of a breast.  

Letting your desires burn in between you until the moment they’re blanketed, hours later, into the dark of night.  

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)  

Sylus does not wait. When he witnesses desire pool within that provoked gaze, watches the fire that burns parched, as you seek for moisture with the slow slide of a pink tongue against your rouged lip.  

Helping you along into a dark crevice, if you’re out in public. Drawing your panties down against your thighs to reach for the place in between your legs. Roughened fingers plucking at wetness, dragging an indolent path from your slit to the apex of your sex. Curving one long, tapered digit into your clenching walls, stroking, until he brings you crashing for him.  

Proud mouth pulsing a kiss in hushed laughter against your temple, as he assists you in putting yourself back in spruced order.  

Sylus never goes the entire way, when the two of you are rushing against the clock. Ample time, he requires — and makes certain he’d have that, later — to unwrap and uncover the entirety of you, piece by piece.  

An early aperitif, however, is one he isn’t opposed to, especially when it is served, as intoxicating as you are. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)  

He’s willing and he’s game; a word from you is all he requires before granting you exactly what you desire, in spades.  

There isn’t a thing you could throw his way to turn him off you, Sylus is the kind of man to take it all in stride.  

[See also: L, N and K] 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)  

Oh, he possesses a generous, infuriating amount of discipline; immovable rock in the face of obvious temptation. That does not, however, imply there isn’t a savage beast caged, restless, underneath that cool, tempered demeanor. Sylus merely maintains inhumane control over the leash of that sexuality beneath. And he knows how well to untether it too, once he allows himself to let loose his inhibitions.  

Infinite stores of stamina (for daaays), an extremely brief refractory period and an overwhelming desire to wring you dry, entirely for himself, make for a terrifying combination.  

Your hips would long break before Sylus’ cock ever begun to lose its vigor.  

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)  

Sylus knows an opportunity when he sees one and the chance to have you utterly devastated, is one he never lets up on, and toys are just a welcome addition to his arsenal.  

Pretty little baubles, the two of you purchased together on one of your dates — a discrete, neat store tucked within one of N109’s infamous districts, the way he’d encouraged your fascinated survey of the store’s à la mode selection of vibrators and jeweled plugs, a vaguely amused smile plucking at his mouth. Pulling up every single toy that sparked your fancy for a detailed overview from the ever-present staff, more than happy to answer all your enthused questions.  

Rounding a firm hand about your waist to tug to his side, at the end of your purchase trip, breathing a sensual promise into the cleft of your ear, to let you try them all out in due time. 

And he fulfills it, in equal enthusiasm. 

Deft fingers that press up to slide against the insistent vibrations of the object settled snug into your wet walls. Toying, indolent, at the intensity of its stimulation with sporadic flicks of his Evol. Your stuttered moans clawing higher the longer he keeps you suspended within this torturous state of denial. Rejecting your babbles to let you come, that he’s been at it for hours.  

“Not yet,” he instructs, slipping a cool hand onto the shell of your hip to hold down your senseless bucking.  

It is only several, excruciating denied orgasms later does he tug free the plug at your ass, pressing his cock in lieu of its emptiness. And the way your hole clamps down in a vice at the base of him drags a shuddered, guttural groan from him. Your body stimulated so beyond sense, it drags an exhilarated laugh from his chest, in conjunction to your lost moans. 

“This is it, lovely. Are you enjoying yourself that much?” Mouth pulling wider at your vehement nods. “Do you desire more?” Sinking three fingers up to the knuckle into your pussy, without warning. A quick tug of them upwards, has his energy tinkering at the vibrator’s intensity, sending it buzzing higher and you wail your curses at him. “Hah.” He shudders above, pressing deeper against your back. “That’s it, I like those sounds.” 

“Sing higher, darling.” 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)  

Oh, his craving for riling you up and goading you is infinite. 

Even when you have him physically bound and at your mercy; the gorgeous, insouciant pull of that mouth into a skewed smile —  a crafted calculation — has you feeling as if he still holds the entirety of a winning deck within those trussed hands.  

Through each singular groan, every heaving breath and grunt, a disquieting, infuriating grin tugs constant at lips that demand further of your cruelty. As if a perverse beast actually enjoying the cage it belongs in.  

The ram of a harsh heel, deep into his abdomen, has his grunting a long, gravely sound, Sylus’ body driving further into the savage crush of your shoe — pleasure so intoxicating in the knot of strong brows, that parted mouth —  it stirs fiery arousal deep within your own belly.  

Traitorous wetness trailing down the length of your thighs, arousal that Sylus convulses against the binds of his shackles for. Manages to dip forwards just enough —  the brute —  to catch the trickle of wetness against an adept tongue, at your thigh, and lap. Garnet gaze seeking and capturing yours in a haze so vicious your fingers fist harsh into his hair, in an unforgiving pull. Your moans, he steals — victorious — for himself.  

“That is surely not all you can manage to do with me, can you, darling?” 

 And you can’t be too dishonest with yourself any longer; your orgasms far more fervid and ruinous when he’s had you both dancing along to his little cat-and-mouse game for hours on end, teasing you both with the pantomime of the act. Until, finally, finally, his cock plunges past aching, swollen folds and into your drenched, clenching walls.  

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)  

Sylus’ moans are low, licentious burrs; throaty whispers he secretes right against your ear, to turn your legs to quivering flesh. He doesn’t require his voice to rise above a certain octave, not when he has you gushing on his face with the vibrations that buffet deep into your pussy, when that pleasured rumble of his breaks right in between your legs. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)  

Sylus does not care much for binding or detaining you — restraining your senses — for personal pleasure.  

He allows you use of your precious fetters and restraints, for what it does for him — an opportunity to maneuver your pleasure — and for the two of you, that is... if you can manage to bring him under, to begin with.  

It merely isn’t something that works for him, in roles reversed, when he finds himself sufficient enough to draw forth the pleasure he can achieve for the two of you, with his body alone. 

He has innumerable ways within his arsenal he can bring you to mind-numbing finish with, and he doesn’t require the comfort of a rope for that.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)  

Sylus’ cock is a beautiful, symmetrical thing — rather intimidating at first glance. He teaches your body to take it well, in long, pleasurable lessons. Curving, slight. towards his abdomen. A thick shaft running up into a flared glans that burns in pleasurable penetration the first time you take him in. Numerous, undulating veins along the length, that bump perfect against the surface of your tongue when you swirl around it. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)  

[Incredibly high as detailed at great length in J and S] 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Sleep is the farthest thing from mind when the Onychinus’ head has you tucked at last, exhausted, within his bed. His body — long programmed — hardly permitting the scope of vulnerability slumber brings, in your presence.  

And so, he puts that time to other pursuits. Often nights, choosing to watch over your sleep, carding the occasional stray strand of hair back against your ear. At others, he brings work to bed, spectacled scarlet gaze scouring over lines of text and diagrammatic compilations.  

Not choosing to desert your side, even once, throughout the entire night, protective over your own vulnerability, for as long as it lasts. 

End Notes: Once my fingers actually started on this man, I could not stop even if I wanted to. Sylus has me gripped by my very throat and that worries me greatly LOL.

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[shotmrmiller]

living in some dingy apartment building because it is all you can afford on your income unless you want to eat danimals yogurt and saltine crackers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. the stern landlady lives on the first floor, and some neighbors blast music on weekday nights (even if they didn't, the walls are paper-thin. you know more about the cambrian period than you'd like to, thanks to room 105) but it's a modest roof over your head and while the darkened grout lines in the bathroom are permanent, at least there's hot water.

until there isn't. and the landlady has mysteriously gone on vacation for the next two months.

what used to be a cathartic cleansing has now become your torment. every other day is hair wash day which means you're bent over the cold, porcelain edge of your tub, back screaming in protest and pain shooting up your bruised knees even though you've sacrificed one of your very nice pillows to avoid exactly that.

and showering is torture. the icy cold water feels like a thousand tiny claws scraping over your tender scalp, sinking into your trembling shoulders. you don't wait for your body to acclimate, just hastily scrub yourself as clean as you can and hop out, your chattering teeth and shaky breaths echoing through the tiny bathroom.

it's like this for a week and a half, a whole 10 days of suffering with showers so cold it feels like shards of ice biting into your goosepimpled skin when it stops. warmth bleeds into the stream of frostbitten water. finally, it soothes instead of stings. your coiled, tense muscles gradually slacken with relief, with unadulterated bliss. steam rises, the tips of your fingers and toes tingle as if thawing. gratitude wells in the corner of your eyes.

if you had any money you could afford to give, you would to your savior, but every dollar you own is earmarked for the bare essentials. so, with your thick, warm bathrobe cinched around your waist, you pen down a little heartfelt note to stick to the bulletin board downstairs before heading out for work.

thank you, whoever you are, for fixing the boiler. i could kiss you <3

when morning comes, you use one of the dull, golden tacks that previously held a lost pet flyer (sorry, bilbo the hamster, but it's been a year) and pin your note up.

only to come home and find it gone, a torn corner all that remains. maybe it's karma for your callousness towards someone's pet. (justice for bilbo.) you shrug it off, giddily skipping up the steps to wash off the day's stress with hot water.

but before you even hang your keys on the wall, there's a pounding on your door, hard enough to rattle it in its frame. and the masked man you see through the peephole isn't familiar. against your better judgment, you clear your throat before cracking open the door. "yes?"

the piece of paper he's holding in his dinner plate-sized hands seems incredibly small— and it's your note.

"i fixed the water." oh. "'m 'ere for wha' 'm owed." owed?

"i'm not— um. the kiss. it's just a figure of speech." the thick muscle of his bicep coils as he crosses his arms over his barrel chest. he's a very large man, as broad as your door.

if you slammed it closed on him, he'd probably leave it hanging by its hinges. that's not worth a measly kiss.

"okay. but on the cheek since i never specified where so it's dealer's choice."

he huffs out an amused breath but complies, hooking his thumb under the edge to pull up his balaclava just enough to expose his stubbled cheek. he's got a couple of scars; thin, slightly raised. run along the sharp edge of his jaw and disappear beneath the fabric.

he leans close, enough to hear his steady, slow exhales. he smells of dirt. salt. something smoky, tangy-- like on new years, minutes after the clock strikes 12.

your hands cradle his face as you rise to your tippy-toes, wetting your lips and crane your neck-- but he snaps his head to the side,

and takes the kiss he was owed.

(he takes a screwdriver to the ac unit next. wire cutters to the fuse box. nails to your tires. anything that'll inevitably lead you back to him. you tried paying him with dinner but the only thing he was interested in eating was your cunt.)

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE MAKE UP SEX — GOJO, TOJI, NANAMI

summary: you annoy your boyfriends, they annoy you, you fuck and all is well. that's the fic.

cw: afab!reader, dry humping with toji, gojo eats you out in the shower, nanami spanks you and fucks you against a wall so slay mdni. come for the smut, stay for the dialogue.

an: this was fun to write actually, I had a whole geto part written but I deleted it all so rip to that, I hope you enjoy. this is barely make up sex tbf its more, your boyfriends being bothersome and fucking you afterwards. not proofread so ignore mistakes pls

☆ GOJO

gojo satoru was an attention whore. you’ve always known that about your boyfriend – loved him for it even. the way he’d bask in the attention from you, his friends, even strangers on the street, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his name. which is you knew when you gave him the silent treatment, it annoyed him like crazy.

“baby please,” he whines, as another hour passes of you being completely silent, “i didn’t mean it.” 

you walk straight past him, trying to keep yourself busy. it was hard to ignore your boyfriend, he was just so lovable — but you had a point to prove. he was tailing behind you, not letting you out of his sight. he was like a small child, a puppy even, his lips pouty, eyes wide, begging for your attention. 

you head to the shower, since surely that's the one place you could continue your charade uninterrupted right? wrong. gojo is right there with you, simultaneously stripping down with a devious glint in his eyes. 

as soon as the shower water turns on, his hands are all over you, you’re just how he likes you — naked and wet. you try to suppress your moan, to stand your ground just a little longer, but it was getting hard with the way his fingers were separating your pussy lips. he lowers down to his knees, his hair brushing against your stomach as he tongue drags across your wet slit.

“you gonna talk to me now?” he mutters, the sound muffled as you push his head deeper into your sobbing cunt. he smirks, knowing that what he’s doing is working.

gojo’s tongue swirls across your clit, nipping at it. his hands work their way up your ass, gripping against it as he nuzzles his face further into your pussy. “f-fuck,” you sigh out, already cursing yourself from breaking your silence, but you just couldn’t help it. the feeling of him lapping at you was just too much for you to take.

“what was that baby?” he teases, looking up at you, his face drenched in both shower water and your pussy juices. your lips part slightly, the feeling of you about to cum getting overwhelmingly stronger. 

you head rests against the shower wall the water trailing down your tits, landing in gojos hair — making it easier for you to slide and tangle your hands in. he hikes one of your legs onto his shoulder, angling his tongue further into your pussy using the way you scratch and tug at his scalp to go even deeper.

you’re just about to cum, grinding yourself into his face, but just before you can — he pulls away. he stands up on his feet, giving you a peck on the lips, before exiting the shower — feeling satisfied.

“toru, i forgive you,” you call out of the shower, needing him right back in there to finish you off. you couldn’t even really remember what he did to annoy you in the first place, but you both proved your points. “you can come back now bae.”

he damn near twists his ankle running back into the shower, an eager smile on his lips as all he wanted was to hear you speak to him again — to hear you need him.

☆ TOJI

“you forgive me yet princess?” he says with a grin, pressing kisses to your neck. 

“move toji” you snip, half heartedly shrugging him off you. technically toji hadn’t necessarily done anything wrong, it was just one of those days where you were not in the mood — and toji just knew all the wrong buttons to push.

“is your period due or something?” he teases, laughing as you roll your eyes, “i could’ve got the paracetamol, all you had to do was ask?” 

“fuck off,” you retort but it had no real bite to it — you both knew that. 

“aww princess are you upset?” he continues to mock you, a prime example of toji getting on your nerves and enjoying the hell out of it.

“shut up,” you mumble, letting yourself be taken in by your boyfriend as he pulls you up onto his lap. he’s quick to rid you of your shirt, exposing your boobs, to which he grins at — amazed at the sight.

he pulls one of your tits in his mouth, sucking on it hard as his hand works on the other boob pinching at your nipples. “t-toji shit,” you gasp at the feeling of his tongue swirling against your hard nipple, his head resting on your shoulder as his mouth envelopes your tit.

you grind against his thigh, as he continues to suckle on you. his body moves with yours as your clothed cunt drives against his leg. his lips move from your tits to your mouth, pulling you into a deep kiss as his hands start to fondle your breast. 

“you really fucking yourself on my thigh, huh?” he smirks in between kisses, tugging on your tits harder, “i don’t even have to do much to get you off.”

“f-fuck,” you moan out, overwhelmed at the feeling of his hands playing your boobs and your pussy gaping trying to clench around nothing as you vigorously rub yourself against his thigh.

“y’gonna cum for me princess,” he teases, raising his leg up slightly causing more friction between your pussy and his thigh, “gonna make a mess in your panties for me?” you nod, your forehead resting against his as you moan against his lips, buckling against him as you cum. 

he gives you a final peck against your lips, satisfied in pleasing you. “you still mad?” he jokes, already knowing the answer. he lays his head on your chest, using your tits as a cushion, smiling in content as you stroke his head.

“shush,” you hum out with a smile.

“see i knew all you needed was to get your titties sucked.”

☆ NANAMI

“why are you such a slut sometimes?” nanami asks, roughly pushing you forward, your hands pressing flat against the wall. 

you had barely made it inside your house, before your husband had your dress hiked and panties off. you went out on your weekly date night, and tonight you decided just to rile your husband up a little bit more than usual. 

he spreads your legs, easily slotting in between them, freeing his dick out of his pants rubbing it against your wet folds. you liked it when he was like this. any time you had sex with him, it was great, but there were rare occasions when you just wanted him to be a bit more mean — and tonight was one of those nights.

“i’m sorry kento, i didn’t mean to,” you lie, if he could see your face he’d be able to see the pleased smile beaming off it.

“oh cut the shit,” he comments, as his dick slams into your pussy. you were soaked, watching the way he was jealous of the waiter you were ‘flirting’ with earlier, already had you feeling things, “i know what you’re up to.”

“and what is that?” you ask coyly, playing dumb — oblivious to the obvious.

“you’re trying to get me all riled up, so i can fuck your slutty little brains out, isn’t that right?” he asks, his dick hammering into you at an unforgiving pace. he was sliding in and out of easily, driving against your spot with every hit. his hands roughly grip against your hips to keep you in place. “and it’s working.”

nanami continues to drill into you, spanking your ass with hard, repetitive slaps as his hips meet yours. your mouth widens with every slap, the feeling of his large hand hitting against your ass cheeks causes you to moan loudly in pleasure.

“f-fuck kento, fuck me h-harder,” you gasp out, his hand moves from your ass coming under to flick your clit as he continues to pound into you. you were close, he could tell, but he wasn’t letting up with his relentless strokes. 

“are you sorry, baby?” he asks, his thumb still pressing on your clit, rubbing on it just as hard as he was fucking you, “tell me you’re sorry.”

“i’m sorry, i really am,” you mewl, feeling your hands slip against the wall as he drives into you hard, you body crumbling at the force.

“do you want me to cum inside this pretty pussy?” he asks already knowing the answer, his smirk growing as you nod, clearly drunk on his dick as it thrusts into you further.

“p-please, i need to cum,” you whine, practically begging as you throw your ass back on his dick, eager to cum. “let, me cum.”

“c’mon babe, cum all over my dick,” he growls in your ear, spraying your walls with his cum, grinning as you release all over him but he forces his dick back into you, plugging your pussy with both of your cum. “shit, that was great.’ 

he eventually pulls out of you, giving your ass a final slap, “y’know if you want me to fuck you like that again, you don’t have to flirt with a waiter for me to do that.”

an: so what do you think....??? dont use the dividers property of big emp