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forest-hashira · 2 days ago

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Keeping Warm

having now recovered from writing smut back in september, i am back with more demon slayer smut! partially joking but writing smut really does take more out of me which is why this one took so long to come out. this is my promised second entry for my autumn leaves anniversary event, which is still open if you would like to contribute something! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy 💜 also big thanks to @awkwardchick87 for beta reading this for me!

event masterlist | read on ao3 | wc: ~2.6k | cw: obamitsu x gn/afab reader (female anatomy but gender neutral pronouns), undefined but implied established relationship, cockwarming, orgasm delay/denial, oral (reader receiving), making out, cowgirl position, slight sub iggy/dom mitsuri (not too heavy tho), creampie

Obanai had never been fond of cold weather. Much like his scaly companion, he preferred the warmth of spring and summer, and spent as much of his time as possible indoors during the fall and winter. If there was a chill in the air, it would cut straight through to his bones, no matter how many layers he wore. He never mentioned it to anyone else, knowing there was little that could be done about his difficulty regulating his own body temperature, but as soon as both you and Mitsuri had wormed your way past his defenses, the two of you has picked up on it, and did everything you could to keep him warm.

Which, he supposes, is how you all wound up the way you were now.

The temperature had dropped before the sun had set, and he had barely finished lighting his fireplace when he heard Mitsuri calling out for him.

“Obanai!” she’d chirped, grinning brightly when he came to the door to greet her. She’d held a thick blanket in one arm, her other hand holding yours. You’d offered the serpent hashira a pleased smile as well, just as happy to see that he was, in fact, home.

“Hello, Mitsuri,” he’d replied, smiling behind his bandages. He’d greeted you, too, then tilted his head slightly. “Not that I’m not happy to see the two of you, of course, but can I ask what brings you to see me this time?”

“We know you don’t like the cold,” you’d explained. “We wanted to make sure you stayed warm tonight.”

He hadn’t thought much of the way Mitsuri’s eyes glinted when he’d invited the two of you in, assuming she was just excited about having a sleepover with you and him, since those didn’t happen exceedingly often, given your positions in the corps.

Now he was wondering if he should’ve read into that glint a bit more, since she was straddling him as he laid on his back on his futon, you sitting by his head. Clothes had been discarded quickly, so you and Mitsuri were entirely bare, and the only thing Obanai still wore was his bandages.

“We’ll keep you warm, ‘nai,” the love hashira cooed, rolling her hips against his, and he let out a shuddering breath, his hands gripping lightly at her thighs. She paused at the touch, tilting her head slightly. “Wait until you’re given permission, love.”

“Apologies,” he murmured, releasing his hold on her, instead digging his fingers into the futon beneath him.

“All is forgiven,” Mitsuri assured him, slowly beginning to roll her hips again.

Your fingers glided across his forehead, gently brushing his hair from his eyes, and you smiled at him when he looked up at you. “Can I take these off?” you asked quietly, fingers ghosting down his cheek until they reached the edge of his bandages.

There was the tiniest moment of hesitation – less than a second, really – before he nodded. “Yes,” he breathed, remembering that Mitsuri liked when he said the words aloud. “Yes, you can take them off.”

With nimble fingers, you delicately unwound the bandages from the lower half of his face, setting them off to the side. As always, you were careful not to touch his scars; he was comfortable enough to allow you and Mitsuri to see them in private, but he still didn’t like them to be touched. “Stunning as always, ‘nai,” you said, giggling softly when his face darkened with a blush at your words.

The sound of your laughter sent his heart fluttering, and he smiled slightly back up at you. He still found himself flustered whenever you complimented him, but he never argued, even if he disagreed with your words; how could he, when your eyes always shone with genuine, eager affection?

Mitsuri shifted her weight slightly from her position atop the serpent hashira, and he gasped, his hips bucking the tiniest bit with surprise. Knowing the movement was unintentional, the love hashira chose not to chastise, instead grinning down at him. “Someone’s eager,” she teased, a small laugh tumbling from her lips at the way the older man’s blush spread from his face down his neck to his chest.

“Looks like you’re warming up,” you said, a teasing lilt to your words as well. As you spoke, you carded your fingers through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Just as you knew would happen, the touch sent a shiver through the serpent hashira. “Or maybe not.”

With an exaggerated pout, you looked back up at Mitsuri. “Looks like he’s still cold, ‘Tsuri.”

She fake pouted right back at you. “Well we can’t have that, now can we?” Her gaze dropped to Obanai’s, and she tilted her head slightly. “Do you need more to stay warm?”

“Please,” he answered, nodding eagerly. “Yes, please, Mitsuri.”

Her peridot eyes flashed. “Well, when you ask so nicely…”

When she stopped the slow rolling of her hips, Obanai almost whined, staring up at her pleadingly; you knew from experience he was mere moments away from openly begging, if the love hashira decided to push him even just a tiny bit more. He was in luck this time, though, and she had mercy on him. She raised herself off of him slightly, just enough to wrap her fingers around his hard cock.

He barely stifled a gasp at her touch, and when she began to sink down onto him, his eyes rolled back in his head. The feeling of being inside of either of you was something he knew he would never take for granted; the warmth and intimacy of it was too precious to him. It took him a few moments to catch his breath once Mitsuri was fully seated on him, the heat of her almost unbearable, while somehow also being exactly what he needed.

The love hashira sat perfectly still atop the serpent hashira, watching as he fought to compose himself once again. She could be patient, and she knew you could, too; besides that, this was far from the first time the three of you had done anything like this, and Obanai had proven each time that he was more than capable of being obedient and taking direction. There was no doubt in her mind that he would manage it again this time. When she saw his two-toned eyes flutter open once again, she smiled down at him.

“‘Nai,” she cooed, slowly trailing her fingers up his stomach and chest, delighting in every minor jump and twitch of his muscles beneath her touch. “You’re doing so well… Can you do something else for me?”

“Anything,” Obanai replied, almost before Mitsuri finished speaking. He was willing to do anything she asked of him, even if all it earned him was a smile. The same went for how he felt about you; maybe holding the two of you so close to his heart would only cause him pain one day, but for now it only brought him peace, so he would make no effort to change how he felt.

Mitsuri’s smile inched closer to a smirk. “I want you to make them feel good.” Her eyes darted up to your face for a moment, though his stayed locked on her.

“How?”

“With your mouth.”

Finally, he tipped his head back slightly to meet your gaze, his pupils blown wide. “I would be honored to pleasure you that way,” he told you, almost reverently.

His words had heat pooling in your gut, and you swallowed thickly. Even if you hadn’t already known how skilled he was with his tongue, you wouldn’t have been able to deny him when he looked so beautiful when he asked. You nodded in response, not quite able to find your voice in the moment.

“Thank you,” he murmured, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. His eyes never once left your face, and the feeling of his lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t keep him waiting,” Mitsuri told you, a faint edge to her voice – not sharp, but motivating nonetheless.

Never one to disagree or deny yourself pleasure from either of your lovers, you carefully pulled yourself away from Obanai, shifting so you were hovering over his face, facing the love hashira. You didn’t lower yourself to be within his reach, though; Mitsuri was still calling the shots, after all.

Obanai felt his mouth begin to water as he looked up at your pussy, so close yet still so far away. He flexed his hands against the futon, eager to devour you but doing his best to be patient.

Apparently getting a thrill from the control she had over the two of you, Mitsuri sat in silence for a moment, simply looking you over, before she said, “You can touch them now, ‘nai.”

The serpent hashira barely remembered to thank her before he locked his arms around your thighs and dragged you down to sit on his face, his mouth already open and eager to please. The first taste of you on his tongue had him moaning against you, and you gasped at the vibration against your cunt.

“Fuck,” you breathed, one hand going to Obanai’s abdomen to steady yourself, the other landing on Mitsuri’s shoulder. You met her gaze, and the heat that had risen to your cheeks spread a bit further when you saw the glint in her eyes.

“He’s quite good at that, isn’t he?” she asked, somewhat teasingly. As she spoke, one of her hands pushed your hair away from your face before coming to cradle your burning cheek. “Feels like he’s keeping you nice and warm, too, hm?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, lashes fluttering a bit as you felt Obanai trace a pattern across your clit. You couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but if you’d asked, he would have admitted it was his name; an invisible mark stating that you were his as much he was yours and Mitsuri’s.

“Good,” she murmured, smirking slightly as she pressed her thumb to your bottom lip for a moment. When your lips parted slightly at the touch, she pulled you into a kiss.

Her lips were soft and plush against your own, and in mere seconds you found yourself being devoured from both ends, completely at the mercy of your two ravenous lovers. Your grip on her shoulder tightened as you moaned against her, reciprocating the kiss as best as you were able.

It wasn’t long – an embarrassingly short amount of time, in fact – before your legs were shaking around Obanai’s head. “‘Tsuri,” you whimpered, breaking the heated kiss in an attempt to catch your breath. “I— ah! —I’m close.”

“Already?” she asked, a teasing edge to her voice. When you nodded, she tilted your chin up slightly to meet her eyes again. “I know you’ve earned it,” she added, glancing down at the man beneath you for a moment. “But do you think he has?”

“Uh-huh,” you answered immediately. “He’s— fuck — making me feel s-so good.” With practically every breath, small moans and whimpers slipped from your lips, and if the serpent hashira’s hold on you had been any less secure, you’d have been grinding down on his tongue, eagerly chasing your release.

Mitsuri seemed to brighten a bit at that. “Good, I’m glad. You deserve to feel good, love.” She grinned when the pet name had you practically melting for her, and she pressed another quick kiss to your lips before turning her attention to her other partner.

“‘Nai,” she said, tracing a fingertip lightly down his torso. “Once you make them cum, I’ll let you cum, too.” She punctuated her words with a roll of her hips, promising so much more once he did as he was told.

The action drew a loud, wanton moan from the man, which in turn had you gasping and dropping your hand from Mitsuri’s shoulder, leaving both hands now braced against his stomach. He tightened his grip around your thighs, pressing you as close to him as he could as he increased his efforts.

When he shifted his head slightly and pressed his tongue into you, not giving you a moment to adjust to the feeling before he was fucking you relentlessly with it, you cried out. The sheer amount of pleasure coursing through your body at that moment had you trembling from head to toe, but it wasn’t quite enough to tip you over the edge. You squirmed the tiny amount you were able in his hold, trying to get some sort of stimulation to your clit.

Thankfully, Obanai seemed to get the message, and he loosened his hold on you with one arm. It allowed you to shift a bit more, but the movement wasn’t really necessary once his fingers found your clit. He rubbed quick, almost aggressive circles on it, matching the insistent pace of his tongue inside you.

“Oh fuck!” you wailed as your orgasm crashed over you, your head dropped forward to rest against your pink haired lover’s chest. Despite having brought you to your peak, your raven haired lover showed no signs of letting up, still devouring you as if his life depended on it.

“Looks like you’ve earned your reward,” Mitsuri mused, beginning to rock her hips, giving Obanai the pleasure she’d promised him.

It quickly became apparent to you that she was eager for release, too, because within just a few minutes she was fully lifting herself up and down on his cock, little sounds of pleasure slipping from her every time their hips made contact. Managing to come back to yourself a bit, you lifted your head from her chest, dipping in and taking one of her pretty pink nipples into your mouth and sucking hard, the way that always made her whine and plead for more.

“Oh, yes, keep doing that,” she gasped, beginning to pinch and tug the other nipple herself. The more stimulation she got there, the louder she moaned and whined; she’d always been sensitive there, and you loved the reactions it would pull from her.

When she grew closer to her orgasm, she went back to simply rolling her hips and grinding down on Obanai’s cock, chasing the pleasure she knew awaited her. You decided to take advantage of the change in her movements, reaching between her legs to play with her clit. You were drawing close to another orgasm yourself, and you wanted desperately for all three of you to cum together.

She gasped, crying out your name as she fell apart, riding Obanai even harder to bring him to the heights of pleasure, too. It didn’t take long for him to get there, if the moan he let out against your pussy and the gasp Mitsuri gave were any indication. The vibration of his moan was enough to send you toppling over the edge again, a shuddering, breathless moan escaping you as you released Misturi’s nipple from your lips.

The three of you took a moment to catch your breath, not bothering to move from your positions at first. Eventually, though, both you and Mitsuri crawled off of the serpent hashira, one of you lying on either side of him and curling up as close to him as you could. After a moment, Mitsuri reached behind her, fumbling a bit until she found the blankets, including the extra thick one she’d brought with her. She pulled them over the three of you, and you let out a soft sigh of relief. Obanai wrapped his arms a bit tighter around the two of you, and you eagerly pressed further into his space – you were there to keep him warm, after all.

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h-didanart · 2 months ago

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GUYS—

GUYS HELP—

ITS TAKING OVER—

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Anyways—

So I’ve been listening to the Circe Saga in Epic the Musical for a while, I actually got the idea of giving Bloody and Harvest magic out of it, but that wasn’t enough, I had to go further

So now they are the God of Sorcery or something, look I’m just having fun here—

K, so they have an island to themselves, and they have a lot of magic and are cool, and they look after nymphs and stuff, and they turn anyone who tries bothering them into pigs. I think the Ancient Greek setting would change their backstory a bit but not by much, they probably wouldn’t almost die, but y’know, they’ve still had to deal with shitty stuff, which would actually lead to even more motivation on their end to protect those they care for. They have flower tattoos around their legs because I kinda just felt like drawing flowers and I’m pretty sure that that flower in specific represents strength and healing, and it also helps with insomnia I think. As for the scorpion imagery I chose it because of a kinda joke that’s supposed to be in the au where they choose to have a different day as their birthday and Bloody wants to be a Scorpio because scorpions are cool, and I looked up the symbolism and there’s some rebirth and life//death and change stuff which I think fits them (I am actively choosing to ignore the other potential symbolism, please don’t look it up I’m so sorry my boys 😭) And I like to think they’d use shadow and ice magic because of 1) conquer your fears /literal and 2) as a treatment for their overheating problem

I really like this silly variant, they’re cool

Oh and, uh, about ‘There are other ways’, uhm

Yeah that’s how they were gonna deal with that, cool

#the art demons won #silly stuff #epic the musical reference #Greek au?#idk i’m just having fun #sams au #sams bloodmoon #tsams bloodmoon #Quiet Throes in Pooling Oil #thought about them a bit more #I think the overheating would happen because of scars they have that just won’t go away #the scars would be in their thighs and hips and would be from you-know-what #so they’d usually keep the palace at cool temperatures #they 100% intended to kill whomever-is-Odysseus but were kinda cut off by whomever-Odysseus-is going in a tangent about their wife #also they probably have a couple gardens around the island they like to tend to #also also they would not be above killing the ‘pigs’ and feeding them to whomever comes knocking at their doors #oh god is this an au now?#i can’t keep doing this #what should we call them chat?#Circe Bloodmoon? Greek God Bloodmoon?#ugh #it’s too late for this #flowy fabrics are fun

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silverskyeline · 3 months ago

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'look at me' 18+

oneshot - logan can't fuck like he used to, but you don't care. you get on top, gladly taking care of him in return. (2k words) pairing - logan howlett (logan 2017) x gn!reader tags: pre-established relationship, doggy style, penetration, dom!logan, reader rides logan, filthy talking logan, he talks you through it, rough, praise kink, cursing, mutual orgasm, choking, 'use your words', unprotected sex, creampie, sweet ending

logan can't keep up like he used to, but he still fucks you like a man possessed when he's able, like a rabid animal - hips bucking, muscles flexing, baring his teeth as he takes you.

his rough, calloused and scarred hands grip your waist, contrasting against your soft skin. that veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, just like you wanted.

moments before, you'd teased him for the tent in his blue jeans. logan had cocked a smirk, that same signature smirk that always renders you weak at the knees as he began unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. you would wait, he knew you'd wait, you were good for him like that. the distinct sound of the clinking metal and the unsheathing of leather caused a shiver to run down your spine, a throbbing in your core. you needed him just as much as he needed you.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it wasn't fair, how he could tell as soon as he entered a room just how much you wanted him. he could smell it, smell your arousal clear as day, he'd teased you about it so many times. the scent fills his mind every time, makes his cock twitch in his boxers, the need to have you almost overwhelming.

your soft wanting moans drift to his ears, one of his palms sliding up to the base of your spine as he keeps you firmly bent over on the bed, fucking into you with purpose. rough grunting spills from his lips, your head turning to catch his eye, watching as beads of sweat form on his forehead. chest rising and falling, logan grits his teeth.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he grunts, his sentence punctuated with a particularly harsh thrust that knocks the wind from both of you, "you wanted my cock? hm? just couldn't fuckin' help but tease and tease. . ."

you whine, gripping the sheets in front of you as the room fills with the lewd sound of skin on skin. he always liked it rough, plus - you'd known logan long enough to know how he liked to channel his anger into sex. and he was fucking good at it. you'd take it, again and again, as harsh as he wanted to give. because you knew that as soon as you were done, he'd be scrambling to pepper soft kisses along your neck, praising you for how good you'd been for him.

his thrusts falter, and you reach back to take his wrist in your hand in a comforting gesture. the harsh panting tells you all you need to know, his grip on you fading. but it's alright, you know how to take care of him, too. you tug at his wrist and after a brief moment of hesitation, he pulls out and lays beside you, looking almost defeated.

your hips find their home atop his and you nestle against him, slowly grinding back and forth on his length. his hands immediately search for your thighs, pawing at the flesh as he looks up at you. you drink in his expression, the way he's looking at you through his heavy eyelids, his scarred, sweaty bare chest rising and falling harshly.

"let me take care of you. . ." you whisper, your hands sliding up across the feverish skin on his chest, threading through the hair that grows there.

he licks his lips, attempting to protest "but i-"

"shhhh. . ." you shake your head, inching upwards to brush his leaking tip against your entrance and he hisses at the contact, "i said let me take care of you. . ."

you sink down on his cock, gasping as he fills you once more - at this point, you've memorised every vein on that thing. you love how he fills you so completely, how you almost, almost struggle to take him in all the way.

"fuck. . ." he huffs, his eyes fluttering shut as he grasps your thighs, sinking into the bed. he hates it, hates how fucking tired he gets nowadays. but damn if you don't look like the prettiest little thing bouncing on his cock like that.

and you want to comfort him, to let him know that it's okay. you'd ride him every night if he'd let you, but he always insists that he can do it, that he can still go as hard and as fast as he used to all those years ago. fast or slow, it didn't bother you, as long as you had logan, you'd be happy, content with even a passing glance from him in your direction.

"look so pretty up there. . ." he coos breathlessly, watching you bounce, his hand snaking up to rest on your stomach as he admires you.

you moan, tilting your head back - and he groans in response, dick twitching desperately, aching to fill you as his hips buck against your movements. he loves watching you ride him like this, watching as you take control, set the pace you want.

the rough hand on your stomach drifts upwards, finding its home around your neck, gently still. but even the soft grip has you reeling, gripping his wrist. you know he still wants to feel some control, that it wasn't because he was losing energy that he was on his back, no. . . it was a choice.

and you indulge him, working down over his cock with your tight hole, clamping around him as your hips meet his over and over. he's groaning, grumbling, eyes fluttering shut as he's lost in the way you take him.

"logan, look at me. . ." you whisper pleadingly, nails digging into his chest, fingertips tracing across the scars there.

immediately his eyes open to lock onto yours, and when he sees you? fuck, he needs more. he uses his grip on your throat to pull you down into a deep kiss, breathing heavily through his nose as his tongue delves into your mouth. you love how much more experienced he is than you, how he makes quick work of you every fucking time, has you a mess for him, opening up to him in every way you can.

"yeah. . . that's it. . ." he grumbles against your lips, kissing you with a fierce passion that borders on animalistic between words, "keep workin' that cock, keep bouncin', you're doin' so well."

you clench around him at those very words, unable to even think straight with his tongue shoved into your mouth and his cock stuffed deep inside you. he's taking you in every way you'll give yourself to him. even with him on his back and with half his energy he's still able to have you squirming.

and the praise, the fucking praise. logan knows just how to talk to you to make you melt. he'll fuck you roughly, desperately pumping his dick into you whilst whispering that you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen into your ear. he'll have you split in half with his thick arms hooked around your legs whilst telling you that you're so good for him, calling you sweet pet names that contrast his rough movements.

that voice of his, gravely, deep, rumbling. you can't think straight when he talks to you this way.

"such a sweet little thing," he groans, his hand on your thigh snaking around to give your ass a quick slap before grabbing a handful. light work for him considering the size of his hands - don't even get him started on what he likes to do with those. . .

you call his name, whimpering against his lips as you try to keep up with his kisses all while riding him. your mind is blank, slamming your hips down against him as he bucks up, meeting your thrusts - sending him deeper and deeper.

his hand on your neck traces along your skin to grip the back of your head, feeling as his digits spread across your scalp. "fuuuuuck," he groans, "can feel how tight you are, you're gonna cum, huh?" logan asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement. he knows your body better than you do.

you nod, whimpering pathetically, inches from his lips.

eyes darting from your mouth, up into your gaze, he grins, "use your words, c'mon. i asked you a question."

"yes logan, yes, fuck- i'm gonna cum!" you cry out, tilting your hips as you chase that high he wants to give you.

with his mouth open, he pants, watching you above him with a keen fascination as your face contorts in pleasure. slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. his favourite thing in the world is to watch you come undone around him, the way your eyes roll back, your pulse quickening under his fingertips.

"c'mon, c'mon, c'mon. . ." he growls, rutting into you from below, feeling as you spasm around his hard, girthy length, "if you cum, i'll cum nice and deep inside you, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"logan. . ." you whine, a clear yes. your head dips down to press against his shoulder, unable to keep yourself upright with the intensity of it all.

he chuckles and it's like music to your ears, loving those rare little noises of his - treasuring the sounds he makes while enjoying you.

both hands are back on your hips now, guiding you, slamming you down onto him as you gasp with each thrust, "c'mon. . . give me what i want, what we both want - make a mess for me."

his words hit you like a command, a call to arms - you will cum for him, make a mess of him and his sheets. you're calling his name into the skin of his neck as you cry out, feeling the orgasm beginning to tear through you.

and he can feel it, feel how you convulse and clamp down on his dick, causing him to gasp. he's moaning, groaning, words catching at the back of his throat as he tries to continue to talk you through it - but he can't. you're fucking him too good, he's gonna cum too.

ropes and ropes of white hot cum fill you, pushed deeper and deeper by his faltering thrusts as his dick twitches with each spray. you gasp, writhing against him as he holds you firmly in place, pulling you down one last time and holding you there as he empties into you completely.

you're whimpering, whining, body jerking as the intensity increases as you roll your hips, riding out the last of your orgasm until you're both left a panting, sweaty mess.

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers into the air, closing his eyes to centre himself, world spinning.

meanwhile, you can't even talk, can't even think about forming words, mind instead occupied with feeling his hot cum dripping out of you.

logan pets the back of your head, stroking your hair gently in an attempt to help you come back into the moment. he wants to thank you, but that's never been his strong suit. instead, he kisses the crown of your head, peppering kisses down along your forehead as he hooks his thumb and forefinger under your chin to bring your face closer to his.

he looks into your hazy, exhausted eyes, his own gaze full of love and appreciation. this is what he lives for - watching you bathe in the afterglow, being lucky enough to look into your eyes every day, being blessed enough to have you here like this.

you greet him with a sleepy, almost bashful smile.

he smiles too, and god, butterflies blossom deep within your stomach. you love him, you love him tired, you love him angry, you love him grumpy, you love him on his back, on top - whatever, you just love him.

"you're too good for me," he whispers as his lips find your forehead once more.

you know those words are his way of saying thanks, but you shake your head in protest, "stop that, not another word."

logan looks into your eyes, really looks at you, those soft hazel hues meeting your gaze. he simply smiles in silence as his hand drifts to your cheek.

the room falls into a comfortable silence, and you wonder how logan ever let you this close. but you don't care, all you care about is taking care of him.

and you will, for as long as he lets you.

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gamblersdoll · 9 months ago

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so sukuna usually goes for a woman who holds her own in a fight. its believed that he was more attracted and would even become a flirt even mid fight…. tw for sexual themes.

so imagine how confused you would be when you are with yuuji in your dorm and having a nice time and sukuna just stares at you through his cheek, somewhat a glare but smile. in confuses you, almost making you tilt your head.

“im going to put a brat in you.” he says, then suddenly leaving the scene, causing you to fret and be on guard anytime and anywhere. and leaving such a frantic and apologetic yuuji.

whats even worse is if your group were to exercise a curse spirit somewhere and its on you and yuuji, sukuna would definitely take the time to potentially force a switch or convince the poor baby to switch. and sukuna is doing his best to try and wound you– youre fast, and you already landed three good blows on him.

but things do come to an end, you being cornered and having to hear sukuna say the most disgusting things.

“you wouldnt be a bad wife, could make you have at most two brats.” or holding you while you squirm, groping at a fat breast and squeezing, hoping you dont moan. and he goes “these things dont hold you back? i just wanna bite into them… would taste so good.”

it also occurs when you sleep too. the intoxicating feeling of his fingers are still on your skin, he had to be an incubus. but you were suddenly dreaming about him eating your precious fat pussy too, suckling on your clit and have two hands hold your hips down, two hands hold your legs up while he eats you so sloppy. he can always be a messy eater, and he mumbles .. praise?

“havent had good pussy in years.”

“fuck, that brat hadnt eaten you at all ?”

“i demand your cum, i want you to cum.”

and when you wake up your folds are soaked with spit drooling down your ass cheeks. and with your shirt scrambled up and a bra pushed up.. was he in here? was it a dream? you didnt know. why was he so suddenly interested?

its only the next time you saw him, the cut you had given him had scarred up and he smirks at the sight of it. this only caused him to think of little exchanges for you to show yourself raw to him.

“if you land another three blows, ill have you sit on my face.” he said, eyes lidded and his signature grin plastered.

you ended up with a swollen clit, from its poor abuse and with bruised thighs, because he just had to make you sit still while he ate you out.

#jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk leaks #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu itadori #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer

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bi-writes · 4 months ago

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i NEED to know how simon would react to his mail order bride getting all pretty one night.... like maybe the night of their wedding... and she's all nervous because she thinks he expects sex and she's so paranoid about offending him or making the wrong noises or just being a nuisance

mail-order bride

simon and mail order bride did not having a wedding; they are married before they meet. have a peek into their first evening together. (18+)

simon laid your suitcase down onto the floor of his bedroom. you look around anxiously, eyeing the bedroom that is supposed to be your own. there's a king-sized bed in the middle of the room, matching dark-wood nightstands on each side. there's one that's clearly being used, a phone charging there and a half-full glass of water.

there's a dresser on the far wall, littered with picture frames and small trinkets, seemingly from other countries. little russian dolls and different fabrics from different places, wooden elephants and small dishes of wonderful patterns. there's a few drawers open there, and when you make your way closer, you can see it's because they're empty. he must've emptied them out for you to use.

there's one picture frame that's face-down. you pick it up to peek at it, and you smile when you look at the picture there. it's simon and a few similarly-looking people. simon is in uniform, face clear of scars. there's an older woman on one side of him, and then on the other side is a little family of three, a sweet couple and a little toddler on the woman's hip. you put it back down facing up before turning back to your suitcase.

you were supposed to just put your pajamas on. simon had been cleaning up the kitchen, and you figure that meant it was time for bed. you rummage through your suitcase, going to reach for your pajamas when you see the little lingerie set you packed.

it still has the tags on it. it's a red pair of lace panties with a matching bra, complete with little crystal bows and lots of detail. you clutch the lace in your hands, looking towards the door. simon doesn't seem like the kind of man to ask you to do something you wouldn't want to do. but you don't know what his expectations might be. you don't know how he intends his wife to behave.

you stand and take the undergarments with you to the bathroom. you change into them, sliding the pieces on and adjusting them until they fit you nicely. you swallow hard as you look in the mirror, smoothing your hands over your body; your tummy, your thighs, over your breasts. you don't know if he'll even like what he sees. you don't know what he expected you to look like, if he got to choose, if he knows what you are underneath and wanted you because of it or in spite of it.

when you come out of the bathroom, simon is rummaging through one of his drawers. when he turns around to face you, he immediately turns back around.

"fuckin' christ--what the fuck are y'doin'?"

you flinch at the bite of his voice. you wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to self-soothe, your eyes tearing immediately as you take in his reaction.

"i..." you stutter. "i...i-i thought--"

"you thought wot?" he snaps, and when he turns around to come closer, you panic, taking the straps in shaking hands and starting to pull them down your arms for him. "no, fuck, stop that--"

he puts his hands over yours before your breasts can spill out of the bra. he narrows his eyes at you, shaking his head, and you start to cry softly.

"s-simon, i'm sorry--i-i thought--"

"shhh," he shushes you. "just...quiet."

your bottom lip trembles as he takes the lace straps of your bra delicately and brings them back up, smoothing them back onto your shoulders. you close your eyes when he cups your cheeks, big thumbs wiping at your face as he soothes you silently.

when simon emerges in the bathroom, he tries to be subtle as he cups himself through his boxers, sighing deeply as he flicks the light on. he jumps a little as he steps back, the cat sitting on the edge of the sink and staring at him knowingly.

simon gives it the finger before shooing it back outside.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #order up

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martiniluvr · 9 months ago

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18+ minors dni

warnings: overstimulation 🎀

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

jason todd who absolutely cannot handle jealousy. who sees red at the slightest lingering stare from a man at the bar while you’re laughing about something you heard at work. who struggles to contain his urge to maim when some asshole ogles the shape of your thighs in your mini dress. who memorises the number plate of any driver who rolls past with their window down to yell out something obscene about your body, knowing the red hood will be paying them a visit later.

it’s probably the lazarus pit talking, but he knows it would be so easy to shatter every bone in their bodies with his bare hands—and, shit, it would feel fuckin’ great. but he’s promised you he’ll save his anger for the ‘real’ bad guys in gotham, so he settles for the next best option: fucking you so good you can barely remember your own name.

one of his hands gropes at your breasts while the other rubs tight circles on your clit as he ruts into you, the obscene sound of your wetness around his cock sending a chill down his spine. he’s worked three torturous orgasms out of you already—two with his mouth, one with his fingers—and you whine desperately as you feel him going for a fourth. your hands weakly claw at the y-shaped scar on his chest as he angles your hips off the bed, so that every thrust brushes against the sensitive spot in your walls.

he looks down at you with a mixture of pride and ferocity. “what’s the matter? too much for you, ma?” he asks, his voice ragged as he fucks into you. your eyes are watery and you’re reduced to a string of incoherent moans, your walls clamping down on him hard as he speaks. jason smiles wide—that’s all the answer he needs. seeing you gasp and writhe at the sensitivity as your fourth orgasm is forced out of you is enough to confirm what the both of you already know. none of those guys could fuck you like this, baby.

#ik I said send in the dick grayson asks but I had another vision and needed to share 🤞#jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #batman #dc comics #batfam #fem reader #martiniluvr

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risuola · 28 days ago

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FEELIN' LUCKY || GETO SUGURU

Suguru has a reputation of a playboy — and rightfully so. He likes to change girls, bedding them as he pleases. He thinks he can have them all. He's a player, a red flag and you show him he's wrong. It's a story about a boy who has everything but craves to have you.

contains: frat boy!suguru x nerdy!reader, pining, maybe a little slowburn-ish, flirting, smut (unprotected sex, some body worship, mentions of hooking up, booty calls, sexting), wc. 9420 ⋯ reader discretion is advised

kinktober '24 masterlist || art in the header: @/chu-cho on tumblr

Suguru knows how to navigate around the campus. He’s tried all the shortcuts, been on all the parties, talked (and fought) with all the teachers. He’s known around — troublemaker, a frat boy, a heartbreaker. It’s no news to anyone that Suguru Geto is a red flag personified; a ladies’ man, playing with every beauty he deems worthy of attention. And he’s lucky too, girls tend to love him, all of them. After all, bad girls love bad boys and good girls, unfortunately, do too. He’s a flame that attracts all the moths, a sin that tempts and renders every heart helpless. He’s a siren song luring women towards their doom. The ultimate playboy, reveling in the attention he gets everywhere he shows up, soaking it up like a cat basking in the sun.

It’s unfair, he jokes sometimes, when he aims to add another notch to his bedpost. Unfair how easy it is for him to have what he wants, how all that meets his gaze is heart-eyes and flushed cheeks. But he likes it, he likes to take, he likes to be wanted and pick from the crowd. It boosts his ego. He is, after all, drop dead gorgeous. He is, truly, with his long, raven hair and purple glint to his eyes, all surrounded by an air of sexy danger coming from his piercings, his clothes and the way he acts.

“Who’s that?” He wonders, mind rushing through the extensive catalogue of female students he knows. “She’s new.” Clearly. He doesn’t know you yet.

You’re pretty, too pretty for him to let you go just like that. You came to the party at the frat house, but you don’t seem to fit right in. Maybe you’re a transfer student? Or a friend of someone? It doesn’t look like you’re someone’s girlfriend. A man that’s sane would not let you wander around such place alone. Not in that dress. You’re gorgeous, breathtaking. You make Suguru’s heart beat a little bit faster, his pulse quickening and he can hear it in his ears, a steady thump echoing over the sound of music. It’s excitement — something he has not felt in a long time.

His friends say something. He’s not listening, eyes laser focused on you and only you. You move with grace, your hips sway from side to side like a pendulum as you find your way through the crowded living room. Your cup is empty, it’s clear from the way you tap it with your fingernail every time someone tries to stop you — you’re pointing on it, gesturing your intentions as you try to speak over the loud music and blurring chatter. You seem polite too, the way you smile brightens the area. He likes how it reaches your eyes, how your nose scrunches a little and the skin near your temples crinkle. Everything about you is hypnotizing, you know what you’re doing. You have to know what you’re doing. You’re magnetic and he wouldn’t be able to resist even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

You push through the crowd and Suguru follows, a predator stalking its prey. You are, after all, like a sweet little rabbit tonight. His eyes never leave your back, watching the way your hair sways and bounces with each step you take, how the fabric of your dress hugs your delectable curves. You look soft, he’d love to touch you, to squeeze those plush thighs, to feel the pliable flesh of your rear, to have your chest squeezed against the hard planes of his muscular torso. He wonders how soft your skin is under the fabric, if it’s smooth and warm to touch. He wants to find out, to explore every inch of it until he maps out every mole, scar and birthmark. He licks his lips subconsciously, his tongue swiping over the piercing in his lower lip and he wonders if you’d like it — if the cold metal decorating his mouth would be something you’re into.

He catches you in the kitchen. You’re holding a can of strawberry flavored soda and looking around, and he knows what you’re searching for. “Hey there, beautiful,” he greets smoothly, flashing you a smile that’s known for making girls weak in the knees. “Allow me,” he reaches, taking the cold metal from your hands — his fingers brush against yours as your eyes met, the touch lingering a little longer than necessary but he’s content as he swiftly opens the can for you, earning himself a chuckle.

He’s already got you.

“Thank you,” you smile, taking the drink back and filling your cup with the pinkish liquid. It smells sweet, the delicate aroma of artificial fruit breaking through the typical mixture of sweat and alcohol that fills the room. It’s refreshing, the scent, the look of bubbles dancing at the edges of your cup. You take a sip, tasting the flavor on your tongue and he wants to try it too. From your lips, preferably. Those glistening, cherry-colored lips. Oh, you look delectable.

“I’m Suguru,” he grins again, his eyes scanning your breathtaking features and committing the picture to memory. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He already envisions you below him.

“I doubt that too,” you nod and you know he’s attracted to you. It’s clear from the way he looks at you, eats you with his eyes only. Obvious from how his gaze lingers on your lips a little longer than he should but you allow him. You introduce himself too and he repeats, testing the name on his tongue.

“What brings a gorgeous woman like you to our little shindig?” He extends his hand out to shake yours, his thumb brushing over your delicate skin as his touch lingers.

“I got invited by one of my friends but I can’t seem to find her in this crowd. I’m sure she’s having fun somewhere though, it’s alright,” you explain, briefly looking over the students crowded in the main area of the house. Most of them are drunk already despite the quite early hour but you don’t mind it. A frat party is exactly what you expected it to be. “I wouldn’t honestly dare to call this a little shindig.”

Suguru chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Well, I suppose ‘little’ was an understatement,” he grins and sips on his own drink. “How do you like it so far? Do you enjoy the mingling masses and blasting music or maybe I could steal you away? My room is just upstairs.” His eyes flick down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze again, a hint of mischief dancing in their violet depths. One step closer and he’s invading your personal space just slightly. “Because I could show you a good time, if you’d like. Just the two of us, away from all that noise and chaos,” he finishes a little quieter, a little lower. His tone is meant to seduce, to tempt you and he knows it always works. In his mind, he’s already alone with you, he imagines tracing your curves as he trails kisses along your jawline. His touch feels electric against your skin and you have to give him that — he sure does know how to get the attention he wants.

“I appreciate the offer, but I came here for the noise and the chaos,” you reply, smiling as your hand finds his wrist in a gentle caress meant to put some distance between his fingertips and your skin. “It’s not every day I get to attend a party such as this one,” that said, you’re ready to retract when his free hand meets the curve of your hip. You hear a hum and he’s suddenly much closer, you feel his breath on your lips, a mixture of mint and something strongly alcoholic. A little sweet too. A coke, maybe. There’s warmth bouncing off of him, one that you feel tingling on your skin when he leans down to meet your height. The tip of his nose teases yours before it moves to the side, running over the lines of your cheekbone.

“Are you sure?” He asks, smirking as he waits for your resolve to crumble. Not a single girl before you had resisted his charms and you surely are not going to be the first. He enjoys the challenge you present. Most girls would have melted under his touch but you remain composed. He likes that. He likes a woman who knows what she wants. “We could make our own noise, create our own chaos.”

“I’m content with all that’s happening here,” you hum, slipping out of his embrace. “Thank you for the company, Suguru. It was nice to meet you,” and you’re gone.

He stands there, dumbfounded. He stands there, once more looking at your back and he cannot believe what happened. A bunny that slipped from the hands of a wolf, girl that rejected Suguru’s charms, A moth that said no to the flames of his lust. A challenge he’s not going to pass on.

He smirks.

Before, he just wanted to have you.

Now, he has to have you.

And he will do whatever it takes.

Over the next weeks, Suguru has not given up. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, his interest in you hasn’t diminished; if anything, it’s grown stronger with each passing day. He’s determined to unravel the enigma that is you, to uncover the secrets hidden behind your captivating eyes and sweet smile. There’s something about you that made him desperate. A mystery he cannot quite unravel, a puzzle he can’t solve. And he thinks of you. He finds himself lost in thoughts of you more often than he’d care to admit. He spots you around campus occasionally, always looking effortlessly stunning and each time, he feels that familiar pull, that undeniable attraction that draws him to you.

Maybe it’s him, who’s the moth.

He doesn’t like this. How you always brush his advances off, how sweetly you smile while doing so. Every time he wants to touch you, you slip right through his fingers. You have tainted him with longing he has never felt before, you ruined him. He doesn’t want other women anymore, the line of booty-calls and flings blocked and removed from his phone. The nights he spends thinking of you, fucking his fist and swearing to all gods above and below to change, asking for a chance to sink his teeth into you. Because he doesn’t want anyone else. And he doesn’t know what you have done to him.

“Fancy seeing you there,” he remarks, settling himself beside you on the bench outside the library. The afternoon is particularly sunny, warmth caressing your skin as you sit comfortably, engrossed in a book. “Mind if I join you?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for the response, as he leans over to glance at the title of your read. “Ah, philosophy. A deep thinker, huh? I like that.”

“Do you?” You ask, nudging a bookmark between the pages. “You don’t strike me as a philosophical type. You seem to me more of a live-in-the-moment kinda guy.”

He chuckles. “You’d be surprised,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, “there’s more to me than just good looks and undeniable charm. Although, I won’t deny that those are pretty great assets,” he winks playfully. Suguru leans back on the bench, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The ripped, black denim exposes a bit of his thigh, the ink of his tattoos peeking through the dark threads, drawing your attention.

“Oh, the confidence. It’s much more valuable trait than the outside looks,” you hum, leaning against the backrest too.

Geto laughs, a rich, warm sound that carries easily in the quiet outdoor setting. Then, he turns to face you fully, his expression turning serious for a moment. “But you’re right, I’m not usually one for heavy books and deep discussions. I prefer to keep things light and fun.” It’s a confession, he admits to it with a hint of vulnerability that’s quickly pushed behind his typical grin. “Besides, a guy can learn a thing or two from a smart, beautiful woman like yourself.” He flirts, but there’s an underlying sincerity to his words. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Tell me, what’s so captivating about this particular tome? What insights does it hold to have captured your attention so thoroughly?”

“It’s a tale of a man discovering what really matters in modern life, a story of loss and reconciliation. The narrator, whose days are counted due to sudden diagnosis, meets the Devil who offers him an extra day of life in exchange of making one thing in the world disappear,” you explain briefly and he watches your fingers dancing over the front cover of the book, tracing the lines of the simple graphic of a cat. “There comes the question, how do you separate out what you can do without from what you hold dear? I think it’s something we don’t pay much attention to in our lives because we have everything within reach, but what if something just… disappeared? The narrator has to take responsibility for each one of his decisions. There’s no going back, there never will be, once a thing is gone, it’s gone.”

Suguru listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs your words. “That’s quite… It makes you think, doesn’t it?” He muses, nodding slowly. “It makes you wonder what you’d choose to erase if given a chance to live just a day longer.”

“The question of how to decide what’s okay to remove and what’s not is what makes me think the most,” you look up. The day is beautiful today, fluffy clouds travel sparsely over the azure blue sky, the sun warms your skin with its golden rays and the birds sing, hidden within the crowns of the nearby trees. You hear some chatter, somewhere from the distance where other students pass by, you hear the cars that honk impatiently as they stand in the traffic and you hear a dog barking. There’s a park not far away. “Some things that are insignificant to me might be the entire world to someone else.”

“So you think the burden of consequences might outweigh the price of life itself,” he notes, his eyes studying the lines of your profile. Your eyes, reflecting the blue of the sky, your cheeks flushed from the wind and sunrays. He thinks the color of your scarf makes your complexion looks brighter. “I don’t know if I would be capable of eradicating something from the world permanently. At first, I thought it might be easy, just get rid of something small and simple, but then it made me wonder if things I think are unimportant, truly are so.”

Truth is, Suguru doesn’t think he would dwell much about the topic if not you, but he wonders what if. What if he made a decision that would cause a war? Or someone else’s loss? What if a thing that he picks results in him not meeting you?

“That’s what philosophy does to you,” you chuckle, turning your gaze back to him, just to meet his eyes glued to yourself.

“But maybe that’s what makes life worth living,” he turns to you fully, his eyes wondering as he drops his usual playfulness and mischief. “It’s much easier to pretend we have control over our lives and the world around us rather than confront the harsh truth that we are all just tiny cogs in a vas, unpredictable machine. But maybe it’s the uncertainty, the constant surprises, the knowledge that anything can change in an instant what makes the journey worth the effort.”

“Maybe it is,” you nod, taking a moment to let his words sink in. “I wouldn’t expect you to engage in topics such as this. I apologize,” you offer a smile and he melts.

“You know, most people assume I’m just a pretty face. They don’t expect me to have substance beneath the surface,” he muses, his expression turning thoughtful before he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess I do give them the reasons to do so. But I really enjoy talking to you. It’s nice to have conversations that aren’t just surface-level flirting and innuendos. There’s just something about you...” He trails off, reaching out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger against your skin for a moment before falling away. “I like how you challenge me, make me think deeper than I usually do. You are a puzzle I can’t wait to solve.” His gaze locks with yours, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen from him before. “Can I see you again? Like this, I mean. Just talking, getting to know each other better.”

The question hangs heavy in the air as you consider it. You will meet him again, one way or another, somewhere around the campus or at another frat party. You will see him again as he targets another girl, flirting his way into another pair of panties. And you exhale, your lips curving upwards slightly as you lean your head on your fist, elbow on your knee.

“Suguru,” you begin, his name slipping over your tongue with ease you enjoy. But you know better than this. You have seen it all too well how he treats women. “I enjoy conversing with you and if it’s just talk that you want from me, then I will find time to meet you again. But I need you to know that I will not allow myself to be another notch on your bedpost. It’s easy to get swayed by your charms, but I know your reputation and I know it for sure that if I had to give up one thing in the world, it would never be self-respect.”

And he knows for sure that if he had to give up romance for the rest of his life just to have you, he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I don’t want to charm my way between your legs,” he swears, too quickly, too desperate to make himself believable and he groans, annoyed by his own self. He nervously runs his hand through his dark, raven hair. “Just, please, give me a chance. I won’t lie to your face and say that I’m suddenly ready to settle down or that I’m done sowing my wild oats entirely. I know what kind of reputation I have and I can’t deny that I’ve played the field more times than I can count. I’ve earned it fair and square,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. All of the lustful nights flashed before his eyes, the nameless girls, the empty promises and unanswered calls afterwards. All the nudes, all the sexts, all the quickies in the locker rooms and dingy bathrooms. Suguru would give them all away if only earned a chance to be with you. “I want to change. I already started to change. You don’t have to believe me right away, but you are different. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about you. And I won’t lie that I’m not attracted to you physically. That would be impossible. But there’s more to it than that. Something worth pursuing beyond just a one-night stand.”

“And what change are you talking about?” You quiz. “Because as far as I am concerned, I’ve seen you flirting with some girls just yesterday.”

And he winces, unable to deny your accusation. “You’re right, I did flirt with them. It’s become a second nature to me, a habit I can’t seem to break easily.” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair once more, frustrated. “But it didn’t go further than talk. I didn’t… I’ve stopped sleeping around. I blocked and removed all the girls’ numbers from my phone, deleted the pictures I had. Fuck, I even declined an invitation for a party with my pals, for the first time since high school. Look,” he leans in, his eyes locked with yours and his hand finds yours. You feel his thumb rubbing soft circles on your knuckles and you wonder if it’s to soothe you or himself. “Being with you, talking to you… it’s opened my eyes to what I have been missing out on. I’ve spent so long chasing meaningless encounters, never allowing myself to form real connections with anyone and now, I’ve tasted something more substantial and realized just how hollow my previous pursuits have been. I want to do better. For you, yes, but also for myself. I want to prove to you that I’m capable of more than just cheap thrills and empty promises.”

It’s true, everything he says. He is ready to drop the player mask, to shed his frat repute just to have a chance at something real, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his stomach bubble with butterflies. He is ready to say no to easy sex just to fight for your attention, your touch, your heart.

He is genuine, but you just hum, your expression unreadable as you weigh your next words. You like him desperate. You like how his violet eyes sparkle with puppy-like vulnerability rather than a flirty mischief. And he is beautiful, you cannot deny it — a man of impressive built, clad in ripped jeans and leather, heavy boots and a band tee. He looks like he bites, and you know he does. You take in the sight of his piercings, the large gauges, the snake bites in his lower lip, the piercing across the bridge of his nose, right between his captivating eyes and the one right above his left brow. You wonder what kissing him would feel like. Would the metal come in the way? Or maybe it would add to the experience?

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” you sigh. “I will give you a chance if you think you can change. But you’ll need to prove it. Think about it.”

And he did.

The lonely nights he spends at the frat house, laying in bed instead of partying with his friends, he wonders where the path of his change will lead him. What if it’s him, confronting the devil and having a chance to lose himself just to earn a day with you? He thinks he’d take it. He’s sure he would. He flips on the mattress, his eyes squinting as the lights from his phone blinded him with a new message. An unknown number. He opens it, it’s a picture, a bare body that he recognizes by the butterfly tattoo on the ribcage. A nude from one of his exes. She must have gotten a new number because he remembers vividly how he blocked her. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about it, he’d reply with something cheeky, possibly send an explicit picture of himself, maybe set up a meeting or invite her over. His fingers typed the message before his brain managed to intervene and once he hit ‘send’, he cursed out loud.

“Fuck, you idiot!”

A pillow flew across the room as he stared at the ceiling. Would it hurt to go once more with no strings attached? It’s been some time since he’s gotten laid and the vision of tension coming off of him was a temptation beyond measure. But what about you? What about a change he had promised?

Is the change even for him?

Suguru stares at his phone screen, the message he sent glowing mockingly back at him, a shameful reminder of his weak self-restraint. The girl already replied, they always reply so fast, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he fucked up, he knows he shouldn’t have responded. He shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of hooking up with his ex, or any other girl. It goes against everything he told you, everything he promised.

With a heavy sigh, he tosses his phone aside, despite the notifications flooding his inbox. More pictures, the location, the time — an annoying ding makes his blood boil and he groans, burying his face in his hands. He feels conflicted, torn between his desire for physical release and growing feelings for you. He wants to be better, to be the man you deserve, to be the man that deserves you. He wants to prove to you that he’s serious about changing, but old habits die hard. The temptation is still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for a split second of vulnerability.

He tosses and turns in bed. His thoughts race with the pictures of you, his mind replaying every conversation, every shared laugh and stolen touch. He remembers the way your eyes sparkled when you discussed philosophy, the passion in your voice as you told him about the importance of self-respect. He realizes that those moments were more fulfilling than any other fleeting pleasure he’s experienced before.

But he gets up anyway, he pulls up his dark-washed jeans and a hoodie, socks and boots and he’s ready to go. With a jacket grabbed in the hallway and a phone in his hand, he leaves the house. The crisp air of near winter hits him the moment he steps outside, cooling the blood in his veins and clearing his thoughts.

12 unread messages.

He groans again, this time into the nightly silence as he strides through the pavement, legs leading him in the direction of his doom. Suguru slips the earphones in, plays on the music but the melody and lyrics are helpless against the chaos in his mind.

It’s pointless, to resist his own body. He knows it’s pointless, he knows he has control over his legs and deep down he knows he would reject the booty call if he truly wanted. You deserve a better man anyway, not a player that fucks around like it’s a sport. You deserve someone who would worship the ground you walk on, a man of culture and manners with whom you’d engage in long, deep conversations late in the evenings, not a man-boy who cannot control his own dick. But fuck, does he wants you.

He wants you so bad, he wants to be all those things for you. He wants those discussions about philosophy and life, he wants to kiss your knuckles and be the knight in the shining armor, carrying you in his arms and shielding you from the world and assholes such as himself.

He lights up the cigarette, taking a deep breath in and looking up. The night is pretty. Calm. He wonders if you are already sleeping. Or maybe it’s one of those nights that you pull in order to study and secure your grades. The semester just began but he learned it already that you care about your future more than he does about his own. You’re a little nerdy. He thinks it’s cute. He can imagine himself wrapping a blanket around your shoulders when it’s late and carrying you to bed when you’re falling asleep on top of the books and notes. You would fit perfectly in his arms.

“You fucking moron,” he slanders himself quietly, already seeing the motel in front of him. He shouldn’t be there but he moves forward anyway. He knows his ex is already waiting for him, he can tell by the lights in the room they always used to book for the casual encounters. He stops before he enters, giving the smoke few more moments to burn. He can feel it in his lungs, somehow calming as he checks his phone, scrolling through the notifications.

One of the messages is from you.

It’s innocent in the sea of suggestive texts. There’s an apology for the late hour and a book title that you promised to send him a day before. The one you’ve been reading for the last few days and the one that made him rethink his entire life’s choices. There’s not much substance in the message, but it shakes him awake.

The turn he takes is aggressive, it’s resolute. Heavy boots thudding against the concrete panels as he walks away from the motel. ‘Sorry, not coming.’ He sends the message and blocks the number, feeling lighter the second he removes the nude picture and the unwanted contact.

It takes just an hour before he knocks at your door, the dormitory silent in the nightly time so he keeps himself quiet. You open after a long moment, dressed in a make-shift pajama. He likes the way your hair is messy from the pillows, how you smell like vanilla and flowers and coffee. You look so pretty like this, so undone, so unexpecting yet not entirely disappointed to see him. You seem… content?

“Suguru?” His name comes from your mouth and you usher him inside, afraid of someone seeing him. Once the doors shut behind him, your eyes search him for answers.

“Brought you some food, I thought you might need it,” he grinned, showing off the box of pizza and a bottle of soda. “I figured you’re studying tonight and might need some fuel.”

“So thoughtful,” you tease, but the smile that shapes your mouth reaches your eyes, so he knows it’s genuine. He follows you to your bedroom and he’s not surprised seeing the notes all over your bed and scattered on the floor. The papers full of sparsely highlighted knowledge that you want to transfer into your brain take most of the space before you gather them onto a neat pile. He sits right there, on the newly uncovered spot on your mattress. It feels intimate, to be in your room, to rest on your bed, to see you in your pajama. He wonders if you know what the sight of your thighs does to him, the plush, tender flesh begging to be touched, kissed and kneaded. Suguru thinks your skin would look beautiful with bitemarks all over.

“So, pizza,” he clears his throat after letting his eyes linger for way too long on your bare legs. “I took pepperoni, I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” you smile and separate the barely cut pieces for easier access. “I appreciate the thought, really. But there was no need for you to leave the house just to do this.”

“For you, I would do it at every hour,” he says and then sighs deeply. “But truth is, I didn’t plan this.” Suguru feels like he’s inside the confessional. It’s a foreign tension, completely different from the one he felt just hour before. The knot in his stomach has nothing to do with lust and desire and all to do with stress and regret. “I’ve received a booty-call from my ex. That’s why I left the house,” he spats it out quickly, thinking it’ll hurt less if he does it in rush. “I didn’t go there though. I told her I’m not coming, blocked the number and came here instead.”

You stay neutral, chewing on the pizza as your tired eyes size him up. “Old habits die hard, huh?” You mock, slightly amused by his tormented expression. His eyebrow creases before he lets himself drop back onto the mattress, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he covers his face with his hands.

“I meant it. I want to change and I’m working on it.” He says, his voice quiet and devoid of his usual cheekiness. “I fucked up when I entertained the idea of hooking up with a random person tonight but cut me some slack, I didn’t do it.”

“Good boy,” you mock-praise and he groans again, but then his entire body tenses when you lay next to him. He feels your breath against his cheek, the tip of your nose prodding the flesh. He doesn’t move, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Do you regret it? Not going, I mean. Be honest, don’t say what I want to hear.”

“I don’t,” he replies, his tone resolute. “I don’t regret not meeting my ex and not having sex tonight. I was pent up — fuck me, I still am, and when I replied to her text, I didn’t think much about anything except for my dick. But I don’t regret not going because I didn’t want to go. And I’m grateful that you texted me because you reminded me what really is important. Right now, it’s you.”

It makes you smile. He’s torn inside of his mind but you take it as a win anyway. Before, Suguru wouldn’t second-guess pulling his pants down and now you made him think. Now, you made him reconsider; wonder who he is without the façade of the charismatic ladies’ man. He will have to learn to navigate social situations without relying solely on his charm and wit to get what he wants. But he can do this. For you.

Before he speaks again, you’re asleep already. Sideways on the bed, most likely uncomfortable but right next to him and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle in his body. You’re sleeping, your face just an inch from his own. The soft fragrance of your skin fills in his nostrils and not even the smell of pizza nearby can disturb it. There’s a hair somewhere around his face, he doesn’t know if it’s yours or his own, but it tickles his cheek every time you exhale. It’s fine.

An hour passes and he finally gathers the courage to shift, as carefully as he can, he turns to his side, to face you. You’re a vision he takes in with his eyes wide open, committing the picture of your peaceful expression to memory. He likes everything about you, every hair of your eyebrows, every freckle and beauty mark. He likes the way you look so unbothered, so comfortable next to him. He wants to touch you. Oh, how much he craves to caress your cheek, to thread his fingers through your hair. His heart thumps in his chest, reaching speeds matching those of sprinters. The feeling is foreign. Is this…? It cannot be. Suguru Geto is not about… that. His entire life he believed he’s meant to have fun, no strings attached, no responsibilities. What did you do to him?

You move and he stops breathing. It’s an instinct, he thinks, that you shift closer to him, but he tells himself you want that. And you fit so well against his chest, your head below his chin, your hand around his middle. The room spins and he wraps you in the embrace of his arms.

He feels your heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and suddenly, he calms down. It sinks into his mind that it’s where he wants to be. All the years of empty flings, the mediocre orgasms, the shameless pursuits could never compare to the feeling of you in his arms. That’s what he has been missing on. And he will do everything to be the man deserving of you.

Time passes, and Suguru slowly falls into the rhythm of his newfound resolve. It’s easy to decline hookup invitations when he can spend time with you, but maybe he did feel a little too confident when he decided to attend the big, annual party at the frat house. It’s Halloween, after all, how could he not go there when everyone will come? Quickly he falls into familiar routine of charms and alcohol, nursing a beer from a red plastic cup and chatting playfully with attractive attendees. His friends push him towards temptation, inviting more and more girls to the crowd and Suguru feels drawn to the lively atmosphere, the flirtatious banter comes as easy as breathing.

That is, before a pretty sophomore dressed in a devil costume takes a seat next to him — a seat he has kept for you, because you promised you’ll come, despite the need to study. It’s fine if the girl sits there for a moment or two, he thinks, as he engages in a conversation. He knows, it’s as obvious as day, that the second-year beauty is interested in getting into his pants — her hand on his thigh, the fluttering eyelashes and pouty lips say everything about her intentions. As the night progresses, he finds himself more and more… uncomfortable. Surprisingly.

And so, he feels relieved when he sees you in the crowd, late but looking absolutely adorable in your sweet bunny costume. It’s simple yet makes his pants grow tighter as he takes in the way the plain black dress hugs your curves. The fluffy tail bounces with each step you take through the filled living area and the long, pink-lined ears swing just slightly along with your hair whenever you move your head around, looking for something — for him and his heart skips a beat. In that moment, everything fades away — the raucous laughter, the pulsing music, even the sophomore girl next to him.

Excusing himself from company, he forces a smile as he brushes the invasive hand off his thigh and gets up from the sofa, making his way over to you. “Hey there, cutie,” he greets, pulling you into a hug and you melt into his chest in an instant. “Glad you could make it.” He breathes in your scent, letting it calm his nerves but it does little to calm other things down. Fuck, you look perfect.

“How could I miss my favorite frat boy sporting a vampire costume?” You quiz, backing up a little to take in his attire. He’s wearing all black, a dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, pants that make his legs look even longer than they are. His eyes are smudged with little bit of black eyeliner but it works for him, he looks sexy. “Aren’t you a pretty one. I might consider letting you bite me,” you tease, and he knows you’re joking but it doesn’t stop the blood in his body to travel downwards.

“Careful what you wish for, bunny,” he muses, “I might just take you up on that offer and sink my teeth into that delectable neck of yours.” His fingers intertwine with yours as he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he leads your arm up onto his shoulder. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs as he lowers his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He feels you chuckle, your nails scratching at his scalp as you thread your fingers through his dark locks. Once more you proved him that the change is worth it, because it’s you who’s on the line. “Dance with me?” He asks and you move with him towards the makeshift dancefloor.

Suguru pulls you closer as you enter the rhythm of the music, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other twirls you around gracefully. You’re giggling, amused by the undivided attention he pays you — he’s sweet when he has his eyes on the target, when he has to work for something. He dips you dramatically and your hand tighten on his shoulder, but it’s secure, the way he holds you as if he wished to protect you from all the bad in the world. His eyes lock with yours as he pulls you back up, flush against him. The heat radiating off both your bodies mingles together, creating an intoxicating aura that threatens to consume you whole.

You don’t really listen to what’s playing, a melody mellows in the background as his hands trace patterns along your sides and hips, follow the line of your spine, sometimes teasing the fluffy ball that is your tail. His touch ignites sparks wherever he grazes, leaving trails of fire in its wake. He’s hungry, for you, and you are too. It’s hard to deny it any longer and you think that maybe, just maybe he is ready to commit to something more than just a fleeting romance. It’s been months since he began pursuing you and his attention has been focused solely on you, despite the obstacles and temptations of his life. A reward wouldn’t hurt now, would it?

“I need a drink,” you tell him and he’s quick to react, taking your hand and leading the way towards the kitchen. He knows what you like, snatching a can of strawberry soda from the counter. When you nod in approval, he opens it, too hasty, too eager, that he doesn’t realize the way it bubbles over, spilling over the aluminum container and his fingers. Before he can react, your lips are already on his skin, licking away the sticky trail of pinkish liquid.

Suguru freezes as he feels your tongue glide across his skin, tasting the sweetness of the spilled soda. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation, his breath hitching in his throat. Desire darkens his eyes, pupils dilate as he watches, transfixed, how you lick the sugary mess from his fingers. The sensation sends jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He breathes out your name, but you’re quick to shut him up.

You pull him down, your hand in his hair as you press your lips to his own. He tastes the strawberry sweetness of the soda on your tongue as it dances with his own, the flavor mixing deliciously with the taste of you. The dripping can is soon forgotten on the fake-marble countertop as he scoops you closer, arms wrapping around your waist securely. He can feel the heat of your body through the thin fabric of your costume, the softness of your curves molding perfectly against the hardness of his muscles. He’s eager, he moans lightly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. You feel the cold metal rubbing against your face, it’s interesting, it’s addicting. You like it.

“Always wanted to try that,” he pants out when for a moment you pull back. He chases your mouth, hungry for more, desperate.

“The soda?” You ask, pressing soft pecks to his pout.

“You.” He lounges forward once again, unsatiated and you don’t stop him. You don’t hear music anymore, all that’s rumbling in your ear is the sound of your heartbeat. You feel the heat in your veins, the flooding of ecstasy filling your cells one by one. There’s no space left between you, but you take a step forward anyway. You feel his hips rolling, a desperate cry for any sort of friction and when you slip your hand down, palming his groin through his pants, he groans into your mouth as his hips buck involuntarily into your touch. “Please,” he begs, eyes locking with yours as he leans his forehead against your own. He can feel himself throbbing beneath the confines of his pants, straining desperately for more of your attention. “You want me too, please tell me you do. I can’t… It hurts, I crave you so much, it hurts.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur. “Your room is upstairs, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he breathes out. “But I won’t take you there. You deserve better than this place and my filthy bed. Let me take you to my apartment.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and you follow him anyway, your hand incased in his large one, sticky from the spilled soda but none of you seem to care as you saunter through the dancing crowd of young people. Just to get outside.

The walk is a blur, you don’t remember much of it and so does Suguru. The night air is crisp, sending chills down your spine and the boy teases you about it, promising all the warmth he can produce in just few moments. You laugh with him, unbothered by the cool wind that tousles your hair. “It’s just around the corner,” he promises and you hum, matching his pace as he leads you through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. The world blur into nothing, all you see is the man that holds your hand, the blue-ish hint to his hair whenever the lights fall on it just right, the sticky heat of his palm. You can still smell the faint strawberry aroma; you can definitely feel it on your tongue even though you didn’t manage to truly take a sip of it.

And you laugh again when he fumbles with the keys to his apartment. “Nervous?” You tease him playfully. “You have no idea,” he replies, smiling sheepishly and the entry finally swings open. He ushers you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and flicking the lights on.

Suguru wastes no time, pulling you flush against him once more as he presses you against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands roam your body greedily, mapping out every dip and curve, learning the shape of you and you do the same. He shrugs the jacket off and you’re quick to explore the broad lines of his shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. You feel him everywhere, the hungry touch devouring every inch of your form. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down the column of your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin and you whimper breathily — the sound undeniably similar to his own name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him lower as he reaches your chest. His kisses grow more wet and delicate as he meets the soft mounds of your breasts, tightly confined by the neckline of your dress. He breaths in your scent, an intoxicating mixture of sweet and floral. It makes his head spin, it’s addicting. He wants more.

It’s easy to slip the dress off of you — first the straps and then the garment goes down, inch by inch revealing the smooth expanse of your skin to his starved gaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his eyes roaming hungrily over the newly exposed flesh and in that moment he swears he has never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life. His fingers skim along the edges of your bra, tracing the lace delicately before he leans in again, kissing your lips with softness that speaks more than any words could. He wants you, but he wants to worship you. He doesn’t want to make it all about lust and desire, he wants to make it about you and him. About whatever is this feeling that bubbles between you.

And so, he moves down slowly, lips mapping out the curve of your collarbone and down the path to your sternum. His hands follow your curves with gentleness he doesn’t recognize in himself. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hot breath meeting the skin of your stomach, “just breathtaking,” he lowers himself to his knees — something he has never done in his entire life, used to have women at his feet.

“Suguru,” you breathe out but he doesn’t listen. Not when the skin of your thighs feels so soft against his cheeks, not when it tastes so delicious as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the plush flesh. Your fingernails find a way into his hair and he dives between your legs, encouraging one of them to hook over his shoulder. He savors the scent of you, his nose rubbing against the fabric of your underwear, prodding at the little wet patch. He licks it, his tongue flattening over the cotton, catching a hint of your taste — and that’s enough to make him go crazy for you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he breathes out, every exhale that meets the wetness of your panties sends jolts of electricity up your spine and back down to your core. He presses his lips to where he thinks your clit is, you feel him sucking gently and it’s enough friction to feel yourself pulsating. You moan quietly, the sound escaping your parted lips easily as your hold on his hair tightens. There’s no denying that you want him just as much as he wants you. He’s desperate but so are you.

Your knee buckle as he continues the torture and he coos sweetly. “Let’s take you to bed, you sweet thing,” his tone is sugary, a melody dripping with honey as he smiles at you in a way that makes you blush. There’s adoration written all over his face, his cheeks are flushed, lips red and glistening. You want to follow him when he stands up, but he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom. It makes you giggle.

“Practicing already?” You muse and he just smiles.

“Perhaps.”

Your back meets the cold bedspread as he lays you down delicately. No time is wasted before he’s right above you, right on you — you feel the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. No complains about it. He feels good, his hips rolling in a way that has his bulging erection grind along your panties. You hate the fabrics between you two, you hate how they make you feel less of him.

So you move your hands, slide them between your bodies, fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “Impatient much?” He teases, but helps you, pulling the shirt over his head, saving you trouble of the bottom fasteners. His lips find yours in a kiss that burns and you whimper into it, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body.

You reach down. Button, zipper. Your hands tremble as you push the fabric off his hips and he kicks it down. He helps himself with a hand and soon, his pants are on the ground, along with his socks and your bra, that you impatiently toss away. Suguru’s heart rumbles against his ribcage as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. It’s perfect, you are perfect and he cannot believe the luck he has — after years of chasing simple pleasures and meaningless peaks, he had finally found someone he wants to call his.

He feels your heart underneath his cheek as he leans down, inhaling the scent of your skin — his nose trails patterns over the soft flesh before he presses his lips to it, kissing his way towards one of your nipples. It pebbles beneath his touch, hardening as he latches onto it, sucking and teasing it with teeth, twirling his tongue all around. He matches his ministrations with his fingers, not letting the twin feel left out. Your taste is of pure heaven and the sounds that leave your mouth are ones of an angel.

There’s a patch of wet on his boxers, right where the throbbing head of his cock strains against the fabric — the precum oozing out as he grinds his hips against yours. It makes him insane how you reply with the roll of your own, to match his moves, to cause more of that delicious friction that sends both of you into a spiral of desire.

Unable to wait any longer, you hook your fingers at the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down and Suguru replies with the same — pulling the soaked cotton off of you. He wants to taste you, and he will, but not now. He reaches down, guiding the tip of his cock between the folds of your pussy, the head sliding with ease as your slick mixes with the pearly beads of semen. He loves the way your thighs tremble every time he glides over your sensitive clit, how your breath hitches and eyes close.

“Ready?” The question falls and you nod fervently, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“I’m ready,” you assure and then, your back arches off the mattress. He slides in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you so completely, making you go blind for a moment. The pain burns just faintly, losing its flames to the flooding of endorphins and pleasure. He goes in to the hilt, his body shuddering as he drops his head to the crook of your neck.

The feeling overwhelms him. The way your pussy grips him, like a vice that almost pulls him in more and more. It’s delightful. Ecstatic. It’s something he’s never experienced before. Is that what love feels like? He moves, slowly backing his hips until there’s nothing but a tip nestled inside you before he pushes forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs and his own too.

You paw at his arms, his back and chest. You want him closer, you want to feel all of him. Stars are clouding your vision, the world ceases to exist and there’s nothing else in it but you and the man on top of you. He feels so good, like he’s meant to be right there with you and Suguru feels the same. Like he found home, like he belongs there, in the warmth of your embrace, in the tightness of your walls. He loves the way you cling to him, the way your nails dig into his skin and your heels dig into his ass, urging him to go harder, faster. He complies, his hips snapping against yours as the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echo through the room, alongside your moans and gasps.

He changes the angle, shifting his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes the stars glitter before your eyes. He knows he’s found it when your back arches off the bed, your nails scoring down his back and a scream tears from your throat. He loves the sound, he loves the sight. He loves how you come undone, how beautifully blissed out your expression is, how your eyes lock with his even though you see nothing but haze. He grins, a smile lost against your skin as he continues pounding into you relentlessly, chasing his own high. He can feel it already, it threatens to consume him. His balls draw up tight, his heart races in his chest.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groans and whimpers against your tender flesh as his hand grips your hip tightly. You match him thrust for thrust, nails leaving angry red marks in their wake. You feel the pleasure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel you might explode. Your walls start to flutter around him to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the desire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Suguru gasps, his voice strained with exertion. He knows you’re close, it drives him insane. “I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off with a guttural moan as his climax hits him like a freight train. He follows you into the pit of pure delight, headfirst, no thoughts. Just pure, overwhelming bliss.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, as his hips buck forward few more times, riding out your highs with stuttered thrusts. You both lay there, panting and sweating, basking in the afterglow of passion. His softening cock slips out of you, followed by a gush of combined fluids but none of you worries about the mess, too blissed out to care about a thing.

“Wow,” he breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, finding your pulse with his lips. “That was incredible.”

You giggle softly, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened locks. They feel like silk, soft and luxurious. “Mm, it certainly was.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms. He presses a tender kiss to your temple, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. It feels new, like an uncharted territory that he wants to explore further. With you. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely above whisper and sincere. “I want to be better. To be worthy of you.”

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and all you see in his violet eyes is raw honesty and a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “I believe you,” you tell him, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no more rush, no more lust — just pure, soft affection. “And I want to help you change. Together, yeah?”

Suguru smiles against our mouth, his heart swelling with love he never knew he was capable of.

Together.

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loveanddeepdick · 1 month ago

Text

cw: piv sex at the end, sylus is a bit rough hehe

sylus who (surprisingly to most people) is the most respectful out of the l&ds men.

sylus who holds every car door for you, leaves you a different array of flowers every week, makes sure you never use your own card, and opens every door for you. he has his large, scarred hand on your lower back at all times so he can assure you're by his side.

"focus on staying with me, sweetie. i don't want you getting lost somewhere you're not familiar with"

"sylus, i can handle myself!"

"i know you can. but as your man, i can't have you doing all the work alone, can i?"

sylus who loves teasing you. when you two are sitting anywhere near each other, he'll have his hand on your thigh. if he's sure that no one can see his girl, he'll trail his hand dangerously close to your crotch, grazing the top of your pussy, even dipping down a bit to give a small feather touch to your clit before returning back to the place above your thigh.

sylus who buys you any item you lay your eyes on. a new weapon, a new purse, new shoes, new clothes, they'll be at your doorstep in no time. after a while, you stopped telling him things you like since you started feeling guilty for spending so much.

he wouldn't have any of that. he sent luke and kieran to spy on you, finding out your password in only a day. he wasn't going to snoop through your messages, no. he had the utmost faith in you. instead, he would go through every shopping app you had and every website store you visited, clearing out every cart so it'd be empty and even spending extra on express shipping so it'd arrive as soon as possible.

sylus who tries to stay as respectful as possible when he finds that you've been shopping for adult toys. he knows you'd never buy it but he loves the sheer look on your face when he hands you the box.

"sy.. what is this?", your face goes ghostly pale as you recognize the logo on the box

"oh? trying to play innocent?"

sylus who's respect is forced out the window as he has you bent over his lap, fucking you with the dildo you'd personally shopped for.

"sy-sylus, please, i want your c-cock!", you cry out before he abruptly pulls the dildo from your pussy, leaving the tip in to tease you as he subtly shifts it in and out.

“oh? you want my cock? thought you wanted to play with some measly toys, sweetie”

“n-no, sylus,” you sobbed from the lack of stimulation, “‘need you so bad..”

“how bad?”, sylus smirked and you could swear that you could feel it burning in the back of your brain.

“really bad, sy. i need you in my pussy—“

you couldn’t even finish your thoughts before you were manhandled onto the bed. your ass was thrown up before he landed a sharp spank with his gloved hand.

“you wanna be fucked with this cock, baby?”, sylus grunted before the sound of a zipper could be heard.

“yes, please, sylus!”

“fuck.. take it—take it”.

sylus thrusted his erect cock roughly into your pussy, holding you in place as you squirmed from his girth.

“you trying to run away after i finally give you my dick?”

“n-no, sylus!”

“that’s not my name, sweetie”, sylus grinned before giving you another spank.

“please, please, fuck me with your cock, sir”

he groaned at the sound, grabbing your hips before he started ramming into you again.

sylus is respectful in every way. except for when he’s jealous of a dildo..

#love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #l&ds #sylus x reader #sylus qin #sylus qin x reader #sylus smut #rina journal 📝#IM SORRY IF THIS IS OOC THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING HIM

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multi-fandom-imagine · 3 months ago

Note

I was wondering if you could write Stanley doing things to the reader (freaky things 😈) in the back of El Diablo (his car) because ik in my heart that he would and if he and the reader could already be in an established relationship that would be great too like a “trying to rekindle our flame but the kids are in the house and we don’t want to scar them” type of plot. anyway, I love your content 🫶🏾 have a good night /day

A/n: hehehe

Warnings: Fingering, humping, fucking in Stan's shitty car on the side of the road, dirty talk, age gap { reader can be in late 20's - late 30's }

Your face was pressed tightly into Stan's neck, your fingers clutching his shirt as you grounded your hips against his knee, his hand guiding you. You mind fogged as you mentally thanked Stan for pulling his shitty car on the side of the road near the woods since the last thing on your mind was someone catching you two.

A deep chuckle escaping the man's lips, glasses nearly slipping off the bridge of his nose as he watched you.“Fuck, Angel." Stan breathes out as his eyes darkened with desire. He could feel your panties dampen on his knee. His hand slipping under your skirt, grasping your panties he tugged them down in one quick motion.

"Stan...just fucking touch me already. Don't tell me your age is catching up with you." You teased.

“Fucking hell, you're a little minx aren't you,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky with need as the smirk remained on his lips “though I can I deny you" Stan bit back a swear as he fixed the car seat, spreading his legs to be better positioned between your legs, his fingers teasingly trailing along your inner thighs before finally slipping between your slick folds. He starts to rub slow circles against your clit, his touch nearly sending you over the edge.

“You’re so wet for me, Angel,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re always ready for my touch, aren’t you? So fuckin needy." His fingers slide lower, pressing against your entrance and slowly easing inside you, curling and stroking in just the right way to make you tremble with pleasure.

Stan watches you intently, his eyes filled with hunger as he guides you towards the edge of bliss. “Ride my fingers, baby,” he urges, his voice a low growl. “Let me get you ready for what’s to come.”

"Stanley." Your voice sharp as your hips jerked, nails digging into his shoulders. Tremors leaving your body as your orgasm hit you.

God he loved when you called out his name, to think, a sexy woman like yourself calling out his name. It was the hottest thing.

Stan smirks as he watches you unravel in pleasure, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers still buried deep inside you as he revels in the way you cling to him.

“Such a good girl, Angel,” he murmurs, his tone laced with satisfaction. “But don’t worry, baby,I got you.” With a swift motion, he withdraws his fingers from your dripping core, a low groan escaping his lips at the loss, he couldn't wait to feel you wrapped around his cock.

Without hesitation, Stan lifted his hips up, quickly pushing his pants and boxers down to reveal his thick, pulsing cock. He positions himself between your legs once more, the head of his length teasing your entrance.

“Gonna rock this car, no one is gonna know that I'm fuckin ya” he taunts, his eyes locked with yours as he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch. The sensation of being completely filled by him sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but arch your back in pleasure.

Stan begins to move, his thrusts steady and deep, each one driving you closer to the edge once again. “You’re mine, Angel,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips firmly. “And I’m gonna give you everything you need.”

He had to bite back a groan as he felt your tight walls clenching around him, the sensation driving him wild with desire. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he continues to thrust deeply into you, his movements becoming more urgent and primal.

He couldn't even register the fact that his car was shaking with each of his thrusts.

“Fuck, Angel,” he breathes out, his voice strained with pleasure. “You feel so good, so tight around me.” Stan buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent as he sets a relentless pace, each thrust pushing you both closer to the edge.

His hands roam over your body, finding all the right places to touch and tease. He nibbles at your neck and collarbone, leaving marks of possession as he claims you as his own.

“You’re mine, Angel,” he growls, his voice husky with need. “All mine. Nobody else can make you feel like this, can they?” Stan's thrusts become more erratic, his hips driving into you with a primal intensity as he chases his own release, determined to bring you to the peak of ecstasy once again.

Your whimpers only fuel his passion, spurring him on to take you higher and higher.

"You feel so good, so tight around me.”

With a guttural groan, Stan picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. He can feel the coil of pleasure tightening in his belly, signaling that he’s nearing the edge. “I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he grunts, his hips snapping against yours. “You’re mine, all mine.”

With one final, powerful thrust, Stan finds his release, spilling himself deep inside you as he claims you as his own.The creaking sound of the car slowing to a stop, windows fogged as he felt his dick still twitching within you.

The heat of your bodies mingling in a passionate embrace. He holds you close, his heart racing as he revels in the intimacy of the moment.

“Fuck, Angel, you’re amazing,” he gasps as he did his best to catch his breath. His heart was pounding in his chest as a little giggle escaped your lips as you placed a lazy kiss to his lip.

Breathless and satisfied, he holds you close, pressing soft kisses to your skin as he catches his breath. “You’re so perfect, Angel,” he whispers, his voice filled with adoration. “I’ll always take care of you, make you feel this good.”

Humming, still clinging to the man you cupped his cheeks drawing him in for another kiss. "And I'll take care of you to Stan...I love you."

"I don't get how someone as wonderful as you could ever love me, but I sure as hell ain't letting you go, I love ya far too much."

#drabbles #drabble #stanley pines #stanley pines x reader #stanley pines x you #stan pines #stan #stan pines x reader #stan pines x you #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #stan gravity falls #gravity falls stanley #smut

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oreo-creampie · 1 year ago

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𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨; 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mean/angry nerd!switch!choso, hate fucking/academic rivals, Daddy/brat, biting, degradation/mocking, two pussy slaps, a hint of oral/fingering for some prep, pain kink, begging, just the tip, choking, light fem dom!reader, biting, hair pulling/dragging, mirror sex, full nelson, squirting

Oreo: @arminsumi @vampress7 lets all be delulu over nerd!choso, normal choso could and would never be so mean. I stand by that but this is nerd!choso Au whose done with your shit even if you are right! 🤤

“You’re such an annoying brat correcting me in class.” Choso grabs your arms pinning them above your head. Stuffing his thigh between your legs. Grinding your hips, your soft clit perfectly rubbing on his thick thigh.

Fighting the urge to groan. “If you weren't wrong, I wouldn't have to-!” Choso shuts you up with a rough kiss, biting your bottom lip. Slipping his tongue past when you cry.

Squeezing your neck, pulling away, smirking down at you. “Say something now, do anything other than grind your clit on my thigh like a pretty dirty whore.” Glaring up at him, unable to stop yourself. It feels to go to rock your clothed cunt on his clothed thigh.

Sneering, “If only the class knew what a pathetic whore you are. Glaring up at me like you won't beg for my cock.” It’s going straight to your needy cunt the way Choso is looking down at you with such angry hunger.

Moving his thigh from between yours. Roughly unbutton your pants, yanking them down your thighs with your underwear Curling two thick fingers into your cunt. “Already stupidly wet for me, nnn can't believe such a pretty cunt belongs to such a brat.” Letting go of your neck, crouching down ripping your pants down the rest of the way.

“Aw Choso Kamo is mad 'cause I’m right! Doesn't matter how much of a stupid cock drunk slut your fat cock makes me it won't change that!” Slapping your clit and cunt repeatedly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, muffling your cries from the sweet sting.

Biting your stomach, gliding two thick fingers. You grab a fistful of his dark hair tugging till he whines. Your sloppy wet cunt quivers around Choso's thick fingers from the beautiful sound. “Annoying brat.” Propping your thigh on his broad shoulder, shoving his face towards your clit.

“Shut up and suck my clit.” Biting your thigh, pumping his thick fingers faster. Massaging your sweet spot, licking your soft clit. Groaning into your cunt, grabbing your hip digging in his nails.

Squirming grinding your hips, swiping your clit on his pierced tongue. Curling from your toes from the sweet pressure of his hard bar. “Fuck you for being so damn beautiful with my cunt on your face.” Sloppily sucking on your soft clit, groaning getting off in the soft squelching of his finger sinking into your sloppy wet cunt.

Gliding his fingers out, slipping your thigh off his shoulder standing up. Unbuttoning his dark pants, pushing them down, kicking them to the side. “No underwear? Figures why everyone could see the fat outline of your cock when you were in front of the class.”

Picking up his beautiful cock. Biting your lip, stroking your clit, you love the way he’s so fat and heavy he hangs. He smirks looking down at you, trapping your head between his large hands.

Grabbing his cock touching stroking your clit. “I knew you were lookin’ n you lied sayin’ you weren't.” He groans when you slide your side lips along his cock, smearing slick into his cock head. Helping you stroke your clit better.

“Fuck you, you didn't deserve the satisfaction after being wrong. You should have studied better I'm disappointed in you can I even think of you as a rival after that.” Biting Choso’s tattoo of black flowers and dark green leaves and thorny vines.

The large garden covers most of his body. Hiding scars you’ve memorized the placement of. You hate him so much, yet you know his body better than your own.

Tracing over the one above his heart. Kissing the bite mark. “Please you know you’re going to be thinking about seeing me in class tomorrow. Let’s see how good your essay is, if I think it’s less than 96 you’re not cumming.” Grabbing your hair pulling your head back.

Looking up at him, siding your hand down from his thick hard pecs to his sculpted abs. “Fuck whatever stupid grading system you have it's rigged. You just want to hear me beg.” Stepping back, taking away his thick, warm cock on your soft clit.

Choso leads you from his living room into the hallway with a firm grasp on your hair. “Damn right, I want to hear you beg for this cock. Watch yourself, see what a dumb slut I fuck ya into.” Letting go, shoving you into his bathroom, grabbing your arm, and twisting you to face the mirror. Bending you over, lifting your ass up in the air.

Grabbing the counter. Admiring Choso in the mirror. His broad chest, thick arms, and slim waist. “I want to be fucked dumb by your fat cock.” Lining his thick cock up gliding in just his fat cock head.

Suspended in the air with only his tip in you, you look so desperate begging. "Please fuck me with your fat cock, I don't want to think of anything else. Wanna be your pretty dumb cock sleeve." Gliding his cock out, slapping himself on your lips.

Clenching with every wet smack, lining himself back up gliding only his fat tip into you. His fat head alone stretching your cunt feels too damn good. "Please fuck my bratty attitude outta me, make me your mindless cum stuffed slut. NNn." Roughly pulling you back to meet his harsh thrust, stuffing you full of his cock.

Loudly moaning, "Fuck me!" Choso grabs your hair, yanking you upright. Wrapping an arm around his neck. Choso slips his arms underneath your legs, folding you in half. Bouncing you in time with his hard, quick thrusts.

Stroking your sweet spot before stirring your guts up. "That's what I thought it's ok ya can moan you are my stupid pretty slut." Slipping his arm across your body, trapping both your legs over his thick forearm.

You're tightly pinned, knees to your chest watching your cunt get stuffed. Getting off on how Choso needs one arm to support you. Stroking your clit whining from the sweet toe-curling pleasure, clenching his fat cock. "Nnn daddy please!"

"Daddy? Already is it that good? Like seeing how your cunt is making a perfect circle from how fat my cock is." Steadily stroking your soft clit. Over the months of ending up in his apartment he's perfected playing with your clit.

You couldn't do it better yourself anymore. Couldn't cum this hard that your eyes are rolling back, body trembling, jaw-dropping. Your thick slick dripping down Choso's balls, some of your squirt splashing onto his counter.

Forgetting everything but getting fucked stupid on Choso's fat, veiny cock. “Ya cummin' so much for me, thought ya hated me but look at you. Giving me those love sick eyes." You don't have the mind to protest.

Choso smirks, "I might be second in class but I'm still your Daddy. No one else can fuck ya like I can look at ya already a stupid drooling brat.”

Oreo creampie’s m.list

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idiotmf · 4 months ago

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Alien who loves your skin

NSFW, MDNI

Content: Fully gender neutral reader, slow fucking

Alien boyfriend who is obsessed with touching your skin. Bonus points if you have skin imperfections for him to be amazed about.

He gets super excited when you shave because “it's so smooth!!” But he also doesn't care if you don't, because, look! You can grow fur!

He endlessly traces scars, as if he's trying to feel every little thing, committing it to memory.

Sometimes he touches your skin, then his own, and then yours again, marveling at how different you are. You're so soft, squishy, and cute!

He'll trace your skin while slowly thrusting into you, his claws carefully teasing your sensitive spots, making you writhe in pleasure and frustration at his slow pace.

He's not an aggressive lover most of the time, but he does enjoy teasing you quite a lot—the look on your face when you can't get enough, the way your hips shake to try and get his alien cock deeper into you.

He'll let you wriggle for a while but then grabs your hips, his thumb-like claws softly stroking your skin as he holds you still for more slow torture.

He loves the way your skin flushes as you moan out, and your voice is another thing he loves about you.

Sometimes, he'll flip you over and fuck your hole from behind; it's something you showed him in the hopes he would go feral on you. It turns out he does love the position, but only because you make such cute mewling sounds when he doesn't give you what you want.

These days, he just slow-fucks you while sensually tracing your beautiful back and watching those cute goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

He revels when your orgasm builds, your body writhing in need, trying so desperately to get more but he's denying you, pounding into your puffy hole for hours with excruciatingly slow movements, almost carefully so, but deep enough to hit all of your favorite spots.

You don't know if it's despite the painfully slow pace or because of it, but every orgasm feels more shaking than the last, leaving you not only panting but wanting more, and he'll give you exactly that. His pace switches quickly, leaving you just enough time to let out a small yelp before he starts that punishing pace that makes you see stars, just before he cums inside of you, the slightly bioluminescent seed painting your beautifully smooth thighs, as he makes sure to touch your skin some more and let you know just how pretty you are, calling you his favorite star in the galaxy.

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kenobers · 1 month ago

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nsfw alphabet | Jason Todd

what the title says ! tw; explicit sexual content, gn!reader a/n; like always, these are just my thoughts and headcanons

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

Jason's gonna make sure you're comfortable afterwards. He'll wipe you down, check that he didn't go too far. If you leave afterwards, he'll make sure you get home safe. If you stay, he'll offer you a t-shirt to sleep in. For a while, he wasn't big on the physical aspect of aftercare, but eventually pulling you to his chest becomes second nature. It's like your head fits just right in the crook of his shoulder. Hey, maybe the body heat will keep with the inevitable soreness you'll feel tomorrow. He's big on eating after sex. If you have enough energy, he'll order some Chinese or throw a frozen pizza in the oven. Sometimes it's kind of astonishing how the man will fuck you until you're more than a ragdoll, then immediately demolish like three Big Macs.

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

He loves hands. He loves his hands. They're big and strong, they can protect you, please you, provide for you. He adores the way you feel under them, soft and clean. He loves to feel you press against his palm while his fingers disappear inside of you. He loves your hands, the way they feel on his skin. No matter their size, they always look so small wrapped around his cock. He cherishes every mark your fingernails leave along his back, every sting they leave on his scalp when they twist his hair. He loves that your hands can go from caressing his scars to replacing them.

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

Jason loves the sight of you, sweaty and panting, with your stomach and thighs decorated in white. He's a little more possessive than he likes to admit, and he secretly feels like he's marking you as his whenever he finishes all over your skin.

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

He loves having high sex. When the weed hits just right, so the world reduces to nothing but you...that's that good shit right there. He gets so locked in that there isn't a single thought that could pull him away. He's numb in every place that isn't touching you. It adds a certain level of passion, of desperation, for each of you because your senses are so heightened to each other. However, it isn't very often that he feels both of you are to the same level of inebriated for it.

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

He isn't as sexually charged as you would think and he typically waits to get to know a person before having sex with them (with a few exceptions, like for a certain crime lord's daughter). So in that regard, one of his body counts is significantly higher than the other, but he's had enough experience to know what he's doing. He knows what he likes and he knows how to figure out what you like.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

So long as your legs are hooked over his hips, he's happy. Jason particularly loves it when he's on his knees while you're on your back with your hips angled over his thick thighs. It lets him get deep inside of you while still being able to look at your pretty face. Not to mention, he loves grasping your hips, spreading your legs wide. (According to trusted resource, SexPositions.Club, this is position 5. Aquarius) He also loves having you up against things. Against a wall, on the kitchen table, the handle bars of his motorcycle. The way you hold onto him in more ways than one really adds something to the moment. And yeah, maybe it allows him to show off his strength to you.

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

Jason's tone depends on the time and place. For the most part, he's serious. He teases you, lets out a low chuckle when he gets a sought after reaction from you, but it isn't humorous. But sometimes...sex is just incredibly unserious. Like lazy morning sex, when neither of you can be bothered to do much more than roll on top of one another. Like you're horny, but Jason looks so goofy with his hair sticking up and you're a real beauty queen with your crusty eyes. Or the aforementioned high sex, when both of you are so lost in your pleasure and giggles.

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

His autopsy scar stops where his happy trail begins. Before you were a regular in his bed, he didn't really think to groom himself much. But he figured he should show you some decorum, so he keeps the dark patch of hair reigned in.

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

Jason doesn't take sex lightly. It's either a tool or a declaration of love (no matter how lazy). If he's using sex as a tool, he isn't going to be very intimate. He'll praise you, sing songs about your body, but it isn't going to be very personal. However, when you're in an established relationship, he's very intimate. There's much more kissing and eye contact, lots more "that's my baby" instead of "that's it, baby".

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Oh yeah. Usually only if you're gone though. He'd rather have the real deal. But sometimes...if he thinks about you for a little too long...well, it's hard to hide all that when you're his size...it's just polite for everyone else if he just deals with it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Jason's kinks are sort of a revolving door. He likes to go rougher and he likes to be in charge typically, but everything else is dependent on your moods. One day he'll blindfold you, the next you'll tie his hands together while he gives you orders you have to follow on your own. He'll be daddy once, then sir the next, but his favorite thing to here is Jason. He also gets a thrill out of doing it with the Red Hood mask on. He's also got a praise kink. There's nothing that gets him going more than hearing you babble about how good he's making you feel, about how much you love him. It goes the other way as well. He loves to tell you how good you feel, how beautiful you are, how well you're taking him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Where ever the mood strikes. Generally speaking, his apartment is his favorite place. There isn't a particular room, he just likes the knowledge that this is your space to do as you please. But he does get a little thrill whenever you manage to do it somewhere risky.

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

It's cliche as hell, but the sight of you in red really does work wonders for him. If he can see your nipples through your shirt, it's over. Watching you doing or say something intelligent is a huge turn on. He likes to watch you work for it. The way you oh-so-conspicuously bend over to pick something up or shiver so your chest sticks out. Make a suggestive face as you drop an innuendo only he understands and he'll see to it that your efforts don't go unrewarded.

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

He's not a voyeur. If he's gonna do it in a public setting, it's gonna be in a closet or a bathroom stall; somewhere that still shields your bodies from prying eyes. That's just for the two of you. Now, of course there's exceptions - like if you're trying to piss off your mobster father by fucking on his property, then he'll get a little cheeky for the security cameras.

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

Jason is nothing, if not a giver. Just lay back and let him take care of it, baby. This is something he can spend hours doing. His tongue knows just where to work you, he knows just how much teeth you like, where the biting boarders on pain. And if his fingers aren't right next to his mouth, they're kneading your skin, raking his nails across your stomach with a featherlight touch, massaging the kinks in your thighs so you can open them a little more. If nothing else, his mouth and hands can cover a lot of ground.

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

Jason likes it fast and rough. He'll drag out foreplay to his heart's content, but once you're good and ready, he's fucking you like his life depends on it. Then he's flipping you over and doing it again. That said, he has his slow and sensual moments. After a rough night when he's feeling particularly sentimental and grateful for you, he'll take all the time in the world just to watch you underneath him.

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

Pro quickie, but usually if it's an appetizer for what comes later on. It's hard to take a dick that big and casually go on about your day. So, most of the time quickies look like his fingers sneaking down your pants during your lunch break, his head between your thighs in the bathroom at a charity event, or you on your knee taking care of him before patrol.

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

As mentioned earlier, his kinks are a revolving door, so he would be down to experiment. He's pretty good about saying no when he needs to, and if he trusts that you can do the same, then he's open to trying new risks.

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

No one recovers like this man. He can go for as many rounds as your heart desires. Unless he's already been yearning the whole damn day, Jason can last until the cows come home.

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

He doesn't have any toys for himself and doesn't really like to use them on his own body. However, he likes to use the vibrator on you, especially during foreplay. He likes to watch as you curl into him and shake with pleasure while he drives the toy between your legs - especially knowing that it won't be enough to satisfy you for long.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease up to a certain point. If you're out doing something, he'll keep sliding his hand higher and higher up your thigh, then pull away completely, or lean down to say something to you so that his breath hits your neck in that one sensitive spot... But once your clothes are off, he can only restrain himself for so long.

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

Low groans and swears. His mouth as a mind of its own when he really gets going as he praises you, teases, calls out to you. You're his Baby, his Pretty Thing/Girl/Boy, so so good for him, taking it all like this. Oooh. Look. At. You. You can always tell when he's close because his panting turns to grunts, his sweet nothings become more intense as they strain between his teeth.

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

He's secretly a little self conscious about his body, particularly about his scars. Like, yeah, he's big and muscly and people always say they dig scars, but...some of his are, like, real nasty. Not to mention, that some of them have triggering memories attached to them. He finds his autopsy scar to be especially gross. It takes up so much of his chest and it doesn't seem to want to fade like the rest of his marks tend to do. So for a while when you first started having sex, he found ways around taking his shirt off. And if it did come off, it was in the dark. Once he works up the courage to finally show you all of him in proper light, he's surprised when you're more fascinated with it than anything. He can't suppress the shiver that runs down his spine when you press your lips to the crux of that T-shaped stamp. He probably won't ever love his scars, but he'll always adore the way you treat them.

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

He's a big guy and is very proportional. He's a solid 8 inches standing tall and girthy. He's a lot to take in, which is why he's very adamant about getting an orgasm out of you before penetration.

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

His libido is strong for you. As previously stated, he's not as sex charged as you would think, but he does have a strong desire for you. He initiates sex fairly regularly, but he doesn't feel the need to paw at your clothes 24/7.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He almost always waits until you fall asleep. If you manage to fall asleep quickly, then he'll follow suit typically.

#this is how i'm fighting writer's block #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #jason todd/reader #jason todd/you #red hood/reader #red hood/you #jason todd nsft alphabet #dc comics #kenobers poetics

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nehi-soda · 2 months ago

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Push Your Luck -

Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: You loved lying with Joel and listening to his music, but tonight, your need for him was impossible to ignore. So you decided to push—just a little. Maybe tonight, you would be lucky.

Word count: 2.6K

Warnings: established relationship but reader’s first sexual encounter with Joel, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected P in V sex, pulling out method as a form of contraception (be safe, don't be like them), descriptions of arousal and masturbation, fluff, smut, general filth, dirty talk, grumpy!joel, a dash of soft!joel, jackson!joel, cum, saliva, pet names (honey, baby, darlin'). No use of Y/N. Mood board is for aesthetics only; the reader's features aren't specified.

A/N: This was inspired by these images by @elliespuns, which have been playing on my mind and making me feral. Enjoy!

Joel's room was warm, the gentle crackle of his old records filling the quiet space with the soft hum of Johhny Cash. You were both sprawled on his bed like usual, your right leg resting over his rough jeans, a comfortable mess of limbs. The quiet between you wasn’t awkward—just the kind of stillness that comes after the world outside has been shut out for the night.

Joel had one arm tucked under his head, his other hand resting on the curve of your hip. His thumb absentmindedly traced lazy circles on your skin. But what he didn’t know—what he was completely unaware of—was that those small, soft touches were driving you insane. Each pass of his thumb sent ripples of heat straight to your core, making it impossible to think about anything other than how badly you wanted him.

Every time his skin grazed yours, your body responded, a subtle shift of your hips, a quiet shudder in your breath. The warmth of him pressed against you, the solid weight of his body beside yours—it only made the ache between your legs grow sharper.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to move, to press yourself against him, to grind your hips just enough to get some relief. You wondered if he could feel the heat rolling off your body, the throbbing need emanating from between your thighs.

His gaze was distant, fixed somewhere on the ceiling, lost in thoughts you couldn’t quite reach. There was always that slight hesitation in him, a part of him that held back, even when you were this close.

You shifted slightly, turning toward him, your fingers playing with the buttons of his flannel shirt. Joel’s breath hitched, and you noticed how his muscles tightened under your touch.

Without saying anything, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of his jaw. His stubble brushed your lips, rough and familiar. He closed his eyes as if surrendering to the moment, even if just for a second.

“Joel,” you whispered against his skin, the sound of his name more of a comfort than a question. Your lips moved lower, trailing a path down his neck, slow and deliberate, feeling his pulse beneath your mouth. He exhaled, a sound caught between a sigh and a groan, his hands resting on your hips as if he was trying to hold himself back, trying to keep some semblance of control.

His shirt was already half undone, so you pushed it open the rest of the way, revealing his thickly tufted chest. He was broad, built from years of hard work and survival, but there was a softness there, too, a gentle curve to his belly that you adored. His skin was smooth but scattered with old scars and faint marks, each one telling a different story of a life lived in a world that hadn’t been kind.

Your lips found the base of his throat again, lingering there for a moment before you started your descent. You trailed tender kisses down his chest like drops of rain rolling down weathered stone.

“What are you doin’?” He asked, almost sounding annoyed.

You didn’t answer, instead you dragged your tongue across his pec, feeling the way his breath caught as you moved lower, tasting the salt on his skin. His chest rose and fell beneath your lips. He tensed as you kissed down to his belly. You nipped at the flesh there, teasing him, hearing the low growl that rumbled up from his throat, a warning or maybe an invitation.

Your hands gripped his sides as you made your way down, slow and purposeful, your lips grazing the faint trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. The heat radiating from his body was intense, pulling you in. His scent was raw and earthy, a mix of leather and something so uniquely Joel —it was all so intoxicating.

You’d never gotten past this point without him tugging you back, always stopping you before things could go any further. He was the one who kept that line drawn—held it tight.

When you reached the top of his jeans, you slid off the edge of the bed to settle between his legs, your bare knees sinking onto the rug beneath you. Your lips pressed to the spot just above where the denim began, breathing him in more.

His cock already strained against the fabric of his jeans, the outline thick and urgent, demanding attention.

It would be rude not to oblige.

You unbuckled his belt slowly and undid his jeans, your fingers brushing against him as you pulled back the fabric. He let out a deep breath as you ran your hand over him, feeling the heat, the need that he was trying so hard to hold back. “Relax,” you murmured, freeing his cock out of the waistband of his boxers. “Let me take care of you.”

Your hands gripped his thighs as you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the base of his cock. He groaned, his hand coming to tangle in your hair, not pulling, just holding, as if he wasn’t sure if he should let you continue. “Baby, you don’t have to…” Joel’s voice was rough, strained with the effort of keeping himself in check, but you could hear the desperation in it, the way his words trailed off as you licked a slow, teasing line up the length of him, tasting him. You looked up, meeting his gaze as you took him into your mouth. His hazel eyes darkened as you started to move, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive underside before taking him deeper. Stop being so nice, you wanted to say to him.

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, his head falling back as you set a steady rhythm, your hot mouth working him over with a practised ease that had him groaning, his hips jerking up involuntarily. You loved the way he responded to you, the way his body betrayed the control he tried so hard to maintain, the way he was falling apart under your touch.

You took your time. You wanted him to feel good. The soft clink of his belt was a monotonous beat to your movements. Joel’s fingers clung onto your hair, sending pleasant tingles to your scalp, his grip tightening as you increased the pace, taking him deeper, feeling him grow harder in your mouth. His moans filled the room, his voice a low, desperate sound that made you so wet. You could feel him getting close, his body trembling as he fought to hold back. “Shit,” he gasped, trying to pull back, but you didn’t let him. You wanted to give this to him, to let him lose himself in the pleasure, to show him that with you, he didn’t have to be in control all the time.

He was big, bigger than you were used to. Your eyes stung, tears blurring your vision as you fought to take him deeper, every inch of him filling your mouth so well. It was intense, and the mess only made it better— you could feel the sloppy trail of your saliva running down his shaft, gathering around your fingers as they gripped what your mouth couldn’t take, desperate to keep up with the size and the pace.

A mixture of your spit and his precum pooled at his base, slick and messy, dripping down onto his jeans. You think he liked seeing you like this, eyes watering, lips stretched around him, struggling to take all of him in. The way his cock throbbed told you as much, each twitch between your lips as you hollowed your cheeks, his size pressing against the back of your throat.

“Yeah, filthy little mouth... takin’ it all like that,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

And there it was.You knew he couldn’t be a gentleman with you all the time.

Your jaw ached, your throat tightened, and you could feel your body rebelling, but the thrill of it kept you going, pushing you to take more, to make him feel every desperate, hungry inch of your mouth. You took him as far as your body would allow until you were gagging and forced to draw back, spluttering for air.

His cock glistened, throbbing in your hand as you stroked him slowly, dragging out every second of his pleasure.

“Christ... you are a filthy thing, aren’t ya,” he rasped, his accent thick as the words rolled off his tongue.

The way he looked at you like you were the most depraved, beautiful sight he’d ever seen sent a wave of heat straight to your aching pussy. Fuck he was so handsome. You could feel yourself dripping, your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking through the fabric of your panties, desperate for any sort of relief.

You smiled up at him, lips still wet and swollen from where you’d had him, your eyes gleaming.

The way you looked—sweet, sinful, shameless— made something flash in his eyes and his cock twitch in your hand.

“Don’t go lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, voice low and rough, the warning in his tone almost lost in the sheer need coursing through him. But you didn’t back down, didn’t look away, just smiled wider, eyes locked on his, waiting to see how far he’d let you push him before he broke.

“What, you like suckin’ cock or somethin'?”

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, licking your lips as you held his gaze, your hand still lazily stroking his length.

“Only yours,” you whispered, your voice husky as your thumb swirled around the tip of his cock again, collecting more of that wetness. You leaned in, letting your breath ghost over him, close enough that he could feel the heat of your mouth, but just out of reach, playing with him, making him wait for it.

The low groan that rumbled from his chest told you everything. His grip in your hair tightened, that roughness in him rising up again.

“Only mine,” he laughed, half under his breath, letting his head fall back against the bed. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, hips jerking forward, pushing his cock closer to your waiting lips, telling you he didn’t want you to stop. Not now. Not ever.

Your lips parted, and you took him in again, slow and deep, letting him feel just how much you wanted him. Your hands gripped his thighs, fingers digging into the hard muscle, anchoring yourself as you moved faster.

His hips moved with you now, fucking your mouth with deep thrusts, each one bringing him closer to that sweet release you both craved.

You could feel him losing it, his body taut, every muscle straining as his cock pulsed harder against your tongue. He was close—so fucking close.

You stood up and hiked up your dress, the fabric bunching at your hips as you climbed on top of him. Your knees sank into the mattress on either side of his broad body. He barely had time to catch his breath before your hands were on his chest, and you were grinding down against him, your soaked panties brushing against the hard length of him.

Joel’s eyes widened just a fraction, that flicker of surprise quickly replaced by raw need as he felt your heat. His hands instinctively came up to grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, urging you on. You didn’t waste any time—your hand slipped between your legs, pulling your panties to the side, exposing yourself to him, wet and ready.

You lined him up, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, teasing, torturing him for a moment before you sank down onto him in one quick motion. The stretch was immediate and intense as he filled you completely, every thick inch of him sliding deep inside you. Your breath hitched, a low moan escaping your lips as your walls clenched around him, taking him in until there was nothing left to take.

“Goddamn, honey,” Joel groaned, voice strained as he felt you squeeze him. His head tipped back, jaw clenched.

You didn’t give yourself a chance to adjust—you started moving, rolling your hips, grinding down on him, taking him deeper with each thrust. You braced your hands on his chest, fucking him harder, faster with everything you had. His cock pulsed inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every movement, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moaned, head falling back as you lost yourself in the feeling of him inside you.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel rasped, a hand bunching your dress, his other gripping your ass now, pulling you down harder onto him, guiding you, urging you to take it harder. His hips bucked up to meet your movements, fucking into you from below.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” you whispered, voice low, teasing, grinding your hips against him slowly, making sure he felt every needy inch of you, how wet you were for him. “You love being deep inside my pussy, Joel… don’t pretend otherwise.”

He groaned, fingers digging into your hips, his breath coming out ragged, but he couldn’t muster a response.

“You like watching me take it all, don’t you?” you continued, leaning down so your lips hovered just above his, your breath hot against his skin. “Seeing how fucking desperate I am for your cock. You feel that?”

A deep growl rumbled in his chest. “Fuck… I feel it,” he strained, “Keep talkin' like that and I ain’t gonna last, darlin’.”

You smiled wickedly, rolling your hips in that slow, teasing rhythm, feeling every inch of him stretch you, fill you up in a way that made your whole body tremble. The heat between your thighs was intense, a clawing, pulsing ache that begged for more. You moaned, the sound low and breathless, your hands gripping his chest for balance as you rocked your hips again, the friction of your clit rubbing against the roughen hair at the base of his cock, sending shocks of pure bliss through your whole body.

“God, you feel so fucking good inside me, Joel,” you moaned. Every movement had you teetering on the edge, the way his cock brushed against that spot deep inside that made your legs shake.

“Oh, fuck!” Your voice broke, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you trembling and breathless. Your hands clung to his chest and flannel for support as you rode out the aftershocks, your thighs quivering around him, your release coating his cock as you ground down on him, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

Joel groaned, clearly on the edge himself, his cock throbbing as you tightened around him, making it harder for him to hold on. His breath came in ragged bursts.

“Shit—gotta pull out,” he growled, pulling out his cock.

His grip tightened as he lifted you just enough, sliding out of you, his cock twitching desperately. The sudden emptiness left you still aching with need, but you watched as he grabbed himself, stroking fast, desperate, along his thick shaft.

He moaned, deep and guttural, as he came hard, hot ropes of cum spilling across his hairy stomach. His chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths as the last of his release dripped from the head of his cock on to the mess he’d made of himself.

“See, wasn’t so bad, was it, Joel?” you teased, your voice full of satisfaction.

“Don’t push your luck,” he grumbled.

divider credit to @saradika-graphics

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