#goes and curls up in the corner with a huff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 6 months ago

Text

Sweetener - C.K.

Synopsis. You, hit by your heat cycle and accidentally calling your best friend over in a daze. Choso Kamo, your utterly sweet best friend - and totally not an aIpha, right? Right?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Choso, heats, best-friends-to-lovers, pining, creampíes, bréeding, Choso goes FÉRAL, OMÉGAVERSE AU, overstím, knots, MARATHONS, making him cúm blanks, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, first times (Choso), pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem), proposals, p talking, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

“Open up f’me, beautiful.”

Choso Kamo was approximately four seconds away from kicking down your front door and tearing your apartment down in search of you. Or, at least, he would be if he didn’t know how much you’d huff at him afterwards.

Because it’s not everyday that his precious best friend wakes him up at 3AM with a hazy, six-second call. Mumbling nothing but an adorably sleepy “Cho— come over?”

So what if Choso had instantly thrown on the first t-shirt he saw and broken about seven traffic violations on his motorbike here?

“Come on, come on-” he’s hissing underneath his breath. Weight shuffling nervously between his two feet, he raps on your door once more. Twice. Thrice. “D-don’t make me use that spare key again.”

It was a half-threat - really, it was.

But the louder your answering silence grew, the tighter his fingers curled around his own metallic key. Breathing out a low, “I’m- I’m coming in.” And slowly - ever-so-slowly - he’s cracking your door just an inch open before-

Oh.

It hits Choso like a wave - hard enough to knock him down onto his knees.

“What-” he’s gasping, heaving. Words tumbling out drunkenly in rasping ahs! that he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even register the bright, blossoming pain sweeping his knees with the way his lungs felt like they were scorching - and Choso just couldn’t get enough.

It wasn’t a new candle of yours, and Choso already memorized every one of your perfumes for this to be one. This was just so…carnally sweet.

He was drinking in every drop, every ounce, every waft of that candied air inside your cozy apartment like he couldn’t breathe if it wasn’t that.

And something in the sugary scent makes Choso twitch.

Oh, shit.

Hastily swiping away a translucent mess of drool that’d somehow made its home by the rosy corner of his mouth, he’s straining out once more. For his sanity, more than anything. “Beautiful? Anyone home?”

Still no answer.

Absolutely nothing.

It takes him a few more sloppy seconds swimming his melty mind to even consider stumbling back up onto his two unsteady feet. Blinking away the bleary film over his gaze, Choso slams! your door shut with the back of his foot - cutting off the heady perfume from emanating into the corridor.

Noise complaints from your neighbors be damned - he’ll apologize to them all personally later.

But right now, something about the way that mysterious essence was all his, his, his scratched at such a dangerously primal itch in his brain.

Shit- what was he even thinking?

Choso was here for you and only you.

He’s running a jittery few digits through the sweat-dampened valleys of his hair, tugging in a stinging little pull to try and snap some sense back into him. Clearing the strangled mess in his throat, Choso smacks! his palms against his burning cheeks before calling out once more, “I’ll be coming in–”

Because it’s not as if Choso’s never been in here before - he has. Many, many times, in fact. And during every one of those hangouts you’d made it a point to pout about how he should really “let loose” and treat this home as if it was his own, too.

Honestly, it was hard to feel anything but comfortable after knowing each other for so long - even despite those embarrassing, mushy feelings that he always drowned in around you.

But that was a conversation for another time.

And right now, Choso couldn’t even dream of any “comfort” when every step deeper into the saturated cloud of scent made Choso gulp. Every blink had his eyes watering even more - and his pants- fuck- Choso’s biting down on his rawly worried lower lip, eyes flickering anywhere but where he could feel his achy cock stirring.

Something about this smell was so…hypnotic.

And if he didn’t know any better then he’d have sworn he was practically floating down that familiar pathway to your bedroom. Feet padding down anxiously along the mahogany-covered floors, it was becoming so much harder and harder to breathe in the fragrant air without getting fucking addicted.

Or, Choso swallows, one arm balanced on the wall, the other feeling for his thundering pulse. He probably already was.

But what if you were sick? What if you needed help? Fuck, if he didn’t live every waking moment dancing along to your heartbeat.

That is, when he hears it. That.

Filtering from inside your bedroom…a moan. ”Ch-Choso–”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, forgetting to take your monthly dosage of suppressants - you’d blame it on all the time you’d been spending studying for finals with Choso lately, but you’d never put the fault on your sweet best friend like that.

After all, he was a fellow omega like you at the end of the day. Right?

“Fuck” You’re scrambling to clasp onto a sodden sweatshirt of his on your bed, nose burying into the slightly sunny vanilla scent. You knew it was wrong to think about him this way, you knew it was made even worse considering his second gender. But- but fuck, if he didn’t have your hands slipping and sliding guiltily down towards the slick-lathered spot between your legs. Concentrated puffs of heat stifling from between your lips, “Ch-Choso–”

Honestly, you wanted him so badly you could reach over for your phone and call-

No, no, no, no - your fatigued eyes flick over to the winking clock by your bedside. 3:26AM.

You couldn’t call him over for help now. Choso was so sweet that he’d probably rush over in his pajamas and rack up a fair few tickets on his motorbike.

Which was why you preferred to spend your heats without his help - it had been that way since you’d both presented back in high school.

You’d met Choso after your family had moved to the cutest little suburb in Tokyo, stumbling across the tiny boy-next-door with wide honeypool eyes and a chubby hand that waved shyly your way. Even at the wise old age of eight, you remember thinking how he was so pretty.

Pretty enough that something your health teacher had taught in your last school clanged throughout your mind - this boy was probably an ah…what was the word? Omega.

A quiet, comfortable understanding - and it wasn’t something that the two of you never quite had to talk about too in-depth. At least, outside of sneaking the answers to pop quizzes on secondary genders, and giggling when another classmate sauntered to school with a garish bitemark on their neck.

But, often, you wondered whether you’d ever see Choso with that type of mark.

He never looked at another alpha - not even another omega, or beta, for that matter. You knew that society was stepping towards a more accepting environment for rather “unconventional” pairings - but Choso Kamo seemed well and firmly intent on rejecting every single one of them.

Instead, staying by your side. Unpaired.

Even when he followed you all the way to university - two peas in a pod, so tightly intertwined that most wondered whether you two were mated for life. And he never bothered to disagree - but then again, neither did you.

Even when the years treated him well and he grew so tall, so unfairly attractive. All prettily timid smiles, glinting piercings marrying his ears, and dark, droopy eyes tinged with the slightest kiss of dark eyeliner. Rivalling even the most cocky alphas on your entire campus with his sheer stature and ambience.

Like he was right now.

Towering at the very edge of your unlatched bedroom door.

And only one word registers in your mind - alpha.

Choso - a Choso that was so utterly real and in the flesh - jumps once those startled syllables spill from your mouth.

Fuck, you didn’t even realize you said that out loud.

Not until he’s slamming! one massively spayed-out palm by the side of your doorframe. Shattered pieces of wood crumbling beneath him, you’re unabashedly ogling the flex of his curvaceous biceps. Another hand covering the lower half of his handsome face, Choso rasps. He whines, “You called, m-my omega?”

Oh.

Your entire shivering body bolts upright, like you were being electrified with a thousand voltages of bliss that make your drooling cunt gush. Treacly wafts of pheromones clouding out from you all over again - and the look on Choso’s face is just drunk.

Thick lids so heavy that they were practically falling half-closed, it’s as if his entire body was flushed a prespired red. Lips all ruddied and laminated thinly with spit, his teeth were drawn back into such a wild snarl.

Like he was about to tear something into bits and it might be you.

So…pretty.

It almost hurts you to dart your eyes away in an urgent glance at your suspiciously open call log - did you…really call him in your haze? Fuck.

“Y-you’re-” You swallow a few times - and even then, the words don’t come to you. They can’t. Too stuck on what a delicacy your best friend looked all slumped over by your doorway like he was begging for you. Like he’d crawled all his way to you and would do it all over again. “You’re an alpha, Cho?”

As if you had any doubt now. You could smell the sheer power on him, the thrumming strength threatening to rip through that clingy white undershirt of his. So transparently thin that you could still count every ridge of his washboard abs. And his velvety black boxers hung low-

“Shit-” he gulps. “Yes- fuck! Y-you’re an omega?”

You can only nod. Brows raising when Choso plants another slam right onto your doorframe, indenting all slender lanes of his digits onto it this time. “And is that…mine?”

With a sudden inhalation, you’re snatching behind that sweatshirt of Choso’s that you’d still been holding. Heart thumping - but there was nothing more to say. What could you say?

Turns out, Choso is the first to break. “L-Let me prove it.”

You’re blinking, squeezing your thighs together at the bittersweet throb. You didn’t know what had your honeyed head reeling more - the sudden reveal of Choso’s secondary gender, or his answer. His sheer need. “Prove it?”

Choso’s head hangs low, chestnut bangs covering his greedy gaze, but you could tell that he was looking at you. Really, really looking at you.

Words dripping with something you’d never heard of before. Hoarse. Tight. “Can I…can I come in, beautiful?”

You know you should say no to letting him inside your nest - you know it.

But oh, how it looked like it was taking him every shred of will to keep standing there. To not fucking collapse at the way your gooey pheromones have him spellbound. And he likely would have had it not been for your small, trembling answer, “Yes.”

Choso whimpers - if there was ever a singular moment that would have him crawling back from the afterlife just to re-experience all over again, then it would be this.

When he feels something in the back of his mind switch.

Senses sharpening almost painfully with one step inside your humid bedroom. Two.

Until Choso’s stalking so languidly towards you like a predator cornering his prey, foot by foot. He takes his dreamy time prowling towards you - all the way up until your flushed best friend is looming across the foot of the bed.

There’s something vicious in his eyes. Something that has him salivating, “Can- can I?”

You’re breathing out, “Y-yes.”

Slow, sultry fingers unfurl out to draw a steady line along your ankle - he walks. Fingers blazing up your twitchy thighs, up your drenched excuse of shorts, up, up, up to smear that delirious line of your dribble.

“T-tell me what you want, beautiful.” He pecks an innocent kiss on your forehead, then another to your throat - heaving in your perfumed air. “Anything- I’ll give ya hah- anything.”

His words are low. Hot against your face.

And just about the only thing you can do is slither your unsteady hands down to toy with the hem of your pants. A sight that makes Choso swallow thickly with a rasping grunt.

“I want you to…” you’re trailing off. Fingers dipping down to where you haven’t been able to satisfy for hours now. Your inner omega yelling - screaming that nothing was enough, but he might just be. “-touch me here, Cho.”

SWAT!

Instantly, you’re letting off a saccharine mewl at the way your hand is being oh-so-rudely thwacked away by one of Choso’s own. The slight sting throbbing - but not as much as your poor cunt is when meeting his digits.

Sliding just between your cottony shorts- oh? Choso’s heart stutters. No panties? You really are going to be the death of him. He’s lingering a dewy stroke down your teary slit, honeying his ringed fingers in all your slick juices.

For a second - just a second.

Lightning-fast, Choso’s trailing away with a slew of spatters left behind, and it makes his skin feel ten times hotter. Ten times dirtier in only the best way.

Even more so when those very digits end up slipping easily into Choso’s mouth. One by one. Eyes trained darkly on yours, his long pinkish tongue ends up lazily lathering up and down up and down up and down every beaded gleam of your juices.

“Y-you’re so-” your voice cracks embarrassingly - pathetically, in a way that makes every copious ounce of blood in his body sprint south. “-filthy.”

Pulling off with a waterlogged pop! Choso’s tongue probes between his two long fingers, smacking his lips open and shut with the sticky dredges. And you swear you catch a whiff of smugness in his scent. Yet, he’s blushing, “All for you- only for you, my girl.”

And you can’t even complain - you can’t even tease him about the way that just another mere touch up against your feverish pussypound has Choso gasping. Eyes crinkling with something like delight and sheer awe.

Because he’s crashing his mouth into yours, suckling on your lips like his favorite berry lolly-

“Sh-shit-” Choso’s rich tone cracks into shattering lilts, and you can hear him laugh against your lips. Laugh. Humorless and crazed - pure desperation bleeding out with every swash of his intoxicating vanilla scent. “Beautiful— you taste even sweeter than in my ngh- dreams, y’know that?”

No, you didn’t - you didn’t even know that Choso dreamed of you in the first place.

And you don’t get to pay it any mind because before you know it, the swirling edge of his rounded fingertips tuck just past where your puffy folds were pursing in a ready pucker. Cold metal rings making you gasp.

And Choso’s greedily snuffing out the sound with a sinking bite of his sharpened canines into your wobbly bottom lip. Drinking in every noise from his pretty girl. His pretty girl.

Cratering dimples notching prettily at the ends of his lipbite, he’s practically begging them out with every slow gyration of his fingertips around and around your peaked clit. Tracing over every tiny ridge and sensitive bundle like he was trying to fucking memorize it. “H-has any other- fuck-” Ringing out a thundering growl at the back of his throat that makes your skin coat in tiny goosebumps. “-has any- other- made you feel this good?”

No no no - your inner omega purrs, and you can practically feel yourself groaning lowly at the back of your throat when you pull away.

Trying - failing, when Choso’s chasing your kiss-bitten lips like he was hooked. Slurring after the syrupy strings of spit that smear the traces of your mouth, he’s meshing his lips in a dramatic smooch. Again. And again. And again and again-

“L-look how wet ya are…” And it wasn’t even a command, but you can’t help lolling your head down to blink at the way his pale wrist was glistening with all your laminated juices. Musing, “Gonna make ya feel so fuckin’ good. So good.”

Two deft fingers pinch your clit. Hard.

“Ah! N-no!” Your spine bends into such a pretty curve off the bed, perfectly in position for Choso to slide his massive palm underneath and massage away your tensely knotted back. Your fingers are trekking up the clamoring hike onto his broad deltoids to feel the droolworthy jolt of his back muscles. Babbling belatedly, “N-no other alpha has made me feel s-so…”

So…what?

Hypnotized? Addicted? Gone?

But whatever it was, the sight of you being ruined into a few shattered jumbles of limbs is enough to make Choso’s alpha hum.

Whispering out, “Can I…” And with a steep inhale of the thick surrounding air, he’s gulping. “C-can I-”

Before you’re gracing him with an answer, you’re helping inch those sleep shorts down. Snailing an almost-blasphemous slicked coat that seeps into your skin. He’s twirling his thumb over the remaining excess left behind - not wasting a single drop.

And it takes only one saturated hit from where your pheromones were the most concentrated - only one shy peak down at your drooling cunt - before Choso can feel his mind shattering. Gasping.

The top half of his body all but collapsing on top of yours.

It’s not even on purpose the way he flinches at the thick curve of your thumb floating upwards to tenderly glide away the swab of drool that was flooding Choso’s mouth right now.

His neat brows quirking upwards, heaving chest choppy - you’re so lustily trapped against the bumped-up planes of his pecs. Feeling the rumble of his heated words, “I-I’ve never…”

Sounding so utterly worn-out already, Choso’s planting a few firm pecks at the corner of your chin. He’d meant for it to reach your lips - but he couldn’t. Too in a trance to even think about it. And as if to make up for it, he’s kissing your neck, the valley of your thighs, your tummy. Every and any inch he hasn’t been blessed with reaching for the past few years.

Shuffling all the way until he was practically lips to lips with your sloshing pussy, eyeing down directly at the way your sloppy entrance was welcoming him with another fresh bout of clingy slick. Choso heaves in a long breath.

“Been waitin’ a looong time f’you, y’know? Can I make a mess?” Choso’s whining sweetly, greedy gaze still trained firmly downwards. Tenderly rubbing over your glossed-up folds, “Can I m-make you break?” And those grasping begs of his are barely even audible over the sheer squelching resonating from your slobbery pussy. Your jaw falls slack at how they only make Choso nod. “Y-you’re right- s-so right–”

Talking. And before you know it, the filthiest French kiss is being placed right on your cunt.

He’s not even hesitating, not even easing you into it - because Choso Kamo has waited so long for this. And he was going to have his fill.

“This is what y-you taste like- this good?” Dragging the very pointed tip of his pretty button nose down your plump clit, he’s smushing it in place with a firm kiss at the very edge of your snug hole. “Th-think this cute cunt can take my fuckin’ cock, beautiful?”

So fucking impatient.

You’re tangling one set of fingers into the stray strands of his hair, bucking up to drag a slow glide down the lower half of his pretty face.

And, usually, with an alpha you could be expected to be snapped at with a snarling command. An instruction to just stay put.

But Choso’s only letting his sharp jaw comfy against the silken sheets, head nuzzling drunkenly into your thighs when you’re pushing and pulling him as you please. Leveraging the vice-like grasp on his scalp to drive steady grinds just the way you like it.

Whining, “Need you so bad, baby–”

“Yeah- yeah, use me-” Choso snickers around a teasing bite against the fattened edge of one of your pussy lips. Sucking. “R-reach your pretty high on my face, omega- need you to cum all over me till I-I’m dripping.”

Fuck.

Was this really your nervous, sweet best friend? His words were so dirty, as if he didn’t even realize he was saying them. And they almost make you embarrassed. Shying way just an inch-

“Oh- no. No no no-” His words come buzzing around your clit, and with a final bite of his elongated canines, Choso’s frantic. He’s scrambling. He’s grasping his powerful arms to loop your thighs and dragging you to him like some ragdoll down the protestingly creaky bed. “S’gonna go to waste- can’t- can’t let it.”

And it’s only about then that you’re dredging up the courage to angle your head further downwards - immediately hit with the sinful sight of Choso in heaven between your limp legs.

His hair a disheveled curtain, eyes narrowed and smudged with eyeliner. Damply bleeding down onto the regal apples of his high cheekbones at the way your meady slick was reaching his blushing cheeks. It masks his coral pink lips, his jaw, his fucking chin.

So sopping wet that it’s forming a little puddle down below him that Choso could never even imagine being disgusted by. No, in fact, he was disappointed with himself for not lapping it up even sooner.

Pumpish lips jutting out in a pout, Choso’s pushing away the hair from his eyes sexily. “Wh-why are you runnin’ away- don’t run away, my girl.”

With a slight giggle, you’re veering your scent to tinge with something comforting. And oh, does it do the trick - because Choso’s eyes swoop downwards drunkenly. Almost closed, almost ruined, he’s huffing out a drawled-out mantra of your name, “Lock it.”

“Wh-what?” You’re choking out.

Soft palms massage gently down your legs, wrapping them around the back of his head. “Lock it.”

Oh.

That was a command, and it has your body pulling taut. Every sensory spot all down your skin screaming to obey - yet, this is something you would have done anyway. Ankles tying together, it’s jostling Choso’s hotly open mouth against your pussy so deeply that you wonder whether he doesn’t have to breathe.

Whether he doesn’t even want to.

Because your dear best friend looks so satisfied to die right in the heaven between your legs right now. And he would go such an utterly happy man, too.

Rosy red lips rubbing rawly against your clit, you’re left a puddle of a needy mess when the roughened tastebuds of his tongue swirl in meticulous little circles. Cheeks hollowing as he sucks, your whines can’t even be heard over the most oozy squelches.

“Heheh- she’s talkin’ back ta me-” Choso’s sputtering out peck after peck. In awe. “She’s talking. Th-think she wants ngh- more.”

More.

More, more, more.

Choso’s beginning to think that your dripping pussy’s speaking for himself with the way that’s exactly what he wants right now. Teasing the mushy outer lips of your puckered hole with his fat fingerpads, before bullying in. Inside.

You’re taking him so well - hips careening even further downwards when he’s feeding your greedy cunt with every long inch of his digits. Slow enough that you could count it - just about six, ringed inches all the way to his knuckles.

Shit- it’s so hot inside, as if your pretty pussy was practically melting around him. Molding to his every shape as Choso’s driveling swirling around in rummaging little stripes down your gummy walls. Slow. Slick.

Slender cylindrical intrusions that bump up deftly against your battered g-spots. The chilling stretch of his banded metal rings was too much. Your eager cunt is splattering out a pornographic little gush of your sweet, sweet juices all over again at the way he’s teasingly fondling over that magical spot.

“J-jus’ a little higher, baby–” you’re spewing out. Deprived.

And oh, Choso’s darkened eyes are practically lighting up. He doesn’t pull away from your bruised clit to answer - not even to breathe before vibrating out a keening, “Here?”

So desperate.

Even needier than you.

You’re blinking through large, globular tears that occupy the space behind your lids. Nodding, “A little more- jus- oh!”

And Choso didn’t need to hear it from your lips. Hell, he didn’t even need to hear it from the way your snug channel was all but milking his fingers dry. Clinging on in a soppy kiss when he’s probing into your g-spot harder. Meaner. Because the way your intoxicating scent changes - concentrating ever-so-slightly makes Choso realize that you’re cumming before even you register it.

Slamming headfirst into your high, you’re plowing out a belated cry of “I- fuck- m’cumming, Cho. M’cumming, m’cumming-”

Sparks of white splinter your vision, and your knees find themselves just wrenching free from the lecherous comforts of the bed - but Choso won’t let you escape so easily.

No.

Barely batting an eye, he’s straining his biceps deadlocked around your legs. Pinning you to the bed until you could barely squirm, barely do anything but take his punishing little clashes against your g-spot head-on. Bumping in. Over and over.

Choso suckles on your clit like his favorite little gummy, stretching and nibbling until you see stars with your orgasm.

“Don’t run away-” he’s puffing out into your cunt, the very idea of parting with drizzling pussy making him yelp out a pained grunt. “P-please don’t run away- I promised to make a mess. O-one more f’me, beautiful?”

You’re just molten at his touch. Ravenous and overwhelmingly greedy for you as much as you were for him. Something carnal inside you screaming for more-

“H-hear her?” His eyes are drifting closed at the pulpy little noises your cunt mashes on. Dangling ear piercings twinkling when he’s leering even closer to hear. “Tellin’ me she’s gonna give her- hngh- alpha one more.” Fuck, Choso’s features decorate with the most blazing blush at his own words. How embarrassing. “Wontcha use my mouth all over again? I didn’t get fuuuuck- messy ‘nough last time…”

And as if to prove his point, Choso traces a slow glide of his worked tongue across the sloppily wet coating that drips down his lips. Just for a second.

Your veins bubble sensitively with need at the broken whine sounding from the back of Choso’s throat when you drag him even snugger between your legs. Puffs of leaky pheromones driving the two of you wild, making your hips stutter out a slurring pace up and down his face.

“Th-this pussy is all f’me- isn’t it, my girl? S’all f’me?”

Even sloppier once you battle out a nod.

Your cunt is extra slobbery because of your heat anyways, but Choso’s making such a mess on purpose.

Eyes running away to the back of his head, tongue lolling out even messier. He’s planting such dousing draws of saliva, lathering your sweet spots mercilessly. And his fingers- oh, his fingers were relentless. Shovelling up in solid, wet nudges until you’re able to feel every circular indent of his digits on your g-spot.

Every run of his manicured nails across where you’re sure you were beginning to get bruised. And every-so-often whenever his eyes glaze green with raw greed - with slight, stupid jealousy over his fingers - you’d peek at Choso plunging his digits into his mouth and sucking.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Matching the lecherous sound of your thundering heartbeat, you can feel yourself squeal at the overstimulating touches. Sobbing out the cutest little whines that make Choso chuckle, “Easy– easy there, my girl.” Letting your cunt free with a sodden pwah! only to spit. Once. Twice. A sticky wad of his thick saliva that blusters its way to coat your puffy pussy lips, “You’re cumming again, right? A-all over my face?”

You’re nodding - nodding and nodding so hard, but that wasn’t enough for Choso Kamo.

He wasn’t satisfied until a slow pull of your clit right from between his pearly whites had you bawling out. The backs of your hands dipping upwards to hide your face - which he quickly, and calculatedly spanks away with his free hand. “M’gonna cum soon- ngh- please- Cho- don’ stop.”

Hah, if this was any other time then Choso might’ve laughed.

Might’ve teased you until you were begging for him in that cute voice once more. But maybe it’s the way his alpha was clawing at his chest from the insides to give you whatever you want, maybe it was the way seeing you fall apart on your heat like this all over him had his cock twitching-

Because Choso only smiles - drunk. Dazed. “Cum f’me, p-please. Ruin me, ma’am..”

He was ruined alright.

Absolutely sugar-coated with your overlaying juices - it’s dripping down his bed and disappearing into the now see-through fabric of his undershirt like a badge of honor. A badge to say that he’s made you cum for the second time on his mouth.

That he’s made you squirt.

Splattering out all over his face with every slurping taste - and yet, Choso still couldn’t get enough. Sweeping up the milky droplets, Choso’s boring his heady gaze right into your widened eyes when he’s leering his mouth agape to make you spy the way each splash slides down his throat.

God- you’re seeing white all over again. You’re seeing spots, having you gulp in necessary gasps of the soiled air to once more regain your steady heartpace.

“Ch-Choso-” you’re struggling, voice brittle and gone. Frantically trying to haul - to force - Choso from his favorite home between your cunt, to stop his greedy tongue. “S’enough- can’t cum anymore can’t- ngh-”

“But, beautiful–”

Shit- it would be so easy to get swept up all over again. Because Choso was parched, and he was still far from having his fill.

Words tinting with a slightly commanding tone, you’re making something dark and primal rear its head when you manhandle him upwards with one hand in his locks, and another on his undershirt. So heavy but pliant.

Up, up, up-

“Choso–” you’re mumbling out. And before you know it, Chosos hands had toppled you over into the cushiony mattress, and yours were tracing the edge of his too-tight boxers. Tugging. Needy. “I-I want these- off-”

“Anything.” He’s echoing, like it was all that he could right about now. Dewey brows scrunching up into something of a beg, you’re catching the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Deprived. “Anything f-for you-”

Fuck- in your currently woozy state you’re not sure if Choso removed his pants or if he ripped them off. Stumbling and tripping to let the few scarce tatters droop into the floor in a sullen pile.

With a gulp, your fingers skitter across the planes of his useless undershirt - letting his pretty, bulging muscles peek out at you from underneath when you slide them off of him. Palms smearing in gluttonous little touches across his push pecs, down his rippling abs, down that lusciously dark happy trail and oh-

“S-something the matter, beautiful?” Choso’s heaving in a struggling gulp at the way your gorgeous eyes widen, maw slacking into a soft oh! Head tilting innocently, “M’your hah- best friend, you can tell me a-anythin’.”

“You’re just so…” Comes the whirling answer, your voice slow and alcoholic. He was getting drunk on your words already. “...big.”

Not only was Choso big - he was massive.

The fat, rotund circle of his head ruddied a strawberry pink, gradiating all the way down his shaft to meet blend into his creamy base. He was so hard that it looked painful, visibly throb! throb! throbbing, bumpy lightning bolts of his veins hammering up at you cheekily. He was so pretty - thick enough that you’re feeling your cunt clench already. Even the burn of your stare has Choso’s reddish divot weeping out a few ropey spurts of pre. Making you dizzy with the incredible size and that musky vanilla scent of his.

And was that-

Oh. Fuck.

It was.

Through the honeyed slew of precum pooling at Choso’s thick tip, you’re gasping at the slight wink of something metallic.

Without thinking - without even breathing - you’re drifting your hand down to thumb those syrupy globules thin. Discovering the absolute treasure chest that was a studded Prince Albert’s piercing right near the weepy edge of Choso’s shaft.

“I got if for- you- Gotta a-another one, y’know-” His gentle rasp jolts you out of your sinful reverie, engulfing hands guiding your own to wrap around his flushed tip and peek under. Right on the slippery sliver of his slit, “A ngh- matching one. Th-thought you might like it…”

Oh- two.

And, embarrassingly, you can feel the way your scent turns headier. Hypnotizing. Enough so that Choso can’t help the way he’s hanging by a bare thread, head falling into the crook of your neck to breathe in. “Y-you act so innocent but…”

“But m’only l-like this for you.” He’s tucking your tender earlobe between his teeth. “P-promise. I haven’t even…”

Ah, a virgin.

Sweet and absolutely gifted.

And something about it was so cute the way Choso was acting exactly like it. Every wordless toy of your fingers up and down his sensitive glans, making him snarl a lipbite. Girthy length fucking up in shuddering slams into the cushiony tunnel of your palm. Weightily muscled abs flexing with heat when you’re running a thumb under his head to press down on that silver piercing.

“S-so tiny- heh- your pretty hands are so tiny takin’ my cock, beautiful.” he’s giggling - giggling. Perspiration-simmered forehead knocking into yours, Choso’s letting his tired head loll there and bore into your eyes. “You needa ngh- fuck! Needa slow down, my girl, m’already so close jus’ from making out with yer sweet c-cunt out.” Already close. Just from eating you out. “Else m’n-not gonna be able to control it-”

“I can handle it–” you’re pouting stubbornly. Soft digits clenching even tighter around his cock, and shit, Choso lets his head fall into the junction between your shoulder and your neck.

Finding himself growing more needy. More feral. Tight, hot curdling in his stomach building up and up.

“M’serious.” His lilting voice breaks, teeth skimming over the pulpy flesh of your sweetened pheromone glands. Nibbling. His incredibly shaky fingers wrap around your shoulders, “Please- ngh- please m’gonna break ya.”

And it’s like you wanted him to.

Dick twitching at those filthy fingers of yours - the way they only pump him faster. And faster. Tighter around the hefty base, more teasing up the slippery slope of his tip - like you were trying to milk out something delicious.

And you can already feel the way your mouth lathers with a fresh coating of saliva, face inching closer and closer to the bawling peak of his swollen cock. Wanting oh-so-badly to taste the silver of his Prince Albert’s.

“But I want you to, Cho.”

SMACK!

You’re left stupidly stunned when Choso’s behemoth palm coils like a tight shackle around your tender throat. Pulling you away from his achy cock in a flash, you’re being thrown around like his own personal ragdoll.

And Choso snickers at the way you’re bouncing cutely on the plush mattress, legs drooping wider and wider agape with every sleazy second he really can’t help but leer over you. Wrangling those boneless legs of yours over his shoulder with a sharp click of his tongue.

“I-I already told you, beautiful–” he’s bending down, down down to nose along your sweat-dotted cheeks, your skin stark hot against the icy chain of his silver necklace. Chest grumbling with a slight purr. “M’gonna make such a mess of you- can I?”

And that drunken look in Choso’s eyes made him look like he would absolutely shatter if you let your lips shape into a teasing no right about now. Like those warm, salted tears spattering from the corners of his half-lidded eyes and right onto your cheeks would only hasten.

“Can I- please, my girl- jus’ wanna-” His lips wobble adorably when his sobbing cock glides a slow line between the mushy lips of your pussy. A graze for a graze of his mouth down your own. “-wanna make you mine.”

And just the tip - just a single fat inch shoved into your gummy hole is all it takes for Choso to whimper.

You’re brushing over his precious cheek, “Ch-Cho, are you okay?”

And Choso can’t answer - hell, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Because that gushing little clench of your clingy walls all around his sodden wet tip absolutely ruins him. Delicate rivulets of slobber streaming down the smiling edges of his tongue, he’s puffing out an open-mouthed, “No- fuck- d-do I look okay?”

He didn’t.

He seemed like he was burning up - fucked-out already, practically. Pecs rippling with a bolting flex, muscled body shirking with violent shivers when with a low keen of your name - Choso’s cumming.

“No-” he’s crying out, head flailing backwards. Just from putting it inside for the first time. “No no no no- m’not s’pposed to- yet-”

But he was. Hips recklessly meandering again and again into yours - slight, tugging grinds of just his thickened tip like Choso was afraid of sinking into your heavenly pussy anymore. Like he knew it would break him even more.

Have him flooding out voluminous ribbons of thick seed, splattering against your spongy channel, and smearing around in dripping vertical patterns with every one of his animalistic ruts.

“Give it t’me–” you’re locking your ankles even tighter. Prattling out such filthy nonsense that you’re sure you’d get embarrassed about had you not been in your heat. “I-I need your cum, baby- wan’ it allll inside me-”

“Ngh-” Choso’s letting off a broken sound at the back of his throat, squeezing your own with that one hand of his happily making its home there. Blocking off your airway, your heady pheromones only struggle to waft out even more. Saturating. “D-don’t talk like that- n-not outta ya pussy, beautiful.”

“But I w-ngh! want it-”

He gulps, “A-are you sure?” Because this is his best friend - this is the one person he’d never even dreamt of having because that was too dangerous. Too fanciful. The one person he’d written about in every diary, and gotten teased for it by his family just the same. Perfect.

Yet, you’re so stubborn when you’re in heat. “Mhm– wan’ you to…breed me.”

And he loved it.

Couldn’t get enough of it - or you.

Choso’s scrambling up one of his jostling hands to latch your hips into a perfect almost-semicircle. Lower lip worried underneath his canines when he’s wiping his fat thumb over the dewdrops of seed treacling from your soppy slit.

That digit finds its way rummaging between your lips, “Lock it.”

This time, you don’t need it said twice - you don’t even need it to be a command.

Because Choso’s reigning up his own hand to pin both your ankles behind his head, and you think you’ll forever remember just how hot he looked this way. Biceps bulging with the strain, simmering with a slick sheen of perspiration, and his hips-

Oh, it’s like any and every slip of restraint in Choso’s hulking body snapped.

Because with a loud, saturated squelch! you’re being filled up to what it feels like your lungs with every solid inch of his engorged girth. Inflating your tender insides, buttering your poor cervix with a thick stream of pre when he’s kissing it with a wet thwack!

“Oh- oh.” Choso’s head pushes into the crook of your neck, into your pillow until you were sure that it was soaked with tears of absolute bliss. “Th-this feels nothing l-like my ngh- hand. S’so much more heavenly-”

Yet, you weren’t in the right state of mind to be paying attention to the utter filth that was spilling from your innocent best friend’s mouth. Breath choking up in a lead ball in your throat, you whisper, “Ch-Cho…s’that your knot?”

Your slicked-up folds puckering up in a wet snog against the overinflated ring ballooning around his thick base. The sheer thumping circumference of it makes you squeeze-

“Y-yes–” he’s humming out. The sodden base of his cock thwack! thwack! thwacking your bruising entrance when he’s rutting in and out. Sloppy. Slow. Still trying not to see stars. “God- s’even softer than I ngh- imagined.”

And soft you were.

This is what your sweet pussy felt like? This good? This should be fucking illegal, he was babbling out - but wouldn’t realize until much, much later.

Being spearheaded open with every unapologetic rifle to fill you up, the leftover dredges of Choso’s seed trickle a slippery pathway leading him to ambush your g-spot head on. Stubbing his cool metal piercing into your sweetened bullseyes so hard, you swear you could feel the indenting divot of that sinful Prince Albert’s.

“There?” Mesmerized, his eyes grow wide. “R-right there?”

And he’s hot - so feverish.

Glissading body on top of yours burning up with radiating heat, fracturing our rationality just as much as the sweet vanilla scent of his pheromones were. That tiny heart friendship charm on his necklace hitting your collarbones in a dirty staccato.

You can feel yourself start to drool with how stupid Choso’s cock was fucking you, curling a few neat raking lines down his statuesquely muscled back. It makes him just arch his cock even deeper to jostle your snug insides riotously.

“I-imagined about me a lot?” Ah, you’re finding it in yourself to smirk.

Something that Choso’s jackhammering out in quick, increasingly sloppy juts of his hips. Slathering the entirety of his cock with your slicked juices.

“O-of course.” He’s shifting his eyes gingerly away from yours with a boyish blush. But now that Choso had started talking, he couldn’t stop. “Always wan’ed to f-fuck you through a rut or h-heat like this- to-” Couldn’t keep from hiking up a flattened foot to angle his pierced cockhead into every untouched inch inside you. The special upright curve of his shaft driving you mad. “-to absolutely ruin you and-” The hand at your legs hover right over where he was plummeting your insides with gluey kisses - your womb. “-and make you mine. Ours.”

Ours.

God, just the mere act of confessing those embarrassing little words had Choso’s hulking body practically melting into yours.

It’s like his abs were made of adhesive, massaging up and down your front. Drowning you into the plethora of wrecked sheets and him when he’s collapsing on top of you - but still going. Still placing pound after pound.

“I-I want that too-” And you think you hear Choso sharply gasp, but you can’t confirm over your popping ears. “Always wanted it- ah- wanted you to fuck a baby into me, Cho.”

SLAM!

The slowly-splintering bedframe creaks when one particularly harsh rut has the headboard slamming into the wall behind.

And that’s all he needed to hear.

A baby - he wants a baby. He needs one - and this wasn’t just his alpha talking - and he was going to get it.

All that Choso thinks he ever could hear all through his honeyed mind for the rest of his life. Replaying it over and over in his mind like his favorite catchy tune.

You don’t miss the way that he looks so in love above you, gaze practically heart-eyed and gone. Choso’s raw, swollen lips meteor shower your face with peck after peck - just in time with the collisions of his rounded tip into your sweet spots.

“Boy or girl?”

“H-huh?” you’re questioning, barely-lucidly.

“Boy or girl.”

And after those senseless little answers are falling from your lips, Choso’s brushing a hand over your lower tummy. Pushing. Hard. Until his twitchy knot was covered in buttery residues of cum, “Ah- a-always wan’ed a daughter with ya first. With your c-cute smile and ngh- eyes.”

Huffing out an embarrassed, “Choso.”

And he’s only scooping back in the leaky sediments of seed that he’s responsible for making a mess of. Turning a slow thumb right over your tight ring of muscle, “Gonna have my- ngh- style of course, heh- you’d be the best momma. D-don’t care if you’re my best friend, m’gonna breed ya until you’re overspilling, beautiful.”

You needed it so badly. Your heat turning up a notch until it felt like you were boiling from the inside out, candied scent drifting more.

He’s giggling out, dark lashes batting without his permission. “M’gonna- ngh- take care of you-”. The hand caressing your elastic entrance flies upwards to get cleaned off by his own tongue - before prying your jaw sagging open to spit. “Goood fuckin’ care. N’ hopefully you’ll end up p-pregnant…hopefully.”

He’s encircling the dip in your waist and dragging you forwards to smack against his washboard abs. Unable to squirm. Unable to run away. “Gonna be the p-prettiest momma- the ngh- most beautiful.” Other hand restricting your throat so cozily that your vision tinges with black, “Gonna be mine.”

And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words in mind.

The way your sopping walls were milking him for all he’s worth - so greedily - shoving Choso to tip over the edge, too.

Choso’s letting his body sexily cave into yours, not breaking even a mere inch apart when he’s got you trapped and overfilled with every dollop of his cum icing your insides. And right now you could already feel the way your scents were mixing, the way Choso turns slightly cross-eyed-

Before sharply turning to your glands and biting.

Hard.

His predatory canines break through your epidermis layer like butter, a crimson lipstain gushing from the wound and staining his lips a handsome rouge.

And - only belatedly, once your omega’s snapping at you with her teeth bared - do you realize that it’s your turn to do the same. As if you would want any other.

Locking your jaw to dig into his pale, dampish throat, Choso sucks in his cheek to muffle the slightest whine when you’re wringing him through every speck of bliss he could possibly ever feel in a lifetime. Furious cock stuttering out a few more lazy wisps of cum at the mingling feeling of finally being yours.

“Not ‘nough-” He’s eyeing the leftover ring of cum painting his knot, “Can I fill ya up m-more? Please? Please- my girl.”

You’re pulling away with a woozy nod to rub your thumb over the dug indents of your teeth, gently soothing slow circles over the feral sting.

Filling you up over and over with each pound, he’s fucking you into the mattress like he hates you. And he’s fucking you like every shuddering ram had a creamy ounce of cum pouring into your gummy walls. Glueing in wet splats against your g-spot, your cervix, like a second sloppy skin.

Generous helpings of cum drifting into almost blanks-

“Heh- haaaah- y’know tha’s makin’ me still c-cum, beautiful.” Choso’s leaving sodden kisses on your own mark, your lips. “M’sorry m’sorry I- I can’t stop- I just- can’t.”

And it’s sheer animal nature in you that’s screaming at you that you don’t want him to stop until you’re sure it takes. That’s bending down a hand as much as deftly as possible to wrap around Choso’s slightly softening cock - that only tuts in impatience.

“Wh-when I said inside-” You’re pumping his soaked base as much as possible, feeling the stiffening twitch at his tip buried inside you. “-I mean- inside-”

It’s like you’re being split-apart - like you couldn’t be any fuller if you tried.

And, yet, only the very curvaceous top of Choso’s inflated knot had bullied its way in-between your lewdly stretched hole. Gaping a pathway so incredibly girthy that it makes you scrunch your brows, head tumbling backwards.

“Oh- oh, my greedy, greedy girl.” But Choso doesn’t look one bit admonishing - not one bit. Slithering a hand down to your cunt, he’s steamrolling two thick pads of his fingers. Rubbing up against your squeamish walls, scissoring your tight entrance so amply open. “I can put it…inside. R-really, really inside?”

Oh, Choso doesn’t know what blessings he’s received in his past lives. But absolutely nothing could have prepared him for how swelteringly hot and cushy you were around his fat knot.

Swallowing up the bulging circlet, plugging up your seeping slit safely so that you’re not spilling a single glutinous splotch of his cum. So that it will take. It’s such a tight fit. Such a burning stretch. You felt so full you could burst with every throb of his swollen knot probing your walls.

Ah, you look so pretty this way.

And Choso’s half-wishing he had a camera to capture this moment. With his lips pressing a few syrupy kisses along every inch of skin he could reach. Somewhere near your tummy - so full and slightly inflated with the copious amounts of cum that were dumped inside you.

He’s murmuring something drunken - something you probably weren’t even supposed to hear. But at the curious tilt of your head, your best friend chews over his lips nervously.

And a giddy smile plasters across your face at the saccharine love in your best friend’s eyes - the way he was probably mulling over asking you out on a date. There was no turning back at this point, and your omega purred in agreement as you got ready to say yes. For him to say a sweetened-

“Marry me.”

A/N. You show up at the next Itadori family dinner with a ring and Sukuna has an actual heart attack.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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kateschi · 3 months ago

Text

second helpings

synopsis: he owns the kitchen—until you quietly claim a corner of it, and he is enjoying it more than he lets on.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: been gone a while. had ran out of ideas but here we go

you don’t cook often.

not because you can’t, but because he always beats you to it.

katsuki treats his kitchen like a battlefield—controlled, efficient, and his.

he moves like he’s been doing it his whole life, sleeves pushed up, jaw set in focus, the faint smell of spices clinging to his shirt even after he’s done.

it’s something he enjoys, something he’s good at, and he rarely lets you lift a finger when it comes to meals.

so when you tell him, “i made something for you,” you expect a scoff, a teasing remark, maybe even a lecture about how he should be the one cooking for you.

what you don’t expect is for him to hesitate.

it’s barely noticeable, but you catch it—the slight pause, the flicker in his expression before his arms cross over his chest.

“you what?”

you huff, nudging the bowl toward him, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “i cooked something for you.”

his red eyes flick down, scanning the dish like he’s assessing its structural integrity.

it’s nothing fancy—just something simple you put together while he was out. but his fingers twitch slightly, like he’s holding himself back from reaching for it immediately.

“…what’s the occasion?”

you blink at him. “nothing. just wanted to.”

his brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand the concept of someone cooking for him just because they felt like it.

but after a moment, he exhales through his nose, jaw shifting as he grabs the chopsticks.

“you didn’t have to, y’know.”

you smile, resting your chin on your hand. “I know.”

he doesn’t say anything else before taking a bite.

the first one is quick—just a taste.

then the second comes almost immediately after, slower this time, more thoughtful. his chewing slows just a fraction—contemplative. his brows furrow, but not in a bad way.

he’s thinking.

then, without a word, he goes for a third bite.

you watch him, amusement curling at your lips. “well?”

he chews, swallows, and sets his chopsticks down with a casual motion.

“…it’s good.”

you stare.

then squint.

“just good?”

his ears tint the faintest shade of pink, and he scowls, looking at anything but you. “what, you want a damn trophy?”

you snort, shaking your head. “a simple ‘thanks’ would work.”

his mouth presses into a tight line, and for a second, you think he might just grumble his way out of this. but then, just barely above a mutter—

“thanks.”

your grin widens, warmth blooming in your chest as he goes back to eating, and even though he doesn’t say anything else, you don’t miss the way he finishes every last bite.

it happens again.

not immediately, but enough that it starts to become a habit.

one night, you make an extra portion without thinking, setting it aside without a second thought.

another night, you leave something for him when you know he’s coming home late, the dish waiting on the counter like a quiet reassurance that he isn’t alone.

you don’t always expect a reaction, but you always get one—even if it’s just a muttered “’preciate it” or the way his shoulders shift ever so slightly when he sees what you’ve left for him.

and then, one evening, you catch him sneaking extra bites.

you’re pretending not to watch, seated at the kitchen counter with a drink in hand, your body angled just enough to keep him in your peripheral vision.

katsuki eats like he always does—quick but deliberate, each motion efficient, no wasted movements.

his back is straight, his expression unreadable as he makes his way through the plate of curry you set in front of him.

then, the second you turn your head—

a blur of movement. a quiet clink.

your eyes snap back to him.

katsuki freezes, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, a second helping clearly stolen from the pot sitting on the stove.

his jaw tightens as he chews, his expression carefully neutral, but you don’t miss the way his fingers tighten slightly around his chopsticks.

your brows lift. “did you just steal extra?”

a beat of silence.

then, his red eyes flick up to yours, his chewing slowing slightly as he glares, unimpressed. “what?”

your gaze drops to the now slightly emptier pot.

a slow grin spreads across your face.

“you did.”

he scowls, shoving another bite into his mouth like it’ll somehow erase the evidence. “it’s good. so what?”

you rest your chin on your palm, amusement flickering in your eyes. “you could just ask for more, you know.”

he clicks his tongue, gaze flicking to the side, suddenly finding the tiled floor far more interesting. “dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

after that, you start paying more attention.

to the things he likes, the things he doesn’t say outright but that you pick up on anyway.

you learn that he prefers meals fresh off the stove, that he eats fast but never wastes a single bite. that he loves spice—but sometimes, just sometimes, it even gets to him.

you catch the way he drinks more water when it does, the slight furrow of his brows when the heat creeps up on him.

“you good?” you ask once, watching as he takes another gulp of water.

he clicks his tongue, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. “’course I’m good.”

you just shake your head, amused.

even when he’s exhausted, dragging himself through the door after a long shift, he still eats whatever you make. no complaints, no hesitations.

just a quiet moment where his shoulders loosen and he sits down without a word.

and no matter how much he huffs and grumbles, no matter how much he acts like it’s nothing—

he never says no to your cooking.

one night, he comes home later than usual.

you’re already half-asleep on the couch, curled under a blanket, when you hear the door open.

heavy boots thud against the floor, the familiar sound of him kicking them off near the entrance. there’s a rustle of fabric as he shrugs off his hero jacket, the soft clink of his gear being set aside.

then—

a pause.

you blink groggily, rubbing your eyes as you push yourself upright. “katsuki?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just stands there, his gaze fixed on the covered dish waiting on the counter.

his shoulders loosen slightly, the exhaustion still clinging to him, but there’s something softer in the way he moves now, like the sight of the meal has pulled some of the weight off his shoulders.

“…you made somethin’?”

you yawn, stretching your arms above your head. “yeah. thought you might be hungry.”

he doesn’t say anything at first. just strides toward you, stopping in front of the couch, and before you can react—warm lips press against the top of your head.

it’s quick, fleeting, but it lingers in the way his breath ruffles your hair right after.

his voice is quieter this time. “thanks.”

your chest feels light, a soft warmth settling beneath your ribs, but before you can process it, he’s already moving again. he grabs the plate, lifts the lid, and takes in the meal.

then, he makes his way back to you, dropping onto the couch beside you.

his thigh presses against yours, his body radiating warmth, and then an arm drapes over your shoulders, pulling you in.

you blink, a little surprised, but you don’t resist, sinking into him as he picks up his spoon.

he eats in steady bites, quiet, comfortable. then, without a word, he scoops up another bite and holds the spoon out to you.

you hesitate for half a second. “you don’t have to—”

“just eat.”

you huff, but open your mouth anyway, letting him feed you.

the flavors settle on your tongue, familiar and warm, but you barely notice because katsuki’s watching you now, eyes flicking over your face like he’s waiting for your reaction.

you chew, swallow, then smile a little. “tastes good.”

his mouth twitches, and he clicks his tongue, looking away. “’course it does. you made it.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x female reader #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader

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iixch · 4 months ago

Text

☆ iixch production

Simon and the great cockblock

synopsis: Titan (simon’s great dane and everyone’s favorite canine) is pushing boundaries, and there is only so much Simon can allow. But when Titan becomes an official cockblock, his owner has had enough.

warning: curse & smutty

more Titan shenanigans: pt.1 - pt.3

He wanted it to be special, it was your second year anniversary of being with you and he needed it to go just the way he knew you would love it. He made all the necessary reservations, arrangements and plans so when they day came everything would go as planned.

and everything did in fact, go as planned,

almost.

You had just made it back to his home from your

dinner at the restaurant. You both dined wonderfully, and wined just enough so that you were both loose and relaxed than before.

Coming in he closed the door and was instantly on you, having you cornered between himself and the front door.

“Can’t believe you wore this dress just for me,” He says with a dark grin as his hands go to your waist. Pulling himself closer against you, and in turn your back on the door as he goes to press his lips against your neck. “Such pretty wrapping paper for the gift underneath,” He murmurs between kisses.

Your hands wrap around his shoulders, baring your neck to a side, inviting his affections. “Mm, I know I hit the nail on the head with this years gift,” You say with a chuckle.

“Every year with you is a gift, sweet girl.” He says pulling back from the skin of your neck to your eyes, his right hand slithering up your side to then hold your jaw. “Can I kiss you, love?”

You smile and chuckle to his chivalry. “You better kiss me,” You tease as you pull yourself tighter against him, your dress and his dress shirt the only material between you two as he leans down kissing your lips.

Every thought in his mind is a thought of you. Every desire coursing through his body is desire for you. Every breath he breathes, is in need of you.

So of course he’s oblivious to the fact he forgot to put Titan in his cage. But he’s reminded when as you’ve just opened your mouth enough for him to delve deep-

Bark!

Followed by Simon grunting as Titan pushes him behind the back of the legs.

“The fuck-” Simon pulls away from you and immediately scowls at the appearance of the canine. “I forgot to put the big shit in his cage.” He huffs.

“Awww, hi Titan,” you say going and bending down to pet the big loving dog. “You missed me?” Titan of course sits politely so you can pet him, tail wagging and eyes wide.

Simon glares at Titan as you slip away from his hold to pet the damn dog.

“I’m going to put him in his cage,” Simon says grabbing Titan by the collar to guide him.

“No, don’t do that. He’s a good boy, just let him be. You and me can just close the door to the room.” You tell him as you give Titan a kiss on the head before standing up. “Be nice to him.”

Simon rolls his eyes, before pulling your hand and guiding you through the house to his bedroom. Muttering annoyed by the canines presence, as Titan follows you two. When you both enter the room and Titan tries to follow, you gingerly close the door before he can enter.

Simon, trying to push the interruption behind him, sits down on the edge of his bed, before calling you over, “Love, get over here.”

With a smirk and a smile you walk over before sitting yourself down on his lap. “You should just focus on me, ignore the distractions,” You tease as your hands behind unbuttoning his shirt.

Simon huffs at the remark, his hands sat on your thighs as they gently knead and glide deeper under your dress. His lips curling into a smirk as he watches your breathes become heavier, your eyes fluttering and grip just a tad tighter.

“You should focus on cumming when and only when I have my cock in that needy pussy.” He whispers harshly in your ear, as his hands meet the lacy material of your panties, and traces your outline with a tantalizing finger. Your hips shifting against the spine shivering touch. His finger slipping past the lace edge and he groans when he’s met with your wet squishy entrance. “Ain’t no better way to celebrate than fucking you good, huh”

You were going to respond but you have to close your mouth to avoid moaning so deprivingly when he pushes through his thick middle finger and curling it up inside you, his thumb you your clit.

“Ha- you call this..fucking?” You push him on as you feel your hips twitch under his touch.

He pushes another finger, the stretch burning so good, a soft gasp leaving your lips. His other hand goes to the zipper of your dress, and in one harsh swift movement he unzips it completely, the material falling down and collecting at you hips.

BARK BARK BARK

The sound of scratches to the bedroom door and repeated barking interrupts the moment.

Again.

This time Simon in physically irritated, and you wouldn’t had been bothered to care until you feel Simon remove himself- leaving you feel empty and needy.

“Si, come back,” You huff and pout when he softly turn to leave you on the bed, but standing up himself.

“Let me put that damn mutt in his cage so that I can properly take care of you, love,” He says as he walks over to the door. Before he can walk outside, Titan rushes in.

Immediately going to the bed, where you’re sat in the middle. Despite your need you have to laugh and the dynamic between the two boys.

“Your such a big clingy baby,” You say watching as the Great Dane comes up to you in the bed, snuggling into you and resting his head on your thigh. Your hand goes to his head and pets him.

“Y/n i’m trying to get him out of the room.” His voice agitated. He would had been more patient with the situation if he didn’t have a painful hard on strained under his clothes.

“He doesn’t wanna.”

“To hell with what he wants, I want you.”

You laugh, “Ok, ok,” you hop out the bed, becoming Titan. “Come on boy.”

And as if an invisible leash connected him to you, he obediently follows you to the room. Tail stuck high as he passes Simon. To which Simon sneers, “Cockblock.”

Titan had allowed you to cage him, with a handful of treats, and a good amount of head pats. Letting you and Simon finally indulge in each other without the worry or distraction of Titan in the way.

Simon swears Titan plans and coordinates his interruptions and disruptions, little does he know how right he is.

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screampied · 1 year ago

Text

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ RIDE DA D!CK LIKE A CARNIVAL ! ’﹒⺡

geto, choso, gojo, toji, nanami.

જ warnings. fem! reader, riding, cowgirl / reverse, praise, degredation, shotgunning, (toji) overstim, impact play, size kink, unprotected, breeding, cőckwarming, toy usage, nípple play, mdni.

𖢺 CHOSO KAMO.

“princess, wait,” choso huffs out. he leans back, still gradually catching his breath whilst you straddled him. he swallowed thickly, dark irises staring right into yours. his gaze lingers down your body, and he lets off a soft pout at the feeling of being so buried deep into you. “i- i can go again, want you to ride me,” and then he pauses, running a hand through his hair. “oh. i mean—please. if you still have energy.”

“okay baby,” you hum, and your voice was so smooth. the way you called him your baby, it had him so weak. choso stared intently as you playfully give him a soft shove on his back. “just lie back ‘n let me ride you, yeah?”

choso’s heavily panting, he goes mute for a split second and it’s if as words was practically nonexistent for him. with a raring nod, he brings two big hands towards your hips.

“good boy,” you murmur, pressed right up against his ear. you were merely teasing. although, you felt his dick twitch eagerly inside you. choso’s fingers softly stroke against your waist, and he moans once you start to move your hips forward. he’s still so sensitive from before, just barely over the intense mess he made — and now, you were about to make an even bigger one.

“oh f-fuckkk,” he drags out. it was awfully cute, choso’s pitchy deep voice turning out to be far more whiney than he intended. you were gripping him tightly, hugging him with your walls before not even seconds go by and he throws his head back. “yeah, yeahhh. ride me like that, fuck me, fuck me good, princess. please.”

he leans back before groaning at the way your walls grip around him, hugging him so tightly. choso can’t keep his hands off of you, he runs the tips of his fingers against the edges of your waist before pouting. “harder, f-faster.”

you’d giggle, leaning in to kiss his nose. “are you rushing me, baby?”

“n-nooo,” he breathes, and he feels you gradually grinding your hips against him. you stare at choso’s face—beads of sweat race down the sides of his forehead, and he whimpers. “your hips, ‘s killing me. so good,” and he’s just rambling to you by this point. it was adorable, the way his jaw would clench or tighten. the angle you had against him made his mind spiral. his cock reached deep, hitting all the right spots to even elicit a sweet moan or two from you as well.

choso’s panting, you playfully run a finger down his bare chest and he grunts. you had an compelling rhythm, making him only want you more. he lets off a sweet whine once you lean right up to his ear, whispering a sweet, “don’t be shy, baby. you can hold my hips.”

“fuck y-your voice ‘s gonna make me cum,” he babbles, bringing his rough hands towards your waist once more. he was so cute, far sensitive from his recent release. choso was gentle with his touch but his fingers were no stranger towards your body, roaming all over your hips sensually.

the sounds your pussy made in retaliation, squelch after squelch — it rang in his ears. it drove him dizzy, his mind was in for a loop.

choso’s eyes sexily roll back, and a tiny smile presses against his lips. you watch as he removes one hand from your waist, reaching above him to hold onto the headboard. his biceps, they curled and flexed and it made you stare a bit too long.

“how’s it feel? is it good?” you’d hum, leaning in to sneak a kiss near the corner of his mouth. his lips twitch, and it's so cute.

“you always make me feel good, princess,” he huffs out, one arm wrapping around you. your rhythm . . it was purely hypnotizing, you knew just how to take him.

so much of his inches burying into you, you made sure not to bounce your hips but grind. adding just a bit of pressure—he loves when you start to get a bit sloppy. the way he’s leaning back, it was unintentionally attractive.

it doesn’t take long before choso was approaching another heavily anticipated orgasm. he felt it, and he squeezed your hips with a cute needy look in his eyes. “i-i’m gonna make a mess again,” and his breathing cutely picks up. choso pulls you closer towards him. you don’t expect for him to bring his mouth towards your chest, softly lapping his tongue against your perky nipples. “gonna, ‘m gonna cum.”

“m-make a mess for me, baby,” you moaned, making your hips slow down just a bit so he could stimulate your nipples with his tongue. “it’s okay.”

your words were so smooth, he got off to simply your tone. it was building up and up—his thigh continued to bounce. and for yet a second time, he whimpers out once he feels himself pouring inside of you. a thick stringy load, ropes and ropes of his cum filling inside of your sweet cunt.

“f-fuck,” he’d whine, and it was as if everytime choso sweared, it made him ten times cuter. you giggle, panting yourself before kissing near his nose. choso’s eyes—he could barely keep them open. “ride me,” he pauses between his words, and you watch as he leans back, bringing a hand towards between your legs to feel his mess he created inside you. “ride me again, and a-again, and again….please.”

𖢺 NANAMI KENTO.

with nanami, he prefers for you to ride him whenever — especially whenever he gets home from work. a long tiring day at work, he loves coming home to you in hopes that you’d ride all of his pent up stress away. and you certainly do, happily.

“i missed my wife,” he’d grumble, and he was so knackered. you could hear it in his voice, whenever nanami was a bit drowsy his tone would deepen a bit. he was so tender with his touch against your hips. softly tracing against your skin to make you nearly lose your mind. “and i really missed these hips.”

you sat still with nanami’s dick being stuffed deep inside of your pussy. just a single move and he’d be even deeper. the thought of that made you salivate. he knew he was big just as much as you did. always the perfect size for you, never otherwise.

“good girl. get niiiice ‘n comfortable for me, okay?” and his words went straight down between your legs, you let off a moan once you buried your face into his neck. his strong scented cologne he had on all day at work wafts against your nose.

“okay…okay,” you’d mutter, feeling his big hands make its way towards your ass. he was always so handsy, allowing his rough hands to meander and roam all over your rear. you shiver a bit, feeling the coldness of his watch band run across your skin. “s-so big, kento.”

“ah. don’t hide that pretty face from me my love,” he’d purr, making you sit upright to face him. once you start to move—he grips your waist with one hand, another cupping your face.

nanami brings you into a loving kiss the moment you start to jerk your hips forward. you moan into his mouth, skimming your tongue against his and he even grunts lowly. a smile pokes near the corner of his lips before you hear him chuckle.

he adored how weak he had you for him, your hips stutter the more he swiftly runs a finger against your waist. once he pulls away, strings of pretty spit departing — he huffs out a sweet, “are you gonna move or do i have to do all the work like usual, sweetheart?”

“s-sorry,” you’d pant, and he was merely teasing. nanami simpers at the cute pout spreading on your lips and you start to adapt to a sweet sweet rhythm. he was so thick, stretching out your walls with such ease. nanami groans, he was still in his work clothes. long black slacks of his were just lazily pulled down and he had a button up shirt. his worn out collar was covered with nothing but a few smeared marks of your lipstick. “f-fuckkk, kento.”

nanami’s breath gets caught in his throat, feeling how wisely you used your hips against him. the lights in the room were dim. a few sweetened candles lit, the perfect romantic scene.

nanami stared at you with such a look of love, a soft smirk purses on his lips before he pulls you closer towards him.

“always know how to make me feel good, my love,” he murmurs against your ear. his voice was a low rasp. nanami’s face started to get a bit flustered once you started to moan directly into his ear. “i know, i knowww,” and he was talking you through everything in that smooth rich voice. it got you ten times wetter than you already were. you didn’t even know if that was possible. “keep looking at me, sweetheart. i wanna get lost in my wife’s pretty eyes.”

your started to whine once his dick reaches a pivotal spot. so deep, you feel him expand anywhere and everywhere like it was nothing. as you stared into his pretty brown eyes, you quickened your pace by a few simple thrusts. nanami returns your gaze, and he’s so in love that he can’t help but smile as you’re completely losing yourself on him.

“kento, k-kento, ‘m gonna cum soon,” you’d start to babble after a while—you felt a bit woozy, leaning into his neck to softly suck against his skin. you nipped near the inner part of his collarbone, and he lets off a low groan. nanami leans back a little, just a little… and once he feels you grind in a back and forth motion he nearly loses it. so slow, the repetitive motion made his jaw tighten. you slip out a whimper once his cock prods against your g-spot, and your hands yank onto the fabric of his shirt.

“the pretty girl’s gonna cum on me, hm?” nanami teases, feeling you spread your legs against him a little bit. he brings a kiss towards your chin before bringing both hands towards your waist again. “look at that face, so cute ‘n needy,” and he can’t help but kiss you again. as you rocked back and forth, rotating your hips in long circles . . . he starts to pant himself. you start to nibble on his tongue and he chuckles, squeezing your waist before you whimpered.

once you came, it was so powerful. a bundle of nerves coursing all through your veins—you were speechless, breaking away from his lips before wrapping your arms around nanami. he found it cute at how you came a bit earlier than usual, but nonetheless he still made sure to praise you. “what a good girl,” he mutters in a husky voice before softly caressing your ass. ��my good girl.”

𖢺 GOJO SATORU.

“pft. girl pleaseee,” gojo scoffs with a snort. he was so sassy, way too sassy for even his own good. he leaned back against the chair as you straddled his lap. “you wanna ride me while i wear my blindfold? easy, knock yourself out.”

“and you can’t touch me either,” you roll your eyes at him. he snickers with an attitude, not used to people matching his cocky energy.

a pout goes on his lips before he mutters, “whatever….fine,” and it’s so cute. he loved touching you whenever you rode him, so you can just imagine how he’d act right now. gojo sits up straight, and he watches as you drag his blindfold that was half on his face—moving it right down to shield his eyes. he can practically feel you glaring at him and he grumbles. “i won’t cheat or try anything, hmph.”

“good satoru.”

“the nerve,” he grouses cutely. “shut up.”

gojo grows quiet the moment you start to align yourself, he was definitely long. long and lengthy, staggering inches that was enough to stretch you out for hours. not even a second goes by and he whines once you make him pin his arms back.

perhaps he was a bit too cocky though, because he desperately wanted to grab onto your waist whilst you rode him. his tip was leaky, dripping profusely with his own pre-cum. his breathing was slow, becoming a bit irregular once you started to gradually sink down on his length.

“aw. for the strongest, he’s got such a cute little pout.” you tease, and he lets off a choked gasp once you start to move. you’d bet money gojo was glaring at you - but his eyes were hidden away, so you’d have no idea.

that made you smile, he lets off a husky groan the moment he feels you create up a slow yet steady pace. whether he wanted to admit it or not, gojo was no match for your hips. your hips, probably the only thing he’d fight against and lose. proudly though, he loved having you on top—despite being a brat about it or not. “heh, baby, if you’re gonna fuck me, go faster would ya? ‘m gonna fall asleep at this r-rate.”

and he literally eats his words the moment you push him back against the cushion. he found you doing things like this to be so hot. your pussy had him in a chokehold, no doubt. your torso was upright and your thighs briefly moved with your movements in sync. this angle, it had his head spinning. he wanted to touch you so bad, to see your face — but he couldn’t, and it made him pout even more.

“mhm. lot better.”

“do you ever shut up?” you snicker, leaning in to kiss near the corn ever of his mouth.

“so r-rude,” he’d moan, and he had to admit he was always quite talkative. especially during intimate times like this. each time you pressed a wet kisses against his mouth, his lips would twitch. he wanted more and more, becoming entirely greedy for more of your sweet touch. he was so shoved deep inside you, you felt him reach everywhere. his dick twitched inside you in more ways than you could count. “lucky i can’t see you right now. bet you got the most s-stupidest look on your face.”

“maybe i should have taped your mouth shut too.” you roll your eyes, swaying your hips in a circular addicting motion. it made gojo moan, his thighs aching for more as you continuously went against him.

“damn, that’s—kinda kinky,” he murmurs in a low tone, huffing out a single breath. “maybe you should have.”

despite gojo putting up a pompous front, trying to act like he’s not about to cum for the umpteenth time—you kiss near his neck to make him let off a moan. “you wanna touch me so bad.”you whisper, licking near his neck to hear his breathing hitch. you’re steady with your hips, and he swallows thickly before feeling himself start to approach that familiar finish. you’re so pressed up against him, your body heat forevermore clashes against his. the moment you jerk forward for about the dozenth time, gojo whines before he ends up shooting inside your cunt.

he’s panting heavily, heaving as he trickles ropes inside of you — you moan yourself as he stays still. your hips pause and he feels the tips of his ears grow a scorching hot. “i can feel ya smiling at me,” he grumbles, his abs flexing the more huffed breaths he took. you smile, kissing underneath his chin for a final time before removing his blindfold. his hair was all messy and ruffled, and gojo’s face grows flustered. “…don’t look at me like that. i’d still top you any day.”

“okay, princess. whatever you say..”

“….”

𖢺 SUGURU GETO.

“go ahead ‘n lie back,” he murmurs in a soft smooth voice. a voice that had you soaking from underneath. your panties were still on, just barely though.

with strings lazily pulled to the side, you were propped up against geto and he has his chin softly resting on your collarbone.

“good girl,” he whispers once your back meets direct contact with his chest. by this point, you were basically cockwarming him. he stood tall and still inside you—geto groans, nipping a kiss near the inner part of your neck before uttering, “you have that toy i bought for you, angel?”

“y-yes,” you immediately reply. your voice was so shaky and soft. just a few touches from geto and you were easily stumbling over your words.

he feels you reach beside him, near the nightstand to grab the pretty pink wand he bought you as a surprise. not even wanting to waste time, you turn the switch on and with a loud buzz — it vibrates a singing tune.

“suguru,” you’d whimper out, trying to move your hips but he holds you steady in place. “can i move please?”

“you may,” he says in a low undertone. he brings a hand over you and grabs onto your wrist. you let off a moan once he holds the toy with you, bringing it between your achey clit. “spread your legs a little bit more for me. good, perfect.”

you gasp, feeling him gently rub the head of the toy against your clit whilst you were starting to grind. geto groans, feeling your left hand dig into his thigh.

“s-suguruuu,” you’d sob out, your lips cutely pursing together. he was very much thick, your thighs quivered and quavered from the sensitive stimulation. “fuck, ‘s good. turn it up a little more p-pretty please.”

he smiles, hearing you use such graceful manners like a good girl — his good girl.

geto goes through with your wish, turning the level up a single notch and you moan. sucking in a sharp breath, this position was so lewd. riding geto in reverse, it was heavily g-spot friendly. you went slow, moving your hips in the same recurrent rotation. it makes him bite his lip, his eyes flickering down towards your ass.

“so good for me,” he whispers against your ear. yet that’s when geto pulls you closer into him, biting softly near your neck. the vibrations had you trembling all in his lap, every nerve throughout your body, you felt its presence introduce itself.

geto snickers, feeling you grab onto his hand, moving the toy up and down against the entrance of your clit. in such a sensual manner too—he starts to whisper such filthy things against your ear while you’re getting off. “hear how wet you are for me, baby? so sloppy. pussy’s just talkin’ back to me. no fuckin’ manners, ‘s kinda cute.”

his words, it was so dirty.

you could barely process anything. you panted, staring right in front where a mirror was stood tall. the lewd reflection of you, you’re laid back against geto’s bare chest, slowly rotating your hips. your legs start to shake more and more from the toy’s vibration. teeth clenching, eyelids lowering, it was purely euphoric..

geto’s knees were raised just a bit to better support himself, and he brings a hand around your waist. his touch, it never failed to make you weak. he filled your pussy up with so many thick inches of his cock, his girth nearly had you drooling.

“easy, girl,” he whispers once you start to fasten your pace a bit. you were getting so close, you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. his words stirred up butterflies in your stomach, and you moan once geto moves the toy aside just to take matters into his own hands. he starts to rub against your slick entrance himself, feeling just how soaked you were, mindlessly throbbing.

if it was anything geto was good with, it was his fingers. he snickers against your ear, maneuvering sweet circles against your cunt before your thighs start to lock and tremble. by this point, you were slowing down and you whimpered, feeling a familiar feeling brew up.

milliseconds later, he coaxed an orgasm out of you like it was nothing. your body felt limp, and you cutely went back against him, pant after pant. “awww,” geto hums, and his dick remains still inside of you. geto removed his lengthy fingers, only to bring them towards your face. “open wide for me, baby. taste how much of a mess you made on me,” and without a second of hesitation, you part your lips, moving your tongue, and take his fingers right into your mouth. you moaned, making your hips start up again because you wanted more — it was salacious, tasting your sweetness all on his fingers, lapping it up. “such a messy baby. should make you clean my cock up next with that pretty tongue of yours.”

𖢺 TOJI FUSHIGURO.

with toji, he’d have you riding him whilst he’s watching some movie or tv show. it’s playing in the background, and he has to keep turning the volume up notch after notch to drown out your cute moans. “doll, y’er gonna make me miss the good part.”

you huff out a single hitched breath, wrapping your arms over him. it was your idea to ride him, he didn’t mind, not in the slightest. toji was smoking too — a perfectly rolled up blunt sticking out near the corner of his lips. toji brings a rough hand towards your head, giving you a stiff pat.

he was so big, regardless of how many countless times you took him. you could never get used to his size. his cock stretched your walls out so easily, it had you drooling for more.

his base thwacked against you the more you piston your hips, moving back and forth in a repetitive rhythm. toji’s attention was mainly focused on the movie, a raspy chortle leaving his lips from the cheesy written dialogue.

he spots you glaring at him and he smirks. “what? can’t you see i’m busy.”

“pay attention to me,” you whine, and toji only snickers at your cute needy tone. your pussy wrapped around him, a tight snug and an even more perfect fit. your rhythm was smooth, it was a perfect mixture of not too slow — yet not too fast either.

as you stared into toji’s dark eyes, his senses was severely heightened and he takes the blunt from his lips before raising a brow. “gimme a kiss.”

“eh. don’t gotta give you shit,” he mocks your tone, making a pout form in your lips. he was such an insufferable tease, his left hand spanks your ass sharply, earning out a sweet whimper from you. toji caresses it afterwards, only to spank it again. “say pretty please. go ‘head, talk to me nice, little girl.”

you cutely glare before looking down, clawing near his perfectly toned chest. “i— can i have a kiss, pretty please?”

“it’s may i, not can i.”

“toji!”

he slyly smiles, rolling his dark green eyes. “i’m just fuckin’ with you,” and he brings a hand towards your ass yet again. his touch was so smooth, tracing your curves gingerly all against your waist. “c’mere ’n open y’er mouth.” he was balls deep, buried to the hilt and he lightly groans from feeling your warmth swallow him.

you were so toasty inside, you inch closer towards his face before opening your mouth slightly. toji licks his lips briefly, his tongue dragging against his scar before he blows smoke right into your mouth. you whine again from his teasing and he smirks. “oh. the baby’s still not satisfied?”

“want a kiss,” you pout, your weight just hovering over him. he felt your rhythm slow down and he chuckles — seeing you grow frustrated with your eyebrows curling into an irritated furrow. toji grabs your chin, and he pulls you right into him. you moaned, feeling him smack your ass to start riding him again. “t-toji please.”

“such a needy baby. always wanting a kiss,” and he gives you that kiss you so desperately yearned for. you whimper in his mouth, tasting how sweet he was. he places his blunt back near his tray and you were handsy, wrapping both arms over him. he chuckles, feeling you start to rock against him, his swollen cock was so fat inside of you—you just imagined the thought of him dumping yet another sloppy load into you. toji grunts, feeling you start to suck on his tongue, he leans back against the sofa while you deepen the kiss even further.

he groans, a hand curling around your throat, softly running a finger down the middle part of your neck before he briefly pulls away. toji’s eyes were half-lidded and right before he was about to finish inside of you, he pushes you aside to stare at the movie. black end credits were rolling and he grumbles. “tch. made me miss the ending.”

“s-sorry.” you mumble, catching your breath. you clearly wanted more . . still, he was stuffing you full with thick inches of his cock. you let off a gasp once toji lightly jostled you off of him. you land with a ‘oof’ — face flat on the sofa before he brings your ass a spank.

“yeah right,” he grumbles, grabbing his blunt again to stick it right between his teeth. he sucks through the air of the joint before groaning at your teasing arch. “know one way you can make it up to me. jus’ bend over ‘n face straight just for me, girl.”

21K notes · View notes

bbokicidal · 26 days ago

Text

Shut Up And Drive | SKZ

Can you handle the curves? Can you run all the lights? If you can, baby boy, then we can go all night

Hyung Line ☼ Smut ☼ MDNI: Car sex, Oral sex, Fingering, PinV ☼

Chan

He was a little hesitant when you had first suggested anything in the car - His top priority is you and your safety and if he's driving that means that your life is in his hands.

But when he sees the way you look reaching up to pull your hair back, the way you clip it behind your ears so it stays out of your face, the way you look over at him and look to see if he'd caught on - God, he's gone. He's not going to stop you and honestly he can't with the way you tug his fly down and tug his cock out. He's already half hard just from your conversation earlier on in the day and now it's happening - Your lips are wrapping around his tip and he's breathing heavy at the feeling of your tongue sliding over him. You're taking him in your throat and he's choking back quiet growls of pleasure.

He loves it way more than he should - and even though he wants to relish in the feeling of your throat tightening around his cock when he bucks his hips up, he has to keep his focus on the road.

Though he does let himself indulge in you a little by threading his free hand into your hair to to push your head down. Just a little.

Lee Know

Minho's never felt so desperate for touching before. The drinks from the bar had flooded his system and even though he'd only had two, he felt so.. hot. His skin felt on fire everywhere your hands laid and he was sure you felt the same. With the way he had guided you back to the car only to open the back door and push you onto the seat, his hands wandering your body and pushing up under your shorts just to yank them down.

He's hasty and quick with it, his movements rough as he pushes your top up next. His hands push over your chest, nudging the fabric up towards your collar bone and sighing out every time his lips leave your throat. He doesn't want to move any lower but he has to; He needs to taste you, even if it means he won't be able to hear your moans right in his ear.

His hands push back down over your hips, gripping at your curves and pushing down to hold you against the leather seat while he laps between your thighs. Shoulders broad and heavy with muscle keep your legs pushed apart, his lips pressing kisses and sucking at your clit with an eagerness you hadn't felt from him before. If this was how he was after just having a couple drinks to loosen him up, maybe you'd be having more nights in at home; You know, with wine. Or shots.

Changbin

"I can't keep going if you squirm like that, baby. You've gotta sit still for me."

He can't complain about how cute your squirming is with his hand between your legs but when you wriggle like that it makes it harder for him to focus on two things at once. Changbin already can't multitask very well but he's doing his absolute best. Eyes on the road, hand between your legs and two thick fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. He's not doing bad either, his fingers curling to find that soft spongy spot against your walls that makes you whine. He just can't get over how he can feel your pussy clenching around him, leaking down

"Need it," You gasp out as your head pushes back against the headrest. "I need your cock, Binnie. Please. Please, it feels so good but I need it.."

And who is he to deny you when you're whimpering like that? Changbin goes quiet for a moment before a soft huff of air escapes his lips, the corner curling up into a knowing smirk. Alright, yeah. Since you were begging so nicely and since it was clear he'd made you incredible wet,

"Let me pull over, baby. Then I'll give you anything you want."

Hyunjin

"Oh my God," Hyunjin chokes out the words as his head drops back, resting against the middle seat. His hands had fallen to the seat beneath him, fingers curling into the leather as the soft plap of your hips meeting his own filled the car. He wanted to touch you so bad but you were doing just fine on your own so far, so he wouldn't until you need support.

Your hips slam down on his own, hands finding his shoulders to keep a tight hold onto his sweater so you wouldn't slip up. You'd learned your lesson before. He's happy to let you grab and grope at him as much as you want, even when your hands wander to his chest under his sweater so you can get a grab at him.

He keeps his eyes on you, lidded and warm and heavy with want. It's the moment your hips stutter and your breathing becomes heavy that he takes over, his hands finding your hips to control your movements instead. It's a little sloppy but he's doing what he can in the cramped backseat, hips bucking up to meet you halfway. His cock pushes in deeper when he's in control, tip kissing and pushing at your cervix every time he drives into your pussy with more force.

His teeth sink into his lip as he whines, looking up at you. "I don't want this to ever end." Which was.. pretty much code for; You weren't getting away after just one orgasm.

#skz x reader #skz imagine #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #bangchan x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #leeknow x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #bangchan smut #lee know smut #changbin smut #hyunjin smut

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flwrstqr · 6 months ago

Text

✶ : ENHYPEN WHEN YOU MAKE THEM FLUSTER ╰——𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ bf!enhypen x f!r 1OOOwc. ── est relationship, skinship, petnames ｡｡ ⠀fluff ✦ 𝓒ATALOGUE ♡ ◞

DANi : my christmas gift for my flueries hehe (> <)

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 heeseung pauses mid-bite, chopsticks hovering in the air as he catches you staring at him. you’re perched on the edge of the counter, chin in your hand, a soft smirk playing on your lips. “what?” he mumbles, the tips of his ears already turning pink. “nothing,” you say, but your gaze doesn’t waver, tracing the way his lips curl around his words and the slight furrow of his brows. “you’re just... really cute when you eat.” his eyes widen, and he sets his bowl down a little too quickly, spilling some broth. “cute? who says that?” he huffs, but his voice cracks slightly, betraying him. you lean in, close enough to brush his bangs out of his eyes, and whisper, “i do.” heeseung freezes, unable to meet your eyes, muttering something about how unfair you are. yeah, he’s so down bad, and he knows it.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 jay’s hand stills on the page of the book he’s reading when you lean in, far closer than necessary, to point at something in the text. he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, trying not to focus on how your shoulder brushes his or how he can feel the faint warmth of your breath. “you’re really into this, huh?” you tease softly, and his ears turn crimson, though he clears his throat like it’s nothing. “it’s... interesting,” he replies, his voice steady despite the way his heart’s racing. you tilt your head, your face just inches from his, and he freezes. “jay, are you blushing?” you ask, a playful lilt in your voice. he straightens up immediately, closing the book with a soft thud. “no, i’m just warm,” he lies smoothly, standing up to grab you a drink because, even flustered, he’s ever the gentleman.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 it happens so suddenly—you’re walking side by side, the world around you fading into a serene hum, when your fingers brush against his. before you know it, your fingers, almost shy, find their way to jake’s lacing together. his head snaps toward you, surprise flickering in his eyes before it melts into something softer—something teasing. “what’s this?” he grins, a playful lilt in his voice. “couldn’t resist holding my hand, huh?” you roll your eyes, mumbling something about it just being cold, but the way his thumb brushes over your knuckles sends your excuse crumbling. “sure, keep telling yourself that,” he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath tickling your ear. now it’s you who’s flustered, cheeks burning as he laughs, his own face just a touch pinker. “you’re cute when you’re all shy, you know that?” jake always wins these games, and it’s almost unfair—almost.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 when you tie sunghoon's tie, sunghoon goes weak on his knees. he's standing so close, his tall frame looming over you, and you can feel the heat radiating off him. his eyes flicker down to your face, and you catch how his gaze lingers on your lips before quickly darting away. "you're hopeless at this," you tease softly, tugging the fabric snug against his collar. his ears turn red, and he lets out a soft, nervous laugh, his hands fidgeting at his sides. but before you can tease him further, he tilts your chin up, and suddenly, his lips are on yours. when he pulls back, his cheeks are a deep red. "i had to shut you up somehow," he mumbles, avoiding your wide-eyed gaze as he adjusts his tie.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 it happens so subtly, that even you almost miss it. your hand brushes against sunoo’s jawline as you fix his collar. his expression doesn’t falter at first—cool and composed, the way he always is (our #nonchalant king)—but then you let your thumb gently graze his skin. that’s when it happens. his breath hitches, his eyes flickering down before darting back up, and for the briefest moment, his cheeks turn flushed. “what are you doing?” he asks, voice quieter than usual. but you can see it now: the faint pink dusting his cheeks, the way he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting further. you smile, leaning in a little closer. “just fixing your collar,” you murmur.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 it’s the way you catch him off guard, leaning in with that teasing little grin he can never resist. your lips brush his cheek first, before you shift just enough to press a proper kiss to the corner of his mouth. “baby,” you whisper. jungwon stays perfectly still, his smile unfaltering—cool, easy, like nothing you do ever fazes him—but the flush creeping up his neck betrays him. his hand instinctively reaches for your waist. “what’s wrong, wonnie?” you tease, and his grin widens. “you’re impossible,” he replies. and when you laugh, kissing him again just to hear him sigh your name, he’s already leaning in, completely and utterly yours.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 the moment the words "pretty boy" leave your lips, riki freezes for a split second, eyes wide before he scoffs, trying to play it off. "you’re so annoying," he mutters, but his cheeks are turning pink, and he can’t hide it. you grin, leaning closer just to push his buttons further, and he groans dramatically. "stop looking at me like that, it’s weird!" he complains, but then—like clockwork—he pulls you by the waist, burying his face in your shoulder to hide his embarrassment. "you’re the worst," he mumbles, voice muffled, but his arms tighten around you. when you tease him again, calling him "my pretty boy," he pulls back just enough to glare at you. "seriously, stop it!" he protests, only to mess up your hair . but his smile gives him away of how madly in love he is with you.

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3verythingiknowaboutlove · 7 months ago

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first fall of snow

how spencer guesses you're pregnant before you actually tell him

fluff word count: 1390 warnings & tags & stuff: pregnant reader, slight issues with mother mentioned?, non-graphic vomiting, mentions/allusions to winter holidays being celebrated, kinda spencer's pov but still 2nd pov, reader is scared spencer will leave her lol, anxious!reader in general, mentions of death?, probably medical inaccuracies ive never been pregnant author's note: hiiii i'm forcing myself to post this because if i don't then i'll never post and i'm being BRAVE. i hope it can be a little comforting maybe. i've realllyyyy been struggling with my take on spencer's characterization lately soo this was kinda like a bootcamp/exercise situation into his mind and less an expression of my writing skills, iykwim. let me know your thoughts if u have any! i love you & have a splendid day!!

Spencer is walking—speed walking—toward his car, away from the case he just finished, away from serial killers and guns and geographical profiling and death.

He places his feet carefully on the snow-covered sidewalk with each step, the cold air biting at his face. He barely notices it, absorbed in the path ahead, as the snow provides a satisfying crunch underfoot—a nice background to his perpetually racing mind.

He doesn’t like the winter. It’s always too harsh outdoors, and too stuffy indoors, and he’s trapped in a suffocating haze no matter where he goes.

His phone starts to vibrate gently in his pocket, interrupting his racing thoughts for a split second. His pace falters as he pulls it free, a quick smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he sees it’s your name on the screen.

“Hi. How are you?” he asks after picking up, watching his breath come out in puffs of vapor in the cold air.

Winters, however, have gotten progressively better each year he spends with you.

“...I’m okay,” you say, though the crack in your voice reveals the all-consuming ache in your bones and mind.

“No. You’re overwhelmed,” he guesses in his matter-of-fact way, voice gentle. You huff out a soft laugh at his ability to read you, never getting old.

“Yeah, I guess. A little. The holiday season, you know. Are you on your way home?” you ask, voice softer now. You’re sitting on the couch of yours and Spencer’s cozy apartment, wrestling with a blanket to cover your lap, and bouncing your leg relentlessly.

“I’m walking to the car now. Hey, have you done the crossword today?” Spencer asks, words a familiar, tender remedy for your nerves. You told him a long time ago that hearing his voice makes you feel better, and there are times, like these, where he just knows it’s what you need. You rest our head on the arm of the couch, curling up.

“No, I didn’t have the time. Why?”

“There was an interesting question about causes of death in Shakespeare plays, but they completely messed up the part of speech. It read, ‘Popular ways to die by the hands of England’s national poet’. I thought it was ‘poisons’ at first, but it was actually ‘stabbed’, even though the correct answer grammatically should’ve been ‘stabs’ or ‘stabbings’,” he says, his car now in sight through the steady sprinkle of snow coming down. “Do you think I should send an email to let them know? I guess stabbing does make more sense, though, versus poison, because throughout his works, thirty characters out of his 74 that died were stabbed compared to only four that were poisoned. Three were stabbed and poisoned. Did you know that two were actually baked into pies, which is a-”

“Oh my god, the pie,” you groan, cutting him off mid-sentence, sitting up hastily, the blanket falling to the floor.

“Pie?”

“Yeah. My mom coerced me into making it to bring tomorrow.” You pad over to the kitchen and crouch down to peek through the hazy glass of the oven, inspecting it. “Oh,” you murmur. “It’s…not pretty.”

He sandwiches the phone in between his ear and shoulder, gently opening the door to his car to sit down as he listens to you. He turns the heat on, exhaling in an exhausted relief, hovering his hand over where the air comes out.

“Can you tell me what it looks like? Maybe I can help,” he suggests, leaning back against the headrest and letting his eyes close for a second. You put the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter as you bend down to take it out. “Don’t burn yourself,” he adds, hearing what you’re doing.

“I’m not going to burn my-” you cut yourself off with a huff. “Whatever. It’s just really messy. There’s like… liquid overflowing where the lattice should be.”

He hums. “How long has it been cooking for?”

“45 minutes. My mom sent me this one ancient recipe that I had to use written on parchment paper from like 70 years ago, and it does not have a bake time listed, so I’m just eyeballing it.”

“Okay. You could either put it back in the oven in hopes that more of the liquid will evaporate, or you can leave it out to cool down and hopefully thicken,” he says.

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you sound exhausted and need your sleep.”

You sigh, staring at your mess of a pie, hopes that you’ll appease your mother this year slipping further and further away, soon to be completely buried by the snow.

“Hey. I’m sure it’ll taste really good. Besides, people still liked Shakespeare, and he wrote about much worse pies than you could ever make.”

A smile pulls at your lips.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll just leave it out to cool and head to bed. Will you stay on the phone a little longer?” you ask, padding over to your shared bedroom.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t start driving as you talk, not when nearly 2000 people die per year due to driving on icy roads, and two thirds of them were people who were reported to not be paying close enough attention.

And especially not when 54 hours ago on your last phone call, he noticed a drastic shift in your behavior, and was quickly able to tell that you were pregnant.

He had too much waiting for him at home to be spinning out on black ice because he was talking to you and not watching the road.

He chooses instead to look outside at the falling snow, blanketing the city, his city, the very first for D.C. to have this winter out of the septillion snowflakes planet earth receives each year.

…

Spencer gets home a little later that night, holding another pint of cherries in his hands. Not for the pie—which he turns to see resting on the stove and winces slightly at—but for you.

Cherries, with their 342 mg of potassium per cup, help replenish lost electrolytes and can soothe nausea.

He’s expecting it to start any day now.

He quietly steps into the bedroom, setting his bag by the door to be dealt with tomorrow. The soft glow of the lamp that was left on, presumably for him by your endlessly considerate heart, provides just enough light so he can get changed. He then finally clambers into bed next to you, one hand reaching out to lace in your hair, moving his fingers to gently scratch by the nape of your neck. He lifts the other to rest, like you're made of a delicate china, on your lower stomach, sighing in pure relief the second it makes contact.

You turn sleepily, humming when you’re met with the sight of him. “Spence,” you murmur, contented.

“Hi. I really didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry,” he says, so quietly.

“I'm glad you did. I like it when you wake me.” You tuck yourself closer to him. “I love you.” His hand comes to trace gentle patterns all over your back and arm, and he gives you a little kiss, adoringly.

“Go back to sleep. I love you.”

You let your eyes shut once again, this time much easier now that he’s with you. You inhale his scent, which you swear could repair anything broken or lost in this world. You exhale, wondering if he’d still hold you the same way after learning that you’re carrying his child.

It’s a scary thought, but you’re comforted by his warm touch, pushing you farther out into the deep sea of sleep.

Once your breaths get steady and your mouth parts slightly, he adds, in a whisper, “Both.”

…

The next morning, when you’re hunched over the toilet bowl, Spencer is there with you, rubbing your back and wiping your teary eyes. You look up to him after brushing your teeth, and no words are exchanged. He tugs you into his arms, silently quelling any of the countless anxieties swarming your mind, at least in this moment.

His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He lets it rest there, cupping your jaw.

“Let’s go shopping after breakfast today, okay? You need prenatal vitamins.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And a new pie.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #fanfic #piper’s works

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pixiefelixie · 13 days ago

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*ೃ༄ 김승민 "2004"

content: seungmin x reader, drabble, pure fluff, established relationship (early stage)

based off of this request!

you hadn’t looked at him for five whole minutes. that was a record.

seungmin was trying to stay cool about it—arm draped behind you, hoodie slightly pulled up on his wrist, leg bouncing a little as the city rolled past the tinted windows—but you could feel his curiosity creeping in.

“you good?” he finally asked, voice dry but playful. “or is your phone suddenly more interesting than your boyfriend?”

you looked up from your phone just long enough to let the word hang there for a second. boyfriend. it sounded… nice. dangerously nice. you’d definitely be replaying it in your head later while brushing your teeth.

you snorted and went back to scrolling. which, frankly, made it worse for him. because now you were smiling at your phone and not even sharing what was so funny, and he was starting to spiral.

you were both in the backseat on your way home from your fifth date. fifth. things were still shiny and new and a little awkward around the edges. like how he always sat one inch closer than necessary but never actually touched you, or how you still overthought every joke you texted him. it was still that early stage where calling him cute felt more nerve wracking than the baseball game you’d just watched together.

he leaned in slightly. “what are you looking at?”

you didn’t answer right away, just tilted your phone screen toward him casually.

and then he saw it.

seungmin chuckled shyly, nose scrunching, eyes squinting like he wanted to disappear into the seat.

on your screen was a photo of him—tiny seungmin, maybe four, inside a plastic construction truck ride. baseball cap and the cutest smile.

he takes another look and immediately groans, throwing his head back against the headrest, face already flushed. “oh my god.”

you laugh. “you willingly sent this out to the internet.”

“yeah, but not for you to see,” he mumbles, dragging a hand down his face.

you blink. “why not me?”

he hesitates for a beat, then glances out the window like he’s considering opening it and throwing himself out. “i’m trying to be impressive, okay? i can’t exactly do that when you’re looking at toddler me with… puffy cheeks and a giant g on my head.”

you snort, completely unsympathetic. “impressive? you?”

he side-eyes you, lips twitching. “wow.”

you nudge his leg with yours, still giggling. “no, i mean—if you stayed like that, maybe you would’ve been impressive. you were so much cuter, what happened?”

and for a second, he doesn’t say anything.

just looks at you.

you glance over, and he’s leaning back against the seat, one arm stretched behind you, head tilted slightly like he’s studying you.

“what?” you ask, self-conscious now.

he doesn’t answer.

instead, he suddenly lunges forward—fingers curling into your side with zero warning.

“seungmin—!”

you squeal, practically folding in on yourself as you try to escape his grip.

he finally lets go, laughing under his breath as you squirm away and glare at him from the far corner of the seat.

“this,” you huff, breathless, hair slightly disheveled from the ambush, “this is what i mean. you’re so—so insufferable.”

he shrugs, smug. “and yet you keep flirting with me.”

“i threaten you over text on a daily basis.”

“exactly,” he nods. “flirting.”

you groan and sink lower into your seat. “i literally hate you.”

“that’s not true,” he says, stretching his legs out and looking entirely too pleased with himself. “you think i’m the best.”

“i think you peaked in 2004 and it’s been downhill ever since.”

he goes quiet.

like—suspiciously quiet.

you glance over and catch him staring out the window, lips pressed together, arms crossed.

“…seungmin.”

nothing.

you nudge his leg with your foot. “oh, come on. you can’t be serious.”

he lets out a long, pained sigh. the kind people make when they're narrating their own tragic biopic.

you snort. “don’t be so dramatic. i complimented your giant baby cheeks.”

he doesn’t move.

“and your dumb little raincoat.”

still no response.

“fine,” you sigh, scooting closer. “you didn’t peak in 2004.”

his brows lift slightly, but he doesn’t turn his head.

you lower your voice a little, softer now. “you’re great now too, okay?”

that earns the tiniest twitch of his mouth.

“and i like you. obviously. i wouldn’t go to a baseball game for just anyone.”

he finally turns, looking at you—really looking at you. his expression is quiet, but there’s warmth behind it. something that makes your chest do that dumb fluttery thing again.

“…you mean that?” he says, still pretending to pout a little.

you meet his gaze and nod, lips pulling into a crooked smile. “yeah. you’re still my boyfriend, insufferable and all.”

and that’s all it takes.

he leans in, eyes flicking down to your lips like instinct, and kisses you. his hand brushes your cheek, his thumb grazes your jaw, and your heart forgets how to beat normally.

you melt.

there’s no other word for it—your whole body just softens, like something in you gave up the fight the second his lips touched yours. when he smiles into it—barely there, just enough to feel—it sends a wave of warmth crawling from your chest to your fingertips.

he pulls back, just enough to speak, eyes still half-lidded, voice lower than usual. “i’m glad you’re mine.”

your breath catches, just for a second. then you laugh, quiet and helpless, forehead tipping against his.

you don’t say anything else.

instead, you unbuckle your seatbelt with a soft click, shifting over until you’re curled into the middle seat, legs tucked up, head resting deeper against his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

he adjusts, wordlessly pulling his arm around you, fingers curling loosely at your side. outside, the streetlights blur past, streaks of gold and red dancing across the glass. the car is quiet except for the hum of the road beneath you.

you close your eyes.

your phone slips from your hand into your lap, screen dimming slowly.

and just like that, you decide: maybe you could survive being insufferable together.

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lvl109 · 10 days ago

Text

"honey,"

he pokes his head in around the corner of the living room as you lift your head up without your eyes leaving your screen, the sound of typing filling his ears. you hum faintly in greeting.

it's not enough.

fingers curling around the wall, his brows furrow as he pouts when your attention isn't immediately redirected to him. what was more important than spending time with him now? you'd been in front of that screen for hours. he's sure your eyes hurt. his hurt looking at your horrendous posture. so he tries again.

"baby,"

he gets words this time, a mumbled yes? distracted by tiny words on a screen. a small upgrade, but you're still not looking at him. he huffs in disbelief in a short symphony with the sound of your computer whirring away. he glares the traitorous device with the evilest stink eye he can muster.

"angel?" he steps into the living room, shoehorning his way into the perfectly crafted bubble of zen you'd set up a few hours ago. ...if rumpled papers, discarded cups of whatever contents were helping you stay awake, and scattered pens and highlighters could be considered zen-like. he toes at a crumpled ball of paper and you frown at the sound. "my loveee—"

"what do you want, satoru?"

when you finally look at him, exhaustion coating your words with slight bitterness, his smile drops. the bags under your eyes are heavy and your shoulder sag with the weight of responsibility. you look... for a lack of better words, terrible. he takes a step back.

"sorry," he murmurs. his shoulders shrug with forced nonchalance like a scolded teenager. "haven't seen you in a while. missed you, s'all."

he spins around to leave, but not without gently placing a bottle of water and one of your favorite snacks on the table near your laptop. "sorry for interruptin', angel. just take a break, yeah? hate seein' you like this."

when he rounds the corner, the heartbreaking sound of your tired sigh hurts his heart. but he won't push. you'll come to him when you're ready. he can be patient.

and his patience pays off in the form of you crawling into bed in the early hours of the morning. it scares the shit out of him, half asleep when you whisper hushed apologies on the verge on tired tears, but he pulls you into a warm hug the second he registers the first one cascading down your cheek. he doesn't push, doesn't ask any questions, and just holds you as his hand rubs soothing shapes and patters across your back.

"we're gonna sleep in tomorrow," he murmurs softly. "'kay? miss waking up next to you. so don't leave."

please stay, is what goes on unsaid. and you do.

#file.drabbles #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo drabbles #gojo comfort #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk comfort #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk drabbles

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mediumgayitalian · 22 days ago

Text

"It looks good on you."

"You think everything looks good on me."

"Actually," Nico says, grinning wolfishly, "I think nothing looks absolutely great on you."

Will blinks. It takes him a second -- not a perfect line, Nico will admit -- but there is an exact moment where the meaning registers and his bright eyes widen and his face goes scarlet. Red as sunrise, as strawberries; he glows, a little, and punches Nico in the shoulder so hard he would cry from the pain if he wasn't so busy crying from laughter.

"We are in public," Will hisses, steam beginning to curl from his hair.

"Your face," Nico wheezes.

Will punches him again but it's a little softer, this time, and he sits in the corner of their cramped changeroom in this weird-smelling Kohl's and hunches in on himself so far his chin hits his chest, too-small shoulders of the plasticky suit jacket sticking up a little. Nico laughs for too long, probably, and he shouldn't, really, because Will is sensitive enough right now and Nico is not helping.

But he is so cute, when he scowls. One eye squints just barely more than the other. And it's hard to get this kind of a reaction from him.

Nico guesses because Will could hear the truth in the sentence, that he is so flustered.

"I do think you look good," Nico offers, voice a little hoarse. He accompanies his promise with a small, real smile, nudging Will's shoes with his own, and Will huffs. And he crosses his arms. And he looks to the side, to the mirror. Meets Nico's eyes, after a moment.

Nico holds his gaze.

"You mean it."

His voice is soft. He pitches it up, like a question, but it isn't: he can tell that Nico does, can hear it in his voice, see it in the set of his shoulders. But Nico gets up, anyway, shuffles the six inches forward and cups his face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks. Leans in close. Hovers.

"I mean it," he confirms, voice low, eyes lidded. "You look good, tesoro. We'll get it tailored." He flicks his gaze down. "But you look nice, cleaned up."

"I feel like a kid playing pretend," Will admits.

"As opposed to a kid playing doctor?"

"...Yes."

"Hm."

He sighs when Nico kisses him. More of an -- exhale, than anything. A short little thing, a punched out breath, relief, reassured.

"Don't get so far in your head," Nico says softly. He traces a line with the pad of his thumb, right under Will's eye. Will leans into his hand, blonde eyelashes fluttering shut. "I can't follow you, there."

He can feel Will quirk a smile, pressed against his lips, feel the pleased little hum he lets out at the familiar tease.

"Can't have that," Will murmurs, kissing him again, and again. "Can't go anywhere you can't meet me."

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vibeswithdivs · 1 month ago

Text

study me?

The soft hum of the ceiling fan circled overhead, gentle and rhythmic, barely louder than the open window that let in the evening breeze. Somewhere outside, the city was winding down — car horns distant, people quieter, the day folding in on itself like laundry at the end of a Sunday.

You sat cross-legged on the edge of the hotel bed, a borrowed t-shirt hanging low on your shoulder — one of Oscar’s — and a microfiber towel still wrapped around your head like a soft turban. Your fingers were paused over your toiletries bag, eyes flicking between the tiny array of bottles you’d packed and the stubborn ache crawling up the back of your neck.

It had been a long day. Not the bad kind — just the quiet, slow-draining sort that leaves your body asking for softness. You wanted clean sheets and a warm hoodie. You wanted peppermint tea. You wanted someone to take care of you, just for a few minutes.

And maybe, just maybe, you wanted him to be that someone.

Oscar’s voice floated from the small kitchenette near the window, muffled slightly. “Babe, are you still alive in there?”

You gave a lazy groan.

He peeked his head around the corner, eyes landing on you instantly. “Still battling the towel, I see.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Oscar grinned — that quiet, lopsided kind of grin he saved for these off-grid moments when the world wasn’t watching. He was already in his sweatpants, curls slightly damp, sleeves pushed to his forearms as he padded over with two mugs in hand.

“Tea,” he declared, holding one out to you.

“Did you put honey in it?”

“Would I dare not?”

You took it from him, nudging his hip gently with your knee as he sat beside you. The bed dipped under his weight, and his body heat instantly curled around you like a second blanket.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You sipped. He watched you over the rim of his mug.

Then, your shoulders slumped forward with a tiny huff. “I don’t want to do my hair.”

Oscar looked down at the towel. “You have to?”

“If I don’t, I’ll wake up with a bird’s nest. Or worse — a bird’s nest with frizz.”

He blinked at you. “Is that… a level in your hair hierarchy?”

“Yes,” you said solemnly. “And it’s brutal.”

He laughed softly, setting his mug on the nightstand.

“Can I help?” he asked.

You snorted. “You want to help with this?” You tugged the towel off dramatically and let your damp curls fall out, heavy and wild and sticking in every possible direction. “This is a commitment. This is war.”

Oscar stared at your hair like it was a challenge issued directly to him.

“I like your hair,” he said, like that was enough.

And maybe it was.

You raised an eyebrow, cautious. “You sure? There’s leave-in conditioner involved. And a wide-tooth comb. And—”

“I’m in,” he said, standing.

You blinked. “You don’t even know what ‘plopping’ is.”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I’m a fast learner. And I’m very coachable.”

You giggled despite yourself. “Okay. Let me get my stuff.”

Five minutes later, you sat in front of him on the floor, back to the bed, your knees tucked up as you sorted through your curly-hair arsenal. Oscar sat cross-legged behind you, sleeves pushed higher, a look of comically intense focus on his face.

“Okay,” you said, holding up the conditioner. “First step. This goes in everywhere. Then we detangle.”

He took the bottle from you like it was a sacred object, squirted a generous amount into his palm, and hesitated.

“Do I just… go for it?”

“Gently,” you said, half-laughing. “I’m not a horse.”

He spread the cream through his hands and began working through your curls, slowly and carefully. His fingers started at the ends, just like you’d taught him, curling around each section like they were made of glass. You felt the weight of his hands as they combed through, the gentle tug of knots giving way under his touch.

The room was quiet. Just the soft drag of fingers through hair, your own breath slowing as you relaxed under the feeling.

“I didn’t think you’d be so good at this,” you murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

Oscar chuckled. “You underestimate how much I study you.”

You turned your head slightly. “Study me?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, rubbing the cream into another section. “I mean, I watch you do this all the time. Plus, I like your curls. They’re kinda… you.”

Your throat caught for a second.

“Also,” he added with a sheepish grin, “I’ve watched a few videos.”

You blinked, twisting around. “You what?”

He looked slightly embarrassed. “That time in Monaco, when you said your diffuser broke and your curls were being annoying? I looked up a few curly-hair tutorials that night. Just in case.”

Your heart squeezed like someone had taken it between their palms and held it gently.

“Oscar…”

“I just wanted to understand,” he said simply. “You spend so much time taking care of it. It’s part of you. I didn’t want to mess it up.”

You turned back around, suddenly shy.

“Okay,” you said softly. “Comb time.”

He took the wide-tooth comb from your hand. “Same thing?”

“Start at the ends, work up.”

He did, slow and careful, the plastic slipping through your damp strands with small snags here and there. When he hit a knot, he didn’t yank. He paused, used his fingers first, untangling with a kind of quiet patience that surprised you.

At one point, your head dropped forward, eyes closed.

His fingers moved through your curls like they belonged there — gentle, focused, reverent.

Neither of you spoke for a long while.

Then you whispered, “You’re really good at this.”

Oscar hummed. “Might change careers. Start a curly hair spa. No talking, just detangling.”

You laughed softly, the kind of laugh that curved inward, warm and sleepy.

When he finally finished, he set the comb aside and ran his fingers through one last section, twisting a curl gently and letting it spring back.

“There,” he murmured. “Perfect.”

You turned around slowly to face him.

Your curls were soft and springy now, damp ringlets framing your face in loose coils. He reached up and brushed one back, letting his thumb trail along your temple.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?”

“For caring. For learning. For being… you.”

Oscar’s eyes searched yours.

And then, very gently, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. A warm, lingering kiss that said I’m here. I see you. I love every tangled bit of you.

Your fingers curled in the hem of his shirt.

“I’m gonna do your hair next,” you whispered into his chest.

He laughed. “It’s all yours. Though fair warning — my curls are high maintenance.”

You looked up at him.

“I think I can handle them.”

He smiled, pulling you closer, your curls brushing against his jaw, soft and full and untamed — like love, like trust, like the quiet kind of devotion that grows when no one’s looking.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one x you #formula one imagine #formula one #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri

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lovebugism · 2 years ago

Note

ok reader x eddie having a casual conversation about sex, talking about what they're both into, leading to some smut??? just hearing what eddie's into sounds so hottttt (i imagine its filthy,, sorry)

ty for requesting! hope you like it!! — a failed date with eddie leads to a night in and several confessions (established relationship, mostly fluff, talks of sex but no actual smut 18+, 1.6k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson is a hopeless romantic.

Not because he loves like it’s breathing (though some would argue otherwise), but because his attempts to be affectionate with you are complete and utter failures.

He had a whole romantic day planned. A late lunch, a quick walk, and then sunset at the park. Honestly, it probably would’ve been a pretty metal date if it was any day other than this one — the biggest flood of the whole goddamn year.

You got to the diner just fine but had to rush back to the trailer in the rain since he didn’t have his van. Thankfully, it waited to outright pour until he got you home. Now, his leather jacket — which you’d used as a makeshift umbrella — hangs beside the opened window to dry.

The orange autumn breeze rolls over your bare bodies like silk (because, of course, an innocent shower after getting drenched in the rain couldn’t not end in getting dirty again).

“Was all this just a ploy to get me into bed?” you tease, tracing the freckles on his back with the tip of your finger. “’Cause you coulda just asked, you know? I would’ve said yes.”

Lying flat on his stomach, Eddie laughs into his folded-up arms. His deep brown hair brushes his pale shoulders when he turns to look at you. His smile is swollen and rosy and crooked.

“You got me, princess. Making my girlfriend walk in disgusting weather was all a part of my evil plan.”

“I wouldn’t say it was evil.”

“No?”

“Sinful, maybe. Sexy, even,” you joke with a lopsided grin. “But no, not evil.”

“Is that so?” he lilts as he rises on his elbow to prop his cheek on his fist.

You shake your head and roll onto your back. Your eyes flit to the spotted ceiling. A smirk blossoms on your lips. “I feel like evil would imply that it was hurtful in some way. And that thing you did in the shower felt way too good to be evil.”

“What thing?” the boy wonders with pinched-together brows.

You shoot him a look. “You know…” you hum vaguely, expectantly.

“No. I don’t, actually,” Eddie laughs, mostly at himself. “I’m kinda dumb, in case you forgot.”

“You’re not dumb, Eds.”

“Stop being sweet. You’re deflecting.”

You concede with a small huff. “That… That thing. With your mouth. When you pressed me against the wall and— please, don’t make me describe it, Eddie,” you ramble, then cut yourself off to whine.

He meets your grimace with a boyish grin. “I don’t know. I kinda like hearing you talk about it.”

“I’ll die,” you deadpan.

“You’re so dramatic.”

His words are harsh, but his pink smile is kind. He kisses you with it after — a smacking peck to the corner of your mouth that migrates rather quickly. He sprinkles his lips along your jaw and chin and neck.

That’s where he lingers.

Eddie finds your pulse point and goes a half-inch higher, just like he did while he was fucking you against the shower wall. You nearly came the first time he kissed you there.

He sucks at the delicate skin until he leaves another faint mark. The feeling of his tongue and teeth on your newfound sweet spot makes your toes curl. It has you moaning out loud before you mean to.

His lips audibly smack when he pulls away.

“That thing?” he wonders, smiling down at you like he already knows the answer.

Your thighs clench together. Your bones are made of mush. “That thing,” you repeat in the affirmative.

“Well, if we’re sharing secrets…” Eddie singsongs, then leans in all close like he’s about to spill the latest gossip. His fingers spread out along your bare waist, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I really liked it when you got all mean.”

You hadn’t thought much of it, then — when Eddie edged you on the counter with his fingers and laughed when you writhed.

You didn’t even let him make it up to you after, just sucked him off and told him he wasn’t allowed to touch you. “Don’t cum ’til I tell you to, understand?” you’d said. “Or I’m gonna get myself off, and you’re gonna watch.”

He was a good boy for you, though, and you let him fuck you in the shower.

Your nose scrunches in muted embarrassment. “I wasn’t being that mean, was I?”

“No. I mean, you could certainly get meaner…” Eddie assures with a shake of his head, then grins as his fingers crawl up your ribcage. You fight back a shiver. “Which I think could be preferable from time to time.”

“So, you want me to be more… dominant?”

He shrugs a pale, freckled shoulder. “Yeah. Sometimes. I like watching you get all dumb for me, don’t get me wrong, but every time you get a little mean, I almost cum in my pants.”

The blatant confession makes you go slightly stupid. You just nod at him, lazy and unblinking. “Yeah. I can do that. You know, if that’s what you want.”

“I do want,” Eddie hums, matching your sloppy head shake. His nicotine-coated breath fans across your cheek. “Very, very much.”

“But not all the time, though, right?”

“No. Not all the time. Just… sometimes— when the moment’s right or whatever.”

“Sure…”

Eddie’s grin broadens when you trail off. A faraway look glazes over your eye. His brows raise expectantly. “What’s that look for?”

You blink rapidly as you descend from the clouds. Shaking your head, you dismiss him. “Nothing. Nothing— I just… I did kinda like not letting you come right away.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Eddie concurs, suddenly breathless.

Your gaze flits to his, mousy and twinkling. Your hands fidget above the covers. “And I kinda wanna try letting you cum and maybe… not stopping…”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. His mouth opens to respond, but he forgets how to speak. He barely remembers to breathe.

“Is that… Is that weird?” you ask, forcing a laugh at his unusual silence.

“No!” he blurts, sounding much louder in the honeyed quiet of his bedroom. “No, that’s… That’s really hot, actually. Like, really hot.”

He zones out just like you had. The imagery of it all makes his stomach whirl. He’s done it to you a number of times — brought you to the edge and kept on pushing you over until you pushed him away. But he’d never thought about ever doing it to himself till now.

Actually, there’s quite a lot of things he’s done to you that he might enjoy himself if he thinks about it.

The thought alone opens a world of possibility in his wild, wild head.

“Can I tell you about something I was thinking about the other day?” he wonders suddenly.

Though slightly startled by the blurted question, you nod. “Of course.”

His gaze flits away from yours. His hand fidgets at your waist, fingers softly scratching at your burning skin. “You know my handcuffs? The ones I clip on my jeans sometimes?”

Again, you nod.

“Well, I— I have the keys, you know? So it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we— you know— if we used them…”

“On me?” you press, brows pinched in distant concern.

Eddie shakes his head immediately. “No. I know you don’t like that.”

“So… on you?”

“Yeah. Maybe. If you want,” the boy mumbles, suddenly shy in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times — including earlier, when he was begging to cum in your mouth. “I just think it could be cool, you know? Like, you could tie me up and just… use me. If you want,” he repeats.

“Use you?” you repeat with a soft laugh.

He shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t— I don’t really care about getting off as much as I care about you getting off, you know? I just… wanna take care of you. Want you to take what you want.”

You open your mouth to respond only to find that all words have lost meaning. Your brain is a jumbled mess of alphabet soup. So you just nod, dumb at the very thought.

Eddie’s hand rises from the covers. His palm settles warm at your jaw. His fingers smell faintly of sex as his calloused thumb smooths across your chapped lips. “You could, like, rub yourself on my cock. Get yourself off on top of me,” he murmurs lowly to you, a quiet and crooked grin pulling at his mouth. “Wouldn’t that be metal?”

“Yeah…” you answer with a sigh, getting lost in the daydream right along with him. “Wouldn’t put you inside me at first, either. Not until you’re begging for it.”

His smile widens. “Exactly.”

“Then I’ll ride you until you make me cum.”

Eddie nods, egging you on. He tucks his face into your neck, if only to conceal how ardently he’s blushing. He hides his pink cheeks between your jaw and shoulder and kisses you where he knows it’ll drive you crazy.

“Mhmm?” he urges, muffled.

You sigh a faint moan. Your fingers curl in his wild hair. You press your lips to his temple and continue. “And I’ll let you come, too. Eventually… But I won’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he groans into your pulse.

“Not until you’ve filled me up three times—”

“Oh, fuck…”

You tug at his hair with a soft, stern touch you think you could learn to master for him. His lips click faintly when he parts from you. He blinks down at you with glassy chocolate eyes.

“Something like that?” you wonder, feigning innocence with a sweet-sounding lilt.

Eddie nods, sloppy and stupid. He stammers. “Yeah… Yeah. Some—Something like that.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things smut #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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saphiccarma · 3 months ago

Text

- Clicker Training

Relationships - Wandanat x Reader

Summary - Natasha and Wanda decide to clicker train you.

Warnings: edging (very breifly mentioned), eating out (r receiving), strap on (r receiving), riding said strap on, clicker training (duh), sorta mean wandanat

A/N: idk if i like this so might delete and rewrite in the morning, we'll see how it does

You're spread out on the bed, eagle style, as your ankles and wrists are tied. Cheeks flushed a hot red, your body thrums with pleasure, squirming and writhing while you whine desperately. There's vibe pressed up against your clit, set onto the highest setting as Wanda trails kisses along your body.

You'd been kept here for what felt like hours, tied up and edged over and over. Every time you got close, she would turn the vibrator down, leaving you dangling on the edge. Technically it was your fault for being a brat, for acting out when Wanda said she had work to do, but it wasn't fair that she was busy all the time and you were desperate for attention. Tears threaten to fall from the corners of your eyes as you hope that you can come before she stops you.

She trails her lips between your breasts, not quite where you want her, and down your stomach. Stopping right above your throbbing cunt, she glances up at you, green eyes shadowed by long lashes that have dark mascara applied.

"Are you ready to be a good girl?" One of her hands tweak your nipple, the other hidden from view and causing a mix of fear and anticipation to curl in your stomach. All she receives is a whine, "Words sweetheart."

Another needy whimper leaves you, hips bucking up into her face as her warm breath fans against your dripping cunt, "Yes mommy," you babble, "I'll be good. Promise- I can be good- Please I need you."

Your pathetic pleas have her smirking, and she squeezes your nipple roughly. Then a small clicking sound goes off, cutting through the air sharply and you lift your head up to stare at her quizzically. Wanda doesn't even acknowledge it, instead pulling the vibrator away. A choked sob leaves your throat, but it quickly turns into a moan as her lips press against your oversensitive core.

Her tongue laps up the juices leaking from your hole, applying a gentle pressure to your clit and sucking. That's all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge, tumbling into bliss as you moan and arch your back off the bed. Tears start to flow down your face, the pleasure overwhelming and you know Wanda adores the sight.

She doesn't stop until you've come down, panting and sweat slicked. When your eyes focus on her, the clicking sound goes off again and you tilt your head slightly.

"What's that?" Your voice is rough from the sounds you were making but you hardly care.

All Wanda does is smile cryptically and climb up the bed to rest on your side, pulling you close and kissing your forehead, "Don't worry about it pretty girl."

^_______________^

Natahsa rests her hands on your thighs, holding you upright even as you long to sink down. A frustrated whine is muffled into her shoulder as you squirm for the release you want. Her strap pokes the tip of your entrance, lifting her hips teasingly. The office is cold, your nipples pebbled and straining against the fabric of your bra as you try and sink down on her strap.

"Natty," you whine against her suit, "I've been good."

She clicks her tongue against her teeth, "I know you have милый, just let Daddy have her fun."

Her words make your chest bubble in frustration, and you express that with a petulant bite of her shoulder. She doesn't react, instead slowly rocking her hips to slide the strap through your folds, slowly gathering your wetness on it. You're positively dripping, sticky fluid running down your thighs and coating the silicone toy. Thighs tightening as you try and press down, Natasha digs her nails into your skin with a sharp exhale.

"Patience," she chides softly, a stern undertone to her words and you huff but obey. She dips her head down to kiss along your neck, setting your skin on fire and making your core throb with need. After she's sure you won't move, one of her hands slides to unclasp your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders and to the floor.

Licking her lips, Natasha takes one of your nipples into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. You moan, pressing your head further into her shoulder as your thighs shake and you roll your hips. The toy is still slowly sliding through your folds as Tasha plays with your breasts, her tongue and teeth teasing the sensitive peak.

"Please Tasha, I really need it," Tears gather in the corners of your eye as your voice increases a pitch. There's a clicking sound, echoing faintly in your ear as you plead.

She releases your nipple with a wet pop, "Well since you ask so nicely."

In one smooth movement she slams your hips down, burying the strap all the way in as both of you keen loudly. You're positive Wanda can hear you from her office next door and it's a wonder she hasn't barged in yet.

As Natasha's grip loosens on your hips you begin to bounce up and down, placing your hands on her shoulders for leverage. Her strap is girthy, thick ridges lining it that grind against your walls in just the right way that has you seeing stars. Your girlfriend helps you move up and down, her hands guiding your hips as you ride her desperately.

After a moment her head dips back down to your nipple and licks a long stripe up your breast before latching on to the little bud. The strap hits that spot buried deep inside you and your movements falter, fingers curling into her suit jacket as you let out a shuddering moan.

"Need some help?" She coos; voice filled with faux sympathy.

You nod, tears wetting the corners of your eyes, "Please Daddy."

Another click that's hardly noticeable through your haze of pleasure. You don't even notice one of her hands holding the device. With a satisfied hum, she grabs your hips with both hands and helps you slide up and down, your juices leaking onto her lap.

Your breathy sounds and wet squishing fill the room as you near your peak, biting down hard on your lip and closing your eyes. When she snaps her hips upward sharply, you muffle a scream into her shoulder, orgasm crashing over you.

Hips stuttering to a stop, you pant, a slight sheen of sweat sticking your hair to your face. Click. You let out a content sigh into her neck, wrapping your arms around her as her strap stays buried inside you.

^_______________^

The subtle clicker training went on for a few months. They always did it when you were too lost in the throes of pleasure to really acknowledge it, but your brain noticed, and it didn't take long for you to associate the sound with a good time.

Whether it was being coached through eating Wanda out and the click going off when you obeyed. Or following Natasha around the house like a little ducking, doing everything she says. Your girlfriends were training your body to respond to the sound and you didn't even notice.

Your dress flows down your frame as you shift impatiently next to Natasha and Wanda. The two are chatting to some of their colleagues at a work event, music playing softly over the speakers as everyone has some sort of drink. Except for you.

"Puppies don't get drinks." Wanda had told you, plucking the champagne out of your grip and ignoring your blushing cheeks.

Then you hear it, well not really, but your body registers it - a click. A familiar slickness gathers between your thighs, and you exhale sharply, pressing your legs together. Time passes on, your girlfriends continuing to chat as if you weren't there.

You begin rocking back and forth on your feet to soothe your boredom but it doesn't do much, so you resort to staring at the two redheads. Natasha has her hair pinned up in an elegant bun, a few strands let out to frame her face as they curl in soft rings. Her lips are coated in a red lipstick that highlights her eyes and the black suit she wears.

Wanda on the other hand, has her hair mostly down. Some of it is pulled into a half-ponytail, held together by a gold pin that matches her earrings and necklace. The tip of the necklace dips below the neckline of her stunning black dress, a perfect compliment to her wife's.

The younger woman catches you staring, taking a deliberate sip of her drink and swallowing slowly. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of her throat bobbing and she smirks. Click. You squeeze your thighs against each other, hoping for relief to the ache that's steadily building.

After a moment you tug on Natasha's sleeve, "Tasha," you whisper.

She doesn't even glance at you as she wraps her arm around your waist, tucking you into her side. Absently she places a kiss to your temple, letting her lips linger as she nods along to something Agatha is saying and then responding in kind.

Huffing, you turn and place a soft kiss on her neck, hoping to gain her attention. Click. Your brain grows foggy and you glance towards Wanda for help. Much like her counterpart, she doesn't even look at you. But her tongue swipes out to lick her lips and you know she realizes you’re staring.

Click

You grab Natasha's suit jacket tightly in your fist, resisting the urge to whine and stomp your feet. You want them to pay attention to you, to solve the ache between your thighs. Wanda finally turns her head to look at you, and as if sensing your annoyance, mouths, 'be a good girl.'

You nod reluctantly, shifting to try and adjust your panties subtly. Click. They're sticking to your skin down, drenched from how wet and needy you - ready to be fucked. It's a relief when people start clearing out, only a dozen or so left in the room. It's an even bigger relief when Wanda and Natasha bid their colleagues goodbye.

"Say goodbye darling," Natasha murmurs in your ear.

You stammer out a goodbye, rewarded with a click. The two guide you to the car and your steps are awkward and shaky, wetness gathering all over the inside of your thighs. You're positioned in the back seat, your girlfriends situated in the front.

Wanda turns back to look at you as Natasha starts driving, smirking as you squirm in your seat and hands twitch at your side, "You've been a good girl." You nod. Click. Desperation coats your fingers as you resist the urge to touch yourself right then and there. "Good girls get rewards."

pt.2?

#wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #wandanat smut

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fixated-cookies · 3 months ago

Note

Ok hear me out again how about this time Y/N is trying to be the flirty one to shadow milk cookie and pure vanilla cookie while they are busy and out of nowhere Y/N just starts to act flirty just wanted to see how they would react

Good luck dear ;)

Trying to fluster them while they are busy? oh, that's adorable. I'm just thinking how it would be, perhaps them sitting in a shared office? ahaha just thinking about it hilarious, shadow milk cookie and pure vanilla existing in a shared space peacefully? it'll have to do.

At first, they'll hardly acknowledge you. Shadow Milk is sprawled across a velvet lounge, flipping through one of his many scripts—plans, schemes, things that will no doubt cause someone (you) grief later. Pure Vanilla, on the other hand, sits at his desk, peacefully writing letters, lost in quiet thought.

At first, you keep it subtle—a lingering touch on Pure Vanilla’s sleeve, fingertips grazing the fine embroidery of his robes. A small sigh near Shadow Milk’s side, heavy with longing. Normally, he’d react instantly, latching onto any excuse to tease you, but instead, he merely turns a page, utterly unbothered.

You lean over Pure Vanilla’s desk, chin resting on your hands, batting your lashes at him. “You work so hard, you know… It’s kind of cute.”

His quill pauses for just a second—but he hums, unbothered, and continues writing. “That’s very sweet, dear. But I do need to finish this.”

Oh, so that’s how it is?

Undeterred, you shift over to Shadow Milk, draping yourself onto the arm of his chair with a dramatic little huff. “And you, always scheming… Can’t you spare a moment for little old me?”

For a moment, nothing. Then, slowly, he glances at you from the corner of his eye, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips.

There it is.

But instead of indulging you, he only grins and flicks your forehead. “Pft, needy today, are we? You’ll live, sugarplum. Go entertain yourself.” His tone is dismissive, patronizing, and worst of all? He goes right back to his script as if you’re nothing more than a passing thought.

Fine you'll just have to up the ante.

You start with Pure Vanilla. If sweet, subtle teasing won’t work, then you’ll have to be bolder. With a soft hum, you slip around his desk and settle yourself onto his lap, arms draping loosely around his neck. He stills beneath you, but he doesn’t push you away. Encouraging.

Leaning in, your lips just barely graze the shell of his ear as you sigh, voice dripping with honeyed mischief. “Oh, Vanilla, won’t you let me take care of you for once?”

His grip on the quill tightens, knuckles paling, and oh, that reaction is delicious. You feel him exhale, slow and measured, as if trying to maintain his composure. Shadow Milk watches from his lounge, barely containing his glee as Pure Vanilla, in all his gentle righteousness, levels you with a soft but pointed scolding. “You shouldn’t tease unless you’re prepared for the consequences, love.”

Ooh, how prim and proper. How very Pure Vanilla. It’s enough to make Shadow Milk chuckle under his breath, shaking his head in amusement.

“Pft—oh, that’s rich.” He mutters, barely audible, like he’s talking to himself rather than him His lips curl, eyes dancing with unspoken laughter, savoring the sight of Pure Vanilla trying to keep his composure as you toy with him.

But then… something shifts.

You’re still focused on Pure Vanilla, still leaning into him, batting those lashes so sweetly. Your hands are lingering on his robes, your words soft, playful, meant only for him. And Shadow Milk isn’t included in the fun anymore. That’s when the amusement fades just a little, that grin twitching at the edges. You haven’t even looked at him in the past minute or so.

What—suddenly he’s not interesting enough for you?

His fingers tap against the armrest, slow, deliberate. His head tilts as he watches, that glint in his mismatched eyes sharpening into something… calculating. His lips part, but he doesn’t say anything yet—no, he’s waiting, watching, like a cat stalking prey. But then he sees a glance thrown at him from the corner of your eye.

oh?

Shadow Milk’s realization dawns slowly, but once it hits, oh, he doesn’t like being second place—not to anyone. His fingers twitch against the armrest, his grin stretches a little wider, but something sharper gleams behind it.

You don’t even notice at first, too caught up in draping yourself over Pure Vanilla’s shoulders, your fingers ghosting along the delicate embroidery of his robes. Vanilla sighs, ever patient, but his hand gently presses against your wrist in a silent reprimand.

“Darling,” he murmurs, warm as ever but with that slight chiding tone. “You’re being quite bold today.”

“Oh, but do you mind?” you purr, tilting your head with a teasing smile.

And then—

Yank.

The world tilts for a second as hands suddenly grab you—one hooked under your arm, the other slinking around your waist. You let out a startled sound as you’re lifted clean off of Pure Vanilla, unceremoniously plucked from his lap like a misbehaving kitten.

“What the—?!”

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Shadow Milk drawls, amusement thick in his voice as he swings you away effortlessly. Before you can even process what’s happening, he drops himself onto a chair right beside Pure Vanilla’s desk, pulling you onto his lap in one fluid motion. His arms cage around you, loose yet possessive, mismatched eyes flashing with smug satisfaction.

“Stealing all the attention today, huh?” His lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans in, grinning. “Tsk, tsk. Selfish little thing.”

Pure Vanilla, ever composed, merely sighs, but there’s something knowing in the way he watches the two of you now.

Shadow Milk chuckles, chin propped against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. “Go on, flirt all you want, dear. You have our attention now.”

why did this take so long for me to complete? I ended up taking a fat nap in the middle of writing it, this had to have taken me 4 hours altogether. whew. Also, what do you guys think of me creating a master list? I was thinking of it but I don't know because I don't create long fics and these are all spur-of-the-moment writings.

#shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk x reader #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla cookie x reader #pure vanilla x reader #crk x reader

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eclipixels · 4 months ago

Text

Meanie

Rafayel x Reader

Content: Rafayel's brattiness goes a little too far and he makes you cry

[2,026 words]

It had been one of those days, the kind that felt cursed from the moment you opened your eyes. The kind where every little thing seemed to pile on top of the last, weighing you down until the smallest inconvenience felt like the final straw. And as if the universe hadn’t already decided to test your patience, Rafayel had spent the entire day being an absolute brat.

It had started first thing in the morning, before you’d even had the chance to fully wake up. You’d stirred from sleep, groggy and aching, only to realize that you were freezing. Confused, you reached down and found nothing but the thin sheet clinging to the edge of the bed. The thick comforter, the one that had been keeping you warm all night, was completely wrapped around Rafayel, who was snuggled up in a cocoon of stolen warmth.

You shifted closer, nudging him lightly in an attempt to reclaim even a small corner of the blanket. “Raf, share the blanket.” you mumbled, your voice heavy with sleep.

All you got in response was a low groan, followed by him rolling even further away from you, tightening the comforter around himself like it was a suit of armor. Then, with the kind of sleepy arrogance only he could manage, he muttered, “Figure it out, princess.”

Your eye twitched.

Unbeknownst to you, this was his dumb way of wanting you to cuddle him. He assumed you'd snuggle him for warmth.

Biting back a grumble, you decided to let it go. Maybe he was just half-asleep and unaware of what he was doing. Maybe he’d share once he woke up properly. Maybe—

Nope. The second you tried to tug the blanket back, Rafayel let out the most exaggerated, drawn-out sigh, like you were personally ruining his entire morning. Then, instead of being a decent human being and sharing, he grabbed your pillow and placed it over his face with a dramatic huff.

Fine. Whatever. It was probably a good time to get out of bed right now anyway.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shivered against the cold air and forced yourself toward the bathroom to do your usual routine. That’s when you realized you got your period. Great. Just great. The dull ache in your lower stomach had begun, and each step sent an uncomfortable throb through your body.

You headed to the kitchen in search of your favorite tea, knowing it would help. Just the thought of it eased your tension slightly. But as you arrived, the familiar aroma already filled the air. Standing at the counter was Rafayel, cup in hand, his lips curling around the rim as he took a slow, satisfied sip.

Are you serious right neow. Bruh.

“Please tell me that’s not the last of my tea.” you started cautiously, eyes darting toward the empty tea box on the counter.

“Yeah,” he blinked at you, then, with zero remorse, he shrugged. “I can have Thomas get you some more.”

You took a deep breath. Counted to three. Reminded yourself that murder was illegal.

He wasn’t trying to be cruel. He was just being Rafayel. A walking headache disguised as a very pretty boy.

Fine. You’d handle it. You’d push through. You’d make do with coffee instead. It wasn’t what you wanted, but at least it was warm.

You thought maybe, just maybe, that would be the end of his antics for the day. But no. Oh, no. He was just getting started.

He spent the rest of the morning flicking the strings of your hoodie whenever he walked past, tugging at them just enough to be annoying. He poked you randomly for no reason and whined when you wouldn’t share your ice cream with him. When you had finally settled onto the couch to distract yourself with a movie, he’d waltzed in and changed the damn thing right as the plot was getting good. And when you glared at him, he just shrugged and said, “It’s not my fault you have bad taste in movies.”

For the record, your taste in movies was excellent. He was just an insufferable little gremlin.

You tried, really, really tried, to brush it off. To let it slide. Because normally, this kind of thing didn’t bother you that much. Normally, his teasing was something you could handle, even enjoy in small doses. But today was different. Today, your body hurt, your patience was thin, and everything felt heavier than it should.

And then came the final straw.

You had spent the entire afternoon resisting the urge to snap at him, telling yourself that he’d get bored eventually. That he’d stop pushing your buttons and go back to being tolerable. But then, when you were sitting at the dining table, desperately needing just one tiny moment of kindness, you spotted it—Rafayel’s favorite raspberry cream puffs. A fresh, buttery, flaky piece of heaven, sitting untouched with a sticky note of his name.

You hesitated before asking. He’d already gotten on your last nerve,so maybe he’d take pity on you this once.

“Raf,” you started, careful, cautious. “Can I have a bite?”

He glanced at you, then at the pastry.

For a moment, you thought he might actually say yes. His fingers drummed against the table, and he seemed to be weighing the question in his head. But then, right when hope sparked in your chest, he picked up the pastry, raised it to his lips, and took the biggest, most exaggerated bite humanly possible.

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief.

And that was it. That was the moment your already fragile patience snapped like an overstretched rubber band. You didn’t even have it in you to argue. Instead, you felt your throat tighten, hot frustration prickling behind your eyes before you could stop it.

It wasn’t even just about Rafayel; everything felt overwhelming, and all you wanted was for him to be sweet to you today. The weight of the day had pressed down on you like an unbearable blanket, suffocating in its intensity. It wasn’t just the cramps or the discomfort; it was everything. The hormones, the exhaustion, the world itself feeling just a little too sharp around the edges. And yet, Rafayel had spent most of the day being bratty, teasing, occasionally infuriating in that way only he could be.

Tears streamed down your face as you froze.

“Baby…” Rafayel’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, softer now, tinged with something almost hesitant. “Are you crying?”

You turned away from him, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling, but it was pointless. He tried stepping towards you but you stopped him.

“Go away,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

The words weren’t just a request; they carried weight, a command laced with the bond you shared. Rafayel felt it immediately. His chest lit up with the warmth of it, the magic forcing him still, locking him in place as though the universe itself had pressed pause. His lips parted slightly, caught between protest and realization.

And then, as if the pieces of a puzzle had finally clicked together, understanding dawned in his sharp sunset eyes. He had felt something all day, an ache lingering at the edges of his awareness, but he had brushed it off. As a sea god, human pain wasn’t the most agonizing thing in the world to him. He could experience it, but it never debilitated him. So, he hadn’t paid much attention to the dull cramps, the underlying discomfort. But now, as he took in your curled-up form, your teary eyes, the way you refused to even look at him—he felt dumb. Of course. You were on your period. And he didn’t do a single thing to help you feel better.

He got so wound up in wanting your attention that he didn’t realize how miserable his attempts were making you.

“Do you hate me?” Your voice was small, fragile in a way that twisted something inside him. He hated that you even felt like you had to ask.

“Of course not,” he said, voice rougher than he intended, thick with something unspoken.

“Then why were you being such a meanie?”

That nearly made him laugh, but the sniffle that followed kept him firmly grounded in reality. He let out a slow, heavy breath, dragging a hand through his lilac hair as guilt settled deep in his bones.

“I’m so sorry, cutie. I just wanted your attention.”

You didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, he thought you were going to push him away again. But you didn’t. And in Rafayel’s mind, that was progress. Carefully, as if waiting for you to stop him, he reached out and wrapped his arms around you. His grip was firm but gentle, protective without being suffocating. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured against your hair. “Whatever you want.”

At that, you finally peeked up at him, lashes damp. A spark of mischief danced in your eyes, and your lips curled into the beginnings of a smile.

“Anything?”

Rafayel nodded, unwavering. “Anything.”

And that was how he found himself being dragged around for an entire day of doting on you.

The moment the words left his mouth, you wasted no time in taking full advantage of his promise. First, it was bubble tea. Not just one, but three different flavors because, in his words, you needed options. Rafayel handed over his black card, watching as you delightedly picked your favorites.

Then came the hoodie situation. You wanted those fluffy weighted ones. He ordered five because why not? Not just that, he got you a few dresses and accessories too. Of course, they had to be designers, because if he was going to spoil you, he was going to do it properly.

Your cramps were still bad? No problem. Rafayel ran you a hot bath, complete with rose petals because apparently, a ‘normal bath’ wasn’t enough. He even adjusted the water temperature to be exactly how you liked it, using his evol abilities to keep it warm for as long as you wanted.

He acted as though all of this was some grand inconvenience, sighing heavily every time you asked for something new, dramatically rolling his eyes, but the twinkle in them never dimmed.

When you asked him to get you a heating pad, he gave you an offended look. Why were you asking for a heating pad? He was right there? He pressed his palms against your lower abdomen and you felt it start to warm to the perfect temperature.

While you scrolled through your phone, he sighed. His fingers absently traced circles against your side as he did. “I have become a mere object for your convenience.”

You grinned, completely unfazed. “Correct.”

At one point, when you asked him to bring you snacks in the middle of the night, he left and came back with an entire grocery bag full of your favorites.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered, setting it beside you with a huff.

You beamed up at him, eyes full of mischief. “I am lucky.” To emphasize your point, you popped a piece of chocolate into your mouth, chewing happily as if you hadn’t been crying just hours ago.

Rafayel squinted at you, suspicion written all over his face. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

You shrugged, feigning innocence.

He sighed heavily. so dramatically, as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. Then, with zero warning, he threw himself onto the bed on top of you, arm draped across his forehead like he was in some kind of tragic play. “This is karma, isn’t it?”

You hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider. “Maybe.”

But the truth is, he didn’t mind. Not one bit. Because seeing you go from overwhelmed and teary-eyed to giggling and carefree—seeing you feel loved, taken care of—was worth every second. If spoiling you until he was broke meant you’d smile like this, he’d do it a hundred times over.

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