#to be eaten devoured enjoyed

[lazyjellyfish300]

I DIDN'T KNOW THEY MOVED THANKSGIVING TO FEBRUARY

A/N: This little fic is dedicated to my friend @cmdrfupa, for her birthday today!! To the lovely Lu: I wish you the happiest of birthdays and a year filled with love, joy, and everything you ask for! Pairing: Nanami x Reader WC: 4.2k Summary: Nanami is acting awfully suspicious. You endeavor to get to the bottom of this.

For as long as you’ve known him, Nanami Kento never compromised on a good night’s rest. He maintains impeccable sleep hygiene practices; he rarely ever snacks past 8 pm, avoids using his phone right before bed and has a routine that sees him get up and go to bed at more or less the same time every day.

A deeply ingrained sense of vigilance makes him a rather light sleeper, something you’ve quickly noticed as you watched him wake up countless times at the lightest rustle on your part, but he does tend to fall back asleep effortlessly, usually snuggling closer to you or readjusting your covers before slipping back into slumber with ease.

So you think little of it at first when you wake up one night to find his side of the bed empty. A quick glance at the clock indicates it is only 3:07 AM and you figure he’s probably just in the restroom.

You comfortably snuggle back under your covers, relieved that there is still plenty of time before your alarm goes off. It’s good timing, you think to yourself, that you’ve woken and that you’re catching him out of bed and that you will be able to reclaim your favorite big spoon position.

Five minutes pass, then ten, then twelve, thirteen. The sheets on his side are ice cold, and now you wonder how long he’s been gone. Impatience morphs into slight concern and trumps somnolence, so you decide to get up and check on him, sliding into your slippers before crossing the distance to the ensuite bathroom door and giving it a light tap.

“Hey, you good in there?”

No response. You knock again.

Only now do you notice the notably missing sliver of light that usually peeks through the edge of the door, a telltale sign of Nanami’s absence.

How odd.

“Kento?” you call out, this time to the rest of the house.

In the hushed stillness of the night, the gentle click of a kitchen cupboard door closing served as a barely audible response. The distinctive sound of the fridge opening for a few seconds before shutting again resonated through the hallway as you tiredly stumble your way towards the kitchen, where you find Nanami leaning against the counter, in the dark with only the dim light from his phone screen illuminating his features.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” he says, his fatigued eyes straining to discern your form in the dark.

“I was looking for you…” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep, a confused scoff escaping your lips before you flip the question on him. “What are you doing up?”

“I developed a craving.”

“This late at night?”

Nanami sets his phone down, his response coming out as a barely audible low hum as if a testament to his own incredulity. Now better accustomed to the darkness, your eyes find the familiar jar Nanami holds in his hand, and you watch him pick what you now recognize to be a small jalapeño pepper and pop it into his mouth.

“And you were craving encurtido?” It’s an uncanny sight, one that has you questioning whether you are dreaming, but the increasingly clear sound of your voice grounds you in the reality of your wakefulness.

“I figured for the electrolytes...” he replies, deadpan.

“The electrol—Straight from the jar, Ken?” You retort, decidedly baffled.

“In my defense, my intention was to only have a few, so I didn’t bother…” he replies, trailing off.

“Okay… Do you not want to eat something more consistent? Was dinner really that lacking last night?” You say, finally feeling lucid enough to match his playful stride.

“Dinner was fantastic, you know this. No, I’m only having a few of these and then I’ll head back to sleep.”

Nanami’s phone auto locks, plunging the two of you into complete darkness. You pat at the wall beside you and flip the switch on, and head towards the cupboard to pour yourself a cup of water, now that you’re positively awake.

You lean your back against the counter, mirroring his stance as you join the spot across from him and from which you observe him out of the corner of your eye as you slowly sip from your cup. He appears to be absentmindedly picking at the pickled vegetables, visibly distracted.

Ever the observant man, Nanami notices and arches an inquisitive eyebrow at you as he catches your gaze.

“This will not bode well for your stomach, big guy. Please take an antacid after this, you’re not invincibly young anymore.”

“I’ll be fine. I just got a little hungry.”

“I don’t know, Kento, this is so unlike you. I can’t remember the last time you had yourself a midnight snack, let alone spicy food, of all things.”

You can barely contain the laughter now bubbling within you, realizing now that this newly formed memory of the near absurd state in which you’d caught him red-handed will be the source of your endless amusement, of his relentless torment over the next few days.

You add, now laughing in earnest. “Are you sure you don’t want me to quickly fix something for you?”

“Thank you, I appreciate it, but I assure you I’m sated now,” he closes the jar, leans over to your side to plant a kiss on your forehead, and continues, “I’m sorry I worried you. Let’s go back to bed.”

For the few minutes you find yourself in bed waiting for Nanami once more as he brushes his teeth and freshens up for the remainder of the night, you rack your brain to try to figure out what could have possibly prompted this uncharacteristic mid-night adventure. You’d watched him eat dinner, and he’d cleaned off a healthy portion of your homemade chili potato bread. Surely he couldn’t be that hungry, right?

He was visibly on his phone before you walked in and he looked quite a bit distracted, even a bit shifty. Perhaps there was something he wanted to surprise you with? Your birthday has just recently passed, and you are still months away from your anniversary.

You skirt around the least likely justifications until the most plausible one, the one that eventually presents itself like a road appearing through dissipating fog, makes itself evident; of the strong possibility that Nanami Kento is concealing something from you.

Your sentiment is one of overwhelming curiosity more than anything else, one that lingers still in the back of your mind by the time Nanami emerges from the bathroom and finds his spot lying down facing you.

You audibly clear your throat and he looks up at you, freezing mid-movement as he rearranges the covers and you sense him searching your eyes in the dark.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’ve got big spoon now. My turn, remember?”

“I question whether this switch is warranted, but it’s late, so I’ll let you have this one.”

“You’re not letting me have anything, Kento, you know the terms. If anything, we were both out of bed just now, so it absolutely counts, doubly so.”

A chuckle of surrender escapes him as he flips over, his warm body pressing into yours as you slide your arms under him and place your hand over your hands.

The weight of your concerns begins to lift, leaving behind mostly the blissful oblivion of sleep and for the rest of the night, all is well.

A couple of days later, you’re enjoying a rainy Saturday afternoon indoors, the soft glow of your lamplight casting a warm, inviting ambiance against the otherwise gray backdrop outside.

You’ve completed your to-do list early, and the feeling of accomplishment has since settled over you, along with the promise of a relaxing afternoon, one that you and Nanami get to spend together; one hand holds your book while the other gently tangles in his soft hair as he lay quietly on your lap, equipped with a book of his own.

You’re about an hour in when he shuts his book and rests his eyes, staying still for a minute before breaking the silence.

“We should watch that show.” He says with his eyes still closed.

Still engrossed in your novel, it takes you a few seconds to pull your gaze towards him and to register his words. He speaks again before you get the chance to respond.

“Tossed salads and scrambled eggs…” He says impassively, and you blink at him a few times before he opens his eyes, looks directly into yours, and adds “Oh my.”

You burst into uncontrollable laughter at Nanami’s deadpan rendition of one of your favorite show’s theme songs.

“You want to watch Fraiser?” You ask in between giggles, “Now?”

“It can be later. Or now. Only if you’re up for it.” He says, his voice finding its usual tone again, which only makes you laugh once more.

“Oh, I’m up for it. I’m just surprised, it’s usually that baking competition show you watch on the weekends.

“I figured I’d mix things up a bit.” His eyes peer up at you once more between strands of tousled hair falling across his forehead.

“Alright Mr. Adventurous, let’s get to it, then.”

He sits up and reaches for the remote as you shuffle around, finally settling into a comfortable position on the worn couch in front of the TV screen.

Just after the third episode starts, Nanami stretches slightly and gets up.

“I’m going to make coffee. Would you like one?”

“Actually, would you mind brewing me some of that oolong grape tea?”

“Sure thing,” he says, a hint of surprise in the subtle arch of his brow.

“I’m mixing things up,” you say, playfully mimicking his tone from earlier, a slight smirk playing on your lips.

You reach for the remote to pause the episode.

“No need to pause it. I’ll just set the water to brew and be back.”

You turned your attention back to your episode, while you heard Nanami busy himself in the kitchen.

This series… You can recite most of these scenes word for word and yet each rewatch still captivates you as if it’s your first time watching it. By the time you’re near the end of your episode, the rich, warm aroma of velvety robusta coffee has decidedly wafted over to find you where you sat, filling your senses in a comforting blanket of scent.

The low whirring sound of the electric kettle has long since ceased, and you no longer hear Nanami’s rummaging on the other side of the wall. Just as you have half a mind to call out to him, you stifle a yawn, a feeling of drowsiness beginning to read its unwelcome head. You’d planned to take a nap later on, but now you’re determined to see this watch session through. A concluding thought comes to your mind; a cup of coffee actually sounds perfect right now.

Needing to stretch your legs anyway, you decide to get up and get it yourself.

“Hey Ken—”

You peer around the corner to find the kitchen empty.

On the counter, you find your tea bag still only halfway assembled, loose leaf almost spilling out of the unsealed bag, sitting next to the coffee machine, where his cooling cup sits.

Where the hell did he disappear to? you wonder.

Your question is answered a mere seconds later, as Nanami emerges from the hallway, looking somewhat more disheveled than he’d left, his sleeves are pulled up rather than carefully rolled back, and his hair is downright messy, as if he’d just wrestled with something. He speaks before you get the chance to say anything.

“I went looking for the oolong. I thought I’d brought it to my office the other day.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and without thinking, you open a drawer just beside you, where you distinctly remember seeing the oolong tea box this morning only to find it now notably missing, an empty space that screams its obvious absence.

Your eyes return to Nanami, who is now holding up the familiar packaging.

“Turns out I was right,” he says with a slight smile. “Sorry for the delay in service,” he adds playfully.

You know this man well, so you sense it, in the nervous quickness in his step, in the barely perceptible aversion of his gaze, that this is not the full story.

You know this man too damn well, so you witness the realization hits him; he freezes in his movements for the briefest of moments, but you catch it. Your eyes settle on Nanami’s hands as they hover over the overflowing, half-assembled tea bag, loose oolong leaves spilling onto the table in a noisy refutation of his unconvincing tale. Your eyes travel to his face and you watch as a minute twitch of his lips, as a small sharp inhale and exhale through the nose, betray some kind of amusement he appears to be trying to suppress.

This scene juxtaposed with the Fraiser ending theme now blaring in the background can only be humorous to you, and can only add to the perplexity of the situation.

“So—” you start.

“Did you prepare them differently?” Nanami cuts in, casual as ever, as he fastens the tea bag and gently places it in your cup, and reaches for the kettle, setting it on once more, his movements now carrying a relaxed fluidity.

“What?” You ask, only now realizing that this is your first word in what you feel like has already been a long exchange.

“The cookies you baked yesterday,” He repeats, speaking a bit louder to be heard over the increased whirring sound of the kettle, as the already boiled water quickly comes to ebullition. “Did you add a secret ingredient or something? They are particularly amazing.” He reaches for one in the box you’d stored them and takes a bite as if to emphasize his point.

“Nutmeg…” You say cautiously, eyes narrowing on him as you watch him casually pour the boiling water into your cup.

“I see. So you added nutmeg?”

“No, the nutmeg was always there. I just dosed it differently this time around and I—Actually, you know what? No. I’m keeping this one to myself. Secret recipe.”

“That’s a shame,” he says his tone laced with mock disappointment as he hands you your cup, with his left hand twisting it around to ensure you can grasp it at its handle, and offers you the second half of his cookie in his right hand, letting it hover over your lips, a mischievous smile on his face, “and here I thought we were all about sharing here.”

You narrow your eyes at him once again and yet also take the entire remainder of the cookie into your mouth, a move that visibly surprises him. You chew as you try to formulate a retort that you don’t bother delivering, as he picks up his coffee cup and guides you back to the living room to resume your watch session.

Both of you pretending that you didn’t detect his obvious play at a deflection.

Both of you ignoring the obvious untruth you’d caught him in.

It only comes to your mind much that evening, long after you rolled credits on the seventh Fraiser episode, long after an enjoyable dinner, and long after you’ve tucked into bed, wrapping up the captivating book that had you staying up into the early hours of the morning as Kento slept soundly beside you; a theory that you are now incredibly eager to test in the morning.

“I can’t believe they want you in the office on a day like this,” Nanami mutters as he looks out the window at the large snowflakes beginning their descent through the gray morning sky. “Surely it’s not advisable ahead of a damn snowstorm?”

“Yup, I can’t believe it either. I only have early meetings, though, so I should be able to wrap up before the worst of it comes down early this evening.”

The rest of the weekend flew by; two days have elapsed, and it is now Monday. Even as you sit on the ottoman in the vestibule, focused on fastening your second boot, you can sense Nanami’s concerned gaze shifting to you.

“And you’re sure you can’t work from home?”

“I told you, this is orientation week. They want all of us newbies on site.”

“You should call out.”

“It’s really not that bad yet and I’ll be back before you know it.” You reply, offering him a reassuring smile to alleviate his apprehension as he approaches you, towering over where you’re still seated.

“Then, at the very least, let me drop you off.”

“I appreciate your concern, Ken, I really do. But I’ll be fine, this isn’t my first rodeo. Besides, don’t you have that important call later? I need you to lock in and stop worrying about me.”

“If there’s anything off, anything at all—” You stand up and reach out to him.

“I will call you. Promise.” You press a kiss to his lips, and you indulge in his lingering hold for a short moment before you pull away and head out to your car. It’s in moments like these that the depth of his care for you is the most palpable; you can discern so much better these days, level-headed as he is, the worry betrayed by his voice, the concern visible in his eyes.

Kento is so good to you. He is so good, period.

Except when he’s not.

Nanami waits a couple of minutes. It’s not until after the distinct sound of your car’s ignition, followed by the garage door’s mechanical whir and thud are made audible that he finally gets to moving.

Finally. How long has it been? A week? Six? Seven days of poking and prodding, of observing and watching? An arduous week peppered with moments of weakness spent wondering if the prize was worth the trouble he was going through, worth the opponent he has to make of you; moments that have no longevity whatsoever, as he’s quickly reminded of the phantom taste he is now convinced he will be unable to shake off.

And you are good. You are too damn good at this extreme variant of mental chess, it’s almost unfair. He’s always known you to be a brilliant woman, it’s part of what he adores so much about you, but this is another level. Where is the line between extreme cleverness and unrelenting cunning?

You are too good.

But not infallible.

Because now that he is reasonably sure that you’re gone, he makes his way back to the room that doubles as your home office and brings the door to a half close, turning to face the shelf that sits behind it.

He crouches down, emulating the position he’d found you in less than twenty-four hours ago, to the bottom row, labeled ‘Taxes’. He pulls out the 2021 filing box, and he knows to pull this one because you’ve led him to it, yesterday, when he finally caught you in a scene he’s since gleefully replayed over and over again in his mind.

Nanami opened the door to your home office, inadvertently lightly bumping you in the process.

“Ouch!”

“Darling? Shit, I didn’t see you there. I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

He peered around the door, just in time to see you replace a filing box and to rise from your kneeling position. Grabbing your arm where the door had bumped you.

“I’m fine. It’s my fault, I should have shown some sign of life when I heard you approaching,” you say sheepishly.

Nanami moved your hand and rubbed your bare arm where you held it. As he cast his gaze down to your arm to examine it, something on the floor immediately caught his attention.

A small torn piece of paper, the familiar red markings on a yellow wrapper, stood out like a sore thumb against the deep brown hardwood floor, one he would now recognize anywhere. He must have let his gaze linger too long because he noticed you following, your eyes widening ever so slightly as you locked onto the damning piece of evidence.

He watched as you suddenly pulled your arm away from him and averted his gaze.

“I was just looking for an old banking document I need to bring it to HR tomorrow.”

Nanami watched, oh he watched as you discreetly kicked the wrapper under the shelf as you moved around him

“And did you find it?” He asked after you, turning only his head towards you.

“Find what?”

“The document you just mentioned?”

“Oh, no I haven’t. But I have the digital version somewhere, I’ll just have to find my old login, but don’t worry, I’ll figure it out!” You said before skittering out of the room.

There it was again, the taste of smooth coffee-flavored cream with a milk chocolate coating. It’s been days since his first bit, but Nanami remembered it still, the gentle crunch of a wafer preceded by the slightly bitter coffee essence, followed by a creamy chocolate richness that balances out the coffee notes. So light, so airy, so sweet, but not too sweet. The perfect balance.

The last he’d seen it was when you yanked the bag away from him, as he went for his fourth piece in a row. Or was it the fifth?

“Alright enough, Kento, these are limited, so we clearly need to ration them.”

“You don’t trust my discipline?” He’d said in mock offense.

“Your firm grip on this box tells me everything I need to know. Give it.” Stifling a shocked laugh as you yanked it from him in earnest.

“Oh, I see. So you’d selfishly hide your little stash from me?”

“Sir, this was a gift addressed to me! You know damn well they don’t carry these rare candies anywhere in this country, and I am intent on not speed running these in a day, so you best back off and behave if you want me to share this!” You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore. You’d never seen Nanami so obsessed over anything, let alone some sweets.

“Unfortunately for you, your first mistake was to let me taste this one.” He says as he neatly folds the wrapper he’s still holding. “You won’t succeed in hiding them for long, I fear.”

“Watch me.”

And oh, did he watch you. Throughout the week, observing as you snuck two pieces for each one you would bring out to share with him, seemingly out of nowhere. Nanami knew this was silly, that he was being irrationally ridiculous over a few sweets.

He couldn’t place what it was, whether it was your assertiveness and confidence in keeping this away from him, the underlying challenge this posed him, or whether it was that this chocolate simply tasted too damn good. Whatever it was, it was driving him insane, and all he knew was that he had to locate your secret stash.

Not even the passing thought that he was behaving like Gojo on a sugar rush had sufficed to deter Nanami from his singular mission, a passing thought that made him scoff in disbelief.

None of it mattered anymore. He had a lead.

But now, unburdened by your observant eye, untethered by the running risk of you walking in on him as you’d already done over the course of the week, nearly exposing his efforts, he feels the taste of victory.

He reaches under the shelf and laughs to himself as he retrieves the damning manifestation of the one mistake you’ve made.

He opens the filing box.

It’s empty, barring a piece of folded paper.

It’s a note he quickly unfolds, immediately recognizing your handwriting, his eyes dancing over the single line of the message, the one that spells out:

“I have bested you, Nanami Kento.”

Nanami flinches at the sound of your voice, he almost topples over when you step into the room, holding your boots in your hands and tiptoeing in your socks.

He chuckles lightly as he stands up.

“If you’re telling me you set this up…”

“Off some snacks, Ken?” You said, releasing the burst of laughter you’ve been holding for a hot minute now.

“Pretended to leave…”

“All this off some freaking candy?” You’re laughing hysterically now.

“It wasn’t the candy, love, it was that one chocolate… Coffee Crunch something...” He’s chuckling now too, eyes closed as he shakes his head as if he’s trying to place the taste.

“Coffee Crisp. Don’t I know it! Made you lose your damn mind.”

“The deception of this is…”

“Well-warranted, I’m now convinced! ”

Nanami sighs, visibly defeated.

“I don’t know what they put in that bar—Wait, aren’t you going to be late now?”

“Oh, I’m not driving in that mess. I was going to put in a work-from-home request last night, but found that they’d already told us not to come in any way. Besides, who will distribute this if I’m gone?” You add as you pull one of the coveted coffee and chocolate bars out of your coat pocket and wave it into his face.

You watch his eyes widen, his pupils dilate as he makes a grab for it, but you pull back just in time to have him watch it slip through his fingers.

“You have to share.” He says almost too solemnly.

“I really don’t. But maybe… you can earn it? Work for it.” You say teasingly as you hold the bar behind you while making your way towards Nanami, not stopping until he hits the edge of your desk.

“Another challenge?” He asks, his voice now a low timbre. “Careful, love. This one I’m intent on winning.”

[vanillarosekiss]

just you sitting on simon's face for the first time! ♡

warnings: oral (f!receiving), dubcon? sorta, smutty obviously... i think that's all.

word count: 0.4k

You felt like you were in an extremely compromising position, leaky slit positioned just hovering above Simon's chin, refusing to do what he was asking you to. Your thighs burned slightly from holding yourself up, your bare chest rising and falling with heavy breaths and an air of nervousness.

"Lovie, c'mon, you'll be fine. It's not like I haven't eaten you out before." he remarked, hands fondling your hips gently, and tracing down to your thighs every so often.

"Si! Stop being so..!" you couldn't even think properly let alone speak, when he was asking you to ride his face.

"Stop being what? Crude? That's a bit difficult when we're in the middle of having sex, sweetheart." his smirk said everything that you needed to know in that moment. "Why are you being so hesitant? S'alright, baby, I want you to sit on my face like a good girl, yeah?"

You couldn't help but think of negative sides of this request... like what if you were too heavy? Or what if he didn't like it? Simon could practically hear how hard you were thinking about these things. Silly girl, he thought, didn't you know that he would be able to bench you without a falter? It wasn't as if he was weak, no, he was large and could throw you around anytime if he really wanted.

"I'll just squash you, Si" you mumble, hands resting now on his chest as you began to move away from his face.

His hands gripped tighter onto your hips, dragging you back up to his mouth.

"How many times am I gonna have to ask before I have to force you to sit on my face, angel? I've been patient with you, you're pushing it now."

After hearing that, your worries had somehow dissipated into thin air, and it turned out to be an overall win-win situation. You got to have immense pleasure from Simon's experienced ministrations on your now puffy, sensitive clit. And he got to enjoy eating what he always said was 'his favourite little sweet treat'.

Your moans became even softer and more breathy as he devoured your cunt like a starved mad-man, feeling vibrations run through your core as he grunted occasionally when you rutted yourself onto his face harder, in desperation of a release. His tongue fondled your pulsating star, which was swollen now due to his everlasting motions.

You felt a sudden heat emerge and make itself known of in your lower stomach, beginning to spread downwards. He lapped at you faster now, holding your thighs in place as you squirmed on top of him in overstimulation, allowing you to orgasm on his mouth and ride your wave out whilst he kept suckling at your delicate, precious pearl.

Tag list 𖠋: @punkkture @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @caro-line19  @decaffeinateddelusionbread @lovidovii @xoxoxoaspen @i-ship-stony-and-superfamily @simonrileysdarling @siphon07 @figthoughts @mlthree

[missdynamighttt]

i can just imagine that bf! katsuki's idea of a prank for april fools is... truly something else.

it was april 1st, and you knew something was up.

katsuki had been acting too smug all morning—watching you with that feral little glint in his eyes, lips twitching like he was holding back a secret he could barely contain.

he wasn’t exactly subtle. he never was.

so when he gestured toward the living room with a deceptively casual, “got you a seat, sweets,” you should’ve known better.

you looked down at the chair behind you. then at his suspiciously innocent expression.

then back at the chair.

it looked like a chair.

still… something reeked of bullshit.

but you, tragically, were trusting. and very tired. and in very, very tiny shorts. so—you sat.

and the “chair” just, vanished.

because he’d yanked it away at the last second, and you landed squarely on his face.

a startled squeal left your lips, your hands flailing for balance as your thighs straddled his head. “katsuki—!”

he let out a guttural groan that vibrated straight through you, hands already locking around your thighs to keep you exactly where you were.

“happy fuckin’ april fools, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice muffled deliciously between your legs.

you couldn’t even respond before he grabbed your hips and pulled you down with zero warning, your thighs straddling his face as you yelped, scrambling to keep your balance.

and when his tongue immediately slid up against the wet patch of your tiny shorts, already bullying through the damp fabric like he had something to prove, you knew you’d just been played in the most evil, genius way possible.

“th-this is not what.. april fools is supposed to mean,” you gasped.

“sure it is,” he growled. “i made a fool outta you. thought i was givin’ you a normal chair."

“katsuki—”

he just groaned again, louder this time, the sound shooting straight through your core as he pulled you down flush against his mouth. his nose bumped against your clit through the cloth and you nearly sobbed.

“fuck— this isn’t even—this doesn’t count as a prank—!”

“it does if it ends with me eatin’ you out,” he muttered smugly, voice muffled beneath your thighs. “best fuckin’ prank of the year.”

your hands fumbled uselessly at his hair, clutching for something to ground yourself while he tongued your clothed cunt like he hadn’t eaten in days. and god, he was relentless, licking and sucking and grinding his face up against the thin fabric like it offended him.

“there you fuckin’ go,” he purred, tongue flattening against the mess you were already making. “that’s it, atta girl. ride my fuckin’ face."

you shivered, legs trembling as your body betrayed you, hips rolling forward without you even realizing it, chasing the friction.

“you ambushed me, asshole!” you gasped, flushed and panting, though your hips were already obeying him, grinding down slowly, rhythmically, chasing the pressure.

“‘s not ambush if you’re enjoying it,” he growled. his teeth grazed your inner thigh. “now shut up and ride your throne.”

you couldn’t even respond. not when he hooked a finger under the waistband of your shorts and yanked them to the side—finally getting his mouth on your soaked cunt, bare and aching and already trembling for him.

your head tipped back. “fuck—!”

the smug bastard moaned into you, like he knew he had you, like he wanted you to drown in it—wanted you to remember exactly how dangerous it was to sit in anything he called a “seat.”

katsuki’s mouth was devouring you like this had been the plan all along. and, god, it probably had been. he was nothing if not meticulous when it came to fucking with you, especially when it involved your thighs on his face and your moans in his ears.

your nails dug into his scalp as his tongue licked a stripe up your folds, slow and hot and absolutely criminal. he didn’t give you time to catch your breath either, just latched onto your clit with a low grunt, sucking until your knees nearly gave out.

“shit—katsuki, i’m gonna—”

he growled, like good, and gripped your ass tighter, anchoring you against him. “then fuckin’ do it. cum on my face."

your brain short-circuited. he was groaning like he was starving, and you were trembling above him like you were about to break.

and when he slid two fingers inside you—without warning, curling them just right, you did.

your orgasm hit like a damn truck, hips jolting, thighs trembling around his head as you gasped his name so hard it cracked. katsuki didn’t let up, tongue lapping through your release while his fingers pumped you through every wave.

only when your legs started to give out completely did he finally ease up. just enough to look at you with his lips slick and his grin absolutely feral.

you collapsed onto his chest the second he sat up, totally spent, heart still pounding.

“best fuckin' holiday, huh?” he murmured, kissing your temple.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ ahhh pls pretend its still april 1 lmao, finally done with school and hopefully i get to write more!! hope you guys enjoyed💗💗

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

warning: teasing, prey and predator play

A/N: this is a kofi request~

As if being mated to a kitsune wasn’t hard enough, he had recently started playing tricks on you almost daily. Before you could handle the occasionally missing sock or jumpscare, but now he was practically bullying you.

When your kitsune wanted something, he always lowered his head and settled his nose on your knee, looking up through his eyelashes. Even though you were getting irritated with his mischievous behavior, you still loved the guy.

“Are you upset with me?” he asked, nosing your knee gently. “I’m just playing around… it’s boring being cooped up in here…”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t wrong. There had been a sudden blizzard, leaving the two of you trapped in your small cabin by the woods for the time being.

“… I know. It’s just… it gets a bit annoying being nipped at and chased. I know you have a lot of energy, but-“

His attention was suddenly drawn away from the conversation, and he nearly leaped towards the window. There was a bird outside, and now that’s all he could think about.

You huffed, whining at him as he bolted to the window to scratch at it, his orange tail swaying behind him.

“You’re impossible…”

Though some would assume your mate was scatterbrained, he was actually quite clever. The tricks he played on you required him to be cunning and intelligent, and oftentimes you could never guess what he was going to do next.

Sometimes he enjoyed chasing you. He got the zoomies often, nearly bouncing off the walls as he gave chase. It was scary, yet strangely arousing to see him treat you like prey.

“Little bunny~”

He often called you that when he was feeling mischievous. Deciding to get it over with, you rolled your eyes and walked towards the bedroom.

He was completely bare, cock erect and twitching slightly as he nearly purred at the sight of you.

“I’ve missed you…”

“Y-you just saw me- wait, why are you naked!?”

He chuckled, crawling across the comforter, his tail swaying behind him as he reached you at the foot of the bed.

“All these questions… aren’t you pent up? You know, us kitsunes know a lot about the human body…”

He ran a finger down your side, making you shiver. His claw barely scraped your sensitive skin. “Mmm… you know, if I didn’t love you so much I’d just… devour you whole~”

He leaned forward to brush his sharp teeth against your neck. You could feel his cock press against your belly, the tip dripping precum. “… teasing me…”

A smile stretched out across his face, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. “Am I? Mmm, I don’t think I am. Maybe you’re just… a sensitive little thing. Most humans are…”

He bit down on your neck, causing you let let out a yelp of pain. His tongue lapped up your blood, his eyes narrowed as he groaned. “God… you make it so difficult, darling. Every woman I’ve ever met has ended up eaten by me… but now I’ve formed a mating bond with you…”

His fox ears twitched as he purred, pulling you into his lap so his tip could rub against your clothed cunt. “Pretty thing, making me so soft for you… oh, how excited I get when I chase you…”

Suddenly, he was pinning you down, letting out a yip as you struggled and squirmed. He loved watching you struggle like a helpless bunny beneath him.

Like prey.

“That’s it…” he murmured, keeping your wrists pinned above you with one hand as the other pulled off your panties.

“Keep struggling…”

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, cooing in a teasing manner as you whined. “Someone is being a needy little thing. You want more, hmm?”

You lip wobbled, and you lifted your hips to press into his hand, desperate for him. “Please…”

He purred at the sight of your desperation, pushing his cock into you without warning. His thrusts were fast and unforgiving, his fluffy orange tail swaying behind him.

You could only whimper and moan, squirming beneath him.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, princess? You wanted to be fucked like the helpless little prey you are, didn’t you? Can’t even talk…”

He pressed kisses into your neck as you came around him, milking his cock. The kitsune quite enjoyed teasing you, but after planting his seed in your belly, he always became incredibly soft.

“Sweet thing…” he murmured, kissing at the bites he left along your neck and shoulders. “You know I’d never eat you, right? You may be sweet, but I prefer to enjoy your taste through… different means…”

To repay all the reading, he dipped his head between your legs to lap up your juices and his cum. It all mixed together, and watching him taste his own cum was pretty hot.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

[angrythingstarlight]

On His Shoulders

Summary: Bucky discovers a new way to have his favorite dessert after the two of you play around one night. And it awakens something in him.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

CW: Òral (fem rec), overstimulation, feral Bucky. Minors DNI. Plot? What plot?

A/N: Written on my phone, unbetad. Originally a response to an ask but the tags didn't like the link.

Summer celebration drabble #1: Get eaten out while your boyfriend holds you up in the air ✅️

He picks you up like you weigh nothing, tossing you up and laughing as you shriek. You always underestimate his strength until your legs over his shoulder, both hands in his hair and thighs locked tight around his head. He doesn’t notice anything except your pussy, displayed before his darkening blue eyes like a five-star dessert made just for him.

He immediately begins eating your pussy when he gets it in front of his face. No thoughts, no hesitation, pulling your panties out of his way and he just devours your sweet, aching cunt. 

Sloppy, greedy strokes of his tongue combined with soft, desperate flicks over your clit. Plush lips surrounding your clit, sucking it into his hot, wet mouth until it feels like he's pulling your orgasm right out of your body. It feels so good it almost hurts, you can't stand how good it is, inadvertently yanking his hair at the roots while shaking and sobbing his name. 

Bucky only goes faster, gets greedier when he feels your body jerking and trembling in his hands. Those little breathy sounds spilling from your lips makes him crave more and more. He can't stop devouring you. He cant think of a single reason why he shouldn't keep making you cum all over his face.

He wants his beard to be drenched by the time he's done.

You're unable to get away, legs dangling helplessly over his shoulders as white-hot pleasure spirals through you, leaving you dazed and breathless. 

Bucky keeps going and going even after you cum again, fulfilling his wish by soaking his beard. He's getting off on your frantic moans and the way you're gushing and spasming around him, his cock hard and aching and dripping precum. Bucky's going to cum in his boxers just from eating your pussy.

His fingers dig into the soft curves of your ass, keeping your pussy firmly pressed against his mouth. His jaw working as he teases your swollen, pulsing clit with the tip of his tongue. 

Bucky decides this, you on his shoulders while he grabs your ass in his large hands and grinds your pussy on his face as he gets you to cum again even after you swore you couldn't, this is his new favorite position. 

Bucky decides he doesn't give a fuck about breathing, not when he can keep eating your pussy. You taste too fucking good to let go, that he can live off your pussy alone, he doesn't need air,  he needs you on his tongue.  

Bucky gets so pussy drunk and feral and needy he can't think straight anymore. His world is reduced to this. And only this. He's aware that you're crying that it's too much Bucky, please Bucky I ngh fuck please —but god you taste so damn good, he can't stop, he can't keep his tongue out of your pretty little cunt. He can't, he can't, he can't. So he doesn't.

You better hold on tight and enjoy the ride. It's going to be a long one.  

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 4] Expecting

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Warnings: Sukuna's an ass

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna visits you every night, trying to fulfill his duty. He’s doing his best to make it happen, but your womb is as bare as the day you met. It’s been three months since the day you showed up, and he’s been having sex with you nearly daily. You should be pregnant by now.

Yet, you’ve bled between the months. He’s been keeping track, after all, it’s his whim. You claim the bleeding is lighter than your usual lunar cycle, but that doesn’t signify anything for him… Perhaps you’re less fertile? It doesn’t make sense to him. Women don’t bleed while they’re pregnant, therefore you’re not expecting. 

He’s feeding you, clothing you, giving you luxuries that you could never afford in your lifetime– How dare you not fulfill his simple wish. He’s even helped your brother and helped your aunt in the process as well, he’s going above and beyond while you have done nothing for him.

He’s become increasingly harsh with you. He won’t dare to lay a hand on you, but he’s meaner than usual. He’s at times cruel with you, and while you try to understand that he’s just frustrated with the situation and lack of results, you get in your feelings about his behavior. Who wouldn’t be upset at the fact that a monster nearly twice their size is yelling at them over something they can’t control?

“King Sukuna will enjoy dinner with lady Kyoko tonight, my queen.” Uraume bows down before you. They’ve been giving you the announcement at least once a week. He’s rewarding her for your barren womb. You simply hum in response, barely even acknowledging them.

“Please tell Hina to make my dinner early, I want to rest soon.” You tell them before they leave the room. Sukuna told you that you wouldn’t receive any loyalty from the very beginning, therefore you’re not upset that he goes off with Kyoko when he pleases. As a matter of fact, you’re glad that he’s choosing to visit her tonight.

You try not to think about the situation, though it’s the only thing that pops up in your mind. He’s done what you’ve asked from him, he’s simply waiting on you now. He’s impatient, he won’t wait around on you forever. He’ll get tired of waiting soon, and you fear what will happen to you that day. 

“My queen.” You barely hear Hina coming into your room, so you’re startled when you hear her voice. She holds your tray of food, and you sigh at the sight. The food she makes is delicious each and every time, but you’re just not in the mood to eat tonight. Sukuna won’t let you rest if he knows you haven’t eaten; he wants the process to be as fast and as smooth as possible.

“Hina, do you also cook for Kyoko?” You question once she puts the tray of food down. She furrows her brows, trying to recall who Kyoko is. The name doesn’t ring a bell.

“I apologize, I don’t know who that is.” She responds, and it gives you a sense of satisfaction that the servant that tends to you goes nowhere near Kyoko. Though Hina is more of your personal servant than anything. 

Ever since the night she cooked for you, she’s been tasked with a lot more regarding you. She’s well studied, knowing how to read and write which made Sukuna force her to teach you. She keeps you company during your lonely afternoons, cheering you up while you wait for Sukuna to visit your room. You’re starting to see her as a friend, and the thought of Kyoko getting anywhere near her upsets you.

“Will you keep me company tonight?” You ask her, even though she doesn’t have much of an option. Your request is a command– Luckily for her, she doesn’t mind at all.

“Of course.” She answers with a subtle smile on her lips. She kneels before you, and waits for you to speak. She speaks when spoken to. She steals some glances your way, watching the way you eat the food that she made for you. You usually devour the meal, but it seems that tonight you’re eating with disgust. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to remake the meal?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite, my apologies.” You tell her, and she holds her breath. She hates to scold you but it’s her duty.

“You mustn’t apologize, my queen. King Sukuna would kill me if he were to hear your words.” She responds, and you’re about to mutter another apology due to your carelessness, but you hold back. You chuckle before giving her a slight nod. “What’s on your mind?”

“What makes a woman fall pregnant? Other than sex.” You ask her, and she’s taken back by your question. Her lips form into a straight line as she takes one good look at you. 

“Why would you like to know, my queen? You’re already expecting.” She says, and you furrow your brows. Hina has been by your side to see everything that’s been going on for the past couple of months, she knows that you’re not expecting. 

“Hina… This isn’t a joke.” You tell her, frankly a bit offended that she’s said what she said. She maintains the same serious expression, and you can’t make anything of it. “I’ve still been bleeding.”

“When my mother was pregnant, she bled. Granted, we had no idea but within seven months she had a healthy baby.” She answers. “It sometimes happens.”

“Babies come early.” You point out. Hina knows a lot, but you know your own body. If you were carrying a baby, you’d feel it.

“They do. But you’re also waking up nauseous, with tender breasts and you’re extremely fatigued throughout the day. I’ve been by your side enough to know.” She explains, and you chew on the inside of your cheek. Maybe you’re just sick, it doesn’t signify that you’re pregnant. “Plus you’ve been gaining some weight, it seems like a baby to me.”

“Let’s change the topic.” You end up saying, getting annoyed with her. She’s telling you what she’s noticed, yet you’re getting irritated with the mere suggestion that you’re expecting. You don’t want to get your hopes up in the case that you aren’t.

A week after Hina tells you that you’re expecting, you begin to feel all the symptoms that she mentioned but even worse than before. You think you’re just getting into your head, giving yourself false hope. You’re in your head a lot since Sukuna has stopped visiting you at night. He no longer asks for you to join him for dinner, and you can’t remember the last time you saw his face.

“Hina…” You begin, needing the opinion of someone else. She’s told you that you’ve been gaining weight, but you need her confirmation once again. 

“Yes, my queen?” Hina responds without wasting a second. She’s flashed by you, and she doesn’t even blink twice. It’s common for her to see you bare as she helps you get ready– Though being suddenly flashed is not usual.

“Am I gaining weight?” You ask her, and she nods in response.

“You are expecting.” She reaffirms you for the umpteenth time that week. It goes in one ear and out the other for you, and you’ll ask her in ten minutes once again. Hina walks over to you and tries to cover you with your robe, “Please cover yourself before someone walks inside.”

“Who’s going to dare–” You begin, cut off by the door to your room sliding open. Uraume walks inside, about to give an announcement but they take one good look at you. You’re thinking that they’re staring at you because you’re pretty much naked, and that’s only part of the issue. A subtle smile comes to Uraume’s lips.

“I shall tell him the news.” Uraume says, and you furrow your brows. What are they saying? Are they talking about the fact that you’re practically naked? It’s not anything crazy considering Hina is your servant and helps you with everything throughout the day.

“It’s not necessary.” You tell them, but they don’t listen to you and walk out of the room. It’s not a matter that requires Sukuna so why are they telling him this? Is Hina not supposed to see you bare? “What are they going to do?”

“Tell him the news that you’re expecting.” Hina fixes your robe, and you click your tongue. 

“How would they be able to tell? I don’t even have a bump, I’ve just gained some weight.” You say, and Hina lets out a chuckle. You still refuse to acknowledge it, but she can’t blame you. There isn’t a definite way for you to know. She just feels the energy the moment she steps anywhere near you, it’s too hard to ignore.

“We’ll see what King Sukuna says.” Hina tells you after she’s done dressing you up again. She’d make you more presentable, but she has a feeling that you won’t go out so there isn’t a need for it. She wants you to be as comfortable as possible.

Your body tenses up as you hear his loud footsteps approach the room. You feel as if you were a child about to get in trouble, even if you haven’t done anything wrong– Not to your knowledge at least. Hina bows down on the floor the moment Sukuna enters the room. You don’t give him the same honor, you don’t need to.

“Come here.” Sukuna doesn’t have to speak twice before you’re stepping towards him. You hold your breath when you’re before him, growing impatient as you wait for him to do something. A wicked smile forms on his face before he gleefully says, “It’s resonating.”

“What–” You begin as his hands go to your lower abdomen.

“He has a strong flow of cursed energy.” Sukuna points out, which leaves you confused. The statement isn’t meant for you though, you notice Uraume smiling before they bow down their head. “So much… It has to be twins.”

“Twins?!” You’re still denying the fact that you’re expecting, the mere suggestion that you’re expecting more than one baby is baffling. You try to take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. “How do you even know I’m pregnant? It–”

“Do not question me, woman.” Sukuna can’t even properly yell at you, as a weird feeling consumes him… Satisfaction, it has to be. He’s finally getting what he wants. “How did I not notice?”

“You haven’t–” Uraume begins but Sukuna turns his head to glare at them. They bite their tongue as Sukuna looks back down at you.

“You have to eat properly. I’ll overlook your every meal.” Sukuna says, which is overwhelming to hear. Dinner with Sukuna was already an experience, so you aren’t necessarily excited to have him watch you eat every meal. 

“Is that necessary?” You ask him, and Hina is surprised by your bold words. Though she guesses you can say whatever you’d like when you’re expecting Sukuna’s child. “I mean so far I’m eating well and everything–”

“I will be accompanying you.” He hates when he has to repeat himself, but he guesses he has no other option. He’s not going to harm you in any way, at least not when you’re clearly pregnant. “Uraume make the announcement, and set people to watch her.”

“Watch me? Am I a child?” You question, and he can’t help but chuckle. You truly are clueless, he can’t help but be amused.

“Someone will try to harm you. You’re so pathetic that you can’t fend for yourself, so I’ll assign someone to watch you.” Sukuna answers, and just as the words leave his lips, an idea comes to mind. Would he like to have you by his side all day and every day? Absolutely not. Does he want to ensure that you’re safe and his son(s) are alright? Yes. In that way he’ll also have the pleasure to rub it in everyone’s face that he’s having an heir. “I retract my order. I’ll be watching her.”

“King Sukuna, that’s not the best decision–” Uraume begins, thinking about your well-being considering Sukuna’s life is something that you’re not ready to see. You’ve been shielded from it the past couple of months, but he’s even worse than the being that he presents himself to be.

“I’ve made my decision and that’s final. Who are you to question my order?!” He raises his voice, which is the most extreme reaction that he’d give Uraume. If they were anyone else, they would’ve taken their final breath. Sukuna rolls his eyes before speaking again, “You, on the floor, make her something to eat. And you, Uraume, get to work on my food.”

“Yes, my king.” They respond in unison before walking out of the room, leaving you alone with Sukuna.

You aren’t sure what to do once you’re alone with him. Whenever you’re alone with him you proceed to have sex, but it’s too early in the day for that to happen. You’re not sure if it’s going to happen again, not when you’re already expecting.

“You’ve proved to be useful.” Sukuna comments, extending one of his arms for you to take, so you can walk with him to the dining room. You’re hesitant to take it, but you end up doing what he wants you to since you don’t need him to raise his voice at you. Walking alongside him is an honor for anyone, and you’re the first to do it– Not because he sees you as an equal, but because you carry something that is.

“How do you know that I’m expecting?” You question, which goes unheard by him. It’s not for the same reasons as Hina since Sukuna isn’t by your side to know that your body has been changing. You recall his words from earlier, though they make little to no sense.

“What do you want?” Sukuna asks you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, looking up at him. “You must want a gift considering you’ve partially fulfilled your duty.”

“Oh…” You respond. Your gift was him helping your brother and aunt, which he already has done. But he’s offering something more, which you’ll gladly accept. You just have to think about what you want. “Can I see my family?”

“No. Anything else?” Sukuna answers, and you sigh. You shake your head, you don’t want anything else for the time being. “Jewelry is what your kind likes, no?”

“I guess.” 

“Then you’ll get jewelry.”

[artdcnaldson]

you can probably tell all this shit is from me but i'm on something tonight and i'm too pussy to sign off with an emoji. anyway, thinking about bsf!artrick arguing over who fucks better and they look at you and who are you to say no to a purely Scientific Experiment. it's for the greater good! i need them to run a train on me. holy shit. them blindfolding you and making you guess who's fucking you and who's eating you out etc.

You’re so iconic I need you to know I worked on this to make it perfect for you and I hope you enjoy!!

But SIGHHHH Getting tied down to the headboard so you can’t cheat and feel for clues! So you’re blindfolded, tied, and completely susceptible to their whims. They’re trying to ignore how pretty you look, because this is simply to settle a disagreement, okay! This has nothing to do with how bad they’ve both fantasized about fucking you since they’ve known you!

It starts with their hands. You’ve never paid much attention to them before (you’re lying), but you swear you can feel the difference between them just by the touch. Patrick touches like he’s trying to stake a claim on your skin. His hands are rough from use— you can feel the rough scrape of callouses against tender skin as he gropes at your tits. Art’s touch is tender and intentional. A little softer (you know he keeps hand cream in his gym bag so his hands don’t crack and split like Patrick’s)— his hands trace along your body delicately, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

That’s easy, but it’s harder to think when it’s their mouths on your pussy, licking and teasing and fucking devouring. You squirm against the restraints, but firm hands hold you down in one spot. Art’s hands on your hips, Patrick’s fingers teasing at your entrance. Patrick’s mouth— fuck.

Patrick eats you out like he wants to ruin you for anyone else, and he very well could. It’s wet and messy and so, so desperate, like he’s got something to prove. He pulls back and spits your arousal back onto your cunt, and you’re sure there’s a puddle beneath you that’s a mix of spit and your juices. Your back arches off the bed as he hikes one of your thighs over his shoulder, bringing you impossibly closer. The sound of his fingers thrusting into your sopping pussy are so obscene that your cheeks burn— you’ve never been treated like this by anyone else before, but you like it. You like how hot and desirable he makes you feel. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks with just the right amount of pressure, and your thighs shake from the intensity of it all. You couldn’t have tried to hold off your orgasm if you wanted to— Patrick wanted you to cum, so he made you cum, with all the expertise of someone who’s eaten pussy countless times before.

Your cunt is still twitching with aftershocks when Art moves between your thighs and licks up all of the slick spit and cum from Patrick’s endeavors. It’s almost soothing, how his tongue traces the shape of you, like he’s committing the contours of your body to memory. He rubs at your thigh with his free hand, and uses his other hand to ease two fingers into your cunt. He doesn’t fuck you with his fingers the way patrick did, he lets your walls flutter around them, squeeze him tight. He moans at the feeling, at your taste. There’s something about the way that Art nuzzles against your pussy, his nose rubbing at your clit as he tastes you, that tells you he fucking loves it. Patrick is good at eating girls out, but Art lives for it. Your hips cant against his mouth, and Patrick makes no move to hold you down, Art wouldn’t have wanted him to. Art lets you buck against his tongue, his nose, cover his face in your juices. The noises he makes are so pornographic you’d think he was the one getting head. You’re so oversensitive that Art makes you cum like it’s no work at all, with teasing licks against your clit and pressure against your g-spot. He’s practically making out with your pussy as you come down, and finally relents with one final kiss to your twitching clit.

“I can’t—“ you gasp, chest heaving after having two orgasms in such a quick succession. “I just need a break, I need… fuck, like a minute to catch my breath.”

“Yeah?” That’s Patrick’s voice, beside you. When he rubs a hand over your thigh you inhale a shaky breath. “You sure you wanna keep going?”

Then there’s Art’s hand, rubbing along your bicep and brushing hair from your face. “We can stop.”

You should feel exposed and vulnerable— tied up to your headboard with a silk scarf from your dresser, your entire body on display for your two best friends. Your entire body burns with need and desperation. You’ve wanted it for so long, and now that you’ve had it, how can you go back to the way things were before? How can you look at Patrick and Art when you know how their mouths and hands feel against your body? You can’t stop there— you can’t give up because what if they’re hit with clarity immediately after? What if you never get a chance again?

“Don’t wanna,” you say quickly. “Please don’t stop.”

If you weren’t blindfolded, you’d be able to see the pleased grins on their faces. They’ve wanted you like this for fucking months, and now there you are, all tied up, pretty, and dripping for them. Fuck tennis, this is one competition neither of them is willing to lose.

You feel them coax your thighs further apart, opening you up to them completely. You don’t have time to feel shy about how exposed you are, because one of them positions himself between your thighs, notching at your entrance.

In your attempts to identify which one it is, you rely on the few senses you can access. His breath hitches the second the head of his cock breaches your entrance, slipping into your wet warmth. A strangled gasp that you hear him struggle to silence. He’s positioned over you— you can smell sweet cologne and shampoo as he holds his body up and drives into your cunt. The brush of coarse hair against your clit, the feel of hairy thighs sandwiched between yours as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Patrick,” You pant out as soon as he’s fully sheathed inside of you. Of course it’s Patrick, staking his claim on your body first.

“Mhmm,” His breath is hot against your ear. “You’re so smart.” The condescending tone of his voice makes your stomach do a fucking somersault. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking tight. Pussy’s trying to suck me in, isn’t she? Feels that good, huh?”

Now you understand the revolving door of Patrick’s hookups, why girls put themselves through the Sisyphean cycle of pleasure and heartbreak over and over again for him. Just his words are enough to set your body on fire. All you manage in response is a pathetic nod, an involuntary arch of your back as he slowly pulls out of your cunt, then drives back in hard. The moan that spills from your lips is unlike any sound you’ve ever heard yourself make before.

“That’s it,” he coos. “Just take it, baby. You're fuckin' made for it.” And you are— at least, it really feels like it. You feel him reposition— sit back on his knees, grab you by your hips, and fuck into your cunt nice and deep. He fucks like he doesn’t care if you’re going to cum, which is clearly untrue, given how close you are already.

When your climax hits you, it’s like it’s being pulled from some hidden depth in you— ripped from the very core of your being. Your toes curl, your cunt grips him like a vise, so tight his rhythm falters. It’s dizzying, all consuming. Intense and short-lived, like most of his relationships. Still, he fucks you through overstimulation until he pulls out and cums onto your tummy.

“Go ahead, I broke her in for you.” Patrick sounds smug, and you hear the clap of skin on skin as he slaps a hand on Art’s shoulder.

It doesn’t feel much like an experiment anymore. Not when you know when Art climbs on top of you, when you feel soft kisses peppered along your jaw. That goddamn oral fixation.

He eases your thighs apart, spreads you out for him. Art’s thighs are smooth against yours. From a distance, he looks hairless, but you can feel the soft brush of fine hair again your own thighs.

A shaky gasp escapes you as his cock glides against your cunt. Slow ruts of his hips that coat his length in your arousal and judge his tip against your clit. You can feel your pussy dripping for him, that little tease of friction and pleasure.

Art’s loud. You can hear his soft little pants and moans as he humps against your cunt, until he can’t take it anymore. “‘M gonna put it in, okay?”

You nod and let him push in nice and slow. He groans and buries his head against your neck, and you’re conscious of the brush of soft curls against your skin, of his hot breath panting against you. “You feel so good, Jesus, fuck—“

He grinds his hips into you— nice and slow, so each movement sends pleasure sparking up your nerves. You can't help but wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging in to tug him closer, deeper.

You've kissed Art before— at parties during stupid games meant to play on raging hormones and pent up sexual desire. Bottles spun that land on him, smoke shotgunned into your mouth when you're both a little crossed and can't help yourselves. But it's different then, when he smashes his lips to yours, licking hungrily into your mouth. Better when he's fucking you nice and deep, his body pressed against yours.

Art Donaldson, ever the sweetheart, the gentleman that Patrick is not. His hand moves between your thighs to toy with your oversensitive clit until you mewl. If the blindfold was off, you'd be able to see the pleased smile he wore when you cried out for him.

"I've got you," he mumbles against your mouth. His forehead presses against yours, his nose nudging softly as he moves between soft kisses and open mouthed gasps of pleasure. He swallows up every sweet noise you give him, squeezes the plush of your thigh in the hand that isn’t rubbing over your clit. Your body tenses with pleasure, arching into him and he moans as you clench around him. “Fuck—“

You want the blindfold off. You want to see Art come apart, you want to know what Patrick’s doing while he watches. You want so much more than you have in that moment. And still, Art brings you to your finish like it’s easy, like every other guy hasn’t struggled to do it before him (well, besides Patrick). You’re spent, panting, oversensitive and yet you still feel a throb of need as Art jerks himself off over you.

With the blindfold on, all you can hear is the slick sounds of his hand pumping over his cock, his whiny moans, and then you feel the shock of warm ropes of cum landing on your skin, dripping down your sensitive, swollen cunt and pooling on the sheets.

It’s only then that the blindfold is pulled off, and you can see the mess they’ve made of you. Patrick’s cum dried and smeared over your stomach and Art’s abs, Art’s cum glazing your pussy. They untie your hands and you don’t even realize until then that they’re all tingly with lack of blood flow. Patrick rubs his thumbs into your palms, trying to soothe the ache as Art scrambles to find some way to clean you up. Sweet boys, even if they try to deny it.

“So which one of us—“ Patrick begins, before Art throws the towel he used to clean you up in his face. His expression twists in annoyance, but he knows better than to ask again. He’s fine keeping it a tie… for the time being, that is.

[moongirlcleo]

Mine. Only Mine.

❤︎  tags and content: smut, possessive behavior, examination room sex, spanking, orgasm control, overstimulation, dominant!zayne, f!reader, light choking ❤︎  author note: check out all my fics by searching #moongirlcleo or on AO3

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @cafekitsune  Fic: @moongirlcleo  

You decide to tease your very serious, very possessive boyfriend, Dr. Zayne, thinking you can get away with it. Spoiler alert: You absolutely cannot.

Two trips to Akso Hospital, one locked door, and one very sturdy examination table later, you learn a valuable lesson: don’t poke the beast unless you’re ready to be devoured.

The antiseptic scent of Akso Hospital clings to the air as you make your way down the familiar hallways, the warmth of the lunchbox seeping into your fingers. It’s well past noon, and you know for a fact that Dr. Li hasn’t eaten yet. He’s too disciplined, too absorbed in his work to indulge in something as trivial as a break.

That’s what you’re here for.

The nurses barely glance at you anymore—your presence in this part of the hospital has become routine. A quiet, lingering shadow in Zayne’s orbit. You don’t mind. If anything, the predictability of it is comforting.

But as you step into his office, you aren’t greeted by the usual calm, sterile quiet. Instead, Dr. Greyson is there, leaning against Zayne’s desk with a casual, easy slouch, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, if it isn’t Akso’s resident angel.”

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward. “That’s dramatic.”

“Not at all,” Greyson counters smoothly. “Bringing lunch to our esteemed Dr. Li? That’s a noble cause. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to keep him from wasting away completely.”

You chuckle, shifting the lunchbox in your hands. “Someone has to.”

Behind Greyson, Zayne is silent.

You don’t have to look at him to feel the weight of his gaze, steady and unreadable. He stands near his desk, arms crossed, the crisp white of his coat sharp against the dark material of his undershirt.

Greyson, either oblivious or enjoying himself a little too much, grins. “You know, if he doesn’t appreciate this, I’d be more than happy to—”

“That’s enough.”

Zayne doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. The words cut clean through the air, precise and sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Greyson pauses, then huffs a quiet laugh under his breath. “Relax, doc. Just messing around.” He pushes off the desk with a lazy stretch before tossing you an exaggerated wink. “Enjoy your lunch, you two.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

Silence settles in its place.

You glance at Zayne, tilting your head. “You know he was joking, right?”

No response.

His eyes are still on you, steady and dark, but there’s something unreadable in them. He doesn’t frown, doesn’t look angry, but there’s a weight in the air now—something heavy pressing against your skin, something unspoken lingering between you.

Your lips curl, slow and deliberate. Oh.

This could be fun.

You don’t look away, not right away. Instead, you take your time, setting the lunchbox down on his desk with deliberate ease, as if you don’t notice the weight of his silence.

But you do.

You feel it in the way the air shifts, in the way his posture hasn’t relaxed since Greyson left. His arms remain crossed, his jaw tight—just enough to tell you he’s thinking about it.

So, naturally, you decide to poke the bear.

“You really didn’t like that, did you?” you muse, tilting your head slightly, watching him.

Still, nothing.

You take a step closer, just enough to invade his space, just enough to press against that invisible line you know he won’t cross. Not yet. “What was it?” you continue, voice light, teasing. “The joke? The compliment? Or maybe just the idea of me having lunch with someone else?”

That earns you something. Not much, but a subtle shift—a sharp flicker of his gaze, a small twitch in his fingers before he schools himself back into stillness.

Interesting.

Your smile lingers as you lean a fraction closer, deliberately slow, just to see if he’ll move. He doesn’t. But you can feel the tension in him, a coiled wire drawn just a little too tight.

“It’s cute,” you murmur, tilting your chin up slightly. “You getting all—” your fingers ghost through the air between you, as if searching for the right word before landing on, “—quiet about it.”

His silence is different now. He’s watching you.

Not ignoring. Not unaffected.

Watching.

That alone makes something warm curl in your stomach.

You exhale a soft laugh, finally stepping back, letting the moment stretch just long enough to leave an imprint. “Come on,” you say, patting the lunchbox, acting as if you aren’t enjoying every second of this. “You should eat before your next patient.”

For a second, you almost expect him to say something. But instead, he just exhales, slow and measured, and moves past you to sit at his desk.

You swear, just before he opens the lunchbox, you catch the briefest flicker of something else in his expression—something dark, something possessive.

You settle into the chair across from his desk, chin resting in your palm as you watch him lift the lid off the lunchbox with practiced precision. He hasn’t spoken a word since Greyson left, hasn’t even given you so much as a look outside of that initial tension, but you know better.

He’s holding onto control by a thread.

So, naturally, you pull at it.

“Do you think Greyson would’ve actually taken me out to lunch if I’d said yes?” you muse, tapping your fingers idly against the desk.

His hands still for half a second before continuing, smooth and controlled. “No.”

You blink, feigning innocence. “No?”

Zayne doesn’t look at you, doesn’t take the bait. “He wouldn’t have gotten the chance.”

Ah.

Your smile spreads, slow and syrupy. “Oh? And why is that?”

Nothing.

You lean forward slightly, propping your chin up with both hands, elbows pressing into his desk like you belong there. “Come on, Doc, you’ve been awfully quiet. Cat got your tongue?”

Zayne exhales, long and slow, before placing his chopsticks down with meticulous precision. Then, finally, finally, he looks at you.

It’s unreadable at first. Just his usual impassive stare, cool and calculating. But now, you see it—the weight of it. Like he’s thinking something, something he can’t say, something dangerous curling behind those sharp, dark eyes.

It sends a delicious little shiver down your spine.

“Go.”

One word.

Flat. Measured. Controlled.

You blink, caught off guard for a split second before a laugh bubbles out of you. “What?”

His jaw tightens. “Leave.”

He isn’t angry—you don’t think he’s angry—but his voice is clipped, taut with something you can’t quite name. You stare at him, searching, but he’s already looking back down at his food, deliberately ignoring you.

And for some reason, that just makes you want to push him more.

So when you rise from your chair, stepping past his desk, you let your fingers ghost lightly over the smooth surface—just enough to brush against his arm as you pass.

Then, just as you’re next to him, just as your lips are close enough that only he can hear—

“I’m not wearing any underwear.”

It’s barely a whisper, barely even a breath, but the second the words slip past your lips, you feel the change in him.

His fingers twitch. His breath stutters just slightly before he inhales slow, controlled, like a man holding onto the last fraying edges of restraint.

You don’t stay to see what happens next.

Instead, you walk away with a pleased little smirk, slipping out of his office without another word.

But just before the door closes behind you, you swear you hear it—

A quiet, dark chuckle.

***

The walk back to your apartment is unhurried, the city moving around you in a steady hum of voices and passing hovercars. The air is crisp but pleasant, the kind of weather that makes you want to curl up in a blanket with something warm.

It’s your day off. And you intend to enjoy every second of it.

When you step inside, the familiar quiet of your apartment greets you, a welcome contrast to the sterile brightness of Akso Hospital. You toe off your shoes, stretching your arms over your head as you let out a contented sigh.

First things first—a shower.

You make your way to the bathroom, peeling off your clothes with lazy ease before stepping under the hot spray. The warmth soaks into your skin, steam curling around you as you tip your head back, letting the water wash away the morning.

No schedules. No responsibilities. Just you.

By the time you step out, skin flushed from the heat, you feel loose and unhurried. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you move through your apartment at a slow pace, tying your damp hair up as you rifle through your skincare routine. The soft scent of floral oils lingers in the air as you smooth lotion over your legs, the simple ritual soothing in a way that makes you feel the luxury of a day off.

You throw on your softest shorts, an oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder as you pad barefoot across the floor, scrolling idly through your messages.

Nothing urgent. Nothing pressing.

You exhale, settling onto the couch, pulling your legs up beneath you as you nurse a warm cup of tea.

For once, there’s no rush. No alarms. No calls pulling you away.

Just the quiet comfort of a day that belongs entirely to you.

You’re curled up on the couch, fingers lazily scrolling through your messages, when your phone buzzes with a new notification.

You glance down.

Zayne Li: Come back. You forgot something.

Your fingers hover over the screen.

Forgot something?

Your brows knit together as you scan the short message again. You were only at the hospital for a little while, and you’re sure you didn’t leave anything behind. Your bag is right next to you, your keys by the door.

Still, something about the text makes you pause.

Zayne isn’t the type to call you back over something trivial. If you’d left behind, say, a pen or a hair tie, he wouldn’t bother. If it were something important, he’d have just told you outright.

But instead, just—Come back.

You chew your lip, debating for a brief second. Then, before you can overthink it, you sigh, pushing yourself up from the couch.

You grab your coat, slipping it over your sweater as you step into your shoes, phone still warm in your grip.

Outside, the city hums on, unaware of the way your heart beats just a little faster as you make your way back to Akso Hospital.

***

The hospital is quieter in the evening, the halls less crowded, the fluorescent lights casting everything in a pale glow. You move past the nurses’ station with ease—no one stops you, no one questions why you’re back.

It’s almost unsettling how expected your presence is here.

One of the nurses glances up, barely hesitating before nodding toward Zayne’s office. “Dr. Li is waiting for you.”

Something flickers at the base of your spine.

Still, you go.

Your knuckles barely graze the door before it unlocks with a quiet click, swinging open just enough for you to step inside. The moment you do, the air changes.

The door slams shut behind you.

You whirl around just in time to hear the sharp snick of the lock sliding into place.

And then—

Zayne is on you.

Not touching. Not yet. But there, his presence pressing into the space around you, suffocating in its intensity. He’s so close you can feel the heat of him even through your sweater, can hear the steady, measured sound of his breathing.

Slow. Controlled. Barely contained.

Your back hits the door.

You don’t remember moving, don’t remember taking a single step, but you’re caged now, trapped between Zayne’s body and the cool wood behind you.

His hands are braced on either side of your head, fingers curling against the door, boxing you in.

You inhale, and his scent fills your lungs.

Clean, sharp—like antiseptic and something darker underneath. Something unmistakably him.

Slowly, so slowly, he tilts his head, studying you with dark, unreadable eyes.

“You think you’re clever,” he murmurs, voice low, velvet-smooth.

Your breath catches.

A slow, deliberate pause stretches between you. His gaze drops, dragging down the line of your throat, your lips, before flicking back up—pinning you in place.

Heat pools deep in your stomach.

“Zayne,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “What—”

“You forgot something.”

The words are a near whisper, ghosting over your skin. His fingers twitch against the door.

You swallow. “What did I forget?”

His lips curve—not a smile. Something dangerous. Something possessive.

His head dips, lips brushing just over the shell of your ear.

“Your lesson.”

Your pulse spikes.

Before you can react, before you can even think, Zayne moves—

And this time, he does touch you.

The second his hands find you, it’s over.

Zayne moves deliberately—not rushed, not frantic. He doesn’t need to be. Control has always been his strongest weapon, and right now, he’s wielding it against you with surgical precision.

His fingers skim along your jaw, barely a touch, tilting your chin up just enough to force your gaze to his. Dark, consuming, smoldering. He drinks you in like he’s already imagining what he’s going to do to you.

Heat coils low in your stomach.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, thumb dragging over your parted lips, tauntingly slow. “Did you really think you’d get away with that little stunt?”

A shiver runs down your spine, but you refuse to look away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

His lips curve, dark amusement flickering in his gaze.

“No?”

Before you can process it, his hands move—one gripping your wrist, the other bracing low on your waist as he spins you, pressing your back flush against his chest.

You gasp, fingers flying to grip his forearm as he cages you there, heat radiating off him like a second skin.

“Then let me remind you.”

His voice is right at your ear, a deep murmur that seeps into your veins, curling hot and wicked in your stomach. His grip doesn’t hurt—no, it’s something far more devastating than that.

It’s commanding.

Like he owns you.

Like he’s already made up his mind about what’s coming next.

And then, his fingers—clever, practiced—trail down your sides, skimming over the hem of your sweater.

“You’ve been running that mouth all day,” he muses, voice dark and silken. “Let’s see if you can follow instructions just as well.”

You swallow hard, heart hammering against your ribs.

“Undress.”

A single word. No hesitation. No room for argument.

Your breath stutters. He’s still behind you, still pressed against you like a second shadow, and you know—you know—he’s waiting.

So you move.

Slowly, your fingers curl into the fabric of your sweater, lifting it inch by inch. Zayne doesn’t touch you, doesn’t guide you—just watches. You feel his eyes on every new inch of exposed skin, on the slow reveal of your bare back, your shoulders, the swell of your breasts as you tug the sweater over your head and let it drop to the floor.

Your shorts follow.

By the time you’re bare, standing in nothing but the hush of the dimly lit office, your body is thrumming with anticipation.

Zayne hums in approval, a sound that sends another shiver skittering through you. His hands return—this time, trailing down your arms, ghosting over your hips, fingertips tracing the dip of your spine.

Then—his grip tightens.

And with almost no effort, he turns you, guides you back, and before you know it—

Your bare skin meets cool leather.

The examination table.

Heat floods your cheeks as realization slams into you, but Zayne doesn’t give you time to protest. He leans in, bracing a hand next to your head, his presence overwhelming, consuming.

“You wanted to tease?” he murmurs, gaze flicking over you, sharp and possessive. “Then let’s see how much teasing you can take.”

The cool leather beneath your bare skin is a sharp contrast to the heat pulsing through you, your body burning under the weight of Zayne’s gaze. He’s still standing over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other trailing idly along the inside of your thigh—so close to where you need him, but not nearly enough.

You shift, trying to press into his touch, but his grip tightens, pinning you in place.

“Stay still.” His voice is low, unyielding, each syllable sinking into your skin like a slow-moving current.

Your breath hitches.

Then—his fingers move.

Deliberate. Teasing. Cruel.

A slow drag up your thigh, just enough to make your stomach tighten, before he ghosts over your center without giving you anything of what you need. His touch is light, maddening, barely there as he traces patterns against your skin.

You bite back a whimper.

Zayne watches you with dark amusement, his lips curving slightly. “Not so bold now, are you?”

You inhale sharply, willing yourself not to react, but he knows. He sees the way your body twitches, the way your breath stutters every time he almost gives you what you want.

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me,” he murmurs, fingers trailing just where you ache for him. “How does it feel to be teased?”

A soft, broken sound escapes you before you can swallow it down.

Zayne hums, satisfied. “Not so fun when you’re the one squirming.”

Then, finally—finally—he presses his fingers against you, sliding through the slick heat he’s been tormenting.

Your body jerks.

He’s slow at first, methodical. Testing. One finger, circling, teasing—working you open, pulling another soft whimper from your lips. Then another, pressing deeper, stretching you with wicked precision.

Your hips shift without thinking, chasing the pleasure, but his other hand clamps down on your thigh, keeping you still.

“Good girls listen,” he murmurs, his tone almost mocking. “Do I need to remind you?”

You shake your head quickly, already feeling the heat building, pleasure pooling low in your stomach as he sets a slow, devastating rhythm.

You don’t know how long he keeps you like that—edging you, bringing you so close only to slow down again, dragging you right back to the brink before cruelly denying you.

It’s torture.

Your head is spinning, your body burning, sweat beading along your spine. “Zayne—”

“Not yet.” His fingers curl just right, pulling a ragged moan from your throat. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”

Tears prick your eyes, frustration twisting through the pleasure. Your fingers claw uselessly at the leather of the table, your breath coming in desperate, broken gasps.

“Please.”

He exhales slowly, like he’s savoring the word. “Please what?”

Your pride is gone. Drowned out by the raw, unbearable need consuming you. “Please—please, I need you.”

For a second, he doesn’t move.

Then—everything snaps.

Zayne pulls back so fast you barely register it before he’s hauling you up, spinning you, pressing you down against the examination table. Your hands brace against the cool leather as he steps behind you, his body flush against yours, broad and hot and unshakably firm.

“You need me?” His voice is low, right against your ear. “You think I don’t know that?”

A sharp smack lands against the curve of your ass, sending a shock of pleasure through your veins. You gasp, body jerking, but his hands are already gripping your waist, holding you there.

“You’re mine,” he growls, voice like smoldering embers. “Only mine.”

The sharp clink of his belt unfastening lingers in the air, a cruel, tantalizing sound that sends a shiver straight down your spine.

You can’t see him—not really.

But you feel him.

Standing behind you, heat radiating against your bare skin, his presence a dark, looming force that has you pressing your palms flat against the cool leather of the examination table, your breathing shallow and uneven.

Then—his hands.

Slow. Steady. Claiming.

They glide up the backs of your thighs, barely grazing the sensitive skin before spreading over the curve of your hips, gripping just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” he murmurs, voice like a slow drag of velvet and steel.

A small, involuntary whimper escapes you.

Zayne chuckles. A low, dangerous sound that sends another pulse of heat straight between your legs.

His thumbs press into your skin, kneading slightly before pulling you back against him.

And then—

You feel him.

Hard. Heavy. Pressing against your entrance, teasing, not quite giving you what you want.

Your fingers clench against the leather.

“Zayne,” you breathe, shifting your hips, trying to urge him forward.

His hands tighten—holding you still.

“Patience.”

“You were so eager to tease,” he murmurs, his fingers smoothing over the spot he just struck. “Now you don’t want to wait?”

You groan, the frustration nearly unbearable.

But before you can say anything—before you can beg—he pushes inside.

Deep.

A sharp, keening moan rips from your throat, your body stretching around him, every nerve igniting at once. The sudden, overwhelming fullness sends a wave of heat crashing through you, your body tightening, clinging to him.

Zayne curses under his breath, his fingers digging into your hips, his composure fracturing for just a moment.

Then—he moves.

His first thrust is slow, deliberate, forcing you to feel every inch of him as he drags back before snapping forward again, knocking the breath from your lungs.

The table shudders beneath you.

Your moan is wrecked, barely coherent.

But he’s not gentle.

Not now.

Now, he’s claiming you, dragging his hands up your spine, gripping your shoulders as he pulls you back into each brutal snap of his hips.

The sound of skin against skin echoes through the office, sharp and rhythmic, mingling with your desperate, gasping moans.

“Mine,” he growls, punctuating the word with a particularly deep thrust that has your toes curling, your body arching against him.

You can’t answer—you can’t—because he’s driving everything else from your mind, filling you so completely, so thoroughly, that all you can do is take it.

The examination table creaks beneath you, shifting with each forceful movement.

But Zayne doesn’t stop.

He won’t stop.

Not until you’re completely undone.

Not until this room, this space, smells like you and him and this.

Zayne fucks you like he’s trying to ruin you.

Like he needs to.

Like every second of restraint he’s ever had is snapping apart, unraveling with every sharp, punishing thrust that slams you forward against the examination table.

The leather creaks beneath you, the steady rhythm of skin meeting skin filling the room, raw and obscene. Each snap of his hips forces a choked, gasping moan from your throat, your fingers gripping the edges of the table in a desperate attempt to steady yourself—useless.

Zayne won’t let you steady yourself.

He wants you falling apart.

His grip is bruising, fingers digging deep into your hips as he pulls you back into every ruthless thrust, making you take him deeper, harder.

“Look at you,” he growls, voice thick, wrecked with pleasure. “So fucking desperate.”

You can’t answer—can’t—because the only thing spilling from your lips are helpless, shattered moans, pleasure winding so tight in your stomach it’s blinding.

Zayne leans forward, his breath searing against the back of your neck as he drags his nails down your spine.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmurs, low and taunting, punctuating each word with another devastating thrust. “You wanted to tease me all day, and now look at you—”

His hand snaps around your throat, not squeezing, just holding you there, keeping you in place as he pounds into you so deep it sends you spiraling.

“You can barely fucking breathe.”

A ragged, broken moan rips from your throat, your body clenching around him so tight he groans, his grip tightening.

“Fuck—” His voice is strained, edged with something dangerously close to losing control.

And then—

Zayne changes his pace.

It’s brutal.

Fast, relentless, his hips snapping forward in short, perfectly angled thrusts that send shocks of white-hot pleasure surging through your veins, pushing you closer, dragging you higher, forcing you to the very edge—

“Zayne—” you gasp, barely able to form words.

He knows.

He feels the way you’re trembling, tightening around him, breaking beneath him.

His hand leaves your throat, his arm wrapping around your waist instead, lifting you slightly as he slams into you, each movement sharp and devastatingly deep.

“Come for me,” he growls, voice dark, commanding.

That’s all it takes.

Pleasure crashes through you, sharp and consuming, stealing every ounce of air from your lungs. Your body convulses, tightening around him so hard you swear you see stars, your moan ripping through the room as you fall apart.

Zayne curses, his pace stuttering as he buries himself to the hilt, his grip bruising as he jerks forward one last time, his groan vibrating against your skin as he spills inside you.

The air is thick, humid, filled with the scent of sweat and sex, the room absolutely wrecked with what just happened.

Zayne doesn’t let you go right away.

He stays pressed against you, his hand splayed over your stomach, keeping you anchored as you both gasp for breath, bodies trembling from the force of it.

Then, after a long, breathless moment—

His lips press softly to the back of your shoulder.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, voice rough, final.

Like a promise.

Like a warning.

The weight of him lingers against your back, his breath still warm against your shoulder, both of you wrecked in the aftermath of what just happened.

Your body feels boneless, pleasure still pulsing in slow, lingering waves through your limbs. Every inch of you is oversensitive, raw in the best possible way.

Zayne stays close.

His fingers trace slow, idle patterns against your skin, smoothing over the marks he left—the bruises at your hips, the faint scratches along your thighs. His touch is light, careful, like he’s grounding you.

It’s such a stark contrast from just moments ago that it makes something warm bloom in your chest.

Still pressed against you, his lips brush the back of your neck, barely a whisper of contact. “Are you okay?”

Your breath is still uneven, but you manage a soft, satisfied hum. “Mmhm.”

He huffs a quiet chuckle, shifting slightly so he’s not completely crushing you against the examination table.

For a few blissful seconds, there’s nothing but the steady sound of your breathing, the weight of his hands still on you, grounding, possessive.

Then—

A sharp knock at the door.

You both freeze.

Zayne lifts his head, the tension snapping back into his body as a voice calls from the other side—

“Dr. Li?” It’s one of the nurses. “Is everything… okay in there?” A pause. Then, hesitantly, “…We heard screaming.”

Oh. Oh.

Your face burns.

Zayne exhales slowly, as if already regretting everything that led up to this moment. Then, with a reluctant, measured calm, he pulls back—finally slipping out of you, leaving you unbearably empty in more ways than one.

You barely have time to move before he’s already tucking himself back into his slacks, smoothing his shirt down, his expression cool, composed—like he didn’t just fuck you senseless against a damn hospital examination table.

You, on the other hand? A disaster.

Your legs shake as you push yourself upright, skin flushed, bite-marked, still buzzing from everything he just did to you.

Zayne notices.

His gaze flicks over you, eyes darkening again for just a second before he exhales sharply, reaching for a nearby drawer. Without a word, he pulls out a clean white lab coat and drapes it over your shoulders, letting it fall down to cover the mess of your very naked body.

The knock comes again.

“Dr. Li?”

Zayne finally answers, voice infuriatingly calm. “Everything is fine.”

A long pause.

Then, a slow, unconvinced “…Alright.” Footsteps retreat down the hall.

Silence.

Then—Zayne looks at you.

And the corner of his lips twitches.

“Oh, shut up,” you mutter, flustered beyond belief, shoving at his chest as you wrap the coat tighter around you.

His chuckle is low, smug, and utterly satisfied.

“Next time,” he murmurs, voice dipping into something darker, promising, “you should remember to keep quiet.”

The silence lingers for a moment after the nurse walks away, leaving the two of you still caught in the warm haze of what just happened.

You’re spent, your body buzzing, muscles loose and trembling in the aftermath. The lab coat around your shoulders feels too big, the scent of antiseptic barely masking the deeper, richer scent of him clinging to the fabric.

Zayne is still standing close, his hands adjusting the coat to make sure it fully covers you. His touch is softer now, absent of the possessive grip that had once marked your skin. His fingers ghost down your arms, then settle at your waist, grounding you.

A deep exhale leaves his lips.

“You’re okay?” he asks again, voice lower this time. Not demanding. Not teasing. Just… checking.

The tenderness in it makes something in your chest ache.

You nod, letting yourself lean into him, your forehead pressing against his chest. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out quieter than you expect—hoarse from earlier, but still warm. “You didn’t actually break me, surprisingly.”

Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, his fingers tightening on your waist just slightly before smoothing over your skin. “That was never the goal.” He shifts, pressing the softest kiss to the crown of your head. “But I can make sure you don’t move for a few days next time, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You swat at his arm, making him chuckle.

His hands slide up, moving to cradle your face, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look at him. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, and his expression shifts—still dark, still intense, but something gentler there, too.

Something devoted.

“You are mine,” he murmurs, like it’s not a question, not up for debate. “You know that, don’t you?”

A slow warmth spreads through your chest. You meet his gaze, a lazy, satisfied smile curling at your lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I know.”

His lips press to yours—not demanding this time, not desperate. Just soft. A slow, lingering kiss that makes your stomach flutter, different from everything that came before it.

When he pulls back, he exhales, like he’s still trying to steady himself. “Come on,” he murmurs, tugging you toward the small private bathroom in his office. “Let’s clean you up.”

You sigh dramatically, letting him lead you, warmth thrumming in your veins. “Wow. You break me over an examination table and I get aftercare? Lucky me.”

Zayne smirks. “You are lucky.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue.

Because, honestly?

You are.

[salemrph]

Careful, kitten

Summary: Sylus is tense, quiet, and clearly off his game and you can’t help but poke at him to figure out why.

Character: Sylus & MC/You

Genre: unresolved romantic-sexual tension, pre-relationship, teasing

Word count: 3.5k | Reading Time: 14 min | AO3

A/N: Had this for a while in the draft, I needed to see Sylus flustered somehow, without getting off character. Story is base on the moment with the Lipstick and the helmet, but not the moment itself. Picture source

You crouch down, placing a small dish of food near a group of stray cats. It has almost become a ritual to go feed the cats in the park. Sylus picks you up on his bike on those days in the morning, sometimes you still notice the tiredness and the dark circles under his eyes from not having slept enough. Or not having gone to bed at all. You have told him many times that you don't have to see each other so early, that you want him to sleep a few hours at least. But the gentleman insists that he doesn't want to keep you waiting and prefers it this way. He's just as stubborn as you sometimes are. Sylus is standing behind you, sunglasses on. It's a gorgeous day this morning, it's getting warmer. You enjoy the rays of the sun that caress your skin. 

The usual trio of cats approached, the cautious steps quickly turning into eager little trots as the scents of food reached them. You smile when you see them eating.

“Not so fast… you will choke, Marshmallow”. You are very immersed in the scene of the three cats eating with fervor.

His lips parted slightly before he closed them again, exhaling through his nose. “You’ve started naming them?”

“Of course I have”. You gestured lazily at the largest of the three. A round, fluffy white cat with a soft gray patch over one ear, currently inhaling its food like it hadn’t eaten in days. “That’s Marshmallow. He eats like he’s in a competition. Every time.” 

Then pointed to the second one, a lean, all-black cat with striking green eyes, the one who always lingered just a bit further back, observing before approaching. “That one’s Phantom. He’s a little dramatic.”

You grinned in satisfaction before finally gesturing to the last one. A scrappy little tabby with a torn ear, the smallest of the three but easily the most energetic. “And that’s Bandit. Tries to steal everyone else’s food and somehow still stays tiny.”

Then, with a smirk, he said “Mephisto will get jealous of all these new friends you're making.” 

You scoffed, nudging his arm lightly. “Oh, please. Mephisto knows he’s irreplaceable. This is just my little morning gang.”

Sylus hummed, gaze flicking to the trio of cats devouring their meal. He coursed down, eyes flickering back to you. The way you sat comfortably on the pavement, fingers gently brushing against one of the cats, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, it was an oddly soft image. More cats approved, Sylus pulls out more small food out of a bag. As soon as he popped the lid, the cats perked up, their ears twitching at the familiar sound. You watch him with an amused smile. 

“It still surprises me, for someone who acts all untouchable, you sure are soft on them.” 

Sylus huff, not looking up “They’re be a nuisance if they were starving and desperate.” 

“Uh-huh” You don't say anything else. Marshmallow gets closer to him. Sylus just scratched him behind the ear, the cat leaned into this touch, purring loud enough. A small chuckle escaped you. 

“Your hands are really beautiful, you know.”

Sylus froze. His fingers stopped mid-motion, his eyes moved to you. You weren't even looking at him, when you said that. You were still watching the cats, head tilted slightly, your expression thoughtful “Long fingers, clean nails, nice veins… a bit rough. I bet people would pay just to see them in those hand model ads.” 

Sylus blinked. He flexed his fingers instinctively, as if trying to understand what you were seeing. They were just hands, functional, efficients, and dangerous. These hands had killed many times. Ended lives without hesitation or remorse. The blood that had once coated them wasn't something that could ever truly be washed away. And yet, here you are, calling them beautiful. 

He scoffed, still trying to follow you. “Don’t say weird things first thing in the morning.” 

You just hummed, Sylus exhaled sharply, looking away. He massages his eyes, slightly lifting his sunglasses. He wasn't a morning person. Never had been. And this one was especially hard. You’ve started to blurt out things like that latly, without a second thought, throwing him off in ways he wasn’t prepared. Normally, he’d have some sharp remark, a smirk, a teasing jab to keep the balance from tipping too far. But today? No chance. He hadn't slept much. With that bit of sleep he had gotten was plagued by a dream so vivid, so tangible, that waking up had felt like a cruel joke. You were tangled in his sheets. Fingers gripping his shoulder. Lips parting in breathless whispers saying his name… 

So vivid that when he woke up, the first thing he had done was grip the sheets in frustration, jaw tight, body thrumming with leftover heat that had nowhere to go. Even if he had taken the time to deal with his painful erection that very morning, it wasn't enough. Not after a dream like that. It was getting difficult.

Difficult to sit next to you without his mind wandering. Harder to keep his gaze from lingering on the curve of your neck, the way your lips parted slightly when you focused too hard. Harder to pretend like he wasn’t aching every time you said something dangerous without even realizing it. It wasn’t fair. Today, he was tired. His patience was worn too thin, his self-control stretched to its absolute limit.

“You okay? You look kind of out of it” 

“Didn’t sleep much” 

“Nightmares?” you frowned slightly.

Sylus snorted, shaking his head. “Not exactly” Far from it. If it had been nightmares, that would have been easier. This was needed. It was hunger, deep and aching, wrapped around him like a slow-burning fire that refused to go out.

“You sure? You seem…”

“I’m fine.” He cut in too quickly, voice rougher than intended.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. Clearly, you aren't buying it. But you didn’t push but you didn't drop it entirely either. Instead, you turned back to the cats, scratching Phantom under the chin as the sleek black cat purred in contentment. 

His mind was still stuck on your voice, breathy and needy from his dream, whispering his name in ways you never had in reality.

“Well, whatever kept you up, it must’ve been pretty intense.” His brain was still rebooting when you smirked lightly. “Was it a mission thing? Or something else?”

You rested your chin on your hand, watching him like you were solving a puzzle. “Wait… don’t tell me you got into a fight with Mephisto again.” Sylus blinked. You nodded to yourself, looking way too serious now. “It makes sense. The broody look, the weird tension, the fact that you’re avoiding eye contact. Did you two have a jealousy spat over the cats?”

“You think this is about the cats? What's wrong with your head?” Sylus shakes his head then he runs a hand down his face, his fingers pressing against his temples. He needed this conversation to end. Immediately. “We are leaving. I need a coffee.” 

Still sitting on the pavement, you just stared at him, blinking in confusion. "Okay…? You could’ve just said that instead of having a mini crisis."

Sylus didn’t respond. He was already walking away, jaw tight, hands shoved into his pockets. 

You frowned slightly before glancing down at the cats. "What’s his deal?" Phantom, as if in solidarity, flicked his tail and turned his head away with an exaggerated huff. You chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, I don’t get him either.”

Today, he’s weirdly quiet.

He keeps rubbing his fingers over his temple like he’s trying to will away whatever is bothering him. He runs a hand through his hair too often, exhales too heavily. You tilt your head, watching him, amusement bubbling in your chest. Oh. Oh, this could be fun. Maybe if you push him a little, just a little, you’ll figure out what’s wrong. What could possibly go wrong?

The engine growls beneath you as Sylus kicks the bike into motion, but you can feel the hesitation in his movements, the slight rigidity that wasn’t there before. Sylus inhales sharply, fingers gripping the handlebars tighter.

"Hold on" he mutters, voice tight. You grin. You press yourself closer than usual on the back of his motorcycle, arms wrapped snugly around his waist. Normally, you keep a respectable grip, not too loose, not too tight. But, you let your fingers drift just a bit lower, brushing the firm muscle at his waist. You don’t miss the way his entire body tenses beneath you. Oh… Interesting. You’re sure he curses under his breath. 

By the time he pulls up to your destination, you can tell he’s barely holding himself together. The moment the bike comes to a stop, he mutters a firm “Get off.”

You blink innocently. Sylus twists around to look at you, and he’s struggling. His red eyes are dark, sharp, his jaw tight like he’s fighting something. And it’s glorious.

“Off. Now.”

You huff playfully, but slide off the bike, stretching as if nothing happened. Sylus stays seated for a moment longer, like he needs to breathe. This is too good.

At first, you thought maybe he was just tired, maybe a little irritated about something mission-related. But now? Now, you’re starting to suspect it’s something else entirely.

Because every little touch, every offhand comment, every time you press even slightly into his space, he reacts. Not in a big way, no, he’s too good at keeping himself composed for that. But you see it. The flicker in his eyes. It’s like he’s… sensitive. And then it hits you. 

Oh. Ohhh. Maybe he just… 

…hasn’t gotten fucked in a while. Sylus is an attractive man who could have anyone relieve his stress. You've read in some articles that men with so much power often forget to relax. You almost laugh at the thought. Is that what’s wrong with him? Is that why he’s all tense and restless? Well. You’re not cruel. But you are curious. Which is why you decide to push. You wait until you're sitting across from him at a café, sipping on coffee, watching him struggle to act normal. His usual confidence is still there, but it’s fragile, like it could crack at any second.

You smirk. "You know, Sylus…" you start, propping your chin in your hand, voice slow and thoughtful.

He lifts a brow, already looking suspicious. "What?"

Your smirk widens. "I read something interesting earlier."

Sylus exhales, dragging his fingers over the rim of his cup, gaze flicking to you warily. "Should I be worried?"

You shrug, swirling your drink absentmindedly. "Apparently, if someone goes too long without… a release…." you pause just long enough to see his fingers tighten slightly "...their body starts getting all restless. Irritable. Sensitive."

His eyebrow twitches. Sylus lifts his cup to his lips. You continue, your voice taking on a casual, almost curious lilt. “Have you… released yourself lately?”

And then he chokes on his coffee. You blink, watching in fascination as he coughs into his fist, setting the cup down too aggressively. He tilts his head slightly down, running a hand over his mouth, exhaling sharply like he’s trying to stay alive.

You purse your lips. "Wow. That was dramatic."

Sylus glares at you, voice rougher than usual. "What kind of question is that?"

You lift your shoulders in an innocent shrug. “It just made me think. Maybe that’s why you’ve been all weird today. Maybe you just need to, you know…” You gesture vaguely with your fingers. “Take care of…”

Before you can finish, Sylus snatches the small bun from your plate and shoves it into your mouth, effectively silencing you. Your eyes widen in pure betrayal as you glare up at him, muffled by the mouthful of bread.

"Kitten…" he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he’s suffering some great burden. "You know very well that I adore you, but do me a favor and keep those ideas to yourself."

You chew slowly, staring at him, piecing things together. His grip on his cup, his stiff posture, the way his gaze seem desperately focused on anywhere but you. He’s embarrassed. Flustered.

You swallow the bite of bread, smirking as you tilt your head. "You’re blushing." You lean in, resting your chin in your hand. "You’re really telling me you’ve never gotten like that?"

Sylus exhales sharply, shifting in his seat. "Sweetie…" he said, warning.

"Come on," you press, voice dipping just a little, teasing. "You’re all moody, tense, acting like you haven’t had a moment to yourself in forever."

Sylus suddenly leans forward, his face mere inches from yours. You freeze. The café noise around you fades as his eyes flicker with something you hadn't seen.

"Kitten," he murmurs, low and smooth, "do you really want to know the answer to that question?"

You blink. Your heart does an unexpected little flip. …Wait. Did you just? Did you accidentally walk into his trap? Your throat bobs. Sylus’ smirk curls back into natural place. He sees it, sees the moment the teasing turns back on you. And that’s when he leans back, taking a slow sip of his coffee like nothing happened.

"Eat up."

You stay silent, but your mind is racing. He thinks he won. He thinks he got the last word. But no, oh no, you’re not letting this go. You know you’re right. You just need to make him admit it. Still, you force yourself to drop the subject for now, watching as he takes another casual sip of his coffee, like he didn’t just send your thoughts spiraling with that stupid smirk.

You spend the rest of the day together, running errands, taking the long way back through the city. Sylus, despite his usual sharp awareness, seems tired. It’s the kind of exhaustion he hates showing, but even he can’t hide it completely.

By the time you both make it back to your place, the sun has dipped lower in the sky, casting long golden streaks across the floor. You unlock the door, stepping inside as Sylus leans against the frame, rubbing again his tired eyes. 

You glance over at him. "You should take a nap."

“I'm fine, I can go home.”

You gesture toward the couch. "Nap here. You can leave after." Sylus stares at you for a moment. Then, in a move that genuinely surprises you, he actually sighs in defeat. He shrugs off his coat, tossing it over the armrest before sinking onto the couch. You make space, removing some plushies and pulling out a blanket. You move away to get some water when a strong hand suddenly grabs your wrist. 

Your voice hitches. "Sy-!?" pulling you down onto the couch, straight into him. Your back hits solid warmth, his body firm beneath yours, and for a brief moment, you forget how to breathe. His head drops forward, resting against your back. A slow, steady breath fans against your shoulder. Your carefully crafted schemes? Gone. Vanished. Replaced by the very real, very warm reality of Sylus beneath you, his breath slow and steady, his body solid and impossibly close.

"C-Can you sleep like this?"

Sylus doesn’t answer. Instead, he just lets out a low growl, shifting slightly as if trying to get comfortable. You swear you feel the vibration of it through your whole body. You shift slightly, trying to regain some sense of control. "Sylus?"

Again, no verbal response. Just another slow breath, another barely-there rumble of a sound. His arms tighten just a little more around your waist. You swear he’s doing this on purpose. You stay completely still, your mind racing, desperately trying to figure out your next move. But then Sylus nuzzles slightly against your back, and every single thought leaves your brain. Oh, this bastard.

You huff, twisting slightly to get a look at his face. "Hey, are you actually asleep or just pretending so you can mess with me?"

Nothing. Just the slow rise and fall of his chest, the completely at ease expression on his face, his lips slightly parted, his head still resting against your shoulder blade.

…Okay. Maybe he actually is asleep. That was quick. He must be really at the end of his strength. You bite your lip, debating your options. You could move, try to wiggle out of his grasp, but that would mean more contact, and you’re not sure if you can break free that easily. Or you could be evil. Your lips curl slightly.

You shift again, this time, intentionally. A slow, careful movement, rolling your hips just slightly in his lap, like you’re innocently adjusting your position. The reaction is instantaneous. Sylus lets out a low, sharp inhale, his grip tightening just a fraction before his entire body freezes. For a moment, there’s silence.

So, you do it again. Another small roll of your hips, your weight pressing slightly into his lap. Still nothing. You try it a few more times and then you feel it. Something hard presses against your butt, unmistakable even through layers of fabric. Your breath catches. Your entire body locks up in realization, the warmth rushing up your spine now burning at your face. Oh. Oh, shit.

You freeze completely, pulse hammering, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. The firm press of Sylus' thighs beneath you, the heat of him against your back, the fact that you started something you weren’t sure would lead. You just wanted to tease him and now he is hard under you. 

“Kitten...” Your heartbeat slams against your ribs. His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Stay still.”

You bite your lip, waiting, expecting him to react, to throw some cocky remark your way but he doesn’t. Instead, he stays completely still like he’s fighting something, like he’s trying to force this moment back under control. You’re not going to let him. Slowly you shift your hips again. Sylus exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching where they rest against your waist.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly. "Are you going to tell me why you’re so tense?" You push further. "I mean, you’ve been acting weird all day." You let your voice dip just slightly, playing into the innocence of it. "Wouldn’t have anything to do with what we talked about this morning, would it?"

Sylus finally speaks with a dangerous rasp against your ear.

You want to burn this into your memory. Your heart is thudding, loud in your ears. You swallow, barely trusting your voice as you whisper.

"You should stop."

A shiver actually runs down your spine because of that tone. That is not his usual teasing. Slowly, cautiously, you turn your head to look at him, really look at him. And that’s when you see it. Sylus’ face is flushed. His jaw is tight, his lips slightly parted like he’s struggling to breathe evenly. His hair is slightly messy, strands fallen across his flushed forehead.

His eyes flick to your lips… then lower, linger on your thighs, before dragging back up to meet yours. That paralyzes you because Sylus never looks like this. Your mouth goes dry. You’ve seen Sylus in many states: bored, smug, amused, deadly. But this? This is something else entirely. You’ve imagined it, sure. On lonely nights, in quiet fantasies, in those dangerous thoughts you don’t usually entertain for long. And it’s such an erotic image that the idea of getting off his lap now feels like a death sentence. Like stepping away from something you might never get the chance to see again.

“…Why?”

His eyes darken instantly. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand comes to rest on your thigh. Is light but the heat of it burns through the fabric.

“Because if you keep going…” he murmurs, but stops himself. A mocking smile appears on his lips again. “Why do you want to know so badly?” His thumb brushes the inside of your thigh, maddeningly light. “Is it curiosity?” he continues. “Is it the power? Or…” his eyes flicker to your lips again, “do you just like imagining it?”

Your heart stutters. He leans in, just enough that you feel the heat of his breath ghost over your cheek, his voice a whisper meant for no one but you.

“Be honest, kitten. Is it me you’re thinking about… when you’re restless?”

Your pulse trips.

“You ask that like you want it to be you.” You tilt your head, eyes dancing with mock thoughtfulness. “I mean, it could be. But there are so many options. It’d be unfair to name just one. Why so curious?” you murmur. “Feeling a little... worked up yourself?” You move a bit more on his lap. He is still hard, you bit your lip. 

“If I said yes,” he murmurs, voice low and velvety, “would that change anything?”

Your lips twitch with a teasing smile. “Maybe,” you say, leaning in just enough to make it sting. “Or maybe I’d just watch.”

“Careful, kitten. If you watch too long… you might beg to join.”

[sideysvault]

୨ৎ Favorite Positions ୨ৎ

Cregan Stark x wife!reader ₊ requested ₊

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱ • ⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

wc. 0.8k

tags. [nsfw] smut, minors DNI, established relationship, p in v, creampie, unprotected, cum play, and Cregan has slight breeding kink.

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Don't get me wrong, you love when your husband takes control. But some days, those where you feel the need to experience some sense of agency, some vague recollection of power? Well, Cregan was more than eager to give that to you. As soon as he entered your shared chamber, you would throw yourself at him, kissing him with a sense of urgent necessity, one that needed to be covered right that second, and, of course, you would order him to strip naked. You'd never get tired of the way dim lights danced upon his broad shoulders, how that dent on his bicep looked when he reached over to grab you by the neck. What a handsome, what a pretty view he was. Despite his confidence, he occasionally struggled to maintain eye contact while you straddle him, sitting on his lap and using his body for your pleasure. Cregan would always keep up, standing compliant and ready for however long you felt like fucking him that night. Such a strong, powerful man. And you had him all by yourself, whimpering like a virgin at the sight of your tits bouncing on his face. It always reminded Cregan how lovely it would be to see them swelling as you carry his child.  Riding up and down, in circles, adjusting the pace just enough to torture him with the possibility of coming. Sometimes, though, Cregan would get painfully impatient and grab your ass while you bounced on his length to control your movements. Tired of the slow lap dance, he wanted to penetrate you harder, and as deep as he could.

Despite what you may initially think, Cregan Stark is a needful man. He is often invaded by fits of desperation. It really didn't come from the impulse of showing you how grateful he was to be your husband, but a simpler, more primal desire to devour you. Cregan gets on his knees, while you stand upright, draping one of your legs around your husband's shoulders—and then, it all begins. Clit sucking, rubbing, penetrating with his fingers, Cregan would abuse your cunt for what felt like hours, not letting you cum until he was satisfied. On some occasions, he would even restrain your hands above your head, leaving you utterly incapable of moving or touching anything around you. He knew how much you loved being eaten out, but, of course, seeing you struggle with the ropes didn't harm either. Watching how hard you try not to move against his face to try to relieve your core was the true gift.

Whenever Cregan had a rough day and the need to let his frustrations out, he would grab you and throw you in the bed, with your ass towards him, as he entered your folds while towering over you. He loved to enjoy the view of his penis thrusting inside his partner, watching you squirm with each shove, hearing the wet sounds your cunt made while trying to make room for him. Cregan would also wrap his hands around his wife's naked back for extra support. 

Another one of Cregan’s favorite positions is to put his wife’s legs on his shoulders. He loved to see you laying on her back, penetrating her while he felt her calves on his shoulders, watching your tits and tummy bounce with the recoil of the thrust, seeing her pretty face moan and contract for him and him only. He could always notice when his wife was getting close to orgasm. Not only that, but he would patiently wait, listening for her breath to become short and shallow. Observing her deliciously flushed skin and slightly perked nipples were all beautiful indicators. 

But above all else? Missionary. He is an old-fashioned guy. Romantic to his core. Devoted. And it never gets boring. As you are face to face, you can maintain eye contact with him throughout intercourse. Dropping kisses on his neck and check, leaving marks on his back. It was comfortable, comfortable, almost relaxing. Plus, some Maestres say that missionary is the easiest way to conceive a child. He has his doubts, but frankly? All he wants is to see the face you make at the exact moment he fills your cunt with his warm cum. He loves to see the relief in your eyes when you realize that you have been branded, that you are his, that a part of him is held tightly to your core. Cregan needs to hold back the need to lick your pussy clean, to squeeze your folds and purify them from his seed, because the idea of starting a family with you is stronger than any of those carnal desires. On some nights, however, when you are lying on your stomach, resting after a long night, and he catches a glimpse of his cum dripping out of your pussy, he cannot help himself. Before Cregan knows it, he is already sucking his cum out of you, and your hand is rushing to the back of his head to push him further into your cunt. Your moans are heard throughout the room, and he smiles against your pussy, happy to please. 

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Notes. Thank you so much for requesting! (I suck at writing smut and it's not proofread but wtv)

Anyway, the missionary myth thing is totally false, but these were medieval times, ok?. Take care! — Sidey xo

[jjsloverre]

bed- j.m

bsf!jj x sweetheart!reader

in which… jj takes sweethearts virginity and finally gives her the love nobody else could— or she wouldn’t allow anyone else to give her.

warnings: cursing, smut, p in v (wrap it up) oral (female!receiving) praise kink, size kink, aftercare all that stuff!

________________________________________

you didn’t know how you two got to this conversation. jj was talking about his horrible sex life. “this shit sucks baby, i just want some good pussy!” he complained he secretly wish he’d have yours and yours only. but he knew it would only be a fantasy.

“maybe you should fuck every girl you lay your eyes on jj. anyway this dude wanted to have sex with me and he was being a total creep about it, like why does everyone wanna take a girls virginity and abandon them? some crazy shit i tell you!”

“y’know i wouldn’t abandon you?” jj said softly. you scoffed, knowing your best friend was a total fuck boy and you didn’t believe him one bit. “you know i love you? i love you tons but you are the type of boy to hit and dip and you know it.”

“you’re different mama, i promise that..” he massaged your thighs, something that wasn’t out of the ordinary, jj was a touchy guy, nobody could deny that. “i’d cater to you. you’re not some fuck toy to me.” you looked at him weirdly. “so every other girl is?”

he laughed, realizing you were right. he loved when you put him in his place, it always secretly turned him on. “no baby, that’s just a one night stand.”

“exactly what i mean jj! no man is about to make me a one night stand and potentially a baby mama!”

“fair enough sweetheart, cmon lemme show you how much i’d cater to you.” you shake your head no. “i don’t believe you, and you’re not gonna do me like you do all those other girls!”

“let’s make a deal.”

“what’s the deal?” you ask.

“i make love to you— not fuck you, love making and i make you feel things you’ve never felt before. if i prove you wrong, you make me my favorite meal.”

“and if you prove me wrong?” he held his hand out. “i’ll come over everyday and do your chores. sound like a deal?”

“fine, deal.”

“fuck yeah! alright lay down!”

“you’re getting too excited maybank, i am not the first girl you’ve done this with. and you better not have any diseases!”

“i wear a condom princess, i don’t catch anything or get anybody pregnant. do you want me to grab a condom from john b’s house real quick? i’ll be fast so you don’t have to wait and shit—“ you quickly cut him off so he could shut up.

“hush jj and let’s just— get this over with..” he quickly gets on top of you, kissing your neck teasingly. “don’t be nervous, it’s just me, just like it’s always been…” he speaks as he takes your clothes off, his eyes focused on your glistening pussy.

“are you nervous cause you’re fuckin’ drippin for me?” he slips one finger in, feeling your walls clench around his finger. “fuck you’re tight.. my dick is gonna love this…”

you whimper at the feeling, jj quickly pulls his fingers out when he realizes your tears. “baby it’s okay, did that hurt?” you shook your head no and wipe your tears. “it felt good jayj, it was just.. a lot at first.” he nodded. “alright so, first i’m just gonna eat your pussy how does that sound? you’ve gotten eaten out before right?” you smile. “by you jj.”

he couldn’t believe he almost forgot, you guys did exchange giving head a few months ago for the first time experience. “yeah so, it’ll be good i promise. ok! lay down, relax, and i’ll enjoy my snack!”

you smile at his enthusiasm, the boy that was about to be tongue deep inside you; you’re best friend was rhyming about eating your pussy. while you were thinking about something completely different you feel jjs tongue go straight to your clit. licking and sucking— devouring you like you were his last meal.

“i’ve always wanted to do this again, fuck you with my tongue in you’re bed, watching you squirm.. fuck you’re so sexy..” he went tongue deep inside you, licking inside you until you were at your peak. you quickly came undone.

“jeez jj, you don’t play do you?” you wipe some of his face with a towel, while he licks the rest of your essence up. “you taste phenomenal baby, couldn’t get enough.”he pulls his shorts down, revealing his long thick cock, precum leaking from the tip. “you see what you do to me beautiful?”

you nod. “jj that’s too big- that’s not gonna fit inside me! there’s no way that’s going inside me!” he let you babble on until you stopped. “it’ll fit princess, cmon lemme show you.” you shook your head no immediately.

“jj i’m serious! that shits gonna hurt!” he shook his head right back. “it’ll sting a lil bit but it’ll feel good scouts honor!”

“you’re so unserious jj.” he spreads your legs and pushes his tip inside of you, you didn’t even notice since you were talking so much. you realized he had you talk so you wouldn’t feel the pain, and he was already balls deep inside you. “h-how did you do that?”

“you’re wet princess, so it just slipped in… feel good? let me know when you’re ready for me to move.” you nod, waiting a few minutes before you tapped his abs. “yes ma’am?” he asks. “w-want you to move now..” he nods, moving slowly but extremely deep. “fuck you’re tight.. not gonna last long in this pussy, fuckkkk princess!”

he starts to speed up, hearing the wet slapping noises turned him on even more, he leaned down to kiss your beautiful lips. “you’re so beautiful while you’re getting fucked, you’re beautiful all the time but like this? shitttt, imagine how beautiful youd be cumming from my dick.” he rubs right circles on your clit until the band in your stomach snaps.

“jj i’m gonna cum!” he looks down at your clit, then your stomach. and he sees a visible bulge. “fuck baby, you feel that? that’s all me, all me deep inside your pussy… fuck look how big that bulge is!”

the stomach bulge was both of your breaking points, you came hard on his dick and jj’s dick buried to the hilt and spurted all his cum deep inside you. “fuck baby.. you was grippin me so tight..”

you nod, feeling utterly fucked out “i guess i owe you food then?” he chuckled. “only if you wanna make me some food, you don’t gotta do nothin for me. i’d love some pasta though, when you’re legs feel better.” he smirked.

“okay, don’t we have to pee or something? i don’t want anything happening to me jj!” he got up, putting you on his shoulders. i know princess, we’re gonna go pee now.”

“how about we order some food instead? i’m too tired to cook.” he sets you down on the toilet for you to pee. “sure. as long as i still get my pasta sometime this week.”

________________________________________

a/n: this is pretty long but hey! hope u like it!

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @sophand4n4 @aaliyahsturniolo @ethanthequeefqueen

more bsf!jj x sweetheart!reader here

[losers-clvb]

famine // sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x best friend!female!reader

summary: you and the winchester boys went to go look into a case on a couple mysteriously eating themselves to death. after discovering this is brought on by one of the four horsemen, famine, coming into town, dean and sam create a plan. the only problem: you've been whimpering at the sound of sam's voice since that morning.

content: basically just porn with small amount of plot, slightly dom!sam (not insanely so, just a few words), praise, reader begs sam to fuck her, fingering, unprotected piv penetration, sex pollen adjacent storyline, dubcon (due to said "sex pollen"), dean and castiel walk in on the pair after they're finished, no use of y/n

word count: 3k

note: this is based on season 5, episode 14 "my bloody valentine". i wrote this all in a day, so unedited, but i watched that episode and the idea just came to me. this was my first time writing smut so be kind if it isn't the best. second part of "mayor's banquet" coming out soon, which also has smut, if you are into that. enjoy!

masterlist

----

It started slowly. At first it was discomfort, one that left you wiggling in your jeans. You felt hot and no amount of air conditioning was helping. You moved in your seat as Dean drove through the small time. The three of you had arrived that morning, opting to eat at the local diner before investigating what was going on. A couple had eaten each other to death the night before which threw up alarm bells for the hunters. You were Sam’s best friend, a relationship that had begun in college. It wasn’t until you had an encounter with a werewolf four months after Sam left that you decided to join the boys on their hunts.

“You gotta take a piss or something?” Dean asked after he had noticed you were moving around in the backseat. You blushed when you met his eyes in the mirror.

“Leave her alone, Dean.” Sam smacked his brother playfully. You were grateful for this, as you always were for Sam. Coincidentally after he spoke, the need to move increased. You squeezed your eyes shut and breathed deeply.

You were contemplating asking Dean to pull over when the car stopped. You opened your eyes to find the motel you three would be staying in that night. Dean was already opening the door to the room, but Sam stood in front of your open door with his hand held out, ever the gentleman. You grasped his hand in yours and an actual whimper hummed in your throat. It was like your senses were heightened and Sam was the key to making it all better. Sam looked at you with his head cocked to the side.

“You alright?” He asked as you climbed out of the car. Oh God, his mouth, the way his lips moved when he talked, you wanted them on you, every part of you.

“Yeah.” You whispered, clenching your other hand in a fist. You shouldn’t be thinking of your best friend in that way. At least, not when he was leading you into your shared motel room with his brother. It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind, late at night, with your hand between your legs. You had walked in on Sam with Jessica once, back in the first few months of college. And God did that image give you something to think about. You mostly thought about how easily Sam could pin you on the bed, kiss and suck his way down your body until he reached your core, right where you needed him most. The idea of him devouring you like a starved animal, hands wrapped around your thighs, tongue-

“God, Cass, I thought you didn’t need to eat!” Dean exclaimed as the angel took another bite of his burger. Somehow you had missed entering the room and Castiel appearing inside. You let go of Sam’s hand and beelined to the bathroom. You shut the door and locked it, but not before hearing Dean gloat about how his earlier question had been correct.

You looked in the mirror and analyzed your blown pupils. You scoffed at yourself, splashing cold water onto your face. Why were you acting like a cat in heat? You had more self control than this. It didn’t make sense. You were fine this morning, yet now you were ready to grind yourself down on the edge of the bathtub.

You must have been in there a while because there was a knock on the door and you heard your name.

“I-I’m okay.” You stuttered out while holding back moans. It was Sam, who never wanted you to be uncomfortable. You bit down on your lip as you slipped a hand in your pants. After a few minutes of dissatisfying touching, you knew you had to stop and go back out into the room. When you opened the door there were three pairs of eyes on you, one playful, one uninterested, and one worried. You cleared your throat and shuffled to the table before taking a seat. Silence, aside from Castiel’s chewing, filled the room. You pulled out your laptop from the bags that had been brought in and began researching. What, you didn’t know, but it beat trying to avoid Sam’s gaze.

----

It was official: you were horny for Sam Winchester. It was bad, worse than it had been that afternoon. You all had figured out that one of the four horsemen, Famine, was in town, and he was looking for something to satisfy his hunger. It explained everything. Cass’ insatiable hunger and your insatiable need. Even Sam was going thirsty for some demon blood.

Now, you stood, or more squirmed, in the motel room as the boys created a plan. They were starting to suspect something was wrong with you, they just couldn’t figure it out. Dean was a bit more clued into the fact that you seemed to whimper every time you looked in Sam’s direction. Sam, completely clueless to this, had been trying to get you alone in hopes you would tell him what was wrong.

“We find Famine, take his little ring, and everyone will be back to normal.” Dean said, slapping his hands on his lap. You hugged yourself, chewing absentmindedly at your thumbnail in an attempt to stop the desire from coming out of you.

“Dean-” Sam’s voice made you melt and a small moan escaped your lips. The brothers looked at you before turning back to the conversation.

“-I can’t go. The demons-”

“I get it.” Dean interrupted Sam. He knew he couldn’t expect Sam to risk something like this. He had it handled. He had Castiel to help. He would’ve had you also, but he could tell you were ready to pounce on Sam. Your resolve was breaking. There wasn’t much more you could do. You decided - you were going to ask Sam to help you get over this.

“Sam,” You breathed out as you walked to him. Your legs were wobbly. You watched Sam shoot up from his seat, but before you could get to him Dean was grabbing both of your wrists. You whined, trying to pull away. You needed Sam, needed his body, his c-

“No.” Dean spoke sternly, pulling you to the door. He had to get you another room and lock you in. It was for your own good.

“Wait, let her g-” Sam tried to walk to you but Castiel, even in his hungry state, stepped in front of him. You yanked against Dean but he was stronger than you.

“Not right now, man.” Dean spoke as he dragged you out.

“What’s wrong with her?!” Sam was desperate. He needed to know why he couldn’t be around you.

“I think you know.” Castiel said before turning his attention back to his food. Sam shook his head and tried to think. Realization came across his face as he put it all together.

----

An hour had passed since Dean left you. He had locked you in the bathroom of a room as far from the original room that they had available. You had somehow gotten worse. You were bucking from the ground, trying to find something to alleviate the pain. It was horrible. You knew Sam was close. You could feel it. You needed him. The door was locked from the outside, but you were pulling on the handle, trying to get it open.

“Please,” You whined out. You banged on the door, trying to break it down. You whimpered a few times when you felt the fabric of your jeans rub against you. You had grown stronger since joining the boys. You could do this. You needed Sam.

The sound of wood cracking encouraged your efforts. You slammed your body up against the door and hit it with your fists until you felt it give way. You fell to the ground surrounded by the scattered pieces of wood from the door. Your recovery was quick and was sped up by the overwhelming need bubbling in you. You stumbled to the door of the room, which was, stupidly on Dean’s part, simply locked with the deadbolt. You ran out into the night like a caged animal escaping. You searched around trying to find the room where you knew Sam was.

There. Room 12. You ran for it, panting as your core grew wetter. You reached the room, shuffling around for the key that Dean had forgotten to take from you. You fumbled to unlock the door. You could already smell Sam, hear his own struggle to get his fix. You searched the room trying to find him.

“Sammy…” You whined out and clutched your stomach. You couldn’t find him, even though you knew he was here. You heard your name muffled through the door to the bathroom. Of course! Dean had hidden him in the same place he had put you. You practically ran to the door, yanking it open. There he was, handcuffed to the sink and looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes. You whimpered and fell to your knees next to him.

“Sammy, it hurts.” You said, gripping onto his shirt. Sam scrunched his eyebrows in worry and understanding. With his free hand he rubbed your side in an attempt to soothe you.

“I know, honey.” He breathed out as you leaned on him.

“Please, Sammy, help me. Please.” You whimpered and breathed in his scent.

“I don’t know if you-” He began.

“No, I do, I do, I do.” You chanted as his hand gripped onto your side. You could see him roll his head to the side. He could tell you were in pain. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to help. He did, more than anything in the world. He had wanted you since you joined him and Dean on the road. The time was never right, his confidence never high enough. And now he had a chance. The only problem was he didn’t know if you actually wanted it or if it was the old man controlling your desire. When Sam was silent to your begging, you moved in closer.

“Sammy, please… it hurts so bad… I want you… all of you…” You moaned out. Red hot need flashed across your vision. It was getting harder for Sam to not touch you in the way you both wanted. The final crush of his hesitancy was the whimper that came out of you when he took his hand off of you.

“Let me see you, baby.” His tone was delicate even when his words were dirty. You were quick to pull your clothes off. You didn’t care where they went and threw them in every direction. You were left naked and kneeling next to him. His eyes raked down your body before stopping on your acing core. You watched him, whining. He traced a finger across your burning skin. He stopped just before reaching your wetness.

“Please…” You breathed. He flicked his gaze to your eyes momentarily before moving his hand. He started slow, rubbing your clit mindfully. You fell backwards in pleasure but made sure you were still close enough for Sam to touch you. Sam’s pace never slowed or quickened, which made you buck your hips up. He pulled his hand away, leaving you cold and whiny.

“Ah ah,” Sam locked eyes with you, “let me do it.” He placed his hand back where it was to continue his rubbing. Your chest heaved as you willed yourself to stay still. God, you needed this. Your hand moved to your breasts. You toyed with your nipples. This made Sam pull at the cuff around his other wrist. He wanted to touch you, touch all of you. Damn Dean for restraining him like this.

“Just like that, baby, rub them just like that.” He slipped a finger in you. You moaned and clenched around it. He swore under his breath as he moved his hand. You felt like heaven and he hadn’t even had you around his cock yet.

“Yes, Sammy, yes.” You encouraged him. Looking at him from your spot on the floor, you could tell he was getting hard. You wanted to help him, helping him helped you. You moved to get up when Sam pulled his hand back again.

“I said, no moving.” He growled and moved his hips to hide the growing erection. You collapsed on the floor, desperate for him again.

“Wanna make you feel good, Sammy.” You mumbled as you felt not just one, but two fingers slip in. Sam sighed in pleasure, loving how you felt on his hand.

“You are, baby. You can have it, have it all. Just wanna make you come first.” His gentle tone only made you louder. You ran your hands down your body, sparks of pleasure erupting wherever you touched. You were close, so so close. You squeezed your eyes shut as Sam sped up the pace.

“So close, Sam, so so so…” You trailed off, the words falling off your tongue as he curled his fingers. He smiled devilishly, and if you didn’t know any better, or if you were in the headspace to even think, you would’ve thought he was possessed. No, this was completely and wholly Sam Winchester.

“That’s good, baby, come on. Come all undone for me.” He cooed. His words were what sent you over the edge, waves crashing down as you moaned through a bitten lip. The moment of reprieve from the pain was short lived as the need seemed to multiply. You figured this must be what torture was. You turned to your hands and knees before crawling to Sam. He groaned as he watched you look up at him, asking for permission to undress him. He nodded and your hands flew to his zipper. You unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down his body with his boxers.

His cock sprang free, looking achingly hard. You sucked in a breath, the sight making your clit throb. You moved a hand to touch him, but was stopped by his hand on your wrist. Your eyes shot to his.

“I want you around me.” His words were almost a beg, like he was just as needy for this as you were. You whimpered in reply, a new wave of pleasure washing over you. You climbed on top of him so you were chest to chest. He looked in your eyes before crashing his lips into yours. It was sloppy and full of desire. His hand gripped your hip, kneading the skin there. You groaned in response. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you tried to hold him as close to you as possible. His hand snaked down to position himself with your hole. He broke the kiss to speak.

“Ready, baby?” He asked. You answered by sinking down onto him with a sigh. You kissed him again, grinding your hips. He helped you move, lifting you with one arm only to guide you back down. His lips left yours, moving down your face then to your neck. He nipped at your skin sharply before kissing it better.

SamSamSamSamSamSam. The only thing in your mind was Sam. His name was racing through your brain in a never ending loop. He left little marks on you everywhere, causing you you speed up your movements. Your fingers tangled in his hair. You needed him closer, needed him deeper.

“God, you feel so good, baby. Just like I dreamed about.” Sam grunted out against your skin. Your walls were warm and tight around him. He could feel you tighten around him when he spoke, which only motivated him to keep going. His words made you moan. You loved this, and though the instant need for it had been brought on against your will, you had been dreaming about this moment for a while.

The room was filled with breathy moans and the sounds of sex. You pulled Sam's head back by his hair, gentle enough, before kissing him again. It was sloppy and wet, full of lust. You could feel yourself growing closer to orgasm again. It was insane how this felt. Most guys hadn't ever gotten you off once, much less twice in the same night. You whimpered into his mouth and felt a smile curve up his face. He was glad he could bring such pleasure to you.

The final breaking point for you was when you felt his hand holding you grip onto the soft fat of your bottom. You let out a few breathy whines as you felt Sam come a second later. You didn't care that the two of you had forgotten to use a condom in your sex driven states. None of that mattered. All that mattered was the euphoric high of multiple orgasms was washing over you as you stayed on Sam. Neither of you were moving anymore. He was still inside you when you let your arms fall to his chest. Your head lolled to its side onto his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around you.

“You okay, baby?” He said in between pants. You simply nodded. The overwhelming need to go for another round wasn't coming and you were so glad for it. Finally, you were at peace. Dean and Castiel must have gotten Famine’s ring somehow. You didn't think of what this meant until you heard the door to the motel room open.

“Sam-” Dean began, but was cut off by the sight of the two of you on the bathroom floor, Sam still cuffed to the sink. Castiel appeared behind Dean.

“She wasn't there.” He stated in a monotone after seemingly being sent to check up on you.

“Yeah, I got that.” Dean mumbled. Sam looked up at him sheepishly. You were starting to doze off. The energy it had taken all day to not be able to get off was taking a toll on you. Dean cleared his throat before grabbing a blanket off the bed. He draped it over you in an attempt to keep some of your modesty in tact.

“Can you, ya know?” Sam questioned while rattling the handcuffs attached to him. Dean pulled a key from his pocket and quickly freed his younger brother.

“We'll talk about this later.” Dean said before swiftly getting out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

[sunderwight]

SV AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates into a dragon.

It's not so bad, at first. He's an extremely magical sort of dragon so he can easily take on a humanoid shape, and he has dominion over an entire mountain, with a magical gate that leads to his palace. Said palace has a fully stocked treasury, a library, garden, etc, with the only real downsides being that the place is kind of huge and very difficult for a neet with limited housekeeping or landscaping skills to keep up with. The original dragon had enslaved a bunch of fairy spirits to do it for him, but since Shen Yuan has moral objections to that, he'd let them all go and they'd run off before he could even think to offer to hire any of them as paid employees instead. Not that he can blame them for being in a hurry to get gone.

He does his best, and generally enjoys being a dragon lazing on his mountain, or wandering the beauty of his palace and investigating the books and scrolls kept there. He doesn't actually seem to need to eat or drink, so that's not really an issue, and nobody looks keen to bother him. But after a few months the dust starts to really pile up, and trying to figure out how to do his own laundry without modern equipment leads to several disasters, and even though he doesn't need to eat he's starting to think it would be quite nice to have a fancy sit-down dinner and enjoy it for its own sake anyway. He has an enchanted larder but his food prep skills aren't up to much.

So, Shen Yuan ventures away from his mountain. He keeps to his human disguise when he's not traveling, and at first tries to hire on some help from a nearby city. But when he explains that he lives on the mountain, he realizes the difficulty, because everyone in the area knows that only the dragon lives there. So they all think he's either a liar or a fraud, or some servant of a nefarious supernatural creature angling to trick and possibly devour them.

Shen Yuan tries approaching another town in his dragon form, to see if anyone will actually deal with him if he's being upfront and honest about the situation, but the townspeople just panic. He returns to his mountain to rethink his strategies, and in the meanwhile the alarmed locals hire a swordsman to go after him. The guy gives him a few very painful cuts before Shen Yuan mostly-accidentally sends him careening into a boulder. One broken arm later the swordsman is gently persuaded that the pay he was offered isn't worth the effort on this job, and leaves.

Discouraged, Shen Yuan decides he's gonna give this one last try. He picks the second closest city, flies up, and is like yes hello, yes I am indeed a dragon, no I'm not trying to burn down your walls, yes it would be excellent if you stopped shooting arrows at me, look they don't even get past the scales? It's kind of silly? Okay, yes, thank you very much. Good. Now, the thing is, I'm looking for some people. I want to take them back to my mountain with me, to my incredibly nice palace, and -- what was that? A princess? No no I don't want a princess, what would I even do with one? If anything I'm looking for the complete opposite of a princess!

Anyway, the locals take this to mean that the dragon is demanding a sacrifice in the form of a pretty boy of no particular pedigree, and Shen Yuan takes this to mean that he's finally made his case clear and they're going to dig up someone who is willing to overlook his being a dragon in exchange for free room and board and fair wages out of his massive treasury.

SY's a bit disheartened when the entire city could only apparently turn up one such person -- an underfed teenage boy who looks at Shen Yuan like, despite the situation, he is still expecting to be eaten at any moment. Poor thing! But at least having one servant means he can potentially get more, especially if it all goes well. The lad can tell others that working for a dragon isn't so bad! Well, provided that he doesn't give up in alarm at the state of the mountain palace.

For his part, Luo Binghe at first thinks he's definitely going to get eaten, and then that this dragon is weirdly nice about planning to eat him, and then that maybe the dragon has other (even less savory!) plans for him, until finally he sees the state of the dragon's laundry and the foot-thick layer of dust in the corners, and gets completely distracted. Mortal terror forgotten, those floors should not be that filthy, Lord Dragon respectfully that isn't how anyone should prepare rice either, but oh Binghe has never seen a kitchen so nice before in his life...!

Anyway, needless to say, it works out just fine.

[melanchoire]

can i pls request like literally anything with mean soft dom yunjin??? like maybe making out or some more nsfw will do😭😭🙏if ur not taking requests sorry!!

anon i realized when i finished writing that you said “MEAN soft dom” 😭 anyway there is some of that here because those are the three words that define jen completely

cw: cunnilingus, degradation, scissoring, strap–on use, 69ning.

being in a relationship with yunjin is like dating your best friend 😭 sassy and unfiltered girl who loves to tease you by giving you side–eye glances, rolling her eyes or pretending to argue with you

she is so friendly and funny that sometimes you forget that you’re in a relationship with her, thinking that it’s just the typical situation where you have some tension with your friend until you start to think clearly and remember that she is your girlfriend!!

the making out sessions with yunjin are so 🥴 she’s not the type to kiss you like she wants to devour you, but rather she prefers to take her time and enjoy every second. you could go on to say that she likes long and slow kisses, her humming in between the kiss or even smiling against your lips and letting out a little laugh, looking at you with eyes full of love to lean back and capture your lips again

in general i think she would be more of a giver. i think if you asked her to be a little rougher or go faster, she would do it, but not without constantly making sure that she is not hurting you and that you’re feeling comfortable

but with the passage of time and knowing your body better than you do, there comes a point where she doesn’t even have to bother asking you things

she is also the type who mixes teasing, dirty talk and praise into one sentence. she may be praising you for taking what she is giving you so well but suddenly she is grinning and teasing you calling you greedy and needy???

she’s all “shit, babe. this pussy is taking me so good and you’re really enjoying it, aren’t you? practically begging me to stay inside it. do you feel that? can you feel your walls hugging my cock and begging me not to go?

“god, you don’t know how much i missed this pussy.”

but yunjin also enjoys having some attention and being pampered, baby needs that kind of attention too :( so what’s better than eating her? obviously not without first getting a little revenge for how daring she was all day flirting and provoking you

she is sensitive when you leave hickeys on her thighs, trying to keep a relaxed expression or continue teasing you but she really can’t keep quiet, struggling to stifle her noises while simultaneously enjoying your lips leaving wet kisses on her skin, so close to her aching center that emanates heat

but as much as she loves fucking you with her fingers or strap, she is a scissors and 69ning sister 🤩 if we talk about 69ning she doesn’t care much about positions and doesn’t care too much about being on top or bottom, she always ends up devouring you like she hasn’t eaten in days and she loves it when you moan against her pussy

and if we talk about scissors, it’s the same thing!! anything is fine with her as long as she can grind her pussy against yours in a way that makes you two a mess, but this option always ends up making her the mess

she pathetically moans your name and throws her head back, babbling a series of incoherent things and so many “please, please, please.” as she loses control moving her hips against yours and begins to become more desperate, along with her hands clawing at the sheets in a way that can tear them

aftercare with yunjin is all about kisses and cuddling together ❤️ whe would shower you with words of love, murmuring sweet things against your lips as she kisses you and lets her hands run over your body, not in a sexual way, but more like gentle caresses and cuddles

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

warning: yandere behavior, possessiveness, dubcon, breeding, pregnancy, gaslighting, toxic relationship

Yandere!Hunter x Bunny Hybrid!Reader…

He’s unable to even think about hunting you when you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen. From your chubby form to your soft fluffy bunny ears, he’s absolutely smitten.

Once he realizes there’s another hunter tracking you, he becomes a human hunter, killing them before dragging you into his home to make you his cute little wife.

It’s too dangerous outside, you’ll get eaten alive out there! He tells you stories of other bunny hybrids being hunted by foxes or hunters and devoured and that causes you to stay by his side.

He’s protecting you, after all! Once you’re a docile, sweet little thing, he makes sure to fuck you senseless and put a litter in that soft belly of yours. Your fat cunt needs to be stuffed full of his cum, it’ll keep you warm during the cold winter.

Aren’t you grateful that you get to sleep with him by a fire inside instead of in your little burrow? You thought you remembered it being cozy, but he assures you it was dirty and not suitable for a sweet little princess like you.

Especially now, when you’re carrying his litter. Your pregnant belly is so big, you’re sure it’s because you’re only a hybrid and your mate is human.

Sometimes you wish you were back in the woods where you were free, but then you remember all the scary things he’s told you. Besides, he’s your mate now, you’re bound to him for life…

Might as well enjoy the comfort of being a well taken care of pet.

———————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @sunset-214 @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @sandramalikstyles-blog @anonymouskiwi @pedropascalbabygirl @flamefoxx @facelessfionna

[fruittt-punchhh]

Pop My Cherry!

all parts

Synopsis: your dad's best friend is none other than Toji Fushiguro, and you can't help but wonder what he could do with his hands.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x reader.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, dad's best friend! Toji, suggestiveness, cursing, inexperienced (ish) reader, reader is a virgin but has done things ya know, female masturbation, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, getting caught in the act, reader smokes weed, alcohol usage, pet/ affectionate names, age gap (reader is 24, Toji is in his 30s), Toji calls reader (doll, slut, bitch, etc.), big dick! Toji, cunnilingus (f! receiving), fingering, just smut tbh.

Word Count: 3.7k-ish

Notes: hello again lovelies! here is pt. 4 of pop my cherry! I hope you guys have been digging it bc I def have❤️‍🔥🫶 also, reader finally gets her coochie ate🗣️🗣️🗣️can we get some w’s in the chat or some hoorays because we finally made it lmao. lemme know what you think!!! enjoy you filthy rat🐀💖🫶💋‼️ also, credits to kithsune and reveriesources for the banners! check them out!

“Poor baby, can’t even make yourself cum. You need Toji’s help, huh? Lemme show you, love”

Toji has you on your back with your knees pressed to your chest, his mouth hovering over your pussy. You can feel his breath on you as he takes in the sight before him.

“You have such a cute fucking cunt, you know that? Can’t believe no one’s knocked you up yet, girl.”

You feel your pussy clench around nothing as you try not to beg him. Anything would be better than him staring you down like this.

“T-Toji, I’m nervous. I-I’ve never done any of this before, what if I-“

“Just be quiet and let me eat, y/n. Haven’t eaten all day and I’m fucking starving.”

He trails sloppy kisses from your thighs, down to your juicy pussy. He licks a long stripe on the side of your pussy, and sucks on your outer lip. He chuckles at how you squirm. He loves watching you melt for him. He’s desperate to pound into you but he knows he’ll break you if he doesn’t properly stretch you out first. Even the most, ahem, experienced of women have a hard time adjusting to his size.

“Lemme make you feel good, okay doll? Wanna watch you come undone for me.”

Without any warning, he flattens his tongue to lap up all of your juices as he licks your entire pussy. You moan and instinctively grab a fistful of his hair to ground yourself.

“Kinky are we, huh? Gonna have to grab it harder than that.”

You do as your told as Toji eats you out like a man starved. He’s full on moaning into your cunt as he sucks on your swollen clit. You taste so fucking good for him. Like candy.

“Like w-what?”

Oh. Toji freezes before he’s looking up into your eyes.

“Yeah baby doll, this pussy is sweet like fucking candy. I could do this for hours, but I don’t think you could handle it. I need you to cum all in my mouth, can you do that f’me princess?”

You cry out as he goes back to devouring you, bucking your hips into his mouth. You feel out of control at this point. You’ve been basically edging yourself all day thinking about Toji. Now, he’s in front of you eating you like this is his last meal. You didn’t know how much more you could take. You felt that familiar burning in the pit of your stomach as your orgasm approached.

“F-fuck, mngh Tojiiiii, m’gonna c-cum”

Shit, he wanted to say something to send you over the edge, but he didn’t want to stop his work on your clit for fear of you not finishing. Besides, you tasted like fucking gold on his tongue and he’d be damned if he let a little dirty talk stop you from cumming on his face.

“Oh my, ohmygooood, m’cumming baby fuuuuck”

Your orgasm crashed into you, hard, and you thought you were going to pass out. No one has ever even touched you like this before, let alone devoured you whole. It felt sinfully good and you were cumming so quickly. You had no idea why you had waited this long to get some head, but you were surely addicted at any rate.

Toji doesn’t let you rest from your high, instead intent on overstimulating your abused cunt. He needed to taste every last drop, so he shoves his thick tongue inside your tight hole. If he could drink you until the well ran dry, he would.

“T-Toji please, s’too much, mmmmhh”

You were seeing stars at this point. His tongue plunging in and out of you, and his big nose was rubbing on your clit in a way that you thought should be illegal. You couldn’t help but hump into his face, desperately chasing your next orgasm much too soon.

Toji came up for air to take you in as you lie before him. He had to grip his cock again, nearly bruising the base of it. You had this dreamy, fucked out look on your face. Tears streaming down your temples, hair ruffled, and lips nearly bleeding from how hard you were biting them. He still held your legs taught against your chest, not giving you anywhere to run.

“It’s not too much, girl, I know you can take it. We’re just getting started, babe.” He says as he licks his lips and chin obscenely, trying not to waste any of your sweet nectar. He releases the hold on your legs, much to your relief. You finally felt like you could take a deep breath for the first time since you two began.

Your relief was cut short.

“Hold your legs up for me doll, need’ta stretch her out nice and good for me. Don’t want ya’ cutting my dick in half with that tight pussy of yours”

You obediently wrapped your hands around the back of your knees, pulling your legs back up into their original position. Of course, the original position had you bent entirely in half thanks to Toji’s brute strength, but this would do just fine. You bite your lip as you look down at him. You know what’s coming. You’ve been thinking about it for the past twelve hours and now that it’s happening, you don’t know if you should be elated or terrified.

“Good girl, hold ‘em just like f’me”

Toji looks at your glistening cunt and feels like he is suddenly 25 again, bursting with hormones and energy. Your pretty pink pussy was making a wet spot on the bed, but a little more couldn’t hurt right? He spits on your pussy, watching it drip down your clit, your folds, and inside of you. He was supposed to be ruining you, but goddammit if he didn’t feel as ruined as ever looking at your cute, helpless expression.

You yelp out as Toji lightly slaps your pussy. Not enough to hurt, but the stinging was still there. At this point, you were so desperate for him, you think you’d let him kill you if it’d meant he’d fuck you first.”

“S’probably gonna hurt, but I’ve gotta get you ready, okay love?”

(not toji being.. sweet?)

Toji runs his two fingers along your glistening slit, coating himself with your wetness. He places a sweet kiss to your clit before he’s pushing his middle finger into you, slowly.

“H-holy shiiit, ohmyg-ooood,” you choke out. It was better than you could have imagined. You fingered yourself once in a blue moon. It wasn’t your favorite past time since you could never make yourself cum that way. But this felt worlds better than what your small fingers could do. He’s barely starting pumping into you before you’re a whining mess underneath him.

Toji is rutting his cock into the mattress below, desperate for any sort of touch. You were driving him insane with those cute little gasps and whimpers. He could only dream of how slutty you’d sound when you were stuffed full of his cock.

“Fuck, look at you. Already ‘bout to cum, huh?”

You lift your head up to look down at Toji while he finger fucks you. He’s going almost too slow, but the stretch told you it was necessary. He wasn’t even eating your pussy anymore. His eyes were glued to the beauty in front of him.

He loved watching how your tight hole almost sucked his digit in, and he couldn’t imagine how heavenly you would feel clenching and sucking around his cock. He felt his mouth watering for another taste of you. He locks his lips to your clit and with a harsh suck, he starts moving his finger faster.

You were a writhing mess for him and you already felt your orgasm creeping up on you yet again. You were sure you could cum just from him fingering you alone. The sight of him taking in every part of you, watching you so closely while you whined for him; it was too much. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he starts suckling on your bud and pumping into you faster and faster.

He keeps pulling away from your clit, sucking on it and releasing with an obscene pop! He keeps giving you little kitten licks to tease you while you huff in frustration. You grab a chunk of his black hair and pull him into you, forcing him to stay glued to your clit. In doing so, you released one of your legs, letting it rest on the bed as Toji devoured you.

Well now, that simply wouldn’t do. While he didn’t mind you being aggressive with him, he needed those plush thighs up and out of the way so he could consume every part of you.

“No ma’am, hold those legs or imma do it for you,” he winks, and you feel yourself losing it. You didn’t know if you had the strength to hold them anymore. The pace he was going at, his tongue feeling too fucking good on your clit. Your legs were starting to shake and they were tired, and you were scared you might clasp them together on his head whenever he made you cum next.

Noticing your failure to pull your legs back up, he takes his hand off of his long cock and uses it to shove your knees back to their original position.

“H-holy shiiiit Toj-“ you can’t even finish your exclamation before your breath is stolen from you. He pushes another thick finger inside of your soppy cunt and just goes to town, sucking and moaning on your clit.

“-told ya’ t’watch that mouth, bitch,” he says, muffled by your sweet pussy as he tries his hardest not to fuck you within an inch of your life on his fingers.

The stretch was painful, but it only added to the sensations you were overwhelmed by. Your high still hadn’t worn off, so Toji, who would normally be considered a 10/10 pussy eater, was feeling more like a 100/10.

“Mmmmh, I bet you wanna cum so bad, huh doll? Should I give it to you? Have you earned it?”

Toji smirks as he sees the look on your face. He has never seen anyone look so desperate and needy for anything in their life. As if you were a glass of water in the desert and she was dying of thirst. That look might kill him if he stares too long.

While he awaits your answer, he continues torturing your pussy with the slow thrusts of his big fingers.

“Y-yess, oh god, yes, I-I promise I’ve been good for you, sir”

Have you lost your mind?? The nicknames Toji gave you made you weak, so you wanted to try one out. What if he thought it was stupid???

Sir? He didn’t want to let on that the little nickname you just gave him had his dick spurting precum all over the mattress. You were so desperate to cum, he started to almost feel bad for you.

“Sir, hah, you must wanna cum real bad, huh? Do it then, bitch. Cum on my fingers if you want it so bad,” he says as he quickens his pace, and starts curling his fingers inside you with every thrust. He figured he had teased you enough and you looked like you’d explode if you didn’t get your release. He started sucking on your clit again, anxious to feel how tight you’d get when you came for him.

“Fuck, baby please, just-just like that, I-I’m, shit, gonna cum, ohmygoooood,” you whined. You thought it couldn’t get any better until he was curling his fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. That was the spot you would fail to reach every time you fingered yourself, so you hardly bothered with it. He kept hitting that spot, over and over again. You were going to cum any second now. Your felt your stomach tighten so much you were scared you’d burst. You knew your orgasm was approaching, but it felt so much more.. intense. It was almost like the pressure you feel when you have to pee really bad, you thought. But you had used the restroom when you came in from tanning, so surely you didn’t have to go again, right???

Toji looked up at you while he ate you, listening to your moans turn into gasps and cut off breaths. You were so close, he knew it. He couldn’t let up now, he needed to feel you cum. He had to mentally prepare himself for how tight you’d get when you were cumming on his cock later.

He speeds up his movements, not letting you have a moment without constant stimulation. He was going to pull this out of you one way or another. With one final thrust of his fingers, you were screaming.

Your pussy clenches on his fingers so tight, they’re nearly pushed out of you from the sheer pressure. He never lets up, drinking in your juices as you squirt all over his face. Jesus Christ, you couldn’t stop. You were groaning with how intensely your orgasm washed over you. You thought squirting was just a thing in porn! You never knew any of your friends to do it. But here you were, gushing around Toji’s big fingers like you were on cam.

Toji thought he might cum seeing you like this. You were screaming underneath him, attempting (poorly) at pushing his head back, your thighs squeezing together as the stimulation was beginning to be too much. Your pussy squeezes his fingers so tight as you squirt all over him. He was in fucking heaven.

“Atta’ girl, look at you. You’re ready for me now, yeah?”

“T-Toji?”

You look down at him, still shaking as he pulls his fingers out of you, the sudden loss of his warmth making you whimper. You watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your cum off of them. He even licks his fucking palm. God, he was feral. He still wasn’t looking at you. Was he talking to your pussy?

“Shut up, girl, wasn’t talking to you. I was asking her, hah,” he laughs. He was so far gone he didn’t know if he’d be able to go another moment without your pretty pink lips on his cock.

“O-oh, s-sorry, Toj-“

He interrupts you, not giving you a chance to finish whatever apology you had come up with.

“You talk too much, brat. Need to stuff that mouth shut.” Just the thought of his dick anywhere near that pretty mouth had him feeling out of control.

Opting to keep your mouth shut like Toji wanted demanded, you (somehow) managed to sit up, crawling on your hands and knees towards him. You continue forward until he is leaning on the footboard of your bed, with his hands placed behind him, holding him up. And what a sight it was.

His cock was stiff, leaking precum all over his shirt. The sight of you crawling towards him like a little minx, tits hanging in front of him, had him going insane.”

“Come here, doll, lemme show you how good you taste”

You sit on his lap, being careful to not sit all the way down on his cock. You were still so sensitive from the orgasms he had yanked out of you. You had to hover on top of him so you wouldn’t yelp from the overstimulation.

You wrap your arms around his neck, ready to have your lips on his after such a long intermission. You close your eyes, ready for him to meet you halfway, when you feel his (still wet) hand grab your chin roughly.

“What, are you scared of it or somethin’, woman? Put that pussy on me, bitch, need to feel how good I did for ya’,” he growls, grabbing your hips as he pushes your heat down onto his throbbing cock.

He wasn’t going to last at this rate. Your hands were in his hair, tugging on it while you moan into his mouth. He had your sloppy cunt running up and down his length, covering every inch of him in your lust. He thrusts his tongue in your mouth, wanting you to taste how good you were for him. It didn’t exactly taste like candy like he claimed earlier, but it wasn’t bad. It was a little sweet, even. He was intoxicating.

Your hips were aching as Toji’s hands were bruising you from the grip he had on them. You felt another orgasm approaching, very apparent from your shaky legs and pathetic moans.

“You sound like such a little slut for me, baby. Ya’know, next time you should record it. We’d make a killing, you just sound too good.”

Next time??? You hadn’t even thought that far ahead yet. You were so lost in the moment you failed to realize that Toji may not ever be able to get enough of you. It wasn’t far from the truth to say you felt the same too, as conflicting as it was. At this point, you were too far gone and you felt too good to care anymore.

You stilled your hips, needing a break and you found it hard to talk with your pussy grinding on Toji’s lap like you were, “T-Toji, god that’s so embar-“

“I didn’t say stop, woman. Learn how to talk while I please you or we’re not gettin’ anywhere,” he says as he grabs your plump ass and rubs you against his cock again.

“S-sorry sir, I just feel like… I s-sound weird, mmmnh,” you respond, moaning as he plants a firm hand on your ass cheek, spanking you.

“Shut the fuck up little girl. Can you see what you did to me, huh? I’m about to cum just looking at you and you sound like a fucking pornstar,” you can’t help but hide behind your hands as you blush for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Don’t hide that pretty face, doll. Ya’know what? You don’t have to post it or nothin’. Just send it to me so I got something to beat off too later, okay?”

The thought of Toji pleasing himself to your voice had you melting. Maybe he’s just super pent up from work and hasn’t got laid in a while? Surely that had to be it. You were a 6/10 on a good day, and you had maybe 1% of the sexual experience that he had.

“Okay, okay yeah we can try next time, I-I guess. Would you really…. touch yourself to it? Why?” You ask, knowing that the plethora of porn available at his disposal was immense. Why would he pick a shitty homemade video of you moaning for him for jack off material??

“That’s it, good girl. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, you know that, y/n? If I had a video of you moaning on top of my dick, it might be the only thing I cum to ever again”

Toji was fucked. Since when is he this honest? To a woman he barely knew, nonetheless. It was so true, though. Having you whining for him, pleasing yourself by using his cock on cam? Pfft, he might not even need to get laid again if you got that video (false).

Your face was beet red at this point. You moaned in response to his confession. Instead of question him further, you decided to take the initiative for once. You kiss him as you finally rub your hands under his tight shirt, feeling how rock hard his torso was. He was sweaty and had just a few chest hairs and you didn’t know why you wanted to rip his shirt off so fucking badly.

“If you wanna see, all you have to do is ask, hun”

“Please Toji, I want to see all of you. Please, I’ll do anything,” you confess, because it was true. You wanted to see him just as exposed as you were right now.

“Oh, anything, huh? Even if I wanted you to suck every last drop of your cum off my cock?” If you kept grinding your little pussy all over him like this, he was going to finish well before he intended to. If you sucked him off, at least he could have a break from the constant friction you were giving him.

“Oh… I mean, yes, yeah I would. I wanna be a good girl for you, Toji,” and to be fair, you had been dreaming about how he would taste, and how quickly he’d fill up your mouth with his massive cock. Your mouth started to water as you waited for his response.

Jesus Christ. He didn’t think you’d be so quick to agree, but he also didn’t know just how wrapped around his finger you were. The thought of stuffing your throat full of him was intoxicating, and he was scared he may not last long enough to fuck your tight cunt like he needed to.

“That’s what I thought, baby doll,”

He watches your heavenly figure as you lift off of him, scooting back to come face to face with his throbbing dick.

You were impossibly nervous. You wanted to do a good job, but all the other blowjobs you’ve given before were for much, much smaller dicks. You’ve never even made a guy finish with just your mouth before, always being interrupted by roommates or your jaw being so tired that you had to jerk them off to finish the job. But you were determined to make Toji feel good after how hard he made you cum.

“Uh-uh, what do ya’ think you’re doin’, woman? Get on your fucking knees,” he spits. He knows with his extreme size and girth, it’d be much easier for you to take more of him if you were on your knees and had your throat at that angle. Plus, seeing you on your knees throating his cock was a requirement at this point.

“Okay, yeah sure, s-sorry,” you say as you step off the bed and get on your knees in the floor in front of the wall. You sit back on your heels as you wait for him, the excitement rushing through your entire body.

“Girl stop apologizing and just make it up to me, yeah?”

pt. 5

@scorpiosugar mwahahah