wallywaffle - Tumblr blog

wallywaffle · 5 hours

Text

Blacksmith!König x Farmers Wife Part 2 (fem)

Part 1

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, cheating, p in v, oral

1.3k word count

You wake up before the sun begins to rise. The first thing you do is rush to the bathroom to wash your body well; you want to smell fresh for König. Last night he consumed your dreams. Dreams of his hard, muscular body pressing up against yours as he drips sweat down on to you. The thought sends chills down your spine.

As you linger in front of the wardrobe dripping wet you grab your mauve red dress, the fanciest one you have. You dress quickly, spritzing yourself with the perfume you were gifted the day of your wedding; it’s remained on your vanity untouched all this time. With one last look in the mirror, you rush out the door to the stables.

The ride seems to pass by quicker than before, your mind wandering to unholy places helped consume that time. You turn down the familiar dirt path, riding up to the barn to dismount your horse. He’s not in the barn, so you turn towards his home instead. You climb the two steps to his front door, knocking softly.

König sits in his kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee when he barely hears your knock. His eyes dart towards the door and step forward. Only wearing jeans, he opens the door to look down and see you. Your eyes drop to his chest before meeting his gaze again and smiling. The golden hue from the sun causes your eyes to shimmer and skin to glow. He stands there for a while, looking down at your cleavage then slowly back up to your eyes.

“What can I do for you, Schatz?”

The way he speaks sends a shiver down your spine; his wandering eyes don’t go unnoticed by you, causing you to blush. For a moment, you forget the reason you came here. All you can focus on is his sculpted body and shining blue eyes.

“I- I forgot my ax.”

“Ja?” König leans against his door frame, looking you up and down still. “Let’s go fetch it then.”

You step aside as he walks forward, closing the front door behind him, following him like a little puppy to the barn. His back muscles flex, almost putting you in a trance. He looks exactly like the drawing in books of Greek gods.

König pulls open the door of the barn, looking down to where he remembers you placing it. He bends down and grabs it, turning to face you now. You hold your hands out to grab it, but he doesn’t give it to you. Instead, he just lingers, gazing down at you as he steps forward. The smell of your floral perfume hits his nose as he stands only a few inches from you.

“You came all the way here, dressed in such a lovely dress…” König reaches out with one hand to rest it on your waist, “smelling of flowers, just as the sun comes up…for an ax?”

A small blush crosses your cheeks as he calls you out. His massive hand on your waist feels so warm and welcoming, making you crave the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. Only a jumble of words spills out, not able to think quickly on your feet while so flustered.

“You came back for more, ja?” König leans in closer. “You came back for me?”

Before you even answer he leans in and kisses you, carefully dropping the ax to the floor. With both hands he grips your hips and squeezes as he pulls you against his chest. His mouth opens, slipping his tongue past your lips. Your tongues swirl around one another’s, causing your pussy to tingle from excitement.

König lets his hands slip to your ass, squeezing as he lifts you up into his arms; you wrap your legs around his torso as he walks forward with you. He takes your lack of protest as consent for him to do what he’s about to. Knowing Michael, he can imagine just how desperate and touch starved you are. Such a low man with such a goddess of a wife.

As König walks you into his home, you kiss and bite on his neck and chest; the salty taste of his sweaty skin becomes addicting. You breathe in the intoxicating musk you got a sample of yesterday; you’ve been craving it ever since. His hands hold you tightly as he crosses the threshold into the bedroom. He gently tosses you on to the bed, his lips crash against yours while his hands travel underneath the hem of your skirt.

In his hands he bunches up the fabric, slipping his fingers between your legs. You’re already soaked, causing König to let out a pleased hum. “God, I want you.” He whispers as he pulls away and lowering his head between your legs. The sweet smell of your arousal consumes him as he kisses your pussy.

He licks his lips, tasting you before leaning back in and completely burying his face in your cunt. His long, fat tongue finds your tight pussy, pressing himself in and wiggling his tongue as his hands part your thighs. You look down as you pull your fabric back more, watching as he eats you up like a starved man.

König swipes his tongue up, flicking over your clit before taking your small bud into his mouth and sucking. This causes your abdomen to tense, you cry out, begging him to not stop. He can’t stop, your pussy is like a delicacy and he’s just only begun.

“K- König…god…”

He shakes his head back and forth, his fingers digging into your supple thighs even more as your moans become loud pleas for your ever approaching release. Your thighs press against his head, bucking your hips up against his tongue as you cry out for König. If he tries to breathe, all he gets is a strong and overwhelming smell of you; it’s perfect.

König doesn’t stop as your legs slowly relax. He looks up to watch you untie the corset of your dress, exposing your beautiful breasts to him. With one hand he moves up to pinch your perky nipple, tugging on it slightly as his tongue laps between your folds.

“I want your cock.” You beg loudly. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Gladly.” He growls as he pulls back.

König stands, his eyes glued to your breasts as he undoes his belt buckle and pulls down his pants. His heavy cock springs free from the restraints of his pants, the tip leaking; desperate to feel your tiny cunt. Without even slipping out of your dress, he grabs your thighs and pulls you towards the edge of the bed. He looks down, watching as he lines the head of his cock with you.

“Mein Gott.” König moans as he watches your tight pussy swallow his massive cock. “Look at you, taking all of me.”

He pulls back and slowly pushes back in, his slow motion almost a tease for you. All you want is to be destroyed by him; bruises, bites, and all. “Please, fuck me harder.” You beg, your tone of voice almost pathetic.

By the time you stroll back towards the farm, the sun has begun to set. The whole journey back, you sniff your dress and enjoy the lingering scent of him on you. You can’t help but to smile and act giddy as you recall the events of today. Hours in bed with König as he took his time to learn every inch of your body; you’ve never experienced that type of love making before. Even when it was rough, he was still careful with you.

You stable the horse and walk towards your house. Michael sits on the porch drinking a beer as usual, with an unpleasant look on his ugly mug. His eyes travel over your dress. You never wear it, so why today?

“Where the fuck have you been?” Michael shouts as you get closer.

You say nothing, already annoyed that this is the man you’re forced to return home to after experiencing König. Instead, you drop the ax at his feet and walk past him into the house. Offering him no explanation. He looks down at the ax stunned. Did you…no. You wouldn’t, right?

106 notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 7 hours

Text

Blacksmith!König x Farmers Wife (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 2

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, lust, unhappy marriage, thoughts of cheating, p in v

1.4k word count

On a hot summer day, you find yourself lost in thought as you chop vegetables in the kitchen. The heat is unbearable, small beads of sweat drip down your forehead and onto your brow before you wipe it away. Your small sense of peace is disrupted when your husband slams the back door open. You jump, turning your head to see your husband covered in sweat and dirt with an angry look on his face.

“The fucking axe is too damn dull to chop a goddamned thing!” He tosses the ax on top of the kitchen table.

“Get that off the table!” You shout in annoyance as you turn to face him, slamming your knife down.

“Calm down woman.” Your husband walks to sit at the table. “I need you to take it to the blacksmith. Get the horse shoes I ordered while you’re there too.”

“I’m in the middle of cooking-”

“Don’t talk back to me.” He points a finger at you while giving you a stern look. “Leave.”

With a glare you grab the apron that rests over your skirt to wipe your hands before untying it and tossing it onto the kitchen counter. You walk to grab the ax from the table before walking past your husband and out of the house. Under your breath you mumble insults towards your husband as your approach the stable.

You hike your dress up to get on the back of the horse and head out to the blacksmiths, nearly half an hour’s ride. The sun beat down on your skin, the lack of a breeze makes the air feel thick. At least the scenery is nice. Ever since you got married, you really don’t leave the house much. Everyday all you see is the farm and the small woods across from your home.

As you approach the edge of the local town, you turn down a dirt path that leads to the blacksmiths. You can hear the sound of him working as you get closer, seeing the man’s figure as he moves. You’ve never met this man before, causing a small wave of anxiety to come over you.

With the ax in hand, you approach the doors to the barn he’s working in. The heat is unbearable in the small space with a large fire in the background. As König catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, he stops what he’s doing and turns to you. His face is angular with a deep scar across the right side of his face.

“Hallo.” His eyes drift up and down your body as he steps closer. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, uh. My husband ordered shoes for the horse and needs this sharpened.” You hold up the axe for him to grab.

König’s fingers lightly graze your own as he grabs the handle to take it from you. His eyes look over the dull head of the ax before nodding. He turns, walking to his work station and giving you and full view of his muscular back in the undershirt he has on.

“What’s the order name?”

“Uh- my husband’s name is Michael Andrews.”

“You’re his wife?” König asks, almost surprised that a man like him could possibly land a beauty like you.

“I am.”

“Hm. Okay. I’ll work on this and then fetch the shoes for you.”

“Thank you so much.”

König nods to you and turns to grab his tool to begin sharpening the head of the ax. With every move he makes, the muscles in his arms flex. The focused look on his face makes him even more attractive. From behind him the fire cast a golden hue around his massive body.

“W- what’s your name?” You ask, trying to distract your mind from the thought of what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his massive arms.

“Alexander König, but I just go by König.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You saw so softly he almost misses it.

König looks back up at you, his eyes landing on your chest where your breasts sit perfectly. He smirks at you before looking back down. The fact that you’re Michael’s wife truly boggles his mind; such an ugly and unpleasant man.

Working in these conditions has left König absolutely filthy. Usually when your husband is covered in dirt you find it repulsive, but König on the other hand was a different story. The way the smut blackens his pale white skin, his blond hair polluted with grime. You can only imagine what he would smell like. His strong masculine musk consuming your nostrils… You shift your legs as you feel a tingle between your legs from your thoughts wandering.

Once König is finished, he polishes off the sharpened edge. He inspects his work before smiling at himself. His body turns and approaches you. As he does you gaze up at him, his massive height making you feel so small. He stops only a few inches from you; intruding on your personal space, but you don’t mind.

“All ready.” He lowers the ax, resting it against the wooden wall of the barn.

“Thank you. What about the shoes?”

“Hm, right.” He lifts his head looking past you at your horse. “Bring him around back, I’ll put them on.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course, Schatz.” König winks at you when he calls you that.

With a small smile you nod, turning to go grab your horse and lead him around the building to meet König. He walks up to you both after a while holding the shoes and supplies he needs. Your eyes obviously roam down his body, focusing on the massive bulge in his jeans. The impression nearly going down his leg. It’s almost like you’re mesmerized, not noticing that König is smirking at your obvious gaze.

He places the items on the small bench, turning to look at you. “Do you work on the farm too?”

“No.”

“I can tell, your hands are soft.” He comments so casually, causing you to blush.

König’s attention turns to you as he approaches you, nearly pinning you against the fence behind you. He shamelessly looks down at your cleavage as he towers over you. One of his hands reaches out to feel the texture of your hair, letting out a soft hum. The feeling of a soft woman isn’t something he’s used to. His scar and standoffish personality scaring off most women.

“You’re a beautiful woman.”

“Oh, I’m nothing special.”

“Don’t speak poorly of yourself. You’re beautiful.” His eyes roam over your face and caresses your jawline.

“Sir, I’m married.”

He looks back and forth between your eyes before nodding and backing away. “I apologize for overstepping Mrs.” His voice speaks so softly as his thumb caresses your lower lip before stepping back.

You ride home to your husband with the mental image of König so close to you, touching you. It’s as if you can still feel his touch on your lips. The thought of how big his cock must be consuming your mind. As you approach home, you try to calm yourself down.

After you put your horse in the stable, you rush into the house. Michael is sitting on the kitchen chair still, smoking his pipe. You march over to him and straddle his lap, kissing him as your hips grind against him. He drops his pipe on the table, in a hurry to unzip his pants.

Michael pulls his cock out as you lift yourself up to remove your undergarments. You lower yourself on his cock with your eyes closed, thinking about König’s piercing blue eyes gazing down at you. A soft moan leaves your lips as you begin to bounce on him. His hands grip your hips to encourage your bouncing; his hips thrust up to meet your movements.

You lean back to pull your breasts free from your dress to hear your husband let out a lout moan, his hands holding you down so his cock is fully in you. He cums deep inside of you, after only maybe a minute of sex. While his head has fallen back in a sleepy bliss of pleasure, you sit there glaring at him with disdain. Quickly, you stand up and grab a towel to clean yourself up.

“Where is the ax?” Michael asks as he watches you wipe his cum as it drips from you.

“Oh, shit. I must have left it.”

“Jesus Christ, y/n.” He snaps at you as he sits up. “Now I have to go get it.”

“No,” You cut him off quickly. “I’ll get it first thing tomorrow.”

Part 2

377 notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 7 hours

Text

⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹

4K notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 8 hours

Text

Simon Riley being a menace, but subtly…

Simon Riley hiding your keys as an excuse for you to ask him for help. he does it sparingly, every other month or so - he just likes seeing you light up and sigh when he ‘finds them’… he had them in his back pocket for twenty minutes.

Simon Riley purposely putting your favorite snacks somewhere you can’t reach after grocery shopping. it was an honest mistake! he was totally just on autopilot and wasn’t even thinking about it… he’ll get them for you if you say ‘please’.

Simon Riley noticing your phone, forgotten and discarded on a table. he picks it up, doesn’t return it immediately. your phones missing, but Simon’s there to hand it back to you. when you’re going through your camera gallery later that week you notice a wall of photos… Simon, his masked face from different angles, a couple fishbowl lens shots, and then buried in the middle is one of his balaclava tugged up slightly - cracking a small, toothy smile at your camera.

Ghost being a menace, but it’s in your face…

Ghost, who’s walking in front of you, stops suddenly so you smack into his back. dressed in full uniform and bulky, looks over his shoulder and scoffs… “watch where you’re walking.”, pretending this isn’t the fourth time he’s done it today.

Ghost who has his patience running thin when you ignore him. he’s been polite about it, maybe a bit short. you’ve decided to play dumb, get back at him for messing with you, “Didn’t quite catch that, Ghost.”, and he smiles under his balaclava… “That’s alright, we’ll play a little Simon Says then, yeah?”, a low, rumbly chuckle resonating in his chest, “Simon says look at me, lovie.”.

4K notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 17 hours

Text

Career Day

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, crack, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: Your child comes home and says tomorrow is career day at their school. They want to bring you and their daddy to school to show off how cool you two are, but.. their dad doesn’t exactly have the most conventional job.

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA

SATORU

“My daddy is the strongest!” Your son explains to a room full of his peers. Satoru is proudly beaming next to him. You note how much they look alike. The white hair, the bright blue eyes. Your son looks like he came straight from Satoru and had nothing to do with you.

But your son, Aoi, definitely had your personality.

“Nuh uh. He can’t be the strongest. Superman’s the strongest!” Another kid protested with an unconvinced frown.

“Well, my daddy is like superman!” Aoi retorts, keeping his headstrong personality like his mama. “Actually, he’s even better than superman!”

“He’s not even wearing a suit!” A different child speaks up. You share a nervous glance with Satoru. He’s enjoying this all too much.

“He doesn’t need a suit to be the strongest, dumbass!” Your sweet boy yells, and you promptly cover his mouth. Satoru is laughing his ass off, making the entire situation worse.

Correction, Aoi trying out his dad’s signature hand signal and saying “domain expansion” made the entire situation so much worse.

“You’re grounded, Aoi. You can’t say those things to other people. It’s rude and hurtful.” You say as you and Satoru walk your young boy home. Aoi lets out a small frustrated groan.

“I’m still getting him ice cream.” Satoru interjects with a proud smile. “My boy tried to cast his first domain at just six-years-old. He deserves a sweet treat.” Two wide smiles look up at you, and you realize you’re outnumbered here. Rolling your eyes, you nudge Satoru.

“I want a girl next.”

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako begged Suguru to come to their school’s career day. He was of course hesitant to do so, given that Jujutsu sorcery was still a hidden art in Japan. He didn’t exactly know how to explain his career to a bunch of kids.

He had a plan though. He would just tell the children that he was a preacher at a church. It’s not… completely a lie. He was a leader for.. a type of church.

You and Geto walk into the cozy looking classroom and see a load of other parents there. Your husband grimaced at the thought of having to interact with all these… people.

You give Suguru a reassuring squeeze of the hand. “It’ll be okay. Anything for the girls, right?” You whisper into his ear, making him nod. Anything for the girls.

When it’s finally Mimiko and Nanako’s turn to explain what their daddy does for a living, your small family gathers at the front of the classroom. Plenty of small innocent faces and reassuring smiles fill the room.

“Okay girls, tell us what your parents do for a living.” Their teacher prompts with a warm smile.

“My daddy swallows balls for a living!” Nanako says proudly with a beaming smile.

The kids erupted into laughter while their parents gave you two disgusted looks.

To make matters worse, “He also hates filthy mo-“ Mimiko tries to add on, but Geto quickly covers her mouth with his hand.

After explaining what a vivid imagination your twins have, you go on to explain that Geto is a leader at a church, and well, that doesn’t go over too well either.

“Homeschool?” Geto suggests as the four of you walk home.

“Most definitely.” You agree. Mimiko and Nanako are now educated by you at the home, where they can’t out their dad for swallowing balls.

TOJI

“Mama, make papa come to career day.” Your young son, Megumi, demanded. He had a small little pout on his face, and his arms were firmly crossed over his chest. Behind him, Toji stood, shaking his head at his son’s determination.

He often did this: telling you to make Toji do something because you were the only person who could make Toji do anything. After all these years, mans was still wrapped around your finger.

“Baby, Papa’s job is kinda private.” You explain quietly as you pet Megumi’s soft hair.

The small boy’s look of determination shifted to a look of reserve. Even as a young child, he wasn’t great at showing when his feelings were hurt, but you could always tell.

“Gumi.” You say his name softly, bending over to look at the boy’s flat expression.

You were also the only one who could coax Megumi into showing his real emotions.

Tears welled in his eyes, and his bottom lip started quivering. “I don’t wanna be the only one whose parents didn’t come.”

“Oh baby.” You frown as you pull your son into a hug. You glare upwards at Toji, and his eyes widened slightly. He knew what that look meant. “You’re going to career day.” You say to him, leaving no room for argument.

The next day,

“Okay Mr. Fushiguro, what do you do for a living?” The teacher asks Toji as he’s sat next to Megumi. Your son is actually smiling, enjoying the fact that Toji actually came to career day.

“People pay me a large sum of money, and I take care of someone for them.” Toji explains vaguely.

“Oh! Like a doctor?” One of the kids asked with an impressed smile.

“Sure, like a doctor.” Your husband lies, knowing that he does quite the opposite of what a doctor does.

SUKUNA

The look on the kids faces as your tall, muscular, tatted husband walked into the classroom was hilarious. Most of them were completely mortified, giving Sukuna frightened stares.

Your husband was completely unfazed. If anything, he was soaking in the kids’ fear. He sat at the front of the room with a look of arrogance.

Your nephew, Yuji, sat between you two. No, he was technically not your kid, but he didn’t have anyone else to bring to career day. So, Unc Sukuna and Auntie Yn were to the rescue.

“And.. what do you do for work, sir?” The teacher asked in almost a judgmental tone as she eyed Sukuna. You couldn’t tell if she despised him or wanted to fuck him.

“I don’t work. I live off tithe.” Sukuna bluntly answered with a shrug. His lopsided smile never left his face.

“What’s a tithe?” A small child asked quietly.

“It means people pay me out of fear of that I’ll harm them if they don’t.” Your husband gives a child a sharp stare with a challenging smile. He wanted the kids to keep asking questions. The thought of scaring multiple children all at once fueled him.

“Like… beat them up?” Another child asked.

“Like eating their snot-nosed children.” Sukuna answered with a toothy grin. The children all shrieked and cried in terror. Hell, even their parents looked frightened.

“Ryomen.” You chide as you look over towards your husband. He was laughing maniacally, even slapping his knee like the old man he was.

Yuji never invited you two to another career day.

737 notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 17 hours

Text

Saw this on Pinterest, had to share😍

Cr: @sarybomb

1K notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 17 hours

Text

I think the biggest thing mascot horror things need to get a grip on is the reasonable balance of cute/creepy. The mascot in question needs to be cute enough to realistically be for children but scary enough to actually make for effective horror. Most games always lean too far in either direction and idk maybe it's just me but immersion with these kinds of games are important for me to actually find enjoyment in them.

40K notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 17 hours

Text

brown works so hard and does so much and everyone is so mean to her. coffee chocolate hair leather tea wood eyes broth a warm coat autumn leaves caramelized onions the crust on a loaf of bread. all things good and warm and kind are brown. bitch!

120K notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 17 hours

Text

Simon Riley just loves eating you out.

Thick tongue lapping at your gushing hole, slurping up the sweet liqueur that you leak as you whine, puffy clit pulsing under his rough touch as you mewl out his name.

“So fucking good,” he would slur, drunk on the pure taste of you as his muscle prods at your entrance, licking among the gummy walls as he practically whines.

“S-Si,” you quip, voice shaky as you buck your hips against his face, stubble rubbing against the plush of your thighs, scratching the sensitive skin. Every inch of you is on fire, fuelled by the simplicity of his tongue lapping at your cunt.

He slurs against you, suckling at your sensitive nub, your thighs quivering in agony at the sheer pleasure.

“Give it to me, baby,” he would coo desperately against your mound, wet heat radiating off onto him. You would simply tighten your grip around his cheeks and he knew he had you, your pussy clenching around nothing as you gushed your sweetness, his tongue eager to collect everything you give him.

“That’s my girl,” he would say, gently stroking your stomach affectionately.

5K notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 17 hours

Text

toji has a secret tattoo, in a place hidden from the rest of the world. and you wanted to find out what exactly this man was hiding.

"where?" you asked one more time.

"nuh uh, no telling," toji shaking his head once more.

"let me find it then!" you got closer to him as you inspected him. you decided to make a plan, you'd ask him to take off a piece of clothing, if he hesitated, that's the spot.

"take your shirt off," you slowly observed the man.

"if you wanted my clothes off, could've just said so," toji taking off his shirt easily with one arm. "do-"

"your pants," you continued, as the man raised his eyebrows.

"do you want to fuck me or something?" he took off his pants, leaving him with just his boxers in the middle of the living room. "quit staring won'cha, my eyes are up here."

you were lost, no hesitation in any of his movements. his skin was clean, in all the places you'd expect a patch of ink, there was nothing.

"give up?" toji taunted as a smirk slowly came to his lips.

you had an epiphany, his lips. you walked closer to the man, looking pitifully as if you were a kid who got their lollipop stolen. as you got closer, you leaned for a kiss. slowly, your hands reached for his face, landing on his bottom lip. you pulled his bottom lip down finding the tattoo, "kiss me" right on his inner lip. jackpot!

"YES!" you jumped in happiness, releasing his bottom lip. before you do your third jump, you felt large hands grabbing your waist, immobilising you. he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist making you see him eye to eye.

"don't be too excited, now this is a secret between me and you, no one else doll, no one," toji emphasising the last 2 words glaring at your smile.

"ok, kiss me," before toji could respond, you smashed your lips to hip making him shut up, giggling in between kisses.

note: firm believer toji is a man who got a tattoo bcs of a silly dare.

7K notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 17 hours

Text

Cw: Nsfw (consent)

Sleeping with Simon means you might wake up from the tingling yet comfortable feeling coming from your breast, still disoriented from the slumber, letting out a sleepy whimper as the pleasure keeps coursing through your spine like tiny lightnings.

“Morning.” Simon doesn’t even detach his lips from your nipples as he greets you, lapping lazily and rolling the little peaks with his hot tongue.

“Simon…” Your fingers card through his locks to encourage him, he’s always extra horny in the early morning, but the eagerness in his movements is more evident now than the other days, practically burying his face in your breasts. “What got you so worked up today?” you ask him between the moans caused by his antics, his intentional sucking on one of your sensitive buds makes you unable to hold back a whiny cry of bliss.

“Wake up and see you sleeping in my arms, safe and sound…” Simon huffs out a laugh when he gives your nipples a nip, eliciting a yelp on you “You wearing my shirt, leaning against my chest, just the right angle for me to peek in the collar and see those cute nipples of yours…”

“It’s not my fault, you told me to wear one of your shirts last night.” Your pouty facade can’t be kept on for long, not when he finishes taking good care of your now fully hardened nipples, peppering kisses on his way downwards, as if memorizing your body and claiming his territory again with those pink love bites.

“And you’re the one who chose the thinnest and loosest shirt, ain’t you?” Taking your clothed clit between his lips, he smirks as he dart out his tongue, pressing down forcefully at your core and toying it skillfully, so you’ll throw your head back on the pillow and grind your needy pussy against his lips, begging for more with those sugar-coated pleas. “Fuck, all greedy and soaked just from me worshipping your tits, sweetheart? Who’s the eager one now, eh?”

“Just…Just pull down the panties already, god…” Not enough, your mind screams for more, yearns for his lips directly touching your wet folds.

“Bossy.” He chastises you, like you’re an impatient girl craving for candies, but he won’t deny you—or deny himself, from tasting what he’s been wanting since he woke up this morning.

Pulling down your panties and let it pull around your ankles, not even sparing time to take it off properly, he dives back between your thighs, wet tongue gliding through your core, drinking down those nectar as you reach out and push his face down further, the crook of his nose nudging your clit so good that you roll your hips to meet his consistent onslaught.

“Bloody hell, princess…smells so fucking good.” He groans, a low and half-growling one which only worsen your insatiable desires. Even when he lifts his head slightly to speak, his hands immediately move in, sliding two thick and long fingers into your dripping cunt, pumping and pressing the correct spots to make you scream out his name.

“Trying to wake the neighbors up with those cute moans, huh? ‘m not sure if they’ll feel grateful.” Thumbs spreading your pussy lips, he latches onto the now-exposed clit, bringing you another level of joy by sucking that twitching little thing.

“Simon! Si- oh, gonna…” You try to warn him before you get pushed over the edge abruptly, liquid gushing out and smearing his face, only for him to moan contently and make sure not to miss any drop.

“What a sight…” Straightening up and looking at the pool of mess staining the bedsheets, before his gaze travel to you face, eyes still blurry and cheeks tinted with rosy red, panting and quivering after squirting so hard for him, Simon smacks your pussy teasingly, earning another delectable whimper from you. “Squirting all over the sheets, will have to change it later.”

“Can’t go another round, baby…” You look down at him the moment his lips touch your puffy folds once again, big eyes meeting his dark ones with satisfaction and tiredness, but your protest is cut off by a soft smack on right on your trembling clit, and further words are replaced with moans when he ducks down to resume devouring his favorite meal, pressing a reassuring kiss to your pussy and croon. “Won’t stop until you squirt again for me, you can do it, love, and you will do it.”

4K notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 17 hours

Text

nanami recording a dirty talk audio for you because he found out your listening to them and is jealous that your cumming to other boys voice :(

163 notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 17 hours

Note

KONIG + GHOST WITH AN S/O WHO WANTS TO DANCE I THE RAIN

making out with that beautiful brain of yours oh my god

dancing in the rain with: Simon “Ghost” Riley, König + Simon and König

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Simon’s a little skeptical at first, it’s not a light drizzle after all - it’s a good summer rain. but when you’re practically dragging him out the door? his shoulders slump and he sighs, “Hold on, jacket— can’t have you getting sick, love.”

truth be told, Simon’s not much of a dancer. if a song he likes comes on the radio the most he’ll do is tap his foot, maybe bob his head. so when you’re hand in hand and he watches you kick a puddle, dancing around in the rain? he’s willing to embarrass himself for you

and, oh man, is he an awkward dancer. ridiculous, a Lieutenant, built like a tank, trying to dance for his partner. he’s all elbows, hands in tight fists as he tries to match your energy - he’s really trying. he’s tense, it looks like he’s gearing up to hit a punching bag rather than dancing

looks like you have to step in - taking his hands in yours. “You look like you’re trying to fight me, Simon. C’mon, loosen up!”, you laugh, trying to get him to shimmy with you on the pavement, “I am loose.”, he deadpans, footwork a little sloppy. but, as he gets used to the way you’re moving, his jaw goes a little slack, he becomes a little lighter on his feet. there’s one thing he can do, and it makes your cheeks feel a little hot against the cool rain

hand on the small of your back, Simon dips you - weight supported by his palm. and when he brings the hand he’s holding up to his lips, a firm kiss the back of your hand, he cracks a smile, “This loose enough, lovie?”

König:

“You want me to dance, liebling?”, he asks, amused by the request. he glances out the window - spring, budding flowers dotting the trees and leaves sprouting on bushes. he’s taking your hand and leading you out the door, “Ja, why not, Maus.”

he humors you, but he’s a romantic at heart. he can’t deny the feeling in his stomach, butterflies flitting about. his heart squeezing with affection as you spin, droplets of rain rolling down your skin. he’s mesmerized by how you move, it doesn’t matter if you’re actually dancing or just kicking puddles

it’s surprising how the giant man can be so light on his feet - and he’s matching the rhythm you set. he’ll spin you, twirl you around, and he won’t let you fall. he doesn’t say anything, just grins behind his damp hood as you laugh and smile

but when he stops suddenly you look up at him, eyebrows raising as he settles his hands your hips, “König? What’re you— König!”, suddenly you’re in his arms, his hands shifting to hold the backs of your thighs as he picks you up - and easily too. “Was? I’m just dancing, Schatz.”

now he’s laughing softly, accent thick as he shuffles, “Ich liebe dich.”, he coos. you’re both thoroughly soaked by the time you go inside, a small cold hitting you both - but that’s okay, it was worth it

Simon “Ghost” Riley + König:

it’s almost comical to them - their arms crossed as you beg them to come outside with you, “Please— guys, come on! I can’t go out there alone, I’ll look dumb.”. Simon silently cocking his head to the side while König chuckles, “Dumm? Oh, liebling, we wouldn’t want that.”, he hums

König’s always one to give into your whims, the people pleaser in him comes out when you’re around. Simon, ever the straight man of the duo, is making sure the Austrian doesn’t rush you out the door, “Easy there, I’m not taking care of your ass if you get sick.”, he huffs, tossing a jacket at König. walking up to you, Simon drapes a jacket over your shoulders, lightly ruffling your hair, “And you’re too good t’get sick, love.”

once everyone is ready to face the rain though? it’s Simon dragging you out the door, “C’mon, you wanted this.”, voice gravely as walks down to the pavement with you, König following close behind. it’s silly - your 6’3”/~190cm Brit and behemoth 6’10”/~208cm Austrian boyfriends getting drenched while dancing with you. they’d happily make fools out of themselves to see you smile - your laughter echoing down the street

it’s hard taking turns dancing with them, it ends in a pissing contest over who the better dance partner is König, sorry Simon. four hands pulling you every which way - they’re constantly moving, from your hips and waist, over your hands and tracing up your arms

it’s not long before you three rush back inside - the sky clearing up, your shoes damp and their masks soaked. the moods light as everyone dries off, clothes shrugged off in exchange for loungewear

they could definitely be convinced to dance with you again

89 notes · View notes

wallywaffle · 17 hours

Text

Neighbour's Plea (Yandere! Suguru Geto x Older! Reader)

Despite being from different worlds, you develop an odd but cute friendship with the college kid who's always smoking on the balcony. One night, he shows up in your doorway, troubled and seeking your help.

Warnings: obsessive behaviour, noncon kissing, groping, implied dubcon,betrayal, reader is in their early 30s, geto is in his 20s and a bit ooc, MDNI !!

You don’t really remember when your odd friendship with Suguru started.

For about a month after you moved in, you only knew him as the long-haired college student who’s always smoking on the shared balcony. Names were exchanged the day he saw you struggling to carry all your groceries up to your flat and rushed to help. Invites to your place to get a nice home-cooked meal instead of instant noodles happened shortly after. There was an evening where you scolded him like a mother when you saw the state of his apartment and spent the night helping him clean it. Somewhere along the way, facts about your lives were shared: you learnt about how he lost his parents a year after starting his degree in a field they disapproved of, and he found out you’re a recent divorcee trying to piece together a new life after ten years of trying to make it work with someone who never loved you.

You met his best friend, Satoru. You wondered how the two of them even got along; his gentle, introspective demeanor clashing with Satoru's loud and extroverted nature. He met the only friend you had left, your lawyer Hiromi, when he stopped by while you two were finalizing some paperwork. He came to you for advice on studies, work, relationships. You felt it was too weird to discuss the trauma of your divorce with someone nearly a decade younger than you, but it was still nice that he offered. You spent many evenings chatting idly on the balcony about his classes and your job. You cared for him as if he was the brother you never had.

That’s why were you mentally slapping yourself in the face for not recognising the signs earlier.

It was nearly 2 am as you sat next to him on your couch, helping him dab the rainwater off his skin as he poured out his troubles to you. It had been a whole week since you last seen or heard from him, and you wrongfully assumed it was because exams were coming up and he was being diligent in his preparations, not because he was going through a mental break. Even then, usually you would at least pop by his place with a meal for him during exam periods, but you had spent the past two weeks having a blast going on dates with your potential new partner instead of staying home to cook, something that added to the guilt in your conscience. As you listened to him, you also learnt that Satoru was out of the country on some foreign exchange programme, furthering the isolation.

“I just..needed to talk to someone but I was scared of bothering you.” He spoke, barely above a whisper. Your heart sank to see him like this, his usual gentle gaze replaced with dull, sunken eyes, his gorgeous raven hair now messy and unkempt, his broad shoulders slumped forward as if the weight of the world atop them.

“You’re never a bother, dear.” You placed your hands over his on his lap, leaning forward to focus on his pitiful expression. “I’m so glad you trust me enough to come to me. I’m only sorry I didn’t realize you were going through it sooner. Maybe it wouldn’t have gotten to this point if I did.” You searched his despondent eyes for some sign that your words were of some sort of help, but he turned away from your gaze. You placed a hand on his cheek to bring his eyes back to yours.

“Listen.” You spoke. “I’m not a mental health professional or anything, but from now on if you need help don’t ever hesitate to speak to me. I’ll try to help you however I can. You’re the first friend I’ve made since the life change, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I care about you, understand?”

For a moment, his eyes softened. He scanned your face, as if he was searching for something in your expression that told him you were being truthful. Discomfort began to bubble up through you at his gaze, something in his eyes felt…off.

As you opened your mouth to say something to ease the tension, he started kissing you.

You froze unable to think or move, until the sensation of his tongue prodding through your lips brought enough sense back for you to push him off you. You hoped that your shocked expression was enough for him to realise a mistake had been made, but when he reached out to cup your cheek, you had to smack his hand away.

You got off the couch, just to give yourself some distance. Reluctantly, you glanced at him, confusion has replaced the despair in his face as he looked back at you. Your thoughts raced as you tried to find the right words to say. He spoke first.

“I love you.”

Oh you were so fucking stupid. Why wouldn’t a 23-year-old misinterpret your platonic gestures as signs of romantic affection? How were you so desperate for a new connection outside of your previous life that you failed to recognise his growing infatuation with you? You were the older person in this relationship, you had to take responsibility for this gross misunderstanding. You have to talk to him, let him down in a way that doesn’t jeopardize your friendship nor make his mental state even worse.

You heard him call your name. You didn’t notice that he was now standing right in front of you. For the first time you really noticed how much larger and taller he was than you, further highlighting the fact that while you were viewing him as a nice kid, this entire time he was viewing as how a man would. It made you feel slimy.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he started. “You think I’m too young for you. That you’re too old for me. I want you to know that I don’t think that.” He placed a hand in your hair, you flinched. “You’re perfect for me, it's like, you were made for me, and right now, just being with you eases so much.”

You took a step back. “Suguru, I think that you’re just a little confused. You’re not in the best state of mind right now, you said it yourself. It’s not a bad thing to want affection but I-"

“Do you think I’m doing this because I’m depressed?” he cut you off, his tone a lot firmer than the shaky, quiet whispers he was feeding you before. “No, I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you. The kindness you showed me tonight just proves I’m making the right choice.” He stepped forward, you continued to step back. “You're the first person I've ever felt completely comfortable and free with since I came here, that has to mean something. And I know you love me just as much. You’re just scared.” He continued. “That’s why you started running around with that other man, you were avoiding your feelings. But that’s okay. I can help you face them now.”

You felt your back touch the wall. Suguru closed the distance between you, staring down at you, his former sorrowful look replaced with one that made you uneasy. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. He was being absolutely delusional, his behaviour beyond the scope of what you could help him with. Whether it was due to him having an episode or something that was dormant within him this entire time, you weren’t sure, all you knew was that you needed to get out of this situation, now.

“Suguru, I’m sorry. I lied. I don’t think I can help with what you’re going through. It’s too much.” You avoided his stare. “Why don’t we call someone more suited for this? Hiromi knows a great psych at his job. Let’s get some rest and-"

“Do you think that insanity is the only reason I would love you?” he placed his hands at either side of your head, caging you in. “And you are helping me, and you’ll help me even more once you accept that you love me too.” He lowered his head, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. A hand traveled down one of your sides until it reached your ass, squeezing the flesh.

“I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to make you realize that.”

Your blood ran cold. You shoved him as hard as you could to slip out of his grip. Whatever tactfulness you had left was replaced by panic as you scurried to the other side of the room. Suguru slowly followed.

“You need to leave. NOW.” You spoke as firmly as you could. He blinked. You raised your voice. “Did you hear me? I said-”

In an instant, you were lifted off the ground and slung over his shoulder, he headed towards your bedroom.

“Stop! What are you doing?!” You started smacking your fists against his back as hard you could, only to be met with a hard slap on the back of your thighs, shocking you.

He tossed you onto the bed and quickly sat on top of you, straddling your thighs. When you reached up to claw at him, it took nothing for him to pin your arms above your head.

“Be good for me.” He spoke sternly, tightening his hold on your wrists enough for it to hurt. “I want this to feel good for both of us, but for that to happen, you have to cooperate, understand?”

“Please stop this!” you pleaded. “You don’t have to do this, we-”

He grabbed your chin and squeezed as hard he did your wrists. “Try again.”

Tears spilled from your eyes. You looked up at him once more. He was practically unrecognizable, his face strained, his eyes filled with hunger. It was enough to finally shatter the illusion that you were still dealing with a friend that could be reasoned with. You had no other choice.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be good.” you managed to let out between smushed cheeks.

A smile formed on his lips, eerily loving and gentle, almost reminiscent of the person he used to be. Who you thought he was. But when his head dipped down to nip at your neck while you sobbed, and when you felt his cold, calloused hand slip under your shirt to knead at the flesh of your chest, you knew that the thoughtful, gentle friend that you used to share meals with was gone.

He probably never even existed.

95 notes · View notes