#taking compliments is really fucking hard

[laracide]

♯ ‘ GIRLFRIEND 101 ! ’

ɞ . abstract. being lara raj's girlfriend includes... ɞ . warnings / tags. smut at the end, but mainly fluff.

⋆ her posting you everywhere. there was no soft-launch. it was a very, very hard-launch. the second she knew she wanted you in here life, you were all up in her instagram.

⋆ her singing you to sleep. lara's voice is angelic, best when you're curled up in the sheets with her, head in her lap, as she gently cards her fingers through your hair.

⋆ you defending lara whenever you see hate comments on the internet. she thinks it's really cute, when you're hunching over your phone, brows furrowed in concentration, as you tell off some random person. she smiles, and insists you don't really need to bother, but it's hard not to.

⋆ it's even more adorable, when you're pouting about it afterwords, huffing that people have the audacity to talk about your sweet, loving girlfriend like that.

⋆ pet-names all the time, especially from her side. "angel," "baby," "cutie," "pretty girl." with no doubt, are you both one of those couples that call each other babe with every sentence, ironically... or not.

⋆ always sharing clothes. she'd absolutely melt seeing you in something of her's, or conversely, feel so comfy in just your old hoodie.

⋆ her sometimes getting nervous around you. lara doesn't get flustered often, but when she does, chances are; it's your doing. it doesn't take much, either. even just a simple compliment from you would do it.

⋆ matching! you two love matching jewelry. earring, bracelets, necklaces, literally anything. lara would probably adore a tattoo, too, because that's how much she loves you.

⋆ her never having a problem with p.d.a. if anything, she welcomes it. lara loves showing the world, that you're all hers. kissing, holding hands, cuddling; she just enjoys touching you in every way.

⋆ on the contrary, if you're not the biggest fan of it, that's okay. she'll take whatever you give her, because at the end of the day, lara just wants you to be comfortable.

⋆ her camera roll is filled with you, some to gush to her friends about, some only for her eyes. lara swipes through the various album, when she's away for katseye's reasons. if pictures aren't enough, then she'll call you, in hopes that you're free. (if you're not, you'll make time for her, anyways.)

⋆ or, sometimes, you'll call her, needy and glossy-eyed, desperate for her touch. since she's not there to help you out, she'll talk you through it, her own hands slipping under the hem of her panties.

⋆ sex that ranges anywhere from rough, to incredibly soft. if you need her to top you, tell you what to you, or fuck you until your limbs are rendered useless, just say the word. no need to ask.

⋆ occasionally, you'll want to take on the challenge of being the dominant one, and she'll flash that bright smile, encouraging you to try your best.

⋆ try, because lara knows, by the end of the night, you'll be under her, and you won't even remember your own name.

⋆ loving each other so hard, because you're soulmates. and the best kind of soulmates? two best friends that fell in love.

[formulafanfics13]

Hi Love! Could you please write something with Oscar where reader is plus size and they are out or in the paddock somewhere and someone flirts with her (maybe another driver) and she doesn't notice because she doesn't think people flirt with her or see her like that but Oscar gets jealous and says he would be better at letting her know she's amazing and then smut happens

the way i see you - OP81 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: In the paddock before qualifying, another driver flirts with you — and you don’t even notice. But Oscar does. Possessive, protective, and stunned by your obliviousness, he reminds you exactly who you belong to — first with a kiss in public, then with worship and rough devotion behind hotel doors. A story about jealousy, body worship, and being loved out loud.

Warnings: Explicit smut, oral sex (f receiving), praise kink, possessiveness, public kiss, mild jealousy, body worship, slight somnophilia implication, insecurity/self-worth themes, size/curves mention.

It happened in the paddock. Of course it did. It was a Saturday, humid and bright, the usual pre-qualifying bustle curling through hospitality like static, drivers in and out of garages, engineers hunched over telemetry, photographers snapping at every angle, everyone pretending not to watch everyone else.

You were tucked into McLaren’s hospitality space, standing near the drinks table, sipping something cold through a straw. You weren’t in teamwear, just a soft black tank top tucked into light linen trousers, sunglasses balanced on your head, and a necklace that Oscar had fastened for you that morning with careful fingers.

You hadn’t meant to stand out. You never thought you did. But someone noticed. Not Oscar. Not yet. Another driver. Someone older, smooth, laughing with his PR girl until his eyes flicked across the room and locked on you.

He came over casually. One of those effortless paddock saunters. "Bit warm for trousers, isn't it?" he asked, voice easy.

You glanced up. Smiled. “They’re breathable.”

“Yeah? You look…” His eyes dipped. “Very breathable.”

You laughed politely. Nothing about it registered. You didn’t see the double-meaning. You just assumed it was small talk.

You’d always done that, dismissed compliments, dodged meaning. You weren’t used to people flirting. Not really. You didn’t clock it when men stared. You’d spent your whole life believing you were invisible to that kind of gaze, and even now, standing there, soft stomach and full hips and thighs that touched, you just figured he was being friendly.

Oscar, across the room, did not. He watched the way the guy leaned in. The way his eyes dragged. The little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth like he was trying to see how far he could take it before someone noticed.

Oscar noticed. And he was already walking. “Hey,” he said, arm sliding around your waist, fingers fitting into the small of your back like they belonged there. “Everything alright?”

You blinked up at him, smile widening. “Yeah. Just chatting.”

The other driver smiled like nothing had happened. “I was telling her she pulls off black really well.”

Oscar’s jaw twitched. “She does,” he said flatly. “And a lot more than that.” He didn’t wait for a reply. Just leaned down and kissed your cheek, lingered longer than he needed to, let his fingers trace the curve of your hip before walking you out of the room.

You blinked, confused but amused. “Was he… flirting with me?”

Oscar looked at you. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t- I mean, I don’t know. He probably wasn’t.”

Oscar stopped walking. “You really didn’t see it?”

You shrugged. “Guys like that don’t flirt with girls like me.”

Oscar’s face changed. Just slightly. Something hard edged into his softness. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” you said quietly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he snapped. “Because you walk around every day like you’re not the most fucking beautiful person here and I’m tired of pretending I don’t see the way people look at you. You don’t even notice.”

You blinked, startled.

“Every weekend,” he said, stepping closer. “You wear whatever you want. You smile at everyone. You laugh without covering your mouth. You don’t change yourself. You don’t shrink. And you’re telling me you don’t think people notice?”

You flushed. “Oscar-”

“I notice,” he whispered. “I notice everything.”

He cupped your jaw. “Your thighs. Your stomach. Your soft arms. Your face in the morning. The way you take up space. The way you fill a room without even meaning to. You think I’m the only one who wants you?”

You didn’t know what to say. He leaned closer. “I’m not.”  Then he kissed you. Right there. In a quiet corner of the paddock. Slow. Possessive. Like a statement. Like proof.

He didn’t wait until the hotel. You barely made it through the suite door before his hands were under your shirt. “I should’ve taken you right there,” he muttered, kissing your neck. “Bent you over the drinks table. Let everyone know who you fucking belong to.”

You gasped. “Oscar-”

“Say it,” he growled, pushing your trousers down. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered.

“Good girl.”

He laid you down on the bed like you were precious. Not breakable, worshipped. He touched your stomach first. Kissed every inch of it. Let his tongue drag along soft skin until you whimpered. “Do you know how good you taste?” he murmured, lips ghosting over the inside of your thigh.

You arched. His fingers slid through your folds, already slick. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

“Only for you.”

He groaned. Then buried his face between your legs like a man starved. No teasing. No build-up. Just mouth on clit, tongue firm and rhythmic, groans muffled by your thighs. You moaned his name. Tangled your hands in his hair. He didn’t stop.

Two fingers slipped inside, slow, deep, curling just right, while his tongue kept working your clit in relentless, perfect circles.

You came hard, whole body shivering, hands clutching his shoulders. He kissed up your body. Traced your lips with his thumb. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You nodded, dazed. “Please.”

He slid in slow. Thick and deep and perfect. You gasped.

He growled. “So fucking tight. You take me so well.” His hands gripped your thighs, pushed them open, angled his hips just right until he was hitting everything.

“You think that guy could make you feel like this?” he hissed. “You think anyone else could even fucking try?”

“No,” you moaned. “Only you.”

“That’s right. Only me.”

He fucked you harder. Rough but reverent. Sweat dripping down his chest. His eyes never left yours. You came again with a scream, walls clenching, thighs trembling. He followed seconds later, pulsing inside you with a broken moan.

After, he collapsed beside you. Pulled you close. Kissed your shoulder. Your cheek. Your stomach again. “You still think no one wants you?”

You smiled. “Only the important ones.”

[dreamerimpossible]

Creepypastas Kinks

I'm on vacation. I'm back worse than before; I haven't improved at all these months. This post proves it. This content is intended ONLY for those over 18 years of age. If you're younger, please don't read it, as it contains dark content.

Warnings: +18 content, dark content, manipulation, obsession, VERY unhealthy relationships.

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Masky, Hoodie, Laughing Jack, Ticci Toby

Jeff The Killer

Angry sex/hatefucking: Does it surprise you? Probably not. It doesn't matter if he's mad at you or a little annoyed, even if he hates you, he'll always take his frustrations out that way. For him, sex is about control and humiliation. So, whether you're his partner, his ally, or his enemy, it doesn't matter. If he's mad at you, he'll take you and fuck you. The situation will be very toxic, like everything else related to him, but we like that shit around here.

Dirty talk: He'll talk dirty to you, that's for sure. I doubt he'll ever utter a compliment to you, no matter how hot you are. He'll objectify you, insult you, and say things that will embarrass you, but will turn you on. I think "whore" might be the softest thing he could say to you. Sometimes he'll come up behind you and whisper to you, "Do your job and follow me." It's humiliating, his dirty talk is degrading, and it can leave you in a bad light in front of others. Ideal for those who like that kind of dynamic.

Jealousy: Uh… yeah. He won't accept you looking at other people, much less approaching them. He has a big ego; he needs you to pump it up all the time. So being around that harmless guy won't end well. Aside from hurting him (or worse), you'll have sex where he tells you over and over again not to be a whore and to respect him, even if you've only spoken minimally to someone else. He's very jealous and will take it out with violence and sex.

*Bonus: Knife Play, no doubt. It was too obvious, so I didn't include it in the main kinks to include others. But yeah, imagine he does all of the above with a knife. Depending on how he sees you, he might or might not make a lot of cuts. If he sees you as pure or even a little innocent, he'll write his name on your thigh or buttock with his knife and do nothing else. Because if you ever decide to cheat on him, he wants others to see you as naive, but to humiliate you or leave when they see the scar of an unknown man's name on your skin. He's sleazy, but we already knew that. If he doesn't see you as innocent, you could have multiple cuts on your body.

Masky

Car sex: If you're not a proxy like him, he won't see you as an equal, so he'll treat you like a sex slave or something (not literally, but you get the idea). So at random times of the day, when he's really stressed, he'll throw you over his shoulder, rip your clothes off, put you in the backseat or on the hood, and just fuck you, just like that, no questions asked. He might take you on minor missions (only if they're not that important), and if all goes well, he'll let you ride him aggressively in the driver's seat. You'll like to please him, as it might put him in a better mood…or not, it doesn't matter; either way, this man is hot when he's angry.

Degradation: Worse than Jeff, he'll tell you you're nothing without his protection, that if he gets bored of your body, he'll abandon you, that your existence serves no purpose other than spreading your legs or bending you over. He'll bring you clothes only to rip them off and tell you this is how he truly likes to see you…vulnerable and ready for him. He'll think he owns you and let you know it, nibbling at your body and telling you no one should touch Masky's whore. He'll treat you like an extension of himself. He'll make you so good to him that it'll be hard for him to even think about abandoning you.

Overstimulation: He gets worse when he's upset (which could be frequent if he's going through a tough time). When he's in a bad mood and wants to see you suffer, he'll spend hours between your legs, his tongue working nonstop. He'll laugh at your tears and your pleasure. He likes to think that it hurts you too, having him so close, but that it's difficult and impossible to escape him, so you get used to it and give him a twisted affection. Exactly how he makes you feel after overstimulation: numb, aching, and desired.

Hoodie

There are so many great analyses of Hoodie, I really can't choose any. They're all accurate and good. But in my headcanon, I have him as a brash, manipulative, and twisted man. I think he's so clever he'd have you eating out of the palm of his hand. I think these kinks define a bit of what I see in him.

Hunter/Prey: He'd like this game. Chasing you through the woods and finding you every time would make him so hard under his pants. He'd tell you to play dirty, to try to escape, even though he knows you want to be caught. He wants you to at least pretend you want to run away from him, because when he catches you, he'll win you over again. He likes to fuck you while you're face down in the ground. He wants you to scream, to grunt, to pretend to ask for help, because he knows you don't want anyone to help you and you're in his net until he tires.

Shower sex: A little unexpected, I know, but let me explain. I doubt he'll let you shower alone since you'd be wasting water and you wouldn't be a proxy, so it's not fair for you to take advantage of him (something Hoodie would tell you to get you to agree). So you'll shower with him the whole time, and he'll know how to keep you wrapped around his finger. He'll bend down and lick your private parts as if it were part of his routine. Little by little, he'll insert his fingers and you won't be able to suppress or fake your moans. He'll give you such good orgasms in the shower that you'll think you're in love with him. He wants you to be his perfect whore, he wants Masky to fantasize about getting those moans out of you, so he'll want you to moan loud.

Corruption: A must. No matter how tough or brave you are, if you're not in his world, you're a victim to be corrupted. He'll make you fantasize about being fucked by Masky and Toby at the same time without even suggesting the idea, and then he'll make you feel guilty for even thinking it. He'll make you feel like you have him in your hands so you can whisper dirty and dangerous thoughts in his ear when he's on top of you. He likes it when you break down a little for him.

*Bonus: Voyeurism, obviously. He'll start watching you without knowing why. You'll make him curious, too curious. To the point of obsession. He'll see everything: when you moan, cry, laugh. Everything. He'll know everything about you and he'll record it all. He'll have his camera full of your everyday behaviors… until he gets bored of them, takes you, and replaces them with sexual positions of you, videos of you kneeling with your mouth open receiving his cum, and you begging him to fuck you. Sexual videos and photos that will make sure you never leave him because you'll no longer be seen as the same person in your circle.

Laughing Jack

Consensual non-consent (CNC): He just pretends you don't want to. Seriously, he likes it, it turns him on. He finds pleasure in literally and figuratively breaking someone. And if you fulfill that fantasy, he'll do everything you want (but then he'll manipulate you with it so you don't let him). It's twisted, but you'll never see him so wild.

Submissive: This is the best thing you could do. Give him submission, both sexual and real. You'll have him in the palm of your hand; he likes it a lot. He doesn't want you to say no, he doesn't want limits, he doesn't want you to see him as someone else. He wants to be your owner, your real owner. He wants to pick out your clothes, he wants you to treat him the way he wants, and if you ask him for something with those conditions, he won't want to say no. Just say it gently, as if you need it, and maybe he'll break you more slowly.

Erotic dance: Go for it. He's a man who enjoys a good show. It doesn't matter if it's perfect as long as you maintain your submissive persona. Just move a little, look at him with lustful eyes, and kneel when you're done. He'll applaud you gracefully and with one movement, he'll lift you onto his lap. He'll be a little wild; if you dance with clothes on, he won't like it and will rip them off. He'll enjoy it more if you're not wearing anything.

Ticci Toby

Body Worship: It would be mutual, I think. But his intentions aren't good; he wants you to understand that he's the only one who sees you that way. He'll adore you, and while everything he tells you might be true, he'll exaggerate it so you feel in control and never have to think about the messed-up shit you're in. He'll be so good that no one will ever compliment your body like that, and he'll convince you that no one else will, because no one has ever had you like he has.

Praise Kink: Praise him, really. It's the only way to have any control. But be careful, because if you do it in a moment of self-loathing, it could backfire. As long as he doesn't know you might be overdoing it, he'll swallow it all. Your every word. When you fight, he might call you a liar and a creep, but he'll want you to praise him like you do on hot nights. It would be dangerous, but you'd like it.

Fear Kink: He wants to be in control. He doesn't want to be abandoned. He'll like it when you're scared of him, because it means he could take you even if one day you realize how messed up he is. As long as you're with him, he'll never hurt you, but he'll always like to know that you're a little afraid of him. He wants you to kneel and beg for his forgiveness, to ask for something only he can give you and grovel.

[omnom-obeyme]

You are the first person I've seen do nsfw requests for the demons and can i just say awoof awoof bark bark ESPECIALLY tickled that you have stories where the reader tops, it is so hard to find dom!reader!!! May I humbly request mc subtly teasing the demons in public? Like maybe rubbing their leg under the table or whispering naughty things into their ear during class?

It is a STRUGGLE to find good dom!reader fics or even fics where the MC isn't implicitly submissive 😭😭 It genuinely annoys me so bad, and it's part of the reason I wanted to start writing again. I hope you like it! And please keep sending requests in :) it makes me happy to get them <3

Oh, You Little--

Pairings: OM demons x reader (separate)

Warnings: suggestive content, 18+, nothing particularly explicit, reader wears a skirt in Lucifer's section, feminization in Levi's section, everything is obviously happening in public

Lucifer's having a pretty chill day, honestly. For once, his workload is manageable, his brothers haven't caused any chaos, and there's no life-threatening catastrophe on the horizon. Unfortunately for him, you're an absolute chaos agent.

You finally got a RAD skirt to replace those itchy pants you've been wearing since you arrived in the Devildom. It ends just below mid-thigh on you. It's cute! You feel really cute. And it seems a certain demon thinks you look cute, too.

How can you really be expected to not tease him at this point? Lucifer's eyes were already lingering on your thighs at breakfast this morning, and you weren't even doing anything.

Now, you're on your way to one of your Devildom history classes. You just so happen to share the class with Lucifer, and he usually walks with you to class. Today, you drop the books you're carrying out in front of you, so you can walk ahead of him and bend down in the crowded hallway.

Lucifer's breathing hard when you stand back up and rejoin him at his side, your breezy "sorry about that, I've been oddly clumsy today" doing nothing to steady him. His gloved hands are clenched into fists, and there's a pink flush crawling up his pale face.

"How unfortunate. Perhaps you need to rest for the rest of the day. Shall I escort you to my office?"

Is Mammon still breathing? Someone should check on him. He's been gripping at his pants and staring hard at the wood of his desk for the past half an hour.

You and him sit in the very back of your potions class, and the room is so big that the teacher can't really see that far back into it. You take advantage of that fact all the time. Today, you've got your chin propped up on Mammon's shoulder.

It was innocent at first, as most things are with you, but you just can't resist. Teasing Mammon is too easy, honestly.

It slowly devolves from slightly suggestive comments such as "You've got such pretty hands, Mamms. Quick fingers, too," to "Baby, your mouth is so cute. You'll let me fuck myself with it later, right?"

Mammon's basically frozen in place, and his face is hot. He's genuinely sweating. He's also painfully hard in his pants, but he can't even do anything about it at this point.

"T-Treasure, you gotta stop...please, I can't take anymore."

Levi's probably going to die. In a dress, no less. You finally convince him to go to a convention in a painstakingly accurate Ruri Hana cosplay, and this is how you treat him?!

You've been going around and introducing him to people as your girlfriend and making comments about what a pretty girl he is. He's trying his hardest not to melt into the floor or run away and dive into the sea, but it's getting harder and harder as the day goes on.

When a demon approaches him and cheerfully compliments his cosplay, he already wants to hide behind you. So when you chime in with a "Right? Isn't he just the prettiest girl ever?" and squeeze his cheeks, well...

The squeak he lets out is completely undignified, and he hides his face against your shoulder. He clings onto you tightly. The heat from his cheeks bleeds through your clothes.

He whines when you coo at him. "Y-you're evil," he complains against your shoulder. And, honestly, you'd feel bad if his hips weren't pressing into your ass.

"Aww, honey...you need to go home, hmm? I'll take you home, baby girl."

You and Satan have been holed up in the library for ages as you prep for an upcoming exam. You need a break, and you're certain the blonde sitting at your side does, too.

You shift in your seat a little and set your book down. You hum and lean forward, pretending to be engrossed in the text.

Satan immediately tenses when your hand brushes his thigh, and he glances over at you out of the corner of his eye. When he sees that you're not even looking at him, he releases a sigh and pats your hand.

It's not until you start rubbing up and down and begin full-on massaging his thigh that he starts squirming. He presses his legs together and drops his head down to look at his lap. His arms tuck in tight to his sides, and he tries not to moan out loud when your hand ventures just a little too far up.

"MC, this is a library. Be decent."

You just grin and bring your hand up to tease the button of his pants. You're fine with playing the long game when it's so beautiful to watch Satan break.

You and Asmo are in the middle of the dancefloor at The Fall, and the two of you are captivating everyone there. You can't resist the urge to slide your hands over his body and grab at his waist.

Asmo does not give a FUCK about being in public at all. He's completely shameless. Honestly, you groping him while the bass from the music thumps in the background and demons watch on turns him on even more.

He leans into your touch, arches his back, and lets out a breathy whine when your hands squeeze his waist.

He'll beg for you in public. He doesn't care if people see him all glossy-eyed and pink-cheeked, desperate for you on the dancefloor.

You don't really get the chance to keep it up for too long before Asmo's leading you to a secluded corner.

"MC~ You're such a meanie! Pretty please, keep touching me?"

Beel's so happy when you agree to get dinner with him. Just you and him: no brothers, no responsibilities, no homework. He's munching away on his third loaf of bread when he feels your foot tap his under the table.

Of course, he brushes it off as an accident and continues perusing the menu. He's going to order everything anyway

The waiter comes back over to take your orders. You order your own food and hand the waiter your menu. When it's Beel's turn to order, though, you let your foot travel up the inside of his calf. It's a ghost of a touch, but it's enough to have Beel blushing and stumbling over his words.

When the waiter leaves, he gives you a look that's akin to a kicked puppy. He's not mad, he's just embarrassed. It's adorable.

Obviously, you have to do it again. And again. Each time, you get bolder and your foot travels higher until it's trailing along the inside of his thigh. He looks like he's about to chew through his own lip if it keeps going at this rate.

"MC, I'm still hungry...but I don't know if I want to eat more food or go home with you more..."

It's not uncommon for Belphie to fall asleep while cuddled up to you. In fact, it's more strange to see you alone in the RAD cafeteria than it is to see him draped over you and snoring away.

When he comes over to you today, you pull him into your lap instead of letting him sit down at your side.

He immediately blushes but lets out an annoyed huff. Of course he's pretending that his heart didn't just do a little flip in his chest. His head nestles against your shoulder, and his arms wrap around your middle in a secure hold.

Nothing about his usual plans change until he feels one of your hands slip under his shirt to rub his back while the other rests on his upper thigh. His breath stutters against your neck, and you smile triumphantly.

Usually, he'd be snoring away by now, but your touch sent jolts along his nerves that he can't ignore. It's really not fair. Pillows aren't supposed to tease :( Still, he doesn't really care about being in public as long as it's you who's holding him.

"H-hey! Watch your hands...I'm trying to sleep here..."

Never once has he regretted bringing you to the Devildom, but tonight is the closest he's come. You're mean. Evil, honestly. Cruel, even.

He's had you on his arm all night, the crown jewel of the exchange program. In between exchanges with nobles and regular citizens of the Devildom alike, you've been tormenting him.

"Did you get new pants, Dia?" you'd whisper after urging him to lean down. "Your butt looks amazing tonight."

No one questions the reasons why the prince is whinier than usual or why he's sulking. He's always had a problem with shirking his duties, but all he wants to do right now is take you away and drop to his knees in front of you. He has an image to uphold, MC! Why are you being so mean :(((

Another noble approaches the two of you just as your hand makes a swift retreat from his ass. Your face is as pleasant as usual, nothing amiss about your demeanor while Diavolo is flustered and bashful.

Once the party's over and the two of you are alone, he's folding his big form down and pressing his face against your thighs.

"Please have mercy on me, MC."

Barbatos doesn't flinch when you saunter up to him and wrap an arm around his waist. He doesn't react when your hand slides under the jacket of his uniform, either. You don't even feel his breath hitch.

Of course, you have to up your game a little. You don't leave Barbatos's side at all. Your hands are always on him, whether they're holding his waist, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulders, patting his back, or sliding down to subtly and greedily grab his hips when he bends to pour tea.

He won't react or say anything to you at the party. As the night goes on, though, he has a perpetual flush on his cheeks, and his tummy keeps clenching every time your fingers rub circles into his hip.

Diavolo notices Barbatos's pink cheeks and assumes his butler is sick. Barbatos gets relieved for the night, and you make up a quick excuse to follow after him.

Once you're both tucked away in his room, Barbatos hugs you from behind and lets out a shuddery breath against your neck.

"Please, MC. Don't be cruel. Finish what you started."

Mephistopheles would never say it out loud, but he loves that you've been helping with the newspaper more. He likes being able to bounce ideas off of you, and he finds your formerly irritating presence soothing.

Until you get it in that mind of yours to mess with him, that is. He's not embarrassed to be with you, but he's a prideful demon. He doesn't really enjoy PDA.

During a meeting, he asks you to read something over for him. You smirk to yourself and lean down over his shoulder to read the document in front of him. His shoulders go stiff, and he shivers as your breath hits his shoulder.

You take your sweet time reading. You're rather enjoying the closeness and the way his cologne smells.

"Hm, yeah, it looks good," you murmur in his ear. His fingers clench around his thighs in a near bruising grip, and he has to bite back a shameless moan.

"Thank you for reading that for me, MC. I'm so very appreciative. That's all for this meeting. Thank you all for coming," he says tightly. He's on his feet and leading you out of the clubroom before you can say a word.

do not use my headers or repost my work without my permission. art and characters belong to the obey me franchise and are not my original works.

[starboye]

wakey wakey

hugh waking up with a hard on was never a surprise, with a nice thing like you laying next to him it would be a miracle not to wake up with a boner, and just like he's hard every morning you'd be immediately helping him out, and this morning was no different

opening your heavy eyes to be met with a something upright under the covers, looking under your mouth was just watering at the sight pf his lavish cock right in front of you ready to be sucked and fucked, and you wasted no time in making it happen

crawling your way in between his legs, wrapping your hand around his hot dick and slowly jerking him off, he immediately started stirring in his sleep but his body still stayed in the perfect position to suck him off, sinking your mouth on to his cock and bobbing your head up and down

it tasted so good, the taste really never got old, ot was so delicious you could have it for breakfast, lunch, a mid-day snack, and dinner if he would let you (he always does) and god did your sucking skills compare to no other, the way you deepthroated his cock just looked like a piece of art

the way your eyes would start to water hut you would never pull back, pulling your mouth off just to admire the meaty art that was hughs dick before diving back onto it to taste more, soon hugh was waking up from his sexy dream to be met by your lustful eyes and you warm mouth sucking him off

"awww baby you shoulda woken me up so i could give you a good fuck" hugh wastes no time in moving his blankets from over both you and him "i didn't wanna disturb your peaceful sleep" you chuckle slapping his dick on your tongue, hugh wasted no time in grabbing a handful of your hair and pushing you deeper on his cock while he thrusted upward

making you gag and choke but never pull back or tap out, just like he liked it, you could take every inch of his cock and still want more like a good slut "y'like the way that dick tastes" he asks fucking into your mouth deeply "mhm so much" you say muffled by hughs dick "good boyyy" hugh compliments with each move of his hips

you just looked so good sucking him off to, the way you glanced up at him with that look in your eyes like you wanted yim to wreck your throat without a care for your well being, ot just made his mind reel with what he wants to do with you "want my cum" hugh asks and you nod stiffly at him, he presses your head all the way down, making sure his load slips right down your throat until he's satisfied "thats it baby, now how about you hop on for a round to" he pulls out of your mouth with a pop, a smirk written on his face

xoxo, starboye💋

taglist: @mailmango @boypied @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac @r0mcom-8ngel @bbibbiiu @tqrgaryenfilms

[kireilien]

u wearing the tiniest dress ever on a date then bending over letting them see ur thong 😙

- can i be 🎹 anon?

HIIII 🎹 ANON WELCOME YAS

waybill: nsfw content, dom!teamies, alluding public sex

yudai: innocent right? WRONG WHORE A WHITE THONG IS CRAZY. you’re acting all innocent, pretending when you dropped your lip gloss from your bag in front of him in an empty road, oh lord. he pins your chest to a nearby wall, “you think i didn’t see that? god you’re so nasty. white too? you want me to fuck you right here?” “yes, of course, kei~” “gonna cum in that little thong of yours and make you walk home with a pool of cum in it— don’t complain.”

fuma: ohmygod the red would have him INSANE. if he has you on his shoulder and you “shyly” admit that you want fuma to scratch an “itch” under your dress. fuma thinking it’s only your thigh, he slips a hand under, just for you to hike your skirt up to reveal your tiny red thong ♡︎ he immediately puts you down, pull you to the side to scold you, “don’t pull that.” “pull what?” “showing me your thong.” “but i want you to pull my thong.” “of course you do.”

nicholas: black dress so sleek and sexy then BOOM cheetah print. mind you you’re still in the restaurant, minutes away from calling the bill and you go, “weno… my tummy hurts.” nicho is obviously like ‘?!? does my baby have a stomachache?’ but when he hovers his hand near your belly, you take his hand and hike your skirt to reveal your thong. he immediately pulls it down whispering, “you’re such a slut. you’re such a fucking slut.”

euijoo: a sweet baby blue ♡︎ more like euijoo is gonna give you a sweet baby bump. the blue compliments your skin so well, euijoo can’t even do anything but speed walk home without saying anything. once you do he kneels at the edge of the bed as you’re in front of him, “really?! we were just waiting in line and you hitch your skirt to let me see that thong of yours?!” “yeah?” “don’t just ‘yeah’ me.” “i wanted you to see.” “and i definitely saw? you have me so hard, shit.”

yuma: literally a perfect example of what i mean by yuma only liking certain lingerie styles in black. walking late at night around a nearby empty park and you pull a little, “hey, yuma.” when you’re a few steps in front of him. “what is it?” “can i show you something?” “uhh, sure—?” flashing the pretty lace, yuma practically run towards you and pull you to a darkly lit bench. “you’re nasty, you know that, right?” “yeah? i want you to fuck me right now though…” “…goddamn it, fine.”

jo: the way you wore a obvious thong color so jo literally can not stop thinking about it after you flashed him. jo is just sitting on the lifted path as you’re in front of him twirling around, your skirt lifts up a tiny bit! jo immediately starts getting hot in the face. you only look at him with a stupid glint before saying, “i did it on purpose.” jo pulls you on his lap, making you feel his hard ass erection, “of course you did. in a memorable color too.”

harua: pure nude. so risky. so dirty! harua didn’t even think you were wearing any panties at all! but then after flashing him when the two of you are walking home, he hitches a hand underneath your skirt, only to feel it. “holy fuck i thought you weren’t wearing any panties.” “did you not want me to wear any?” “that’s not what i said.” “that definitely sounds like it though.” “so you’re asking to get bent over some grass and get fucked silly in public?” “…yes.”

taki: bruh taki pretends you didn’t even flash him on purpose i’m dead. when you “accidentally” drop your phone, taki could only see your thong and thought it was an accidentally mishap. it wasn’t until you whispering in his ear, “i wanted you to see my thong, taki.” he can feel all of the blood rushing to his cock when you said that. “no— y/n we’re in public— don’t test it.” “hmm? what if i did wanna test it and have you use me in public?” “fuck you’re so dirty.”

maki: lien and her fuckass daddy maki agenda strikes AGAIN but c’mon! those pretty pink panties that maki even told you, ‘not to wear it outside, they’re panties only i can see when we’re alone.’ but i mean when you ask him to adjust the straps on your heels and flash him when he’s kneeling down to help you, it doesn’t help! “i told you to wear those at home.” “but no one else is here!” “god, you never listen, do you?” “just wanted to tease daddy.” “and you teased him alright.”

[kalied0skull]

everytime i see you on my dash (youre there 70% of the time) I GIGGLE becasue : 1. YOURE ONE OF MY FAV OOMFS !!!!!!!! very cool artist AND WRITER !!!! yes im still not over the fic 2. the awesome rambles !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! theyre so relatable sosos /gen 3. stevepop + stella randle supremacy !!!!!!!!!!!!!! HEAVE HOE !!!!!!!!!!! i say as i throw the many bags of my stevepop and stella art in your face 4. mmm mmm yummy art (specifically the twobit one. giggles /silly) 5. youre just a straight up awesome dude. to interact with !!!! yell heah !!!!!!!! okay sorry for storming your inbox for the 1086456384986th time 🥀 siigghs loudly /silly

DON'T CALL ME A WRITER YET, I'M ONLY ONE FIC INTO THIS HOLE ☹️ /silly+pos

70% of the time is an EMBARRASSING AMOUNT 😭 THAT'S TERRIBLE, I SHOULDN'T BE THERE THAT MUCH, BRO . .. .. CRIES AND WAILS /dramatic

awgh i can't even be that mad though ☹️ but now i feel like I'm just compliment fishing when that wasn't the goal ☹️ i was in fact hoping someone WOULD come up and be like "yeah lmao you should shut the fuck up" so I'd have a reasonable excuse and it's not just In My Head

AWGHHHH THANKYOU THO SILLY ... sniffles and sobs and wails ur so nice and sweet and and and what the fuck ☹️ /gen

[lucabyte]

.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[todayisafridaynight]

I DON'T HAVE THE ENERGY TO SAY ANYTHING OF SUBSTANCE BUT PLEASE ENJOY MOVIE <333

IT WAS DEFINITELY A MOVIE

[thebibliosphere]

Do you think Bruce Wayne would flirt with Benoit Blanc?

I think if Bruce ever found himself in a situation to meet Benoit Blanc, to his great chagrin, it’d be as Brucie Wayne. He’d be on some rich fuck’s island under cover when a murder happens and it’d be killing him that he can’t break cover to get a closer look at the body. And then along comes Benoit Blanc and Bruce decides, well he’s Brucie right now, it’d be weird if he didn’t flirt a little.

And hey, who knows, if Blanc likes him maybe he’ll let Bruce tag along and get into places Brucie wouldn’t normally be if he wasn’t trying to seduce this weirdly accented, tall glass of deductive skills. (And maybe he’s enjoying it a little more than he should, but technically he’s on vacation so…)

Blanc, of course, catches on and thinks Bruce has something to hide and is keeping him close because he thinks he’s either the killer or in on it.

Except that’s not what the evidence or instincts are actually telling him. Not really.

But he also can’t ignore the fact that Bruce managed to trip and fall directly into the filing cabinet in the office, causing the drawer to fly open and reveal the evidence Blanc’s looking for. Or that the billionaire has a slightly delayed reaction to seeing blood. Not much, but enough for Blanc to notice.

There’s also the way he keeps making suggestions that on the surface seem benign, but are nevertheless intended to lead Blanc toward where his own instincts are telling him to look. So either Brucie is one of those killers who likes to be involved in the investigation because they want to make sure you’re noticing their ‘genius’ or because they think they can control the narrative by being helpful, or…

“Y’know something, Mister Wayne…”

“Benoit, please,” Bruce says with a slow, seductive smile that unfurls like silk over rich velvet. “How many times do I have to ask? Call me Bruce.”

“… Bruce. You’ve been so remarkably helpful.”

“Oh, you know me. I always aim to please.”

Bruce’s smile takes on an electric edge that makes Benoit’s thumb slide to the gold wedding band on his ring finger. He’s a married man, he’s a married man…

“I can’t help but wonder, though,” Benoit says, matching Bruce’s smile for a knowing one of his own. “Don’t you get tired?”

His tone is off, he knows it is because Bruce’s expression doesn’t flicker, not even a jot. It’s just unnatural enough to be telling.

“Tired of what?” the younger man asks, just the right amount of cheerful confusion in his voice and an adorable title of his head like a puppy to make you miss the sharpness behind his eyes. The way his body is coiling tight. Ready for a fight.

“Of pretending,” Benoit says, lifting a cigar to his mouth, making a show of patting down his pockets for the lighter. “I know I surely do. It grates on a man, always being underestimated. Everyone thinking you’re not as sharp as you are. Not as clever, not as quick. It must be a relief, I think, to finally be seen…”

The hand that had been rummaging in his pocket shoots out, aiming for Bruce’s perfect face. Bruce deflects it, twisting Benoit’s hand in a viper-like move Benoit hasn’t seen since…

“Ra’s doesn’t train just anyone,” he says, acutely aware of how much Bruce’s expression has changed without so much of a flicker of muscle. How sharp and hard the angles of his face have become. How deadly. “I confess, I didn’t see it at first. You’re very good, Bruce. I never would have put two and two together if you hadn’t twisted Haggart’s elbow the way you did when he tried to grab Maxine.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Take that as a compliment from one detective to another… Batman.”

[arminsumi]

... hubby!Gojo with a huge breeding kink who just obsesses over you when you're ovulating and can't think about anything else but fucking a baby into your hips.

+ warnings; mdni, breeding kink, some dumbification

+ an; I literally had this idea in my drafts for a year... 😳

Maybe he's got a freaky sixth sense, maybe it's just because he's got heightened senses, or maybe there's some scientific studies to back it up; but Gojo can smell when you're ovulating. And it turns him on — of course it does. He has a bigger breeding kink than you do.

"Oh, you're ovulating." he notes after sniffing your skin... and you do a double take like he's insane. Because he is insane — you married a madman.

He pays closer attention to your cycle than you do, reminding you to mark down when you get your period, and coddling you in the days leading up to ovulation.

"Satoru, it's just an estimation." you tell him, but he's got a glow in his eyes when he sees your period tracker app telling him that today's your most fertile day — if he cums in you today, it's basically guaranteed.

He researches positions that help conception, bends and pushes you into them, and fucks you deep with his thick cock, going harder on your poor hole than he normally does — grunting more than he normally does, throbbing more than he normally does... like it just awakens something primal in him, and now he's obsessively fucking you like he has no other purpose but to breed his sweet little wife.

"Nn! Satoruuu!" you whine and paw at his torso, your walls overwhelmed by the pressure of his cock splitting you open.

"Yes babyyy?" he coos, giving you a crooked, blissed-out smile as he tilts his head.

There's sweat dripping off his abs, his pink nipples are hard, his biceps are twitching, and he's running one hand through his dampened white hair as he stills inside you for a moment.

"'s too deep! T-too big!" you moan lewdly, a bit of drool escaping the corner of your mouth.

"...aw, I know I'm just too big for ya, huh?" he coos cockily; hearing you tell him that he's 'too big' never gets old.

He's so determined to give you his baby that he tries everything to increase the chances; staying inside you for 5 minutes after shooting his load in, having you rest with a pillow under your back so your hips are raised — "Gotta help my lil' guys swim." he acts like an idiot about it, but sweetly so. Nothing excites him more than the idea of being a dad, except the idea of fathering your children.

After sex, when the two of you are cleaning up, Satoru feels over and massages your tummy with a small smile on his face. He's lost in thought, hair all messy and face tired like he's run a marathon, hopeful that this time he got you pregnant.

He'll pamper you like his queen, humming and going to the ends of the earth to get you anything you ask for. He really fawns over you when you're ovulating, and lays on the compliments thick while snuggling your neck and creeping his fingers up your thighs — pretty soon he'll sink them inside and stretch you out on them, preparing you for what he cutely calls "baby making" but is actually sweaty, nasty, kinky sex — there's a definite difference in the cute, snuggly sex and the literal breeding sessions no matter how much he plays it off.

"Satoru... my legs are still weak after this morning, give me a break, will you?"

"Aw come on, this is an innocent request... and if babymaking happens, it happens..." he mutters the last part under his breath.

"You're crazy."

But you know you're gonna fall for it after you take one look at his rock-hard, juicy pink, dummy big cock and those breeder balls.

He just beams victoriously when you hop over to him like a little bunny.

Satoru's pushes into you as deep as your pussy allows him, and then some more just to pressure your deepest spot, pinning your wrists down and whispering sultrily into your ear about how well you take him, how beautiful you look, how good it feels to fuck your fertile pussy knowing that he'll most definitely get you pregnant because his cum is perfect; thick and sticky and gooey and pungent, perfect just like he is — the cocky bastard.

When his creampies makes you cum, A-spot pressured with his pulsing tip, he grins so wide that you scold him about it.

"Stop grinning like a psychopath." you pant.

He just looks up at you, face hardly an inch away, and asks a dumb, smiley "D'you feel pregnant?" ... as if it happens so fast.

"Gee, I don't know, we should go again just to make sure — that was a joke, that was a joke! Nn! Satoru!" too late, he's flipping you over and slowly filling you up again.

And oh god Satoru loves sliding back in for round twos. The smell of sex and cum wafting up and hitting his nose just makes him plunge back into your cum-filled little hole with only one thing in mind and that is breeding you 'till you're stuffed to the max.

"Come on, y' gonna be a good wifey for me and get knocked up?" he rasps against your ear, thrusting his cock up into your sensitive spots until his creampies turn into whipped cream, frothed up and milky-white and smeared on your pussy lips.

Like the nasty boy he is (and always has been, even before marriage), Satoru forces your head down and makes you watch him fuck his dummy big cock into you.

"Yeah, watch that cock fill you up... look at all my cum leaking out..." he tuts, "... don't be so wasteful, baby... oh well, 'm gonna fuck it back into you anyways. Come on, let me in deeper — aw, what's wrong?" he coos when you claw at his meaty bicep.

"'toruuu, so deep! Y-you're so fucking deep, I can't think..."

His heart pangs when he hears you complain about being too stuffed, "Oh baby you don't need to think, just lay there and let me put a baby in your sweet pussy — gonna fuck you so dumb, the only name you'll remember is mine."

Of course, he has to get a creampie in every day. Sometimes even a few times a day. Sometimes even at 4 AM, and you swat him for being a horny idiot — but it takes five minutes to give in because you can hear the need in his voice when he whines "Please?" and starts humping against you, "I've got so much cum for you." he tells you and though it sounds so sweet in his soft, bedroom voice it's hard to take him as an innocent man, because his thick boner is grinding hard and hot between your plush lips.

You can bet you'll probably only get to sleep when the birds are chirping, 'cause your hubby's balls are too heavy and full of cum and he needs to drain himself inside you — oh, and you can also bet that afterwards he will be sleeping like a princess, clinging to you with his face snuggled into your tummy.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Can I see your d*ck? (drabble)

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

synopsis: you're lounging on your bed with your best friend peacefully until an intrusive thought wins over.

wc: 1.0k

warnings: lots of dirty talk, making out, fingering

a/n: idk what this is, i feel unhinged and not inspired to write today so this might suck but thanks @jazz-the-writer 😏💜 (side not: y'all his hands might be small by some standard that i'm not aware of but to me they're big cause i am small and that is hot, mkay)

Your best friend is leaning on your pillow looking all pretty and alluring and you can't help your thoughts.

Or your mouth.

"Can I see your dick?" it rolls off your tongue kind of accidentally. Felix coughs, choking on air as he looks up from his phone.

"Excuse me?" he looks at you in disbelief and your cheeks warm up.

"Your dick. I want to see it."

You can't really back out now.

"Um... you can't just ask stuff like that?" his eyebrow is raised, but his cheeks become rosy too.

"Why not? Do I need to get you drunk first?" you smirk.

"N-no, just... Why would you ask that?" he chuckles nervously.

"Well, I've never seen one. Not in real life, at least." you say and he smirks suddenly.

"Where else have you seen a dick?" he sits up and so do you.

"Porn, duh." you roll your eyes.

"What kind of porn?" he leans in closer and you whine, rolling your eyes again.

"Don't change the subject! Will you let me see it?"

"No, I will not show you my dick, y/n. Be for real." he laughs, shoving you playfully.

"You're totally not fun." you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

Felix smirks to himself as he looks away from you. His heart hammers against his ribs as he bites on his lip and considers teasing you.

"How about this?" he turns around to look at you again. "I wanna see yours too."

"Hate to disappoint you Lixie but I don't have a dick." you joke and his face becomes as red as a tomato.

"I meant your... you know." he looks away.

"My what? Say it." you lean in closer and he visibly shivers.

"Y-your... pussy?" he whispers and you laugh.

"Okay." you shrug and he gasps, thinking you'd surely back out after that request.

"You're for real?" he gulps.

"Mhm." you nod, your heart skipping a beat in excitement but Felix struggles.

"I mean... it's not... it's not hard yet, you know."

"Can I help with that?" you inch closer to your best friend. And god, he is so beautiful.

"We could make out?" he suggests and you agree immediately because who wouldn't want to kiss those lips?

The world stops as you lean in, the sounds of your breathing seem so loud in the tiny gap between you and Felix. The gap is soon closed as your lips press together in a sweet, awkward kiss.

The kiss slowly escalates into something more desperate and raw, as your hands start wandering on each other's bodies. Somehow, you end up under him as he keeps kissing your face and neck.

"Your hands are so pretty." you say breathlessly as you play with Felix's hand.

"They are?" he asks, a little surprised at your compliment.

"Mhm. And your fingers are perfect." you bring his hand closer to your face, his fingertips on your lips. Felix gasps when your tongue darts out to lick at his fingertips.

"Y/n..." his voice breaks as you take his middle finger in and start sucking on it.

"Fuck." Felix curses, his eyes darkening as he observes you. You can feel his dick twitching against your thigh and you clench around nothing.

"Please, touch me Lixie." you whine when you take his finger out of your mouth.

"Where, sweetheart?" he smirks at your eagerness and you nearly combust at the nickname.

Instead of answering, you start pulling your pants down and he quickly stops you.

"Are you sure?" he asks in the last moment of clarity.

"Yes." you say and he nods, helping you get rid of your pants and underwear.

"Oh." he licks his lips at the sight of you all wet and desperate for him.

"Please." you whine and a deep chuckle escapes his lips.

"I got you, baby." he soothes you as his hands run up your thighs a few times, coming up to spread your pussy so he can take a good look at it.

You whimper, shutting your eyes tight. Felix chuckles again, his thumb pressing against your sensitive clit in circles.

You gasp, eyes snapping open as they meet his darkened ones.

"If you've never seen a dick, that must mean you're a virgin?" Felix asks quietly.

"N-no... Well, yes. I mean I did this before but never went further." you confess and he smirks.

His fingers dip between your folds, gathering your arousal before paying attention to your clit again as he speeds up, making you whimper.

"W-why are you smirking like that?" you moan out as he flicks your clit, driving you absolutely insane already.

"I know you wanna see my dick. But I wanna make sure this little pussy can take my fingers first."

"Felix!" you whine at the dirty talk, the effect of his words amplified by his deep voice and the movement on your clit.

If you weren't at his mercy you'd probably laugh at your best friend for talking like that.

"Yeah baby? You want that?"

"P-please!" you're falling apart, your pussy clenching around nothing again.

"As you wish." Felix whispers and slowly starts pushing his middle finger in.

"L-Lixie." you moan, grabbing at his wrist as he fills you up.

"You're so tight, sweetheart. I don't think you'll be seeing my dick so soon."

"N-no, please, I wanna see it!" you cry out as he pushes in completely, slowly fucking you with his finger.

"If you manage to take three of my fingers, maybe I'll let you." he leans down to whisper in your ear, making you whine.

"You're mean." you pout, knowing damn well you're nowhere near ready to take him.

"I'm just looking out for you." he keeps smirking as he starts pumping his finger faster, making you more wet with every thrust.

You want to smack him for being so sly but his thumb starts working on your clit and you completely fall apart, moaning his name and gripping at the sheets as Felix brings you to ecstasy easily.

"Only one finger got you falling apart like this, hm?" he mocks as he fucks you through your high.

"You wanna see what two get me like?" you smirk at him and he laughs a little.

"I hope you know what you got yourself into, sweetheart."

~ part 2

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts

[guliexe]

━━━ONE ON ONE 18+

Nishimura Riki x Female!Reader — University AU

.ᐟwarnings/tags: study buddies to lovers, inexperienced reader, hard dom!riki, crush!riki, porn with some plot, texting, teasing, making out, praising, fingering, oral (f. receiving), choking, marking, slapping, possessive, demanding riki, spit, handjob, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare

♡ you start studying with your quiet crush, until one day, he invites you over, and you end up sobbing, ruined in his bed.

.ᐟwc: 7.4k

It wasn’t anything serious. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. You and Riki didn’t really talk. Not the way other classmates did—casual, loud, back-and-forth in lecture halls. He was… quiet. Always showing up late but somehow still getting a seat near the front. Always in dark clothes and expensive jewellery. Always watching more than speaking. He didn’t try to stand out. He didn’t raise his hand. And yet somehow, you noticed him first. Well. Maybe not “noticed”, more like kept noticing. Like your brain started analyzing him every time he walked into the room: black hoodie again, earphones in, notebook half-open but never messy. You never even thought he’d noticed you at all.

Until he did.

It was a Tuesday, and you were stuck. The professor handed out a printed exercise to be solved in pairs, but your usual friend wasn’t in class. You were halfway through trying to solve the second question alone, chewing the cap of your pen in mild panic, when you heard a voice behind you. “…You’re doing it backwards.” You looked up. He was already sitting in the empty chair beside you, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Riki. His voice was lower than you expected. He leaned over and tapped his pen against your sheet ,not correcting you, just quietly showing you. You blinked at him. “Oh. Thanks,” you managed. He didn’t reply. Just kept working beside you until the time ran out. And when the professor collected the papers, he stood up and left without saying anything else.That was it. Or… you thought that was it. Until a week later, when you were reviewing notes from the last lecture and couldn’t find a single readable thing in your handwriting. You remembered his — clean, sharp, borderline aesthetic. You didn’t know why, but you pulled up the class group chat, scrolled, found his number from a previous message, and tapped it. You weren’t even sure he’d remember who you were. You weren’t sure why you were nervous. But you texted him anyway.

You

hey riki!! do u still have the notes from class today? i zoned out halfway :(

♡

Riki

yeah

figured you would

♡

You

what’s that supposed to mean

♡

Riki

you always zone out around the halfway mark

kinda cute tbh

You stared at your screen, heat blooming in your cheeks.

You

i’m gonna take that as a compliment

♡

Riki

was one

He was so casual, unreadable, like he hadn’t just short-circuited your brain. It started with a single text from him the next day:

Riki

still need help with the lecture stuff?

library’s dead today, come by if u want

Your stomach flipped a little when you read it, mostly from surprise. You hadn’t expected him to follow up. Definitely hadn’t expected him to remember your struggle with the content. So you said yes. You found him at a tucked-away table in the back corner of the campus library, hoodie pulled over his head, one earbud in, notebook already open. He looked up once when you arrived. Didn’t smile, just nodded. You sat beside him. Close, but not close enough to touch. You opened your laptop, pulled out your notes, and tried to pretend your hands weren’t slightly shaking. For the first ten minutes, neither of you spoke. He scribbled something down. You typed a few lines. It was quiet, comfortably quiet. But there was something about being this close to him that made it so fucking hard to focus and he smelled so good. You weren’t sure why it made your mouth dry. After a while, he leaned over just a little to glance at your screen. “You copied that part wrong,” he said. You blinked. “Huh, really?” He reached out, brushing your hand by accident—or maybe not—and pointed directly at the mistake. “This line. He was talking about this, not that. You flipped them.” “Oh,” you said, staring dumbly at the highlighted section. “That makes way more sense.” He hummed. Barely a sound. Then sat back again like he hadn’t just leaned close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheek.

You tried to keep reading, but your eyes kept drifting.

To the way his fingers drummed against the edge of his notebook.

To the way he chewed on his cheek while concentrating.

To the way his sleeve slipped up just enough to show the veins in his wrist and arm.

You forced yourself to focus. Mostly.

You didn’t plan to run into him again. Not really. You were just looking for somewhere quiet, someplace your brain might actually work for once, and the upper floor had study rooms that no one ever used. It was a last resort. You walked in with your headphones already on and your brain half-fried. And then you saw him. Riki. Sitting alone in one of the back corners. Legs sprawled, earbuds in. A pen spinning between his fingers, that same black hoodie pulled halfway off one shoulder. You froze in the doorway. He looked up, and for a second, he just stared. Not surprised. Not curious. Just calm. Like he’d been expecting you. Then he jerked his chin, wordless, inviting you to sit with him. Your pulse jumped. You tried not to show it as you stepped inside. “You’re here a lot,” you said quietly, settling into the chair beside him. “Yeah,” he replied, eyes dropping back to his notebook. “Quiet’s good.” It was. Too good, maybe. Every time he shifted in his seat, every time he tapped the table or flipped a page, it felt louder than it should’ve. You tried to focus on your own material, but your eyes kept wandering. To the veins on his hands. The way he leaned back and chewed on his pen cap. The curve of his lip when he was thinking. God, you needed to get a grip. You were scribbling out notes on a problem you didn’t totally understand, squinting your eyes, when his voice came low beside you.

“You’re writing the wrong formula.” You blinked. He leaned in, arm brushing yours as he took your pen without asking and struck a line through your equation. His handwriting replaced it. Clean and annoyingly perfect. “That’s how you mess the whole thing up,” he said simply, handing your pen back. You stared at the page. “Thanks,” you said. Quiet. Maybe too quiet. He didn’t move away. Just sat there, watching the way your eyes lingered on the ink he’d left behind. Then finally, with a slight tilt of his head, “You always squint your eyes when you’re stuck?” You stiffened. You hadn’t even noticed you were doing that. You looked up, startled, and he was already looking at you. Calm. Casual. His gaze didn’t move. It felt like too much, suddenly.Too much eye contact. Too much attention. Too much heat. You forced a laugh, ducking your head. “Wow. You’re observant.” He didn’t answer. But he didn’t look away either. And for the rest of the session, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still watching you. Not obviously, not openly, but just enough to make you not being able to focus. The study session lasted just under an hour. By the end of it, your head was clearer, and your notes were neater. You were packing up your bag when he finally spoke again. “You work better in silence,” he said simply. Not a compliment. Just an observation. You paused. “Do I?” He met your eyes. “Yeah. You get distracted too easily when it’s loud.” Something about the way he said it made you wonder what else he’d noticed.

He’d asked you after the last session — just kind of offhand, like it didn’t mean anything.“It’s quieter in my dorm,” he said, packing up his notes. “You can come by next time if you want.” That was it. No expression. No explanation. You’d nodded too fast. Now you were standing outside his door, staring at the number. You knocked twice before you lost your nerve. It took a second, but he answered. His dorm was small, neat, two desks, one unmade bed, the faint smell of detergent and whatever cologne he always wore. His roommate wasn’t home. He didn’t say that part, but it was obvious. The room felt still. You stepped inside carefully, clutching your bag, suddenly hyper-aware of your outfit. You hadn’t meant to dress like this, not for him, anyway. The kinda sheer tank top was just convenient, and the skirt? You told yourself it wasn’t that short. You’d worn it a million times. But Riki’s eyes dropped for just a second before he stepped aside to let you in. And that second? It lit your whole body on fire. He didn’t say anything about it. Of course not. He just sat at his desk, motioning to the chair beside his. “Here.” You took your seat.

For the first ten minutes, it was normal. Mostly quiet. His pencil scratched lightly against his notebook. You tried to copy a few things he wrote down, but your focus was elsewhere. You could feel the heat of him beside you. His knee brushed yours once, and it sent your heart into your throat. You didn’t move. Neither did he. You thought maybe he hadn’t noticed. But then, after a long pause, he spoke. “You wore that on purpose?” His voice was low and calm. Almost lazy. Your stomach dropped. “What?” you asked, too quickly. “That skirt.” You froze, heart hammering, unsure if you were supposed to laugh or deny it or what. You weren’t even sure if he was joking. But when you glanced at him, he was still staring at your thighs, then your face, with that unreadable, maddening expression. “I didn’t mean to,” you said, breath caught. “I just… it’s hot out.” Riki’s eyes dragged over you one more time, slowly. Like he was thinking about something. Measuring it. Then he looked away. “Shame,” he muttered. It was barely audible. And he didn’t elaborate. He just turned back to his page, pen in hand, like that was the end of it.

But your whole body was lit up. Nerves everywhere. Blood rushing to your face, your throat, your fingertips. And even though you tried to keep reading, keep writing, keep breathing normally, you couldn’t stop feeling the heat of his presence beside you. Still quiet. Still unbothered. You tried to keep your hands steady, not to squirm in your seat, not to think about the way his voice had dropped on that one word—Shame—like he meant more than he said. Riki hadn’t touched you. He hadn’t even looked at you again. But it didn’t matter. Everything between you had changed. You stole a glance at him. He was focused again, or at least pretending to be. The sharp angle of his jaw, the loose way he held his pen, the little crease between his brows , it all looked the same, but you knew it wasn’t. He had noticed. And worse, you couldn’t stop wondering what else he’d noticed. “Need help?” he asked, suddenly. You blinked. “Huh?” He nodded at your page. “You’ve been staring at that question for five minutes.” You scrambled to look down, pretending like you were just distracted. “Oh— yeah. I don’t get it.” “Let me see.” He reached for your notebook, leaned in close enough for your shoulders to brush, and took it gently from your hands. Your breath caught. His thigh pressed against yours. Just slightly. He didn’t move.

He explained the answer softly, pointing as he spoke, the tip of his pen gliding over your paper. You weren’t listening. You couldn’t. Because all you could feel was how close he was. How warm he felt. How good he smelled. How careful and deep his voice was. You swallowed hard. He handed your notebook back, fingers grazing yours. “You okay?” he asked. You nodded fast. “Yeah. Just— tired.” He studied you. His eyes flicked down your face, slow, deliberate. “You always get like this when you’re tired?” You blinked. “Like what?” Riki didn’t answer right away. He slightly shifted in his seat and turned toward you. Then, in that same dead-calm voice: “Fidgety. Quiet. All flushed.” Your breath stopped. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t teasing. He looked completely composed like he was stating facts, which somehow made it worse. “I’m not—” you tried, voice weak. He cut you off. “You are.” Then silence again. The air between you was thick. Too heavy to breathe. And then, his hand moved. Slowly. He reached out and touched the side of your thigh, not high, not too far, just above your knee. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look away from your face. He just watched. Watched like he already knew what you were thinking. Your lips parted, but no words came out. You didn’t stop him. You didn’t move. And maybe that was all he needed. His touch dragged a little higher. Still slow and patient. Your chest rose with a sharp breath, and his eyes flicked down, just briefly, to your mouth, then back up. Debating.

You stared at the notebook in front of you like it might save you, but your body was already betraying you. Heat bloomed under your skin, your hands twitched in your lap. You couldn’t look at him, but you felt him. Silent. Watching you. Then, finally, his voice, low, right beside your ear. “You’re shaking. You bit the inside of your cheek. He didn’t move his hand, didn’t tease. You turned your face slightly, just enough to catch his eyes and he was already looking at you. Expression unreadable. Completely composed. Then, after a beat, his thumb dragged slightly along the inside of your thigh. Barely anything, but it lit you up. He leaned in, voice low and even, “You get like this for anyone else?” Your heart slammed in your chest. Your mouth parted, but the only sound you made was your breath hitching. He didn’t push, he just watched, already knowing the answer. You couldn’t answer him. Not with words. Not like that. So you just stared, lips parted, heart in your throat, too warm, too aware of every place his hand touched. Then, his fingers slipped slightly higher. Slow and measured. He was feeling it too, the shift in the room, the heat between you, the way your body leaned in before you even realized. He leaned closer, not fully, just enough that his shoulder brushed yours, his thigh pressed against the side of your leg.

You swore you heard the faintest breath from him like he was steadying himself. Then his hand slipped under the edge of your skirt. Bare skin. You sucked in a breath and finally looked at him. His expression hadn’t changed, but his dark eyes gave him away. There was nothing casual in that stare anymore. His fingers moved again, a little higher, then stopped just before the heat of your core. You tensed, but you didn’t pull away. “Knew you’d let me.” he said, softly. The words slammed through you like a current. Your breath hitched hard. Still, he didn’t move further. He just watched you squirm, fingers barely pressing into your thigh, letting the weight of everything unspoken hang thick between you. You weren’t sure if you were going to melt or burst. His hand moved again, slipping just a little further, fingers grazing the soft curve where your thigh met your hip. Your breath caught, shallow and quick. Riki’s breath hitched softly against your neck as he leaned in, just enough that you could feel the warmth, his steady, quiet presence like a steady flame flickering against your skin. You could feel him—so close now, that his chest brushed against your arm, his steady heartbeat like a silent drum beside you.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, loud and urgent. He stayed there, patient, watching. Then, the quietest sound, a breath, almost a sigh, right at the hollow of your neck. Your skin tingled. And then, his lips brushed your skin. A gentle ghost of a kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. You turned your head slightly, searching for more. His eyes met yours, dark and unreadable, holding yours with an intensity that made your heart leap. Without breaking eye contact, he tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours. It was soft at first, testing. But then it got deeper, firmer, as if he’d been holding back all along. Your hands twitched at his waist, unsure and desperate. The world shrank until there was only the two of you—breath mingling, heat pooling between you. He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, voice low and steady. “Finally.” His lips pulled away from yours just long enough to catch his breath. Then, without a word, Riki’s hand slid from your thigh to your waist, gripping firmly as he pulled you up and pressed you back against the edge of the desk. The smooth wood was cool beneath your palms, but his body was hot and heavy, looming over you, shadowing your smaller frame. You could feel the weight of him, the strength in his arms holding you in place. His mouth crashed back onto yours, more demanding now, hungry and fierce. His hands roamed freely, sliding up your sides, cupping your ribs, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your tummy.

You gasped when one hand slipped beneath your shirt, fingers ghosting over bare skin, no barrier, nothing between you and him. Your back arched instinctively. His other hand found your throat, thumb brushing lightly, fingers framing your pulse. His eyes closed as he kissed you like he was starving, like he needed to devour every inch of you. Your hands tangled in his hair, desperate to hold on, to pull him closer. His mouth moved against yours with an urgent rhythm, deep, claiming. You felt every heartbeat, every breath, every touch. You were pinned but free all at once, lost in the heat of him. And even as his grip tightened just slightly at your throat, it wasn’t rough, it was possessive, controlled, making clear you belonged to him in this moment. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only the two of you, pressed close, skin on skin, heat and hunger tangled in every kiss and touch. You couldn’t keep still anymore. Your legs squeezed together, your hands gripping the edge of the desk like you’d fall apart without it. His touch was everywhere—soft palms sliding under your shirt, thumbs brushing over your bare chest, knuckles grazing places that made you gasp and twitch and whine without meaning to. You were dizzy with him. Every breath came out too fast, too shallow. He pulled back from the kiss just enough to look down at you. Your lips were parted, swollen. Your chest rising in frantic little jolts. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, gaze dragging across your face.

You whimpered. It slipped out before you could stop it—quiet, needy, helpless—and his eyes darkened instantly. He liked that. One hand splayed across your stomach, holding you still, the other slid higher, over your chest again, thumbs brushing your nipples until your head tipped back and a shaky moan slipped through your lips. You were panting now, thighs pressed together, aching. “Riki…” you breathed, barely a whisper. His hand came back up to your throat, firm but gentle, tilting your chin so you had no choice but to look up at him. You were flushed. Eyes wide, lips wet, a total mess. And he looked down at you like he’d never seen anything more perfect. “You look so fucking pretty like this,” he said lowly, like he was talking to himself more than you. You blushed, a sigh leaving your mouth, back arching into his touch. His mouth crashed onto yours, hungrily, like he needed to shut you up before you begged. His hips pressed forward, caging you completely, and you felt him, hard through his jeans, pressed against your lower stomach. You made a soft, desperate sound in your throat, and he swallowed it down. Your hands moved without thinking, tugging at his shirt, trying to get closer, trying to do something with how badly you wanted him, but he didn’t rush. He kissed you harder, messier, until your legs felt weak and your body trembled beneath him. Until all you could do was gasp and whine and let him touch and take. You weren’t thinking anymore. Just feeling. Every brush of his fingers, every scrape of teeth, every low breath against your skin. And the worst part was how badly you wanted more, how badly you needed it. How you would’ve said yes to anything he asked.

Your chest rose and fell in short, shaky breaths as he pulled away just enough to look at you again, eyes half-lidded, lips kiss-bitten. His hand slipped down from your throat, trailing slowly along your collarbone, then lower, until his palm flattened over your ribs again. His eyes dragged slowly over your body—the way your chest heaved, the way your thighs pressed together like you were trying to hold yourself in place. Then he leaned in, voice brushing against your ear, low and steady, “Look at you,” he murmured. “So worked up and I haven’t even done anything yet.” Your breath caught, eyes fluttering shut for a second, because God, he was right. His fingers skimmed just above your waistband, dragging across your lower stomach, the touch featherlight, maddening. “You want it that bad, baby?” he asked, quietly, like he already knew the answer. You let out a whimper, soft and high, nodding before you could even think. That made him smile, just barely. Almost smug. His fingers dipped under the hem of your skirt, warm and unhurried. “Let me see how bad,” he said.

His hand moved with ease, sliding beneath your skirt, soft fingertips dragging the fabric of your panties down your thighs—slow, almost teasing. He didn’t take them off, just pushed them down, exposing you enough to make you shy. The cool air hit you, and then, his fingers. Two of them, thick and warm, sliding through your soaked folds like he was testing you. Your hips bucked. He chuckled, quiet, deep in his chest. “So wet already,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Dripping.” Your face burned, but you couldn’t look away. You were panting, lips parted, eyes wide as his fingers pressed in just a little. You whined. He exhaled slowly, enjoying every second of watching you unravel. And then, without warning, he pushed his fingers in—deep, smooth, filling you so easily your head fell back with a broken moan. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his jaw tense. “You feel insane.” Your walls clenched around him, and he felt it, smirked a little when your legs twitched, when your body rocked instinctively against his hand. His other hand slid up your thigh, settling on your hip to hold you still. Then he started moving. Slow thrusts of his fingers, curling just right, his thumb dragging over your clit in lazy, perfect circles.

You were gone. Melting. Whimpering with every curl, every press, every stroke. Your thighs trembled. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers digging in like you needed something to hold onto. “Riki—” you gasped, voice wrecked and whiny. “Please—” He leaned in again, his breath hot against your neck. “Please what, hm?” You whimpered, hips jerking. “Need m-more,” you managed. His fingers thrust a little deeper, a little faster, his thumb pressing harder on your clit. “You’ll cum for me like this,” he said lowly, lips brushing your ear, “and then I’ll give you more.” Your body arched. The pressure built fast, tight and overwhelming, and all you could do was nod, desperate little noises spilling from your lips as your climax started to crest. You were already close, right on the edge, hips twitching, thighs shaking, the pressure unbearable. But then his hand shot up, suddenly, firmly gripping your jaw. His fingers pressed into your cheeks, tilting your head up, forcing you to look at him. “Let go,” he whispered, fingers thrusting faster now, relentless. “Be a good girl and cum.” That was it. Your entire body shattered. You came with a cry, legs clamping around his wrist, hips jerking against his hand as waves of heat and pleasure rolled through you. Your eyes barely stayed open, wide and glossy, locked onto his as you came undone right there on the desk, whining, pulsing hard around his fingers. He watched you, tight grip still on your face, other hand working you through it like he wanted to see you lose control. “Good girl,” he muttered, lips brushing yours. “Just like that.”

You were still trembling, thighs twitching from the aftershocks, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. He pulled his fingers from you slowly, watching the way you flinched from the overstimulation. His hand was slick with you, dripping, and he stared at it for a beat, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he dropped to his knees. Your breath hitched. You barely had a second to react before his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider, and his mouth was on you. A gasp tore out of your throat as his tongue dragged through your folds, slow and greedy. “Ngh—Riki!” Your hand flew to his hair, the other on the desk, fingers gripping the edge until your knuckles turned white. He moaned softly into you, the vibration making your hips buck. His hands squeezed tighter, holding your thighs apart, keeping you open for him as he lapped up every drop of your release, messy, shameless. Your head fell back. Another whine escaped your lips, high and breathless, and still—still—he kept going, tongue swirling around your clit, flicking with just enough pressure to make your eyes roll back. When he finally pulled away, your skin was hot and damp, your whole body still twitching, breath caught in your throat. He stood, and then his hand wrapped around your neck again—firm, possessive—and he yanked you into a kiss. His mouth crashed into yours, lips slick with your taste, tongue sliding against yours with no warning, no hesitation. You whimpered against him, hands reaching for his shirt, for anything to ground yourself.

He kissed you like he owned you. Like he needed to devour you. His grip on your throat tightened and you moaned into his mouth, helpless and hazy, your whole body pliant against his. And when he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen, his eyes dark, and his voice—fuck—his voice was low and raw when he spoke. “You’re mine,” he said, quiet but rough, meant for just you. “Got it?” Your heart stuttered. He’d barely said more than a few words to you since you met—always calm, unreadable, barely emoting—and now he was gripping your throat, kissing you like he wanted to ruin you, claiming you like you already belonged to him. You didn’t even hesitate. Your head nodded, small and shaky, your whole body still trembling under his touch. “I’m yours,” you whispered, breathless. It came out like a confession, sitting heavy in your chest for too long, just waiting for him to pull it out of you. Your eyes met his, wide and glossy, and the look on your face, sweet and desperate, giving him the biggest puppy eyes he’d ever seen. But you looked so pretty like that—wrecked and breathless, your lips parted, your thighs still shaking, feeling like you needed him more than air.

Riki’s jaw tightened, and something dark flickered across his expression. His grip on your face stayed firm, fingers digging just a little harder into your cheeks. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, voice rough, barely held back. “You’ll make me fucking crazy.” But he was already leaning in again, mouth finding yours in a mess of tongue and teeth, kissing you so hard your head tipped back from the force of it. You moaned into him, needy and sweet, letting him take whatever he wanted, and he did. Then suddenly, his arms wrapped around your thighs and he lifted you. You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your body still trembling from the aftermath of his touch. He carried you the short distance from the desk to his bed and laid you down gently, never breaking contact. His body hovered over yours, eyes locked on your flushed, fucked-out face. Your shirt was rucked halfway up your stomach, your lips swollen from his kisses, thighs still twitching where they wrapped around his waist. He stared at you for a long, quiet second, trying to memorize you like this. Then his hands came down, one to your thigh, pushing it open wider, the other to your ribs, sliding up your bare skin under your shirt, slow and deliberate until his palm cupped your chest. No bra. Just you, soft and warm and whimpering under his touch. “You don’t even know what you do to me,” he muttered. You bit your lip, hips shifting instinctively, seeking friction. Anything. But he didn’t give it to you, not yet. He just leaned down, mouth brushing your neck, tongue licking a slow stripe up to your jaw before he kissed you there, hot and open-mouthed, leaving a mark. Your fingers clutched at his shirt. “Riki…” He hummed lowly, like the sound of his name falling from your lips lit something in him.

His mouth found your ear, breath hot, “Tell me you want it,” he said. “Say it.” Your whole body was burning now, flushed from head to toe, your voice coming out in a shaky, helpless whisper, “I want it. I want you.” And that was all it took. He kissed you again, before his hands moved, yanking your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second glance. Then he just stared. Your bare chest rising and falling, skin flushed, nipples already hard from his teasing. His hands dragged up from your waist, until they cupped your tits, thumbs brushing over them gently, considering the way his jaw clenched like he was barely holding back. “Look at you…” he muttered, voice ragged. “Fuck.” And then he was on you. Mouth hot and desperate, he ducked his head and devoured you, lips closing around one nipple while his hand kneaded the other, tongue flicking and sucking until your back arched off the bed with a gasp. He bit,not too hard, just enough to make you squeal, and soothed it with his tongue right after, moving between your breasts like he couldn’t choose which to ruin first. You were already panting, fingers tangled in his hair, thighs rubbing together. Sloppy kisses turned into bites. He left hickies on your neck, down your collarbone, over the swell of your tits, under them, across your ribs. You could feel the bruises blooming under his mouth, red and raw, one after the other like he wanted to brand every inch of you. He kissed down, mouthing at your tummy next, dragging his teeth over the soft skin before sucking another mark right beneath your navel.

And all that while watching you. Smirk barely there, eyes half-lidded but burning, soaking in every whimper, every twist of your body, every broken moan. “No one else gets to see you like this. Only me.” he said against your skin. He leaned back just enough to yank his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside carelessly. You barely had time to look—at the lean muscles, the toned arms, the sharp lines of his waist—before his hands were back on you again, sliding under the waistband of your skirt. “Lift your hips.” he said, and you obeyed without thinking. He dragged the skirt down your thighs, watching the way you shivered beneath him. He took his time peeling it off, letting his hands skim down your legs like he was memorizing the feel of you. Then he tossed it aside and looked down at you—naked, body covered in marks, chest rising and falling fast. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, eyes roaming like he couldn’t decide where to touch you first. His hands found your hips, big, warm and possessive, and then they started moving. One slid up your side, across your stomach, over your breast, the other to your jaw, fingers stroking gently before slipping between your lips. “Suck,” he said, low and commanding. Your lips parted automatically, and you wrapped them around his thumb, letting him press it down on your tongue. He watched you—watched your pretty, desperate mouth take it in, cheeks hollowing slightly as you sucked. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Good girl.” You whimpered around his thumb, pussy pulsing, body practically buzzing from the tension. His other hand was still moving—down your ribs, over your tummy, lower, skimming just above your heat. Then he sat back a little on his knees, keeping his thumb in your mouth as he reached for his waistband.

He hooked his fingers into the edge of his sweats and slid them down just enough to reveal the outline of his cock through his boxers—thick, hard, straining against the fabric. Your breath caught, eyes flicking down before darting back up to his face. And he was already watching you. A soft smirk curved his lips as he tilted his head, thumb still resting on your tongue. “My cute girl,” he cooed. “So needy for me already… you really can’t help yourself, can you?” You hummed around his thumb, cheeks flushing even deeper, thighs pressing together as the heat pulsed harder between them. His hand drifted back to his waistband, and this time, he slipped his fingers under. You watched with wide eyes, heart pounding, breath catching in your throat when he finally pulled his cock free. So big and heavy, flushed at the tip, already leaking. The sight made your stomach flip, your mouth go dry, and you could barely look before your gaze darted away, face burning. “Aww,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “what’s wrong, baby?” You shook your head quickly, eyes flickering back up to his face, trying not to stare but completely failing. Your thighs squeezed together instinctively, your body so hot you could hardly stand it. He leaned in closer, one hand returning to your cheek, fingers stroking your flushed skin. “Shy all of a sudden?” he teased, a dark smile playing on his lips. “You were being so brave for me a second ago.” You whimpered, squirming under his gaze, his cock now resting heavy against his abs as he leaned. He took your hand and gently guided it to wrap around him. “Come on,” he whispered. “Touch me.” Your fingers curled around him, tentative and trembling, and his breath hitched like he hadn’t expected you to feel that good.

He swore under his breath, hips twitching slightly, and his head fell down. “That’s it,” he whispered, his hand covering yours, guiding your movements slow and steady. “Just like that.” You stroked him softly, your touch shy, eyes flickering between his flushed cock and his face—so close, so focused, the sight of your hand on him was driving him insane. Your hand stayed on him, guided by his, and the longer you touched him, the more confident your fingers became. You swallowed hard, heart racing at the weight of him in your palm, pulsing in your hand. His cock twitched again, and a low groan left his lips, rough and strained. “Fuck,” he muttered and leaned closer, his forehead brushing yours. His breath was warm and shaky, fingers tightening over yours. “Doing so good.” You looked up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted. There was something in the way he stared back, eyes hooded, jaw tight, he was barely holding himself back. He took your hand away from him gently, kissed your wrist, and pressed your arm back against the bed “Spread your legs for me.” You obeyed. Slowly, nervously. But the second your thighs parted, his gaze dropped and darkened. “God,” he said under his breath. He crawled between your legs, hands running up your thighs.

He leaned down, kissed you—soft, slow, deceptively gentle—before lining himself up, one hand wrapped firmly around his cock, slowly moving it up and down your folds, the other resting over your ribs grounding himself. “You ready f’me, baby?” he asked, voice quiet, low against your mouth. You nodded, a soft, breathy sound escaping your lips, but it wasn’t enough for him. His hand slid to your throat again, “Use your words.” “I—I want you,” you whispered, and the moment the words left your mouth, his hips pushed forward slowly. The stretch made your breath catch. His hand slid under your thigh, hitching it up. You could feel him, pressed just against your entrance, stretching you, but not moving yet, giving you time. His hand curled around your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip with surprising tenderness for someone who’s splitting you in half. You gripped the sheets beneath you, lips parting in a gasp as the pressure built inside you. Every inch filled you more than you expected, and it was overwhelming, unfamiliar, but somehow addictive. Riki’s mouth found your shoulder, teeth grazing lightly over your skin, like he was trying to distract you from the way he was sinking deeper. “You’re doing so good,” he murmured against your skin. You whimpered, your body tensing. “Breathe for me,” he said, and his voice was so calm, so steady, it soothed you even while you felt like falling apart. You let out a shaky exhale, eyes fluttering shut, and after another moment, he was fully inside.

Your eyes met his, teary and wide, and your lips trembled. “Riki—s’too much,” you admitted, voice almost shy. He smirked, “I know,” leaning down to kiss your jaw. “You’ll take it for me, won’t you?” Your stomach flipped at the words. You nodded, more sure this time. Then he pulled back just a little, before thrusting again, and your whole body shuddered at the sensation. “That’s it,” he whispered, voice ragged as he buried himself deeper. “So tight… fuck, y’feel so good.” His hips rolled into you slow, dragging against your walls, making you moan louder with each stroke. You clung to him, nails digging into his arms, breath coming in sharp little gasps as he set a rhythm. It was too much, too full, too good, and your body couldn’t keep up. Every time he moved, you clenched tighter around him. He pulled back slightly and grabbed your leg, lifting it high and pressing it over his shoulder. The angle changed everything—you cried out, high and helpless, your head tilting back against the mattress as he thrust deeper, harder, splitting you open with every roll of his hips. “Yeah,” he muttered, fingers digging into your thigh, mouth kissing it softly, as he started to lose control. “That’s it. Let me hear you.” You were loud. Whining, whimpering, trembling under his body, your hands gripping the sheets. “R-Riki—!” you sobbed his name, tears welling at the corners of your eyes as your body jolted under the force of each thrust.

And that did something to him. His hand shot to your throat again, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. You were a mess. Eyes wet, lips trembling, mouth open in breathless, broken sounds, and when the first tear slipped down your cheek, he smiled. Not sweet. Not soft. A sharp, dark twist of his mouth like he was proud of it. And then he slapped you. A clean, firm hit across your cheek—quick and shocking—and you gasped, more in disbelief than pain. Your head whipped slightly to the side, your moan caught somewhere between pleasure and stunned heat. His hand lingered there, fingers spread across your cheek, claiming you. “Fucking love seeing you cry for me.” Your stomach dropped, heat flooding your veins, and you started sobbing harder—overwhelmed, aroused, completely undone. Your hands reached up, grabbing the one that had just hit you, fingers curling around his wrist, holding it like it anchored you. You couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that your crush—the one who barely spoke, who barely looked at anyone—had slapped you, and now he was fucking you like this, praising the tears he pulled from your eyes, and you fucking liked it. You needed more.

He shifted his weight, grabbed both of your thighs, and lifted—guiding your legs up and over his shoulders in one smooth, strong movement. The change in angle made you moan loudly, the new depth dizzying, the sound leaving your lips raw and wrecked. Your hands fumbled at the sheets, knuckles white as you held on, tears spilling down your cheeks again as the pleasure pushed you past the edge of sense. “Riki—” you choked out, completely gone, “I… I can’t—” “Yes, you can,” he groaned, slamming into you harder, his hand tightening on your jaw. “You’re gonna take every fucking inch.” Your eyes rolled back, body arching, sobs turning into moans, hands gripping him like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. His gaze locked onto yours, dark, possessive, mouth parted slightly as he caught the sight of you all spread out and shaking for him. “Open your mouth.” You gasped, but you did—lips parting, eyes wide and waiting. He leaned over you, hips never slowing down, and with a sharp breath through his nose, he spit into your mouth. “Swallow.” You did. Without thinking. Without hesitation. And that seemed to please him. His hand came to your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear like he was calming you, and then—Slap.

A soft one. Just enough to make your breath catch, to light another spark under your skin. You whimpered and he firmly gripped your jaw, tilting your head to make sure you looked at him. “You’re fucking perfect,” he whisper softly. “You’ll do anything I say, won’t you?” Your pussy clenched around him, back arching from the bed. And still, you nodded, too far gone to form words, too desperate for him. You were gasping, moaning brokenly into the heat of his neck as he pounded into you, deep and rough, your legs high on his shoulders. His grip on your thighs was bruising, and you clung to the bedsheets, your vision blurred from tears and pleasure. Your body was stretched and aching, but it didn’t matter, not when he was murmuring filthy praise in your ear, not when every thrust perfectly hit your cervix. “You’re mine,” he whispered. “This pussy—” he snapped his hips hard, making you cry out, “—belongs to me.” You sobbed, nodding, walls fluttering around him. “Want you to cum with me,” he said roughly, teeth gritted as his rhythm got sloppy. “Let go, baby. Make a mess on my cock.” You couldn’t hold back anymore. You came hard, a cry catching in your throat as you clenched around his cock, trembling, unraveling. The moment your body gave out beneath him, he buried himself as deep as he could go and let go, filling you with a whimper, low and desperate in your ear. His cum making you feel so full, so warm inside you. “Mine,” he muttered again, softly kissing your neck.

Your breathing was still shaky when he pulled out, careful and slow. You winced a little at the sensitivity, and immediately, Riki’s expression changed. The fire in his eyes dimmed and his hand came to rest on your thigh, warm and gentle. “You okay, baby?” he asked quietly. “Yeah… just sore.” you blinked up at him. He leaned down, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Stay here.” You watched him move around his small dorm room, grabbing tissues. He cleaned you up gently, his touches surprisingly sweet and patient. When he was done, he tugged the sheets over your bare body, then slid in next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. It was quiet for a while. Your heart was still trying to calm down, and Riki just lay there, soft hand caressing your tummy. Then, out of nowhere, he spoke. “Wanna go to the movies tomorrow?” You blinked, turning your head to look at him. “What?” He glanced down at you, his face unreadable, but there was something softer around the eyes. “You heard me.” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. After everything, after the rough, possessive way he’d claimed you, this was the last thing you expected. You buried your face in his chest, cheeks burning. “Okay,” you whispered. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Cool.”

my other works ➵ masterlist

a/n: i got a little carried away with this one yall lmao i've been so fucking obsessed with this man lately i can't stop thinking abt him please i need him so badddd :(

© guliexe

[thebestsetter]

Sae's nutritionist has been having a hard time ever since the athlete started a family with you.

Sae has always followed his diets strictly. Never ate chocolate, avoided sugar the best he could and mainly ate only fruits and vegetables. His behavior was always praised by all his nutritionists because of how easy it was working with him.

Sae started to "disobey" his diet when he moved in with you.

It all started when you began to cook him lunch for after morning practice. You knew he had to follow a strict diet, so you never made something too unhealthy. Sometimes, you even sneaked some sweet treats for him, but it was too little to do any harm, so his doctor just pretended not to notice it.

But this?? This was too much.

"Sae-kun" he said, pointing at the pink princess pot on Sae's hands "W-what is this?"

"My daughter packed my lunch today" Sae smiled softly, just like he always did when talking about you or your daughter. The doctor would've thought the whole ordeal was cute, if not for what was inside the pot: a box orange juice you buy on those vending machines (it's orange color was almost radioactive. God knows how much sugar there is in it), a (very) poorly made pink cupcake, with rainbow sprinkles all over it; and scrambled eggs (thank God at least one healthy thing).

"You can't possibly be thinking about eating this" his doctor deadpanned, but quickly added "T-the cupcake and the juice, I mean. The eggs are fine"

Sae's smile instantly fell, and he stared at the nutritionist with a frown

"What's wrong with my daughter's food?" It wasn't a question. Sae was daring the doctor to say something bad about the cupcake his sweet, lovely daughter made, staring at him with a cold and almost dangerous gaze.

The poor doctor should've stopped there. He really should have. But if he let Sae eat this Chernobyl looking cupcake, he might as well just throw his nutrition degree on the nearest trash can.

"It's not good for your health" the nutritionist said, staring at the Cinderella that was painted on the top of the pot "As an athlete, you know it's important to lose old eating habits. You can't eat this."

Sae stared at the doctor for what felt like centuries, but finally looked at the cupcake and carefully picked it up, holding it in his hands like it was the most valuable thing he ever held.

The way his gaze softened just by looking at that sorry excuse of a pantry almost scared the doctor. One second, he was looking at him with what could only be described as pure hatred. The other, he was looking at an ugly cupcake like it was a masterpiece.

Anyways, Sae's doctor was just glad this was over with. Itoshi obviously was going to throw the cupcake away, eat the eggs, and just order something else to compliment his lunch. It would all be okay.

Or so he thought .

"You know" Sae started, peeling the paper that was carefully wrapped around the sweet treat "It's interesting that you talk about losing"

"Why?" The doctor asked, not really liking Sae's voice

Sae stared at the man for a while, then slowly looked at the cupcake and brought it up to his mouth. Just as he was about to take a bite out of it, he stopped and stared at the man again

"Cause you just lost your job"

"What?"

"You're not deaf" Sae said "You're fired. Grab your stuff and get out of my sight"

"You can't do that!" The doctor screamed at him, which only made Sae roll his eyes

"I can and I did. Out. Now."

The nutritionist knew it was useless arguing with the stoic Sae Itoshi. With a sigh, he turned away from the player to go and collect his belongings

"Just one more thing before you go"

He heard Sae say, which urged him to turn around. The moment he laid his eyes on Itoshi, the footballer took a bite out of the pink cupcake

"This is fucking delicious."

The doctor would NEVER eat a cupcake in his life again.

Masterlist

[cathnospam]

Content Warning: College MHA AU, Oral (F! Receiving), Bakugo being Bakugo, Reassurance, SoftDom!Bakugo

You cried during sex and it freaked Bakugo out…

“B-bab—-y/n?!” The soft concerned look on his face in contrast on what he was just doing between your thighs was almost enough to make you break into a chuckle.

Not knowing what personal space is he cupped your chubby tear stained cheeks with his warm sweaty palm and rubbed the wetness away the best he could, “Why didn’t you use the safe word?!”

You blink, you could feel your high slowly wearing off if it wasn’t for his knee rubbing up against your clit. He didn’t even realize he was so close. “Huh?”

“Did I hurt you? Why —why didn’t—“

The tears just flowed naturally from your face, this was your first time with him and this new feeling of passion left you overwhelmed, his kissed, his curious touches, the groans and pants coming from you both as you rolled around in the messed up sheets of his bed.

His mouth was just as curious and intense as his hands, and in Bakugo fashion he gave it his all, looking up over the valley of your pretty breast to take notes of your reactions; to watch your face change when his tongue flicks in a new area, his lips practically made out with your lower ones which drew out a slurry “Katsuki~” and whine, which turned him on so much he kept doing so until he slid his thick muscle inside you, his ego inflated in ways he didn’t think could hearing you whine and moan for him, he grew confident, shaking his head back and fourth, in circles softly groaning while the slick mixture of his drool and your arousal. His forearm holding down your thighs to get a wider view of your his pretty pussy.

Who knew he was such a messy eater.

But he stopped, you started crying.

The blonde would first hurt himself before he ever hurts you, especially after giving him the chance to share such an intimate moment . He panicked.

“Katsuki, it’s okay.” You cut off his stammers, his voice was already cracking, you tend to forget how sensitive he really is under that hard exterior. You rose your back up on the headboard and pulled him down, his arms changing you in on the side of you, “I wasn’t in pain. It was the opposite.”

“How, dumbass you fucking—“

“Shut up.” You try to keep a deadpanned face, but the scent of your pussy on his breath made you subtly bite your lip, it was hot. “Well first off you were overstimulating me. Secondly, sometimes we can instinctively cry when something feels good or overwhelming, kinda like when you see people cry during weddings. They’re…happy tears.”

His face was pouted, small beads of sweats trickling down his forehead, and cheeks so warm and squishy you pinch ‘em to get a reaction out of him, “Tch….i knew that.”

“….I was really making you feel good?”

You smile, landing a slow kiss on his slightly thinner ones and tugging his fattier lower lip, you nod, “You made me feel really good. So good I cried. It’s a compliment.”

Bakugo ponded for a few seconds,finally relaxing his body to let you hold him for a moment, your heart beats laid in sync with each other, enjoying the quiet ambiance of his dorm , naked and comfortable.

“Do you still wanna keep going or wanna try again later?”

“Only…only if you want to—-I mean I do obviously, but I don’t wanna make it weird.”

“You couldn’t make it weird if you tried I wanna keep going….i was close.” You fake pouted at him, a crack of the smile came from Bakugo, he sighed in fake annoyance rising up,

“Then lay back,” He says as he pulls you by your thighs so you can lie flat on your back, “this time don’t cover your mouth when I eat you, okay? ….You sound hot.”

“We won’t hear the end of it in class tomorrow…”

“I don’t give a fuck.” His last words were muffed by his lips pressing against your sticky gooey pussy.