#the dominance feels tentative

[f0point5]

Controversial, but does anyone feel like this season is not season-ing yet? Like…on track.

The off track antics have been 20/10 but something about the racing is not as sexy as last year. Or am I crazy?

[yinyuedijun]

translation

Aventurine doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you. (Or: You are the only person in the universe who understands Aventurine in his mother tongue. He often regrets teaching it to you.)

5k words. gender neutral reader, established relationship, angst, non-graphic sex (reader bottoms, anatomy neutral), themes of cultural loss, references to slavery, aventurine’s canonically implied desire to die. MDNI.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

Deception does not come easily to him in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak—and too kind. The universe was a different place in the days when his life was coloured by the warble of Avgin dialect. It felt simpler, partly because he was a child and partly because Sigonia was yet untouched by outsiders. There were no corporations, no casinos, no commodity codes. His entire world was sand, desert, mother, sister, father (or more often—ghost), goddess, tent, wagon, luck, sin, rain, blessing, Avgin.

Katican.

Aventurine is sure that he knew more than just those words. He was fluent as a child. He had conversations with his sister that were complex enough to make his heart hurt, though perhaps his heart was just constantly aching anyway. But the rest of his early words escapes him. He could maybe dredge them up if he thinks long enough, but he also isn't sure if his tongue and lips could form the shape of them anymore. Sometimes he still counts in Avgin, memorises phone numbers in it, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually strung together a full sentence in the language.

When Aventurine was first stolen into slavery (a word that he had not known as a child, and still doesn't know in Avgin), he wasn’t given a Synesthesia Beacon. He had to rely on his ears and his wits, deciphering the harsh edges of the Katican dialect and then the strange garble of Interastral Standard Language. By the time he had a Beacon installed, it was already translating all speech into Standard—his dominant language.

Sometimes he feels a little aggrieved by it, but at least it wasn't Katican. He'd have blown out his brains if it were.

But it is easy to console himself: Avgin is not a useful language anyway. Dead languages have no value, and the Avgin dialect was killed along with its people. You can’t perform commerce in a dead language, can't negotiate contracts, can't enter a gambling den and use your silver tongue to rob people blind. You can't use a dead language to fell governments and extract resources; you can't use a dead language to bring an entire planet to its knees. You can’t use a dead language to gamble your life; you can't use it to save yourself from the gallows.

You cannot deceive people in a language that is defined by sand, sister, goddess, ghost.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin. His command of it is too weak, and there is no one left to which he can lie, anyway.

When you ask Aventurine to teach you his first language, he gives you an amused look.

“Why Avgin?” he asks. “No one speaks it anymore. I can teach you Common Sigonian if you’d like. Or we could learn Xianzhounese together. Maybe Intellitron code? I know a little.”

“You speak Avgin,” you argue.

“Not often,” he says. “And badly when I do.”

“But it's still your language. And I want to understand you.”

Aventurine has to stop himself from laughing. Understand him? He hates being understood. When people understand him, it makes him predictable. And unlikeable. Hardly a position from which he can manipulate people in.

You understand him well enough to know that.

“You'll have to give me a better reason than that,” he says neatly. “Make it worth my while. Reward me.”

You look at him as you ponder, your eyes lingering on his. Perhaps trying to read him, though he prefers to think you're just enjoying the sight of them.

“I’ll teach you my language as well?”

“You mean—you'll reward my hard labour with more work?” he says, lighthearted.

You frown at him despite the joke. “You don't want to understand me better than what a Synesthesia Beacon would allow?” He blinks, pausing. “It’ll be convenient too. We can talk shit about other people in public and no one will understand us.”

Aventurine considers you. He doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.

He also likes the idea of talking shit in public.

“I'm listening,” he says, voice lilting. You lean in, smiling. Sweet. It makes his heart feel something he isn't used to. Something addictive. Something disgusting. He scrambles to cover it with one of the usual tools: humour or distraction or maybe just plain old lying—his most reliable weapon.

“I'll throw in a kiss?” you try.

He hums. “Just one?”

“One per day.”

“Three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Well, I am a businessman.”

You snort, but he knows you're endeared. You have very noticeable tells when you’re flustered.

“Okay,” you say. “Three kisses on days you teach me.”

“Deal.”

Aventurine remembers more Avgin than he thought he would.

It comes to him slowly, painstakingly. You aren't interested in structured lessons, and he wouldn't be able to provide them anyway. He has a nonexistent grasp of grammar aside from this sounds right and that sounds strange, and Avgin dialect is both so niche and so dead that no textbooks are available. The scholars have abandoned the language as much as the politicians abandoned its people. Aventurine only has you, his fragmented memory, and whatever questions come to mind as you live out your days with him.

Mostly, you ask him about basic vocabulary. Sometimes you ask him to repeat sentences from your conversations in Avgin, like he’s some kind of multilingual parrot. Each prompt forces him to wade through the fog in his mind, the one that’s been shrouding his childhood memories until now. He's startled at how naturally the old words roll off his tongue: One, two, three, four. Good morning. Good evening. Good night. Sweet dreams. Five, six, seven, eight. You're lying to me. Why do you always lie to me? I don't know what you're talking about. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Welcome home. Have you eaten? Have some bread. I made you stew. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. That was dangerous. I thought you wouldn't make it back to me. Sometimes I think you want to die. One hundred, one thousand, one million, one billion. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

When you say, How do I ask you to let me hold you, he answers easily. He'd heard the words so often as a child: Let me hold you, Kakavasha. Let Mama hold you. His mouth forms the sounds without conscious thought.

He regrets it almost immediately.

When Aventurine hears it from you—stilted, halting, but no less gentle—he stops breathing. Let me hold you. You say it all the time in Standard, but it feels different in Avgin. More painful. A strange sense of panic closes in on him when he's wrapped up in you, thinking in Avgin, thinking sand, sister, goddess, ghost. He holds you tightly, like the rags cut from his father’s shirt, or his mother’s locket won back from the shell-slashers, or a bag of poker chips beneath a card table, clutched within his trembling grip.

“Aventurine, is something wrong?” you ask in Avgin, and he replies in Standard with his usual smile.

“Hm? No. What could be wrong if I have you here?”

Lying is one of his greatest tools. Sex is another one. So he says, “I think I'd like my reward now,” and he runs his lips along your jaw, your pulse, the spot over your heart (there's a word for that in Avgin but not Standard, he tells you), until you're laughing. I thought you wanted three kisses, you tease, and he replies, Who said I wanted to kiss you on the mouth?

But he coaxes open your thighs, and once he's inside you, he collects his payment properly. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and you swallow his lies whole.

There are some things that Aventurine doesn't teach you. Mostly, they’re things that he can’t teach you.

There are countless gaps in his Avgin. His speech is painfully childish—probably more childish than it was when he actually stopped speaking it. He doesn't know how to swear (something that disappoints you) and he doesn't know how to flirt (something that devastates you). He doesn’t know any words that would be useful for work either: commercialization, governance, stakes, winnings, profit. When you ask him what his job title is in Avgin (“Was senior management even a thing in Avgin society?”), he laughs and gives you the word for gambler.

Then there are the words that he remembers—has remembered his whole life—but never says. Not to you, and not to himself. He doesn't teach you any prayers. He doesn't teach you any blessings. He doesn't teach you about Mama Fenge, or the Kakava Festival, or how the rain fell when he was born. When you ask him, What holidays did you celebrate when you were little? he shrugs and says, We didn't have any. Sigonia’s too bleak to do any partying.

Then you ask him one day, while your bodies are spent in the afterglow of sex, sticky with sweat and sweetness, how to say I love you. And he goes quiet.

Love is a cheap word in Interastral Standard. In the language of globalisation and trade, love has been commercialised, commodified, capitalised for power. You say it to him in many contexts: I love this, I love that, I love you. He hardly ever reacts, and he's never said it back. It would feel unnecessary and also cruel if he did: Aventurine has only ever said the words himself as either a joke or a manipulation.

But love feels different in Avgin than in Interastral Standard, doesn't sound like a thing that can be traded or bought. Kakavasha only ever said the word love to his mother, to his sister, to his father's grave. Love in his mother tongue feels priceless.

When Aventurine thinks about you saying it—I love you, Kakavasha, in clumsy, earnest Avgin—something so painful swells in his throat that he can hardly breathe.

“There is no word for love in my language,” he tells you.

You blink. “Okay, then what's an idiom for it?”

“There is none. There’s no word or phrase expressing love.”

You raise a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Is it?” He smiles. “There’s no Avgin in the known universe who cares about love. Only scheming, thieving, and treachery—and you can't do those things when love is involved.”

You look at him in alarm. “Why are you saying that?” You're practically squirming in your discomfort. “I don't know why you think I'd believe such a racist stereotype.”

“It’s not a stereotype,” he says. “I'm not talking about the Avgin culture. I'm talking about myself.”

After all, he is the only Avgin left.

It is an unfair thing to say. A cruel thing to say. After all the laughing and kissing and crying and fucking, after all the tender eyes and gentle words from you—it is probably the worst pain imaginable: I don't give a shit about you. He waits for you to cry.

But you only stare at him calmly, studying him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, seeing them clearly.

“If you lie to me all the time,” you say in Avgin, “eventually I'll stop believing anything you say.”

Aventurine is speechless. His heart does that addictive, disgusting thing again. He thinks about leaving, but then you say, Let me hold you, and he can't do anything other than obey.

Avgin dialect was once included in the Synesthesia Beacon list of functions. The Intelligentsia Guild added it before the Second Katica-Avgin Extinction Event, when the IPC was trying to get a political foothold on Sigonia via the Avgin people. The language was alive then, with enough value to be included into the Synesthesia LLM by the linguists.

But since the Extinction Event—since Kakavasha ran away from home—the Synesthesia data on Avgin has been stagnant, a fossil. Aventurine knows because he's subscribed to software updates for certain languages (Avgin Sigonian, Common Sigonian, Interastral Standard, and now your mother tongue). He gets pinged every time there's a new addition for slang, for neologisms—but there hasn't been a ping for the Avgin dialect since he had the Beacon installed. The live translation function hasn't even been available since the previous Amber Era. When he checks its page on his Synesthesia app, it's very clear why—

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 0 STATUS: Extinct END OF SERVICE: 2156 AE

The complete death of the language has led to an irritating dilemma for you and Aventurine. You keep running into words that he doesn't know—this time not because of his childlike speech, but because they never existed in his language to begin with. Ocean, tropical, rainforest. Starskiff, accelerator, space fleet. Stock market, shortselling, mutual funds. Black hole, event horizon, spaghettification. All things that never came up for Kakavasha, but now come up for Aventurine, and the language has not evolved to include it.

He always wants to switch to Standard to discuss these things, but you're insistent on speaking in Avgin as much as possible. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't mind humouring you—partly because he likes to indulge you, and partly because he’s grown used to hearing the honeyed timbre of Avgin dialect in your household. The place would feel strange without it.

So you start filling the gaps with other languages, filtering them through the lyricism of Avgin. Loanwords, he thinks they’re called. You take ocean, tropical, rainforest from Amazian; starskiff, accelerator, space fleet from Xianzhounese; stock market, shortselling, mutual funds from Interastral Standard. For the astrophysics terms, you try directly translating them—with limited success.

“Can't I literally just say ‘black hole’?” you ask in Avgin, and he nearly spits out his coffee.

“Please don't. That's a dirty word.” He can't bring himself to say what it means, but from the way you’re laughing, you can clearly guess.

“I thought you said you didn't know how to swear.”

“You've just reminded me how.”

“You're welcome.” You look on the verge of cackling. Aventurine finishes his coffee and wonders when you're going to surprise him with your newfound vulgarity.

“Let's just do the space terms based on Standard,” he says. Begs.

“No, that's so boring.”

“Then let's do your language.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Give him a blank look.

“You don't know how to say those words in your mother tongue either, do you,” he intuits.

“Well, ‘spaghettification’ doesn't really come up in everyday conversation, does it?”

“Then maybe we don't need it.” He smiles, senses an opportunity. Smells blood. “How about ‘love’? I'd much rather know how you say that. I bet it sounds beautiful.”

You give him a long look. Your eyes are vulnerable when you share it: Love. I love you. He’s fascinated by the sound of it. Your voice is never that fragile when you say it in Standard. It's never so earnest. He repeats it, staring at you, and your gaze falls to the ground. His mouth curls.

“I like it,” he says. “Let's use that. It'll sound nice in Avgin.”

You try to recover. “Sure. That works. But back to ‘black hole’—”

And the two of you continue like that for days, weeks, months. It feels like a complete bastardization of his mother tongue on some days, in some conversations. Almost unrecognisable. But it doesn't feel bad. It’s all he has, it's all you have, and when he walks into your home, he starts speaking it without thinking: your bastard, patchwork language. The Avgin dialect that exists only in your house. A tongue that can only be understood by a liar.

And then, one lazy Sunday morning, he gets a familiar ping. He expects it to be Interastral Standard, as usual. The language balloons with each planet that the IPC colonises.

But instead, he opens his screen and freezes.

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 2 STATUS: Endangered. SERVICE RESUMED: 2157 AE NEW UPDATES: 103 loanwords and 5 neologisms added.

He can't stop looking at the status. Endangered. Endangered, which means dying, but alive. The Avgin dialect is alive again. The Intelligentsia Guild determined it, so it must be true. But Aventurine can't agree: there are no Avgin speakers in the known universe other than the two of you, and what you speak isn't real Avgin. The Avgin spoken by his mother and father and sister is dead; the Avgin spoken by Kakavasha is dead. The festivals are gone; the deserts have been terraformed. There are no wagons; there are no dances; there are no prayers. There are no blessings, and he has no home—

As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.

His throat locks up.

“Aventurine?” you ask. Your voice is drowsy, but concerned. “Is something wrong?”

He looks at you from his phone, a polished smile on his face.

“No.” His syllables are plain and efficient in the noise of Interastral Standard: “Just looking at details for a new assignment. It’ll be a long one.”

“Oh.” You frown. “Will you be away from home for a long time, then?”

He stops himself from swallowing. “Yes, I'll be away from the house. For several months, probably.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small. “Take care of yourself, okay? I'll miss you.”

Each word you speak resonates with heartbreak. It always does in these conversations, even in Standard—but the sorrow is amplified in Avgin. His mother tongue has an inherently sad quality to it, he's noticed. His people have lost so much over their history—their language is one of loss. It's his language of loss. Kakavasha did all his grieving in Avgin; Aventurine has never felt sorrow in Standard. When the language died, so did Kakavasha—and all his regrets with it.

“You'll come home to me, right?” you ask. It's a beautiful sentence in Avgin. A heartrending one. He feels something that he hasn't known since he was a child.

It's a feeling he has to kill.

“Yes,” he says in Standard. “Of course I'll come back.”

This is not the first time that Aventurine has been mistaken for dead, but this is the longest time.

The latest world to join the IPC network was a tough acquisition. It had been ruled by a despot who wreaked havoc on both the people and the planet, and who was too stupid and reckless to resolve conflicts with his trade partners. He probably would have blown up the whole star system had he been left to his own devices. Aventurine had no qualms about bringing him to ruin, nor did he have qualms about nearly dying in the process.

If things had gone his way, he'd either be dead or missing. This would have been the perfect opportunity to do the latter, actually—to be freed from the IPC. Free to drift alone, speaking with strangers in strange, unfamiliar tongues. No connection to his past, to the cruel history of his luck, to his commodity code. No tether to his inherently unjust destiny. But instead he's back in your house, pockets heavy with his borrowed wealth, speaking to you in his bastardised, childish Avgin. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Your Avgin is—shockingly fluent. He doesn't know how. He can't think about it right now. All he can process is the wounded animal noise of your speech as you yell at him, as you cry. Like an injured songbird, or a weeping child. Why did you leave, why did you lie, why do you always lie to me, why don't you give a shit about me, you spit. Why do you want to die, why do you want to die, why do you want to die, you keep saying. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost, he keeps hearing. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost. Don't leave me, big sister. People will die. Why do you have to go?

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, this time in your language. “I'm so sorry. Come here. Let me hold you.”

You collapse into your mother tongue. Aventurine is both relieved and horrified. Relieved that he doesn't need to hear the language of his grief—horrified that he needs to hear yours. He's never heard you cry like this. He's never heard you break like this. These must have been the words you used when the soldiers found you hiding in your closet, when they dragged you out of your home. You were just a child.

Aventurine doesn't know the words you are using—you've never taught them—but he still understands them.

You're very malleable when you’re sad; even more so when you're hysterical. Aventurine understands this about you, and he understands how to calm you—this time in your native tongue—and he understands how to kiss you. He understands that you need to feel close to him. He understands that there are ways to accomplish this other than sex. A normal person would talk it out, have an honest conversation, come to a mutual understanding, and maybe even stop trying to kill himself. They wouldn't fuck you into the mattress while your face is still wet with tears.

But Aventurine is not a normal person. He doesn't know how to have an honest conversation, and he doesn't want to be understood. Lying is his greatest weapon, and sex is a close second. So he kisses you until you’re too breathless to cry, fucks you until you can't think, and makes you come so hard that you’re in too much bliss to grieve. And maybe it's horrible of him, but he enjoys it. He enjoys the way your body takes him in so easily, the way your nails dig into his back, the way you tighten around him when you climax, so wet and needy for him. The way you beg for him in your language for liars as he spends himself inside you: I love you, Aventurine, I love you, I love you, I love you—

Only because it feels good. This is all only because he enjoys fucking you. This is all only because you enjoy fucking him. This is all it'll ever be, and it'll be this way until he gets to meet his end.

(Some months ago, Aventurine started dreaming in Avgin.

It surprised him when he first noticed it. The last time he remembers having a dream in his native tongue, he was twelve years old and still in chains. And even then, it had become a sporadic, strange thing. Awful to wake up from. One minute he was with his mother and sister on a cool, rainy day, speaking fluently in Avgin as he laughed and played—and the next minute, he was being shaken awake in his cage, hearing the cruel lash of Katican.

But ever since he's started speaking Avgin with you, he's been dreaming in it. Vividly. Sometimes he's a child in these dreams, and sometimes he's grown. He's always back in the Sigonian desert, among the tents and the campfires and his family wagons. His mother and sister are alive. Sometimes his father is too. The skies roar with thunder and the stellar winds are always harsh, but they always keep him cocooned up in their arms. He's always warm.

Sometimes Aventurine dreams of nicer days. Clear skies, warm sun, cool breeze—all blessings from the Mother Goddess. On these days, he tends to be an adult, and you tend to be there with him. Your Avgin is fluent but strange, filled with funny loanwords and peculiar slang. His father likes the neologisms and starts using them—but only in wrong ways. His sister finds it embarrassing and keeps apologising to you.

His mother loves you. She loves you so much it hurts. This is how I know you're blessed, Kakavasha, she says, glowing. You’re so lucky to have found such a kind person.

Kakavasha knows this. He knows he's lucky, and in his dreams, that isn't a bad thing. In his dreams, his luck means that his home is not violently excised from his heart: his father never dies; his mother never dies; his sister never dies. The tents are not burned; the wagons are not destroyed. He is never forced to forget his people's dishes, their songs, their language, their joy. And in his dreams, his luck means that he meets you anyway, without all the loss and the chains and the lying.

In his dreams, he is able to bring you to the desert. He is able to teach you the Avgin he spoke as a child, to cook all the meals his mother used to make, to share with you their coffee and their tea. He teaches you prayers. He teaches you blessings. He tells you about Mama Fenge, about how the rain fell when he was born. He takes you to the Kakava Festival, shows you how to dance, sings to you all the Avgin songs until you're singing back. He presses his palm to yours in prayer; he kisses you in devotion, not avoidance.

Sometimes the two of you still fight, the same fights that you have in real life, but he handles them with honesty. He listens to you. He apologises to you. He tells you that he’ll change, and he means it—because this world is a kind one, and he has no need to be so cruel to you.

In this kind world, when you lay in bed with his arms tight around you, you smile at him and say, I love you, Kakavasha. You say it in Avgin—real Avgin, not the dialect born from genocide and deceit—and when he responds, there's not even a little bit of insincerity in his voice. Because Kakavasha never became Aventurine in these dreams, so he has no Interastral Standard in which he can lie to you, no silver tongue with which he can manipulate you, no commodity code that inspires his fear of being controlled by you. Kakavasha only knows Avgin, and he only has his sand, his family, his goddess, his home.

And he has you. Finally, he has you.

He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and then he tells you the truth.)

.

.

.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

You noticed this very early on: whenever he lies to you, he always switches to Interastral Standard. Probably he wouldn't be able to do it in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak, and the words he knows are all too kind. He speaks with the innocence of a child, and children cannot deceive people in the way that adults can. Children cannot perform commerce or negotiate contracts. They cannot use a silver tongue to rob people blind. They cannot save themselves from the gallows.

So Aventurine’s Avgin is defenceless. Vulnerable. So vulnerable it hurts. You are not so vulnerable in your first language because your captors spoke it on occasion, and you learned to lie in it to gain their pity. You told Aventurine that knowing it would help him understand you, but this was a deception. Aventurine’s mother tongue was a language of trust, but yours is a dialect of abuse.

The Avgin language died before Aventurine could be gutted by it; this is why it disarms him so completely. This is why he’s so indulgent and so warm when you use it with him, why he yields to all your requests. Not requests for money or gifts—you’re certain those are meaningless to him—but for affection. Let me hold you. Let me touch you. Let me kiss you. He can never say no.

This is also why he loves hearing you speak his mother tongue, you think—it makes him feel at home, it makes him feel safe. Maybe it even makes him feel loved. He never seems so at peace speaking any other language, so you try to use Avgin as much as possible. You like seeing him happy. You like it even if it means you need to teach him your own native language in exchange, even when it means you need to hear him say all the things your captors used to say. You don't mind it if it's him. You never mind the harm he inflicts on you, especially not when it brings you closer to him.

It is convenient that he cannot lie in Avgin. You only wanted to learn it in the first place because he talks in his sleep—mostly in Standard, but sometimes in his native tongue. And now that you know he cannot lie in Avgin, you also know he's always being honest in his dreams. Honest when he throws his arms around you in his sleep. Honest when he grabs you so tightly that you bruise. Honest when he buries his face into your neck and whispers prayers into your skin.

Most of the words he says are common ones, the earliest vocabulary that he taught you. But there are some things he's withheld from you—and to learn those things, you had to track down linguists from the Intelligentsia Guild, bribe them with your dirty money, have them give you all their deprecated, extinct data. It felt two-faced, and it was violating, but it was the only way. You already know that Aventurine would rather die than translate his feelings for you, would never want this part of himself understood.

I'm sorry for always leaving you.

I'm sorry for making you cry.

I can't bear the thought of losing you.

Freedom would be too lonely without you.

I don't want to hurt you anymore.

I don't want to lie to you anymore.

I missed you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

end

afterword

[siraj2024]

very important‼️🥺

Siraj's family is between disappointment and hope

When the hope of returning home evaporates, and you become displaced and displaced without housing, for an open term, and without a date for the end of the tragedy, you feel that all your energy has been exhausted, and terrifying nightmares begin to dominate your mind.😔

I worked long hours and borrowed a lot to complete the house, and I am not happy with it yet. Now all I have is the tent, in which I will remain until an unknown date. I have lost the house that could have protected us from the humiliation of homelessness and misery in the ruins of Gaza if life had been given to us.😢

My children are living in a state of despair and loss, with no education or recreational games, and how difficult it is to stand in front of them when you are unable to provide them with food, drink, and housing.😭

Some pictures of the effects of the house's destruction

The tent we currently live in is a convection oven

This is the place where we prepare our food. It has a clay oven and needs wood daily.

My young son, Muhammad, is tired of frightening, polluted water in which diseases and epidemics spread, but there is no alternative to that

My goal now is to rebuild the house, and I am very far from the goal that has become a big dream for me. I ask you for your help, participation, and serious attention. How difficult it is to become homeless indefinitely.💔

20$ can make a difference

My campaign is documented by Nabulsi✅

[evie-sturns]

all night long - Matt Sturniolo

summary: when you start getting needy for more during a makeout session with matt, he gives you more.. too much more.

contains: rough sex, overstimulation, making out, faux sympathy, face fucking, dom!matt (everything he does is consensual)

‘🎵imma make you scream, all night long🎵’

————————————-🎀————————————

i shift on matt’s lap, my hands intertwined in his silky hair as i let out desperate moans into his mouth.

tonight went from matt and i baking, to us making out messily in his room. we haven’t seen each-other in over a month, so this was definitely needed.

his soft lips press against mine harshly as his tongue fights for dominance in my mouth, his large ringed hands find their way down to my hips,

he grins me against his clothed bulge, he pulls away from the kiss for a second,

“you see what your doing to me?” he pants, his eyes travelling down to the obvious tent in his boxers.

“i need you- so bad matt.” i breathe, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

he peels my hands away, placing them back on my lap.

matt collides our lips together again, his hands travelling to the back of my hair.

i whine into his rosy lips, rubbing myself against his jeans.

“i want you so badly- please.” i almost beg matt, speaking against his lips.

“yeah? what exactly do you want?” he taunts with a small smirk on his face.

“you!” i say frustratedly, reaching down and palming him through his jeans.

he looks at me, his head cocked to the side. “i think i’m gonna need some more detail,” he sighs, pretending he doesn’t know what i’m saying.

i hesitate for a second before speaking “i want your dick matt- ‘want you to fill me up.” i practically whisper, avoiding eye contact with matt.

he still has that stupid smirk on his face, his cheeks a dark hue of pink.

“there we are, wasn’t so hard?” he smiles, shifting me off his lap

he stands up out of bed, his hands finding their way to my shoulders.

he flips me over on my stomach, before dragging me to the edge of the bed by my ankles.

my skirt rides up my thighs from the friction of him pulling me across the matress.

he flips my skirt up, revealing my lacy panties. i would’ve put on some sort of lingerie if i knew this was going to be the outcome of matt and i’s baking session.

he doesn’t waste time to pull off my panties, ripping them down the plush of my thighs.

“spread your legs apart f’me.” he demands, his tone lower than earlier.

i spread my legs apart, my face pressed into the sheets as i feel matt’s hands run across my ass from behind me.

“did you touch yourself in the month i was away?” he asks, his hands trailing over my lower back.

i shake my head, burying my face into the matress.

“why not?” he asks, moving his hand down to my entrance.

“didnt- didn’t feel good.” i breathe out,

“yeah?” he says, dipping his long middle finger inside of me.

i gasp, the last time that had sex was with matt right before he left for his trip, i’m not used to anything being inside of me right now.

he doesn’t waste time to add a second finger, i whine loudly.

“god, you’re ‘fuckin tight.” matt says quietly, pumping his fingers in, and out of me.

“i- i cant-“ i protest as he pushes his fingers faster, with each thrust he speeds up significantly.

“you can’t? weren’t you just begging for this?” he replies,

i squirm on the mattress, all of my moans being muffled by the blankets on matt’s bed.

i clench around his fingers, causing him to quickly pull them out of me,

“i didn’t tell you to do that.” he states,

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry-“ i repeat myself,

he grabs my waist and flips me over onto my back.

my skirt is still pushed up, he reaches over and scoops me up under my arms, lifting me onto my feet.

my legs wobble slightly,

he points to the floor, instructing me to sit.

i kneel down on the cold wood planks of his floor, my knees digging into the ground.

he stands infront of me, his clothed bulge right by my face.

he looks down at me, waiting for me to do something.

i hesitate before reaching for his belt buckle. fiddling with it before sliding it out of his belt loops.

it falls to the floor with a loud clank.

i unbutton his jeans, letting them drop to his ankles.

finally i tug down his boxers, he’s already fully hard.

“gonna let me use that pretty mouth, won’t you?” he says, wrapping his hand around his base and positioning his tip at my lips.

he rubs his tip over my closed lips, his precum spreading across my mouth.

i nod,

“go on then, open your mouth.” he speaks,

i slowly part my lips, matt quickly pushes his length into my mouth, inch by inch.

i squeeze my eyes shut as i take more of him, feeling his veins against my tongue.

matt’s hand finds its way to the back of my hair, twirling it into a makeshift ponytail.

“gonna take it all?” matt asks, followed by a strangled whimper from him.

i whine around his dick, he pulls out of my mouth just to the tip, giving me time to breathe before forcing his length down my throat.

i reach up and grip the back of his thighs as he quickly pulls out again, followed by him thrusting back inside my mouth.

“oh my god..” he groans, i look up at him through my lashes,

he watches his cock thrust in and out of my mouth, i don’t try to protest it because of how many moans are falling from matt’s lips.

my mascara runs down my cheeks as matt’s leg starts to subtly shake.

i run my nails up the back of his thighs, which seems to tip him over the edge completely.

he finishes with a loud groan, his head tipping back as his release fills my mouth.

he quickly pulls out of my mouth, “swallow it.” he says through deep breaths.

i squeeze my eyes shut before swallowing his load,

“there we are.” he says, picking me up off my knees and throwing me onto the bed.

i squeal as i hit the matress, matt lets out a low chuckle before flipping me over onto my back.

he wraps his hands around my ankles and tugs me to the edge of the bed. matt pushes my legs back so i’m fully revealed for him.

“did so good.” he mumbles, pushing my knees close to my stomach.

he wraps his hand around his base, positioning himself at my entrance.

he scans over my face as he pushes inside of me,

my mouth falls open, matt’s definitely not going slow.

he buries his cock inside of me, his tip kissing my cervix.

“matt-“ i whine, he gives me no time to adjust before he’s thrusting full force inside of me.

he keeps a firm grip on the back of my knees as he repeatedly fucks into me.

“god look at you.” he scoffs,

i have mascara running down my face, my hair is messy and spread across the mattress as i let matt completely use me.

his pace quickens with each thrust,

“too fast- too much” i babble out, which matt pays no mind to.

his hair flops on his forehead with each thrust, his blue eyes fixed on where his length disappears in my pussy.

he repeatedly hits my g-spot with the angle he has me on,

my mind goes completely blank as i arch my back off the bed,

with a loud scream of matt’s name i clench around him, my stomach releasing.

my legs shake in his grip as i finish,

matt doesn’t stop.

he continues to push into my sensitive core, i squirm on the matress as he overstimulates me.

“gonna let me finish inside you?” he breathes out through small groans.

i nod frantically, “that’s my good girl.” matt reply’s, his voice hoarse and shaking

he thrusts deeply inside of me once more before finishing inside of me,

he fucks into me a couple more times, burying his release inside of me.

my head flops back against the matress, my stomach spasming.

matt pulls out of me slowly,

i go to reach for him, but he pins my hand back down onto the matress,

“you thought we were done?” he asks,

shortly after he flips me over onto all fours, i shake my head,

“oh poor thing.” he sighs, his two hands finds their way to my hips and tugging me back towards him.

my ass rests on his pelvis as i breathe heavily

“cant take more than one orgasm, that’s pathetic.” he breathes,

“i can-!” i protest,

“can you?” he reply’s,

his tip drags through my sensitive folds,

“yes- i promise-“ i whine,

he pushes his tip inside of me, his hand resting on my lower back to make me arch more.

he fucks his tip inside of me,

my eyebrows knit together as my mouth falls open.

without warning he pushes his whole length inside of me, instantly starting to pound into me.

i let out a squeal as i grab a pillow from beside me,

i bury my face into the pillow, muffling my screams.

matt’s never fucked me like this before, i don’t know if it’s because we’ve been seperated for a month, or whatever it is, but he’s going rough.

his dick slams into me repeatedly, his tip bruising my cervix over and over.

he’s hitting insanley deep spots in me, making my mind go blank.

“matt!!” i scream into the pillow, the sound of our skin colliding fills the room.

“i can’t! i can’t!” i follow up,

“i thought you could? didn’t you promise?” he asks from behind me, his hand gripping my hip.

“i- i lied!” i reply back instantly.

“i don’t like liars.” he says, pushing on my back, making it arch even more.

“i’m sorry!” i yell into the pillow,

“are you?” he says shakily, leaning foward and resting his hands on either side of my head.

his chest presses against my back as i feel his rapid breathes on the back of my neck.

i let out uncontrollable noises which are now, muffled.

without warning i clench around him again, the knot in my stomach snapping.

“i didn’t tell you to do that.” he says from behind me.

-

10 minutes later matt is still thrusting into me, pulling more and more orgasms out of me.

“i can’t-“ my voice wobbles as i lift my head from the pillow.

he grips the sheets beside me before finally finishing, burying his seed inside of me.

he pulls out of me with a slick pop, then collapsing next to me on the bed.

i fall foward onto my face, my legs shaking.

i can barely see, nor think.

he tugs me into him, wrapping his tattooed arms around me.

“jesus fuck-“ he sighs into my messy hair.

“are you okay?” he asks, stroking my arm.

i nod, matt sits me up on the matress.

he grips my hands and stands me up, my legs instantly wobble and i stumble over.

“oh-“ he almost laughs, picking me up.

“that was.. insanity.” i finally speak, earning a small laugh from matt,

“i’m sorry gorgeous.” he sighs,

“you promise you okay? are you hurting?” matt asks, walking us into the bathroom.

he sets me down on the toilet, his cum leaking down my thighs.

“i’m okay- oh my god.” my voice shakes as i smile at matt.

he bends down and grabs a towel before dabbing the insides of my thigh with it.

he brushes it over my entrance, i wince.

“i know- i’m sorry.” he sighs, wiping me clean quickly.

he grabs my hand and pulls me up onto my feet, i instantly fall into him.

“you seriously can’t stand?!” he laughs,

“matt what do you think!”

-

@jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathando-64 esgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r r r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall l l @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnn n @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney y @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees enxtrees @certifiednatelover r r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t t t @yomamaslays4lyfe e @peachmelbaesunpostre @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 9 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz z 0 @ratatioulle @sturnsforlife v @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos @downbad4reid

[amourrs]

sub!ellie who’s addicted to the way you taste. never mind that you’re the more dominant one, because the power is still hers— she’s functionally turned you into a pillow princess with the way she drags your lace underwear down the plush skin of your thighs every time, bite marks indented and ridged into the soft skin as she cruises her tongue across the honeyed junction between your thigh and your hip before you push her head down, rough pad of her tongue circling your clit as you throw your head back and whine at the sensation. it’s not just the knowledge she’s making you feel good that gets her off, it’s the carding of your fingers through her hair, how the pads of them twirl around at her nape and tug until her vision clouds with sweet headiness at the twinge. it’s the way she can stay down there forever— like tonight, where she’s clamping her hands down to hold your thighs in place after your third orgasm. a salty tear traverses a path down the bridge of your nose and ellie takes a second to raise her face to your own, tongue darting out to lick it off you. a mumble of “such a good girl, love you,” escapes you and it’s got her grinding into the mattress as she ducks her head back down, resting the silken dome on your quivering thigh as she slides two fingers into you. a choked sob escapes your throat as she crooks them towards her— “el, fuck, don’t think i can do any more for you, baby, m’sorry—” but she shakes her head resolutely at your protests. “know you can— you always say i can, right? s’gonna feel sooo good, promise.” the fingers of her other hand come up to twine with yours, rubbing soothingly over your knuckles the same way your palm brushes her face to comfort her when you give her the same treatment, lips pressing sweet kisses over your hipbone until they trail their way back to your clit. you cry out at the sensation of her tongue working in tandem with her slender fingers, thighs tightening in a vice-like grip around her neck as you wind your spare hand into the tangled mane of her hair, catching on knots she doesn’t seem to notice as she continues her mission as if unhindered. it’s only when you’re completely spent and your palm pushes clamming at her forehead that you can finally untense your muscles, allowing blood to flow more freely as you loosen up, head slack on the pillow as ellie winds herself around you, soft kiss pressed to your cheek. “you were so—” she begins, tone teasing and cloying as you snap a glare in her direction. “watch it. or next time something’s getting fucked, it’ll be your ass.” the copper-haired menace recoils at once, hands clasped over the flesh of her backside as she finds her way to the bathroom to run you a hot bath— although you don’t miss the tentative look she throws your way as she takes her fingers away from her body to turn on the tap, the way they linger on her skin for a second as if wondering what the sensation would feel like, how her gaze fills with a rampant curiosity— until she catches you looking and abruptly turns away, busying herself with the bath salts. interesting. you file it away for next time with a grin. “babe! don’t forget the ass— i mean essential oils,” you call, taking delight in the resultant strawberry-red blush of ellie’s cheeks as she reaches to grab them from a higher shelf. next time, indeed.

[malereadermaniac]

Gym ~ Holland!Peter Parker x Male Reader

Top!Peter x Bottom!Reader cw: Working out n sweat, body worship, Bottom reader & top Peter, hand kink (kinda), underwear n sock stuff word count: 1.3k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Holland!Peter who likes to have you 'help' him as he works out in your home-gym. You motivate the hero throughout his workouts, laying under him as he does push-ups; rewarding your muscular boyfriend with a short n sweet kiss every time he lowers himself

Holland!Peter who uses you instead of weights whenever he can, especially when doing hip-thrusts. The handsome man having you sit on his hips, your ass literally on Peter's clothed crotch, as he grunts and groans with every raise of his hips - his dick obviously hardening underneath you with every thrust. The brunette's rough, veiny hand on your hip so firmly, keeping you in place as his other masculine hand rests in its rightful place on your thigh

Holland!Peter loving how evidently flustered you get when he works out with you, even though you try to hide the blush on your face behind your sassy/sarcastic facade. The hero knows you, like the back of his hand, so he not only tries to get his own weird pleasure out you 'helping' him but also to tease you from time to time; and he achieves this every time... It's not like it's hard, Peter knows what gets you going and uses it to his advantage, like keeping you below him and letting his sweat drip onto you, or keeping a firm grip on you, just to remind you of how fucking strong he actually is

Holland!Peter who always gets frisky during his workouts. Hey! Endorphins pair really fuckin' well with dopamine from having sex with the guy he fucking adores (you!). The hero's dick gets fully erect barely halfway through his session most of the time, resulting in Peter dropping subtle hints at you helping him out. Subtle as in wolf-whistling you when you bend over or smirking down at the tent in his sweatpants to get your attention.

Holland!Peter who fucking loves to have you suck him off while he lifts weights. He'll be doing bicep curls above you as you're on your knees in front of the brunette, absolutely going ham on his thick dick. His sweaty, hot balls and dick smell of his manly musk as you kiss and lick his shaft and sack, making the man above you groan as he sweats from exercise and being horny. Shit really hits the fan when your fully sucking Peter off; sloppily deepthroating his thick, veiny cock as his thick bush of sweaty pubes stuff your nose with his intoxicating scent. It turns you on so much to watch the man workout above you, watching his sweat roll down his abs and down his v-line as you pleasure him oh so nicely, his moans echoing in your gym along with grunts of your name.

Holland!Peter who loves it when you worship and praise his body after a workout, his glistening muscles lookin' so attractive as the hero sits on a changing bench and sprawls out his body (because yes, you two decided to also install a changing room for your private gym, and yes it was mainly to have sex in). Peter's dick will re-harden instantly as you kiss his collarbone, lick his sweaty pecks and kiss down his abs and all the way down to his sweaty feet. Your praises of how his body is "incredible" and "godly" and "sexy" really stroking his ego, getting his hormones raring.

Holland!Peter loving the way you look below him, kissing at his feet, making direct eye-contact as you submit to him; he's not the type to be dominant, but FUCK does he feel so horny when you go out of your way to to please him. He always offers his hand out to you, knowing how feral you go for his veiny, rough hands which have saved hundreds of lives. Peter's dick twitches like crazy as he watches you suck his fingers off as if they were his cock, his eyes unable to leave you as you work your tongue sloppily around his sexy fingers, looking into his eyes as your spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth and your chin.

Holland!Peter making you with you desperately and sloppily as you sit on his lap, your sweaty ass sticking to his thick, tired thighs. The feeling of your boyfriend's masculine hands spreading your cheeks never gets old, his fingers cutely prodding at your tight entrance in a curious and impatient manner; Peter always wanting to feel more of you, pleasure you and himself as quickly as possible.

Holland!Peter who fucking loves to watch you do your best to take his big, thick cock - positioning his dick to your entrance and slowly sinking down on your boyfriend's shaft. The brunette gets butterflies in his stomach at the sight of you putting in so much effort to get him inside of you, your face contorting in pain and pleasure just hittin' that spot for Peter so damn well

Holland!Peter who just can't help himself, he tries to give you as much time as he can to adjust to his girth, but you're just too perfect - your walls so warm and tight around Peter, your body fitting together with his like a puzzle, your panting face above him, it all just results in the brunette starting to thrust up into you without even thinking about it! But god does it feel so fucking good, your loud cries and moans of his name and "too big", "too much", and "fuck" turning your boyfriend on to the max, his desperation to pleasure himself and you giving him the confidence to take the lead and fuck you in whatever way he wants

Holland!Peter who gets off to seeing you desperately struggle yet fail to moan out his name due to his dirty, sweaty socks or underwear stuffing your mouth and acting as a gag. The brunette's dick twitching against your tight, warm walls as he drills in your prostate, watching as you squirm against his lap and become overwhelmed by his salty taste in your mouth and his musky scent in your nose - the entire changing room now smelling of both your sweat and his, along with the filthy smell of sex and fluids. Peter's hands feel correct on your hips, holding you tightly as the hero forces you up and down on his cock, his moans of your name making your dick twitch with ever jab at your prostate

Holland!Peter who can't hold himself back for too long, his body jolting forwards and enveloping your body with his sweaty, muscular one, his arms around your waist and his teeth in your shoulder as he breaths in your scent and groans into your shoulder; shooting his thick load deep inside of you. His sweaty garments would fall out of your mouth finally, allowing you to moan and whine as your own dick shoots ropes of white cum onto both your stomach and Peter's, your prostate being milked by your boyfriend's thick dick. Your nails claw down the hero's back, your toes curling in pleasure as you bask in the afterglow, inhaling your strong boyfriend's smell as he does the same as he kisses the marks he had left on your body during your passionate little moment.

Holland!Peter who just wants to rest with you a little. He doesn't care that his dick is still inside of you, or that his cum is slowly dripping out of your hole. The brunette just wants to hold you near, feel you as he kisses your body as little 'thank you's' for being so good to him. Of course, after a few enjoyable moments together, Peter remembers how horribly uncomfortable you must be and gets the two of you into a shower - cleaning you up and out, washing your hair for you and massaging your scalp as you get drowsy from the steam and the cardio. Fuck he treats you so damn well...

[moonstruckme]

a thought:

reader is literally so grouchy and bratty and tired and is accidentally snapping at (whoever u want) and thennn they take initiative to casual dominance her to take a nap after some tea and it’s just so crazy fluffy!!!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: d/s dynamics

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 708 words

You’d claimed to want to read with Remus on the couch, but you keep huffing like your book is your least favorite thing in the world. Remus wraps a hand around your thigh, rubbing a slow back and forth with his thumb in an attempt to pacify you. He knows precisely what this mood is about. 

“Ugh, this construction noise is the worst!” You glare out the window as if hoping the men across the street will see. 

“Why don’t you use my headphones and try to have a nap, dove,” Remus suggests mildly. “You didn’t get much sleep last night, sounds like it’s catching up to you.” 

You bristle at the implication. “I’m not tired, I’m just sick of this. Nobody asked for the road to be redone. It was perfectly fine before.” 

Remus shoots you a sideways look. The road outside your house was riddled with potholes, and you both know it. If you were in a better mood, you’d be baking cookies for the construction workers to thank them. 

You ignore it, huffing again. “I’m gonna get some dinner,” you say, setting your book down roughly as you stand. 

“Last night’s leftovers are in the fridge.” 

“Don’t feel like those.” 

Remus gives your bum a light swat through your sweatpants as you go by. “Eat something real,” he warns. 

You make a vexed harrumphing sound. He chooses not to hear it. 

What he does hear, less than a minute later, is popcorn popping in the microwave. Remus sighs through his nose, tenting his book on the coffee table and pursuing you into the kitchen. You don’t turn around as his footsteps approach. 

“Dove.” Remus takes your hips, turning you manually. “That’s not a real dinner.” 

You shrug, obstinate. Your stare looks like you’re itching for a fight. “It’s what I feel like.” 

“You haven’t had anything with a vegetable in it all day. You need to pick something else.” 

You roll your eyes, turning back around. Ignoring him. Remus hits the button to shut off the microwave. 

You spin back around, eyes flashing. “You can’t—” 

“That’s enough.” He takes your jaw in his hand, your chin resting at the apex of his thumb and forefinger. “You’re being a brat,” he says in a low, steady voice, “because you’re sleepy and probably because you haven’t eaten a real meal since yesterday. That stops now. You’re going to eat the dinner you made yesterday, which you liked, and then go have a nap. Understand?” 

Remus isn’t really irritated with you. You’re being unruly, sure, but these moods always end once you get what you’re looking for from him. Now he’s given you it, you’ll calm down. 

It’s fucking precious, the way your temper melts away under his hard gaze. Your eyes round out and your head sits heavier in his hand, remorse finding its way into your expression. 

“Sorry,” you say, tone about ten degrees milder than it had just been. 

Remus rolls his eyes at you, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. “I know, darling. You can still make it up to me. Heat up those leftovers, okay?” 

You hum, and he lets you go, kissing the hill of your cheek. 

A minute later, you join him in the living room, curling up next to him on the couch while you eat and he reads. Your posture is already less rigid, the both of you enveloped in companionable silence and the smell of warm food. Your fork clinks as you set your plate down on the coffee table, and when you don’t get up to go to bed, Remus looks over at you. Your eyes are already on him, a question in them.

He fights to repress the smile that curves his lips. “What?” 

“Can I sleep here?” you ask hopefully. “Would it distract you if I put my head on your lap?” 

Remus coos. “No, sweetheart, of course you can.” 

“Are you sure?” you ask, though you’re already lying down, him uncrossing his legs to make his lap more comfortable for you. “You’re not still mad at me?” 

He tsks, petting your hair while you get comfortable. “I’m not. Wanna know a secret?” 

You hum, eyes already closing. 

“I’m never really mad at you, dove.”

[driverlando]

✧.* GOOD GIRL

synopsis- Charles fucks you infront of a mirror and calls you good girl which has an effect on you (Charles leclerc x f!reader)

before you read- smut warning, minors dni!! If you like it, please reblog and follow! I’m new here and would appreciate the support. Thanks! :)

The bedroom was cast in the soft glow of candlelight, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. You and Charles had always shared an intense passion, but tonight, there was a different kind of energy between you—a raw, untamed desire that crackled in the air like a live wire.

Charles stood behind you, his strong hands gripping your hips as you bent forward, your palms pressed against the cool surface of the dresser. The large mirror in front of you reflected the scene, giving you a clear view of your entwined bodies. Your eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, your lips parted in a silent moan as Charles thrust into you with a rhythm that was both relentless and perfectly controlled.

His movements were powerful, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. You felt yourself growing closer and closer to the edge, every nerve ending alight with sensation. Charles’s grip tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pounded into you with increasing intensity.

“Tu es si belle,” (you are so beautiful) he murmured, his voice dripping with lust as he watched you in the mirror. “Regarde-toi. Regarde ce que tu me fais.” (Look at yourself. Look at what you're doing to me)

Your breath hitched at his words, the eroticism of the moment heightened by his intense gaze. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the reflection, the sight of Charles dominating you, your bodies moving in perfect synchronicity. Sweat aligned his muscular body, his chest red from the thrusting and pleasure, his hair falling into his forehead. It was like a scene straight out of a porno and it had you whimpering softly.

Suddenly, he delivered a sharp slap to your ass, the sound echoing through the room and sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. You cried out, your body arching in response to the delicious sting. Charles’s hand then tangled in your hair, pulling your head back so you could see his reflection in the mirror.

You whined in protest when he paused, your body aching for more. “Push yourself back on me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Your eyes widened in the mirror, your expression one of confusion and desire. “What?” you panted, your breath coming in short gasps.

“Push yourself back on me,” Charles repeated, his grip on your hair tightening slightly.

Tentatively, you began to move, pushing your hips back against him. The sensation was different, but incredibly arousing. You watched yourself in the mirror, your movements becoming more confident as you followed his instruction.

“Yeah… just like that… good girl,” Charles praised, his voice filled with approval.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, your body responding with a newfound eagerness. You pushed back against him with more force, your eyes locked on his in the mirror. There was something intoxicating about the way he watched you, his gaze filled with a mix of lust and admiration.

“Like this?” you asked breathlessly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Charles’s eyes darkened with desire as he watched you. “Yeah, just like that… good girl,” he repeated, his voice shaky with need.

The praise seemed to ignite something within you, and you found yourself moving with more urgency, more desperation. Each time he called you a good girl, you felt a rush of pleasure that made you push back harder, seeking more of the sweet agony.

Charles noticed the effect his words had on you, a smug smile playing on his lips. He began to call you that more frequently, his voice a constant murmur of encouragement and praise. “Good girl… you’re doing so well… keep going…Mon amour”

Your body was on fire, every nerve ending ablaze with sensation. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of release, the intensity of your coupling pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

With one final, powerful thrust, Charles sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You cried out, your voice echoing through the room as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Charles followed you into the abyss, his own release tearing through him as he held you close, your bodies locked together in a moment of perfect unity. You collapsed onto the nearby bed, your limbs entwined, hearts pounding in sync.

Breathless and sated, you lay together in a tangle of limbs, the room filled with the heady scent of your passion. Your head rested on Charles’s chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing soothing you.

“You’re amazing,” Charles mumbled into your hair, his voice lazy and content. “Mon chérie, you were incredible.”

You smiled, your eyelids heavy as you nuzzled closer to him. “You too,” you whispered, your words barely audible against the blanket. “So good.”

Charles reached over to the nightstand, grabbing his water bottle. “Here, drink some,” he murmured, holding it to your lips.

You took a few sips, the cool water refreshing you. “Thank you,” you said softly, your voice a sleepy murmur.

Charles placed the bottle back on the nightstand after taking a sip or two himself and then wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I loved watching you in the mirror,” he said, his words muffled against the blanket. “Seeing you like that… it was something else.”

“Mmm,” you agreed, your eyes fluttering closed. “It was really hot.”

Charles’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. “We should do it again sometime,” he suggested, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You chuckled softly. “Definitely,” you agreed, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

As you drifted off to sleep, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the afterglow of your passion. Your hearts beating in perfect harmony.

[screampied]

i’m obsessed with ur fics and want to live inside your pretty little brain, you just write jjk characters so well 🫠

recently i’ve been thinking about choso having a bad day or something and just wanting to be taken care of, so now you’re nursing him while you jerk him off and he’s a whiny moaning mess and it’s so cute and when he thinks you’re done with him you get on top and ride him and he’s begging you to stop bc he can’t take anymore pleasure :( like i’m sick over this i need him so bad

❤︎ ໋𓈒 pleasing choso after a long day.

warnings. fem! reader, overstim, jerking choso off, pampering choso bc he deserves it, whiney choso, cowgirl, creampıe, praise, mdni + thank u sm !!!

“. . please,” choso would murmur in a frail weak tone, he sounded so drowsy, so needy. he’s barely through the door before he wraps his strong bulky arms around you. you giggle, being squished between his warmth before he buries his face into your neck. he gently runs his tongue against your collarbone before continuing to speak in muffled sentences. “missed you so bad. had a long day ‘n just need to . . need to unwind.”

you smile, stroking his back lovingly. “aw, bad day today, ‘cho?” you’d sweetly reply, feeling him shudder from your touch alone. despite you being so gentle, he was always so incredibly weak around you, including a simple few electric touches from you. “of course baby, i’ll help you.”

“can….you help me um,” and he’s struggling to get the words out. the two of you were finally secluded together in the large spacey bedroom. choso’s laid back, shirtless and heavy heaving breaths depart from his lips every few seconds. the more you stare at him the more he finds it hard to swallow the growing lump in his throat. “can you do the thing? like last time?”

you giggle, glancing at the poking tent in his boxers. “a handjob, baby?”

“…handjob,” he repeats, his eyes softening before a mere whine escapes from his throat. “oh … yeah, that. please,” and his lungs felt so clouded. with a hand running through his hair, he sighs cutely. “yes p-please. i wanna handjob. i’d do it myself but you always do it better, p-princess.”

choso was so cute, the way he was basically putty underneath your hands..

his words always trembled, he wanted you more than anything. he was always like this whenever he came home, so needy each and everytime for nothing more than your simple addicting touch.

“okay,” you’d comply, just a single word that pours from your lips alone was so seductive to him. he could listen to your voice all day. it was his own type of harmony, a song he’d love to listen to every day on repeat if he could.

your voice.

you reach beside him near the black short nightstand, grabbing a lube bottle before making sure to not waste any time.

you could tell by choso’s dilated pupils and his irregular rapid pants that he was growing more and more impatient as the time passed.

“wanna feel you s-so bad,” he whimpers, tensing a little from the way your hand springs out his length, lubricating around his pulsating cock.

you always made sure to be thorough— slicking every inch of him down with the liquid, starting from his swollen tip, then down towards his shaft, then his base. of course, his balls too. whenever you fondled with his fat puffy balls, choso would make such the cutest whines imaginable. “f-fuck, m-more. hurry, princess.”

“baby, don’t rush me,” you tease, sitting right beside him before pressing a sweltering hot kiss against his temple. he whimpers at your touch yet again, the softness of your lips having him in utter shambles. you made sure to have your dominant hand pay close attention towards the head of his dick, the most neglected sensitive spot. he inhales then exhales, gnawing at his lip before dark eyes of his stares up at the idle ceiling fan. “mhm. you’re so pent up, must have had a really rough day, hm?”

“so h-horrible,” he pouts, despite his voice being naturally deep and a bit gruff, the delivery of how whiney he was was just so cute. “i’m just glad i always come home to you. y-you always know how to make me feel better.”

you simper, your hand finally fully wrapping around his base before you start to give him a few solid pumps.

he moans, thickly swallowing the remnants of sweet syrupy spit that remain all in his mouth.

so so good..

you drove him crazy in the right ways possible. choso felt a sudden ringing sensation rigorously vibrate throughout his ears. he felt hot all over, radiating with a staggering high temperature of scorching boiling heat.

the tempo you had with jerking him off was a decent pace at first, gradually fisting his cock with each concise stroke—you occasionally glance up at choso who’s panting up a storm. “. . . . ugh,” he mewls out through gritted teeth, a hand of his own attempting to grab towards yours. “i wanna touch you t-too.”

“no choso,” you sneer, moving his hand away.

oh, the pout that suddenly spreads across his lips was so cute.

he’s giving you puppy dog eyes as if he’s questioning you a perplexed little, ‘huh?’ whilst you’re still stroking him at such a quickening pace, you make sure he keeps his hands to himself. “you wanted me to touch you, not choso, ‘kay? let me do everything, be a good boy for me.”

“i-i’m sorry, sorry,” he mutters in short breaths, finding your tone to be so hot. the twitch he feels in his dick only gets him more aroused. for a split second, you feel a vein that ran down the middle of his shaft pulse against your palm. “you’re right. ‘m gonna let you please me. gonna be a good boy ‘n keep my hands to m-myself.”

you peck a kiss against his hot cheek. “so good for me.”

“p-praise me more, please.” he whines.

“choso,” you giggle, and he was more needier than usual today. his voice grew a bit more high the faster you stroke him—his beefy thigh starts to bounce and bounce before he’s leaning back in pleasure. “you want more praises?”

he nods. “i- i do, your voice ‘s so hot, so s-sexy,” and his breathing abruptly hitches once you give him a sly smile. “not the right word, that was inappropriate— i- i mean, attractive. your voice when you praise me ‘s so attractive, i want more.”

the way he corrects himself from his choice of words was adorable.

whenever you gave choso a handy though, he’d never really last long regardless. choso would usually only last a few good minutes, especially with your hand work, your techniques.. he was simply no match.

“i’ll praise you all day, baby,” you whisper, watching as he’s feeling himself get close. he’s so desperate to touch you. he wants to, to stroke himself with you, wrap his big hand against yours. choso bites his lip in anticipation— feeling how he’s steadily losing composure. immensely, he starts to feel his throat grow dry, the air felt richly thick and he starts to get more and more vocal. “close?”

“uh huh, uh huuh,” he nods, pretty long lashes of his squeezing shut. choso’s about to fall into that trance again, your speed had him losing his mind. in his mouth, he starts to salivate. you’re so steady and precise with your beats and pumps against his cock that he’s about to spiral completely. “princess, ‘m gonna make a mess. you’re gonna make me m-messy again.”

“be messy for me then,” you invigorate to him against his ear, playfully licking a stripe near the soft outer shell of his lobe. he shivers at that, so sensitive. again, if it was anything that could be considered as choso kamo’s weakness— it was your voice. “give it to me, c’mon ‘cho.”

he’s so hard, his dick was all slick and wet from the translucent colored lube running down the sides of his hefty shaft.

a shaky breath snatches out of choso’s mouth before his abs tense up.

a hand goes through his hair before he feels the pressure finally hit him. “shit, s-shitttt,” he whines, feeling the area of his frenulum pulse and pulse. he’s seeing pure splotches of white— once his climax comes, it takes merely everything out of him. static shoots out from his ears and he lets off a cute shriek. “a-ah.”

you stare at the mess he’d just paint on himself. a few spurts of his own sticky cum shoots against his tummy, right near his lower abdomen. choso’s eyebrows significantly lower before he lets off a cute, “phew..”

“want more?” you coo, unraveling your hand around his dick before staring at him— he returns your gaze with half-lidded dark eyes.

he nods, panting off a sweet desperate. “yes please.”

choso figured you were gonna stroke him off again, but his eyes briefly widen once you end up up making your way onto his lap. straddling him in such a lewdly titillating way, he gulps. the ringing throughout his ears reverberates louder before you align yourself against the wet tip of his cock.

he was so aroused, so needy, so in love..

being a half curse spirit— he’s never got to fully experience types of pleasure like this.

albeit, he was always grateful to you for being able to show him everything he was missing out on though. with his bottom lip quivering, he gasps once he feels you slowly sinking down onto his length, feeling the warm pool of heat introduce itself to his cock that’s gradually splitting you open.

“oh…..fuck,” he’d groan, and at this particular point, his voice grows a raspy low. hooded eyes stare at you, studying your every move. from fixating his pupils on your hips, your chest, and even your face— he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. “y-you’re gonna ride me?”

“yes baby,” you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a deep sensual kiss. he’s panting, each breath feels like it’s gonna be its last with you. warm tongues tangle and tango amongst each other before you briefly suck on his. a whine pulls from his throat before he feels your hips start to jerk.

abruptly, choso pulls away, whimpering a sweet. “can— can i touch you now at least? please. f-fuck, can’t take it anymore princess.”

“touch me however you’d like, pretty boy,” you’d speak in a hushed tone, licking another long strike against his neck. he was so sensitive, his eyes were practically about to roll all the way back by this point. you’re easing your sloppy cunt down onto his length and his roughly textured hands grab against your hips. choso then spanks your ass, only to give it a mean squeeze afterward just to see you gasp. “like touching me, huh?”

“y-you know i do,” he pouts, feeling the deep stretch. it was so so good— mouth watering, a perfect way to describe his mouth at the feeling of your pussy taking him in in such a sloppy, erotic way. already, you were a bit soaked from earlier, coating his base with a candied gossamer ring of your slick arousal. “my god, my g-goddd.” he throws his head back once you start to move against him.

a few solid rhythmic thrusts and choso kamo was done for.

he stuffs you full of inches, you lean up close to his face to plant your lips against the bridge of his nose— softly smooching against the area where his darkened scar remained. pink wet lips of his quaver from that simple action and his grip against your hips only tightens.

clammy, sweaty hands guide your hips to fuck against him harder before his head leans back. “fuck me, f-fuck me, jus’ fuck me pleaseeee. can’t c-cum, don’t think i can come anymore.”

choso becomes more whiny, his voice starting to strain overtime and you feel your stomach briefly seizing from how deep he’s hitting you.

relentlessly, you’re moving against him so good that not even he can keep up with you. your pussy’s the perfect match for him, fitting nice and snug like a lock fits inside a key.

oh, but the grip..

the grip of your sopping wet cunt against his dick was so appetizing, he only wanted more. more more more, the squelching noises had him feral and by now, with a tight enough grip he’s helping you slam down against his lap. “hah, can’t . . ‘m not gonna cum again, baby, f-fuck. fuck me so good, i—i love you, love you ‘s much.”

“i love you too baby,” you moan yourself, pulling him back into a steamy kiss. his sweetened whines and whimpers pour right into your mouth, ravened strands of his hair sticking against his forehead like glue. choso was drenched in sweat, perspiring such amounts that it makes his skin glisten entirely. “yes you can,” you hum between sultry breaths, coating his entire face with your kisses. you watch as his eyebrows arch and he squeezes against your ass just a bit tighter. he loves the recoil— spanking your ass just to witness and see the jiggle, it had his dick twitching even more. “you can give me one more, know you can, baby.”

“f-fuck, you’re gonna make a mess outta me,” he whimpers. the way you grind against him has him going feral by the second. hot deep breaths wretch from his throat before his head goes back. he leans all the way back, washboard abs flexing and curling up. with a single finger of yours running down his sharp chiseled v-line, he nearly loses it. your touch, his ultimate weakness. “gonna c-cum again, ‘m gonna flood your pussy again, oh fuuuuck.”

with your arms still lazily thrown around him, choso hugs you tightly, pumping further into your gummy walls that clamp him down oh so good before he ends up cumming again. this time, inside. it’s so hot from the inside—your pussy was all toasty, balmy from every crevice of your walls and the addictive hold it has on him. he shoots a long thick rope into you, it comes out into satiny spurts, filling you up to the very brim.

choso’s reaction was so cute, he’s literally speechless, yet his grip against your ass doesn’t even lessen. his face was practically covered with strands of his hair, half lidded eyes and a pussy drunken smile curling against his thin crimson red lips. “i— oh my,” he hiccups, catching his breath for a moment. the entirety of his body felt a plethora of emotions— hot, cold, warm, all of it. for a moment, his eyes meet your gaze before he swallows, reaching down, swirling two fingers against your sloppy cunt. you moan, feeling him gather up a good amount of his own cum that oozes out of your hole before bringing it toward his lips. choso pops his fingers into his mouth, getting a good taste and he moans, still feeling himself deeply buried into your sweet cunt.

so filthy, tasting himself like that with no shame..

“taste okay?” you puff out, watching as he’s got his two digits stuffed all in his mouth. with a cute nod, he pulls you closer towards his broad chest before you slowly pull his fingers out his mouth. “good, because ‘m not done with you yet, baby. wanna see if you can give me one more. can you be a good boy ‘n do that for me?”

“i- i’ll be your good boy,” he pouts, moaning harmonically once your hips start to make haste, picking up again. “wanna be so good for you. promise i’ll give you one more. f-fuck, i love you.”

[rafesslxt]

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐦. 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

nsfw | mattheo riddle | requested by 6 readers

aesthetic: 🫦💋⛓️🗣️ ⎥masterlist⎥words: 1,6k

「 ✦ you have a little fun with tied up mattheo ✦ 」

warnings: smut, sub!mattheo, whimpering, use of vibrator and cockring, tied up, moaning, dirty talk, overstimulation, teasing, edging, begging, p in v unprotected, cum,blowjob, handjob

prompts used: A2; "ooh fuck – it's s-so sensitive" A4; "Please, I've been so good! I didn't even touch myself!" A14; "you keep your hands where they are or I'll tie you up."

note: english is not my first language, If u don't like submissive men; don't read

"You keep your hands where they are or I'll tie you up." my voice rang through the room while I sat down on my boyfriends thighs.

"Please, I've been so good! I didn't even touch myself!" he argues back, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. We didn't do this very often since Mattheo was more of a dominant person but here and there when he felt like it, he would let me control the situation. And oh boy would he be a submissive little thing.

"Hmm you know what? I feel like still doing it." I answered with a mischievous smile on my face as I grabbed one of my ties that laid on the nightstand and wrapped it around his wrists and his headboard.

He groaned in frustration and earned himself a raised eyebrow from me, which shut him up real quick. " 'm sorry.." I nodded in approval and let go of the tie when I was ready putting it around him.

His shirt and pants were already gone through our previous make out session so I had it easy with undressing him. I looked down from his face to his boxer shorts that had a visible and hard bulge in them.

I teased him with my fingertips, slowly running them over his tent. " y/n please, don't tease me.." I chuckled and smirked at him. "Where's the fun in that?"

I leaned down and kissed him through his underwear where a little wet spot started to form, probably from his arousal. Mattheo lifted his hips and grinned his bulge against my face which caused a deep moan to leave his mouth.

I kissed my teeth, shaking my head. "If you wanna cum tonight I would advise you to be a good boy and don't move." A frustrated sigh left his lips and he looked down at me with his lips parted and his pupils blown.

My hands pushed his boxers down so his cock slapped against his stomach and as I already guessed, the tip was covered in pre-cum. I wrapped my hand around him and slowly moved it up and down, rubbing my thumb over his tip every time my hand moved upwards.

"Baby, don't want your hand right now.. need the toy.." he whined when I moved my hand up and down on his shaft just how he usually likes it. I raised my eyebrows at him and shook my head. "That's a little ungrateful, don't you think Matty?" My voice sounded sweet and nothing like I already planned in my head to show him who's in charge.

"I'm s-sorry please, just need more." I leaned over to the nightstand again where his toys were. I grabbed a cockring and a little vibrator. I noticed his eyes widening at the cockring, his mind already guessing that it meant no coming for him. I turned the vibrator on, at first on the lowest setting before I held it against his leaking tip.

"Oh-" a whimper left his lips and he closed his eyes to completely concentrate on the newest feeling. "Feels good, baby?" I asked him innocently, my voice sweet like sugar again. "Shit yes, feels so good – merlin!"

A little smirk formed back onto my lips when my thumb pressed the little plus symbol on the settings, putting the toy on the highest setting. The buzzing was loud like the whimpers and moans that left Mattheo's mouth now.

"Ooh fuck – it's s-so sensitive!" he whined. "Already?" I said in a mockery tone, enjoying the view in front of me. His hips started to buck up against the toy, his eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth wide open, jaw unlocked.

My other hand grabbed the cockring and put it on. "It's too much baby- shit.." he whimpered. "If you wanna stop say your word." Before we first tried switching the roles of being submissive, we each chose a word If we really wanted to stop. His was snake and mine was peach.

He shook his head, his cheeks heating up. "N-no.." "Then stop whining and take it." "I'm close, so fucking close! Please take the ring off, y/n, please." he started begging, knowing If it was on he wouldn't be able to cum. I grabbed his balls and started massaging them while the vibrator still buzzed against his now red and leaking tip. His hips started to buckle uncontrollably, making it harder for me to hold the toy against his tip.

Right when he first started twitching, I pulled the toy and my hand away, leaving him unsatisfied. "F-fuck! noo.. no no no no, please y/n! Fuck I need to cum so fucking bad."

A evil little laugh left my lips when I watched how desperate he lifted his hips in hope of some friction. "Hmm please, need to be inside you.." "What? I thought you wanted your toy huh?" I teased him, leaning down to start kissing his throat.

"No, no I swear I'm sorry. I just need you, please let me be inside you baby." he sobbed, tears forming in his eyes as he looked up at me. A sigh left my lips when I pushed my underwear to the side and hovered over his cock. He looked down between us with hope and desperation in his eyes.

"You want me to ride you, baby?" I asked him teasingly, slowly rubbing his tip between my wet folds, making him lose his mind. "Yes, so badly!" I lowered myself down onto him until the tip was inside of me. A low groan was heard from him, his eyes rolling back.

Then, with one movement, I let myself fall down on him until he was inside of me with not an inch left. "Oh – shit!" he tried to free himself with tugging on the tie around his wrists but it was useless.

A little laugh left my mouth when I saw him struggling. "Fuck this isn't funny y/n!" Mattheo hisses at me after i laughed a little over his whimpers. "Yeah you‘re right, it‘s hot." I say grinning, moving my hips painfully slow up and down.

"I swear I - I can‘t take it anymore baby, please." he whined and buckled his hips up but I lifted mine a little too. He whimpers again at the loss of contact. "We already talked about this Matty. If you‘re a good boy and lay still you can cum."

He groans and bites his bottom lip, pressing his hips down into the mattress to stay still. "That‘s right.." I whispered into his ear, kissing behind it which made him shiver. "You feel great baby.. doing good for me mh?" I moan as I start to move my hips again and felt him deep inside me.

He pressed his full lips together into a thin line and only nodded for an answer. I smiled when I saw how he tried to stay still and be a good boy for me. His cheeks were completely flushed, sweat was forming on his forehead and his eyes were heavy, almost too heavy. His breathing was fast and his skin felt hot against my own.

I moved my own hand down towards my clit and moved my fingers over it just like he would normally do. "Oh yeah baby, touch yourself, fuck that's so hot." he breathed out heavily, not taking his eyes off of my fingers. I clenched around him hearing his voice like that. He groaned when I tightened around him.

I felt my stomach tightening, sensing I was close. I moved my hips faster in the same rhythm like my fingers until I moaned Mattheo's name to send even more shivers down his spine. "Fuck Mattheo.. I'm so close, I'm gonna come around you."

A whine was heard from him but I blended everything around me out when my orgasm finally hit me. My mouth was wide open and my hips moved in a fast rhythm against him, no hearing a word from him.

When I slowly calmed down again I opened my eyes, my hips still moving. "Please let me come I- I can't take it anymore I'm gonna fucking explode I swear!" A loud, broken sob echoed through the room when I lifted my hips up and his cock slapped against his stomach again.

I pulled the ring off him and laid in between his legs. "You sure you deserve to come?" I ask him with a soft voice, my hand wrapped around his base.

He nodded his head like he was possessed and bucked his hips up again. "I'm begging you princess, please let me come.." his voice sounded weak and frustrated so I decided to finally give him what he wanted.

So I wrapped my lips around his tip and carefully sucked around it. "Hmpf –" I smiled around him and looked up to see him with his eyes closed and his cheeks red like never before. "I'm so close.."

I took more of him into my mouth and bobbed my head up and down, moving my hand around his base too and my second hand on his balls again, driving him crazy. I head a mix of a broken sob and cry again before he twitched inside my mouth, his hips grinding up against my face and my mouth slowly filled with his cum.

The room was filled with his whines and whimpers, my lips sucking on his still sensitive tip. "Ohh fuck you're gonna be the death of me." he breathed out when I opened my mouth and showed him my empty mouth.

"Oh that wasn't it, Matty." I grinned wicked when I saw his wide eyes.

thank you for requesting and for anyone else thanls u for reading and supporting 🫶🏻

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @cardi-bre91 @gxdsfavgal @synicaljah @yourenogoodforme @sofa-couch26 @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @auxcordlawd @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @beautywine @sagetakami @simp-for-fantasy @whyamireadingthis @i-like-pandas5 @jordynhartley2001 @romantasyreader28 @giasus-@batsching @themissingweasley26 @thegirlwhosimpstoomuch @tiaajosephin @meneatervv

xoxo sarah <3

[mr-bas00nist]

could I get a subby Toji fic or even a drabble at some point plz? i love him soo much but I don't see many fics with him for domtop male reader

Rough Em’ Up!

☁︎-Sub! Fushiguro Toji x Mean! Dom! Male! Reader

☁︎-Cw: Rough sex, readers a big guy with a big dick, prostitution, slight size kink, impact play, degradation, blowjob, hair-pulling and overstimulation

You’d heard of the infamous Toji Fushiguro from buddies of yours. Men and women who couldn’t brag enough on his behalf on how hot this guy was and how much of a good fuck he was. Whether you were the type of guy to bang a prostitute or not you didn’t have too much interest in Toji. Especially with how “known” he was in the community.

Which is why you had no idea how you wound up with numerous dollars in hand as Toji sat on the bed with you. You were just hanging out with friends at the bar when you felt a pair of strong hands envelope your shoulders. You saw him lean over, breath hot with a twinge of smoke in it. Your friends looked at you in awe, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were popping boners at just the sight of the man.

You couldn’t say he wasn’t attractive. You turned over and raised an eyebrow at him as you took a sip of your drink. “Can I help you?” You asked the man with an unamused look, although you couldn’t hide how your eyes raked over his form. “Think you can. Got a few bucks to spare and I can make it the night of your life.” He hummed, scarred lip curling in a smug grin.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Fuck it…. What’d you really have to lose? He smirked as you slid him over a 20 to get things rolling. Based on what your friends told you it was obvious he put a discount on for you. You grabbed his chin as you began making out with the man, the room seemingly getting hotter the longer you two were in it. When you pulled back you licked his neck and sucked a hickey into it.

He looked down noticing the tent in your pants. “Throw in 50 more and I’ll take care of that for you big boy.” He licked his scar with an intrigued look as you huffed grabbing another 50 before sliding it to him. He smiled as he put the money aside before pulling your dick out. You watched as his eyes widened and his mouth drop.

He peers up at you with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve been hiding this monster huh?” He stuck his tongue out before licking you from the base of your cock to the head. You hummed feeling a small shiver run up your spine. He let out a small groan as he circled his tongue around your slit to tease.

“I didn’t pay you good money for you to tease.” You slapped the back of his head making him let out a small grunt. “Don’t be such a dick…” He murmured with flush in his cheeks before his warm mouth enveloped your cock. You moaned softly as he began bobbing up and down. It was obvious he knew what the hell he was doing and to be fair you enjoyed it.

After a few moments though you got impatient, you shoved him down onto your cock as he let out a small gurgle before peering up at you. You could tell he barely had a gag reflex as the only noises you could hear was his sharp breaths and soft moans. You pulled him off of you as a string of drool connected you two. You grabbed another 50 before handing it to him.

“Ass up face down.” You demanded as he raised an eyebrow. “I’m supposed to be-“ you slapped him across the face before he let out a whorish moan at the sensation. “I paid you. Ass up face down.” You spoke once again as he clicked his tongue with visible annoyance, his aching cock definitely contradicted his look though.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Did Toji have any idea why he gave you a discount? Yes, because you were hot. Did he have any idea why he let you degrade and slap him around? Yes, because you were hot. Does he have any idea why he’s letting you tarnish his dominant reputation by currently dicking him down like some commonwhore? Yes, because you’re hot.

You had your foot on his head with your hands on his hips as you pulled him right back into you. How many times did he cum? Who knows. You let out audible grunts and groans as you fucked the living hell out of him. He had his face against the bed as he drooled with eyes rolled back into his head.

He was letting out broken moans and whimpers as you degraded him. “Shit- you really do live up to expectations huh? Take dick like a whore… do you usually let guys fuck you like this?” You asked hitting his prostate head on with each thrust into his tight hole.

He didn’t answer, obviously not catching your words. So you pressed more weight onto your foot as it brought him back to the real world. “Ah- what?” He raised a confused eyebrows, tears running down his face from the pain and pleasure. You pulled your foot off of his head before leaning down whispering into his ear.

“Do you usually let guys fuck you like this?” You whispered in a sweet tone. He let out a tired groan before shaking his head rapidly. “J-just you…” You smirked. “Everyone else to pussy to give you what you deserve?” You asked to which he nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Sometimes whores like you just need to get dicked down.”

You pulled him back into you fucking him doggy while pulling back his shaggy black hair. He reached down to his sensitive cock as he stroked it in time with your rough thrusts. He had no idea when his orgasm came but fuck was it intense. Especially when he passed out.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

He opened his eyes as he felt beams of sun hitting his face. He groggily groaned as he felt blankets over him. He sat up as he looked over to the nightstand seeing a glass of water and some pain meds. He raised an eyebrow with a hum as he saw a hundred dollar bill on the counter.

There was a note from you? “Sorry I was so rough, been really pent up and angry lately. Thanks for letting me take it out on you, rest up.” Short but sweet he had to admit. He cracked his neck with a smirk on his face as he noticed the number at the bottom before speaking to himself.

“He seems like a keeper…”

A/n: First manwhore fic 😂🙏🏽 lmao, another fun write. It was fun writing him getting roughed up, deserved tbh 🤷🏽‍♂️ (jk I love you my misunderstood no cursed energy having king)

[tojisun]

biker!simon (ghost) riley x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; mask kink; D/s; off-screen scene discussion (like power play); dacryphilia; extended foreplay; petnames; mean simon // 2.6k words

biker!simon mlist

it is carnal. desperate. pawing hands finding each other, trying to get rid of the leather.

you fall on the bed with a huff, body bouncing as the mattress ripples, soft sheets tickling your bare skin. you look up, blinking past the haze, watching as simon gazes at you – clothed. helmeted.

there is something that stirs in your stomach at seeing the disparity – you, naked and bare for him; him guarded. shielded. like he is a mere spectator of your body. like you are made to have you served on a silver platter for him to nip at your flesh and to etch his passions on your skin. like all that you are is his to enjoy – a one-sided servitude. 

you tremble with need, watching as he fiddles with his belt, metal clanking together when he goes to unbuckle it. you bite your bottom lip in anticipation, following the way his thick fingers pinch his zipper to tug downwards, giving you a glimpse of his black boxers. then, he reaches for his helmet.

“no!” you yelp, scrambling to stop simon from removing the gear. you don’t even register what you did or how the word ripped through your lips until it resonated in the room, your chest heaving when the realization struck.

simon’s head cocks to the side slowly, looking animated with his helmet. it makes you clench your thighs close, putting pressure on your throbbing clit, and you watch with bated breath as simon’s head dips down to follow the length of your legs.

there is something in not seeing his face that has you aching, desire creeping in from the base of your spine to the tips of your fingers. something that simon must have felt too because he unhooks his hand from his chin strap to continue shucking his cargos just low enough that you can see the chub underneath his boxers.

“like what you see?” he asks, his crooning voice muffled by his helmet.

your legs squeeze tighter, your arm unconsciously coming up to cover your tits. you do not answer him, too caught up in watching as he slowly palms himself through his boxers, cupping his hand around his tent like he’s reminding you what he’s packing.

like he’s showing you what he promises he’ll give you.

but your silence makes him snarl, his hand falling to his side before he stalks towards you. his shins bump the edge of the bed, then he bends forward, his big frame towering over your trembling figure. you feel like a prey caught before him, naked and grappling with the desire that chokes you because there is something addicting at being so powerless before him.

simon laughs, something faint and mean, like he knows what got you spiralling. like he understands. 

he reaches a hand out and pushes your hair away from your face. “i should’ve known that y’r a slut for this.”

the words are whispered, barely breaching the mouth guard of his helmet, but they pierce through the building static between the two of you and you couldn’t help the whimper that falls from your lips nor the willowy gasp of his name. 

simon breathes in sharply before surging towards you, his gloved hands reaching to tug your arms away from your body so he can see you again. you resist with a little pull on your end, your mind buzzing with a building fog, but simon’s hold only gains strength as he tightens his fists around your wrists. 

“show me,” he grunts, pulling you towards him.

you glide across the sheets easily, simon’s overwhelming strength stirring your desires even more. shamefully, you feel your cunt dampen, slick gathering at the lips of your pussy just at having been manhandled by your lover. you want to press your face on the inside of your arm and hide how affected you are by simon’s display of dominance, but his hands are already sliding down your sides, hooking by your hips, before stopping just at the meat of your thighs.

you tumble backwards, head falling to the mattress when simon kneels between your legs, slotting himself there like that is his rightful spot; like that is where he has always belonged. 

then, he stops. you think you know why.

“oh, sweetheart,” he croons, folding himself towards you just enough to make it easy for him to peer at your glistening heat. “look at you leakin’.”

you tear your eyes away from the ceiling to peer down at him, your cheeks burning at the attention he pours into your cunt, only to freeze, your breath getting stuck in your lungs. 

because how could you even forget?

the expanse of your wet cunt is reflected on his visor, the details stark and clear, and you hiccup, ripping your eyes away from the image and thrashing to curl into yourself. shame unfurls in the pit of your stomach, snuffing out the rumbling want that had just overwhelmed you, but simon holds you down to make you stop. 

“you have nothin’ to be shy about, kid,” he says, easing his hands away from your wrists to grip your hips. “look at me. i said look at me.”

you sniffle as you gaze back at him, flinching when all you see is your face reflected back. simon pauses at your reaction, his hold on your hips going lax.

“do you want the helmet off?” he asks, genuine concern now lining his voice. 

you blink, twining your hands together now that simon isn’t holding them. yes please tickles your lips but you hesitate, battling with yourself because-

because you still want the thrill of this – the brief imbalance of power between the two of you where you are simon’s prey, and all that you are is at his mercy; the temporary display of his darkness, stretching over the horizon as he bears down onto you, diminishing your very being into nothing but his to use for pleasure.  

because you ache to feel small. 

so you shake your head slowly, steeling yourself as you continue to look at simon’s visor, trying to see past your reflection as though you can catch a glimpse of his eyes if only to show him that you still want this. 

but more than your want, more than the hunger you have for simon, you want to show him that you trust him. 

and when you feel simon’s hands spasming from where they are gripping your hips, you know he understands. 

“okay,” he says, nodding. his bobbing head almost makes you giggle. “but tell me when you want to stop, alright sweetheart? remember your safeword?”

“mhmm,” you hum, writhing on the bed to get closer to him, sighing when your greedy hands finally get to rub along his abdomen. “cake pops.”

he cups your cheek, the leather smooth against your skin. “that’s right. cake pops.”

—

“please,” you sob, trembling in desperation as simon continues to tease his fingers along your slit. he has yet to give you a taste of what you want even when his cock weeps, staining the fabric of his boxers. you want to commend him for his self restraint but you know he is doing this to tease you. to drive you to insanity. 

simon remains unmoved, pushing down on your stomach when your squirming turns erratic, before scooping out a glob of your slick and rubbing it along your hardened clit to make a mess out of your weeping cunt. you squeal, clawing at the sheets when his fingers pinch your clit, the muted pleasure razing into something that stings. 

and yet it is still not enough.

“simon pleasepleaseplease,” you babble, blinking bleary eyes at him and shivering when all you’re met with is the sight of your tear-stained face. 

you look like a wreck with your hair sticking to your damp face, your lips swollen from the way you have nibbled on them to bite down your sobs and whimpers whenever simon ripped his fingers out of your cunt every time he felt you tighten up. 

“no cumming without my permission, doll,” he crooned, all mean and playful. 

then he’d repeat the process – fucking his thick fingers into your pussy, pumping them with a broken tempo so that you’d never get use to the stretch, crooking them just right until your back arches off the bed with a broken scream, only for simon to push you back down again with a faux disappointed sigh.

“stay put or y’r not cumming.”

it isn’t like it mattered anyway if you had followed his commands, not when simon’s too familiar with your body; attuned to the way you react when you’re near your orgasm. and you know this is all a play to him – something that gets him off as he pulls you to the edge of your euphoria only to drag you back down from your high, crooning words lilting and fading into the background as your ringing ears struggle to grasp the sudden loss of your peaking orgasm.

he plants his hand on your belly, rubbing soothing circles as a sob racks your body. “y’ve been so good f’r me,” simon murmurs. his other hand swipes at your cunt again. “gonna reward you now, princess. gonna give you what you need.”

you sigh, a happy contented sound, and simon laughs at your reaction before lifting his hand up to cup your jaw. the action is tender and soft even when his thumb traces along your bitten lips, wiping away at the thin sheen of spit that pooled at the edge of your mouth.

you watch it all through his visor, feeling breathless at the image you make. at the image that simon reduces you to.

simon notices. of course he does.

“pretty, aren’t you, baby?” his head falls closer to you as he says this, purposefully encompassing your full visage so that your teary eyes could see your wrecked self. 

you feel faint watching as his thumb finally dips into your mouth, pushing past your plush lips until the pad of it bumps into the front of your teeth. you move to suck at his finger even when he doesn’t ask, cataloguing the way your lips wrap around his thumb or how your cheeks hollow when you begin suckling.

you look erotic. sinful. 

simon groans like he is thinking the same thing, his helmet bumping your forehead.

“christ, sweetheart. y’ve ruined me.”

you giggle softly as he nuzzles his helmet on your sweat-stained forehead and squeezes your jaw for the last time before pulling away. he leaves you there on the bed, your eyes blown wide as you watch him tug at his boxers to finally free his pretty, pretty cock.

the moan that leaves your lips is pornographic and carnal, and simon jolts, his hand coming up to fist his cock as the sound ricochets in the room. you see his chest heave and, had your mind not been reduced to a needy mush, you would have realized that he’s gripping his cock to stop himself from cumming just from the sound you made.

“spread y’r legs f’r me, baby,” he growls, his hand still gripping his cock. 

and you do as he says: your hands ball on top of your chest as you spread your legs spread apart, the soles of your feet rustling against the sheets. cool air hits your dripping cunt and you mewl, feeling and seeing how exposed you are before simon.

“so pretty,” simon groans as he shuffles close, lining his cock against your cunt. “an’ it’s all mine, yeah?”

you nod, you think. you honestly don’t know. not when your attention is rooted to simon’s visor, watching with stuttering breaths as he moves to rub his cock along your folds. the first touch makes you squeal, the rush of pleasure jolts you into closing your legs. it’s only simon’s hand pressed on the inside of your thigh that stops you from doing so, the pressure he’s putting on your leg gluing your muscle onto the bed. 

“fuck, sweetheart,” he croaks, still slicking his cock along your folds, the sounds so filthy as they filter through the air. “so fuckin’ wet f’r me.”

god, this is torturous. you need him so desperately, it hurts.

you break into sobs as you reach out to grasp at his arms, feeling untethered as your sanity slips under the fog, feeling it grow taut like a band that’s about to snap when simon’s cock rubs against your clit. he tilts his head up just enough that you know he’s watching you, his beautiful eyes roving over the devastation on your face.

knowing that he’s looking eggs you on – desperation clawing underneath your skin, needing to be itched. “inside, please! simon, please-!” you hiccup. “i wan’ feel you! i wan’-”

you scream, your words petering into a garbled wail when simon finally sinks his cock in you. your head falls back to the pillows, your eyes rolling back to your skull. but he keeps on sliding, keeps on thrusting in – his cock is so long, it feels endless. 

you’re babbling, moans slithering into a noiseless squeal when simon’s pelvis finally bumps the inside of your thighs. 

he’s in. you realize with a tremble. all of him, in you.

your ecstasy bloats, peaking, and your toes curl when it explodes, razing through your sanity until all you can feel is a buzz. you go numb, your ears ringing with a growing static and you fall lax on the bed. a marionette with strings cut.

“fuckin’ hell, princess,” simon hisses, almost like a happy purr. a muted thump somewhere beside the bed tickles your ears. “you jus’ squirted.”

what?

he laughs, the sound so giddy as it spills from his lips. lips which, you realize amidst the satiated thrums spreading throughout your body, you can see. 

oh, you think with a start. his helmet’s gone.

“si?” you murmur, voice hoarse and rugged.

“i’m here, sweetheart,” simon replies, burying his face on the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. “y’came so good f’r me. so perfect f’r me.” he presses a kiss on your skin as he says this.

time stops becoming a blur for you and it trickles back to you in bits, starting from the buzz underneath your veins and the satisfying weight buried in your cunt.

oh-

“simon, i’m sorry-”

simon kisses your lips and devours your apology, his tongue licking into your mouth, claiming with such ferocity. you moan, feeling the expanding warmth running from your throbbing lips to your fluttering cunt; not yet satiated. needing more. 

you gasp when he finally pulls back just enough that his lips hover above yours, ghosting a touch. clingy even when you are wrapped around him. 

“y’came like a good girl,” simon murmurs, his breath tickling your spit-smeared lips. “my good girl.”

you let out a happy sigh when simon draws out, the drag of his cock slow and delicious, before he’s pressing it back in, filling you up once again. you feel the wet patch on his pants and his boxers, and your cheeks burn when you catalogue it as your mess. 

but god, you want more. 

“harder, si,” you mewl, weak hands coming up to tangle in his messy hair. “i want it harder.”

simon braces his arms on either side of your head, his nose rubbing along your damp cheeks until he’s pulling back just enough that you see the way his eyes are blown wide with his lust.

“anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

 he kisses your cheek – the last of his gentleness for the night.

“anythin’.”

[ddarker-dreams]

What Remains Unspoken.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan

Warnings: Yandere themes & unhealthy relationships. Word count: 2.2k.

If there’s anywhere Feitan looks out of his element, it’s in the sun. 

The celestial object serves as his antitheses — warm, bright, and inviting. Given his pallid countenance, he must agree. On the rare occasions you can go outside, he keeps to the shadows, whose darkness could never match the depravity festering inside his rotten soul. You believe night itself would flee from him if it knew a fraction of his crimes. 

When you first saw him enter direct sunlight, a certain superstition overtook you, triumphing over reason. You observed with tentative expectation, waiting for something to happen, whatever that something may be. For his skin to break out into blisters, flesh to sizzle, and howls of agony to dominate the air as he disintegrated into a pile of ash; in short, a demise befitting a monster like himself. Regrettably, this didn’t happen. Disappointment weighed heavy on your chest when he went on his merry way. 

Presently, he stands hidden amidst a cluster of trees, acting every bit the fairytale ghoul your overactive imagination wished him to be. Through the branches' interstices, light speckles his dark outerwear. It’s a hot, balmy day, though evening’s arrival soothes the worst of the heat. 

Unlike him, you’re dressed for the weather. This morning, upon leaving your shower, you found the comfortable clothes you picked out beforehand ‘mysteriously’ replaced. A short, light blue dress featuring a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps laid there instead. That wasn’t all. Jewelry, heels, and other various accessories were tossed haphazardly alongside it, like you’d been undecided on what to wear before a first date. Except you hadn’t been the one to get everything out. Feitan was. Prior to that, he never took any interest in what you wore. 

No, that attribute belongs to another, whose memory fills you with sickening dread. 

You sit at a wooden picnic table, examining the park’s abundant foliage. There’s little else for you to do. Feitan’s yet to give any indication as to why you’re here. Typically, his modus operandi consists of stashing you far away from the public’s purview. From time to time, you’ll travel elsewhere, always using methods that limit your potential interactions with others. This part of the park may be less populated, but hikers and families can still stroll by. You take care not to draw attention to yourself when they do. 

Sighing, you stand, fully aware of the eyes monitoring you in the distance. Unsure of what else to do, you approach the last place you spotted Feitan. He says nothing as you approach. You hug yourself, almost regretting your decision to seek him out. By giving you no parameters to work with, you’re left constantly second-guessing yourself, fearing that you’ve broken some unspoken rule. Standing by his side feels like a safer bet than risking a stranger coming over to strike up a conversation. 

“Bored?” Feitan asks. 

You freeze, thinking over your next words with care. If he believes this little outing is a ‘privilege’, you doubt he’d appreciate you maligning it. Then again, he’s suggested creative punishments for your tongue whenever it’s formed a lie. Considering this, you decide it’s best to redirect the conversation. 

“I’m just wondering if there’s anything I should be doing,” you say. When he raises a thin eyebrow, you hastily add, “Sorry, I mean—” 

He flicks your forehead, silencing you. 

“So nervous,” he croons. “Like little rabbit.” 

Irritation bubbles up inside your chest, like a geyser ready to erupt. You want to scoff, as king why he thinks that is, but the provocation goes unchallenged. He isn’t wrong, per se. Every snap of a twig or distant conversation the wind carries instills unease. Endless grisly possibilities swarm your mind. All it could take is a greeting, wave, hell, even a look for Feitan to decide that person’s committed the ultimate transgression. 

Suddenly, this preoccupation flees your mind.

Shivers erupt all over your body. Your breathing halts, as do all other forms of movement. The five senses that categorize and make sense of the world recede, like the shoreline moments before a tsunami. What remains eclipses common sense. It’s this unprovable premonition, a whisper amidst the universe’s chaotic chorus few can ever hear. No tangible stimuli support this phenomenon. You’d believe yourself temporarily mad, if not for one damning detail. 

You’ve felt this before. 

The time you’d been found after your first (and only) escape. 

After a well-meaning Hunter pried you from the shackles of captivity, for less than a minute. 

Then, at the height of your hubris, when you yelled that your first love would be your last. 

The intensity honed to a fine point. It pierced through you like a gunshot, so visceral that you’d check yourself for signs of the wound. You never found anything. You think it was how your brain wanted to make sense of the unknown, mistaking the force of concentrated emotion for a flesh wound. This extremity wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t malevolent either; it was oppressive. Heavy, carnal. A starved beast prowling toward cornered prey. 

When you’d been subjected to this, the subjugator always spoke some variation of— 

“—Apologies. My control waned there, for a moment… but can you blame me?” 

Someone’s touching you. Someone’s cupping your face in their hands, devouring each detail of your being, and Feitan’s letting them. You stumble back, only to be caught. The hands holding you in place are larger than Feitan’s. Warmer too, a little less calloused, though no less stained in oceans of blood. If Feitan’s eyes are knife-like, trying to stab through your skull for any hint at your inner thoughts, then these eyes are calm. Calculating in a way that makes you feel small. 

“You’re lovelier than I remember,” the man murmurs. A breeze passes through, displacing your hair, which he tucks back into place. His lips twitch upward, indicating amusement. “What? Did you believe you’d ridden yourself of me?” 

Despite your reverie, you shake your head. The man before you — Chrollo Lucilfer — smiles. It’s deceptively soft. Had you not known him better, you’d think the fondness he currently regards you with as warm; the gentle flames of a hearth. There are tells that reveal another story. His grip varies in strength as he’s reminded of how delicate you are, indicating a lack of his usual ‘mindfulness.’ You both know he’s putting on a front of normalcy, yet the charade is rarely this lackluster. He descended upon you faster than the human eye could comprehend. There’d been no casual stride, just an impulse to have you as immediately as physics would allow. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks slightly flushed, like you were a substance to get drunk off of. 

The embrace he pulls you into is tight enough to make you squeak. 

You expect him to rile you up, whispering teasing words into your ear, yet he’s silent. Unusually so. He buries his face into the crook of your exposed neck, breathing you in, holding you close. Any pretense of cordiality is dropped as he acts like the greedy man he truly is. This neediness is reminiscent of a child reunited with their lost, favorite toy. 

The unsettling intimacy doesn’t last for long. 

Chrollo releases you from his grasp. The relief is fleeting, as you’re acutely aware of Feitan’s presence. He’s stationed not far behind you, watching the scene in silence. The sadistic man’s capacity to share fully eluded your understanding. From what you can remember, Chrollo’s more willing to discuss their past, but solely on his terms. He’s never explained why Feitan is the way he is, or how he views you. 

“He’s fond of you, in his own way,” is the most you got out of Chrollo, during a late-night talk. “He’s just shy.” 

“It’s good to see you again, Fei,” Chrollo greets. 

Feitan nods — his way of returning the sentiment, you reckon. In Chrollo’s absence, you’ve learned to interpret his behavior to minimize friction. The deference he has for Chrollo is subtle yet undeniable. Others might misinterpret Feitan’s silence as indifference, but you know better. In Chrollo’s presence, he straightens his posture, giving him rapt attention. He follows any order given by his boss. 

Especially those regarding you. 

Ever since that fateful September, Feitan went from a background character in your life to the lead role. He didn’t reveal much, just that you wouldn’t see ‘the boss’ anytime soon, as he needed to ‘fix things.’ York New was a sore subject that you rarely broached. Nearly ten months have passed since you’ve last seen Chrollo. Physically, he’s the same. There are bandages wrapped around his forehead, covering his forehead tattoo. He’s wearing his teal earrings, dark jeans, and a gray v-neck. 

Seeing him now, it’s almost like nothing’s changed. 

Almost. 

“Lost in thought, love?” Chrollo wonders. 

Blinking rapidly, you realize they’re both staring at you, awaiting an answer. 

“You’re… you’re back,” is your genius observation.

“I am.” 

“You were… um… gone,” you fiddle with your fingers, “For a long time.” 

“I was,” he agrees with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You see dark circles forming beneath them. “This entire affair has proven itself tedious. No matter. In a few short days, it’ll all be over.” 

“There’s more to take care of?” 

He hums, the sound low and somehow eerie. “You could put it that way. Originally, I was going to wait until after I evened one last score to see you, but impatience got the best of me.” 

“Ah,” you shift your weight from foot to foot. “That explains it, then.” 

“Explains what, dear?” 

“You seem, I don’t know… off? Creepy to the second power? Cubed?” 

Chrollo gives you a blank stare. Feitan’s hissing something about how you ‘talk too much,’ his displeasure evident. It dawns on you then that you haven’t interacted with Chrollo in so long, it’s possible his tolerance for your nonsense isn’t what it once was. Especially considering the state he’s in now. Regret churns your insides as silence fills the air, thickening it like smoke. You think to apologize, only to recall their dislike for insincerity. Feitan never wanted apologies, whereas Chrollo accepted them if proven genuine through a rigorous process. 

You wince at the sound Chrollo muffles behind his hand. 

Then, much to your disbelief, it evolves into a chuckle. 

His shoulders tremble as his eyes turn crescent-shaped, gleaming with mirth. He shakes his head and clears his throat. After a few seconds, he regains control of himself, though his posture is less rigid. This visage aligns better with your memories of him. He liked pretending he was ordinary — almost as much as you liked pretending to believe him. 

Feitan clicks his tongue. “This girl… always says. Never thinks.” 

“You must admit, it’s a cute habit,” Chrollo says.

To this, Feitan mutters a phrase in his native language, turning his gaze away from you. 

You cross your arms over your chest. They both had an irritating tendency to talk about you like you weren’t present, a pet peeve you hadn’t had to deal with in a while. The candidness they displayed made you wonder what they spoke about when you weren’t around. A pandora’s box best left unopened, surely. 

Chrollo pries one of your hands free to hold in his own. “Words cannot convey how much I missed you."

He follows this admission up by kissing the back of your hand.

“... I can’t stick around much longer, I’m afraid,” he murmurs. “Bear with me a while longer.” 

Another chaste kiss. After allowing his lips to linger on your skin a while longer, he relinquishes his grip, tucking his hands into his pockets to deter him from further indulgence. 

Unexpectedly, it’s Feitan who shifts the topic. 

“Boss,” he speaks, now lurking by your side. “She watch the fight?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glance between them, thrown off by the cryptic language. Truthfully, you don’t want to know about whatever it is Chrollo has to do. From what you can glean, it’s likely to involve people getting hurt or dying. You’ve learned the best way to keep your conscience clean is to remain ignorant. If you press on certain issues, Feitan will gleefully overshare gritty details you could’ve gone without. 

His response is swift and firm. “No, not this one.” 

“... That bad?” Feitan asks. When all Chrollo does is smile, he adds, “Heh. Poor clown.” 

Chrollo’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Upon reading the caller’s name, he steps away. “Keep an eye on her for me a while longer, Fei.” 

The aforementioned man grunts. 

Chrollo spares you a long, final look. 

His lips part, as if he intends to say something, before they shut. Inquisitive, you tilt your head, not used to him hesitating. He’s always projected this self-assured image — untouchable, near omnipotent. Flaws don’t suit him. There's this invisible screen that separates you from men like him and Feitan. Their access to abilities beyond comprehension elevates them, setting them apart..

You prefer it that way. Categorizing them as 'others' is easier than reconciling the fact their more human than infernal.

Eventually, he gives you an unusually reserved smile. 

"After everything's over, I'll find you."

[celestialprincesse]

Someone sent this to my inbox but

Simon X Uniform kink!reader🥴🩷

nsfw below the cut 💕 mdni

Normally, when Simon gets home, his first port of call is stripping off his balaclava, changing from his uniform. He leaves Ghost at the door. Your quiet, peaceful home shouldn’t be tainted by the shadow of death that lingers perpetually at his back.

To him, there’s a stigma around Ghost, around his whole career, making a life out of ending others’. Ghost gets left in the threshold of your entrance hall, dropped onto the welcome home mat and replaced by Simon. To you, it’s impossible to ignore the way he looks darkening your doorstep like death incarnate, so powerful, the epitome of brute, primal human strength. He exudes such power, such masculinity. It makes you feel weak in the most wonderful way.

Just once, you find yourself pleading for him to leave his uniform on, to let Ghost in. To take away the stigma of the thing that haunts your life. With tentative agreement and a hand on the small of your back, you’re guided back to the bedroom.

You know that Ghost will be rough, not like the soft, gentle dominance of Simon - who knows that he barely has to lift a finger to have you pliant under his touch. Ghost believes in no such thing. Ghost is a killer. A violent man who has no concept of gentleness or grace. If you want Ghost to fuck you, he’ll fuck you halfway to hell and back. The way you’re thrown down onto the bed is only a testament to how unyielding Ghost is, shredding your panties with his teeth without a word, just a growl of agreement when he sees you glistening wet.

There’s no warning when he plunges two fingers into your glistening pussy, his nails digging into the curve of your side when you cry out, a warning - a threat. He doesn’t take off his bulletproof vest, doesn’t flinch when you wrap your fingers in the velcro straps, only looking down at you with cruel knowing. Before you know it, he’s yanking down his fly, hardly bothering to pull down his jeans. He doesn’t need to. Ghost is tactical. Ghost doesn’t care for feelings.

The way his cock springs from his boxers, hard up against his abdomen, had you flinching. He makes you nervous. This Ghost is worlds away from your Simon, and it’s easy to see why people fear him so much.

You’re tempted to whine when he notches his tip against your already sensitive clit, quickly silenced by his fingers covered in your taste filling your mouth leaving you almost shamefully gagging, tears springing to your eyes.

“Been practically beggin’ me to fuck you for days now and now you’re whinin’?” He growls cruelly into your ear, his free hand finding your hip to position you. You don’t get a chance to think before his tip is thumping painfully into your cervix, leaving you crying out as you claw at his vest, his mask, anything to keep some semblance of control. He keeps a brutal pace, cruel taunts mixing with praise for how well you take him, what a perfect slut you are.

His hand pressing down slightly on the bulge in your tummy is what sends you over the edge, Simon’s brown eyes melting into stars and blinding white light as he pulls out of you, pumping his shaft and spurting ropes of hot cum on your abdomen, leaving the both of you heaving.

Ghost trickles down the shower drain along with sweat and dirt and cum, Simon washing your hair carefully as you lean your head into the crook of his neck, letting hot water pummel down your back.

“I love you. All of you.” You confess into his skin, finally content to have seen all of Simon. Not just the nice bits.

[xxavu]

YOU WILL BEG ME, TO COME SEX U .ᐟ

᱖synopsis! The Himbo wants you to stay?

᱖Pairings! Himbo!G.Satoru x Fem!Reader

᱖Contents! Smoking, Drinking, P in V, Titty fuck, Dom-ish!reader, Sub-ish!Satoru, Cumshot, MDNI!

Gojo Satoru, with his slick white hair and electric blue eyes, towered at 6 '3’’. He was the ultimate himbo—handsome, jacked, and not the brightest bulb. Your typical football captain that found entertainment in hookup culture.

Satoru’s bright smile lit up the entire room as he entered the house. Cheers erupted from everyone as he strolled in, arms loaded with alcohol. Girls swarmed him, and boys dapped him up. The party was just starting now that he was here.

Your eyes sharply glared at him in the distance as you huffed a thick cloud from the joint between your fingers. “Tch—what a bunch of dick riders,” you muttered to your best friend, who had been watching along with you. “I’d let him use me,” she said, turning to look at you with a knowing smirk.

You give her a disgusted look. "Whatever floats your boat, baby," you say, your expression softening into a small smile as you bring the red solo cup to your lips and take a sip of the strong alcohol. "Oh, come on, you'd so do it too!" She raised her eyebrows with a wink, her smile causing yours to widen. "In what world?" you reply with a playful scoff.

“D–Don’t fucking touch me!” You pant, pushing his cold big hands off your waist as you lazily grind on his cock. With every bounce, his tip kissed that certain spot in your cunt. You furrowed your brows staring down at him, “Fuck you feel so good,” he groaned throwing his head back as you pounced on his needy cock.

His face flushed with every bounce, your body on top of his as he laid his hands over his eyes, trying his best not to touch you. Small whimpers escaping his mouth, betraying his attempts at restraint. "S–shut up!" you demanded, huffing with every bounce, your body moving rhythmically on top of his. His whimpers only grew more frequent as you continued, trying to maintain control over the situation.

You started to feel bad as you saw his hands reaching out, searching for something to hold onto as the euphoric feeling overwhelmed him. “Nngh,” you moaned softly, then grabbed his hands, guiding them to your breasts. "Squeeze," you whispered.

His fingers tentatively closed around you, his grip tightening as he followed your instruction, his whimpers turning into deeper, more satisfied moans. "Tell me—do you like it?" you purred as you leaned down closer to his ear. His breath hitched, and he nodded vigorously, his fingers digging into your skin as he whispered, "Yes... I love it."

You shut your eyes as you leaned back up, the pleasure overwhelming you. But you were too stubborn to show it, biting your lip to suppress any sounds, determined to maintain control. Feeling his cock twitching inside you, veins pulsating against your walls—you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, “hah…fuck.”

Satoru felt a wave of bliss wash over him as he watched your body bounce on top of him. He had never paid much attention to you in school, but something about seeing you chatting with one of the boys on his football team had captured his interest. The tight, latex dress and fishnets you wore were not something he would typically go for, but there was an undeniable attraction.

How different this was for him—not only were you riding him, which was something he rarely experienced, but you were also very dominant. Your body bounced on his so beautifully, his icy eyes taking in the scene before him. The way you held back your moans, the sweat beading down your cute face, and the determined look as you fought to suppress your pleasure—all of it captivated him. His hand squeezed your breast, feeling the intensity of your movements and the tension in your body.

“Baby, let it out—moan f’ me yeah?” He panted as his big hands slid down onto your waist. You shook your head reluctantly. “N–no.” You whispered as you lay your soft hand on his chest. Without warning, Satoru tightened his grip around your waist, ramming inside you even harder. The sudden intensity caught you off guard, sending waves of pleasure through your body as he took control. “Ah–Satoru!” You cried out as his cock felt as if he was reaching for places no man ever could. 

As his girthy cock mindlessly rammed into your cunt, you shivered at the overwhelming stimulation. Leaning in, you got a closer look at him. His icy blue eyes were filled with pure lust, his cheeks a light shade of pink, and his lips smooth and moisturized. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race even faster, there was definitely an unspoken tension right now. 

"Kiss me—please," he whined, his eyes locking onto yours with desperation. The vulnerability in his voice and the longing in his gaze were impossible to resist, drawing you closer to him.Your bodies moved together rhythmically as your lips met his perfect, peachy lips. Your tongues danced together, exchanging saliva, and your soft moans were now muffled. 

Pulling away, the string of saliva followed you for a short minute before breaking. Glancing down at Satoru, his chest heaving as his gaze follows yours. You smirk softly as you get off Satoru, leaving him feeling unsatisfied at the sudden loss of contact. His icy blue eyes widened in surprise and frustration, a desperate need for your touch evident on his face. “W–what are you doing?” He asked confusedly.

You crawl down between Satoru’s legs as he finds himself now at the edge of the bed. Cupping your ample breast together, you give him an alluring smile. “Put your cock–between my breasts.” You whispered seductively. You watch Satoru’s face flush with arousal as he eagerly positions himself between your breasts, “Good boy,” You smirk. 

His heart skipped a beat as he looked down at you, desire swirling in his icy blue eyes. He could hardly believe the intensity of what he was feeling, every inch of him craving your touch once more. “W..why’d you ca–” his eyes shut in pleasure as you move your breast up and down his girthy cock, your body swaying in a hypnotic rhythm. 

Your fox-like eyes glimmer with mischief and possessiveness as you continue to move your breast up and down Satoru’s cock, your own arousal growing with each weak whimper Satoru let out. He threw back his head as you felt his cock twitch between your breasts, “M–Mo..” You cock your eyebrow curiously at Satoru stuttered words. “Hmm?” You hum seductively as you watch his chest rise up and down rapidly.

“Mommy! Let me cum on your face,” He groaned as his hands made his way towards your face, his soft thumb caressing your bottom lip before he shoved it into your mouth. You blushed at what he had just muttered out, not once did you ever think you’d hear the Satoru that. 

You gave in, nodding your head as you brought his thumb to your lips, sucking on it gently. His breath hitched, the sensation sending shivers down his spine. The look in your eyes promised more, making his heart race with anticipation.

Without hesitation, you felt the hot, creamy liquid spill all over your face. Satoru's breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes locked onto you with a mix of awe and satisfaction. The intensity of the moment left both of you breathless, a charged silence settling between you. 

Moments of unspoken silence lingered as you redressed yourself in what you had been wearing to the party. "You're leaving..?" Satoru hesitantly asked, now sitting on his bed wearing only a gray pair of sweats. His voice was tinged with uncertainty, his eyes watching you intently.

You chuckled softly. "I thought hookups were your thing," you teased, watching his reaction carefully. He cleared his throat, his expression earnest as he softly shook his head.

"Stay,"

[sugarcoated44]

Male JJK Character's Kinks/Favorite Sexual Acts

Kink HCs and Favorite Sexual Acts for Male JJK Characters

\\ All characters are aged up and 18+ | Minors DNI //

NSFW... Obviously

Characters: Ryomen Sukuna, Yuji Itadori, Choso, Megumi Fushiguro, Toji Fushiguro, Satoru Gojo, Sugaru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toge Inumaki, and Yuta Okkotsu.

Masterlist | Female Characters: Coming Soon

Ryoumen Sukuna

Daddy Kink

He didn't think he had one at first but it just slipped out of your mouth one day and he couldn't get enough of it.

“Say that again baby, be good for me.”

Wants you to call him that all the time, not even just in the bedroom, he becomes totally obsessed 

Marks/Hickeys 

Wants to put them everywhere on you, not just in places where only he can see but in places other people can see as well.

He wants people to know you belong to him.

Doesn't matter where he puts them, your hips, thighs, neck, you name it his mouth has been there biting and sucking on your until there's a mark.

Choking 

No surprise this man loves to take your breath away. He loves feeling your throat spasm under one of his hands while he fucks you, only letting it go so he can hear more of the garbled sweet noises that come out of your mouth while he fucks his dick into you.

Yuji Itadori

Ass Play/Anal

Anything having to do with your ass, he wasn’t lying when he said he loves a woman with a nice ass. 

He loves the feeling of your ass on him, grinding on his dick or just slapping his cock on it with you bent over face down into his bed.

As much as he loves to fuck your pussy there is just something about fucking your ass, claiming another part of you for himself that he loves so much. 

Constantly touching your ass when he’s with you, he is a hand in the back pocket of your jeans kind of lover. Slaps it constantly whenever you walk by him, you’ve given up on getting him to stop he just loves to watch it jiggle. 

Food Play

You’re too sweet sometimes he just wants you for dessert and deserts need toppings. 

It started out as just whipped cream, the two of you were in the kitchen baking and at some point you ended up on the counter without a shirt on. You squirted some of the cream onto your tits as a joke but he became absolutely enamored with it, sucking and licking at any parts of you  it touched. Eventually it evolved to other things, mostly ice cream or dessert toppings, the two of you can't walk into an ice cream parlor without him getting hard anymore. 

Choso

Pet Play

You bought him a collar as a joke, a fun gag that you had seen people doing to their boyfriends online. It had his name engraved into the front and “If lost please return to Y/N” on the back, he put it on without hesitation and hardly ever takes it off now.

It’s hidden under the high collar of his shirt most of the time but if the fabric slips down he has no issues with others seeing it, he’s proud to belong to you. 

This man worships the ground you walk on, he will crawl to you anytime any place the second you ask him, he’s got no trouble getting down on all fours for you.

After the two of you really get into it, you buy him a leash and it’s used at home more often than it's not. 

Pegging 

He loves to be inside you but this man lives to be fucked by you. He was tentative at first when you brought it up but enjoyed it so much more than he thought he would. He just loves to see you happy. 

Back into the pet play he loves it when you leash and fuck him, bent over a table or any surface for that matter with your thighs slapping into the back of his while he feels the collar branding him as yours gets yanked, euphoria. He loves to be dominated by you in every way. 

Biting/Blood Play

He is all in all submissive to you but he loves to bite, in your inner thighs when he’s eating you out, your neck, your shoulders, anywhere his mouth can reach he is sinking his sharp canines into your flesh.

He bites so hard and often abuses a spot causing it to bleed, giving him an excuse to lap the blood up, he adores the taste of every part of you and will do everything short of devouring you. 

He loves to kiss you with your blood on his lips, he loves to see himself in a mirror with your blood on his mouth. He sees something so innately romantic about you, someone who does not have such control as he does over his blood, allowing him to take part in such a vital part of your living.

Megumi Fushiguro

DIY Porn

It wouldn’t seem like it but this man loves to make home videos. 

Not all the time but often enough it’s not uncommon for him to have a camera in one hand while he’s pounding into you. The focus being on your face and on your tits as they bounce around from him railing you. 

Absolutely carried a nude photo of you around in his wallet, he needs it for motivation he says. He “loses” the photo sometimes and has to take a new one of you, though you know he’s got them all stuffed in his bedside drawer. 

Public Sex

Dragging you into bathroom stalls, random alleys or  photo booths. There's something that just gets him going about having you in places he’s not supposed to.

He’s dragged you off off random trails in forests just to pull your pants or skirt down so he can fuck you up against a random tree. 

Loves to do it places the two of you frequent often so he can lean over and whisper something along the lines of, “Do you remember the pathetic noises you made for me in that photo booth over there.”

Mirrors

He has two large mirrors in the bedroom one up against the wall and another that he’s hung up on the ceiling above your bed.

You look so pretty when he’s fucking you and sometimes he wants you to see it in real time. 

“You look so good for me, look at your pretty fucked out face for me baby can’t you see why I love it so much?”

Enjoys seeing you from all different angles when he’s inside of you. 

Toji Fushiguro

Breeding Kink

This man loves making kids (just not taking care of them)

Obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant, even if it takes a little while. The idea of seeing you waddling around filled with his child makes him crazy. He just wants an excuse to dote on you “For the baby” when it's really about you.

Blindfolding

Obsessed with slipping something around your eyes, even if it's just throwing his t-shirt on your head (you know he would)

Loves to see how your body reacts to his touch when you cant see whats coming, every twitch or tensing of your muscle he enjoys the element of surprise.

Licking/Spitting

Loves to lick you all over, not just your pussy, his mouth visits all areas of you when it can. Long stripes up from your navel to your neck, down your back and thighs he loves seeing you covered in his spit.

Grabbing your face to spit in your mouth is one of his favorite things to do, he loves how pretty you look with your mouth wide open waiting for him and he makes sure to let you know it. 

Satoru Gojo

Daddy Kink

“Daddy's Home”

Asked you to call him Daddy once as a joke and got hard immediately after you did it, didn’t stop asking until it became a habit of yours.

It melts him, whatever you need the second the word slips out of your mouth he can’t help but give you whatever you want. 

Breeding Kink

The second he saw you one of his first thoughts was how good you would look with his baby inside of you.

Going hand in hand with the Daddy Kink, he really does want to be a father.

He needs an heir, he loves to tell you that as he’s pumping in and out of you for hours on end his endless stamina turning you into a tearful overstimulated mess. 

Absolutely loves to see his cum dripping out of you, it just gets him hard all over again, going round for round until there's nothing left of him to spill into you.

Oral

This man loves it when you suck his dick, his ego is massive and it only goes straight to his head.

He loves seeing you on your knees in front of him, slurping on his cock and moaning around it. 

“You like that? Daddy tastes good doesn't he?” 

Constant Verbal Praise from him but especially when your mouth is on him, you just look so pretty he can't help but tell you. 

Suguru Geto

Impact Play 

He loves to spank you, he loves leaving big red handprints on your ass. 

Whips, Paddles, you name it he’s used it on you. Even more than your moans he loves how you yelp when he strikes you.

He always makes a point to take care of you afterwards, he can be a bit cruel to you during sex but aftercare is a priority making sure to massage your raw skin and let you know how much he loves you. 

Toys

He loves experimenting with new toys, he’s got an extensive collection to use on you and he adores seeing how you react to new things. 

You came so hard around him once while he was holding a vibrator up to your clit that he has one readily available for the two of you at all times.

Shower Fucking

Showering or bathing together is a must for him, it allows him to not get lost in his thoughts only being able to focus on you. 

He loves seeing your skin glistening from the water and soap, how pretty you look with your hair plastered to your skin. 

Theres just something about rubbing a soapy rag or lofa on your back as he fucks into you the wet sound of your skin slapping together mixing with the noise from the shower that drives him wild. He loves to take care of you in more way than one.

Kento Nanami

Cockwarming

This man needs to have his dick inside you whenever it can be there.

He’s a busy man, sometimes when it’s just the two of you alone and he needs to continue his work he will pull you into his lap and sink his cock up into you, using one hand to pet your hair and back while the other continues to write on whatever paperwork needs completing.

Loves to sleep with his dick in you, with you on top of him, your head on his chest. He knows you’re there as close to him as you can possibly be. 

Thigh Riding

He loves to be fully clothed, button up and slacks in tack with you naked on his lap chasing your own pleasure with his body. 

He needed to start doing his own dry cleaning after a while because there really was no explanation for some of the stains on his pant legs. 

He loves to praise you, call you loving names, just stroking your sides and back while he watches you rut yourself on his thigh. 

Roleplay

Loves seeing you in little costumes that he’s bought for you, doctor/nurse, teacher/student, etc. If theres an outfit for it he’s bought it for you so he can fuck you in it. 

There’s no aspect or roles in life that he doesn't like imagining the two of you together in, he's unabashedly smitten.

Toge Inumaki

Dirty Talk/Degradation 

Adores it when you talk dirty to him, he can’t fill the space with words so he loves when you do it. 

Loves it when you call him names, yes he is your whore what about it? 

He is in love with the sound of your voice, if you’re chatty he can just sit there and happily stare at you while he listens to anything you're saying, just you speaking even if it's about something completely random can get him hard.

Face Riding

If you don’t climb on his face to let him eat you out he will pull you onto it, he’s adept at using his tongue and he wants to show you.

This is not a man that wants you to hover, sink your full weight onto him; he can handle it. There's nothing he wants more than to have your pussy on his face grinding on him while he laps his tongue up into you. 

Yuta Okkotsu

Mommy Kink

Slipped out of his mouth in casual conversation once, while you were handing him a glass of water or some other domestic act. He had been thinking of it in his head for a while, apparently too much since it slipped out without him hardly noticing until you said something.

“Thanks Mommy.” “What was that honey?” “Oh- I- Uh I said thanks…” 

You love it, you coo over him and tell him it's alright and he falls into the habit hard, even calling you out in public in front of other people. He’s got no shame in your relationship as long as you’re happy with him, you’re the only one who really matters anyways. 

When the two of you are having sex he absolutely whines it out, mixed in with his breathy moans

Boobs… Tits if you will 

Anything to do with them, he is obsessed. 

Most predominantly he loves sucking on them, whether you're on top of him grinding down onto his cock or if you’ve allowed him on top for a change he’s got his mouth attached to one of your nipples sucking on it.

Even when the two of you are not having sex he loves his head to be near or in them, often coming up to you for hugs just for the excuse to stick his face right into your chest. 

Praise Kink

Please tell this man what a good boy he is, he needs it.

“Mommy’s Good Boy” “My sweet Yuta” he will do anything to hear you praise him, he only acts with more fervor when you do.  

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Ran out of image spaces on the post so yall get a dotted line xD

First thing Ive written in a WHILE hope yall enjoyed \\ I intend to make a post for female characters as well but if you guys have any specific requests for females/males I did not include let me know!