#your mind will be blown once you finally get filled in

[urmum-lovesme]

The way you write toxic rafe is👨🏻‍🍳💋!!!!!!im obsessed need moreee🫶🏼

He's actually psychotic. (I'm in love...)

The kitchen lights shone above them, casting shadows that seemed to mirror the growing tension between the two. The house was eerily quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator, the air thick with unspoken words. Rafe had been on edge ever since the phone call with Ward- he had tried to brush it off, but his anger was festering like a wound that wouldn't heal. And Y/N had been the one closest to him, trying to ease his mind. But tonight, her efforts had only seemed to make him angrier.

“Can you stop fucking bitching in my ear?”

Rafe spat, his voice sharp, laced with annoyance. Y/N stepped forward, her face flushed, her arm folded trying to remain calm. She spoke back, her voice steady, though she could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

“I’m not bitching in your ear, Rafe.”

Rafe shot her a look, eyes narrowing, and he took a step toward her. “You don’t get it, Y/N. You think you can just fix everything with a few fucking words? It doesn’t work like that!”

Rafe’s jaw was clenched tight as he stood by the kitchen island, pulling a small baggie from his pocket. With practiced ease, he tapped a line of white powder onto the cool marble countertop, his movements sharp and unbothered. He sniffed once, wiping his nose with the back of his hand before leaning down, inhaling a sharp drag of the powder, his shoulders tensing as the rush hit him.

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the sight. She hated this- hated watching him do this to himself. Without thinking, she stepped closer, reaching for his arm. “Rafe, stop,” she pleaded, trying to pull him away from the counter.

“You don’t need this.”

“-don’t start Y/N,”

He muttered, sniffling as he rubbed at his nose, his fingers gripping the counter like it was the only thing holding him up. He barely acknowledged her, shrugging her off with a roll of his shoulder.

“Rafe, I mean it,” she pressed, her voice firmer now. She grabbed at his wrist again, trying to pull him back.

“This shit isn’t helping you—it’s making everything worse.”

“You think you know what I need HUH!?”

His voice was cold, sharp like a knife as he slammed his hand down onto the counter with a loud BANG, the sound reverberating in the silent kitchen. He let out a harsh laugh, finally turning his head to glance at her, his pupils already blown wide.

“You think you have any fucking clue what it’s like?”

Her breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes- wild, unpredictable. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled away from his skin cautiously. She said softly.

“Please- let's just talk about it . . .”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Because in the next second, his face twisted, his expression darkening as his body tensed even more. He took a step toward her and his hands curled into fists at his sides, for a moment, she thought he might punch straight through the marble of the counter.

“Talk to you?” he scoffed. “What the fuck do you think you can do for me, huh?”

“Rafe—”

“What?”

“You need to stop caring about what your dad thinks,” she said, her voice cautious but firm.

“It’s eating you up, Rafe. He treats you like shit... he’s an asshole.”

Rafe’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing with anger. His expression shifted completely as he turned to face her, his muscles tensing. He bit out, his voice low but filled with malice,

“Don’t fucking talk about my dad like that,”

Y/N stood still, folding her arms, her eyes never leaving his. Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard she thought it might break. “You think you know everything-” he snarled, taking a step toward her. His anger was palpable, almost suffocating.

“You think you can just tell me how to deal with my family?”

She flinched slightly at the tone of his voice. Rafe’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his body moving towards her, now merely a few feet away. He growled, his breath coming heavier now.

“Don’t you dare tell me how to handle my shit.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened as she urged, her voice shaking with a mix of frustration and concern, "I just think that-"

“Don’t fucking lecture me, Y/N,”

Rafe spat, his voice rising as he took another step forward. His body was radiating heat, fury in his eyes. Y/N’s chest tightened, her words slipping from her mouth before she could stop them.

“I’m not trying to lecture you, I just—”

Before she could finish, Rafe’s hand shot out, grabbing her by the wrist with a force that made her gasp. Without another word, he shoved her harshly against the counter, her lower back hitting the counter hard enough to make her gasp. The impact sent a jolt of pain up her spine, but the look in his eyes scared her more than anything. She stumbled back slightly, eyes wide in shock as he hissed out.

“You think I need you to save me from my own fucking life?”

Y/N’s heart pounded, her breath quickening as she stared at him, realising just how far his rage mixed with the addicting substance now sprinkled over the counter had taken him.

“No… I just want to be here for you—please listen to me-”

Rafe didn’t move at first. He just stared at her, his chest rising and falling with sharp, ragged breaths. Then, his eyes flickered to the counter beside him. The sound of metal scraping against the marble sent a chill down her spine. Her stomach twisted as she glanced down, her blood running cold when she saw what he had in his hand.

A knife.

Her breath hitched. The blade caught the dim light as he lifted it slightly, his grip tight around the handle. He took a slow step forward, angling the knife slightly, not lunging, not threatening outright—but letting her see it. Letting her understand.

“You think you know how to fix my family, hmm?”

He murmured, his voice eerily calm now. Her feet stayed rooted to the ground, every muscle locked in place as he took another step closer. He tilted his head as he ran his thumb absently along the handle. Her throat was dry, words failing her as she forced herself to meet his gaze. He wasn’t looking at her like he wanted to hurt her. No, it was worse than that. He was looking at her like he wanted to prove something. Like he needed to see the fear in her eyes to remind himself of something. She whispered, trying to keep her voice steady,

“I never said that. . .”

“But you fucking think it.” His grip on the knife tightened, his knuckles going white.

“You think I’m weak?”

She shook her head frantically, her hands trembling at her sides as she spoke out desperately,

"No, Rafe. I don’t— I swear—”

“Don’t lie to me”

He cut her off sharply, his voice dark and unforgiving. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body tense, watching his every move. He tilted the knife slightly, just enough to catch her attention again.

"You know what’s funny, Y/N?"

He let out a breath of amusement, though there was no humour in his voice. He took a slow step forward, the weight of his presence suffocating. Y/N barely dared to breathe as the tip of the knife grazed her bare arm, trailing lightly over her skin. A shiver ran through her, her pulse hammering beneath the delicate scrape of cold metal traveling up her arm slow and deliberate. He paused before the blade traced the curve of her jaw, featherlight yet impossible to ignore. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, her body frozen, trapped in place by his touch.

The tip pressed against the centre of her neck.

A single, calculated tap.

Her breath hitched. She didn’t move, didn’t dare flinch, she couldn't as she was routed to the spot in pure terror. Rafe’s lips curled into something almost resembling amusement, though his eyes were anything but playful.

“I could do anything right now. I could do anything I fucking wanted, and no one would stop me.”

She couldn't breathe.

Because he was right, no one would stop him. No one would hear her scream. No one would come running, no one would burst through the doors to pull her away. If he wanted to, he could. The terrifying truth was she wasn’t scared because she thought he would do it, she was scared because she knew that if he did… there would be no one to stop him. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly blinked it away, trying to steady her voice.

"Rafe… please, just put it down.”

His lips twitched, like the very idea of listening to her pleas was laughable.

Then, without warning, he let out a sharp exhale and dropped the knife onto the counter with a loud clank. He muttered out, his voice quieter now, a calm settling in as he wiped his hand across his face.

“Don’t ever talk about my fucking family again”

[fandoms-writings]

Shut Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (fem intended)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, oral (f receiving), fingering, smut, I wrote this on my phone so minimal layout and editing

A/N: hi hello I know I haven’t posted in forever I’m sorry, please take this as a peace offering 🥺

Bucky couldn't even remember what you were fighting about earlier. He knew it was stupid, childish even. You two bickered all the time, you always had ever since he met you. He liked to rile you up, see how angry and frustrated he could make you - the kind, polite, quiet one. Something about how you scrunched your brows, bared your teeth, and let the sweet girl facade fade. It made him feel alive. 

But the second those words left your mouth, his mind had gone blank, and the argument ready on his tongue fizzled away. 

"Maybe if I sit on your face, that'll shut you up." 

You'd threatened him with bodily harm and spewed hate-filled words at him. But this kind of retaliation was a first. And, oh did he like it. 

He more than liked it.

You'd followed him to his room earlier in the heat of your argument so there was no need for pause, or hesitation, or secrecy, before his lips landed on yours, silencing you. Your body slumped against his, all the tension and anger fizzling out into nothing as your hands gripped the front of his jacket. His feet guided you to the edge of his bed where he turned and sat, finally releasing you. 

"Then do it." He'd countered, daring you to follow through with your threat for the first time. And when your eyes locked with his, your pupils blown wide and a hesitant look on your face, he smirked, "C'mon, you know you want to." And when you still didn't move, "unless you're all talk." 

That'd done it. You hiked up the skirt of your sundress as you crawled on top of him, his smirk growing as you hovered over him, the damp spot on your panties on display for him. He instantly wrapped his flesh hand around your waist to pull the fabric to the side, using his metal one to guide you to his mouth. 

He let out a low groan as soon as the taste of you hit his tongue. He never realized how badly he'd wanted you. He was still navigating being normal again, not being The Winter Soldier, that oftentimes the way his body reacted or his heart thudded against his chest went unnoticed, or left him in a stupor. But with you now grinding down on his tongue, it all clicked for him. 

But he'd tuck that little secret away for now. 

He could tell you were hovering, not letting him have the full weight of you and he pulled his mouth off you, chuckling at the pathetic whine that slipped past your lips as you looked down at him. 

"Don't hover," He ordered, "I want all of you." 

Your brows pinched and you only replied with, "And I want you to shut up," Before fully taking your new seat. The authority in your tone and the true weight of you on his mouth had his pants growing tight but he didn't want to take his hands off of you. Not as he reached up with his vibranium hand and gripped one of your breasts, massaging it as he pulled it over the fabric of your dress, lightly tugging at the nipple once it was free. 

The moan that left your mouth at the coldness of his hand on your skin was pornographic with your head tipped back and your hands laying over his own, guiding them to how you liked to be touched, tightening his grip over your skin.

He decided then and there as you looked down at him, your jaw slack and the most beautiful sounds falling from your mouth, that he could do this forever. You were so beautiful like this, on the edge of release with him being the one to get you there. 

He was never letting you go after this.

He slipped his hands out of yours, reaching his flesh one up to grip what he could reach of your neck, the other sliding under your ass to slip a finger in your soaked core. Your hands dove to tangle and tug at his hair as your moans pitched higher and louder, his name a chant on your tongue as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, tongue circling and lips closing around your clit while you practically fucked yourself on his fingers. 

He wanted you to cum - needed it. So when his fingers curled and your moans turned to begging, he copied that same motion over and over and over until a gasp tore your breath from you. 

As quickly as he could, he pulled his fingers from you, replacing them with his tongue just as you fell over the edge, all but screaming his name, your legs clamping around his head as he swallowed your release, groaning into your skin. 

Your hands left his hair and wrapped around his arms that were holding you up, holding on like he was your life line. He traced a few lazy circles around you with his tongue as your body relaxed before lifting you and sliding you down to sit on his chest. 

When you looked at him, your confidence started to slip away, a sheepish, “sorry,” falling on his ears. He sighed with what he knew was the dopiest smile he’d ever let you see as his hands reached up to cradle your cheeks. 

“Babygirl,” he’d laughed, “you can shut me up like that any time you please.” 

If you'd like to be notified when I post a new story, follow my library blog @remis-library and turn on notifications.

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ⭑.ᐟ THE FIRST FALL OF SNOW

Pro Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight in the public’s eye, is finally on his way home. The moment he clocked out, he was Bakugou Katsuki.

The apartment door swung open, and Bakugou trudged inside, every step weighed down by the exhaustion of the day. His back ached from the relentless action-packed hours at work (somehow, during the holidays, villains were at their peak action), and the chill of winter clung to his skin, even through the layers of his winter gear earlier. He’d been looking forward to collapsing onto the bed and shutting the world out for the rest of the night.

He let out a grunt of frustration, yanking his scarf off as he called out, “I’m home.”

Bakugou was greeted by your voice. Too chipper, as if you had something planned.

“Perfect timing! Go change into something warm; we’re going out!” you said, a spark of excitement lighting up your tired features. You had on your favorite scarf and coat, your cheeks flushed from the cold air that must’ve blown in while you’d been waiting for him.

Bakugou frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re kidding, right? It’s freezing, and I just got home.”

“I’m not kidding.” Your smile widened, undeterred by your husband’s gruffness. “You need to relax, and I need to check out the sale on the market. We’re going downtown, just for a little bit. Please?”

“No,” he scoffs.

“Come on, Katsuki,” you pleaded. “You’re always working, and I’ve been stuck inside all day. Just a quick trip downtown to relax. Please?” You pouted slightly as you repeated the request, though your tone remained playful, knowing it would chip away at his defenses.

“Can’t we relax here? You know, like normal people?”

“Normal is boring. We can relax after we go out and see the town. Please? I’ll make dinner when we get back!”

Dammit, you knew how to pull at his strings.

Bakugou groaned, tugging at the tight fabric of his jacket. He hated the cold, hated the thought of walking around aimlessly in weather that bit at his skin. But as he looked at you—your hopeful expression, the way your eyes sparkled with the promise of something simple yet special—he sighed, already knowing he couldn’t refuse.

Knowing he’d already lost, he crossed his arms. He’d always had a soft spot for you (you must’ve put a curse on him once he gave you his valid “I do” at the altar, he thinks), and no amount of exhaustion could override the tug in his chest when you looked at him like that.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you’re carrying the hot chocolate if we get any.”

Your grin was instant, and you tugged at his arm. “Deal. Now hurry up and get dressed into something warmer before I change my mind.”

---

The streets of Musutafu were already in the holiday spirit, and it was only the first of December. The glow of streetlights reflected off frosted windows, and the faint scent of roasted chestnuts wafted through the air—it was a scent to appreciate. Bakugou’s hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, his scarf pulled high over his face, as he grumbled every so often about the cold or his aching shoulders.

“This better be worth it,” he grumbled, kicking a stray piece of ice off the sidewalk.

“It is worth it,” you countered, practically skipping beside him. “You’ve been so stressed lately, and this is exactly what you need—some fresh air and a change of scenery.”

“I’d rather have fresh air from our bedroom.”

You shot him a playful glare. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, and you’re a pain,” he shot back, though his lips twitched upward just slightly.

It’s also a good thing that not many were wanting his autograph or a picture because Bakugou was not in the mood to entertain anyone aside from you.

You led him to a small square near the center of town, where festive decorations were strung across trees and lampposts. Children bundled up in cute, thick winter clothes ran around as their fits of giggles filled the air, and vendors sold warm snacks and drinks from cozy stalls. You tugged him toward one of the benches, your excitement bubbling over.

“Look at this place! Isn’t it beautiful?”

Bakugou looked around, taking in the bustling scene. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that it wasn’t half bad—but he’d never say it out loud. Instead, he just shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible to impress.”

“Not true,” he said, smirking slightly. “You impressed me.”

“Ok, sap,” you snorted, though you were quick to hide how it made you feel all giddy. “And did you know that—”

And Bakugou could only listen to you with his brows slightly knitted to an unamused expression, though he didn’t want to burst your bubble even if he was exhausted.

Without even noticing at first, the first snowflake fell, soft and delicate, landing on your scarf. You stopped mid-sentence, glancing up as more began to drift down, tiny, icy kisses from the sky. Bakugou paused too, his eyes narrowing as a flake landed on his nose.

“It’s snowing,” you murmured, a note of wonder in your voice.

Bakugou squinted up at the sky, unimpressed. “Great. Now it’s even colder.”

You ignored him, stepping slightly into the open square, your head tilted back as you let the snowflakes land on your hair and cheeks. Your face lit up with childlike wonder, and for a moment, Bakugou was suddenly reminded how lucky he was to be married to you.

Bakugou watched you silently, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. You looked radiant, the soft glow of the snow reflecting off your skin, your cheeks flushed from the cold. Your lips parted slightly as you caught a snowflake on your tongue, and you laughed softly at the sensation.

His chest tightened, his earlier complaints fading into nothing. The aches, the cold, his uncomfortable winter clothes—none of it mattered. All he saw was you.

You turned back to him, your smile warm and teasing. “You’re just going to stand there and sulk, or are you going to enjoy this with me?”

He huffed, walking toward you. “I’m not sulking,” he muttered.

“Sure, sure.” You reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “Come on, Katsuki. Isn’t this beautiful?”

He looked at you, at the way your eyes shimmered with glee, the way you smiled despite the cold nipping at their noses. “Yeah,” he said softly, surprising even himself. He’s most likely referring to you rather than the scene before him, more likely. “It is.”

“Wait, are you actually admitting you like something?”

“So? I like you, and we’re married. It’s not that shameful to admit the obvious, dummy.” He grumbled, though his hand tightened around yours.

“Not that! I meant it’s snowing; isn’t it beautiful?”

“Could care less about shaved ice falling from the sky.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you stuck your tongue out at him, and Bakugou did the same, which made you laugh.

You two stood there for a while, watching the snow fall around you, the rest of the world fading into the background. For once, Bakugou wasn’t thinking about work, stress, or anything else. All he could focus on was the woman beside him and how, for the first time in a long time, everything felt just right.

And even though Bakugou still hated the cold, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, winter wasn’t so bad after all—because it meant moments like this. Moments with you.

It must’ve been Christmas magic to see you during the first fall of snow, taking his breath away with how you looked, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything this damned world had to offer.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[novulen]

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ : What happens when you almost get caught in the act by your son? Whatever it is, Satoru is unfazed & too pussywhipped to care.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ/ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : 18+ (mdni), riding position, mentions of overstimulating, (princess/ baby) used to adress reader, cock-blocking, fem!reader.

“He’s finally asleep.” Satorou huffs out, tiredly, trudging to his respective side of the bed and immediately tossing himself onto the mattress beside you. You can’t help but softly giggle when he does such dramatic things, acting as if your son had tormented him��though your sweet boy would never do such things.

“C’mere.” he murmurs mindlessly to you, reaching out a long arm before you can even process what he’s said and pulling your form flush to his chest.

His sultry tone already tells you what he wants.

“‘Toru…are you sure he’s sleeping?” you mumble under your breath, scooting closer to your lover and placing a hand worryingly to his cheek. Recollections of the last time Satorou’s antics had almost occurred to your toddler catching you both in the act flood your mind, and you want to do everything in your power to keep that from happening again. But, Satoru, on the other hand, doesn’t seem worried about the circumstances.

“I’m sure, baby,” he promises, almost too quickly. Although you’ve always been one to take him for his word, as unethical as that may sound, and you hesitantly nod in response.

Satoru raises an eyebrow for a second, noticing the uncertainty laced within your eyes.

“We don’t have to, y’know.”

“No—I want to.”

You mask your worry with a honeyed smile, and lean into his lips. It’s almost instinct with the way his body moves to close the gap between your lips, his soft ones colliding messily to yours not a second later.

Satoru moans into the kiss, having found pleasure without even entering you yet. His big hands slide down your torso, lifting you effortlessly on top of him in the process, and find purchase on your hips.

“Mhm, ‘d you lock the door?” you whisper into the kiss, opening your eyes only to find a totally blissed-out Satoru. But, he merely hums, continuing to move his lips unfazed and too deep in the kiss to stop.

The dim light your bedroom lamp provides casts onto your lovers face, giving him a warm, loving glow that —though has quite the opposite effect of warm, and loving—causes your cunt to throb.

“Need to be inside you, princess,” he groans, only pulling away to fill his lungs with the breath you’ve stolen from him, pupils blown wide. And when he’s done, without another word, he’s kissing you again.

Soon enough, with the way he’s grinding his already half-hard cock against your clothed pussy, and the manner in which he’s smothering his lips against yours, you forget what you’d earlier asked.

He, in fact, did not lock the door.

“So fucking needy for you,” he murmurs underneath his breath, softly clamping his teeth down on your lower lip as he pulls back. Satoru takes in the sight before him; you, lips rosy, swollen, and agape, on top of him with nothing but some skimpy sleep shorts and a crop top—it’s almost too good of a sight to behold, he thinks.

“Need you too,”

Your hands are quick to find the hem of his grey sweats, tugging his boxers down alongside his pants just enough for his cock to spring up.

The leaky, pink tip releases a droplet of pre-cum, and your eyes watch attentively as it slides down his sturdy, tan base.

With just one touch, Satoru’s already thrusting up into your hands. “S-shit, don’t do this t’me. Just put it in.” he breaths, azure, blue eyes boring into yours with a stare like never before. It’s compelling in a way, and you find yourself sliding your shorts and panties aside as you position yourself over his shaft.

Rough hands smoothing over your ass, he pushes you down onto the head.

You moan deliciously, your palms flat against his chest once he's fully in. And as much as you'd love to tell him how good this all feels, how he's so deep and snug inside you, all that comes out is a choked cry of his name.

"Shh, y'don't have to say anything, I know it feels good," he hums, wearing a smug grin on his face—knowing he's the one that's got you a babbling mess—cocky as ever. "Just keep riding—fuck, just like that."

You're soon bouncing on his cock, a stream of fat tears rolling down your cheeks, and throat too sore to do anything but whimper.

"Satoru, baby.." you whine, throwing your head back in utter bliss.

"Yeah, princess?"

"You're so deep..."

And Satoru's never felt compelled to outdo himself more than he does now, the thoughts of overstimulating you swarming his head more than he'd like to admit. He groans at your words, and only wants to push himself deeper—deeper until you're crying out his name.

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru...

...But, you're whispering.

"Satoru!" you whisper-shout, finally snapping the frenzied man out of his trance. Both your heads whip to the door, and a panicked-silence falls over the bedroom.

Your heart races as you hear the pitter-patter of small feet stop right in front of the bedroom. “Mama?” your toddler calls out, thankfully knocking on the door before he lets himself in. You’re more than glad he didn’t take after his father when it came to manners.

“I’ll be right there, sweetie!…don’t come in, ok?” And you’re making quick work of tying your silk robe around yourself, though, not much to your surprise, Satoru simply covers himself and watches things unfold.

“Ok..” you cringe at the confusion laced within his cute voice, making your way to the door. “I need to go the bathroom, hurry, mama.”

Your eyebrows bunch together. “You used to go to the bathroom all by yourself, honey, what happened?”

“Papa told me the boogeymen would come get me if i went alone.”

You shoot a deadly clear at Satoru, who happens to be coincidentally ‘sleeping’ at the moment.

But the moment you arrive back, having tucked your son into bed properly this time, he’s awake.

“Baby, I can explain.”

Could he really, though?

Your eyes roll in annoyance, and you get into bed with your robe on, giving him the hint that what had taken place before would not continue.

You face away from him, reveling in the way he’s straight after you, a hand already on your hip.

“So…can we?” he trails off as his hand snakes down, and you feel as if you can see the pout on his face when you push him away.

“No more pussy for you, boogeyman.”

[lewisvinga]

my boss ? | toto wolff x fem! russell! reader

summary; after his divorce with susie, toto swore to have a break from the dating scene. everything changed when george brought his sister to a team event.

warnings; age gap,

word count; 1k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; requested ! not rlly proofread lol

masterlist !

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Since when did Toto have a divorce?” Y/n loudly exclaimed to her younger brother from the living room as she scrolled through Twitter. “And can you hurry up? I finished 20 minutes ago.”

“Like a few months ago. You didn’t know?” George asked, finally appearing from his bedroom. “I’m just fashionably late!”

Y/n snorted as she looked at him. “Okay…” She trails off before returning, “And no I didn’t know. I don’t have sleepovers with your boss.”

“Whatever, you wouldn’t get it!”

“Right…” She mumbled, shutting off her phone and setting it inside her small handbag.

Despite her brother driving for Mercedes for a few years now, Y/n had only met Toto once, which happened to be during her worst moment. It was Silverstone 2022 and she was ecstatic to see her brother race in his home race. She had gotten the cold but was determined to go. So she went but opted for no makeup, a casual loungewear outfit, her Tasman Ugg, and her hair clipped up in a banana clip.

She honestly didn’t care for her appearance. She cared more about being comfortable while sick to support her brother still. If she had known that his hot boss would be there, she might’ve dressed up more.

However, that thought was blown out the window when she found out he was married. The small crush on him always persisted, but it was just a mere crush on someone unattainable so she pushed it to the back of her mind.

Until she saw a tweet revealing that her younger brother's hot boss had divorced his wife.

When George invited his sister to a Mercedes event because Carmen was busy with work, she was ecstatic to make a better impression on the Mercedes team principal. She chose a deep red dress that complimented her skin, her long hair was blown out and diamonds adorned her neck and bracelet. She looked different compared to when she first met him.

Toto immediately noticed Y/n when she walked into the gala with George on her side. She had caught his attention with the way she flipped her hair and laughed at a joke Lewis said.

He remembered when he first met her. She was dressed in sweats and had a nasal voice. Her nose was red from blowing it into a tissue so often but he thought it was cute. He was already having issues with Susie by that point but Y/n managed to catch his attention.

He was chatting with sponsors when George walked up to him with his older sister beside him. “Toto! Fancy seeing you here.” The Mercedes driver says in a teasing tone as the two shook hands.

“Same old, same old.” Toto chuckled, keeping his eyes on the girl beside him. “And Y/n, right?”

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock as her red lips curled into a smile. “Yes! You remembered?” She asked, her voice filled with excitement and curiosity as she shook hands with the older man.

“I’ll never forget such a pretty face.”

His words made her let out a giggle as George held back the urge to gag. “I’m gonna head off, talk to some sponsors, you’ll be alright on your own?” He asks his sister.

“She can stay here with me, it’s fine.”

“I’ll be fine, George.” Y/n smiled and patted George’s shoulder before turning back to the Austrian, “Besides, Toto will keep me company.” Her brother gave her a strange look before excusing himself and leaving to talk to some sponsors leaving her with Toto.

“So, what’re you doing here? With George, I mean.”

“Being a good sister-in-law. and making sure my brother doesn’t get shit-faced at these events because Carmen isn’t here?”

Her response earned her a deep laugh from Toto. He shook his head at her response, his hand tightly wrapped around the cup of scotch. “I understand him, truly. Sometimes these events bore me out of my mind.”

“At least it’s an excuse to dress up.”

“It is. And must I say, you look beautiful tonight.”

Y/n felt her face heat up, mentally thanking the full coverage foundation she wore that covered up her red cheeks. “I-well-“ She stuttered. She clears her throat as she stands up straight, “Thank you. You look rather handsome yourself.”

Fortunately for her, George didn’t bother her the entire night which meant she spent the whole night chatting away with Toto. They immediately had a connection despite the Mercedes team principal being a few years older.

As the evening progressed, neither realized that the venue was now almost empty except for a few people. They were so distracted by each other and by the alcohol in their system that they failed to notice when people began to leave.

Y/n looked around with a laugh at the empty venue. She noticed George by the entrance with his arms crossed, signaling to her with his eyes that he wanted to leave. “I guess this is my sign to leave.”

“Actually, Y/n,” Toto’s deep accented voice interrupted her before she could say anything. She hummed in response as she noticed him pulling his phone out. “I’d like to carry our conversation another time. Perhaps over dinner?” He suggested with a smile, going to the contact app on his phone and showing it to her.

She couldn’t help but smile widely as she took the phone from his hands. She typed her phone number in and even took a picture to add under her contact. “Well, Toto, I’ll be looking forward to continuing our conversation.”

With a sudden boost of confidence, Y/n stood on her tiptoes to plant a quick yet gentle kiss on Toto’s cheek. She smiled when her lipstick left behind a red stain on his cheek. She quickly turned around and walked to George, making sure to keep her posture straight and not daring to look back.

George, who saw it all happen, had a look of disgust on his face as she dragged him out of the venue. “My boss? Out of all people, you fancy my boss?” He asked in disbelief as they made their way out to the parking lot.

Y/n sighed and playfully rolled her eyes, “Oh, shut it, George. Besides, he’s hot and single now.”

“Gross! That’s my boss! Really, Y/n?!”

“Really, George.”

[thebigbadbatswife]

Bruce Wayne who has a habit for entering the room you're in and sweeping you off of your feet. Doesn't say anything, no hello or how are you, just effortlessly lifts you up and gets you to wrap your legs around his body. His lips meet yours in a passionate and hungry kiss, almost like he's drowning and your lips are oxygen.

You rarely ever make it to the master bedroom. Bruce preferring to find any suitable surface nearby and laying you on it (or occasionally bending you over it) and then ripping your clothes off. He doesn't care if someone walks in on the two of you. This is his house, after all, and he will fuck you where he pleases to. And any thoughts you have on it flee your mind when he's finally filling you up with his cock, both of you moaning loudly enough that it surely echoes around the manor, as your cunt squeezes around his cock.

He wastes no time drilling into you. The feet of the table scraping against the hardwood floor with each hard thrust that steals the very air from your lungs. The kisses pressed to your body are wet and messy and everywhere, Bruce unable to focus his attention on just one part of you, his mind completely overcome by the feeling of the heat of your cunt wrapped around him.

Your body grips him like a vice, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you cum. The feeling of your orgasm is too much for him, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your waist, bruising you, as he moans against your skin, head coming to rest in the valley of your breasts as his hips stutter. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you as he spills his release deep inside of your pussy.

He stays still for a moment, panting hard, before lifting himself off of you and slowly pulling out. Once neatly styled hair falls in front of his eyes as he takes in the sight of where the mixture of yours and his fluids drip from your puffy pussy, making a mess on the table beneath you. Before you can become self-conscious from the way he's staring, his eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide, and he smiles.

"Are you up for round two?"

[beeschmee]

all part of the colonel's plan

⊹ ࣪ ˖ word count: 7.5k

⊹ ࣪ ˖ p a i r i ng: farspace fleet colonel caleb x mc

⊹ ࣪ ˖ summary: your mission was simple: sneak into skyhaven and escape with the final aether core fragment, right under the farspace fleet's nose. you weren't prepared to fall right into a trap created by the fleet's new colonel.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ t a g s: mdni, explicit sexual content, fem! reader, jealous! caleb, unprotected sex, light bondage, dry humping, orgasm denial, inappropriate use of evol, biting, pet names, cunnilingus, p in v, breeding, light praise

⊹ ࣪ ˖ n o t e: hii guys! the brainrot for this man is unreal, and i just needed to write something, so i hope you enjoy~ not proofread so enjoy the chaos! thanks for reading 𖹭 ao3. banner: me. dividers: cred

When you accepted the mission to search for a lead on the aether core, you hadn’t expected it to be easy. Skyhaven was new territory for you and your information on the Farspace Fleet was few and far in-between. Yet, when you ran into that frazzled cadet, it was like candy falling into your lap.

Her uniform was snug against your body as you flattened out any wrinkles that appeared during the change. The girl barely could barely thank you before darting off into an alley. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You saw your fair share of scared recruits during your time in the academy.

Placing the uniform cap on your head, you take a deep breath before heading towards the crime scene tape on the other side of the street. The smell of ash and burning wood fill your nostrils as you get closer to the decimated property. A similar memory flashes in your mind, threatening to pull you back below its depth, but you push forward. Now cannot be the time to falter.

You stop in front of a commanding officer and salute them, waiting for their nod before ducking under the tape. The breath you were holding loosens from your lungs as you approach the remains of the house in front of you. You refuse to let your eyes linger on the charred front patio, pulling your cap further down your head to block your view of it as you pass.

Focusing on the task at hand, you head towards the backyard. Near the pool, you can sense something pulling you to the bushes. The feeling is faint but unmistakable.

You nod to fellow cadets and officers as you pass. The air is filled with chatter and commands thrown around, causing further chaos, as the fleet is trying to balance an investigation and the return of their Colonel at the same time. The distraction is much appreciated.

You crouch before the bushes, reaching into the vines to search for the presence pulling you in. Thorns scrape against the exposed flesh of your wrist, drawing tiny pinpoints of blood to the surface. You wince as you lean further in, grasping at air. The further you look for this presence, the less you feel it. A frustrated sigh escapes from your lips.

“Is there a problem, Cadet?” A masculine voice speaks up behind you.

You jolt to your feet, ignoring the pain of the thorns trying to hold onto you. The man in front of you is older, probably in his late 40s, and is looking at you with all the contempt in the world.

“No, sir.” You shake your head, then gesture to the bush behind you. “I was looking for any additional evidence that may have been blown back by the explosion.”

The man doesn’t even blink as he stares down at you. You bite your tongue to stop you from rambling off useless lies. He doesn’t trust you, that much you can tell. Yet, he simply nods his head after a few more seconds of silence.

“Carry on, Cadet. This area needs to be cleared within the hour. It’s set to rain soon.”

You swiftly nod your head, holding onto the cap so it doesn’t fly off. The officer scoffs at the notion and walks away, immediately yelling similar orders to the other officials by the house. Once you feel comfortable that he won’t turn back around, you continue your search amongst the foliage. The presence from before is faint, almost nonexistent, and the fear of failure starts to creep along the edges of your mind.

Bending your knees into a squat, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Even if the aether core isn’t here, it’s close by. It has to be.

Opening your eyes, you reach your hand out to part the branches to look further into the bushes. You’re leaning forward to examine the area when a blunt force slams into the back of your head. The air rushes from your lungs and a ringing drills into your ears before darkness takes over.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Memories of gentle laughter and playful fighting war against the sounds of crashing waves as you wave in and out of consciousness. The world feels as though it is spinning. Your head is splitting apart, pain rippling from the back of your skull to your temples. As you come to, your head refuses to lift up, the muscles in your neck sore and locked in place.

It takes an unreasonable amount of strength to pry your eyes open. Even with the little amount of light in the room, you can’t help but squint against the pain. Everything is blurry no matter how much you blink. You try to reach up and rub your eyes, but your hands won’t move. They can’t move.

You’re cuffed to the chair you’re in.

Panic quickly starts to creep in as you take in your situation. You wiggle your feet, only to find them just as restrained as your hands. Pulling your hands against the metal band holding you down, you flinch at the persistent stinging from the cuts on your wrist. A whimper escapes through your clenched teeth as your wrist jams against the restraint, unable to squeeze through.

Somewhere behind the chair, you hear a door open. Your body stiffens as the realization of your situation sets in. You’re trapped.

“I’d be careful. You don’t want to break those slender wrists, would you?” A voice from behind you asks.

In your semi-conscious state, something about that voice prickles the hairs on the back of your neck. Despite the person’s warning, you continue struggling against the metal bands, trying to figure out a trick to get out. Heavy footsteps echo throughout the dark room, leisurely approaching you.

“Persistent as always,” the voice mutters, your ears barely catching the words.

One more useless tug and you resign from the meaningless action. You’re thoroughly stuck. It doesn’t help that your head feels like a ton of bricks and then some. The tension of your position is surely causing knots to form all along your shoulder and back.

The person takes another 10 steps, you count. There’s silence for a long moment and then the sound of a heavy fabric bristling. The feeling of warm air on the side of your cheek causes you to flinch, jerking away from the sudden sensation. They let out a seemingly exasperated sigh before the warmth leaves you, their body pulling back.

“I’d say that I’m surprised to find a traitor in our midst.” The voice states louder. “But, I made it so easy for you. I’m almost disappointed by how easy you fell for my trap. I mean, come on. Wasn’t that incident almost too familiar?”

The ringing in your ear fades away as you focus on the voice now positioned in front of you. A voice that has your heart lurching into your throat, threatening to spill out. It can’t be.

The footsteps resume and you listen to how they reposition behind you. Their warmth radiates on your back. They’re too close.

Suddenly, two leathered hands run over your shoulder toward your neck. You try to yank away from their touch, but they have you caged in. Something cold slides against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as it circles your throat. Click.

“A perfect fit.” The voice is quiet, as if they’re talking to themself.

There’s a boyish lilt to the deep voice that causes an ache in your chest. Your brain is arguing with what your heart realizes all too fast. Memories of that same voice, but lighter and more carefree, echo in your mind. Your hands clench against the armrests, trying to grind yourself to reality. A corpse can’t speak.

One of the hands leaves your neck, lightly tracing a path down to your shoulder before dropping away. The other lets the metal band rest against the base of your neck before wrapping your throat. The leather material is rough against your skin. Your body breaks out into a cold sweat as it tightens ever so slightly against your windpipe.

Slowly, your head is being pulled up. Pain pulses across your skull to your spine as the person behind you straightens your posture. Their thumb and index finger move up slightly until they’re pushing up your jaw, forcing your head up.

You try to take in the room as your position changes, but your gaze halts at the view in front of you. Across the room is a glass wall. You stare back at yourself in the one-way glass as your vision clears up. Whether it be fear or denial, you almost want to beg the hand to let you go, to let your chin fall back against your chest, so that you don’t have to look.

But, you were always a curious one.

Your eyes adjust to the darkness and take in the sight of the hand wrapped around your throat. It tightens just a little bit more, restricting your airway enough to make your brain feel fuzzy.

“You always did like to make me wait, pipsqueak.”

With that damning admission, your pulse rages against his fingers. Your eyes flick up to the reflection of the person, the world freezing around you.

A dead man stands behind you. His finger taps against your pulse as he smiles at you. Never losing eye contact, he leans down until his lips are grazing the shell of your right ear.

“Did you miss me?” Goosebumps raise all over your body.

“Caleb.” Your voice is raspy and the sounds get stuck in your throat, threatening to choke you.

“The one and only.” He presses a light kiss to your temple.

He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t explain how he’s standing in front of you. Your world as you know it is cracking and crashing around you, and he’s just there. Tears spring up faster than you can force them away. They pool in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision of the living ghost behind you.

Caleb steps back around, clicking his tongue in disapproval as he wipes the tears from your eyes. You flinch at how cold his hands are; the sensation shocking you. “Now, now, pips. I expected a big hug from you when I imagined this moment.”

His words betray his actions as he crouches in front of you, his hands tracing the skin around the restraints. He doesn’t move to release you from them. A laugh bubbles up and escapes your lips as you take in this foreign version of your best friend. Gone is the childish Caleb you knew so well. This man may look like him, but the energy around him is suffocating. Harsh lines decorate his face and his smile doesn’t reach his dim purple eyes.

“Hard to hug a dead man when you’re chained to a chair.”

His thumb digs into your wrist for a brief moment, the pain jolting up your arm. He shakes his head.

“I see you haven’t lost that attitude of yours, princess.” The pet name drips off his tongue condescendingly. “That’s okay. It’s to be expected since I’ve been gone for so long. There was no one around to work it out of you. But, I’m here now.”

“And how are you here, exactly?” You lean forward, sneering at the man. “Last I checked, you should be 6 feet under in Linkon Cemetery.”

“I know it’s all confusing now, and I don’t expect you to understand. Not yet. But, aren’t you happy? Your “big brother” is back.”

You spit in his face. His facade drops ever so slightly. Reaching up, his thumb wipes it off his cheekbone. With eyes never leaving yours, he licks the dribbling spit off his gloved appendage. A groan slips past his lips. The sight has butterflies blooming deep in your stomach.

“Gentle, pips. There’s more than one pair of eyes watching us right now.”

Your eyes dart to the camera mounted on the wall behind him, a red light blinking next to the lens. You gulp at the thought of others witnessing this moment, praying there is no audio. He has to hold back the grin from forming as he watches you frantically think of the Fleet watching you both. The cameras are only accessible by him, but you don’t need to know that. He loves the way it makes you fidget in the chair.

“Now, are you going to be a good girl?”

Eyes glaring daggers into his, his hands land on your thighs, squeezing the plump flesh. His touch is cold against your warm and clammy skin. The look in his eyes daring you to go against him, to act up, to defy. It’s dangerous, he’s dangerous.

His fingers move up, pushing the fabric of your skirt with it, all the while he watches you. He sees the way your pupils dilate, the way the pulse in your neck quickens. He feels your thighs twitch, moving to squeeze together, but his grip prevents you from denying him. All the while, the fabric of your panties grows damp at his roughness.

Higher now, the tips of his thumbs start to fall into the crevice between your thighs and hips, and he almost moans at the way your skin pillows around his hands. That’s not what does him in though. Before you can protest and ask him to move away, his thumbs graze the outskirts of lace frill. Lace that is wet and stuck to your skin. His head drops into your lap, his breath quickening.

“Fuck, pips.” He traces his fingers along the edge of the fabric as he pants into the side of your left thigh, nipping at the skin to prevent another moan from leaving his lips. You gasp at the sensations, your body trying to curl in on itself but the restraints prevent you. “You are my undoing.”

“Caleb.” The sound of his name whimpering out of those plush lips has his cock twitching in his slacks.

“What is it, my love?” His hot breath is torture against your trembling skin.

His fingers are still tracing the edges of your panties, back and forth and back and forth, never giving you what you need. Your pulse throbs heavily in your clit as you clench around nothing. You can feel yourself growing wetter at his ministrations and the thought is mortifying.

Yet, something about the way he looks both dominating yet pathetic with his head in your lap has you unraveling. Years of desires that were so tightly locked away come flooding to the surface and it feels dirty, sinful even. None of it matters anymore. No reasoning could stop this from happening… and maybe, this was always where you were meant to land.

Right in the palm of his hand.

His head tilts in your lap, his soft hair tickling you. Purple eyes stare up into yours, begging for the words to leave your mouth. Yet, the hint of darkness glinting behind it lets you know he won’t wait long. You're his for the taking.

You nod your head at him and he smirks.

“Ah-ah,” he scolds, nipping at your inner thigh harder this time, leaving a light bite mark. “Use your words.”

Rouge scatters across your cheeks, ears, and neck in shame and lust. Tilting your head to the side, averting your gaze, you whisper, “Please touch me.”

Fingers ghost over the top of your fabric, pressing gently into your mound, the fabric pushing into your folds. The feeling has your brain short circuiting. It’s still not enough.

“You have to be more specific, love. I’m already touching you.”

His face moves up higher, kissing a trail up your thighs until his nose reaches his finger, replacing it. His hands move up higher, grasping the panties resting on your hips and pulling them up higher, causing the fabric to dig in deeper. A pathetic moan ripples out your lips.

“Where do you want to be touched?” His nose moves, pushing into your throbbing clit.

“There. Please, Caleb.”

He wants to tease you more. He wants you tied to this chair, begging for his touch, tears streaming down your face from the edging and denial. He wants you to want him as desperately as he needs you. But, the sound of his name so needy on your tongue has him saving his plans for another day. Oh how easily he folds for you.

“You always get what you want, don’t you?” His tone is sarcastic, but he doesn’t deny you any longer.

Fabrics is pushed to the side and the feeling of his skin on yours has you twitching in the chair, your hands gripping the armrest. His tongue swipes through your folds, flicking your clit before diving into your pussy like a man starved. The sounds escaping your mouth are foreign to you, but so is the pleasure burning its way across your body.

Caleb is relentless in his pursuit for your orgasm. He alternates between lavishing your hole, moaning at the way your walls pathetically clench around him, and abusing your clit with bites and sucking. It’s all too much for you. The pressure building within you is lightning fast. You bite down on your lip to prevent the moans from escaping, but that angers Caleb.

One hand leaves your thigh and pulls your bottom lip out from between your teeth, replacing it with two fingers. He presses down on your tongue, your mouth opening with the force.

“Don’t,” is all he mutters against you before returning to his feast.

His other hand moves down until his index finger ghosts your entrance. He traces around and over it lightly, never truly giving you what you want. Meanwhile, the fingers in your mouth play with your tongue as you moan around them.

Suddenly, his index finger catches on your entrance and he slowly sinks into you. You bite down on his fingers, whimpering at the intrusion you desperately needed. He wanted to go slow with you. Truly, he did.

But the way you clench around him has him seeing stars. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger, relishing in the way you accept him smoothly. He presses in until the palm of his hand rests against your clit. The sounds your pussy is making has him grinning ferally.

Lifting his head, he gazes at the glazed out look in your eyes. A look he’s seen only a few times before when he happened to check his monitors and you were fucking some other guy in your room. He’d almost stormed to your place that night to kill the man. He’d only been gone for a month and you’d given yourself to someone else. Your first time. The jealousy bubbles within him even now.

His hand suddenly starts rocking back and forth, his palm grinding harshly against your clit. The sensation has you tearing apart at the seams. Stars flicker in the corners of your eye as you feel yourself approaching the edge of a dangerous cliff. His name rambles off your tongue like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby girl.” His tone sounds mocking, but you can barely process that over the pleasure coursing through your body. “Cum on my hand.”

He’s resting on his heels now, watching you fall apart right before his eyes. Your knuckles are white against the armrest, your thighs twitching, and your mouth suckling on his fingers through broken moans. He curls his fingers up right as he sees you inhale, finger tips grazing a spot you’d never touched before. A spot no one had touched before.

A wave crashes through you, dragging you under, as an orgasm rips through you. Caleb doesn’t falter, working a third finger in at the same time you cum. The sensation has tears bubbling in your eyes, a sob escaping your lips. He works you through your orgasm flawlessly, while building up another one at the same time. It’s overwhelming.

Caleb removes his fingers from your mouth, trailing down to your neck, grasping it within his hands. Fingers press into the sides, your head feeling light at the restricted blood flow. Your eyes find him, trying to ground yourself in the storm of pleasure.

His fingers leave you right as you're about to cum again, the denial harsh. Before you can beg the colonel before you to continue, his fingers reach his lips. You watch silently as he sucks on his fingers, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight is obscene and filthy, and you’re enthralled.

Once he’s done sucking every last drop of you off his tongue, he stands up, towering over you. The grip on your throat moves to your cheeks, pushing them together. “Open up,” he demands.

Even if you wanted to defy him, his hands force your lips to part and your head to tilt up to his. He leans down until his face is above yours, eyes boring into yours as his mouth opens. Your cum and his spit gathers in his mouth before he spits it into yours.

“Swallow.” And, you do. Your tongue swipes across your lips to make sure you didn’t miss a drop before opening your mouth, proving to him that you’d followed his orders. His hand taps the side of your cheek. “What a good girl you are.”

Suddenly, there’s a beeping sound echoing in the room and the pressure around your wrists and ankles releases. You’re unchained. You could try to make a run for it, but you don’t want to. Not anymore. He’d only chase you, punish you. The thought is actually tempting. But, what if he didn’t? What if you ran and he let you? Would you ever see him again? You’d only just gotten him back and the thought of losing him for a second time is inconceivable.

Caleb watches your inner turmoil for a brief second, loving the way you look torn apart. In your moment of distraction, he lifts you up from the chair. Your hands wrap around his neck for balance as your world shifts around you. He turns around before seating himself on the chair, placing you right on top of his lap, your thighs on either side of his. Grabbing your hips, he pulls you down until you’re fully seated against the bulge in his slacks.

Your eyes whip to his his as you feel him twitching beneath you. His head rests against the back of the chair lazily, a smirk gracing his lips.

“I’m all yours, pipsqueak.” His fingers dig into the groove of your hips. “Aren’t you going to punish me?”

He moves your hips forward, grinding you down onto his cock. Biting down on his lip, he groans at the feeling of the wetness seeping into the fabric of his pants. Your hands rest on his shoulders to balance yourself, falling into the motions of grinding atop him.

You wanted to respond to him. You wanted to yell how angry and hurt you were at him, but your mind blanks out at the sensation of another orgasm building within you. Your head falls to his shoulder, your lips grazing the skin of his neck above his jacket collar. Sweet moans and gasps fall from your lips, warming his heart.

His hands move from your hips, which never falter in their dry humping, and grasp the bottom of your shirt. He peels it up from your body, his head nudging yours so you lift it. Once the fabric is free from your body he tosses it to the side, his hands immediately unclipping the bra and tearing it off you.

If angels were real, you had to be one and he could only pray that staring directly at your heavenliness wouldn’t kill him. He’d dedicate his life to you, bruise his knees in nightly worship at your feet, if it meant you’d stay here, right in his unworthy arms.

Gently, as if not to scare you, his hands ghost your skin. The feeling has your nipples pebbling and goosebumps raising all over. Gods, waiting this long to have you was his punishment.

His hands explore your body, fondling your boobs, gripping your hips, smacking your ass, as you greedily grind down on him, using him for your pleasure. You feel like teenagers in heat as you both explore each other.

But, it’s not enough, and you both soon realize that as your moans turn into frustrated whimpers as your orgasm rests just below the surface.

You sit up, your hips circling his lap, tears in your eyes and the tiniest bit of drool on the corner of your lips. Caleb wants to photograph you just like this: drunk from his touch on his lap. He nods at the way your eyes plead with him, his name babbling out of your lips.

One of his hands traces up to the back of your head and gently grips your hair in his grasp. The other moves to rest at the top of his zipper, his thumb presses against your clit as you move. You're greedy in the way you start to chase your pleasure against his hand now, ignoring his throbbing cock. Right as the tension is about to burst out of you, you’re lifted off his lap.

The energy wrapped around you has you feeling weightless as your head whips down to the man right below you, anger simmering in your blood. A tear drips from your eye and lands on the corner of his cheek, his tongue swipes it.

“You’ve always been so cute when you’re angry. But, you need to know your place, pips.”

“Put me down right this instant, Caleb.” Your voice sounds foreign to you, raspy and breathless.

Laughing at your pitiful excuse to demand him, he unzips his pants. Your eyes immediately dart to the movement, any more arguments dying on your lips. He palms himself over his boxers for a moment, relishing the hungry look in your eyes.

“What if I like you up there?” Suddenly there’s a bit of pressure against your clit and then you feel your panties tear away from your body, the fabric burning against your skin as it quickly rips. The cold air has you twitching above him, and he’s given a beautiful view of your dripping pussy.

Without breaking eye contact from your beautiful mound, he frees himself from his boxers, his dick standing against his stomach as his hand wraps around it. For as long as you’d lived together in the past, you’d never seen this part of him. He always made sure never to expose himself to you, no matter how many times he’d seen you naked over the years. It had bothered you on endless nights where you tried chasing your pleasure in between his sheets while he wasn’t home, inhaling his scent on his pillow, imagining his cock rubbing against your clit instead of your untrained fingers.

You’re enthralled with the veins that adorn his thick cock as they trace up to a pink tip that has you gulping. Could you fit him? Sure, you’d been with well-endowed men in the past but Caleb was a different breed. Where most men excel in either length or girth, he is blessed with both. Maybe even cursed, depending on how this goes.

His hand pumps up and down his shaft as he stares at your exposed pussy while you sit in your rambling thoughts. Tiny groans escape his lips as he clenches the base of his shaft, holding his pleasure at bay, his balls twitching. He can’t cum yet, not when he’d prepared you so well.

“Caleb.” Your breathy voice breaks him out of his daze, eyes darting to yours. “Put me down.”

The venom in your voice is gone, replaced with a sweetness that has his teeth rotting. He can’t ever say no to you at the end of the day, no matter how hard he tries. It’d always been this way. He could only resist and deny you for so long before you won in the end.

The energy around you shifts, bringing you down the few feet to meet his body, but not fully releasing you. The tip of his cock grazes against your folds. But, he did love to make sure you deserved your win, and you hadn’t yet.

Frustration burns across your body as Caleb toys with you, dragging his cock through your folds and rubbing against your clit. He repeats the motion a few times until you’re whimpering above him, your eyes burning holes into his skin. His cock catches on your entrance for a second, knocking the air out of your lungs at the feeling, before it slips out and through your folds. “Caleb,” you warn.

The colonel doesn’t even look up at you, he’s too mesmerized by how you’re dripping onto his cock, his hand rubbing your cum across the smooth skin of his shaft. Your warning falls on deaf ears as he catches his cock on your hole one more time, groaning at the way your entrance tries to clench onto him and drag him in, but you’re not close enough.

He needs your pussy weeping for me. He needs you crying for him.

It’s torture as he dangles you just out of his reach, building your orgasm up with the tip of his cock and sometimes his fingers when you beg. The edging and denial is overstimulating. The air in the room is suffocatingly hot. Your skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“I-” Your voice breaks into a moan when his fingers ghost over your clit. “I need you.”

There it is.

“Am I not giving you enough, my love?”

His cock settles at your entrance, this time not moving. The feeling has you writhing in his gravitational hold. You shake your head, words failing you as tears blur your vision. The frustration is painful.

“You’ve always been so greedy.” Your body starts to inch slowly down until the tip of his cock rests within, the feeling making you delirious as a moan rips through you.

“Always such a needy little brat.” His words are harsh and his evol raises you up until his cock is resting just at your entrance again.

Blood rushes through your ear as your walls clench around nothing yet again, the pulse in your clit threatening to tear you apart from the pain.

“Pushing me around all these years.” You sink down again, your breath stuttering, but he’s pulled you up again before you can even cherish the feeling of him. “Do you know how that has made me feel?”

“I’m sorry,” you choke out as a sob racks your body, tears spilling from your eyes. You want to rip your skin apart to rid yourself of this burning sensation. “Caleb, please.”

It’s not enough. Not yet.

“Please what, pipsqueak? Use your words. You’ve used them so well in the past to hurt me.” He sinks you down again, waiting this time to see if you will be punished or rewarded.

“Forgive me.” He tsks, almost pulling you off him before words begin rambling out of your mouth on a broken sob. “Fuck me. Please, just take me. Use me. I need it. Caleb. I’m sorry, please. Cal-”

Gravity rushes back through your body and suddenly your hips are flush to Caleb’s, his cock pushing through you with little resistance until he’s fully sheathed in your warmth. It takes the strength of gods to hold his orgasm back and not empty his cum into your deliriously hot pussy. The air is ripped from your lungs and you forget how to breathe as an orgasm rips through you at the pain and pleasure of his cock throbbing against your tight walls.

You almost lose consciousness at the absolute power of your orgasm. Lightning shoots across your body, zapping every nerve until you’ve turned to jello in his hold. Caleb’s hand rests on your abdomen, his thumb stroking over the bulge where his cock rests within you, filling you up more than you’d ever been in your life. The added pressure of his hand against your stomach has you keeling over, the air rushing back into your lungs right before you pass out.

Caleb waits for you to get used to him. He’s patient. He knows that you’re stretched thin. He knows that your body can take him, but that it’s not easy. He knows it in the way your pussy grips him like a vice, threatening to break him off at the base, yet pull him in at the same time.

When your breathing returns to normal is when he moves, grabbing your hips and grinding you against him at first. The movement has you circling on his cock, but you need more. Your hands grip his shoulders as you raise your head up to meet his eyes, and the look of him has your heart melting.

He’s looking at you as if you crafted the world with your bare hands and gave it to him. The purple of his eyes is almost gone and the smile on his lips is soft. He looks like the Caleb you know again. The soft Caleb who made sure you were taken care of and went to sleep happy every night. It has you returning the smile and his hips jolt up into you at the sight.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers before lifting you up by your hips, his cock slowly dragging out of your walls, the feeling making you dizzy. “I missed that smile.”

With that, Caleb’s restraint is gone. He drops you onto his cock once more, rutting up to meet your hips, his cock kissing your cervix. Moans rolls out of you like music to his as he fucks into with reckless abandon. You may be on top, but his tight grip controls every single movement.

His head falls into the crook of your neck, biting down hard when you clench around him as your third orgasm surprises the both of you. His tongue swipes against the mark, soothing the pain he’d caused. “Such a tight pussy, baby. All for me.”

“Yes, sir. All for you.”

Oh, the submission in your voice and body has him seeing stars. Somehow, his cock grows harder within you, the feeling causing you to whimper, looking at him with the most needy eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “Fuck me,” he whispers.

Grabbing your ass firmly with both hands, he stands up. You sink even deeper onto him with this new angle, your eyes rolling back as his cock presses harshly against your cervix and sits there. He turns you both around until you’re facing the chair. Lifting you off of him, you moan at the empty feeling as he slips out of you.

“Shhhh, be good for me.” He kisses you as one hand releases you to return with a sharp smack against your ass.

His hands move expertly as he turns you around in his hold until your back is against his chest, his cock slipping between your thighs. You tighten them until his cock is firmly cocooned between your plushy skin. His teeth bite into the shell of your ear as he retracts his hips, pulling himself free from your seductive hold as he places you on your knees in the chair.

“Grab the armrests, would you please baby?” He asks sweetly, his tongue swiping the inside of your ear, causing you to shiver.

You do as he asks, regaining your balance. You grip the metal of the chair, holding on as his hands rub down your arms. Caleb peppers across your neck and back, causing you to giggle at the sensation. You press back into him, your ass rubbing against his cock.

Click.

Cold metal snaps against your wrists, binding you back to the chair like before. You try to turn and look at the man behind you, angry that he’d lock you up as before, but his hand at your throat stops you. His fingers wrap around the collar you’d forgotten about.

“Can’t you just fuck me like a normal person.”

You’re mad again and he loves the way your eyebrows furrow.

“Bold of you to assume I’m normal, pips. I thought we established,” he whispers into your ear as his cock pushes into you from behind, your pussy resisting him a little with this new angle, “I am anything but that.”

His words end with a sharp thrust of his hips, his skin slapping against your ass. He doesn’t wait for you this time, his pace is relentless as he drives into you, chasing both his pleasure and yours. You lean forward from the movement, your chest pressed against the cold metal of the chair as he fucks into you.

All you can feel is the addicting feeling of him moving inside you, pressing against a spot that has you moaning his name with every thrust. He’s no more put together than you. Sweat drips down his face, his hair sticking to his skin as he watches the way his cock disappears into you and how your pussy holds onto him when he pulls out. It’s a sight he’s imagined countless times over the years, but experiencing it is otherworldly.

You're falling against the chair now, the arch in your back giving out as your strength fades. Caleb can’t have that. His hand at your throat moves to the back of your neck and grips the collar. He leans back, using every ounce of self-restraint to remove his body from your back. When he pulls the collar back towards him, you raise up, your back arching, moans choking at the pressure the collar has added on your throat. You can still breathe, he’s evol is holding the rest of your weight slightly up so the collar doesn’t choke you out.

“A normal person wouldn’t fuck you like this.”

He’s thrusting into you again. With every push in, he pulls the collar tighter, making your body meet him. His free hand slaps your ass before rubbing the red mark away. You yelp at the pain, and relish the delicious way he soothes it.

“But, you wouldn’t want to be fucked normally.”

Your mind is in the clouds as his presence surrounds you: his scent, his body, his evol, his touch, everything. You aren’t sure where you end, and he begins as he rhythmically fucks into you. Every few moments, he slows down, making sure you can truly feel him.

“None of those other boys could make you cum.” He spits out the words angrily, his hand spanking you once more before smoothing your skin. “Do you know how hard I had to hold myself back so I didn’t barge into your room and finish the job myself?”

You should be embarrassed that he knows such things, should be terrified of how he even knows that, but his fingers find your clit and your sobbing at the overwhelming sensation of Caleb.

“You should’ve done it.” Your words are barely comprehensible over the sound of skin slapping against each other and your moans within this room, but he hears you all the same.

His hand leaves the collar and wraps around your throat, bringing himself flush against your back as he ruts shallowly into you, his orgasm quickly approaching.

“Yeah? You would’ve liked that, brat? Have your best friend clean up those assholes’ mess and replace it with his own?”

Your head falls against his shoulder, your lips kissing the skin behind his ear as you moan at the thought of him doing that all those years ago.

“They didn’t deserve to cum in this pussy. They weren’t worthy of you.” His fingers tighten and your head grows light at the pressure of his hand at your throat and clit. “That’s okay though. I’ll wash you clean of their filth. I’ll make sure no one touches you ever again.”

You’re at his mercy as he skillfully fucks in and out of you, his fingers rubbing delicious circles around your clit. There’d never been another time in your life where you’d felt this much pleasure and you fall into its embrace willingly. As your breath quickens and becomes choppy as your orgasm approaches, Caleb whispers filthy praises into your ear before grabbing your chin and tilting your head towards him.

You open your eyes briefly to look at how absolutely drunk off you he looks. You stretch up, your hands pulling at the restraints, and kiss him. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated as you both moan into the other, tongue and teeth battling for dominance when they can. His hips stutter, losing rhythm and you know he’s close. So are you with his hand between your thighs.

“Can I?” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but you know what he wants.

“Yes.” Your consent rips away whatever restraint he thought he had left.

All he can think of is filling your pretty pussy up with his cum until your stomach is full and bloated with it, with him. He’ll fill you up nice and good and make sure you don’t waste a drop. After today, he’ll make sure you leave the house, when he lets you, with his cum dampening your panties. He needs you full of him.

His fingers work you into your next orgasm smoothly, that it’s arrival has you melting into his hold. Warmth spreads across your body in waves as his orgasm rips through him like an earthquake. His hand moves away from your clit, sparing it from oversensitivity for today, and further down until it’s cupped around your mound, his dick slotted between his fingers.

The extra feeling of his hand around his dick and your cream pooling around his fingers and base of his cock has his eyes rolling back. His cum floods into you in thick bursts, the hot fluid covering your wall as his head falls onto your shoulder.

He’s moaning your name like it’s a prayer as he rides out his orgasm slowly, relishing the way your walls try to milk more out of him. If he could, he’d stay seated here forever, with you in his arms and wrapped around his cock. But, the Fleet will need this room at some point and the thought of such trivial humans seeing you like this has him seething.

The restraints around your wrists release you and one of your arms raises up to hug Caleb’s head and pull him closer into you. He peppers your eyes and cheek with soft kisses, cleaning your face of sweat and tears, as he pulls out of you. The feeling is awkward as the cum rushes to drip out of you.

Caleb’s fingers join back together once he’s fully out of you and he cups you tightly, making sure not a drop spills out. He grins against your neck as he nuzzles into it, proud of the way your pussy is pulsing against his hand.

“Can’t have you wasting my cum after you worked so hard for it, now can we?” His tone is mocking, but he kisses you softly nonetheless.

A group of cadets walk past the door, their voices filling the empty room, and Caleb can’t help loving the way you tense up, scared to be caught by such runts. Your pulse quickens under his lips, and he kisses it to soothe you.

“Let’s get you home so I can clean you up, okay?” His eyes travel across your torn panties and dirty clothes on the ground, before he hands you his jacket. Your fingertips touch as you take the jacket from him, and he grabs your wrist. His head leans down to brush his lips across the top of your hand before letting go. “Put that on, Princess. I don’t want anyone seeing you like that. That’s only for my eyes.”

Caleb’s wink has you shoving his shoulder before wrapping yourself up in his large jacket. Once closed, it fully covers you up and Caleb can’t help the way his cock hardens at the way you look in his colonel coat. He sweeps you up into his arm bridal style before his cock comes up with other ideas.

Your hands wrap around his neck, fingertips messing with the short hairs at his nape.

“Who's taking me home? The Colonel or my best friend?” You try to ask teasingly but the worry and sadness seeps into your tone.

His gaze softens as a regretful smile graces his handsome face.

“Hopefully, just Caleb.”

You don’t say anything further. Not now. The moment is too raw, emotions too high. For now, you want to relish in his warmth and devotion, everything else can be worried about tomorrow. Today, you have the love of your life back and that’s enough.

He’s enough.

[fixingtheon]

⟡ - can’t get enough of you - 성화

bf!seonghwa x afab!reader

you guys this is a smut so if you are a minor this is your queue to click off ⚠️

word count: 874

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Seonghwa’s lips stayed latched onto your core, his tongue working in expert motions as he devoured you like a man starved. His nose deliberately pressed against your swollen clit, adding to the overwhelming pleasure that had already rendered you breathless. He wasn’t satisfied with making you come just once—no, that wasn’t enough for him. He needed to push you further, to see how many times he could unravel you completely.

You had already come twice, but Seonghwa wasn’t done. His tongue worked you open again, flicking and curling against your sensitive folds, each stroke sending a fresh wave of heat through your trembling body.

“Come on, angel, just one more,” he murmured against you, his voice thick with hunger, his hands gripping the sides of your shaking thighs to keep you steady. His dark, lust-blown eyes peered up through his lashes, watching your every reaction as he fucked his tongue into you, desperate to pull another orgasm from you.

You couldn’t even form words, your mind too fogged over from the relentless pleasure. Instead, you just nodded, barely aware of your own movements. He had promised—promised—that the last orgasm would be the final one, but you both knew that was a lie. The overstimulation was toeing the line between pleasure and madness, but it felt too good to stop now.

Your breath hitched as his tongue dragged over your clit again, precise and unyielding. Your legs twitched uncontrollably, but Seonghwa held them apart with ease, his grip firm yet affectionate.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned against you, the vibration sending shivers up your spine. “I can feel you getting close again… you gonna give me one more?”

His words alone had your stomach tightening, but it was the feeling of his finger slipping inside you that sent you spiraling. The intrusion was slow at first, teasing, stretching, but when he curled it just right, pressing into that sweet spot inside you, a wrecked cry tore from your lips.

The knot in your stomach coiled impossibly tight, and Seonghwa knew it. He could feel it, sense it in the way your walls clenched around his finger, in the way your thighs trembled beneath his touch.

“Let me have some more, hmm?” he coaxed, dragging his lips over your soaked folds before dipping his tongue back in, swallowing every drop of you. “I know you’re close, baby. Lemme finish this.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he wrapped his lips around your clit again, sucking with just enough pressure to push you over the edge.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your body arching as an explosion of moans filled the air. It was too much, yet not enough. Your grip on his hair tightened instinctively, your nails digging into his scalp as your orgasm crashed over you, more intense than the last. The heat, the pleasure, the overwhelming sensation of him owning every part of you—it was almost unbearable.

Seonghwa groaned at the way your hips bucked against his mouth, how your thighs tried to squeeze around his head but failed because of his iron grip. He didn’t let up, not yet. He made sure you rode out every second of your high, his tongue lapping up every bit of your release, his mouth working you through the aftershocks until you were twitching beneath him.

Even when your body started pushing away from him, too overstimulated to take any more, he stayed right where he was, licking you clean, making sure none of you went to waste.

Only when he was satisfied—when he was absolutely sure—did he finally lift his head.

Seonghwa’s face was completely drenched, his lips glistening with your slick as he licked them clean, dark eyes drinking in the sight of your exhausted, blissed-out state. He looked starved, like he was still ready to devour you all over again.

Slowly, he crawled up your body, his bare skin pressing against yours, his warmth sinking into you as he pulled you into his arms. The embrace was deep, all-consuming, as if he wanted to fuse himself to you completely.

“My babyyyy,” he drawled, exaggerating the last syllable, nuzzling into your neck with a satisfied hum.

His fingers gently stroked the back of your head, his touch softer now, affectionate, grounding. He pulled back slightly, just enough to get a good look at you, and the sight made him chuckle breathlessly.

Your eyes were hazy, your lips parted as you panted softly, still trying to recover from everything he just put you through.

“You enjoyed that?” he teased, his voice lower, more tender now.

You wanted to answer, wanted to say something—anything—but your voice wasn’t working. So instead, you gave him a weak, breathless nod.

Seonghwa smirked, clearly pleased with himself. He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips warm and soothing against your flushed skin.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, holding you even closer. “I love seeing you like this.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear. His warmth surrounded you, comforting, familiar, safe. And in that moment, as he held you close, stroking your hair, whispering sweet nothings against your skin—you knew there was no place you’d rather be.

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a/n: this was not proof read so bare with me. Kinda embarrassed to read it again ngl. Tell me if I went too hard for the first time😼

[porcalinecunt]

𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘!

→ breeding headcanons with blue lock boys (●´ω｀●)

🎧 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐀𝐄, 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑

♟️𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓

𝐜𝐰 — lots of breeding (duh!). reader is afab. overstimulation. rough sex. impregnation. praise kink. size kink. dumbification. cervix fucking (?).

a/n » currently down horrendous for some of the older men in blue lock and i couldn’t help myself at all. not too proud of this one, but i had sm fun writing this nonetheless! anyways, enjoy 🤍

𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

↳ Could never turn down the idea, maybe gets a bit too into it once he’s balls deep. “No more..i can’t..” you croaked out, and he still showed no sign of stopping. His fingertips implanted into your thighs, surely enough to leave bruises. Despite your legs trying to snap shut, his iron grip kept them apart while he continued to fuck away like an animal. “Kaiser!—�� you pleaded, only to feel a harsh slap on your inner thigh before he slowed down, but his thrusts were sudden and stretched you deeper then you could’ve imagined. A slight twitch indicated he was close, burying his cock deeper and deeper till you practically could feel the bulge in your womb.

“I know baby, i know..just wait a little more, you can do that f’me? hm?”

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

↳ He always gets what he wants. Always. You clutched the pillow close to your body as you were rocked upwards and muffling out your high pitched mewls, until Sae pulled your hair till your head was back onto his shoulder. “No no, i wanna hear you..” he whispered in your ear, letting you go as he picked up his pace. The feeling of his dick rapidly dragging itself against your walls and inching closer and closer to your cervix drove you beyond stupid. As you babbled incoherent nonsense, Sae groaned at what he was looking at. Your knees buckled and instinctively bringing your knees up to your chest in a fetal position, as he places you in a headlock to keep you still. Distorted giggles and louder moans filled his ears and all the way to his dick.

“Look how good your taking it love. All for me, yeah?”

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐈

↳ A fucking animal when it comes to breeding his s/o. Has you almost bent in half, your legs wide open while he practically jackhammers you like a rabbit in heat. You can’t even moan, only cut off yelps are forced out of your throat. Your caged between his arms, only looking into his lust blown eyes, staring back down at you like your his final meal. Your orgasm reaching closer and closer and he showed no sign of pulling out. “I-Inside..! Pleaase!” you could only wail as Shidou grabbed your hips and was basically pulling you onto his cock. The only thing on his mind was filling you till you were pump and pregnant with his child, his beautiful spouse carrying his baby only drove him over the edge.

“So pretty, so fuckin’ good f’me..can’t get enough of you sweets.”

𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

↳ That man is a sucker for breeding, whether it gets you pregnant or not. Even better when he could feel your body become more and more weaker as your orgasm closed in on you, allowing him to take control and fuck you dumb onto his cock like a doll. He watched your eyes focus on the bulge in your womb disappear and reappear as his pace quickens till the skin slapping overshadowed your sobs and whines for release. He could cum easily just by staring at you, his dollie starstruck and just in awe from how good their boyfriend’s dick felt deep in them, only getting better by the thought of Oliver stuffing his seed deep into their pussy. Claiming it as his and his only.

“Beg. Beg for it doll, tell me how much you want it. I need to hear it baby, please..”

🎧 this work belongs to @porcalinecunt. reblogs and feedback are appreciated. <3

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: Missing you, your boyfriend hated being apart from you. So what happens when he can finally get his hands on you once more?

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘: Gen Narumi & Soshiro Hoshina

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2k.

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘: Gen Narumi & Soshiro Hoshina x Fem!Reader (seperate). (SMUT). 𝖈𝖜: oral (female receiving), minor impact play, dirty talk, praise, degradation, taking photos, oral (male receiving), marking, mentions of breeding.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Two fics in one week? From me? Unheard of. Listen if this isn't proof of how much Kaiju No. 8 has consumed me I don't know what is honestly. I'm still messing around with writing for them and getting a sense of their personalities so please be kind to me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

Seeing the way you were laid beneath him blurred his mind in a cloud of lust and need. He justified his upcoming actions under false pretenses of you needing a "punishment” from earlier, when in all reality it was his own selfish need to taste you, unable to remember the last time he spent an extended period of time between your soft thighs. So rather than fulfilling your request of filling you with his cock he begins the long and tortuous process of trailing kisses down your frame, grinning against your skin as he feels your body arch into his touch, finally ending his slow descent by tugging the waistband of your panties back with his teeth, shivering in anticipation at the sound of the elastic snapping against your skin. Having enough of his own teasing he leans back groaning upon seeing the drenched material of your panties. “Holy shit babygirl, look at you, you're fucking soaked. And it's all for me, I can't wait to taste you, doll.”

He impatiently gripped the fabric of your drenched panties, tugging it off of your frame in one swift motion. Quick to pocket the article of clothing for later use, before laying flat on his front, settling himself between your legs, hooking a thumb in a fold pulling the skin to the side to expose you fully to his prying eyes. “Jesus, doll, god you're so fucking beautiful, I can't fucking stand it. Gotta commit this shit to memory.” His voice has a gravel, need consuming the octave in which his words are spoken.

He removes his phone from his pocket sliding up to access the camera to snap a photo of your exposed heat, making a mental note to use that the next time he was missing you on a mission, or maybe even send it to a certain vice-captain as a reminder of what he would never be able to get his hands on. Finally, needing to taste you before he drives himself insane, he dives down licking a fat stripe up your center.

Narumi lets his tongue circle your clit, alternating between flattening his tongue and applying just the right amount of pressure to caress the hardened nub, feeling himself getting drunk on the taste of you. “Ge-“ Any words you would try and formulate die on your tongue, getting cut off by his actions, hand flying to his hair to grip at it for leverage. A loud whimper left your lips, a near scream of his name close to follow. “Gen, please, I need you! Please, I love your mouth, but I really want you, I need you so badly.. feel so empty, haven't felt full since last time..”

Your words come out desperate, senseless pleas for him to do something, anything, to qualm the empty feeling of your cunt as it clenched around nothing. Knowing just what to say to push him over the edge and have him give you just what you were craving. Gripping the back of his hair, tugging him away from your cunt enough so you could look at him between your thighs. Eyes clouded with lust as you look into his own, their vermillion barely recognizable, his pupils blown so wide with lust. Your words are purred into the air, knowing that by the end of your sentence, you would have him hook, line, and sinker.

“I really need you to fill me up, Gen. Put a baby inside of me, I need you please, Gen.” You maintained eye contact looking at him between your plump thighs, hearing the groan that bubbled up from his throat in response to your words. For as good as he looked there, the tears that lined your lashline only enforced the need behind your words, the very same need that caused the mess between your legs in the first place. Narumi feels himself being pulled out of his haze only when your words sink in. He debates filling you with his fingers, desperate to get more of a taste of your sweet cunt, but Narumi was nothing if not willing to appease your needs. He could not deny his own needs any longer, the fabric of his pants and the plush of the mattress beneath him doing nothing to qualm his need like burying himself inside you would. Though what really sent him into a frenzy, was one phrase in particular, you always knew just what to say to drive him insane.

“Yeah, doll? Need me to fill that slutty cunt baby? Want me to fold you in half and breed you, princess? Do you want me to really make you a mommy, huh baby? Well, how could I possibly say no?” He smirks, parting from his position between your legs, leaning back on the heels of his feet before ripping down the zipper of his pants. With expert fingers, he was quick to free his aching cock from the confined of his pants, parting your legs further as he gazes at your exposed figure beneath him. Unable to help himself, he lands a harsh slap against your cunt. His grin was feral, your slick glistening against his chin. His hand soon finds a home against your throat, the other gripping the base of his cock lining it up with your entrance. “Tell me, doll, before I ruin you. Who's perfect pussy is this, hm?”

Hoshina never fared well when you both were apart. That proof was evident in the way he was on you the moment you returned to base. The mission your platoon had been dispatched on just so happened to be in his brother’s sector, fueling his need to claim you once more. His lips were all over your skin, sharp canines marking your neck, the darkened skin being his solace the insatiable need to have physical evidence that you belonged to him consuming him. He was always like this when you had to be in the presence of his brother. Their rivalry surviving even after all of these years. Knowing that you decided he deserved a little assurance. This was the only true spot of insecurity, and you intended to let him know just how much he’d never have to worry when it came to you. Stepping forward, gently guided him backward until the backs of his knees came into contact with the edge of the bed, pushing his shoulders until he sat on the mattress.

Now that the both of you were separated from the intense kiss, both of your lips swollen from the intensity of the embrace, he was free to look up at you curiously. His hands flew to your waist, pulling you flush against him. One hand pushing up the fabric of your sleep shirt, exposing your bare top half to his hungry gaze. He was quick to reattach his lips to your skin, using the height difference from you standing between his legs to his advantage. His other hand gripping the soft plush of you ass, using his hold on you as leverage to pull you closer. His tongue lolling out of his mouth, he was quick to take a hardened bud between his lips. His tongue rolling against it, coming to a point to flick at the sensitive area before letting his teeth capture it. Pulling his head back to tug until releasing, pupils blows wide seeing the bounce of the plush flesh he was rewarded with. He was quick to give the other the same treatment. “So fucking beautiful, baby, and all fucking mine.”

You run your fingers through his hair, letting out a soft moan at the attention he was giving to your body. “Yes Shiro, I’m all yours baby.” Your voice is breathy from the pleasure you were receiving, head falling back as you relish in the feeling of his expert mouth. “Missed you so much baby.” You coo, hands coming to his shoulder to push him away a bit. He was confused for a moment, if you missed him why were you pushing him away? Before he could protest or chase your skin with his mouth, you capture his lips in a deep kiss, hand trailing down his body before finding purchase on his hardened cock through the fabric of his pants. Giving it a squeeze, Hoshina can’t help but buck his hips into your hand, his body reacting subconsciously. You pull from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips for just a moment before snapping. Looking into his hooded eyes, you let a grin slip its way onto your features.

Usually, Hoshina was always in control, working your body over and over again until the only word you could think to speak was his name. But not this time. This time you would be taking care of him. Dropping to your knees between his legs on the floor, your hands on his knees pushing his thighs apart. “let me show you just how much I missed you Shiro.” You coo, hands working dutifully on his pants, pulling his hard cock from its confines. His tip was already drooling with precum, the sight of it alone enough for your mouth to water. Ducking your head down you allow your tongue to collect his salty essence. “Fuck.” His hand flies to your hair, digits tangling in your locks. His word only fuels your actions. Steadying his cock with a hand at his base, your tongue circles his cockhead. Maintaining eye contact as you make out with his tip. “Fuck baby, please missed you too much, don’t tease.”

The plea in his voice was all it took for you to take his cock into your mouth. The groan that rumbles in his throat nearly muffles the sounds of your bobbing. Moving your head up and down on his length. Flattening your tongue on the underside of his cock, making sure to pay special attention to the vein that ran along his member. His fingers gripped the hair atop your head using it to guide your head up and down on his length, tears collecting at your lashline as the head of his cock kissed the back of your throat. “Fuck, kitten, so fucking good for me. That’s my girl taking my cock so fucking well, gonna make me cum baby, fuck.” He exclaims, throwing his head back in pleasure.

His hips bucking uncontrollably, effectively fucking your face. His hips begin to stutter, his vison going white as the coil in his stomach snaps. “Cumming, fuck kitten, fuck!” With only a few more bobs of your head, he fills your mouth with his seed, shuddering as he feels your throat contract as you swallow. His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath, coming down from his high. He spares a glance at you, seeing the way you let your tongue slide from your mouth, showing him your now empty mouth. His eyes darken, and before you could blink he swiftly grabs you, the world shifting as he swaps your positions. Your back hits the mattress, his larger form caging you in, lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss. His hips roll against your own, his cock already growing hard again. His next words are spoken between panted breaths against your lips. “That was quite the show, kitten. Now its my turn to show you just how much I missed my pretty little cunt, yeah?”

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics. Banners & writing by me. Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn.

[tojisun]

um your ghostgaz blurb but also ghost letting gaz tip his head back onto his shoulder and squeezing at his base when he’s inside you so you can have a break from gaz humping your cunt until you both go dumb (and so simon can hear him keen out that ‘ah, right there, rightthere-‘ again)

AHHHHHHHHHHH YEA YEA !!! holy shit this is some good fuckin soup!!

“shh, pretty, ‘ve got you,” simon grunts in kyle’s ear, his words rumbling deeply.

it is a shared moment between the two of them, one that you’re once again a spectator of, but you don’t mind. not when you get a glimpse of kyle’s demeanour breaking for a quiet splintering in the hands of simon.

kyle bucks in his hold, trying to fuck into the tight fist of simon or into the warm press of your cunt, you don’t know, but it has simon tutting before forcing kyle to stop again. kyle keens, desperate for his orgasm, but god are you thankful for the break.

they had you for hours, either taking turns or taking you at the same time, and it has your body aching, pussy all sore and legs a trembling mush. simon massages at your thigh in placation, choosing to relay his affection through touch because this is still a scene—the one that the three of you easily fall into; the one where you are made to be used, often as a vessel to reflecr the guys’ love for each other, like you exist only for their mutual pleasure and not your own.

(objectification kink, the engine search bar had put out as a result of your question from when you were first included into their fold.

there were social media threads and official bdsm websites that expounded on the matter but you understood enough. it was pretty self explanatory, you thought, and, in the silence of your room, you trembled in excitement.

anticipation coursed through you in pinching waves, uncontainable as you waited for the weekend to come.)

so you lay there, watching with hunger as simon pressed his murmured kisses on kyle’s neck, his voice too quiet for you to pick up. but whatever simon is saying has kyle writhing, his body trembling, until he’s collapsing into simon’s chest, head tipped up for a breathy keen. you gasp out at the sound, your pussy squeezing at his cock for a moment, and kyle begins to weep.

simon rumbles a pleasured grunt, snarling something close to, “s’good f’me,” then his fist begins moving, bumping against your sore folds, then back up to the remaining shaft of kyle’s cock.

you blink, feeling saliva pool underneath your tongue as your desire peaks, bloating at the image they make—kyle, writhing and moaning, and simon jerking your lover so he can finally cum—

in you.

“almost—si—!” kyle screams, gasping at his heightening euphoria.

“good,” simon murmurs, slow and sensual, and his face all flushed. “cum f’me, baby. go on.”

you see the moment kyle’s orgasm razes him. his body locks up, his eyes are blown wide, and his jaw drops for a soundless moan. god, you know the feeling—that explosion of ecstasy that almost feels too surreal; like you’ve been ripped from your body and thrusted up into nirvana.

then, something warm trickles into you, spurting on the cushions of your walls. you cry, your exhausted body protesting at being pumped full again—they haven’t even let you squeeze out simon’s spill—and you swear you feel your stomach bulging. making room for kyle’s release.

it—

it shouldn’t turn you on but it does, and simon snaps his eyes back to you like he knows just what exactly is running in your head.

he grins, something that is a little too mean, and you realize that while kyle is done, simon has yet to get his fill.

fuck.

[charliemwrites]

Greater Bad - Part 5!

This is the final chapter of this series. I had so much fun working on it, making myself write a character that was genuinely just really mean most of the time and not chickening out by softening him (mostly).

Again, a gigantic, smooch-filled thank you to ceilidho for letting me write this based off her drabble/concept.

(The concept comes from @ceilidho’s concept/drabble of “military asset Soap” and heavily inspired also by @391780’s Nikto version. Please go check out theirs because they’re brilliantly written.)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con Elements, Unreliable Narrator, Semi-Safe/Not-Sane/Dub-Con Intimacy

You still smell the same.

Clean water, soap and skin. It saturates the back of his tongue when he inhales deep. The sharp, cloying scent of printer ink has been replaced by the buttery aroma of bread and sugar. It’s better. His mouth waters, canines too big and sharp in his mouth, jawing aching to bite down until he’s teething on bone. Scrape his imprint into marrow.

Some shrink mentioned it in those first sessions, before Laswell and Price realized their precious Johnny wasn’t lost in the hole in his temple.

The human olfactory sense is strongly associated with our memory. What smells like home to you, Soap?

The jagged puzzle of his mind didn’t have a piece for home. But it had one for his – you – and that’s just as good.

The humidity in the shower leaves him drowning in the scent of you, lungs heaving. If they’d waterboarded him with your perfume, he wouldn’t have struggled at all.

“Easy, easy,” your voice derails him.

Velvet and smooth, purring in the bottom of your throat. It bounces off the walls and cracks across his skull, a concussive force, disorients him. He grips tighter to keep his balance, swaying into you. You’re all slick and soft, caught between his body and the wall, nothing but naked skin and those big eyes that drive him more mad.

His face is still buried in the vulnerable curve of your neck; you taste just as good as you smell. You jump when he nips, a high noise caught on your clumsy tongue. He growls, wants to hear it. Wants to be overwhelmed by you until all his senses are blown out.

“I’m not saying no,” you soothe, hands skittering down his biceps.

Of course you’re not, not his girl. It’s not a matter of yes or no, not for the two of you. The moon doesn’t agree to orbit the Earth, the sun doesn’t choose to shine. You’re the gravity keeping his feet on the ground.

“Slow down a bit,” you murmur, “We’re not in a rush, are we?”

Just hearing you say “we” sends his heart thundering double-time and euphoria flooding his poisoned veins. “We” - you and him. You squeak as he thrusts hard against your lower stomach, where you’re pillowy and perfect from a life of plenty.

He doesn’t even process what you’ve said for a few moments, too busy nibbling “we” into your shoulder. Only when you thread shaky fingers into his hair – too excited to keep them steady, sweet thing – does his head surface over the swelling waves of desire to hear you properly.

“Missed you,” he explains, raking fingers over your thigh in hopes it’ll bruise. Your mouth parts on a gasp, inviting him in. He ravages your mouth, teeth snagging your plush lips. Needs to leave his mark everywhere for always. Don’t you get that? How could you ask him to slow down when your skin is still pristine, your cunt all tight and unspoiled – a fucking tragedy that.

“Ye missed me too, aye?” he asks. Of course you did, of course. Made this pretty little cottage for the two of you, filled it with so many things that he could never forget where he is again.

“I ken ye did.” He does you the favor of answering, since you’re too busy with his fingers in your mouth. You’ve gotten better with your priorities since that first reunion, laving your tongue over and between his digits rather than waste it on idle chatter. “Can go slow once I show yer mine. Been too fuckin’ long they kept us apart, little bird.”

Your fingers curl around his wrist. Must be satisfied with how wet they are, then. He presses down on your tongue one last time before pulling away.

“B-but you took care of them… we don’t need to—ah!”

He smirks as your entire body jolts. You’re already starting to warm up, but your saliva makes the slide between your delicate folds even easier. You’re just as silky as last time, clit shy at the top of your slit. He coos in your ear, gets you flushing and hot from filthy promises.

“Ye wan’ this just as much as I do,” he growls. Poor thing, he knows you like your little games and he’s being impatient. But it’s been too long and you’re playing with fire. “I ken ye do. Tell me ye do.”

You stutter in shock – if he still felt guilt, he’d feel bad for doubting you – and stumble over your words. He stills his hand to help you, bracing his arm over your head. The stretch of his body seems to distract you, mouth parted but frustratingly quiet as your round eyes roam scars and muscle.

He clicks his tongue and pinches your clit to catch your attention. You yelp, little nails sinking into his chest. He rumbles. It feels good, but he’s on a mission.

“Tell me,” he repeats when you blink up at him. “Tell me.”

“I-I just want to be able to go again,” you babble. “If I’m too sore…”

He chuckles. Is that all? “That won’ stop me, love. We’ll go plenty.”

You whine as he draws tight circles over your clit, coaxing it hard and swollen.

“I d-don’ wanna be t-too… sore! Christ!”

He huffs, caught between amusement and exasperation. Voice of reason you are, he knows you’ve got a point. Big as he is, and he knows he’ll lose any sense of restraint once he’s inside.

“I’ll make it good, bonnie,” he promises, biting kisses along your trembling jaw. “You’ll cum crying if tha’s what it takes.”

With that matter settled, he drops his head to your pretty tits. Water has beaded all over them and he jealously licks paths between each drop, flattening his tongue over your hard nipples. You moan and squeal as he sucks and nips, teasing them sensitive and achy. One of your hands tangles in his hair and tugs. Tingles race down his spine, scattering any sweet thoughts of going slow or gentle or with restraint.

You’re babbling at him but nothing could be more important than the rosettes he’s biting into your breasts. And you must agree because you’re getting so wet, leaking all over his rough palm, bucking your hips. He tilts the heel of his hand for you to grind against while he prods at your slick little hole.

You really have been good, somehow even tighter than he remembers. Of course, you were; he never doubted you. No wonder you were so insistent on prepping. He’d split you in half as you are now – fuck but that’s tempting.

“S-Soap – John. Please don’t… stop.”

“I won’ stop, birdie,” he soothes. Nothing could make him stop now.

Two is probably too much for you, but he loves the punched out little noise you make when he forces them in. The way your entrance clings and squeezes around his knuckles. How your spine goes tight and stiff, tilting your head back so that he has access to your singing throat. Pretty face all scrunched up as you struggle to adjust, stinging too much to even squirm. A flighty little bird right in the palm of his hand.

You’re so hot and wet inside. Feel fucking heavenly. Coating him in arousal, in need. His cock is aching to replace his fingers, feel you strangling him down to the base. Grinding against your thigh isn’t tiding him over anymore.

“Yer hand,” he grits out, “on my cock. Now.”

You shudder and circle the head, fingers tentative. Little tease.

He thrusts his fingers into you hard in retaliation, hips driving into the loose tunnel you’ve made. You must know what you’re doing, goading him on like this, plucking at his fraying patience.

“More,” he snarls, “or I’m going to use you like a fleshlight.” (Sooner than he was planning, anyway.)

You whimper and close your hand tighter, rubbing your thumb just under the head. Relief makes him generous, scissoring those two fingers inside you, easing you open. Lets you grind your clit on the meat of his thumb.

He crooks his fingers and finds a spot that has you mewling all sweet and precious. Does it over and over just to get your hand squeezing rhythmically around his shaft, precum dribbling over the back of your knuckles.

Christ, it’s been so long that he thinks he could blow just from this. Your voice in his ear, drooling pussy wrapped around his fingers, grinding into the open circle of your hand. But he needs to be inside you when he cums, he has to.

You don’t even seem to notice the third finger until it’s halfway inside, prying you open. Your legs buckle, knees shaking. He catches you with an arm around your waist, but it squishes you against his chest, the arm you’ve been stroking him with nearly immobilized. He can only stand the lack of stimulation for a few moments, occupying himself with his tongue down your throat.

“Enough,” he rasps, kicking the shower off.

Dazed, you blink at him in confusion, half-lidded and guileless, panting. He wants to fucking ruin you.

You yelp as he scoops you up, fingers still slippery where they grip your thigh. He croons as you cling, asking in a high, nervous voice where he’s going.

“Poor thing, dick’s not even in yet ‘n yer all addled.”

The dripping head of his cock grinds against your sopping slit as he carries you back to the bedroom. He remembers how much you liked it before – and you still do, your blunt little teeth buried in your bottom lip as you whimper.

It’s still dark, the crescent moon no use to your weak eyes. Like hell you won’t look at him when he finally claims you proper.

He slaps at the wall switch, a tiny lamp flicking to life across the room. You’re bathed in soft golden light, deep shadows swimming where it doesn’t reach. You and him, gold and black, light and dark.

He eagerly lays you out on the blanket, drinking in the marks decorating your upper body. You even have teeth prints on your arm that he doesn’t remember putting there – fetching, though.

You wiggle further up the mattress, and he follows, flashing a grin as he plants his hands on either side of you. The size difference is stark like this, the breadth of him subsuming you. Safe, tucked away, all his. Your breathing is loud as he bullies his way between your plush thighs again. You have to spread them so wide just to accommodate.

“Lemme see,” he says, voice barely leaving his chest. “Lemme see her. It’s been so long, baby.”

He can already tell you’re about to start up the fussing again – so shy, his little bird, but he’ll get you singing nice and loud now. No more of this demure chirping facade. You both know what you really are.

You squeal as he forces your thighs up, far enough apart that you babble that you don’t bend that way. Of course you do, though, you’ve just done it. Not that he really hears you by that point.

No, all his attention is on that gleaming, puffy pussy. So fucking pretty. Sticky and throbbing, your hole hardly showing the stretch of three fingers. Dripping as he watches, a dewy glob of arousal sliding down the seam of your cunt, towards your ass.

Just the slightest shift and his cock is nestled between your folds, the glans chafing against your hot clit. He measures the depth of it against your abdomen, head cloudy on the nervous whine that eeks from your throat.

Even with prep, he might break you anyway.

He hopes he does. Break you around him, shape you to him so that no one else will fit – not that anyone else will ever get the chance.

It’s not a conscious thought that gathers saliva on his tongue, purses his lips. You jump when he spits, rubbing the head of his cock through your combined fluids. Your cunt looks good in white. Like a bride.

You’re too needy, wiggling with nervous anticipation. He has to hold you down while he sinks into you – poor thing too blissed out to control yourself. One hand around your wrists above your head, the other pinning your hips at an angle to drive in as easily as possible.

One snap of his hips, and he’s buried to the hilt. You cry out, shuddering and dry sobbing. His vision goes spotty with the pleasure of it, your little pussy squeezing. You’re so…

“Fucking perfect.”

He shushes you, unable to bend to kiss you without making the stretch worse. Settles for rubbing circles into your hip, twisting to lace your fingers together. Now that he’s finally, finally where he belongs, it doesn’t seem such a monumental task to muster some patience.

“B-big,” you whimper. “You’re t-too big. I d-don’t – I can’t…!”

“You already are,” he coos, “little girl taking this fat cock, I’m so proud. My girl is so brave, my little bird. Bonnie lass.”

He’s rambling now, a dirty stream of consciousness. But that primal urge to fuck you open and loose and stupid is already clawing at him again. The tight clutch of your cunt calls for him to break you in, mark you up on the inside. Claim you as his irrevocably.

You feel him drawing back, eyes flying open wide. Writhing, half-formed protests on your tongue - that you’re not ready, that he’s too big, that it still hurts.

As if that’s any reason to stop, when anything needs to sting a bit to leave a lasting mark.

“Only way to make it hurt less,” he reminds, burying inside again. This time he rolls his hips, grinding the head of his cock along your satiny walls, against the hard barrier of your cervix.

Whatever you’re about to say is swept off in a wave of moans, washing over your wet tongue and down the back of your too-empty throat. Every time you try to gather them, he fucks back into you, hard enough to bounce you up the bed before he tugs you right back down.

Eventually you give up on doing anything but keening for him, massaging his cock from root to tip in those twitching walls. You loop your legs around his waist, ankles locked at the small of his back, knees squeezing against his ribs.

“Tha’s it, love,” he slurs, “jus’ take it.”

He lets your wrists go to clutch at both of your hips, angling them as he straightens his back. On the next thrust you scream, curse, throw your hands up to brace against the headboard. Smart girl.

His restraint unravels with each thrust until he’s pounding into you, slamming the bedframe into the wall. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your skull, jaw loose, spilling pathetic, weepy “ah, ah, ah” noises in time with his hips. He’s not going to last long at all. Not when you feel so goddamn good, finally claimed.

He presses his thumb against your clit and grins wickedly as you thrash. Tears leak from your unfocused eyes. You babble incoherently as he rubs a little rougher than he should, but your walls are sucking and clutching at every centimeter of him, so he doesn’t stop.

Even when you seize up, back bent into a sharp arch, clamping down so tight that he goes lightheaded.

“Soap! John… John it’s too much,” you sob. “John – Johnny!”

His orgasm blindsides him, makes him fuck you so hard that something in the bed cracks. In the haze, he flattens you to the mattress while bucking into you, not taking any chance of coming unseated. You whine in his ear but go limp, resigned to his cock spurting at the entrance to your womb – as deep as he can get – your cunt milking him for every drop.

He comes back to himself when you tap weakly at his hip, uncoordinated.

“Hm?” he asks, a little miffed that you’re disturbing his afterglow already.

“Hard to breathe,” you squeak.

He huffs. Alright, suppose he can understand that. Besides, he wants to see you.

And what a sight you make, splayed out and shaky on pleasure. Sweat at your hairline, lips swollen and bitten. He can still feel your pulse against his cock.

He sits himself up, eyes trailing down to the place where you’re joined. His cum is already seeping out a bit at a time, a thin creamy ring around his still half-hard cock. You keen a bit when it twitches.

“Pretty girl,” he coos.

You groan softly, flopping an arm over your glassy eyes as he pulls out – slow because he’s reluctant to leave.

But the sight of your slick diluting the milky white of his cum is too much to resist. You jolt at the first swipe of his tongue, react much faster than he’s expecting. Flip onto your front and try to scramble away. He growls at his stolen prize and pounces.

Under normal circumstances, you’re no match for him. Trembling and spent like this, you don’t stand a chance.

He grabs your calf and yanks you back, chuckling at the helpless stretch of your arms. You try to plead your case, but he’s hearing none of it. Plants his hand against your back as he shuffles onto his stomach, your thighs over his shoulders, knees digging into muscle. He tilts your hips with his other hand, thumb fitted in the crease of your pelvis, and brings you to his mouth.

Your struggling has made more spend leak out, and he laps it all up hungrily, tongue flat and ravenous. Sweeping from clit to hole to gather any stray droplets, even skimming over the tight furl of your ass. He licks into your loosened hole, high on pride at the difference he can feel his cock has made.

“’S too much,” you wail, “J-Johnny, please. I-I can’t, it’s…”

In retaliation, he slurps loudly at the fresh arousal blooming across his tongue. You hiccup, try one last time to wriggle away. He can’t have that.

You shriek as he fucks two fingers into you, voice thick with a fresh wave of tears. But you stop trying to escape. He doesn’t show mercy now that you’re behaving, coaxing more out, licking around his own knuckles. When he sucks at your overstimulated clit, you jerk and whine.

“I’m – I’m gonna… feels… w-wait, wait!”

It’s too late. He’s already laved his tongue over your trapped clit, crooked his fingers. You cum again with a shout, wetness splashing across his mouth, chin, down his neck. He groans, deep and rough in his chest. Doesn’t even give you a moment to recover before he pulls away, licking his lips.

“Do tha’ again on my cock.”

You’ve learned better now though – you lay there like a good girl as he stuffs you full again. Even better, you keep rewarding him with your soft cries of pleasure.

You really are made for him.

--

He likes the couch you picked. Not very big, but cushy. Besides, the two of you don’t need a lot of room anyway. Not when his lap makes a perfectly good seat for you.

You’ve been quiet all morning – probably still waking up from the coma he fucked you into. Eating babka from his fingers, licking them clean between bites. Docile and sweet, melting against his chest with your face tucked against his collarbone.

“Sore?” he asks.

“Mhmm.”

Your sweet little voice is all hoarse and soft. He’d coo if he didn’t think he’d be pushing his luck with skin so close to your teeth.

“Maybe I’ll massage you later,” he offers, smirking at the grumpy little “hmph” he gets in response.

He encourages you to sip a bit of water before your voice emerges again.

“What happens now?”

He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand the question.

“Now I get the life I’m owed,” he answers. All that fighting, suffering, bleeding, dying – and for what? A hole in his skull and his own goddamn people thinking he’s a monster. Even you, at first. You’ve learned, though. He’s sure of it. The rest can swallow bullets for all he cares.

“What if they come back?” you ask.

He hums. “Might contract with someone. Not opposed to killin’ on principle – just sick of doin’ it to someone else’s tune, aye?”

“Wh-what… what about…”

What about you. Poor thing, afraid Laswell and her ilk will snatch you up and dangle you in front of him again. Or worse – some other sod drooling for a slice of heaven in the pits of hell.

He doesn’t loosen his grip even when you shift a bit – needs to feel you in his hands.

“Got a plan for that, don’ you fret, little bird,” he soothes. “Still got one friend, I think. Jus’ gotta find ‘im.”

You exhale slowly, accept another piece of babka. “We’re stayin’ here, though?” you mumble around the mouthful.

He chuckles. Sweet little thing.

“Worked so hard on the place, might as well. Don’ care so long as I’ve got my bird, aye?”

“Mm.”

“How ‘bout a kitty, eh? Get ya somethin’ to keep ye company when I’m away.”

You swallow audibly. “I wan’ a dog. Big one.”

He chuckles. “’Course ye do. Aye, love, a big fuck-off dog to keep ya safe.”

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[sonotpattismith]

Omggg Established relationship Sukuna forgets it’s valentine’s day angst fic?? I NEED it 😈

stupid in love

pairing: tattoo artist!sukuna x ballerina!reader word count: 7.1k content: valentine's day edition!!!, fluff, angst, sukuna and his problematic attachment style, a bit toxic if you squint, jealousy, hurt w/comfort, smut, 18+ continuation of where I first saw you and ruin it all over and dedicated to @emochosoluvr who I've appointed as godmother of my two kids tattoo artist!sukuna and ballerina!reader

“Where the fuck are you?”

Sukuna could hear the rough streams of rain smacking against the ground even on the other line of the phone, that sharp fear that only you had the innate talent of filling in him crashing into his system as a result. It had been almost twenty minutes now that he had been parked outside of your dance studio, his windshield wipers straining with the effort of the torrential downpour attacking his car— twenty minutes past the time you told him you’d meet him outside. 

“Ryo, I need help.” Your sweet, frantic voice on the other line sent his heart racing. 

Immediately cutting the engine in his car, the enormous man damn near ripping the door from the vehicle as he allowed the rain to soak through his clothes. 

“Where are you? The fuck is going on?” He tried desperately not to sound as panicked as he felt, and he reached in to pull an umbrella from the backseat before slamming the door shut and hauling ass.

“I-I’m right outside the back entrance.” Your words trembled from the freezing rain clinging to you, and it made his heart crack, picking up his pace ever so slightly. “Please, hurry.”

A growled curse escaped him when you hung up the phone abruptly. Dialing your number again, his boots began pounding on the gravel walkway while he squinted through the mix of rain and nightfall to spot you. His heart was pounding against his chest when you didn’t answer, a myriad of possibilities running through his mind of what could have possibly happened to you. 

Had your fracture relapsed? Was someone stalking you? Or worse— had someone actually done something to you? His mind was racing through worst case scenarios, only aiding in his frantic pursuit. 

It was only a short few minutes before he finally caught sight of you just beside a bush outside the entrance you mentioned. You were hunched over, your back to him as the rain soaked your sweater, but he was sure he’d be able to pick you out of a crowd. Racing over to where you were squatted, Sukuna all but fell to his knees beside you, his hands immediately reaching out to inspect you. 

“What’s wrong? Why the fuck would you hang up like that? You had me—” 

His frenzied questioning of misdirected frustration fell short on his tongue as he heard a strange… squeaking coming from just below you. You were rambling out in relief before he could ask any more questions though. 

“Please, Ryo, can you reach it?” You cried desolately, clutching onto the sleeve of his leather jacket while you pointed toward the bush you were crouched beside. He blinked owlishly at you, contemplating whether or not he should check you for a fucking head injury, because he couldn’t see anything but leaves. 

“Baby,” Sukuna tried to level his voice cautiously for you, though you seriously made him question his patience with each passing day. You already knew that he didn’t see what you had been referring to, as he only called you that when he thought you were on the brink of a full-blown crashout. “Someone give you something? A drink, or—”

You huffed in frustration, cutting him off when you yanked at his sleeve and pulled him closer. With a trembling hand clutched to his jaw, you maneuvered his face into your line of vision before pointing once again. His brows slowly unforrowed as he finally caught sight of what you had dragged him all the way out here for. 

“Is that a fucking cat?”

“Please, I’ve been trying to get it out, but I can’t reach back there.” 

Your boyfriend looked down at you incredulously, now taking note of countless scrapes lining your arms from the thorns and branches, some deeper than the others and making him pinch at the bridge of his nose. Your desolate sniffles pulled him from his mental anguish, clicking his tongue against his teeth upon seeing your blood-shot eyes. 

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.” He grumbled, shifting onto his knees to shrug his jacket off and drape it over your lap before leaning over the bush. 

The damned thing was tiny, shivering as the rain dripped from its frazzled, black fur. Its milky-yellow eyes were staring up at Sukuna, wide and reflecting in the moonlight. It didn’t recoil from him as he thought it would— didn’t bear its still growing fangs or attempt to scratch at him. Using just his forefinger and his thumb, he grasped at the scruff on its neck, using his other hand to push away at the shrubbery so he could pull it out. 

The kitten hung limply in his grasp as the man dangled it in front of his face to better inspect it. Narrowing his eyes at it as though it might remind it that it should be scared of him, it only squeaked a meow at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the scraggly thing reminded him of—

“Oh my gosh!” You squeaked through the haze of your tears, stumbling forward to gush as the small animal in his grasp. Nearly falling into your boyfriend’s lap in an attempt to get a closer look, you gawked affectionately with your wet cheek pressed against his tattooed one. “He’s shaking, Ryo.”

He flattened his lips into a scowl at the creature, but despite his outward disapproval, that tender spot he held for you betrayed him as he tugged his jacket from your lap to wrap it around the kitten carefully. With that same glower on his face, he shifted the bundle into your arms before opening up the umbrella to shield you from the continuous onslaught of rain. 

“Yeah? So are you. Put it under the awning and let’s go. I ain’t taking care of your sorry ass if you get sick.” But he would. He knew it, and so did you.  

“I think he’s hurt.” You shouted over the down-pour, and god, you looked up at him with those tragically beautiful, teary eyes that made him want to fight the world. Staring down at you, an internal war was waging in his mind, evident in the way his face scrunched furiously in a manner you always found so alluring. 

It wasn’t long before both you and the fucking kitten were in the passenger seat of his car, soaking up his seats as he drove sulkingly to the nearest veterinary clinic. Glancing over at you, it was an active effort not to soften those hard features of his, because you looked far too content for someone who was shivering so pathetically, smiling affectionately as you stroked under the kitten’s chin. 

It was just another moment in which Sukuna was coming to terms with the fact that he was changing. You danced into his life and suddenly he was regularly attending ballets, rescuing fucking kittens from bushes, and damn it— he could actually tell you the entire plot of the Nutcracker from memory. It was a sort of tenderness he never thought was present in him, or maybe it was just that you made him feel safe enough to show it. 

Still, it was increasingly frustrating that it didn’t seem to come so naturally to him as it did to you. He watched in his peripheral as you instinctively held the creature closer to you, how you didn’t hesitate before mutilating your arms in an attempt to get it to safety. It could have been feral, diseased— bit and scratched at you, but you always seemed to give life the benefit of the doubt. It drove him insane, and he wasn’t quite sure why. 

Thankfully, Sukuna had had a spare hoodie in his backseat that he had you replace your rain-soaked sweater with before you two stepped into the veterinary clinic, his hand still settled defensively on your nape as you had grown so accustomed to already. You had learned that he wasn’t exactly one to show his affection so outwardly if the two of you weren’t alone. Despite this, it came like second nature to him to always show some sort of sign that he was still with you— whether it be his grip on your nape, or a hand wrapped firmly around your bicep. You never felt brushed off by him, whether he intended the reassurance or not. 

You had all but forgotten that Yuuji had mentioned that his boyfriend worked at a veterinary clinic alongside his studies for the very same field. So, it wasn’t too much of a surprise that Sukuna had chosen to come to this particular clinic, knowing that Megumi already knew him and could take his straight-forward manner of handling situations without feeling any sort of way. 

Additionally, you were grateful that the vet tech could at least give you updates about the kitten later on, and, unbeknownst to you, it was another reason your boyfriend chose this place. He could already practically sense the melancholy that would grip you in the coming days if you weren’t able to confirm if the damned thing made it out okay. 

The menacing man thought you’d burst into tears again once Megumi informed you that the kitten was malnourished and had some sort of ear infection. Your shoulders tensed, but you seemed to stop yourself with the sinking of your teeth into your bottom lip as you nodded in understanding. Sukuna knew better though— he knew you better. 

“You gonna let it out or are you gonna wait until you see one of those sad ass animal commercials and explode?” He grumbled as soon as you two finally climbed into bed that night. 

Your current living situation was something you thought was temporary. After having miraculously been recruited by one of the local, professional dance companies following the Swan Lake incident, you had switched over to an online college in order to at least finish up your degree that you were already nearing completion on, while devoting most of your free time to your passion. Given the sudden switch, you had to move out of the dorm at your previous university. 

Sukuna insisted that you stay with him for the time being, spouting some excuse about him being closer to your new studio anyway, and that you shouldn’t be stressing about finding a new place while you’re settling into your new routine. Deep down though, he knew damn well that he was making sure to make the arrangement comfortable enough that you wouldn’t want to leave. 

It wasn’t subtle no matter how much he tried to make it out to be. Your favorite foods were always stocked in the fridge, a salt soak ready for those fucked up toes of yours each time you came back from practice, down to the habit he’d formed of massaging your calves for you every night when you’d crawl into bed utterly spent from the gruelling hours you’d put in at the studio. 

You’d sigh blissfully as you sank into his plush mattress, your comparably small frame appearing swallowed up by his dark sheets while his fingers dug deliciously into each cramping divet and strained muscle on your legs. No matter how many times he’d done it, it never failed to make you flush bashfully under his attentive touch. 

“I saw an apartment complex that’s opening up a few minutes from the studio.” You’d offer in that sleepy voice of yours, insistent on the notion that you were actually imposing on him by staying here. 

“Yeah? What’s with the rush?” He’d always tease with a click of his tongue as he allowed his hands to drift higher and higher until you were miraculously not so tired anymore. With just a tilt of his head, he’d send your heart racing against your chest. “Don’t like it here with me, doll?”

It was safe to say that him and his skilled hands never failed to put those ideas to rest. 

“‘M fine.” Your pitched voice betrayed you as you pulled the black comforter up to your chin and turned to face away from him. 

A frown of effort painted your pouted lips as you felt the mattress dip beside you, and soon you were being scooped against the warm skin of his chest. It was as if the sudden safety the reassurance of his arms provided was enough to break the dam you were holding back, hot tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. 

“You’re a fucking nutcase, you know that?” Sukuna grumbled with barely concealed amusement, all the while wiping at your flushed cheeks. 

This made you smile through your tears, fully recognizing the pathetic nature of your behavior. Shifting around, you buried your face into his chest while landing a playful smack to his shoulder. It was silent for a moment as you sniffled into his sternum, his fingers creating a gentle rhythm through your loose hair. 

“I just keep wondering how many people walked by it, and…” Your soft voice trailed, and you wiped at the tears you had stained his chest with. 

“Cause it could’ve had fucking diseases.”

“They can be fixed.” You defended, smushing your cheek back down against his peck. Even after all this time, he couldn’t understand how you treated him with such warmth when he only ever responded with the frigidness he’d grown accustomed to his whole life. “Someone just had to give him a chance, y’know?”

His chest ached at the tenderness of your heart. Trailing his hand down your neck and shoulder, he allowed the tips of his fingers to graze along your marked up arm. The sight of the various cuts and scrapes made him click his tongue. 

“Look what the damn chance did to you.” He grumbled, but you only yawned in response, your delicate frame stretching against him before settling comfortably with your leg nestled between his. 

“I don’t mind.” It was clear in the tone of your voice that you were already beginning to drift off. 

With a soft scoff, Sukuna shook his head and allowed his arm to settle back down around you. It was so like you to tear yourself down with the promise that someone else might benefit— never revealing if it hurt you, if it pissed you off. He didn’t understand it. 

“Course you don’t.”

That subtle irritation didn’t linger for long, because by the next day you were bright-eyed and beaming as you always were, and it made him forget what he had been so pissed off about in the first place, as it always did. It took all of four hours after the two of you had parted for the day that you were texting him between practice sets to ask him if Megumi had updated him about that damn cat, but now that some time had passed, the memory only made him roll his eyes in feigned annoyance. 

Though he’d never admit it, he found your concern endearing. You eagerness only amused him as he shook his head with a concealed smirk, slipping his phone back into his pocket to get ready for his next appointment. 

Despite the wall of indifference he liked to put up, it still meant the world to you that Ryo cared enough to help you that night. It was clear that he often got caught up in the convincing, but you never cared how much convincing it took. Underneath all that bravado, you knew the type of man he was. You’d seen it all that time ago when he’d protected and gone out of his way for you— the then stranger who had the nerve to pass out in his tattoo chair. 

He reminded you of it time and again, contradicting his sharp tongue with each gentle caress every night and each bouquet of flowers waiting in his hands after all the ballets he always made sure he was in attendance for. 

So, no, you didn’t care if he scowled and grumbled and cursed, because you knew what was underneath all of it, and it only made you love him more. Much like the young boy in him that doodled and sketched on every visible surface because he was never quite sure how everyone around him knew just what words to use when they weren’t feeling right, you knew Ryomen would always find his own way of showing you what was hidden beneath all that attitude.

He had already done so much for you: protected you, supported you, taken you in, introduced you to people who you could now actually call real friends here. 

It took Sukuna some time to open up about the fact that he’d never exactly done this relationship stuff before, but you figured as much given how guarded he was. Flings— sure. Dates and I love you’s though? That was a different story entirely. 

Of course, this posed the challenge of figuring out what you could possibly get a man who pretended to care for nothing. A trivial holiday like Valentine’s Day seemed like it would be that absolute bane of his existence— what with all the outward displays of affection and saccharine love confessions. Still, much like every aspect of your relationship thus far, there was a spark of uncertain excitement lighting your stomach ablaze as you wondered how he would make it his own— for the both of you.

Like most mornings, you were up and starting your day before your boyfriend could even think about opening those prepossessing eyes of his. The parlor never opened early, but almost always was open until the late hours of the night, which paved the way for Sukuna’s vehement aversion to mornings. 

You never minded though, always finding yourself feeling so lucky to be able to stare quietly over at him each morning. His defenses were down, at least as much as someone so guarded could bring them down, his pink hair strewn messily about his forehead as he snored softly against his pillow. It had become an admittedly embarrassing little habit that you’d formed as part of your morning routine— allowing yourself a few minutes following your alarm waking you to drink in the sight of him.  

Still, each morning he’d stir awake, even if just for a second when you did finally shift over to get out of bed to start your day. It had become almost calculated at this point; his brows would twitch, and then the most abrupt of scrunches would wrinkle at his nose as though he could sense a disturbance in his environment. Then— your favorite part— his crimson eyes would squint open to stare blearily at you for a moment until his half-conscious mind was able to process what was happening.

Sukuna would grunt each time, tugging at your wrist so you’d lower down enough for him to plant a sleepy kiss to your forehead. Your hand would slip into his hair, stroking at the tufts just behind his ear in the way that he never admitted made him hum blissfully each time.  His head would soon hit the pillow once again, and he’d be dead to the world for another few hours, leaving you with that gentle reminder of just what the tiniest bit of love could do to even the most callous of men.

Which was why you didn’t think twice when he hadn’t texted you that morning with any mention of the holiday. It wasn’t until lunch rolled around that you were on break from rehearsal that the doubt began prickling at the back of your mind, because he did text you then— his usual good morning as though it wasn’t damn near noon already and reminding you to actually take your lunch break that day. 

You blinked down at the message, feeling so unbelievably pathetic for the way his simple words struck the oddest sense of unease in your chest. Still, you brushed it off, assuring yourself that your concern was unwarranted, and that Ryo was a dry texter in general. 

So, you went about the rest of your day, only being reminded of his non-mention of the holiday once again when Satoru, who had also been recruited by the same company that fateful night of Swan Lake, presented you with a bouquet of white roses. Of course, you knew he meant nothing inappropriate by it— already having learned firsthand of your relationship and never crossing that boundary. 

You weren’t sure your boyfriend would see it as innocently as a long time dance partner expressing his gratitude for your professional connection though. There was hardly any room for him to be upset though, considering it was well into the afternoon now, and you still hadn’t gotten so much as a text about—

Shaking your head, you forced a smile onto your face as you pushed those temperamental thoughts to the back of your mind. Who were you to get so angry at him after all the kindness he had shown you? Ryomen would surely laugh at you for becoming so worked up over something so… trivial. Yeah, that’s all it was— trivial. Besides, the day wasn’t over yet, and you were going to meet him at the parlor after practice as had become ritual for the both of you— that is when it wasn’t torrential downpouring when he’d refuse to hear any lip about you taking the train. 

That notion was what kept the smallest bit of confidence in you as you walked into the parlor that evening, the small, heart-adorned gift bag with a brand new, leather-bound sketchbook tucked carefully inside clutched in your hand. You had been noticing that the one Ryo used was hanging on by its last leg, fraying at the edges and nearly out of pages. You thought a sturdier one might be better for someone who had the tendency of haphazardly tossing his stuff aside when was crunched for time. Additionally, you had found a shop that would engrave his initials into the corner. 

The bell chimed, signaling your entrance into the already rowdy parlor. This was typically prime time for them, nearly all the chairs taken up and conversation blocking out the heavy, alternative music that was constantly pumping through the speakers. You spotted the back of Ryo’s broad shoulders, hunched over his tattoo chair as he was placing the finishing touches on a woman’s spinal tattoo. You smiled softly at the thought of his fiercely concentrated expression that always appeared as rage to anyone who didn’t know any better. 

“There’s my favorite ballerina.” Choso greeted you fondly from behind the counter, his darkly-lined eyes already assessing the bouquet in your arms with a questioning glint. “Got an admirer? Who beat me to it this time?”

You beamed excitedly at him as he reached down to reveal a heart-shaped box of chocolates that had since been hidden beneath the counter. With an incredulous laugh of your own, you reached into the duffel bag you had slung over your shoulder to pull out the nearly identical box of chocolates you had bought for him as well. He clutched at his chest dramatically in a mock swoon. 

“See— didn’t I tell you we’re perfect for each other?” Choso gushed before exchanging boxes with you and ruffling at your loose bun. 

Your glittering laugh broke through even the loudest of boisterous conversation filling the air of the packed parlor, reaching Sukuna’s ears like the sweetest of siren’s songs. It made him swivel around, his gloved hand still carefully smearing the antiseptic gel over the client’s fresh tattoo. An adoring smile threatened to tug at his previous scowl of concentration at the sight of you, but it quickly fell upon noting the flowers in your arms and the chocolates before you— neither of which came from him. 

The sight made his heart fall through his stomach, plummeting down with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of him as the realization dawned on him. It made him question who he was more angry at; his brother, who had grown far too comfortable in his ‘feigned’ flirting and was picking out which chocolates to try first with you, whoever the fuck it was that felt confident enough to buy you roses, or himself— who had completely forgotten about Valentine’s Day. 

After a few more final details, his client was rising carefully from the leather seat and thanking him for his time. Clicking his jaw in irritation of his own shortcoming, he snapped his gloves off before begrudgingly beginning to clean up his station. Each little giggle and stifled laugh was driving that stake of spite farther and farther up his chest until he could swear he felt it poking up his throat. 

It wasn’t long before he was finally collecting himself to make his way over the the counter where you were perched atop of, melted chocolate staining your fingers as you chatted animatedly with his brother. 

Of course, Sukuna knew there was nothing going on there. After all, no matter how much he seemed to get a kick out of pissing him off, Choso would never cross that line. In fact, it typically brought him a sense of comfort and fondness knowing that you got along so well with both of his brothers. It was just now, where the artist knew his brother had been a step ahead of the glaring pothole that he had so stupidly missed— that was pissing him off. 

“You don’t have anything better to do?” Sukuna snapped lowly at the bunned-man hunched over the counter. 

Choso’s brows rose in mock surrender, raising his hands up before stepping back with a smirk of amusement he didn’t bother to conceal. Understanding that you two clearly needed a moment, he slipped out from behind the counter and trudged to the back to make himself useful somewhere else. 

Ryo’s crimson eyes regarded you through gently furrowed brows, and by the look of guilt hidden deep within his guarded eyes— you already understood that just what you had suspected was correct. Gulping down the feeling of sand pooling in your throat, you managed a tight smile at him with the hopes of easing some of the tension. With a click of his jaw, his eyes drifted down to glare instead at the neat arrangement of flowers perched beside your hip. He toyed with one of the petals between his fingers. 

“You’re popular, huh?” He attempted, cringing at his own audacity, but he was speaking on pure, raging emotion rather than reason. 

“They’re from Satoru.” You explained with an attempted lightness.

“Is that supposed to make me feel any fucking better?” His sharp canines sunk mercilessly into his bottom lip as though to punish himself for the way he was snapping at you. 

To be fair, you already had an inkling of understanding about your boyfriend's thoughts on your dance partner. It came in the seemingly innocent questions about why it was always him that was paired with you for numbers, but you always brushed it off with the explanation that it was better to have a consistent partner to aid in the chemistry of the choreographies— which, you knew probably wasn’t the right term to use, but it didn’t make it any less true. 

Realistically, Sukuna knew he was irrational in his jealousy, but he couldn’t help it when it was always the same fucking man he was seeing with his hands all over you, hell— kissing you every so often for shows. It only made matters worse when Satoru had been invited for dinner with you all after one of your shows, and your boyfriend had to come to the startling realization that he bounced off of your glowing energy so effortlessly and in a way that he knew he could never. 

So, though he never gave you a hard time about it, it always lingered in the back of his mind. 

“Right, sorry.” You muttered quickly, the once bright spark in your eyes dulled as you cast your gaze to your lap. 

If anything, it pissed him off more. He expected you to get angry with him, yell, cry, anything. It was more than well-deserved. You only pushed it down though, looking back up after a moment with a forced smile to ask him how his day went. 

“My day?” He repeated incredulously. You nodded, a dam skillfully constructed behind your bewitching eyes. With a scoff, he leaned forward, his fist clenched onto the counter by your hip. “That’s it? You’re not gonna let me have it?”

“W-What do you mean?”

“I mean I fucking forgot our first Valentine’s Day.” Sukuna emphasized with an infuriated twitch of his brows. His eyes darted down to watch the way you gulped apprehensively. “I mean some other fucking lowlife had to be the one to get you flowers because I didn’t.”

“Ryo, it’s okay.” You quieted him with a placating hand to his chest. Your lashes fluttered as you glanced down once again for fear that he’d see right through you. “I know that’s… not really your thing. It’s okay.”

Your small shrug of feigned nonchalance sliced through him worse than if you had just ripped into him as he surely deserved. This was far worse. Not only could he see the swirling waves of hurt evidently pooling in your eyes and tensing your soft frame, but he was also coming to the startling realization that you were lowering your own expectations for him. It made him sick to his fucking stomach. 

“But that’s—” He stopped himself, already feeling how his voice was rising and each muscle in his body was contracting with the rage he reserved only for himself. Stepping back to take a deep breath, his ruby eyes glanced up at the ceiling to collect himself before he was tugging you carefully off the counter. “C’mon, we’ll talk about this at home.” 

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest the entire, painfully silent drive back to his apartment. It wasn’t born out of fear, but rather a manifestation of all the strength it was taking you to not break down as you so wanted to right now. That unique unease had you jolting nervously as the apartment door shut behind him that evening. 

Silently, you made your way to the kitchen, grunting with effort as you reached above your head to reach the vase in the cabinet above you. The struggle was only making the swell of your emotions rise, and you bit back your tears of frustration. After a moment, you felt him pressing against you, brushing your hand away to grasp at your target with ease. 

“Thanks.” You hoped you sounded as lighthearted as you were desperately trying to. 

Just as you moved to fill it with water, Ryo stopped you. You yelped in surprise as he hoisted you up to sit atop the kitchen counter, forcing you at eye level with him. His bulking arms came up to trap you between him. 

“Talk to me.” He demanded simply. 

“About what?”

“Yell at me. Get pissed. Cry— do something!” 

“I told you it’s not a big deal—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Sukuna laughed humorlessly with a shake of his head. Placing his hands on your thighs, he gently jostled at you. “Get mad. Tell me how the fuck you’re feeling!”

“Ryo—”

“Wanna hit me? Hit me—”

“Stop it!” You finally cried out, the tears you had been trying so ardently to restrain bursting at the seams. Shoving your face into your hands, you shook your head desolately. “Just stop it, okay? Yes, I’m upset, Ryo. I’m embarrassed. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

He fell silent, his brows furrowing as he tried to take in the reaction he had just been begging you for. Now that he had it though, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Releasing a tense sigh, he nodded encouragingly as he allowed his hands to massage at your thighs. 

“Keep going.”

“I-I just—” You smacked your hands back down onto your lap in frustration, looking up and allowing your tears to stream freely down your cheeks and temples. He clicked his tongue softly upon seeing the way you flushed at your own reaction. “I feel stupid for putting so much thought into it, and for assuming that it’s something that you cared about, and I got you that stupid book, and—”

“You got me a gift?” He interrupted feebly, the confession only serving to make him feel that much more guilty. 

Finally looking back down, you stared behind him to avoid his watchful eye. You offered a nod so subtle that he barely caught it. Reaching over, you grasped onto the small bag at the edge of the counter, your fingers toying with the handle shyly. He allowed you time to collect yourself, watching with bated breath as you reached into the bag and procured the deep crimson, leatherbound book. 

“Your other one is… too fragile for your temper.” You mumbled defensively once he slowly took it from your hands. 

Sukuna ran his calloused fingers over the textured material, huffing at himself in disbelief upon noticing his initials engraved intricately into the corner. The corners of his lips twitched up at your explanation, the thought you put into it filling his chest with the type of warmth he’d been pointedly avoiding his whole life. Shaking his head in resignation, he placed the book to the side before sliding his hands up to cup at your flushed cheeks. 

“You gotta start letting shit piss you off.” His voice was soft— far gentler than it had been just a few minutes ago. Your bleary eyes glistened as you stared back into his, your cheeks squished against his palms in a manner you had begun to notice he loved seeing. “I don’t get to tell you what’s important to you, you hear me?”

You nodded gingerly against his grip. Dipping down closer to you, his lips brushed against the furrow between your brows, willing it to disappear under his tender kiss. 

“It… pissed me off that you forgot about Valentine’s Day.” Your mumbled confession made him smile and press a soft kiss against your pout.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“What are you gonna do about it, huh?” The man teased, his teeth kissing your lips due to his wolfish grin that only grew when the blood rushed to your cheeks all over again. 

“You’re such a creep, Ryo.” You huffed in feigned annoyance in an attempt to conceal your bashfulness. 

“Mmm, bet that pisses you off, huh?” His sturdy hands left your face to curl around your hips. In one swift motion, you were being yanked off the counter, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

“Yeah, it does.” You replied breathlessly as he began pressing heated kisses down your jaw on his way to the bedroom. With an airy moan, your hands reached up to curl into his hair. 

Kicking the door shut behind him, he flopped back down onto the bed. The abrupt drop made you squeak in surprise, and he grunted out a laugh as you landed atop of him. 

“Tell me more.” He insisted before latching onto your lips hungrily. 

“It— mmph— it pisses me off when you play your music so loud when y-you’re in the shower, and I’m trying to watch something.” You felt his lips curl up against yours. 

A shiver ran down your spine when his frigid hands crept under your sweater to toss it over your head. The sudden gust of cool air made you gasp, huddling closer to him while he continued to chase your lips. 

“Keep going.” Sukuna growled with a pinch to your ass that had you arching against him in anticipation. 

“Ah— it pisses me off that you never tell me what you’re thinking, but you always need to know my thoughts.” Your fingers seemed to move on their own accord to pull his shirt off. The hand that had settled on your rear creeped up to push your bottoms down before kicking them off with his foot, and you were quickly doing the same to his until you were both bared to each other. “It pisses me off that Satoru makes you so jealous.”

“Don’t fucking say his name when you’re on top of me.” He warned lowly, smacking at your waist to grind you against his stiff cock. You gasped out a moan, falling forward and steadying your hands on his chest. 

“It pisses me off that you make me forget how mad I am everytime you touch me.” Your voice broke out into a blissed out cry as he lifted you to sink down onto him with an agonizingly slow pace. He threw his head back against the mattress when your nails dug into his pecks.

“Want me to stop?”

“No— god no, Ryo, please.”

“Then show me how much I piss you off and use me like you fucking hate me.” 

No matter how much he assured you followed through with his lecherous command— till your hips stuttered and those typically athletic thighs of yours were giving out under you— Ryomen was sure he couldn’t love you anymore then he did as you allowed him the privilege of seeing even the parts of you you thought were so ugly. Still, he waited, his fingers pressing a bruising grip into your waist to stop himself from taking over as was so routine for him. 

His baritone grunts and growls only spurred you on until you could no longer, and the fevered roll of your hips slowed. His hands creeped up your back as you dropped forward onto his chest, fingers threading through the hair on your nape. With a knowing smirk, he tilted his head until his lips brushed against your perspiring cheeks.

“You done being pissed off, doll?” His grin only widened when you nodded desolately against him at his breathless question. “Mmm, then let me show you how much I love you, yeah?”

And he made good on his promise, swiftly sitting up to grind you against him himself, his biceps flexing with each lift of your spent body. You could only cling onto his neck, pressing hungry kisses against his lips and allowing each of your strained moans to dance with his, twirling and dipping about the intimate space between you. 

Ryomen made love to you until the tears that spilled from your eyes were no longer from your mounting frustration or your needless embarrassment. He kissed at each one, promising for every drop that for as long as he lived they’d be the only type of tears he’d allow you to shed for him again. 

For the first time in months, he was awake before you— before the sun even rose to assure you didn’t beat him to it. Unlike him, you didn’t so much as stir when he carefully removed himself from the bed that morning. With no one around to witness it, Sukuna allowed himself to stare down at your sleeping form with an aching tenderness that reopened the wounds of his self-hate for ever having been the reason that ethereal face of yours ever wore anything but a smile. 

An adoring smile tugged at his lips, one he didn’t try to hide, as there was no one around to bear witness to the pathetic fool you’d managed to morph him into with your merciful soul and delicate turn of phrase. Brushing back the hair that clung to your cheeks, he pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled the comforter further up around your exposed skin before slipping out of the space he’d carved out special just for you.

When you woke, it was from the repeated curses echoing from outside the bedroom. Every muscle in your body still ached, your thighs feeling just as heavy as your eyes did when you tried to crack them open. With a hum, you buried your face deeper into the pillow that the magnetic scent of Ryo still clung to, willing yourself to go back to sleep. 

“Ow— you little fucking shit!” 

Blinking down at the crumpled sheets of the mattress where your boyfriend was supposed to be, you were now certainly more awake then you had been the first time his colorful language disturbed your rest that morning. Sitting up with a grunt, you slipped off the bed and quickly tugged on one of Sukuna’s shirts. Tucking your arms into the sleeves to fend off the cold, you cautiously crept out of the bedroom. 

Your sharp gasp had him spinning around to face you, revealing the two, ultra-fine scratches slashed across his cheek. He almost looked embarrassed of the predicament he’d been caught in, the tiniest of black kittens in one hand and a now wrinkled, red ribbon hanging from the other. 

“Ryo, is that—”

“The cat that’s about to be shoved back into a fucking bush? Yeah, that’s him.” He growled in frustration, setting the frazzled kitten back down onto the counter to attempt putting on his bowed ribbon once again. It continued to hiss at his brash man-handling, biting at his fingers each time they came too close. 

“Easy, he’s just a baby!” You gushed excitedly, lunging forward to snatch the ribbon out of his hands with a force he wasn’t even aware you had in you. 

The man watched in barely disguised disdain as you scratched tenderly under the spawn’s chin, pressing a doting kiss to his tiny head before slipping the collar around his neck with ease. It mewled softly at you, so theatrically innocent that Sukuna was sure the damn thing was conspiring against him. 

“See? He just needed a little love.” You beamed lovingly, scooping the kitten into your arms to nuzzle him against your cheek. As the creature rubbed his head against your face, your glittering eyes stared up at your boyfriend hopefully. “Is he mine?”

“Yeah, you brat.” He grumbled in defeat, internally melting at the look of pure, blissful contentedness that broke out onto your face for that bastard of a cat. Careful to keep his still bleeding cheek a safe distance from the thing, he hooked his arm around your neck to pull you in and press a chaste kiss to your temple. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

A pathetic, misty haze glazed over your eyes as you looked up at him with all the love in the world— the kind he still never felt as though he deserved, but still the kind you not once made him feel like he had to earn. 

The kitten was purring contentedly with your forefinger’s rhythmic stroke behind his ears, making you smile knowingly. 

“Look, Ryo, he’s just like you.”

“I’m gonna take him back to the fucking clinic.”

a/n: SO SORRY FOR THE LATE POST work BEAT MY ASS but Happy Valentine's Day to each and every one of you. I'm sending virtual hugs and kisses RAGHHH

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[nymphoniah]

thinking about old man logan all tired, but you’re so needy that you take matters into your own hands…

you find logan resting in his office, seated on his leather arm chair. white button up messily undone, revealing his worn out beater underneath. his chest hair peeking through the shallow neckline of the shirt, leaving your mind to wonder about.

you couldn’t help but approach him. curling up in logan’s lap, your head resting against his broad chest. your fingers gently rubbing against his ribbed tank top that fits snug against him. his body isn’t what it once was before, but he still remains defined and muscular.

logan’s salt-and-pepper beard tickling your rose tinted cheeks as you litter his face in kisses. you can’t help but take in his beauty, he absolutely aged like wine.

moving your fingers from his chest to the shell of his ears, you swiftly remove his glasses from his face. you press your lips gently against the crow’s feet that defined his tired eyes, making him crack a tiny smile.

“you’re so handsome, logan.” you sigh, placing his glasses onto the side table placed on his right. you rest your head back on his chest, taking a deep sigh. the scent of his cologne floods your senses, bourbon and vanilla.

nsfw below <3

you shift around, straddling yourself onto his left thigh. your legs wrapped ‘round him like a vice whilst your core pulses for attention against his tense quad.

“looks like someone’s needy,” he hums out, placing his hands on your hips, gently guiding you back and forth against him. “cmon baby, take it out on me.” you gently rock your hips, keeping a slow and steady pace.

with age, he’s lost his stamina for sure, but he always has the energy for you. making sure that you get off, anytime and anywhere. you’re his princess, and he makes sure to spoil you.

your hips rock in tandem against his thigh as he rhythmically bounces his leg to match your pace. you mewl in pleasure, tilting your head back as ecstasy fills your mind.

logan places gentle, sloppy kisses against your neck, making sure to pay close attention to your pulse point. he’s nipping at the soft skin of your neck, concentrating on one area enough to leave a maroon bruise the next day.

both of your movements become more erratic. as your pace quickens, his hands move to your chest, groping your breasts, thumbs nimbly working at your buds, rolling and gently tugging on them.

you hiss out in pleasure, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. “so close…” you whimper, biting your bottom lip tightly to alleviate the growing tension in your stomach.

“let it out bub, i know you can do it for me,” he grunts into your neck, his hands finding their way back to your hips, pushing you harder down onto him.

absolutely soaking through your panties, you can feel the patch of wetness you left on his light washed denim jeans. you’re faltering on the edge, not wanting to let yourself go so soon.

“you want this princess, let go for your daddy,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, and you finally tick.

you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you, your pants becoming more and more exhausted. your hips thrust forward and hard around him one last time, and the knot in your stomach finally snaps.

“f-fuck logan, fuck!” you whine, your combined moans filling his office.

you gently pull away from him, pressing your forehead against his, your lust blown pupils meeting his stern gaze.

“yknow how to rile me up,” he says cheekily, gently molding your ass between his fingertips. “almost got me to come in my pants like a teenager,” logan snarkily adds.

“shut it old man,” you quipped, taking his glasses from the side table and placing them back on him so that they sit on the edge of his nose bridge. you press a quick kiss to his lips which soon formed into a smirk.

“let me show you what this old man can do…” he murmurs against your lips.

[strnilolover]

٠ ࣪⭑ blood and kisses

warnings : mentions of weed and getting high. mention of bleeding. reader accidentally peeling her lip, making it bleed. make out. chris sucks on her lip as it’s bleeding. dealer!chris and soft!reader. nothing else (?).

it wasn’t often that you got high like this—the world feeling slow, warm and hazy. your limbs feeling as if their weighed down, but your mind is light.

the smoke filled the room, wrapping around you and chris in a thick blanket. chris didn’t let you smoke his stuff often, since it was such a strong strain and your tolerance being absolute shit.

but this was for you both to wind down—having such a long day and you just wanted to relax.

you hadn’t been paying attention for a while, your gaze staring at the tv as your back rested against the headboard of your bed. you weren’t really paying attention to the tv anyways, only hearing little words here and there.

you didn’t even realize that your teeth were digging into your bottom lip, pinching the skin and peeling it away until the sting hits—a sharp little pain that barely registers in your mind.

there’s the faint, metallic taste of blood, rich and warm that lands on your tongue as you poke it out to run over your lip. you pause, blinking lazily, and bringing your hand up—brushing your fingers over your lip.

chris notices immediately.

he’s been watching you—his eyes half-lidded and slow-moving as he tracks your every little movement to make sure you were doing okay. his hand moves before his words do, hand coming out to grip your face, fingers gripping your skin firmly, tilting your face toward him.

“the fuck are you doing?” he asks, brows furrowed as he studies your face more. his eyes flicking down to where your tongue poked out to swipe across your lip once more before moving back up to catch your eyes.

you don’t answer, just part your lips slightly, still tasting the coppery tang that was left behind. chris exhales through his nose, his thumb brushing against your jaw. his grip tightens just a little, just enough to send a slow shiver down your spine.

“you always do this,” he mutters, his eyes flicking down to your mouth again. he moves his thumb, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip, smearing the wetness there before pushing down slightly. you let out a soft wince at the feeling. “tearing yourself up without even realizing it.”

your breath stutters, and the fog in your mind thickens as you watch him, completely transfixed. his fingers press a little harder against your skin, keeping you still.

“does it hurt?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. you swallow, your throat dry, and shake your head. “not much.” chris hums, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he studies you more. then, before you can even register what’s happening, he leans in.

his lips presses to yours, slow and firm. he latches onto your bottom lip, sucking at the small wound, his tongue swiping over the sting. the sensation sends a sharp jolt through you—pain and pleasure mixing into something that makes your head spin even harder.

a quiet gasp slips from you, your fingers twitching where they rest against your lap. chris doesn’t let up. he deepens it, his mouth warm and insistent, his free hand moving to the side of your neck, his palm pressing against your throat like he’s holding you there, keeping you under his control.

the heat between you is suffocating. it settles deep in your belly, coils through your limbs, making you feel hot all over. when he finally pulls back, his lips are red—whether from you or the kiss, you’re not sure. his breathing is heavier, his pupils blown wide as he watches you.

“you like that,” he murmurs, thumb swiping over your swollen lip again, his voice lower than before. your body is thrumming, buzzing in a way that has nothing to do with the high. “so do you,” you whisper.

chris chuckles, “yeah. i do.”

and then he’s kissing you again, harder this time, like he’s only just realizing how much he really fucking likes it.

[danikamariewrites]

Straddle Me (smut)

Eris x reader

Notes: another installment of my favorite lil series I write for Eris 🥰 I realized the other day I really written any smut for Eris besides this stuff, then I felt bad lmao. I feel like I’m neglecting my sweet baby boy

Warnings: dry humping (I hate saying that), allusions to oral

Finally, Eris thinks, stretching his long body against the soft blankets. Alone at last. He closes his eyes, folding his arms behind his head.

It had been a very long day. Beron had required more attention from Eris than usual all afternoon. Sending him on errands all over the Forest House that brought him to advisor after advisor. Then he had his generals to meet with to go over recruitment.

It was exhausting.

And on top of all of that he hadn’t even seen you today!

You had woken up before Eris this morning to spend time with his mother. As the wedding draws closer you’ve begun shadowing Lady Autumn, learning what her duties are as the High Lord’s wife.

Eris couldn’t wait for you to return. For you to be safely in his arms.

The want for you to come back was short lived. Your hurried, excited footsteps padded across the carpet in the sitting room. Flinging the door open to the bedroom, a huge smile on your face, you let out a joyous squeal and launch yourself on the bed.

“Eris! I missed you!” You say giddily, pecking kisses to his freckled cheeks. He cradles you to his chest pressing a long kiss to your forehead, inhaling your scent. “I missed you too, little fox. Tell me about your day.” His tone was gentle and full of genuine curiosity.

To Eris’s dismay you untangle yourself from his embrace. Sitting up, you straddle his stomach, your bare things caging his clothed torso as your dress pools around the two of you. You hold onto his hands, absentmindedly playing with his fingers as you ramble about what his mother showed you.

Looking down you notice his pupils blown wide as they stare at where your legs are placed. You giggle, knowing Eris’s thoughts are wandering to something dirty that he’s itching to show you.

You wanted it too. Ever since you started reading smutty romance books things have gotten heated between you and your mate. You craved his touch every moment you could get it.

Your eyes grow wide, sparkling with mischief as an idea blossoms in your mind. Your new goal: make Eris feel as needy as you have.

The thought has a wet spot growing rapidly in your panties. You pulled his hands to your chest, cradling them and loving the heat radiating from them. “Tell me about your day, my love.”

On command, Eris starts to list everything he did today. If you wanted to hear about it he would tell you every godsdamn detail you wanted. Hell, Eris would tell you the color of the rocks stuck in his shoe if you demanded it.

As your mate's deep melodic voice fills your ears you slowly slide down his body, resting over his crotch. You begin to lightly grind your hips back and forth. Teasing your mate at an agonizing pace.

Eris tried to ignore the feeling of you rubbing against his cock. He tripped over his words as he tried to focus on you, not your movements. He could feel the blood rushing to his cock as it pressed against his pants.

He so badly wants to pin you to the mattress and tease you until your legs are shaking, begging Eris to let you come.

You pick up the pace of your hips. Eris bites down on his lips to keep from moaning loud enough for the Forest House to hear him. “Little fox… You’re going to be the death of me if you keep this up.”

The giggle that leaves your lips almost sends him over the edge. Gods, he’s going to come in his pants like a teenager.

Eris holds your hips in a vice grip that you fight through. You lean down, pressing your breasts into his chest. “Let me make you feel good, my mate.” You whispered in his ear.

Your mate was always taking charge in making you feel good. For once you wanted to rile him up. Make him feel good.

His hands slip from your hips to rest on your thighs, allowing you to continue. Resting your hands flat on his chest you quicken your pace. Biting your lip you let out a small moan. The feeling of Eris’s hard cock pressing against your soaked panties, rubbing against your clit has your back arching. Definitely better than your fingers.

You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you and Eris get this worked up over each other. And you haven’t even taken your clothes off.

Dragging your nails down his chest, Eris tenses and groans. His grip turns bruising on your hips helping you move faster. You lean down to whisper in his ear again. “Come, Eris. Let go baby, you know you want to.”

Eris pushes his face into your neck, his moans muffled as his thighs and cock twitch under you.

“Fuck,” he groans, holding you tight to his body. You smile pleased with yourself. Running your fingers through his hair you say soft ‘I love you’s to help him calm down.

Propping yourself up you bat your lashes at him innocently. Eris looks down at you breathless, “You are going to be the death of me, little fox.” You giggle and slither down his body. His eyes go wide as you reach to undo the ties of his pants. Eris knows he should feel embarrassed by the stain on his pants, but he can’t help but get turned on by your hungry gaze.

“What are you doing, little fox?” You send him a smirk and tug at the fabric restricting him. “Getting you cleaned up.”