#the twitch is honestly a blessing

[3416]

he's on FUEGO in this gulag tonight, chat!!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

too big

a/n: honestly, bless this man for being such a dick (and having such a dick, holy fuck i’m gonna pass out)

summary: cock throbbing in his grasp, he stared down at your pussy as he swept his intimidating girth against it, “you know, you have been such a fucking tease for way too long… only giving me handjobs or rubbing that little cunt on me, basically taunting me, while the rest of these assholes get to have you, all of you, anyway they want,” he stopped nudging your buzzing pearl and instead dragged through your petals till he found your opening, quivering and dripping as he nuzzled against it, “I’m fucking tired…” he groaned slowly, “…so I’m done waiting… I’ll finally feel this fucking pussy wrapped around me whether you like it or not.” 

warnings: innocent!reader x frat!bucky barnes, stepbro!steve rogers, frat!ari levinson, marc spector, ransom drysdale, curtis everett, lloyd hansen, andy barber, thor odinson, scott lang, miguel o'hara, frank castle, billy russo, smut, dark content, dubcon halfway through, college au, polyamory, kissing, corruption kink, shower sex, bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talk, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, manhandling, overstimulation, orgasm denial, edging, multiple orgasms, squirting, impact play, pain kink, spit kink, choking, masturbation, oral, fingering, anal, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, bukkake

word count: 6770

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“Ah, not yet,” your stepbrother groaned over the booming music, that rocked the frat house, as he cut the sip of his beer short, “if you really don’t wanna be here anymore, can’t you just like go up to my room and wait?”

“Seriously?” a long sigh flowed from your lungs, “then I’d rather just walk back to my dorm alone, I don’t even know why you insist on escorting me like I’m a child.” 

“Because you shouldn’t walk alone at night,” Steve shot back as his gaze continued to keep his focus on the party around him, “don’t be a brat, just go wait upstairs.”

“Well, can’t someone else do it then if you’re so busy, your majesty,” your comment earned you a glare. 

“You’re my responsibility,” he stated, the bridge of his nose twitching heatedly as he glowered down at you, “I’m not just gonna dump my problems on my friends for them to deal with.”

“Wow, okay,” you nearly choked on the lump that promptly formed in your throat, “I’m sorry for being such a burden then,” you muttered before spinning around and storming up the stairs. 

The door to Steve’s room slammed shut like a crack of thunder behind your spine. 

Chest still heaving, you stared down at the ground for a long moment before you finally managed to force your feet to move once again and peel you away from the door. You flopped down onto the bed with a heated huff, blinking up at the ceiling before your gaze flickered to the night sky twinkling on the other side of the windows. 

Though as you laid there, your stepbrother's last words nearly swallowing you whole as they played on a loop in your brain like a plague, a different sound suddenly caught your ears and caused your cheeks to instantly heat up with something other than fury. 

Reverberating through the thin wall, shrill moans were tangled with deep ones, some that were familiar, though you didn’t place them till the female whines started screaming out his name. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky–,” the cries rang out each time the thud of a headboard thumped against the wall. 

And though you couldn’t make out every word, you still thought that you could hear Bucky’s low timbre crackle in dirty soliloquies, fractured sentences that soon persuaded your hands to subconsciously drift down along your frame.

Though by the time that your fingers had found their way down your pants and stuffed up your hole, rocking them to the same rhythm of the pounding that nearly cracked through the wall, the door to Steve’s room was suddenly ripped open and you tore your hand away from your cunt. 

“I am only gonna say this once, so you better fucking listen up,” he grumbled as he kicked the door shut behind him, “I–… am sorry…” he struggled to huff, “there, you happy now?” 

The lewd noises that echoed through the wall didn’t faze him at all as he apparently was so used to such background noise in the house that he barely registered it at all. 

“So, you don’t think I’m a burden?” you uttered, propping yourself up on your elbows as doubt stiffened your words. 

“…no…” resisting a roll of his eye, he instead faintly shook his head as he began to walk closer, “you’re not a burden… a brat? Yes,” he stated, “but I guess you’re not that bad…” a slight smirk twitched at his lip before he then bent down over you and kissed you. 

Though as it turned out to not just be a swift peck he’d sought after as he layed down at top of you, one of your palms pressed against the centre of his burly chest before you twisted your lips out of the way, “wait, wait,” your head faintly shook as you tried not to succumb to his intoxicating kiss, “no, if we do this, then we’ll both just fall asleep here.” 

“Would that really be so bad?” a soft scoff crackled in his throat. 

“I wanna sleep in my own bed tonight,” you tilted your head as you blinked up at him, your brows gently knitting together at the plea, “I didn’t even wanna come tonight.” 

“Oh, come on,” he leaned back down till his nose ghosted against your own, “I’m too tired to walk across campus right now, and if I’m tired, then I can only imagine how you must feel. Come on, just crash here tonight, do it for me,” he croaked, “and you’ve been so boring all evening, barely had a sip of anything, so at the very least you owe me this.” 

“But–”

“You can pop in some earplugs, then you won’t even know the difference,” his lips began to flutter across your cheekbone till his voice tickled your ear, all the while the party right downstairs still boomed above his manipulative murmurs. 

And though you knew that it wasn’t true, that even if you could somehow block out the noise, you still couldn’t stop the base from rocking the entire house and make you dizzy as you laid in your stepbrother’s bed. So, as fear arose inside of you at the thought of telling him no, you instead heard yourself timidly whispering, “…alright…”

You’d managed to slip out of Steve’s bed without waking him up before you then sneaked down the long hallway to borrow the upstairs shower. 

Though once the water was drizzling down upon you, in the relaxing steam that floated around your form, your thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to the night before, though not of the manner that your stepbrother had put you to sleep, but instead to the sinful sounds of his best friend that you’d overheard. 

Swiftly, the pads of your fingers began to draw needy circles over your clit to try and dull the scandalously intruding thoughts, though even when you detached the showerhead to spray the gush of water directly against your pussy, a dire problem continued to stand in your way, like you were peeping over the edge of a cliff, too petrified to jump by yourself. 

However, as time began to slip away from you, the door suddenly barged open.  

Your stifled whimpers promptly ceased echoing in the shower as your eyes snapped to the figure now standing in the doorway. 

“B-Bucky!” you dropped the showerhead in your humiliated scramble to twist your nude frame out of his sight. Picking it up as it began to spray up into your face, you swiftly spun around and splayed your hands across your frame in a feeble attempt at covering yourself up.   

“You do know that this door locks, right?” he chuckled as he gently pushed the door closed behind him, the one that you had apparently still been half-asleep when you forgot to bolt, “that’s twice now,” he pointed out with a grin as his stare pierced through the fogged up glass, deja vu smacking you in the face as well, as he reminded you of the incident that had happened over the summer break, “I think if it ever happens a third, then I should win a prize or something.”

“Get out!” you screeched, embarrassment eating you alive. 

“Why? So that you can go back to getting yourself off?” 

“I–,” your head swiftly soared to catch sight of him over your shoulder, “I wasn’t–…” before you squeezed your eyes shut and huffed, “oh my god, I hate you…” 

“I know,” he simply smiled at your groan before he shifted to go grab his toothbrush from the cabinet.

But before he could be on his way and slip back out, your head started spinning as your gaze traced him on the other side of the glass, going about his business as if you weren’t standing stark naked one single meter away from him. 

“W-wait!” you then heard yourself squeak right as his fingers reached for the door handle. Glancing back over his shoulder at you, the words that then slipped out of your lungs were accompanied by a shiver that trickled down your spine, “…could you–…”

Blinking back at you, his eyes faintly squinted as a smirk plagued his lips, “could I what?” 

“Well, I just–,” your breathing was ragged as you averted your gaze, “I’m having a bit of trouble making myself–, uhm…”

“Aw,” his broad shoulders gently shook in a laugh as he then began to mock, “what’s the matter? Can you not make your little pussy cum? Have you still not learned how to do it on your own?” 

“I–, n-no!” you hastily lied, “I’ve totally done it myself, loads of times, what are you talking about?” even though the truth actually was that the sought-after high was still too overwhelming to reach on your own, “I just right now when I tried that it won’t happen… I–… I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” 

“Well, maybe you’re doing it wrong,” he shrugged, “or school’s just got you crazy stressed out or something, so it can’t snap into place.”

“Yeah?” a small drop of assurance settled within your belly, “…so would you maybe–, I mean, I know that you’ve done it for me before, but still, could you maybe help me out a tiny bit?” 

A big huff flowed from his lungs as Bucky then pretended that your request was something he wished to be no part of, “alright,” he teasingly grumbled, “I guess I could lend you a hand, but just saying, it’ll cost you.” 

“Cost me?” 

“Yeah,” he tried to keep a straight face, “I don’t give out favours free of charge.” 

“Fine,” a short giggle bubbled out of you as you assumed his dramatic terms were but a joke, “I promise I’ll be your getaway driver on your next diamond heist or whatever.”  

His tongue briefly flickered out to wet his lips before he simply chuckled condescendingly in return, “you’re cute,” before he then began to strip out of his sleepwear. 

Though you probably shouldn’t have been surprised, in your mind, you had merely pictured that he would stay on the other glass a moment longer to give you the guidance that you needed, only explaining what you should do and nothing more before he then left you to carry it out on your own. 

“What are you doing?” your eyes instinctively grew wide as his clothing hit the tile floor. 

“Sweetheart,” his head swiftly cocked, “you literally just begged all pathetically for my help,” he pushed his underwear down, revealing his beast of a cock, already half-hard and heavy, resting like a freaking baseball bat against the top of his thigh, “so that’s what I’m doing,” he brashly stated before he then joined you in the shower. 

Grabbing your face with both of his hands, he then held you in a kiss until the tension in your body gradually began to fade away. When you started to suck in deep breaths through your nose, truly landing in the devilish deal you’d just agreed to, one of his fiendishly, inked hands then began to wander. Skimming down over your wet skin, his palm first caught your tits, briefly giving one of your nipples a teasing tug, before his touch strayed down to knead your ass and draw you that much closer to his frame. 

With the showerhead still clutched in your hands, hugged closely to your body, and gushing onto the both of you, the drawn-out kiss then broke when Bucky’s hand snuck down between your legs. Swiftly, he sought out your clit, already puffy and throbbing from the way you had bullied it mere moments earlier. 

However, then, as you blinked up at him, mouth falling open in a gasp, he suddenly spun you around for your spine to be pressed up against his brawny chest, before stealing the showerhead from your grasp. 

Extending his thumb, he dexterously switched the settings and changed the flow of water from several small and gentle streams to one thicker, and much stronger, jet. 

A whimper rolled off your tongue as he then held the gush down to spray its firm pressure directly against your little pearl, and as you had already been so worked up when he found you, it didn’t take very long at all before you finally tasted that sweet high that you still weren’t yet brave enough to catch on your own, his expert touch instead guiding you there. Your eyes squeezed shut as, not only your head fell back against his broad shoulder, but your knees also threatened to give out, lending him to snake a swift arm around your waist to keep you from collapsing entirely. 

“Oh my god,” you panted, completely melted back against his bulky physique, “how did you do that so fast?”

And as the muffled grunt, that had vibrated in his chest at your unravelling, morphed into a cocky chuckle that tickled your ear, he simply murmured, “you’re welcome,” before he then pressed a peck to the top of your head and began to tilt your body back away from his. 

But at the loss of contact, one of your hands suddenly shot out in desperation before he could disappear completely, “wait, please I–,” you gasped foggily, “more–, I want more–, please don’t stop–”

And as you peeked over your shoulder to meet his eye, a glimmer flickered in his blue ones, “oh, looks like someone’s getting greedy,” he smirked, “you finally developing a taste for all of this? Becoming the little slut we’ve been telling you all along that you actually are?” 

“No, I’m not a–,” you couldn’t even echo the same word out loud, “…Bucky, please? I just–, I can’t do it on my own–, I mean, not like you or any of the others can…”

“Well, you’ve just not had enough practice yet,” his palm swept up to find your jaw as he took a step back in your proximity, “you’ll get there if you just listen to Steve and stick with all of us,” he uttered as he turned your head for his lips to capture your own.

As he kissed you over your shoulder, his now raging hard-on digging into the softness of your bottom, he then blindly slotted the showerhead back into place on the wall, lending the water to drizzle down over the both of you as he swept his tongue ravenously against your own. 

His feet then began to shift on the wet floor, and steered your own to move slightly as well, till your tits smooshed up against the cool tile wall of the shower. When his lips then faded and began to migrate down and past your neck, you continued to peek back at him as he then sank down onto his knees behind you. Grabbing your hips, he yanked your butt closer to his head till your back was arched and your arms were folded up against the wall for support. Burying his face in between your thighs, he then spent the next chunk of time eating you out till he once again had you tumbling over the edge.

Though after you’d cum this second time, he feverishly reached up and shut off the water before he plucked up your dazed form and dragged you out of the shower, planting you instead on the counter beside the sink. 

Still all dizzy, you swayed slightly as Bucky then took a few steps away from you, enough to be out of your reach. 

“I wanna see how many of your fingers you can fit inside that pretty little pussy of yours,” he demanded as his stare coasted down to your core, utterly on display as your limp legs hadn’t drifted closed yet. 

“W-what?” you breathed, still too hazy to keep your heavy eyelids from temporarily blinding your vision. 

“You heard what I said,” he briefly let a dollop of spit drop down into his open palm before he then grasped his thick girth and initiated a silky stroke, “show me.”  

Though try as you might, the max you managed to cram inside of your drooling cunt was three of your digits as your stare stayed glued on his fist working over his big cock. 

However as he watched you reach your capacity, he then stepped back up and, with his free hand, joined your own touch between your thighs. At first, as his gaze found your own and held it captive, the tips of his fingers traced your hole, all stretched out by your comparatively thin digits. But then, gradually, he traded your own touch out with his. To begin with, his finger hooked under one of your knuckles to pull one of your fingers out of your pussy, barely waiting any time at all before he then swapped places with it and slid his own digit in beside the two of yours that remained.

The stretch sent a shiver trickling down your spine and you swiftly tilted closer to crash your lips messily against his own. 

And soon, none of your own fingers remained as he instead stuffed you full. Though you thought that two of his thick digits were a struggle, he somehow managed to work himself up and double it to four after he had coaxed your own touch away, his thumb being the only one he couldn’t cram inside, instead stretching it up to sweep against your swollen clit and roll it under the broad pad. His other hand stayed on his dick as your pussy began to stain his fingers with your cream, leaking needily into his palm. 

Though just before you could cum once more, his zealous touch suddenly disappeared, denying you of the luxurious sensation once again. As you desperately reached down to take care of it yourself, he swiftly swatted your hand out of the way. 

Both of his palms, still sticky from your essence as well as his own spit, then floated up to grasp the sides of your face before he then uttered, “grab my cock,” and frantically, you fulfilled his command as you shared his hot breath, “both hands, that’s it, good girl,” a gravelly groan rumbled in his throat as you wrapped your fingers around his fat girth and attempted a gentle stroke, “rub it against you,” he murmured as the tip of him was already mere inches away from your throbbing clit, “rub that big cock against your pussy, go on.”

And as you then tilted your hips and began to drag his hardness through your folds, parting your petals for his girth, a pout found your lips as you peeked down at his size as your juices soaked him, “why do you have to be so fucking big…” you heard yourself whine, “it’s not fair…” 

“Aw, what’s wrong, huh?” he huffed out a cocky grin as he promptly leaned in a bit closer, “are you tired of not being able to take me? I thought you liked all the fun ways we make it work since you won’t let me even try to stick it in, how scaredlittle you think I’m too huge for it to ever work.” 

“You are, that hasn’t changed, I’ve accepted that,” you puffed as you continued to tickle the bulbous tip of him against your core and drive yourself closer to the edge once again, “but I can just still, simultaneously, be a little sad about how I can’t do that with you, even with how crazy you make me, which is a mystery in itself, I don’t get it, frankly I think you’re a complete and utter asshole, but–, fuck… it’s like I lose my mind when I’m around you… all of you… I can’t even enter this house without forgetting my own name…” 

But then, just before you could catch another orgasm, a low growl crackled in Bucky’s throat as your words caused him to finally snap, grasping your frame and tossing you over his shoulder before he nearly ripped the door off its hinges from how feverishly he yanked it open.

Stalking down the long hallways that slithered throughout the upper floor of the fraternity, fear arose in you at the thought that someone might spot you, though as you squeaked about it through your billowing laughter, Bucky only smacked your ass in return, lending you not to notice the handful of doors that clicked open behind you. 

As you reached his room, your giggle still remained as he dropped you down upon his bed. You were too focused on him as he sank down over you to notice how he hadn’t bothered to shut the door. 

Messily making out, his fingertips tickled your sides as he wrestled you lightly, grasping both of your wrists and pinning them above your head before his hips then grinded down against your own. Though your legs didn’t manage to tangle around him before he then flipped you around to lay on your stomach beneath him. 

It continued to be all fun and game as he twisted your squirming hands down to the small of your back, even as he reached for a pair of handcuffs that rested on his nightstand before swiftly clicking them around your wrists, as you merely thought that it was something new and exciting, not him on the verge of crossing a line.

Though as he then yanked your hips up off of the mattress, your knees curling beneath you as your face and shoulder smooshed further into the bed, you playfully wiggled your ass back at him as you fully expected to feel the touch of his fingers or his tongue once again. But to your surprise, when you did feel something brush against your weepy cunt, your giggle finally ceased, gradually fizzling out as you realised what exactly it was that you were feeling caress against you. 

“Wait, what are you–,” your neck twisted further as you tried to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, though only managed to spot his silhouette looming behind you. 

Cock throbbing in his grasp, he stared down at your pussy as he swept his intimidating girth against it, “you know, you have been such a fucking tease for way too long… only giving me handjobs or rubbing that little cunt on me, basically taunting me, while the rest of these assholes get to have you, all of you, anyway they want,” he stopped nudging your buzzing pearl and instead dragged through your petals till he found your opening, quivering and dripping as he nuzzled against it, “I’m fucking tired…” he groaned slowly, “…so I’m done waiting… I’ll finally feel this fucking pussy wrapped around me whether you like it or not.” 

“But I’m not ready–, Bucky, wait!” you tried to wiggle away from him, but he only grasped your ass and brought you back flush against him, “let’s just talk about this for a second–”

“What’s there to talk about, huh?”

“It won’t fit!” you yelped into the sheets.

“Yeah, probably not,” he smirked from behind you, “but I don’t care… I’ll just make it fit,” he uttered before then attempting to sink it in, though without success, his massive cock instead slipped through your slick folds and dragged roughly across your clit. 

“Bucky, please! I’m scared!” you whimpered as his fat tip continued to nudge at your hole, smearing the mess leaking out of you further against your core, “you’re gonna break me in half!” 

“I know, fuck, I know,” he chuckled darkly as he kept up his efforts, “your little pussy is just too goddamn tiny for this,” he pointed out before continuing anyway and trying once again to bury himself in your warmth, though this time failing as well, “fucking shit!” he exclaimed as rage began to bubble within him, making him huff like a bull behind you. 

With a smack against your propped-up ass, he then took a step back before making his way around the bed to the nightstand. Once he’d grabbed a bottle of lube, he briefly dipped down to smother your frown with a peck. 

“Please, Bucky,” you tried to plea once again, “you can stop now. You tried and it didn’t work, so just–, we can do something else, whatever you want, just please don’t try again.”

“But this is the only thing I want,” he murmured before kissing your nose and disappearing back behind you once more.

As he settled back into the same position as before, he liberally glazed his cock with some of the lube, as well as smearing some on your already slick pussy too, even pushing some inside of you with one of his long fingers. 

And as he then attempted a third time, snapping his hips with all of his might, the very tip of him finally popped inside and an actual scream erupted from your lungs, partly from the severe stretch as he split you open with his monstrous girth, but also just from the pure shock of it miraculously working. 

“Ah!” your vision blurred up with tears and you could barely breathe as your poor pussy ached around his obscene size he tried to wreck you with, “Buck! It’s too big! It’s too big!” your mind began to grow fuzzy as you’d never experienced such an intense sensation before, “o-oh, fuck, please take it out, it hurts!” 

“Oh yeah, does it?” his palm swept up the goosebump-ridden skin on your back before he caught the cuffs that linked your wrists together, crudely tugging on them to drag you further down onto his cock, cramming even more of him inside of you, “it sure fucking looks like it, goddamn… I should take a picture of this shit, you’re so fucking stretched out right now, it looks like you might actually break on me,” his other hand drifted to your core to trace the way you struggled to take him. 

“Oh fuck, too much–, too much!” you began to sob as he began to buck his hips and bury himself further inside of you, “t-that’s too deep, Bucky!” 

“No, it’s not,” he chuckled breathlessly through a groan as he continued to stretch you to fit him, “I’m barely halfway.”

“Half–,” you gasped as it already felt as if he was so deep that you could feel him everywhere. From your toes that curled to all the way up in your fucking throat, there wasn’t a single part of you that didn’t flicker and spark for him like a bomb about to go off. 

And as he huffed behind you with every laboured thrust, his hips snapping to crave his way deeper into your sweetness, his hands on you got rougher as they began to come down upon the curve of your bottom, smacking it and making you clench achingly around him at each blow. 

The sniffles that filtered through your strangled moans then found Bucky’s ears, and he briefly tore his stare away from where he split you apart, to glance to your face and spot the tears that rolled down your cheeks. 

“Are you fucking crying right now?” he couldn’t help but huff out a faint and amazed laugh, “aw, that’s okay, baby,” your mouth then fell open as one of his thumbs moved to plug up your tiny asshole, “you can cry if you need to…”

But through the piercing stretch that terrorised your soul, like shocks of electricity flicking through your nerves, you began to notice the euphoria slowly overpowering the pain, confusing you from how the two mixed and mingled. And then suddenly, Bucky’s greedy thrusts started to sound wetter and wetter with each sloppy slam into your soaked pussy, soon coming to a crescendo when your walls promptly squeezed down around him so tight that it forced his huge cock back out as your cunt achingly gushed around nothing and your wobbly knees collapsed beneath you.

Though as you came crashing down upon the bed, he wasted no time at all sinking down with you, “fuck… you’re doing so good for me, you know that?” your eyes rolled as he hummed directly in your ear, “just a little bit more, okay? Just relax around me, let me in,” he groaned as he struggled a moment to stuff himself back inside, pushing past your trembling sensitivity to make room for his length once again.

Though when he sank in, a low and blissful groan rumbling in his chest, it vibrated against your spine as he nearly crushed you as his hips began to roll and rut down into you, burying himself even deeper than before. 

“Be a good girl, just lay right there and take it while I finally get to use this tiny little hole of yours,” he grunted as his efforts overstimulated you so fiercely that your legs trembled violently beneath him and drool began to trickle out of the corner of your mouth, soaking the sheets below, “mould you so good around me, make you take me, fit me perfectly, just the way you should, make you a pretty little fuckdoll for me…”

Though your face was twisted to face the door, it was a struggle to keep your eyes open, lending you only to notice the figures that filled up the exit when one of them took a step to the side and spoke up as he knocked on the neighbouring door. 

“Yo, Steve!” Thor slammed his fist against the door till it creaked open, “bro, come out here.” 

“Yeah, you gotta see this, man,” Ransom called out as well, his feet remaining in the threshold so his stare could stay glued on your cockdrunk visage. 

And when your stepbrother stepped out to spot what was happening just in the next room, he swiftly leaned his form against the doorframe as a wide grin bloomed on his features. 

“Holy shit,” Steve chuckled breathlessly as he stared at the pair of you in amazement, “well fucking done, Buck!” 

“Thank you,” the man that squished you further into the mattress chuckled smugly as he tangled a burly arm under your chin and let his inked bicep flex against your pulse and choke you lightly, “thank you very much.” 

“I mean, I for sure thought you’d have to hold out even longer,” Steve tilted his head slightly to catch a glimpse of how your cream stained Bucky’s cock as it helplessly leaked out of you, forming a messy ring around his fat girth. 

“Well, sometimes patience doesn’t get you what you want. Sometimes you just gotta stop playing by the rules and make life your bitch,” Bucky grunted before his lips began to nibble at your ear, “right, Y/n?” 

Scarcely registering their sinful words through your fucked out fog, all you could reply with was a slurred, “mmngmphh…” your mumbled moan only triggering Bucky to grow even more cocky than before. 

“That’s right, baby, I knew you could fucking take it. You didn’t, but I sure did,” he panted against your neck, “see, if you weren’t such a little prude, then you would have gotten this big dick so much earlier, wouldn’t you have liked that? Instead of being such a brat and making me wait till everyone else had gotten to use you as their own personal little fucktoy to get off with.”

And though you tried to answer, you instead heard your stepbrother chuckle over your pathetic moans, “fucking hell, look at how wrecked she is. Buddy, I think you might have actually broken her,” before he glanced over his shoulder at Thor, “hey, go get the other. Wake them up if you have to, they shouldn’t miss another second of this shit.” 

You barely noticed as the rest of the fraternity slowly filtered into the room as your eyes soon fluttered shut and yet another orgasm rocked your sense, your cunt creaming all over Bucky’s excruciatingly thick cock. When he then suddenly flipped you around onto your back, you dizzily discovered the audience that had formed as you hazily blinked around the crowd. Some were lined up behind Bucky, others off to the side of where you laid melted against the sheets, and a few remained staring in the doorway, though over half of them had already freed their own dicks, while the remaining few that hadn’t yet still only palmed their palpable tents as they watched intently.

A shrill yelp bubbled up your lungs as Bucky then tapped the hefty weight of his length against your overly sensitive pussy. Your legs were folded and crumbled on either side of your frame as he sloppily rubbed himself against your mess, letting the rest see just how much he had ruined you.

“You guys wanna see how pretty I can make her gape for me?” Bucky asked the others as his gaze stayed glued to your little hole, nuzzling against it as it looked as if it had snapped back into place, almost like he’d never been in there at all. 

And with the cheers that promptly rumbled behind him, he then repeatedly rammed his cock inside your cunt before retreating completely with the lewd pop of your poor pussy letting go of his monstrous girth. Each time he slid inside, he gradually ventured further, burying himself deeper before pulling back out and watching as your hole steadily relaxed for him, moulding to his size. At first, your leaky entrance only winked back at them all a brief moment before snapping back into place, till you eventually gaped properly enough for them all to applaud in awe as Bucky paused a moment to grasp you with both of his broad palms and spread you wide, holding you open for everyone a moment longer before your hole quivered back into place. 

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you then forced them to blink as you felt Frank momentarily step up beside you and swiftly free your hands from the cuffs that still kept them bound behind your back, seeing as you couldn’t possibly escape now that you were so cockdrunk you could barely stay awake. 

All of their deep voices and lewd comments washed over you like a stormy sea, crashing into you and making you even more lightheaded than before. 

Ari then shifted to kneel down next to you and scoop his palm under your head, tilting it up for your hazy vision to flicker down to the unobscured crude view of how your pretty pussy got impaled by Bucky’s obscene size, stretching you apart way beyond your limits. 

And as he mercilessly drove his cock into you, his balls managed to smack against your slick skin as he finally buried himself completely inside of your warmth, the tip of him not only diving deep enough to kiss your cervix, but to bump and bully against it with such force that it caused you to repeatedly lose your breath. 

You had never felt so full before in your life, surely too full, as even though you were blinking down at the hard evidence before you, you still didn’t fully believe that you were capable of such feats, of taking him the way that he made you. 

“O-oh, fuck…” you shakily whimpered when you caught sight of the way his monstrous size bulged through your belly, making it seem as though he was fucking straight through your pussy and into your guts.

Your teary eyes then flickered to find Steve in the crowd before one of your hands weakly grabbed for him. Seeing as it was the very least he could do, he granted you the comfort and closed the short distance, trading places with the frat’s president, before he grasped your trembling palm in his own. 

“Damn,” you faintly heard Curtis mutter as he stared, his girth ever throbbing in his fist, mirroring the rest of them, “maybe you should just make her cockwarm you for the rest of the day, just as a precaution to make it easier for you next time.”

“Oh, you’re right, she might need that princess treatment,” Steve murmured as he raised the back of your palm up to his lips for a brief peck, “you’d let him do that, wouldn’t you, sis? For me? Be good for my best friend?”

“Uh-huh,” you found yourself panting as their words flew straight over your dazed head as it jostled on the mattress each time Bucky’s hips snapped against your ass, your zealous slickness being so messy at this point that it clung to his skin as well and kept you both connected in glossy strings, like spiderwebs, each time his efforts retreated. 

“Shit,” Marc groaned as his fingers, tightly wrapped around his own dick, began to speed up, “this is so hot… I think I might blow my load.” 

“Me too, fuck,” Scott harmonized. 

“Cum in her mouth,” Bucky uttered, “go on, be a good girl, open up for them,” before you then felt your stepbrother beside you pry your lips apart mid-moan. 

And as the pair stepped up and, one by one, painted your breathless tongue with their essence, you heard Lloyd rumble firmly, “you better swallow every single drop they give you, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, doesn’t it taste good what you do to them, to all of us?” Billy purred before he let a dollop of spit drop from his lips into his palm as he paused momentarily before silkily stroking his length one more to you. 

“Maybe if you beg real pretty, it could become your dessert after every one of your meals,” Miguel suggested with a smirk, “but only if you’re good, then maybe you can have the privilege of being our little cumdump.” 

“Is that what you want?” Andy uttered huskily, his fevered efforts stealing some of his breath, “you wanna be Kappa Alpha Nu’s official little toy? Just be all fucking adorable and help us get off?”

But then Bucky let out a low chuckle as he shifted your feet to rest up upon his broad shoulders, “you’re saying that like she isn’t already…” he grinned proudly before sinking down closer and folding your body in half.

Your free hand clawed at his bicep as both of them flexed to keep him from crushing you as he tilted down to kiss you ravenously. His rhythm picked up till it reached a desperate pace, pumping his fat cock into you as he groaned against your lips. Though even after you felt his big dick twitch inside of you and pump your pussy full of his cum, his efforts didn’t cease, only degraded slightly as he shivered above you, stubbornly fucking you till you unravelled as well. 

With a ragged moan, he finally withdrew from your haven and reached down to messily rub his touch against your poor pussy, all swollen and puffy as it squirted once again for him, your juices weakly gushing all over the bed as his load too trickled out.

It was all a blur after that. 

At first, as you still laid there, panting and twitching at Bucky’s overstimulating touch that he hadn’t yet freed you from, the three frat guys who were looming right beside you, Thor, Curtis and Andy, decorated your heaving tits and stomach with their hot cum. 

After that, one by one, Miguel, Billy, Frank, Ransom, Lloyd and Ari stepped up and came wherever their heart desired. Some chose your exhausted face, all cute and breathless, blinking up at them, while others elected to finish on the soft peaks of your boobs, making you flash them your soft tongue, or even just paint your puffy pussy white and add to the mess already sticky and sore between your limp thighs. 

And lastly, having clearly edged in order to grant himself the honour, your stepbrother let go of your shaky hand and slotted himself in between your legs. Wasting no time teasing you, he plugged the very tip of him into your wrecked hole, making your whole frame briefly jump and quiver on the mattress before your soreness clenched around him and milked him dry as he swiftly emptied his balls inside of you. 

“Well, I think it’s official,” Steve exhaled when he finally pulled his dick back out to admire his cum slowly leaking out of you, “she is finally ready and broken in enough for us to start having some real fun…” his eyes then briefly flickered around to his friends beside him as he uttered, “gentlemen?” before his gaze once again returned to you, “let’s begin.”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ctrlkenma]

☆ I'M GETTING RIPPED TONIGHT, RIP THAT PUSSY!

☆ — summary. the hq boys, and how they work you out ☆

☆ — content warning. f!reader, timeskip, vaginal fingering, oral sex, slight degradation (kenma), bimbofication (kenma), streamer!kenma, streamer!user, pre-established relationships, mature.

☆ — word count. 0.9k.

☆ — includes. kei tsukishima, kenma kozume, ☆

☆ KEI TSUKISHIMA.

The Sendai Frogs exhaust him to no extent. 

Truth be told, they conducted themselves as if they were juniors in high school, the lot of them. If he’d known any better, Kei would’ve thought he was being compensated for chaperoning his team - the designation as a “middle blocker” long forgotten as his time, in lieu, was spent predominantly providing adult supervision for those who missed the memo on maturity.

In spite of the many years he spent pottering in high school volleyball, Tsukishima considered himself to be equipped with the skills needed to start childminding (though, granted, not at such an early age).

In contrast though, Kei, despite the nonchalant facade he upheld that many failed to peer through - found his energy siphoned due to the constant immaturity - to phrase it better, his teammates’ stupid fucking antics - Kyotani’s continuous yelling and Koganegawa’s talkative nature, not to mention their overuse of that annoying, cliched nickname - “tsukki”, which ticked him off even more because it sounded so fucking pathetic if it didn’t come from you.

With volleyball practice feeling more like babysitting than training, Tsukishima was left with a single, solitary outlet through which he could channel his simmering frustration in a relatively healthy way—sex. For Kei, especially, that translated into eating you out, legs sprawled open as you lay on the sofa, exhausted from the constant edging and quite frankly, desperate for an orgasm. 

“Kei…” You beg, lip quivering as you throw your head back, finally being met with the incredible sensation of stimulation onto your clit, his hands prying open your thighs impossibly further, tongue invading your wet entrance as his nose pressed against your core, glasses fogged up from the heat you emanated. 

If Kei died at this moment, he’d leave a happy man.

At last, those sweet, saccharine words bless his ears as if they were a long awaited lullaby - a broken, hushed cry of the epithet, “T-Tsukki!”, which, really, as all it took for Tsukishima to come undone, lapping up at your sweet release as he finally drags down his boxers, providing some much needed oxygen to his erection, which would finally be met with sweet relief once plunged inside your warmth. 

☆ KENMA KOZUME.

There was, perhaps, nothing in this world Kenma Kozume abhorred more than fanmeets.

They wore him out, unnecessarily so, as all it required was to sit still in a chair and talk hours on end about the importance of gaming to the community and whatnot at a fucking twitch panel, as if Kenma’s job didn’t just consist of streaming whenever he felt like playing on his PC.

The job was rewarding, yes, but it was just as time-consuming and annoying, despite the income it may have generated. Being under the constant, watchful eye of anonymous users and being under public scrutiny served as an added bonus (read: sarcasm) to fuel his ever-thriving ego.

It didn't help that you were in the same boat as him - sitting in front of a screen 25/8, bimbofied for all to see. That, perhaps, and seeing you be unceasingly sexualized perhaps replaced his hatred for public speaking and social interaction, dethroning it from the top spot. Honestly, how much lower could your audience stoop? As if having thirst traps be made of him over the littlest things weren’t enough, he now had to endure the thousands of fans you boasted as you sat next to him on that very panel. 

And so, you found yourself being pushed against the wall by a very sweaty, excessively worn out, and an extremely hormonal Kenma. 

“Ken, what are you-,” you started, but he cut you off with a soft “shh,” his hand reaching to latch the door, locking it with a soft click!

“You liked them looking, didn’t you?” His voice was a low growl against your neck, possessive. He pressed wet, insistent kisses to your skin as his hands slid down, a slow, deliberate exploration before he roughly shoved your panties down to your ankles. He didn't hesitate, his fingers plunging deep inside you, slick with your immediate arousal. The sound was wet and messy, a stark contrast to the sterile environment. “You fucking loved the attention, didn’t you? Look at this mess,” he muttered, his fingers churning within you, pulling apart your folds, smearing your slickness across your skin. “So fucking wet for them.” His taunt was a breath away from your lips as he captured them in a hard, wet kiss, his fingers inside you now pumping with a brutal, uneven rhythm.

You gasped, a choked sound as your hips instinctively bucked against his hand. Kenma’s fingers were relentless, stretching you, exploring every ridge with a rough possessiveness. He slid in another finger, forcing you wider, the wet sounds echoing in the small room. He began to fist you, his knuckles pressing deep, his movements almost violent as he filled you completely. It was rather animalistic, sloppy, and undeniably intimate, unlike the secretive, vanilla moments you shared with Kenma, in the quiet of your bedroom. He moved within you like he was trying to claim every inch, his grip tight and demanding. Just like getting that perfect S+ on 1980’s mode in Yandere Simulator – precise, brutal, and utterly focused.

“Tell me their eyes on you meant nothing,” he grunted, his thumb pressing hard against your swollen clit, grinding against it as his fingers continued their brutal work inside. You cried out, your body arching, the sensations too intense, too raw. He continued, his fingers a slick, messy whirlwind within you, until your muscles clenched around his hand, a shuddering orgasm ripping through you. The sounds were wet - desperate, rather, a testament to his forceful invasion.

Kenma held you pinned, his fingers still buried deep, feeling the violent tremors of your release. “Still think they deserved to look?” he whispered, his voice thick with a possessive hunger, frown replaced with a mocking smirk painted across his face, hands now soaked in the aftermath of your orgasm.

©ctrlkenma, 2025. no redistribution, translation or plagiarism is authorized.

[spatialwave]

Hi!! For the kiss prompts, I’d love to read something Reader x Viktor with the scenario ‘kisses meant to distract’ + the dialogue “i think i deserve a kiss” 🥹 thank you!!

tysm for sending this ask!!!! this was so cute to write and it healed me ahaha

why would you stay?

➸ pairing: viktor x gender neutral!reader ➸ word count: 680 ➸ tags: mdni! fluffy, hurt/comfort, soft kissing, guilt, sweet ending, reader is in a long-term relationship w/ viktor, no use of y/n. ➸ notes: asked from this prompt list!!

Hextech was a blessing and a curse. It’s components to better society had been coming to fruition, but at the expense of Viktor’s sanity. Hexgates weren’t enough, all they had done was progress the city of Piltover. Nothing had been done to help anyone else. The people in Zaun—himself.

The pain in his body had become unbearable most days, his body frail and weakening with every passing moment.

He wondered why you stuck around all these years, staying at his side as his health deteriorated. You weren’t married, children weren’t on the agenda, and all he did was spend countless hours in his lab with Jayce and Sky.

It wasn’t fair to you.

Yet, you stayed.

Stopping by with a home cooked meal that he picked at, or offering your presence for a few hours while you silently read at the table in his lab while he studied the glowing hexcore.

There was a particular week when Viktor lost all hope. Jayce, now head of the council, had spent less time with the research–in favour of protecting Piltover. A drastic turn of events from their previous shared hopes and aspirations, a way to help rather than hurt.

He sat at one of the aqueducts that sent water from Piltover into the fissures, looking out at the skyline and holding his weight onto his cane. His eyes were tired and cold, souless.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said calmly, causing Viktor to jolt and glance in your direction from the sudden intrusion, “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” he cleared his throat, attempting to sit up straighter with his hands still holding tightly to the handle of his cane, “needed some time to, eh… think.”

Sitting next to him on the ledge, you rested your cheek against his shoulder and a hand curved over his slender thigh.

“...about us?” Your voice was hushed, eyes watching the water stream below you.

Viktor’s eyes widened, shaky as he stared at you. You were nuzzled against him, the look of a sad pout covering your face. He could sense the insecurity radiating from you.

“About the hexcore,” he answered honestly, sighing as he pressed his lips against the top of your head, resting there as a fragile hand held the small of your back, “about hextech… I can’t seem to figure it out. It’s been weeks of nothing. It’s… it’s…”

You lifted your head up, lips twitching as you pressed a finger to Viktor’s lips, shushing him. Your eyes flickered between his.

“It’s eating you alive,” you finished his sentence, but not in the way he had intended.

Your heart was heavy for him. Any insecurities of yourself were long gone, and you understood the pain that Viktor was experiencing. It was defeat, feeling unworthy—terrified of death.

You felt terrible for even thinking it had anything to do with you.

“Kiss me,” you mumbled, the finger placed against his lips replaced by your thumb as you grazed it along his bottom lip. Your intent to distract him from the thoughts that weighed him down.

Viktor bore a quizzical look, brows knotting together as he blinked at you.

“Come on,” you murmured, “I think I deserve one. I haven’t seen you in days.”

The corners of his lips twitched, for once, his mind not clouded by thoughts of the hexcore. Instead, fixated on you and the way you looked at him so lovingly with your big doe eyes. How was he so lucky to have someone like you?

He dipped forward, your thumb dropping as his lips pressed to yours. A soft kiss, one that bridged the gap that had begun to split you apart. They moved together fluidly, one of his hands cupping your jaw, as yours pressed against the front of his shoulders.

“I love you,” Viktor murmured, breaking the kiss as your lips brushed together, “thank you… for staying.” His thanks were genuine, you could see the way the guilt flickered in his golden eyes.

“Kiss me again, and I’ll forgive you,” you smiled, closing your eyes as Viktor obliged, smiling against your lips.

[jinjoohaa]

Jealousy looks good on you, baby

nanami hugs a girl infront of you (Roommate! AU)

CW: NSFW, explicit sexual content, nipple play, possessiveness, breeding talk, jealousy, age gap, light humiliation, dirty talk. 18+ only.

The warm Friday night air clings softly to your skin, the scent of waffle cones and melted sugar floating around you as you stand before a glowing ice cream stall. The board above you lists too many flavors, all chalked up in messy cursive— caramel, cotton candy, triple chocolate fudge, blueberry cheesecake…

You chew your bottom lip, hands folded nervously in front of you as you scan the options.

“I—can’t decide…” you mumble.

“Buy all of ‘em,” Gojo says immediately, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a kid on a sugar high, sunglasses pushed up into his white hair. “I’ll pay. Just blink twice if you want me to fund your sweet-tooth era.”

Nanami sighs beside you. “You’re not paying.”

“Says who?” Gojo smirks. “You took her out but I’m the one who makes her smile.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” Nanami mutters.

You glance up at them both, cheeks already warm. Gojo’s grin is wide and chaotic. Nanami’s stoic, hands in his pockets.

You shift on your feet, heart fluttering. Honestly, you’re still recovering from yesterday—bruises high on your thighs hidden under your skirt, soreness that hasn’t left. Nanami had held your trembling body all night, apologizing under his breath, lips pressed to your temple, promising—

“I’ll make it up to you. This weekend. Ice cream. Just us.”

Except Gojo overheard.

And now here he was, ruining the peace.

“Oh, oh—try that mango one. Mango makes everything better,” Gojo says, tugging lightly at your sleeve. “Like, imagine it melting on your tongue while someone’s fingering you. Messy. Hot.”

You suck in a breath, eyes going wide. “G-Gojo!”

He just chuckles, shameless and unbothered, then leans down to whisper near your ear, “Or do you prefer chocolate? Because, baby, chocolate and moaning sounds like a combo I’d pay to hear.”

You try not to combust on the spot.

Nanami exhales deeply. “Stop talking.”

Just then, a voice calls out from across the street—smooth and playful.

> “Kento~!”

Nanami turns, brows furrowed. Gojo does too.

And then her voice registers. You look just in time to see her: tall, elegant, maybe in her early thirties, blonde waves swept back in a high twist, a sharp black blazer hugging her curves. Red lipstick. Confident heels. A smile that could kill.

Gojo whistles low. “Damn. Older women are always a blessing for my pretty eyes…”

You go quiet. Nanami's expression softens the second recognition hits. He smiles back—smiles—and lifts a hand in greeting.

> “Baby,” he says gently to you, touching your shoulder. “Pick something you like, hmm? I’ll be back in a minute.”

Your lips part to reply, but he's already walking across the street.

Your heart sinks a little. Just a little.

Gojo keeps talking, mostly to himself. “You think she spanks men for fun? She gives off that boss lady dominatrix vibe. Shit, I’d let her tell me to sit, and I’d bark. Proudly.”

You blink at him, mouth twitching, but your eyes keep slipping across the road. Nanami’s posture is relaxed—he’s not usually like that. The two of them talk, and she laughs, her hand brushing his forearm.

“Maybe I should get the vanilla,” you murmur, too soft.

"Mhmm you sure you're a vanilla girl?" Gojo smirks.

He picks up a sample spoon, dips it into the pistachio, licks it once, then makes a face. “Nah. That’s a bad head flavor. You want something creamy. Like hazelnut. Or caramel. Something that melts easy. So when it drips on cunt, I can just lick…”

He mimics licking it off his wrist.

You squeak, tugging at your skirt. “G-Gojo… there are kids here…”

“There’s life lessons here,” he retorts with a wink.

Your attention drifts back across the road. Nanami’s laughing now—laughing. You pout slightly, eyes burning even though you tell yourself it’s nothing. Just an old friend. An ex, maybe. He’d never said. He wasn’t the type to hide things, but still…

When they hug, something inside you twists.

And then he’s coming back, straightening his sleeves, walking towards you.

“Have you picked?” he asks, voice smooth, eyes on you.

You nod, pointing weakly to the blueberry cheesecake.

Gojo hums something under his breath. You catch the words “lick” and “cream” but don’t want to ask.

Nanami pays. You’re too quiet now, licking the corner of your spoon as you three begin walking home. Gojo talks enough for all three of you, arm slung lazily around your shoulders like a cat in heat.

You keep sneaking glances at Nanami, trying not to think of her laugh. Her lipstick. The way he smiled at her like—

And beside you, Gojo’s fingers tap-tap along your shoulder, his voice low and smug.

The walk back home is filled with low chatter—Gojo is talking a mile a minute about some anime theory that somehow ties back to boobs and ice cream—but you don’t catch most of it.

You’re quiet.

Too quiet.

Your fingers curl tighter around the paper cup in your hands, the ice cream inside mostly melted now. It tastes sweet on your tongue, but your expression doesn't match. You’re trying not to pout. Really, you are. But every time the image of that woman hugging Nanami flashes behind your eyes, something in your chest just drops.

Gojo glances down at you as you trail beside him, head a little low.

“Hey, bunny,” he nudges you gently with his elbow. “You okay?”

You nod quickly.

“…You didn’t like the ice cream, huh?”

You blink up at him. “No—it’s not that. I—”

“You’re pouting,” he says in your ear.

“I’m not,” you whisper back, even though you definitely are.

Nanami slows his steps until he’s walking on your other side, eyes narrowing as he watches you. You don't meet his gaze.

“You cold?” he asks, already unzipping his coat.

You shake your head, but your voice betrays you. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t listen.

Nanami wraps his coat over your shoulders anyway, hands lingering on your arms for a second longer than needed. The warmth makes you sink into the fabric without thinking.

“Thank you…” you murmur.

“You're quiet,” he says under his breath, like he’s filing that thought away.

When you reach the apartment, the door creaks open to the familiar scent of home. The living room is dim. Toji’s passed out on the couch, one arm draped over his face, mouth open slightly. Geto’s door is shut, faint music playing behind it.

You toe off your shoes quietly, still wrapped in Nanami’s coat.

Gojo—of course—doesn’t know how to be quiet.

The moment you try to step into your room, he squeezes in right behind you.

“Hey, hey—don’t shut me out. I missed you.”

“I...I was with you just this morning,” you whisper, glancing at Nanami over your shoulder.

Gojo grins. “Yeah, when you were bouncing on my cock and making the prettiest little sobs I’ve ever heard. Doesn’t count as ‘quality time’.”

Your face turns crimson. “G-Gojo!”

He steps closer, arms ready to wrap around you—when Nanami grabs the back of his collar and yanks him out of your doorway like a misbehaving mutt.

Gojo stumbles back into the hallway. “HEY! Rude.”

Nanami slips inside your room and closes the door behind him—firmly.

Gojo starts a full-blown tantrum outside. “You two are selfish! I offer free love and look what I get! Used and thrown away like a fuckin' tissue—”

“Gojo, bed,” Nanami snaps.

Gojo groans. “Ughhhh. Fiiine. Just so you know, this is why I’m emotionally distant with men.”

You hear him muttering something about being “underappreciated” as he stomps off to his room.

The door clicks softly behind him.

Now it’s quiet.

Nanami exhales, hands loosening as he approaches you. His eyes are softer now, searching your face. “Did you enjoy the ice cream?”

You hesitate, then nod.

He steps closer. “You sure you’re alright… from yesterday?”

You glance down at your legs, where his grip had bloomed purple over your skin just last night. You’d clung to the sheets, sobbing, overwhelmed and wrecked, but never once saying no. He had taken you apart, lost in you, rough and gasping.

You nod again, more shyly this time.

“I’m okay,” you whisper.

He cups your face gently and kisses you—deep, warm, lips pressing slow like he means it. You lean into him without thinking, letting his hand slide to the small of your back.

When he pulls away, his voice is low. “Alright, sweetheart. Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He starts toward the door.

Your heart panics.

You speak before you think—your voice trembling.

“Uhmm… Nanami?”

He pauses, hand on the knob. Looks over his shoulder. “Yeah, baby?”

You shuffle in place, wringing your fingers. “I… uhh… can… can we… I-I wanna…”

His brows lift slightly. He turns to face you fully. “Hmm?”

Your throat goes dry.

“I wanna… do it.”

His expression shifts—amusement curving his lips, but his voice stays warm.

“Oh?” he hums, stepping toward you again. “Are you saying you want me to fuck you, baby?”

You nod once, face burning.

He tilts your chin up with two fingers. “Who am I to say no to that?”

He kisses you again, deeper, his tongue slow and thorough like he’s savoring the shape of your mouth. Then, he lifts you gently and lays you across your bed. His hands unbutton your top carefully—like he’s unwrapping something rare.

“Such a shy little thing…” he murmurs, dragging his fingers down your chest. “But look at you asking for my cock. You must’ve missed it, hmm?”

You whimper softly. “… Yeah.”

He smiles. “Then I’ll give it to you. Nice and slow.”

The room fills with soft gasps and the shuffle of fabric. Nanami’s mouth maps every inch of your skin—tongue warm, lips dragging over your neck, collarbone, breasts, thighs.

He kisses every bruise he left before.

“Sorry,” he whispers each time. “You were too good… couldn’t help myself.”

He doesn’t fuck you. Not yet.

First, he worships.

Hands firm on your thighs, spreading you, he licks your cunt like a man starved—slow, precise, tongue swirling around your clit, letting your moans get louder and messier until you’re writhing and clinging to the sheets.

Only then does he finally slide into you—inch by slow inch—watching your face the whole time.

“You always take me so well,” he breathes, groaning against your neck. “So tight—like your pussy doesn’t wanna let me go.”

You’re gasping, arms around his shoulders, every stroke making your mind blur. His hips move slow and deep, kissing the ache in your belly. His hand sneaks between your legs to rub you just right.

You cry out.

“Shh, shh… I got you,” he whispers. “You’re doing so good, darling.”

By the end, your skin is slick with sweat, your thighs trembling, every nerve burning in the best way. He stays buried inside you as you both pant for air, foreheads pressed together.

Then, he pulls out and gathers you close, arms snug around your waist. You’re tucked in his chest, your leg thrown over his, fingers tracing small circles on his ribs.

The room is quiet.

You swallow hard.

Your voice is soft.

“…Nanamin, can I… can I ask you something?”

His voice was still thick with post-orgasm warmth, low and soft against your temple.

"Oh? What is it, baby? Need something? Water?"

You shook your head slowly, your cheek still pressed to his chest where you could hear the steady beat of his heart.

"Uhmm... do you like my hair?"

He blinked, pulling back slightly to look down at you, brows slightly furrowed.

"Huh? Yeah, baby—of course I do. Your hair's just as pretty as you. Why ask me that all of a sudden?"

You avoided his eyes, fiddling with a strand of your hair nervously.

"Nothing, just..." you mumbled, "I was wondering if I should colour it."

Nanami hummed and brought a hand to your head, threading his fingers through your hair and tugging you closer until your chest brushed against his.

"Hmm? Why, baby? I mean, if you want to, of course. What colour do you have in mind, hmm?" he asked, voice turning warm again as he tilted his head and nuzzled into your chest. He licked over your nipple suddenly, making you jerk slightly.

"Ah! Ngh... uhm... do you think I’d look prettier in blonde?"

He paused to press a kiss against your tit, then glanced up.

"Blonde? Hmm. Well, I think black suits your eyes more—makes you look soft and sweet."

Another slow lick over your nipple.

"But yeah, you’d still be pretty in blonde. You’d look pretty with anything."

You blinked down at him.

"Ohh... hmmm..."

He raised an eyebrow, then chuckled softly.

"Why baby? Did Gojo ask you to colour your hair?"

You quickly shook your head, lips pressing together.

Nanami smirked and leaned up to kiss your lips, a slow, lingering kiss that soothed your nerves.

You gently pulled away, slipping from the bed, naked still, as your eyes caught sight of his coat on the table. You padded over, slipped it over your shoulders, and hugged the fabric close.

Nanami sat up on the bed, admiring the view with a soft groan.

"Nanamin… do I look good in this?"

His eyes dragged over you like hot honey, and he huffed a little laugh.

"In a blazer? Of course, yeah. You look like a corporate baddie who’s about to ruin a man’s life."

You blushed a little, biting your lip.

"S-So… does this style suit me more?"

He narrowed his eyes, sensing the undertone in your voice.

"You look good in everything, baby. No matter what you wear."

You hesitated, then mumbled,

"But... d-do you like this type of dress more than… my usual?"

Nanami stood, walking over to you completely naked, still semi-hard and completely unbothered by it. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in.

"I didn’t say that." He kissed your forehead.

"I said you always look pretty. Whatever you wear."

You stared up at him with wide eyes before slowly sitting on his lap, facing him—skin to skin now, his cock twitching against your thigh. You curled your arms around his neck.

"Can I ask you something again?" you asked quietly.

He smirked, brushing his thumb along your jaw.

"Oh? You sure have a lot of questions tonight. Come on, ask me."

You bit your lip.

"Who… who was that woman?"

You tried to sound casual, keeping your tone soft, neutral. But he picked up on it right away.

Nanami blinked, then gave a small exhale.

"An ex-colleague. We worked together for about five years."

"Were you close with her?"

"Not really. Just professional stuff. I saw her today after more than a year."

Your fingers fidgeted with the lapel of his coat.

"Are… are you going to see her again?"

Nanami tilted his head slightly.

"She mentioned grabbing a coffee sometime, just to catch up. Why, baby?"

You looked away.

"No… nothing..."

He went quiet for a moment. The silence hung in the air before you whispered again.

"Uhm... Nanamin?"

"Yeah?"

You took a shaky breath.

"D-Do you like... women your age more?"

He blinked, brows furrowing, before his face broke into an incredulous little chuckle.

"Ohh... so this is what it’s about, huh?"

"Wh-What—" you quickly shook your head, eyes wide, cheeks burning.

"Jealous, baby?"

"I’m not—jealous! Why would I be—"

"Mmhm." He leaned in, kissing your pout. "My pretty little girl’s all possessive for me, huh?"

You looked away again. He cradled your face with one hand and murmured,

"She’s just an old friend, baby. Married. Has kids. Even if she wasn’t—it wouldn’t matter."

He pulled your face back to his.

"I have you. Yeah?"

You looked into his eyes, soft and hopeful.

"Promise?"

He smiled—and then bit down on your nipple without warning.

"Ah! Nanamin!"

"Promise." He grinned, lips tugging at your sensitive flesh before letting go with a wet pop.

"Jealousy looks real good on you, baby..."

He moved to your other nipple and sucked hard, swirling his tongue.

"...but you’d look even better bouncing on my cock again, wouldn’t you?"

You slapped a hand over his mouth, your cheeks flushed.

"Don’t say that!"

He laughed against your skin, licking your palm teasingly before pulling your hand down and murmuring,

"C’mon... just one more round, yeah? Wanna see you fall apart on my cock again. Wanna fill you up, make sure you know who you belong to."

His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing tight.

"You’re not leaving this bed till I’ve fucked that jealousy right out of you, baby."

Your breath caught in your throat as he lifted you effortlessly, lining you up on his cock again—

and then he paused, smirking,

"Still wanna ask more questions, sweetheart? Or are you ready to get fucked dumb again?"

Got another ask where the reader gets jealous over nanami, So i had to 💅

Comment down to get tagged for any JJK content. Also I started a backup account in case something happens to my current one - just to be safe lol, So if y'all are interested, @jinjoohaa-blog do follow !

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[vultursvolans]

— ☆ contents: sfw, dad!sukuna handling the morning routine with your girls while you're away, fem!reader, vague hair descriptors for your babies (mention of messy hair and braids), maybe a little ooc, 0.8k wc | masterlist

"Please do our hair, Papa!"

And just like that, their adorable cheeks and flashy grins worked their magic, turning the rare morning without you into a delightful little circus.

It was honestly a travesty, a cosmic joke of the highest order that Sukuna—a man of men, built like he was meant to father sons upon sons—had been blessed with two daughters. And not just any daughters but two miniature versions of you.

You used to get so stressed leaving him alone with them but as they grew into their little personalities, you realised it wasn’t the girls you needed to worry about—it was him.

Sukuna stood in front of the mirror, holding a comb in his hand like it was a foreign weapon, and your youngest, who was perched on a stool in front of him, frowned when she saw that after all his awkward attempts, her hair was still a wild mess.

"Mama doesn't do it like this," she said matter-of-factly. All of four years old but already an expert in hair etiquette, apparently.

He sighed, glancing at her in the mirror with a look of defeat. “Well, guess what? Mama’s not here,” he gruffed, although his mouth twitched upward in amusement, "So you’ve gotta deal with me.”

She pouted as she crossed her little arms, scrunching her nose while giving him the tiniest glare. Sukuna chuckled at the sight. She looked just like you.

“But Mama doesn’t hurt me,” accusatory eyes pierced into her father as if the tugs at her scalp were intentional.

He stopped, deadpan, like he was facing the toughest opponent of his life. “You think I’m trying to hurt you on purpose?” He pointed at the comb, “This thing’s got a mind of its own.”

Your eldest daughter, who had been lounging on the futon and flipping through a picture book, piped up with a smirk, “Mama says you need to be gentle, Papa.”

“Gentle?” he muttered under his breath. She heard him regardless and nodded back at him.

Another dramatic exhale left his lips. He started again, much slower this time, painstakingly working the brush through his daughter’s hair. “Alright, princess, by the time I’m done, you’ll look so pretty, Mama's gonna be jealous. She might even eat you.”

The youngest giggled at that, wiggling in her stool as Sukuna brushed through the last tangle without any major casualties. As he tied off the braid with a ribbon, he stepped back, standing tall with his hands on his hips, impressed with his own work. “There,” he said with more confidence than he probably should, “Nailed it.”

She gave him a sidelong glance, still skeptical but he could see the admiration she was trying to hide, “It’s… okay,” she declared her final verdict. She was acting like it wasn’t the best job though her tone said otherwise.

Meanwhile, your eldest, still on the futon, didn’t miss a beat. “Mama would’ve done it faster.”

Of course, they adore you. Everyone did. But when you weren't around, Sukuna—who could wipe out an entire army with a single swipe and set whole villages aflame—found himself outmatched by a hair comb and two pint-sized versions of the love of his life. It’s no wonder you were able to tame the girls.

But he caught your eldest sliding a thumbs up from behind her book, her way of saying—It looks good, Papa.

And he thinks maybe he’s doing alright. Although, if you were here you would’ve probably swooped in and rescued him long ago whilst being heavily amused by his struggle. Of the two of you, it wasn't difficult to figure out who was more gentle and patient. He swore you could do motherhood in your sleep and he already knew you would tease him later about this.

“You’re thinking about Mama, aren’t you?” Your eldest asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, catching him off guard.

“What makes you say that?” He blinked at her. That slyness? Maybe she took after him more than he'd realised.

She shrugged with all the wisdom of a seven year old who’s already figured out her father. “You always get that look on your face when you’re missing her.”

Sukuna shook his head, “Well, your Mama makes this look easy.” He went back to inspecting his youngest’s head knowing deep down it was far from the flawless work you would’ve done, “Okay, princess. You’re good to go.” She beamed at him and hopped off the stool, happily oblivious to the way the ribbon had already started slipping.

As soon as she scampered off to grab her stuffed bear, he turned his attention to his eldest again, who was quirking her eyebrow and looking every bit like you.

“Listen, kid. Don’t think you’re getting out of this,” he pointed at the stool while giving her a playful glare, “Your turn.”

a/n: holding all of your hands during these trying times. this has been sitting in my draft since august so im glad it's finally out huehue

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[gf2bellamy]

good morning athena! if it’s okay with you i would like to request a spencer reid x reader fic where they go out on their first date to play pool (billiard). like they are cute and everything it’s their first date and spence is like holding her and helping her aim if you know what i mean and maybe in the end after he keeps winning he purposefully looses by hitting the 8 ball and reader gets so happy she won she lands a kiss on him hehe. thank you if you write this silly little request! 🥰

billiard — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing a/n: hi hi !! such a lovely idea <3 hope you like this !

“Wait, what? So I have to—” you trailed off, eyes narrowing as you tried to wrap your head around what he’d just explained.

Spencer, bless him, didn’t laugh at your confusion. He just smiled, all soft and patient like he always was. “You have to hit the cue ball,” he said, pointing gently. “The white one.”

You glanced down at the billiard table, then back at the cue in your hands like it was a foreign object.

The two of you were on your first date—an actual sit-down, proper-dinner kind of date, not just a coffee during a case or a small moment in a hallway. You’d eaten at a cozy little restaurant tucked into a quiet corner of the city, someplace warm with string lights in the windows and jazz in the background.

You’d thought dinner was the main event, but then Spencer had spotted the pool table nestled in the corner of the restaurant’s lounge, half-hidden by a velvet curtain and lit with a vintage green-shaded lamp.

His eyes had lit up like a kid, and the next thing you knew, you were standing here, cue stick in hand, staring helplessly at a sea of colorful balls.

“Right,” you muttered, trying to sound like you understood. “Totally.”

He smiled again, that crooked, endearing smile that made your stomach flutter. “Why don’t I start?” he offered, already stepping forward.

“Yeah, okay. Knock yourself out,” you said, waving him ahead with a mock-dramatic sigh.

Spencer leaned over the table , lining up his shot. And, of course, when he finally made his move, the crack of the cue ball against the others echoed perfectly—and two striped balls sank neatly into the pockets like he’d rehearsed it.

You blinked. “Show-off,” you muttered under your breath, teasing as you gave him a grin.

His lips twitched into a full smile. “Beginner’s luck,” he said, feigning modesty. But you knew better. Spencer didn’t really do luck.

Everything he did was precise, calculated. That just made him more charming, really.

Then it was your turn.

You stepped up, tried to mimic the way he held the cue, bent your knees a little, angled your arms. Spencer stood just to the side, close enough that you could feel his gaze but far enough to give you space.

Which, honestly, was worse somehow—it made you more nervous.

This was your first date. With Spencer Reid. Literal genius, national treasure of a man, and you were about to completely embarrass yourself with a stick and some balls.

You took your shot.

The cue ball rolled two inches… and stopped dead. No contact. Just a sad little nudge and silence.

There was a long pause. You stared at the ball like you could will it to move further.

“Oh no,” you said under your breath, then louder, “That was... that was really bad.”

You turned toward him, fully prepared to crawl under the table and live there forever.

But Spencer was smiling again, that soft, really unfair smile that made his eyes crinkle just at the corners. “You missed impressively,” he said gently, and then added, “Want me to show you how to line it up?”

You exhaled, pretending to be put-out. “Only if you promise not to put this in some mental file labeled ‘reasons not to go on a second date.’”

“Absolutely not,” he said, stepping closer. “This is going in the file under ‘reasons I really like her.’”

You tried not to melt.

Spencer hesitated as he stepped closer, hovering just behind you. “Okay—” he began, his voice quieter now, like he was talking more to himself than to you. He was trying to calm down, that much was obvious. You could almost feel the tension radiating off him, the careful way he moved, like he didn’t want to mess anything up by getting too close too fast.

You smiled softly to yourself.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly. Your voice was reassuring. You reached back gently and tugged him forward by the edge of his sleeve, encouraging him to close the space between you. His chest was at your back now, and you could feel the warmth of him.

He paused again, his breath catching. “So, um… try to hold the cue like this,” he said finally, voice just a little shaky, as if he were still trying to remember whether he was supposed to be teaching you or falling for you.

You nodded, letting him guide your hands. His fingertips brushed over yours as he adjusted your grip, careful and light. You could feel his breath ghost across your ear, warm and feather-soft, sending a quiet shiver down your spine.

He reached for your hand again, this time more confidently. His palm covered the back of yours, guiding it into the right position on the stick.

“There,” he said, a little steadier now. “Now, line up your shot... just like that.”

You could hardly focus on the game anymore, not with him so close, not with his voice in your ear and his hand resting over yours like it belonged there.

“I’m really bad at this,” you whispered with a half-laugh, more to break the tension than anything else.

“You’re doing fine,” he said, his voice softer now, comforting.

His words made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help but smile, the anxiety from earlier easing just a little.

His hand still rested over yours, guiding you. “Okay, now pull the cue back and make the shot,” he instructed gently.

You could feel his breath warm against the side of your face as he spoke.

You took a deep breath and focused on the table. Spencer’s hand over yours was reassuring, though it made the simple task of lining up the shot feel a little more… intense. You pulled the cue stick back, trying to steady your hand.

And then you did it.

You hit the cue ball, and it sailed forward with just the right amount of force. You held your breath as you watched, and then—clink, clink, clink—the ball dropped into a pocket with a satisfying thud.

“Oh my god, yes!” you cheered, almost jumping out of your skin. You felt the excitement bubble up as you turned to Spencer, grinning like you’d just won an Olympic gold medal.

Spencer stepped back, his smile wide. "Nice shot," he said, his voice warm with approval, though his cheeks were flushed with adoration at your sudden burst of enthusiasm.

The rest of the game consisted of small victories. You began to hit your shots with more confidence, gradually getting better with each turn.

Spencer didn’t make it hard for you, offering quiet encouragement whenever you missed, never mocking or teasing.

By the time you both reached the last few balls, you and Spencer were tied.

Spencer stood there, cue stick in hand, preparing for the final shot. You could see the concentration in his face, his brow furrowed slightly.

He lined up his shot and—clink—the cue ball bounced off the edge, grazing one of the other balls but failing to sink it into a pocket. He exhaled a sigh, a little exaggerated, as if disappointed in his own performance.

You didn’t think anything of it. “Nice try, Reid,” you teased, enjoying the friendly back-and-forth.

But Spencer’s smile was a little too knowing, his eyes gleaming with something that seemed playful. You didn’t catch on immediately.

“Looks like it's your turn,” he said, stepping back and motioning for you to take the shot.

You glanced at the table, the remaining ball just barely within reach, and felt a small rush of adrenaline. If you sank this ball... you would win.

Spencer was watching you with a big smile. He wanted you to win.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Just focus.”

The cue stick glided effortlessly as you took the shot, and—clink, clink—the final ball dropped neatly into the pocket.

You froze for a second.

And then, as realization set in, a grin broke across your face. “I won!” you exclaimed, half-laughing at the shock of it, the excitement bubbling up in your chest.

Without thinking, you turned around and wrapped your arms around Spencer, pulling him into a tight hug. You felt his arms around you almost instantly, as he returned the embrace, his grin spreading wide as he whispered, “Congratulations, you earned it.”

Before you even realized what you were doing, you pulled back slightly. And in that soft, breathless pause, without thinking—barely thinking at all—you pressed your lips to his.

It was just a gentle brush at first, a sweet, unexpected kiss that caught both of you off guard. For a brief moment, neither of you moved, both of you frozen in shock, realizing what had just happened. You felt your heart skip as you slowly pulled back, your eyes wide in surprise at your own boldness.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, the words tumbling out in a rush. You could feel the embarrassment creeping in. “I didn’t mean—”

But before you could finish, Spencer’s hand reached up to cup your face, his touch warm. “Don’t be,” he murmured softly, his voice low, reassuring you with the simplicity of the words.

And then, before you could process it, Spencer leaned in.

His lips found yours again, this time with more certainty, more intent. The kiss was soft at first, as if he were savoring the moment, testing the waters. And when you didn’t pull away, when you kissed him back just as gently, he deepened the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

It was like time stopped for just a moment.

When the kiss finally broke, you both pulled back slowly. Spencer’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted as if he was still trying to process everything that had just happened.

But his smile—his smile was soft, warm, and so utterly genuine that it made your heart flutter all over again.

"Can't wait to win on our next date," you mumbled, the words escaping you before you could stop them, a nervous laugh accompanying the statement.

Spencers hands still rested gently on your face, as though he didn’t want to let go of you. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze searching yours, the warmth in his eyes undeniable.

"Why’s that?" he asked softly, his voice a little teasing.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit embarassed. It was hard to admit what you really meant, but you couldn’t quite hold back the words.

"So I can kiss you again," you mumbled, the confession slipping out before you could think too much about it.

Spencer’s expression softened even further, his lips curving into that smile you’d quickly come to adore. He was quiet for a moment, just looking at you.

"You don’t have to win to do that," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. His thumb gently brushed across your cheek, sending a small shiver through you.

And before you could respond, before you could even process what he meant, Spencer closed the gap between you once more, his lips meeting yours with a gentleness that made your heart soar.

[yoonlyhan]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ in which itoshi sae judges your taste in men

being friends with sae is not really... that bad. at least you were not miserable, yet. you guessed it was because you and sae had the same vibes so that's why your friendship with him last long. because on times he would snap at you, you would snap back at him.

it was so funny being friends with sae. yet you still don't know if it was a blessing or a curse being friends with itoshi sae.

right now, you were guessing it's a real curse being with him. you weren't complaining though.

“can you... stop?”

sae was looking at you. one of his eyebrow was raising at you and at the same, there is a crease in between his brows. the corner of his lips visibly twitched at you.

“stop what?" you asked.

“whatever you were doing. you sound like you're summoning a demon.”

“you're overreacting. i was simply happy.” you grinned.

sae rolled his eyes and focused back on his phone. he was reading whatever about football or something, you didn't care about what he was doing on his phone. but he seems to be way interested on your phone.

“it's called delusional.” he said as if correcting me.

rolling your eyes, you turn your back at him and focused on your phone. specifically to an edit video from tiktok.

as you watch longer of edits of your favorite characters, sae seems to be annoyed by your frantic squeling of a whatever character you were watching.

“if i saw someone like this guy in real life, i'll definitely go up to him and propose.”

“ughhh, this guy! i swear on my life i'm gonna marry him.”

“shit? what happened to hi, hello? how are you?”

you were giggling. like crazy giggles. and sae... he—

you felt sae's presence beside you. you glances at him and saw him looking at your phone.

“that's what you're watching? a fictional character?” he raised a brow at you. “you were saying all those stuff and he's not even real. have you gone crazy?”

“crazy for him.” you tap your screen, but you acted like you were booping the nose of the fictional character.

sae looked at you as if you said something so ridiculous.

“you're ridiculous.” well, sae did indeed looked at you like you said something ridiculous.

“oh please. look at him.”

you showed him your phone. sae leaned back his head a little and stared at your screen. you didn't know if sae was trying to hide it but he was so obvious with the disgusting expression he has right now.

“you're screaming for a guy with blindfolds on? where is his forehead anyway?” he said in a monotone voice.

oh sae was judging it hard. at least by the way he was looking at it.

“dude, let me show you him with no blindfolds on. he honestly looks like my future husband.” you showed him another video then looked at sae to see his reaction.

“i just know he's not interest with the likes of you..”

you gasped. “sae, that's so rude. i never taught you to be like that to my future husband.” you took back your phone and started searching for another video.

“hold up, let me show you another one.” you showed sae an edit video of another fictional character. “what do you think? he plays sport too. he's a very cool guy.” you grinned as you describe the character.

“he probably smells when he sweat.”

you gasped. again.

“don't act like you don't sweat when you play football!”

“i don't. most of the games were boring that i can't even sweat.” he smugly shrugged.

you narrows your eyes at him. “doesn't change the fact that you sweat too.”

“i don't smell when i sweat.”

he's right. sae doesn't even smell when he was sweating on hot days. it's kinda unfair.

“yeah right.” you showed him another video.

then slowly it turned into a challenge. you were constantly showing him different characters, different angles, and different personalities. and somehow sae would say something so disagreeable, you had to hold your self for not punching him in the face. some were funny remarks but you didn't want to show him anything that would satisfy him.

he would say something like:

“in real life, you wouldn't even like those spiky hair. how is a hair even spiky?”

“he looks like the most average person you'll ever see. how are you liking these people?”

“he's too loud. thought you said you don't like so much noise? well, aren't you fooling yourself now huh.”

“stop reading those awful scenarios. he's too sad for romantic and shit.”

you shut your phone off and glared at him. sae was still looking at you smugly and bored at the same time. he tilts his head when he notice your glare at him.

“then who do you think would be the best for me?” you questioned.

it's a stare off. the moment you stare at each other, it's a lose for the other if they look away first. and you weren't planning on losing again.

sae shrugs. “how would i know?”

“exactly, how would you know who's best for me?”

“i won't.” he continues to stare at you.

you raised both of your eyebrow and have your eyes slightly widened. you were starting to look funny but you didn't care.

“but...”

you blinked. but?

sae tilt his head slightly upward while staring at you still. “they'll go to me first. i'll be the judge if they are worth of you.” he rasped.

and you almost looked away. you almost lost but you didn't and only blinked at him faster.

“what...” your eyes narrowed at him. “the hell you talkin' about?”

few seconds passed before itoshi sae looks away. looks. away.

he stood up and walked away from you, leaving you and your eyes wide open, lips parted, and face red. you were left wondering at his words and then spends the next 30 minutes thinking if sae... probably... possibly likes you?

he's definitely screwed if you knew he did.

masterlist ♡

© all written works are created and owned by @yoonlyhan. do not plagiarise or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances. u will be blocked :x

credits to @strangergraphics for the wonderful divider ♡

[sixeyesonathiel]

very niche drabble from my drafts but honestly i would die without posting anything new in a day so i hope y'all will like this and see the vision LMAO, will have different parts <3 since lyra have pointed it out, just saying now that the reader is the cashier :D

isekai'd as game protag nerdjo x isekai'd as saintess npc reader, fluff.

the sunlight catches in your hair again.

satoru doesn’t mean to look. really. he doesn’t. but it’s kind of impossible not to when it glows like that—when every strand shimmers gold in the light of the descending sun like threads spun from divinity itself. it’s almost offensive, honestly. like the devs knew exactly what they were doing when they coded your idle animation to lean forward with a hum and tuck a loose wisp behind your ear just so.

he shifts his weight from one boot to the other, arms crossed, mouth tight, trying to look casual and not like he’s completely entranced by the way the snow melts before it even touches you.

he shouldn't be staring. he shouldn't want to.

because he already has a crush.

back home—real home—there’s a girl who works at the little corner store where he always buys his merch and energy drinks and plastic gacha keychains. she wears cute earrings. remembers his name. slips extra digimon stickers into his bag when she thinks he’s not looking.

he can’t seem to recall what she looked like, probably because of this whole isekai thing but he was sure about one thing. he was going to ask for her number, eventually. probably. maybe. someday.

but still he could not peel his gaze away.

you’re kneeling by a bed of bluebells—early bloom, thanks to your passive skill, blessing of spring. soft petals brush against your fingertips as you gently trace the outline of each flower, humming a song he’s pretty sure isn’t in the game’s ost. a small smile plays on your lips. the world around you feels alive in a way it never did when he played this on his old console—birds chirp too realistically, snowflakes glint too sharply, the wind carries your voice just enough to tease at the edge of his hearing.

and he’s just standing there. holy sword at his side. cape slightly crooked. heart lodged firmly in his throat.

“you’re staring again,” their rogue probably says behind him. maybe it’s their archer this time. he doesn’t hear. or rather—he refuses to.

because how the hell is he supposed to focus on defeating the demon king when you smile like that?

he’s the hero now. the chosen one. satoru gojo, level 99 celestial knight. maxed-out stats in everything that mattered: strength, speed, light magic resistance, charisma so broken it’s been nerfed twice since launch. and yet here he is—still taking psychic damage from the way your lashes flutter when you blink at him.

he’s been here for weeks ever since dozing off in a middle of some cutscene. isekai’d straight into his favorite game—celestial hearts: divine war of fate—which was absolutely not supposed to be a dating sim. it was about strategy and honor and battle mechanics. not about feelings or pretty saintess girls in glowing white cloaks and soothing voices who keep patting his head when he looks tired.

“sir gojo?” you say gently, glancing over your shoulder at him, smile soft and patient.

your eyes catch the light and sparkle—sparkle, literally sparkle. like someone turned the shader settings all the way up just for you. “you look flushed. are you feeling alright?”

“y–yeah,” he says, cracking audibly. god. why did his voice do that. he clears his throat. straightens up. resets his face to what he thinks is a neutral, knightly expression. “must be the sun. y’know. too hot.”

you blink. your lips part in polite confusion, and you glance up at the sky.

“but it’s snowing.”

“…right.”

his hands twitch at his sides, fingers flexing restlessly in his gloves. damn this game. damn the developers. damn their incredible, stupid attention to detail. your hands—bare, of course—hover over the flowers again, cupping one like a tiny offering. your sleeves fall past your wrists, white and gold embroidery catching the breeze. he knows your bio by heart: “saintess of the divine spring, miracle maiden of light,” the usual npc flavor text. maxed healing. high affinity scores. probably a tragic backstory somewhere in your questline.

but none of that mentioned how your laugh sounds like windchimes strung across heaven’s gate.

“sir gojo,” you say again, standing now, brushing imaginary dust and flower petals from your skirts. your movements are dainty, practiced, but your brows draw slightly inward with genuine concern. “you’ve been standing still for a while. are you sure you’re not overheating?”

his cape flutters awkwardly in the wind. his fingers go rigid. he can’t even blink.

girl. please.

he opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again, as if maybe this time something normal will come out.

“maybe i’m…” his voice trails off as he wills his brain to function. “overheating from your… divine radiance?”

the words leave him like a spell miscast.

a pregnant pause.

then—your eyes go wide. your lips twitch. and you laugh.

not a dainty giggle this time, but a laugh. soft and delighted and surprised all at once, curling from your throat like a melody no bard could replicate. you lift your sleeve to hide your smile, cheeks faintly pink—not blushing, no, the game probably just coded you to respond to compliments with a heat shader—

he’s going to die.

he’s actually going to drop dead right here in the middle of a flower field over a non-playable character.

somewhere deep in the forest, a bowstring snaps with unnecessary violence. someone—probably the mage—lets out a strangled, exhausted noise of pure despair.

satoru barely notices. he’s busy fighting for his life.

you’re still smiling at him. the wind rustles the bluebells. your hair glows like god’s personal sunbeam. the scene is perfect. it looks like a damn cg cut-in. he expects text to pop up any second with your name and some sappy line like “i’m glad you’re here, brave knight.”

but instead you just say, softly, with an amused little tilt of your head, “you’re strange, sir gojo.”

“i get that a lot,” he mumbles.

and somehow, impossibly, you smile brighter.

he has to beat the demon king. return to his world. back to traffic, vending machines, anime reruns, and microwaved curry. back to a life without hand-drawn skies and snow that melts against your skin and the way you say his name like it’s a blessing.

but you’re looking at him now like he’s the one glowing.

and satoru thinks—maybe. maybe just a little longer.

a few more days of fumbling compliments, of you laughing at his dumb jokes, of trying not to combust every time your hands brush his.

a few more days of your soft voice calling him “sir gojo” like you don’t even realize you’ve already enchanted him more deeply than any demon ever could.

[dreamdragonkadia]

would you consider writing a jealous xaden riorson? please andd thank youuu 🥹🥹

I thought about writing this into a spicy scene, but I am so out of practice that I didn't want to mess it up. x.riorson x reader

You hadn’t thought to bring it up. Not because you were hiding anything—but because it just... hadn’t mattered. It had been before becoming a rider. Before the Gauntlet. Before Threshing. Before Xaden Riorson had started looking at you like the world might crack in two if you didn’t make it through the next challenge.

You and Septon Izar had ended things cleanly, amicably, and left it at that. He’d been a friend before, and somehow, he still was—one of the few people who hadn’t flinched when you first started sitting with the marked ones. Honestly, his support during that time had meant more than you'd ever said aloud.

And honestly? Since Xaden? You hadn’t thought about Septon once. And maybe, maybe, you had mentioned it to Xaden. In passing. At most.

But judging by the sudden silence that swept through the dining hall—and the way Xaden’s head snapped toward you the second Septon opened his mouth—you definitely hadn’t mentioned that part.

"I think we only had sex twice," Septon said casually, sipping from his cup like he hadn’t just tossed a live drake into the center of the table. “And both times we were pretty drunk.”

You blinked.

What?

Your fork hovered above your plate as the table fell into a mixture of choked laughter and stunned silence. Garrick muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like oh shit. Nyra was already dragging her hands down her face. Bodhi looked delighted. Of course he did—this had his meddling written all over it.

You squinted up at Septon. “Man, that was so long ago, I barely remember.”

Xaden didn’t say anything.

Didn’t have to.

Not when you could feel the way his gaze landed on you—deadly calm, unreadable, and very, very still.

Someone coughed. Garrick kicked Bodhi under the table. Septon, gods bless his complete lack of self-preservation, raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like it meant anything,” he added, glancing between you and Xaden with a shrug. “We were just—”

"Don’t," Xaden said, voice low and even, but it carried like a cold front.

The entire table froze.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, forcing a smile as you turned your attention down the table, “Nyra, I don’t think I’ve ever heard about your physical escapades. Please, if we’re airing things out, do share.”

There was a pause.

Then Nyra leaned back with a knowing small grin. “Which year?”

And just like that, the conversation shifted. Nyra launched into a truly unhinged story involving a third-year from Rider’s Quadrant, two years ago and a storage closet full of training gear.

Everyone moved on.

Except you.

Because while the rest of the table erupted into laughter, Bodhi caught your eye and gave you a subtle salute—good luck with that—and Xaden’s shadows curled around your calves in a slow, possessive climb.

You had really thought that would be it. Completely and utterly it. There was nothing there.

You and Septon were barely a footnote, a hiccup in your timeline. But clearly, someone at the table had missed that memo—and that someone was now walking three paces behind you, silent, shadows brushing the edge of your steps like a warning.

You turned the corner just past the gym hall, fully intending to head toward the dorms, but a hand caught your arm—not rough, but firm—and suddenly, you were being pulled into a recessed archway you hadn’t even noticed.

Xaden didn’t speak at first.

Just looked at you.

That onyx stare that made it feel like he was peeling back your skin to see what was underneath. His jaw was tight, shadows curling restlessly around his boots.

“You’re mad,” you said flatly.

“I’m not mad,” he said. “I’m…” He exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to force the word back in. “You never told me.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” you shot back, arms folding. “It was nothing, Xaden. It was before.”

His brow twitched. “I watched him look at you like he still wanted something.”

“He was talking to Bodhi!”

“He was talking to you.”

You stared at him, pulse thrumming harder than it should’ve been. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

His shadows surged, crawling up your spine like a storm about to break.

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m possessive. There’s a difference.”

Your back hit the wall.

His hand came to rest beside your head, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. His voice dropped lower, into that gravel-smooth edge that made your knees a little unstable.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to your mouth, “and I don’t like being surprised.”

Your heart tripped over itself.

And because your pride had a death wish, you arched a brow and said, “Well, maybe I do.”

That was apparently the final straw.

He kissed you like it was a declaration, like he had to remind you—remind himself—that he knew every part of you better than anyone ever had. His hands found your hips, grip just shy of rough, and your fingers curled in his shirt like you needed something to hold onto before the ground gave way.

“Tell me again,” he said against your lips, voice thick with something that wasn't just anger, “how it meant nothing.”

Your breath caught—because you couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you. The only thing that mattered.

“It didn’t,” you whispered, barely audible. “It didn’t mean anything.”

He lingered there, just for a second, his forehead brushing yours as if he was searching for the truth in your skin. And then, with no more warning than a flick of his shadows, he pulled back just enough to say, “Come with me.”

You followed him without thinking.

Past cadets loitering in the halls, past flickering sconces and low murmurs, up flights of stairs that you barely registered because your heart was thundering in your chest. Xaden didn’t look back once—but his shadows stayed close, curling possessively around your wrist like a tether, a silent mine whispered over and over again in the dark.

By the time you reached his room, your pulse was high in your throat.

He opened the door, stepped inside—and then, just as you were about to follow, his hand shot out.

And pulled you in.

Hard.

You stumbled, but only for a heartbeat—because he was already there, catching you, pinning you back against the closed door with a thud that echoed in the silence.

“You think I care that it happened before me?” he murmured, his mouth brushing along your jaw, your neck. “I don’t.”

You shivered.

“I care that you didn’t tell me,” he continued, his hand sliding to your waist, hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. “I care that he thought he could say your name like that. Look at you like that.”

“Xaden—”

“I’m not going to be polite about it,” he interrupted, voice a low rasp. “I’m not going to pretend I’m okay hearing another man talk about what’s mine like it’s some casual memory.”

His lips found the corner of your mouth again, softer this time. A contrast to the words that came next.

“You’re not his story to tell.”

Your breath hitched.

“You want to tell me it meant nothing?” he asked, gaze catching yours with such intensity it felt like a command. “Then let me show the world who you belong with.”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him down.

And he did.

[lostinlads]

Fluffy Treatment

Synopsis: Leaving for a month to travel around the world had been a breath of fresh air, but returning to your family's home is where your heart resided. Your first day back had been hectic, a grand meal with all of your parent's wealthy friends would be held to honor your return. But as you are getting ready, your family's cat butler, Zayne, has come to your side to help you. The mutual missing and longing couldn't be denied as it flowed between the both of you. He would obey his master.

Tags: zayne x femme!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, smut, catboy!zayne, footjob, footplay, p in v, unprotected sex, master/servant play, secret relationship, aphrodisiac (catnip), no use of y/n

Words: 4.4k

an: Here is my fic of zayne's latest catboy card! this isnt completely accurate to the card just taking some inspiration from it, but i hope you enjoy either way!

ao3 | Yes, Cat Caretaker mini series | kofi

One month has come and gone - traveling the world, visiting friends, partying through the night. It honestly felt like a never-ending dream, but this morning when your driver pulled up to your family's estate, you couldn't help but feel relieved. 

One face has been plaguing your thoughts. Well, let's admit it, it's been more than just a face. 

Memories of his hands running over your naked flesh, his hot mouth on yours to silence your moans, soft ears and a bushy tail that drew goosebumps across your skin. You craved him. Dashing hazel eyes that looked at you like you were the finest meal he has ever seen, wanting to feast on you.

Those same eyes that stared at you now through the mirror in your bedroom as you tried on your dinner gown. Not hiding any shame as they sweep over every single blessed inch of your jaw dropping body. 

You stare back, eyes drawing over his wide shoulders, his broad chest, the thick arms that are pulled behind his back. 

The tension in the air between you both is almost electric, one spark could send the entire room ablaze. 

Your fingers twitch at your side, wanting to turn around and reach towards him. Pull him to you just so you can feel him under your fingertips again. Something so forbidden between the both of you yet so sweet and delicious, addictive. You had no intentions of sleeping with your family's cat butler, but the way he falls apart under your touch, breath hitching as he whimpers your name. How could you control yourself?

"How do I look?" You ask, not turning but meeting his eyes in the mirror. They flick up, pouring his heart out in them. The corners of his mouth lift, barely but just enough for you to notice.

"Breath taking as always, my lady." Heart racing in your chest, but you know he can hear it, his sensitive ears flicking to the beat like a drum. Smoothing your hands over your dress, you give yourself one final onceover, making sure every hair is put in place, your dress falling where it's supposed to and hugging what it needs to. 

Satisfied, you turn, letting your eyes run up Zayne's tall figure. He stands there unmoving as always, forced to remain stoic, to not give in. Maybe that's what drew you to him, wanting to break down his reserve and find the man deep within, or maybe it was that he is undeniably attractive. Sharp jaw matching his sharp eyes, large, sure hands, legs that go on for days. Something so magnetic drawing you to him.

"I got you something, you know." A smile playing on your painted lips, because who could honestly forget their favorite cat butler in a month without bringing him a gift in return. He cocks an eyebrow towards you.

"Oh?" Lips pulling up in that barely there smile again. "No need to come baring gifts, my lady. Just being graced by your presence once more is a gift in itself." The flush that coated your cheeks were more than enough, feelings showing without speaking words. You smile up at him, grabbing the small box from the bed and placing it in his hands. 

"It's an 'I missed you' present," Words so quiet, almost as if you were scared of getting caught. Zayne looks at you for a moment, pausing as he feels the weight in his hands, eyes searching yours. 

Slowly, Zayne pulls the lid off and sets it on your bed. You watch as his hazel eyes dilate, nostrils flaring at the scent of catnip. Taking the box from his hands, you hold the cat wand, the bell jingling softly as you move. His eyes darkening, zeroing in on it as you toss the box onto your bed. 

Though he is every bit man, he was still part feline, crumbling and growing hungry over the intoxicating scent of the drug. He doesn't indulge often in treats or toys, but something cracked in his composure every time catnip swirled in his senses. 

His ears twitch as you shake the wand, trying so hard to keep his eyes locked on yours but ultimately failing as you draw the wand up. A ragged breath releases from his lungs almost as if he was holding it. You move, reaching your arm higher towards his head and shake it again. His body shifts, zoned in on the movement and the scent of the toy. Playing like this had always been so pleasuring to you, watching as he fights off his instincts and tries to remain loyal to his orders. 

You move again, walking back, drawing him to you as you shake the toy in front of your own face. His eyes fighting to stay locked on yours but ultimately failing as he snaps them back. His large, glove clad hand reaches out, just barely missing the wand as you pull it away, higher in the air out of his reach. He straightens at once, looming over you with his massive height, brows pinched together tight in disbelief. You got him right where you wanted him, clouded his mind and drew him to you. Tossing the now useless toy to the side you straighten your back, sizing him up. 

Zayne walks towards you, eyes dark and jaw set. Footsteps so sure and precise. Times like these he looked almost intimidating, not being able to help it as you took a few steps back. 

Suddenly you trip, unstrapped heel slipping off of your stocking covered foot. You look down, the shoe laying helpless between the both of you. Sighing you walk to the wide armchair lining the wall, a few steps behind you. Crossing your legs and propping your head in your palm. Zayne walks to you, eyes softening and ears drooping to a more relaxed position.

"Do you know what this cat likes most?" He sighs out, voice hushed. 

"Catnip? Or a cat wand?" Though you knew where he was going, you wanted to play this game, this push and pull you both ended up in. His chuckle is breathy, ears twitching in delight as he looks away for just a moment. 

"Neither," Leaning forward hands caging you in, a smile playing on his lips. "He likes his owner more than anything else." Thick bushy tail swaying lazily behind him, face so close to yours you can feel the heat of his breath as it washes over your face. 

"You made my shoe come off," Eyes drawing down at the discarded shoe, ignoring his advances. 

Obeying, he kneels down, picking up your far too expensive heel, inspecting it as he holds it in his hands. You take the opportunity to reach forward, attempting to grasp his velvet like ears. But he is too fast, twitching them just out of reach, his eyes playful as he catches you in the act.

"Looks like someone hasn't forgotten about touching his ears," The low rumble of his words make your stomach flip. The slow swishes of his tail taunting you from behind him. "A cat won't fulfill all your requests." 

"Really?" You lean forward again, pinching the base of his ear softly before rubbing soothing circles in it. A sharp hiss through his teeth at the contact, making you drop your hand back down to your side. His comes up, caressing the spot, eyes soft and sad.

"It hurts..." Zayne's ears had always been sensitive, the slightest touch always drawing a quiet gasp from him. 

You look down, expectantly as you eye your shoeless foot.

"Help me put on this shoe," Lifting your leg, toes pointed towards his hand as you wait.

"All right." His large hand coming to clasp around the back of your ankle, lifting your foot up as he bends slightly. Lips placing a firm kiss through your stockings, goose bumps rising, drawing out a dull pulse between your legs. "At your service, my lady."

His fingers delicately dance up your arched sole, towards your heel before curling back around your ankle once more, catching your breath in your throat. Cheeks on fire as you watch him with such an intensity, sliding the toe of the shoe over yours, fixing the strap securely on your ankle with a smile playing on his lips. His long fingers dancing along your clothed skin. He looks up at you, a pink blush dusting over his cheeks as he lets out a chuckle. 

"Your hands..." Zayne looks down at them, letting your foot fall back to the floor. Brows drawing back together in the smallest movement. "They still smell like catnip." 

"They do?" You ask in a teasing tone, reaching your index finger forward. Running it along his bottom lip, his hand grasps yours, mouth falling open as he gasps out. Zayne pulls your hand closer, finger resting just between his lips. 

Then you feel his teeth, a small nip to your skin. Not enough to cause blood but just enough for you to let out a shocked gasp, stomach flipping in delight. You pull your hand back a few inches, making him look up at you. Hazel eyes consumed in nothing but lust from the aphrodisiac and the scent of you. Pink blush dusting over his nose. 

"Ow! You know, a good cat butler doesn't bite its owner," You scold with a scoff, eyes flicking to the side for just a moment. But then a rough, wet tongue laps at your skin. The hot stripe of saliva tingles on your skin as you stare at him, trying your hardest to not squeeze your slick thighs together, to not give in and let him know just how bad you need him inside of you.

"This is how I express my affection," Zayne says matter-of-factly, his barely there smile making a return as his tail shows his emotions behind him. 

You pull your hand from his grasp, lunging forward as you take his face in your hands. His ears quickly airplane in shock at your movements.

"Then let me express my affection," You command, shaking his head lightly to the side. "You like that?" 

A breathy moan slips from his lips as you caress his cheeks, his eyes slowly blinking in affection at you. The undeniable smile tugging at your lips as you watch him indulge, letting you warm his skin with yours finally. A deep rumbling purr emanating from his chest as he basks in your touch.

"Besides affection," Pausing, your hand still, cupping his cheek with one as the other ghosts down towards his chin. "I'm curious, do cats feel possessive towards their owners?" Voice dropping an octave, slow and sultry as you lean in and lift his chin, watching his eyes widen. 

Your cat butler smiles, wrapping his fingers around the wrist that cupped his face, clothed thumb brushing over your silky flesh. 

"Of course," Voice so sweet, a million emotions dancing behind it as he speaks. "Just like this..." He nuzzles into your awaiting hand before continuing, a heavy breath drawing in his lungs. "What this gesture means is - this is mine." Eyes meeting yours at the word 'mine'; possessive and claiming. His thick tail swishing behind faster. Zayne places a kiss to your open palm before he nuzzles back into it, the purr becoming so strong it vibrates in your hand. 

"Mmm," You hum, a smirk on your lips as you shake your head. "Kitty, I think you're confused, you're all mine." Words forming a purr as you lean in, faces so close you could smell his scent. Another slow, loving blink of his eyes, his tail coming around to brush up your calf.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this," The raw emotion in his eyes almost makes you pull back, his smile falling. 

You wished you could tell him you loved him, throw all the back and forth aside, throw aside how forbidden it would be to expose your relationship with your family's butler. But him melting into your touch, telling you how he missed your skin on his with those fucking bone melting eyes. Just pour your heart to him, leave everything behind for him.

But that wasn't possible. So, you stone your emotions, forcing a smirk on your lips.

"Why don't you show me?" Thumb brushing just under his eyes as you push him, trying to get him to indulge, take as much as he wants from you.

Zayne's fingers curl around your ankle, pulling your foot forward towards him as he lets out a hot pant of breath. As he grinds against you, his hard erection presses onto your shin. You feel him shutter from the contact, his eyes rolling closed as he presses his face more into your palm, open lips on your skin, feeling every exhale.

Slipping your foot out of your unbuckled shoe, you pull back, hand falling from his face as your back presses against the chair. His eyes flutter open, the slightest pout at the loss of contact from both your hand and shin. But he remains still, refusing to reach out and pull you back to him, diving in for friction. Through his black slacks, you can make out the tent growing at his groin. 

"Already so worked up..." You tsk, shaking your head from side to side, clicking your tongue. "What will we do about that, hm?" Cocking your head to the side, you cross your legs, shoeless foot over the other, tapping it up and down teasing him.

"Please... my lady," He reaches up, fingers drifting up, dusting over your heel, down your arch and latching around your clothed toes. His empty hand clenches at his side, refusing to touch himself as he begs you for any sort of relief. 

With a sigh you uncross your legs, bringing your foot to his chest with his fingers still attached. The shaky, uneven breath could be felt through his suit as you run your foot down his chest and stomach towards the place he needed you the most. Ears sloping as they relax under the building pleasure inside of him.

Finally, you press your foot to his groin, feeling his lengthy erection under your hot skin. He sighs, shifting his hips just slightly enough to get the smallest friction. The smile that spread on your lips couldn't be helped, the mingling emotions of his pleasure and the excited anticipation bubbling inside of you. The month had been too long, the nights too expansive, and Zayne too far away. But here he is, already falling apart, breaking down his walls for you just over a touch. Drool worthy cock so hard, so ready for you. You shift your foot, dragging it down to his base, watching the shudder run under his shoulders. The length mapping itself out under your toes, but far too many layers separated it for your liking. 

"Strip," You command, voice nothing higher than a breath. In an instant, he shrugs his coat off, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt before that too has been discarded. He rises to his knees, thumbing the button of his slacks open, unzipping, then pulling them down along with his boxers. But you stop him there, raising your heeled foot up, right in front of his erect cock. "Fuck it," Eyes locked on his, your chest rising and falling as you wait for him to obey. 

The slick between your thighs growing as you drink him in, deep pink tip inches away from your foot, in need of release. Veins wrapping around his massive length, your mind already drifting to how they feel, every single inch of him a delicious pleasure that you needed inside of you.

Zayne shifts to the side, hands holding your heel still as he slips the tip of his cock between your clothed foot and your shoe. The groan that graces your ears has you gripping your hands at your side is enough to get your mind reeling, trying to control your urges of pushing him down and fucking yourself on him, losing all sense of control and just give in. 

"Feels so good," He groans out through is teeth as he sinks himself to the hilt, pausing there as he catches his breath. His member hot against your arched sole, blood pumping through his veins. 

After a moment, his hips shift, pulling back before thrusting forward, fucking your foot. The friction of his cock through your stockings sent tingles up your spine, shifting in your seat as the uncomfortable thrumming of arousal pooled between your thighs. Watching himself fuck his cock in your shoe, the way his mouth hung open as his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath. You never wanted it to end, not being able to get enough after being deprived for so long. 

Zayne's fingers tighten as you flex your toes, tightening your arch, making the small opening even smaller. He groans out, brows pinching as his pace picks up, cock head disappearing and reappearing as he continues. After you're done, you'd have to toss your stockings away, the wetness growing on them from his leaking cock head soiling them, unable to wear them. But the thought of walking into the dining hall, stockings stained with his precum, a claim of him, made your stomach flip. You flex your toes again, drawing a hungry moan from him as you watch the beads of sweat form at his brows. Eyes trailing down his bare chest, down his flexing stomach, and landing on his freshly shaved groin. You wanted to reach out, run your nails down his skin and watch his muscles seize as he fights back his orgasm.

"Fuck," He swears under his breath, hips moving faster, bumping into the side of your foot, stockings already soaked as his cock easily slides between. You could see how painfully erect he was, feel it. Tip flushed with the rush of blood, aching to release, cock twitching after every few thrusts. 

"You like fucking my feet?" Cooing, his eyes snap to yours, a smile playing on your lips. Your fingers brushing the hair from his damp forehead.

"Love it," Your butler breathes out, hips never stilling, but growing sloppy, the rhythm stalling every once in a while. "Love it, my lady." He repeats with a grunt, hips jerking with a harsh thrust. 

You could tell how close he was, the jerky movements, the rising and falling of his chest in jagged breaths, his hazel eyes cloudy and glossy in a haze. If you didn't stop him, he'd cum all over your foot, leaving nothing left for you. Just that thought alone was more than enough for you to stop him, gripping his strong, muscular arm to still his movements. His ears shifted to the side, confusion and frustration, eyes slowly dragging to your reddened face. 

"Go lay on the bed," Voice sounding distant, you command him. With a swish of his tail he obliges, slowly pulling his aching cock from your shoe and pushing himself up to stand. Shucking the rest of his clothes off, he walks towards your bed - your eyes never leaving his naked frame, raking in every inch. From his tight, toned ass, his fluffy tail that swayed with every footstep, to his muscular back and his wide shoulders. Every single aspect of this man made your core ache for him, like he was made just to pleasure you. 

Not wasting time, you rise to your feet, discarding your lone shoe and pad over to him. Zayne sat on the edge of your massive bed, large thigs spread, red, angry cock resting against his stomach as he allowed himself to be used. You slot yourself between his thighs, hands resting on his shoulders as you feel the heat of his body radiate around you. His hands cup the back of your knees, you can feel how clammy they were through the thin, skintight fabric. Hands pushing you to him, lifting your legs to climb onto his bare lap, hovering just over his wet cock. His face leaning in, lips hovering over yours, teasing.

"Let me please you, mistress," Breath washing over you, filling your lungs as you inhale him. Before you know it, his hands reach up, fingers curling around your tights. The rip of them sounded so overwhelmingly loud in your silent room, almost echoing off the walls. The moan that slipped from your lips wasn't intentional, eyes rolling back as your muscles almost giving out from just the action alone. You could hear his chuckle through the cloud of arousal in your mind, almost taunting at how quickly you fall while he's in control.

That wakes you up, snapping out of the fog. You push him back onto the mattress, a woosh of breath leaving his lungs as he falls, eyes widening and ears standing to attention. Not wasting any time, you reach between your bodies and push your panties to the side, guiding his cock inside of your soaked cunt. He fills you slowly, pushing through your walls, knocking your head back as you try to control yourself from being too loud. Your family was here after all, floating around the house, getting last minute preparations finished for your welcome home party. But somehow that only turned you on even more, fucking your cat butler while you should be getting dressed, ruining your clothes just so he could cum inside of you again.

Zayne's hands grip your hips, desperate for more. Once you take him completely, he hisses through his teeth, thick thighs tensing beneath your body, willing himself not to release yet. You wouldn't last long either, one entire month without his cock inside of you made your stamina nonexistent, just him alone inside of you now, you could feel the familiar tight coil binding on itself in your core. As you both catch your breath, your small hand runs up his chest, so smooth under your touch, freshly shaved how you told him you liked it. You fought back a smile, not giving into your emotions, not yet. Instead, you keep going higher, hand resting at the base of his throat, feeling the groan he lets out as you tighten your fingers slightly, feeling the jump of his cock at the movement. A rumbling purr in his chest, vibrations so strong you can feel them jitter up your arm.

He couldn't hold back any longer, tightening his hands around your hips, bucking his hard cock deep inside of you. Throwing your head back you cry out, eyes wide as you can feel him brush against that mind numbing spot inside of you, his head kissing it with every movement. He thrusts again, a low growl as he grinds his teeth together, your body jumping with his hips. He is relentless, pounding himself in your pussy at a desperate attempt to chase both of your highs, them building together in an almost perfect sync. Drawing the most beautiful noises from your lips, sending his predator instincts into a frenzy, feeding on them as he fights for more. 

"Oh!" You cry, falling to his chest, burying your face into his damp neck, his cock hitting impossibly deeper into your quivering cunt. You could taste it, your orgasm looming over you as you try to meet his now sloppy thrusts.

"'M close-" He hisses out, hands repositioning onto your ass, fingers sinking into the fatty flesh. He pushes you down, meeting his thrusts as the lewd wet slapping of your bodies bounce around the room. Anyone standing in the hall would be able to hear, but you couldn't give less of a care right now, the way he fucks himself inside of you dumbing your brain and making you drool. His tail brushing against your foot as it swipes up your leg, curling around you in need to touch you. Your hand grips his chest, nails sinking in as your mouth falls open into an O, orgasm on the tip of your tongue.

"Zayne-" You try to choke out, a whimper cutting your words of as your eyes roll back. "Coming!" Is all you manage before the hot heat runs over your body, curling your toes and burying your face into his neck as you cry out. The gush of wetness between the both of you only intensifying the noises your bodies made as his last few thrusts fuck himself inside of you. Then you feel the first hot rope, a deep groan ripping from his throat as his cock leaks into you. You feel how it pulsates, the throbbing only making the last lick of your orgasm even more intense, legs shaking just from his feeling alone. Zayne's strong arms wrap around you, holding you both still as he empties completely inside of you. 

The both of you lay like that, breath heavy as you can feel his load seeping out of your abused hole, cock softening inside. His arms stay locked around you, not wanting to let you go just yet, or maybe ever again now that he finally has you back. But right now, you don't mind, listening to his rapid beating heart, feeling his damp skin on yours, the scent of him surrounding you. 

"I love you," Your ears almost don't catch those three little words. Said so lightly it could've been a blowing breeze through the room. But his unmistakable voice is what blessed your ears. Body growing hot, his confession slipping out. You don't move, shock settling in your bones. "I know it's inappropriate, I understand if you want me to leave, my lady. But I couldn't-" You cut him off, pushing yourself from his chest, both of your arms holding you up, caging him in. 

The smile on your lips seemed to relax him, eyes softening, ears relaxing - even his tail lightly thumped against the bed. 

"I love you," You whisper, watching the flush bloom on his face, lips falling open in a gasp. You were finally able to admit it, after months of sneaking around and shoving your emotions deep down your throat, they felt so easy as they flowed from your mouth. 

His sudden movement shocked you, a shriek squealing from your lips as he lifts you and flips you onto your back. He hovers over you with a lazy smile, one only ever reserved for these secret moments with you. Without stopping himself, he leans in and kisses you, lips molding together like puzzle pieces, your heart pounding in your chest but your skin growing warm. 

Cupping his face, you give in. Allowing yourself to bask in his love while he was here with you. Never wanting it to end.

[keraawrites]

Still us?

Summary: It was platonic; it had to be. You guys were the best co-parents there were, but that didn't mean you didn't still love him, that didn't mean you still got wet thinking about him every night. ۶ৎ Bakugo x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Contex: Co-parents, dirty talk, use of the word daddy, mama, ma, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, soft but rough sex, kitchen sex

word count — 3.2k

Your house was buzzing with the kind of chaotic joy only a three-year-old’s birthday party could bring. Colourful streamers dangled from the ceiling, a banner with “BOOM! Happy Birthday, Baby Blast!” stretched across the wall, and the scent of pizza, frosting, and too many lit birthday candles filled the air. Laughter bounced off the walls, kids darted around like little gremlins hopped up on sugar, and the grown-ups—some friends, some family—did their best to keep up.

Your son—your wild, beautiful little firecracker—was at the heart of it all. In his blue birthday shirt with a cartoon explosion on the front and a bright red cape flowing behind him, he looked like a tiny hero-in-training. Curls bouncing with every step, cheeks smeared with chocolate, his energy was contagious. He zipped between groups of kids like he had somewhere to be, pausing only to grab another juice box or show off the “power pose” Uncle Deku taught him, which was, in his words, “soooo cool it made the table shake.”

He didn’t want to be too far from either of you—every five minutes, he was running up to tug on your shorts or Kaysuki’s pant leg, needing a hug, or to show off his newest toy, or to just rest his head for a second before launching back into the madness. At one point, when you knelt to fix the strap on his sneaker, he hugged your neck and whispered, “Best party ever, Mama.”

Yeah. That made everything—your aching feet, your cluttered kitchen, the cake stain on your carpet—so damn worth it.

Bakugo stood off to the side, arms crossed, trying to play it cool like he wasn’t lowkey melting. But you caught him. Eyes soft, mouth twitching like he wanted to grin but didn’t want anybody to see. He looked so damn good—black tee snug around his arms, loose joggers hanging low on his hips, a little frosting smudged on his jaw like even the cupcakes wanted a taste. You weren't the only one who noticed, either.

But it was more than that. He wasn’t just your baby daddy. He was him. Top pro hero. Good ass dad. And whether you liked to admit it or not—still fine as hell.

You’d wanted to make the day perfect. It was your son’s third birthday, and he had demands. As much as he loved his dad, his obsession with both Deku and Dynamight meant this party was green and orange chaos. Much to Katsuki’s dismay, he still made it happen. Because he always showed up for his son. No matter what.

And that’s the thing about him—he’s good at everything. Always has been. Including being annoyingly, disgustingly good in bed. Which, honestly, was a blessing and a curse.

You two broke up two years ago. It was hard, but it was necessary. He was rising through the hero ranks, your job was demanding, and you had a one-year-old who needed everything. You didn’t want to grow resentful. Didn’t want to hate each other. So you ended it with love. Quiet, aching love. The kind that never really goes away.

Most people didn’t get it. But it worked for you.

When it was time for the cake, everyone gathered around the kitchen island. You lit the candles while Bakugo held your son up on the counter like he was the most important person in the world (which, to you both, he was). He grinned so wide you thought his little face might split, eyes glued to the flames, bouncing in Katsuki’s arms.

“Okay, ready?” you called out, raising your phone to record.

And the crowd erupted into song.

“Happy birthday to you…”

Your son was absolutely eating it up. Giggling, wiggling, soaking in the love like sunshine. He clapped along with the beat, even sang his own name extra loud at the end. When they finished, he shouted, “Blow ‘em out with me, Daddy!” and Bakugo leaned in so they could do it together.

One puff, two sets of cheeks, and the candles went out in a small puff of smoke and cheers.

“Best. Day. Ever!” your son yelled, pumping his fist in the air like a tiny pro hero.

Bakugo smirked, still holding him close, whispering something in his ear that made your baby snort so hard he hiccupped. The sight of them together like that—your son beaming, Katsuki so soft around him—it made your chest ache in a way you didn’t have words for. A good ache. A deep one.

Eventually, the sugar crash hit hard. After goodie bags were passed out and the last guest was escorted out with a slice of cake and a juice box, the house quieted. Your son was curled up on the couch, cape wrapped around him like a blanket, his little fingers still clutching the Dynamight action figure his dad gave him. Out cold, tiny snores escaping his frosting-sticky mouth.

Golden hour slipped through your windows like honey, the kitchen glowing with syrupy light. You’d snuck upstairs to change—into one of Katsuki’s old Dynamight tees and a pair of shorts you didn’t realise were that short until you saw yourself in the mirror. Bonnet on, lip gloss faded, and cheeks still glittery from the “makeover” your niece insisted on giving you, you padded barefoot back downstairs and started tidying, humming to yourself a little.

"You always hum when you’re about to cry or cuss somebody out," his voice rumbled low from behind you, that familiar smirk threading through it like a dare.

You snorted, not turning around just yet. "Or when I’m tryna not cuss somebody out."

"You always hummed around me."

"Yeah because I always wanted to cuss you out."

His chuckle was soft, almost quiet—completely not Bakugo nature, but it was nice. You hated how much you still loved that sound.

"You did good, Ma," he said, voice closer now.

And that. That little “Ma” he always hit you with when he was being sentimental, or trying to get under your skin, or both? Yeah, that wasn’t fair. At all.

You finally turned to face him, leaning your hip against the counter. “You helped,” you said casually, keeping it cool. “Birthday boy would’ve lost it if both his favourites weren’t here.”

You could feel the way his gaze was on you, your hands shaking slightly from the little alcohol you had managed to sneak into your punch but also because you could feel the intensity of his stare.

You turned back around, busying yourself once again in order to ignore what was going on between your legs. "He needs to go to bed before he morphs into that sofa."

"Already done it, brat was mumbling about his favourite uncle in his sleep." You giggled at the gruffness in his voice, you didn't even need to face him to know his face was set in his permanent scowl but there was no malice behind his words.

You smiled to yourself, back still half-turned as you rinsed a cup out in the sink. “Mhm. You jealous?”

He scoffed. “Hell yeah, I’m jealous,” he grumbled, stepping up behind you, crowding your space. “Ain’t no way that nerd gets more love than me in this house.”

You turned your head, arching a brow. “You’re literally his dad. You already got the top spot.”

“Tch. Still don’t like sharin’,” he muttered.

And there it was—that little sliver of possessiveness that always made your spine straighten and your thighs press together. The way he said it, all low and annoyed like your son idolising Deku was a personal betrayal. You had to bite your cheek to stop the smile that threatened to stretch across your lips.

You looked up at him fully now. His eyes were darker than before, settled on you with that old familiar heat. The one that used to make your knees weak and your back arch. 

“Didn’t realise you still wore my shirts,” he said, eyes running over you, voice dropping, thick with something that made your stomach flip.

You gave a shrug, casual but cocky. “Comfy.”

His tongue swiped over his bottom lip. “Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

“Katsuki—”

“Been thinkin’ about you,” he cut in. Just said it, all reckless and raw, like he hadn’t just been in your house around your family all day. Like y’all hadn’t been broken up for two years.

You blinked. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” he said, stepping in close. One hand braced on the counter behind you, caging you in. “You don’t still think about me?”

You turned your head, as much as you could, trying to ignore the way he smelled. That damn cologne he always wore, the same one he wore the first time you guys got together all the way back in UA.

You felt his finger ghost over your hand, pulling you back into reality. “You gon’ tell me you didn’t do this shit on purpose?” he asked, eyes flicking down to the hem of your shorts, the edge of your bonnet slipping just a little.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, the weight of his words settling heavy in your stomach.

“I didn’t do it for you,” you don’t even know if it was a lie, but your voice was too soft and too shaky to be believable.

“Yeah?” he smirked, eyes narrowing. “Then why you shakin’?”

You turned back to the dishes again, heart thumping like it wanted out. But you already knew—resistance was temporary. You’d been down this road before. And Katsuki always knew how to get you to walk it again.

He was your first everything. Your only real everything. From high school halls to a hospital room where you both cried meeting your son, to this house filled with all the in-betweens. You could play coy all you wanted. But your body remembered.

Your breathing shook when you felt your back hit his chest. His hands didn’t touch you—yet—but his presence was wrapped around you like smoke, thick and inescapable. You could feel the heat rolling off of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you, the way he exhaled like he was holding back something heavy.

Your nails scraped against the sink as you held it like it was anchoring you down to Earth as you felt the way his fingers skimmed over your arms.

Katsuki,” you said carefully, voice a whisper. “We’re not…”

“Not together. Yeah. I know.” His eyes flicked over you, he turned you to face him, fingers still skimming over your skin. “Doesn’t change how I feel.”

You felt your heart stutter. You’d had so many nights alone where you wondered if he still felt it too. If all the love you tucked away, folded up neatly under co-parenting and polite distance, was still sitting under his skin the same way.

“I miss you,” he said, voice thick. “I miss coming home to this. Miss seeing you like this. Soft. Tired. Still takin’ care of everything even when it’s just you.”

Your eyes burned.

“I never wanted to stop being a family,” he said, stepping closer until his chest brushed yours. “Even when I fucked up. Even when I didn’t know how to fix it.”

You swallowed hard. “You can’t just say stuff like that, ‘Suki.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll believe you.”

His hand slid around your waist, pulling you in slow, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Then believe me.”

Your body moved before your brain could catch up. His lips were already on yours, hands gripping your waist like he was holding on for dear life—and you melted. Melted like butter in the pan, like it hadn’t been two whole years since the last time he kissed you like that.

Like not a single thing had changed.

“Suki…”

“Shh, mama. I got you. Just… please. Let us have this.”

His voice was barely a whisper, but it hit like a wrecking ball. Knocked straight into the walls you’d built—every brick, every stubborn layer of distance and pride crumbling under the weight of his voice and the way he held you like home.

God, you missed him.

Your lips moved against his like muscle memory, fingers tangling in the soft hair at the back of his neck. He backed you into the counter with ease, the same place y’all had just passed out cake slices and goodie bags now transformed into the center of the damn universe.

His hands slipped under the hem of the shirt you were wearing—his shirt—and dragged up your skin slow, like he needed to re-learn every inch of you.

“You really gon’ stand there and lie to me?” he murmured against your jaw, mouth trailing kisses down your neck. “Like I don’t know this body better than my own?”

You shivered, breath hitching. “We shouldn’t…”

“But you want to.” He pressed his hips against yours, letting you feel exactly how much he did too.

Your answer came out as a soft, needy whimper.

“You wearin’ panties under this?” he asked, voice low, teasing as he nosed along your throat. “Or you just lettin’ it drip down your thighs like the good girl I know you are?”

Your knees damn near gave out.

“I—fuck, Katsuki.”

He laughed, breath hot on your skin, and in one smooth motion, lifted you up onto the counter. Your legs fell open easy as breathing, and he slotted himself between them, hands already tugging your shorts down like his body remembered the choreography.

“Still this fuckin’ wet for me,” he muttered, fingers gliding through your folds. His groan was deep, guttural. “Shit, mama.”

You bit your lip, one hand tangling in his hair as the other braced on the counter behind you.

The blonde dropped to his knees without hesitation. He grabbed the back of your thighs, dragging you closer until your ass was hanging off the edge. You remembered how he used to sweet talk you before eating your pussy but not today.

A choked moan left you as his tongue licked a broad stripe up your centre, moaning into it like the taste alone had him losing his mind. “Missed this fucking pussy mama, missed you” he growled, burying his face between your legs like he needed you to breathe.

Your head fell back, the moan that ripped from your throat embarrassingly loud in the quiet kitchen.

His fingers dug into your thighs, keeping you wide open as he licked and sucked, tongue curling just right over your clit before sliding back down to your entrance. He didn't forget what you liked, after years of knowing your body the man still knew how to suck on you clit with enough pressure to have your eyes rolling.

“You’re--fuck such a mess, baby,” you gasped, voice shaking. “Katsuki--oh my God—”

“Say my name again,” he growled against your cunt. “Let me hear it.”

“Katsuki!”

He latched onto your clit at that, sucking hard and fast until your legs trembled around his shoulders, your body rocking against the countertop like you were trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure—but he wasn’t having that.

“Don’t run,” he grunted. “Take it. You know how I eat. That pretty pussy still remembers, huh?”

Your orgasm slammed into you without warning, your hips jerking, mouth falling open in a silent cry as the waves of it crashed through you.

And Katsuki didn’t stop.

Not until your thighs were twitching, not until your hands fisted in his hair and you were whimpering his name like a prayer. Only then did he pull back, licking his lips like he had just finished your famous Sunday dinners.

"Fuckin' missed you so much ma, please, please tell me you've missed me too?" He practically whined as he pulled down his joggers just enough to free himself.

You couldn’t stop staring. He was hard, thick, already leaking, and somehow even bigger than you remembered.

Or maybe it just felt that way because it had been too long.

His hand gripped your chin, your eyes meeting each other as you tucked your lip between your teeth.

"Come on baby..." He ran his length between your folds, tapping the tip against your clit a couple of times causing you to whine.

"Missed you so much 'Suki please."

He slid in, slow but deep—too deep. You choked on a gasp as he filled you to the brim, head dropping to his shoulder.

“Fuck—so tight,” he groaned, gripping your hips. “You really ain’t let nobody touch this since me, huh?”

You shook your head, panting. “Only you.”

And damn if that didn’t break something in him.

He pulled out slow, almost all the way, then slammed back in, hard enough to jolt the dishes on the counter. Your body arched into his, hands scrabbling for something to hold on to as he started to fuck you in earnest.

He was trying to make up for lost time, every deep stroke had him whispering praises in your ear.

You're whining and moaning like an absolute slut and it makes his dick throb and his balls tighten, pussy clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, I miss hearing those sounds." His hands pull your thighs further apart, thumb strumming at your clit while he fucked you into a trance. Your eyes had taken up residence in the back of your head as the sheer force of every thrust had your bonnet slipping halfway done your head, little by little your braids started falling into your face making you look like a fucking Goddess.

He could feel you tightening around him, letting go of your thighs his hand clamped around your throat as he pulled you into a searing kiss tongues and teeth lashing together as your legs wrapped around him, pulling him in like you were trying to become one.

He continued to pound you into oblivion, fucking you like it might be the last time, but you hoped to God that it wasn't.

Mine,” he growled against your lips, slamming into you again and again. “You're mine, this family is mine, say it."

“Yours,” you gasped, nails digging into his back. “Always been yours, daddy—fuck!”

He feels the way you go rigid in his arms, the first syllable of his name stuck in your throat and he knew your cumming for him again.

He felt it—the way you locked up around him, the way your cunt milked him like it never wanted to let go. You came again, loud and messy, coating his cock in a creamy white slick, and he followed you soon after, hips jerking, breath catching as he emptied inside you with a deep, guttural groan.

The kitchen was silent except for your breathing. Heavy, shaky. The kind that came with everything—sex, love, grief.

He didn’t pull out right away.

Just held you.

You curled into him instinctively, lips pressed to his neck, and you stayed like that for a moment. Wrapped up in each other. The ache was still there. But it didn’t hurt as much now.

“You think he heard us?” Katsuki muttered after a beat.

You snorted, voice muffled by his shirt. “He sleeps like a rock.”

Katsuki leaned back, brushing your cheek with his thumb. "I meant what I said, can we talk, properly?"

You nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

[splishfish]

Thinking about…

~~~

Anyone who knew Nerd!Gojo knew that he was utterly in love with you.

It was pathetic, really.

Nerd!Gojo couldn’t live without you. He was constantly on your tail, whether it was to -beg- to do your homework for you, or to eagerly hand you his notes and homework to claim as your own, he was there. Nerd!Gojo didn’t care if you were using him, as long as you kept him by your side, he would do anything for you!

He’d even let you peg him! Wait, what? 

“NhhgaaAah! W-WaIT-!” The girly moan that escaped his lips echoed between the four walls of your bedroom, followed soon after by the sickeningly wet slurp of your tongue as you lapped at his untouched hole.

Well. Once untouched.

A simple swat! to his reddened ass made him flinch forwards and away from your prying muscle, but it only encouraged more of your mean slaps :(

How did he get here? Did you plan this? Did you know you’d have him wriggling in your bed, his cock red and sticky with cum from the moment you pulled his pants down?

Honestly, despite the whirring thoughts in his mind, he just couldn't bring himself to care. Not when your tongue was pushing past the pink rim of his asshole and into his gummy caverns. 

A sharp gasp escaped his lips, eyes rolling back as drool spilled from his parted lips. This..this was wrong! He wasn’t supposed to be the one ruined and rutting his hips into your mouth! It- It should have been the other way around! You were supposed to be the one begging for his tongue! You were supposed to be on your hands and knees, pretty pussy sloppy and leaking just for him, not-! Not whatever this is! Oh, but he just can’t pull away. I mean, you were the one who wanted this right?! Not him! He- He doesn’t want your tongue to fuck him into another orgasm, of course not! And he definitely doesn't want you to finger fuck him while you suck his dick! No! How could he ever dream of such a thing?!

So when you pull away from his now winking asshole and pressed the fat of your thumb against his tight muscle, he obviously tried to move away! Yes! So when he bucked his hips into your thumb, shoving the fat digit into his ass, it was obviously an accident! He was trying to get away! Not shove your pretty finger deeper into his hole!

Oh, but when it slipped inside, all the fight he had completely disappeared :( The way your thumb gently fucked and spread his tight hole wider made his mind melt, and he finally gave into -his- your desires.

And as you replaced your thumb with your middle and index finger, could you really blame him for fucking into your fingers? No, and not even when he started moaning like a bitch in heat, begging for the cock you didn’t have, you could hardly blame him for giving into -his- your desires. It was only in his nature to give in to you :(

Because he loved you. He loved you so damn much, that when you pressed the tip of your dildo against his barely stretched out hole, he held back his whimpers of pain. He didn’t want you to worry, and somewhere deep inside him, he didn’t want you to stop.

And how could he not love you? When you so sweetly massaged his ass as you let him get used to the size of the dildo, kissing his spine and whispering sweet praises against his skin and-…ah…he came again.

But even as his cock twitched and spilled gallons worth of his thick cum, he could still feel the way you began to push the dildo even further into his hole, using his orgasm as a distraction. And when he finally felt the silicone balls of the dildo press against his perineum, oh, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning forwards and ramming the dildo inside him.

He felt like a whore. Every moan and whine of pleasure that escaped his lips was accompanied by a mewl for more, followed by the harsh slamming of the silicone toy hitting his prostate.

He was dreaming. He had to be. Because as he reached what seemed to be his 100th orgasm of the night, he was blessed with the soft feeling of your lips pressing against his slobbering ones, and a soft praise he’ll never forget.

“There we go…my sweet nerd…”

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.1k w.count- boothill needs a lil tune up [...y'all should've seen this one comin' honestly]

you're not sure why you bother setting an alarm every time you go to sleep. you don't even know when you'll be sleeping for one; it could be in the afternoon, it could be in the morning, it could be for ten minutes at your workbench, and on the rare occasion, you can even go to bed at night like everyone else. although, that last option when blessed upon you, never lasted the whole night.

as for the original dilemma of alarm clocks? who needs 'em! the critters getting into your shop and wrecking your tools around were a surefire way to get your blood pumping with a wild chase around the shop with a hefty, swinging wrench. kids stopping by to see the newest hunk-of-junk thing you've been tinkering with or maybe even bringing you some toy to fix with whimpering chins are always sure to keep you awake- you couldn't send them away with smashed hopes. perhaps it was a good natured older lady or gentlemen just stretching their legs one fine morning after you had pulled an all nighter, but now you have to entertain their gossip well into the morning past the ass-crack of dawn because you can't be a bad host!

this instance, however, just so happens to be the familiar sound of heavy, metal boots clanking their way through the shop's public entrance. the sound of the stomping reverberates around your small little rest room at the back of your shop through the camera feed you keep running at all hours (mostly for those critters previously mentioned). having just fallen asleep on top of being hyperaware of sounds from the feed, your eyes fly open. with a well-overdramatic, one-person show worthy groan evolved to frustrated yell, you were throwing your shabby blanket off your legs.

"wakey, wakey!" the synthetic voice of an overly familiar man projects into your room.

you stomp across the room in two short strides. slamming your palm down on a button attached to a small table with all sorts of other switches and knobs, the small indicator that audio is feeding from your microphone kicks on as red as your temper.

"the hell do you want?" you growl, voice muffled at the end of your exhausted question by your free hand running down your face. you hear his voice chuckle on the other end. peering through your fingers into the video screen, he had moved to stand away from your shop door. his arms are crossed across his metallic chest, chin tilted up so his one eye can gaze into the camera that follows his movements.

"now, now, sugar," he chuckles, "just open the door, would ya'? i could use some fixin' up." as if trying to coax you into letting him in, he waves one of his arms around by the elbow.

you're not sure if he heard you click your tongue before you lifted your hand off the audio feed button, but he chuckles nonetheless as the soft click of disconnection echoes on his end. he knew you'd come racing to the door... well, at the very least you wouldn't leave him out to dry.

the cowboy dips his chin and chuckles under his breath as the brim of his hat shadows his face. he could hear you stomping your way towards him and just imagining your irritated face with a possibly twitching brow was highly amusing to him.

the door in front of his toes swings open inwards and the rush of air as it did so flutters his long bangs that always covered the right side of his face. his chin rises a fraction, and he was right. your face was assuming.

standing in a wrinkled shirt that you no doubt had been trying to sleep in, arms crossed and a crease so deep in your brows he was tempted to push his thumb between them.

"well," he starts, swaying his hunk of metal bodyweight to one of his equally metal legs, "ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

"what. do you want." you hiss. before he gives you a verbal answer, his arm swings down and swipes something from his pocket before presenting it in front of your face. your eyes nearly go crossed to examine it. then you're looking back up at him, not any more amused than before. "is this supposed to be a bribe?"

the cowboy shrugs playfully, twisting the covered candied sucker between his fingers.

"do ya' want it to be?"

you roll your eyes, bringing your arm up to snatch the small boost of sugar from him. "just get in here, boothill." you sigh, free hand coming to rub your forehead. turning your body to retreat back into your home, the clanking of him following behind echoes at your back.

boothill whistles at the state of the familiar shop he'll find himself in from time to time for quick fix-ups. a workbench loaded with heaps of scrap metal, tools, random bobbles, and screws all littered on top of pages and printed blueprints of projects or repairs. it's even more of a chaotic mess than last time. he sits on the stool he normally snags as his when he's here and, without speaking, you're hooking up a small machine attached to the wall next to the bench and offering him the end of a circular cord.

"need a charge?" you ask with a small lisp from the candy you had already unwrapped and placed in your mouth against your cheek.

"well, why not," he entertains. taking the thick, extendable cord from your hand and plugging it into the port on his lower back.

you flit around a few other places before your snagging a stoll for yourself and placing it in front of his knees. you push some estranged tools around with your forearm and, while moving your sucker from one cheek to the other, you begin to maneuver your hair out of your face.

boothill enjoys watching you in this way. it felt familiar- just seeing someone move around in rather mundane ways. this small sense of domesticity was familiar and comfortable. it calmed him; reminding him of home.

"what's the problem?" you finally ask, looking a tad bit more awake and more or less ready to work on whatever issue he had to present.

his right arm moves to cross his lap and his palm bangs twice on his opposing forearm where his internal revolver barrel is.

"i got myself in quite a fuss with this dang thing. forkin' bullet got jammed in the goose-dud thing and i can't even pop the barrel open to reload it."

you stare at him like he just said the dumbest thing you've ever heard. "you came all the way here. because your arm got jammed by a bullet." the way you spoke sounded exactly how you looked at him.

"this ain't no one-handed fix, sugar." you stay quiet, not willing to admit he had a point. using both hands to not only try and pop open the jam, but also tinker around with what was essentially his whole arm's motion control- that did require a bit more finesse than just slamming his arm on a wall until it gave way... which is precisely what you could imagine him doing.

"fine," you yield. "take off that sorry excuse of a 'jacket' unless you want that sleeve covered in oil."

you twist away from him, half-standing at a strange angle to reach across your workbench for something as the satisfying sound of the bottom of his small zipper unlatches. shrugging it off, he tosses it onto your bench, covering a few loose tools and scribblings of paper.

you fully get out of your stool and trot over to the other side of the shop to roll over a smaller table with a metal tub. you wheel it to his left and, without instruction, boothill lays his arm over it.

as you begin to tinker around with his arm, picks, pliers, oil and all working on trying to dislodge the stray bullet that had caused such an issue, boothill has taken to lounging comfortably as he watches.

his right arm, free of any issues or problem fixing, was propped up on the corner of your workbench at his side with his forearm resting along the edge. his metal fingers had snagged a stray nail from the workspace and had been twirling it absent-mindedly between his knuckles like a bullet.

the only words spoken between you both as you worked was the occasional quick apology if something you did prods against a wire that sent a shock up his arm or made his fingers twitch.

"easy. last thing we need ya' doin' is settin' my gun off, sugar," he had told you. just because his arm machinery wasn't properly loaded- ain't nothing was stopping you from accidentally relodging the bullet and sending it through your wall. the sudden discharge coupled with his exposed wires could easily kick his arm back with enough recoil to knock you clean out with how close you were leaning in to see what you were doing.

"okay..!" you whisper to yourself before the sound of something sliding down in his arm is followed by a sensation; one he was almost familiar with. "give me a wrench. heavy," you instruct. on hand was spread across his forearm just at the start of the revolver barrel, the other outstretched towards your bench. grabbing the nearest one, he slaps it into your palm.

with a two, heavy whacks using your newly acquired wrench, you slam the barrel shut and boothill lets out a small breath.

"now, that feels a heck of a lot better," he chuckles. you reach around his forearm, release the tension latch and the barrel swings out successfully. with your pliers, you easily remove one problematic, greasy bullet. "knew i could count on you to get the job done."

"and thanks to you, my hands are gross," you chide. fingers greased in oil. boothill grabs a rag from your workbench drawer and tosses it over your sullied hands. you start working the cloth between your fingers the moment it hits your skin. "i recommend you stick around and charge up before heading out on whatever you got lined up next."

"shucks, you mean it?" you can't tell if he's genuinely thankful you'd allow him to stay or if he was just being facetious. once your hands were at least dry, you start using it to wipe down his arm next.

"course i do. i'll have to give you a quick check again before you go. i'll mess around and try and make it so it doesn't jam like that again. whatever tech-doc you worked with before really needed to focus on the finer details." boothill wondered if you knew that you had lifted his newly repaired limb and started rotating and twisting it like you were admiring your work. like you were admiring him.

"they don't matter no more," he tells you. "i got ya' now, don't i? who needs some random rear shirt-bag, when i got the best in the forkin' business right here?"

"careful now. flattery will get your everywhere."

"no shirt?"

"watch your mouth," you tease before you stand. "i mean it though. stay put and charge."

"i ain't no stupid electronic," he clicks. his body moves and twists so both of his arms are now leaning on the workbench behind him. both elbows supporting him as his arms dangle off the ledge. "but I hear ya'." his eye shuts under the shadow of his hat.

his eye reopened no sooner than it shut when the shadow caused by the brim of his cowboy hat disappeared and the light of your shop flitered through his eyelids. with a clear, open eye, he lifts his chin to see you standing in front of him.

you had pinched the brim of his hat between your fingers, snatching it off his head and revealing the fullness of his long, dual-colored hair and cross-hair-infused eye. you take his hat and nonchalantly toss it behind his right shoulder to avoid getting any residual oil from his left arm on it.

"take your damn hat off inside my shop will you? you don't need it." you turn away from him as he continues to stare at your back, slack jawed. you mutter something about washing your hands and arms before you disappear behind a doorway and around the corner of the wall. he'd been in the entirety of your shop before, so he knows where you went but all he could think about was you flicking his hat off him.

the cowboy let his head fall backward, the hair on the backside of his skull tangling with screws and pencils as his right hand comes to rest over his face. he can hear the water running in the other room.

"ah, son of a nice lady...!"

boothill has really got to tell you not to mess with his hat.

a/n: one day i'll write a flirty hat rule fic. *sigh* one day.

[tinyraptorhands]

Whats In A (Nick) Name?

It seemed a little...unfair.

Everyone in class 1-A got a nickname from Katsuki Bakugo. Ears, Shitty Hair, Icy Hot, Dunceface, Raccoon Eyes, Ponytail, Four Eyes, Deku....the list went on.

Everyone, except you-that is.

You two got along well enough. He...tolerated your presence more than most. So...why did he never give you a fun little nickname?!

Sure, maybe in the long run that was a good thing. It wasn't like what he nicknamed people were nice. (Seriously, Soysauce face?? Poor Sero. And Round cheeks? Ochako deserved better!) So. You did what any sane person would do.

You gave *him* nicknames.

"Ratsuki!" "Bakubeans!" "Bomberboy!" "Kit Kat!" "Katsudon!" "Bakustayawhile!" (Admittedly, the last one was pretty lame, but you were running out of ideas.)

And each time Katsuki gave you his signature glare and would huff and puff.

Classic.

And yet...you *still* hadn't earned a coveted Katsuki branded Nickname! It was just...either 'you' or your last name.

How boring.

"Y/N, I really don't understand why you're so adamant on getting him to give you a nickname." Tsuyu said to you one day as you both ate lunch.

"Seriously, it's kinda not a good thing." Ochako waved her chopsticks dismissively.

You shook your head. "No, see, you don't get it. *Everyone* has a nickname! And yet it's like I don't even register in his brain! I feel left out! An outcast! A reject!!"

"Thats...a little extreme, don't you think?" Midoriya sweatdropped, and Tenya nodded.

"Really! You should be grateful he isn't making fun of you or your quirk!" The class president said, hands chopping in their usual way.

Nah. You weren't buying it. Something was up. "Mark my words. I *will* have a nickname by the end of this year."

The four of them looked at you. You clearly were a lost cause.

And so, you continued to harass the ash blonde grump.

"Hey, Katsup!" You called out to him in the common room, passing by. Apparently, Katsuki had had enough.

"DAMMIT WHAT IS WITH THE STUPID ASS NAMES!? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" He finally snapped, veins pulsing in his head and neck, palms sparking.

Bingo.

"Well. You give everyone else a nickname." You deadpanned.

"So!? What makes you think I want or need one!?" Katsuki grunted, fingers twitching at his sides.

"Because you haven't given me one!"

He was silent. Almost gobsmacked, really.

"...What?" He finally spoke. You sighed as if it were a hassle to talk about.

"You've given *everyone* in class a nickname. Everyone except me. What's the deal??" You put your hands on your hips. "Am I just unworthy of your blessing??"

"B-blessing!? Are you stupid??" Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No, just feeling left out-"

"You don't need one." He stated, cutting you off. You frowned.

"What?? Why not!?" You clenched your fists. "Aren't we friends!?"

"Thats not the poi-"

"Am I just some dumb forgettable extra?!"

"Will you shut u-"

"Just tell m-"

He suddenly came up to you, grabbing you by the shoulders. He gave you a look that could kill, and you swallowed.

"You want a nickname?" He asked, voice low. You blushed at his proximity, but nodded. "Fine. But you should know, I didn't give you one for a reason."

You blinked, and cocked your head. "...Why?"

He shook his head. "Because you're too good for a nickname. And if I gave you one..." he blushed, "I'd want it to mean something special. To mean..." he looked down, taking a slow breath through his nose. "...Dammit. I'd want it to mean you were mine."

Oh.

You felt your face heat up.

"...Yeah?" You squeaked out. He nodded.

"Yeah. So....if you want a nickname..." His eyes met yours, "y'gotta be mine, first."

You bit your lip, blushing. "...Okay. Then...I'll be yours."

He smirked. "Good choice...Sweetheart."

((I will get the last part of You Scratch My Back out soon. I just had this stuck in my head forever. I honestly was stuck on what he could call the reader, so if you dont like Sweetheart, you could easily replace it. I was thinking sunshine, but that's kinda specific, so...yeah.))

[bambiihee]

Mommy Seonghwa and don't ask who and don't ask why.

MOMMY, DEAREST. 박성화

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ NSFW + MDNI! park seonghwa x fem!reader • mommy kink (m. rec), soft dom!hwa, sub!reader, teasing, brat tamer!hwa, oral (f. rec), pussy slapping, dirty talk, vaginal fingering

[notes.] this honestly made me giggle so hard when i first got it?? okay baby i wont ask questions <3 usually mommy hwa isn’t my favorite thing ever? but seeing him in heels recently has been Doing Things to me… model!hwa when i catch you… (this is a crazy thing to make as my first ateez post. wow.)

to celebrate 400 followers, i'm opening my inbox for drabble requests!! please send your thoughts here!

it was funny, at first.

well, it actually wasn’t ever funny to seonghwa, but he didn’t have the guts to tell you that.

you were just copying his members, repeating a silly nickname that they threw at him every once in a while. when they did it, it never bothered him in the slightest, and he would just laugh along with the rest of them. it was just a little joke.

but his members had only ever called him mom or mother. They had never called him mommy.

the first time you said it, seonghwa had been sure he had misheard you. but no, when he asked you to repeat yourself you did loudly and clearly; “could you grab that for me please, mommy?”

seonghwa's brain short circuted.

you and the other boys howled with laughter at his shocked expression, wide-eyed and stuttering out a near-illegible “y-yeah, sure—“, just barely able to pull himself together to save face in front of everyone. he gives a halfhearted chuckle, but inside his mind was reeling.

it wasn’t that he hated it, it was that he liked it a little too much.

every time he hears it his stomach flips and his ears turn red, something about the way the world flows from your mouth so sweetly and naturally that made his thoughts go crazy. his sweet little doll, pretty face so innocent when you're calling him something like... that.

something so dominant.

Maybe that makes him weird, the nickname "mommy" making him feel powerful instead of emasculated. How it makes him feel so dominant over you, fills him with the desire to take care of you. he finds it embarrassing, to a degree, but he can't deny how the word and the thoughts that come with it makes his cock twitch in his pants.

for the first time, seonghwa wishes that he was better at hiding things from you, because he's certain you've started to catch on.

again, and again, and again, seonghwa hears the nickname fall from your mouth.

mommy. mommy. mommy.

"mommy, please?" you beg him one time, looking up at him with big wet eyes, asking for him to buy you boba of all things, and it takes everything he had not to cum in his pants.

and when he folds and hands you his card, because he's utterly powerless when it comes to spoiling you, you shoot him the prettiest smile and say; "thank you, mommy."

he was at his limit, and that was before you took it into the bedroom.

because with you laid out underneath him, late one night with his head buried between your plush thighs, you cry out to him, "fuck, mommy, more!"

seonghwa groans into your pussy, unable to hold back just how much he enjoys the nickname when he's been blessed with what it sounds like when you moan. "more?" he chuckles, gently biting down on your clit, "my, you're greedy tonight."

he dives in anyways, just like you knew he would, always eager to please even when he's teasing you for being bratty. "i knew you liked it when i called you that." you giggle breathlessly, but your laughter cuts into a choked moan, seonghwa's long fingers wrapping tight around your throat as he spreads your pussy lips wide with his other hand.

"and still you said it every damn second." he tsks, dark hooded eyes looking up at you from between your legs. "been a bad girl, haven't you, my love? trying to get mommy to snap and punish you?"

you swallow hard, and seonghwa can feel your throat bobbing beneath his fingers. "hwa--"

"that's not my name, is it?" he pulls away from you just enough to land a wet slap to your cunt, hard enough to make your thighs tremble and your lips fall open in a broken squeal. he soothes the sting with his tongue sliding wetly up between your folds, stopping to rub tight circles against your oversensitive clit. his hot breaths fan your leaking entrance, painfully empty, twitching needily around nothing but air. "there's something else i'd like you to scream tonight."

his lips suction around your clit, and two long fingers slide deep into your hole, curling deliciously against your sweet spot with a practiced ease. you throw your head back against the pillows, your eyes blown wide and your mouth hung open;

"o-oh my god-- mommy!"