#he loves X 'at that point in time' and it's true and deep and then he has to walk out the door and kill someone and that's not a man who-

[kurumiumiu]

HUH? – sakusa x reader

she/her!reader, inspired by this song with a funny twist, i love jealous!sakusa

thinking about how sakusa notices you’ve changed.

and he does not like it.

not. a. bit.

you being part of the msby team (corporately, of course) meant always being surrounded by people mostly, sakusa thinks, pretty unimportant to you. but important on a business level nonetheless. he knew that on certain level even, you didn’t like all the attention (as you’ve once confided him) and still you make great efforts for the team to succeed.

you were an overachiever after all, just like him.

then why the hell did your boss thought it was a good idea for you to be with him all the time?

the msby jackals gym starts to get louder, as the team is already warming up for the next game of the season against the ejp raijins. there he founds you, gorgeous as ever in the front row (he’d like to pretend you were there like all the other girlfriends of the team even if you both were nothing yet and your job literally demanded you to be sit there) with not your usual game day outfit. instead being replaced with a beautiful black long sleeved dress, flowy as your personality, and jewelry and an updo he could not just ignore.

he scoffs.

“do you think one of these days he’d actually murder him?” atsumu asks hinata, stretching on the floor while he looked at a really irritated sakusa.

sakusa groans and sends both of them a scary glare.

“i didn’t even answer!” hinata claimed offended he somehow got glared at too “omi-san, i don’t think they both are doing… whatever your head is imagining. he’s only been here for a couple months” he finished trying to cheer him up, searching for bokuto with his eyes for moral support.

the thing is that was absolutely true, he has only been here for months. and ever since that little assistant of yours started working in msby, you’ve had completely changed. and what killed him was the fact that you changed for the better.

you quickly spot him and give a little wave, followed by a very gentle “good luck” and a quiet smile.

he’d noticed, of course he had. how you stopped repeating the same outfit you used to wear whenever you had to go to the office —those rare occasions sakusa and the team could spend a bit more time with you— how out of nowhere, you looked more elegant, more put together. he already thought you were stunning with minimal effort, but seeing you with more structured outfits and just a tad more of make up really left him speechless.

he’d also noticed how you talked more, how that shy self you once shared you were trying to overcome slowly disappeared even if it was just at work. the accesories, the shoes, you way of walking and even your coffee order changed ever since he arrived.

he tried to smile back at you as he walked to his starting position, seriously considering the new option atsumu had proposed.

“even if they did” he starts, voice way to deep and sighing “it’s none of my concern”

as the whistle blows and the gym roars, his teammates get way even more frustrated but still compassionate since they knew kiyoomi sakusa was not a man of many words, and that was pretty stupid to confront his feelings.

sakusa had jealous moments before, he knows how to control himself specially when he was at a proper game. in fact, he has realized the anger worked as fuel for stamina. he’d look back at you every few minutes, not intentionally, his head getting more and more intense. his little spiral started to grow, putting him closer to a great performance.

“sakusa” he thinks he heard miya.

ace point.

“omi-kun” hinata tried while digging into a save.

your assistant, leaning closer.

“sakusa-san” was it his coach?

his lips really close to your ear.

still-

“OH MY GOD” your assistant immediately stood up as a volleyball landed just in front of him, making him quickly back off from you.

sakusa grinned mockingly.

“my bad”

still you definitely knew his aim had always been too precise. and he never fails. you give him a frown look and he immediately stops smiling.

“now what was that?” you caught him off guard, leaning in the doorframe of the locker room with you arms crossed. he jumped out of surprise. you looked expressionless as you sometimes did, which always gave him headaches trying to figure out what was happening in your mind.

he grabbed his bag “none of your concern” he freezes midstep, was that too harsh? he knows maybe it was when he hears you sigh.

“why do i get the feeling you don’t particularly like kentaro-kun?” you ask, he feels a sting in his chest.

“already on first name basis, he must be special” he tries to make it sound like he’s laughing at you, just so you don’t get suspicious. “he is my assistant, i should be nice to him” you reply, laughing.

“well then” he says, holding back.

“i think you’d get along, really” were you blind?

“hard pass”

“and why?” you ponder “he’s your assistant, why should i coexist with him?”

“just… exposure”

“to what? his stupidity?”

“he’s actually really smart”

“really?”

“yeah, he figured out you were in love with me and all”

“he is just stup- huh?” his heart stops, you break into laughter.

“you are not denying it” you tease

suddenly a figure appears from the sides of the door, he who had being waiting outside next to you hidden well enough so kiyoomi couldn’t spot him. you raise your hand in a gentle motion and a 10,000 yen bill falls on it, specially draw from his wallet.

he looks at sakusa, annoyed. “seriously man, i give her all this transformation for you to finally confess and it takes me to finally break in? pathetic.” he groans as he gazes to you, in desperation. and before sakusa can say other thing you just casually say as if it were nothing:

“so, tonight or tomorrow for our first date?”

his eye twitches.

[starry-slithers]

Hi so this is a quick snippet of Love on Track just to get you guys hooked!

Dear Diary:

Trees, trees, more trees, a field, more trees…mum wanted me to document everything as I see it, starting with the train ride. It’s fairly deserted in my carriage, most people are here on holiday. They’re obviously from the city and found it exciting to have a countryside get away. Y’know, THOSE kind of people. They’re all in the front two carriages getting a train ride tour. Not that there’s much to show. The occasional lake or farm ground, noting special. But even so, Bluebell Railways are quite famous.

There’s a pretty dark blonde haired girl sat in front of me reading ‘The Great Gatsby’, but sunlight filters at just the right angle for it to be considered ‘main character-esque’. The man next to her, who I presume is her boyfriend, looks like a hobo and he’s been sulking the whole time.

I know we’re getting close to the station now considering the ever growingly frequent amount of cottages. I had to admit- thatched roofs, chickens running amok and the scent of hay did give a rather rustic feel. Maybe this would be good for me after all. Currently disembarking the train. There’s a pretty daisy patch. Note to self: press one in later.

Write soon

Love from Phoebe x

~*~

As I stepped into the station, I was struck by how this place seemed almost frozen in time. As if I’d accidentally walked into another era.

They didn’t have any modern ticket machines- I guess it would ruin the vibe and the way it’s been almost perfectly preserved. So people were lining up at a ticket counter. It was full of either men in their 80’s or instagram ready 40 year old women. The latter were gushing about the ‘countryside lifestyle’ while the former grumbled and purchased newspapers.

The line was taking forever. I should’ve been like the girl on the train and had a book on hand. My books were buried in my suitcase, which I didn’t want to start unpacking.

A deep sigh left my lips as I fumbled around in my cardigan pockets for a mint or something. Dad said this was a strictly no phone holiday- thought it would be good for my mental health, just like this trip.

That would probably prove true. Not the ‘no phones’ part. I mean, how else would I be able to check for updates on The Hive involving my favourite WIP’s? But I figured this whole trip would be good for me.

Ever since I was little, I loved visiting Grandma Susan. In a weird way I could breathe easier. But that sounds super corny. There was just something about the animals and the peace…it was safe. But this was the first time I was going alone, and it was also the first time I’d taken the train here- me and my parents normally drove here in dad’s beat up ford.

Why was the line taking so long? I peeked my head over everyone’s head. There was an old man who had misplaced his ticket, and instead of stepping back and letting others go first, he insisted that he ‘had it’ and he’d ’only take a minute’.

That’s it. I’d had enough. There was a boy sitting alone. He was in uniform but not the new uniform. The old one. I’d seen photos on the corkboard of people in that uniform from the war. Maybe he was just dressing up to add a touch of character to the historical guides. Either way, he was an employee- and wasn’t doing much as he was fiddling with a daisy from outside and just sat down.

“Excuse me?” He didn’t even look up. “Urm- Excuse me?” I repeated again, making sure he knew I was talking to him. He looked up, almost startled.

“Sorry to bother you but do you know where I can buy a brochure or something?” He was totally gobsmacked, as if someone hadn’t asked him for help in ages. On closer inspection, he looked almost my age- maybe 15, or 16. His name tag read ‘Arthur’. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off me as he pointed to the leaflets. He was kinda odd.

“Thank you Arthur.” I smiled before going to buy one. I could’ve sworn I saw him pinching himself. Weird kid. Everyone else in the station was ignoring him so maybe nobody had asked him for help in a long while.

[saveahorsrideacowboy]

Say it in French (Polnareff x Reader 18+)

Summary: With the crusaders' journey coming to an end, you realize that tonight may be your last opportunity to tell Polnareff how you truly feel.

Tags: Jean Pierre Polnareff, Smut, Cunnilingus, AFAB Reader, Slight angst, Cum Eating, Hand Job, fingering, P in V, begging, Slight Edging, Unprotected Sex, Praise

Words: 4.1k

This was going to be your last night in Cairo; or at least you hoped it would be. Your fellow crusaders had finally found Dio’s hideout and were going to confront him come the next morning. You felt a nervousness bubbling up in your stomach, wondering if you would survive to see the next sunset. You looked out on the beautiful sunset before you, hands resting on the railing of your hotel balcony. Finally being able to welter in the quiet you so desperately needed, you sighed.

In the midst of your sentiments, you heard the door to your hotel room creak open. Your roommate must’ve returned. You turn, teary-eyed to see the Frenchman standing at the door, staring right back at you. You and Polnareff had grown close on this trip, practically inseparable. Though this was true, it seemed purely platonic. You wanted more, but feared the complication; and as of late, you’ve found yourself having to avoid him, not able to mask how badly you wanted to complicate your relationship with him.

There was no denying that he was hot. Painfully so.. You hoped deep down that he felt the same lust you had been harboring for him all this time, but it seemed as though the time was never right to admit your love for the man. Your own overthinking had sabotaged every chance you may have gotten. What if he has a girlfriend back in France? A wife even? Just the thought was incredibly disheartening. 

You had sometimes wondered what would become of you two once this was all over. If you two were to make it out alive, that is. You couldn’t help but question if he wondered the same thing, were you in his thoughts when he imagined his future the same way he’s in yours?

Polnareff walks over, opening the sliding glass door and giving you a kind smile.

”Coucou. May I join you?”

You nod, sniffling and quickly wiping the tears forming in your eyes. You were embarrassed of your fear, everyone else seemed so… Ready. You wondered if they were content with the idea of dying, or were so confident that they somehow knew they wouldn’t. Safe to say, you didn’t have that same self assurance.

Polnareff approaches the ledge, hands resting on the fencing as he leaned his body weight against it, turning his head to look you in the eye. Though you tried to avoid eye contact, there was no denying that he could see right through you.

You sighed, voice riddled with melancholy. ”Polnareff…” You paused for a moment, taking your time to think about what you wanted to say.

”Are you scared?”

He averted his eyes from you for just a moment, letting out a deep exhale. 

“Yeah.. in a way. C’est la vie.”

He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one and placing it into his mouth. The admission from him leaves you feeling bittersweet. It was nice to know he felt the same way, but somewhere inside you wished he was also as stupidly self assured as these other men were. You couldn’t accept the idea of him dying, and didn’t want to think that he may be accepting it either.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you scoffed.  “I wish you took the time to teach me French at some point.” You weren’t joking.

He simply smirked, offering up a small laugh and not much else. You closed your eyes for a moment, internally cursing yourself for asking him something so personal prior. Partially cursing him too, for giving you nothing to work with here. You pondered to yourself the reason; was he just looking for peace and quiet? Or was he being riddled with the same anxiety resting deep in your core?

Leaning back and perching your elbows on the cold metal, you pivoted to look at him with a smirk. “What are you gonna do after all this?” Though after the previous awkwardness, you didn't expect much of a response from him, you had secretly hoped he would say that he would whisk you away with him to France. Though it was a childish thought, you just wanted to hear that he felt this spark between you two as well.

Polnareff turned, partially emulating you as he leaned his back against the railing, one arm perched on the balcony while the other held his lit cigarette. He looked at you, the tension lifted ever so slightly with the question.

He finally spoke. ”I’ll probably return to France. Start a life of my own. A new one that I can be proud of. Vous savez?”

You couldn’t hide the slight disappointment in your features, not hearing the words you had been longing to have hit your ear since you met Polnareff. You went to speak, but was cut off when he continued.

”What about you, cherie? What’s your plan?” Your face flushed a bit. You loved it when he called you that.

You take a moment to think before responding. “I don’t know. Go home, get married, do all the life stuff.” You were aware your answer didn’t seem confident, you weren’t sure you could’ve mustered up something better if you tried. Polnareff laughs for a moment, finding your lack of conviction relatable in a way. It’s hard to want to plan your future when it may only include the next day.

A dead silence filled the air, the only noise heard by you being the beating of your heart. The lifelessness in the air disturbed you, reminding you once again of the impending doom building within you. You looked at him, attempting to memorize every curve of his face. You couldn’t help but think that this could be the last time you’d ever get a clear look at the man.

You’re not sure how to classify it, but something about the softness in his eyes; the understanding you felt finally afforded to you for the first time in fifty days. It brings a tear to your eye, a single moment of relief washing over you as the knot in your stomach breaks; releasing every pent up emotion you harbored.

He looks over, almost surprised in a way. “Is everything okay?” Softly pushing himself off the railing, he moves himself directly ahead of you.

You stand up straight, looking up at him. His face makes the lump hang heavier in your throat. You choke up as you try your best to get your words out.

”What if this is the last opportunity we get? The last time we get to do… this?” 

Your own words give you realization. Maybe this is the last opportunity you’ll have to tell him the truth. The last time you can share a tender moment with him. You weren’t sure you could give that up. 

You take a moment, nervousness coursing through you, though outweighed by your love for the man in front of you. You get on your toes, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in to kiss you. 

He doesn’t return the kiss at first. You immediately feel the overwhelming rejection and force yourself away. The new distance between your lips, although being just an inch, felt as if it extended a mile. As you begin taking your arms off of him, he grabs your hand, bringing it up to his face and whispering,

“No.. Attendez. Wait.” He pulls you back in and kisses you deeply, wasting no time intertwining his tongue with yours. Of course he went straight into a French kiss.

The taste of his red wine from the dinner prior crowded your mouth.

He smelled of cigarettes that clashed with the foreign cologne enveloped around his body; though off-putting on anyone else, on him it felt warm. Familiar. 

His musk drove you crazy. You could only whimper as the kiss deepened, allowing him to take full control and guide your tongue. The embrace is sloppy and passionate, and it seems like he can’t get enough of you. He lowers himself, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he picks you up with ease, maintaining the kiss as he does so You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you inside, barely opening the sliding door before placing you on the bed.

He lets you go for a moment, a trail of spit connecting you until he stands up fully. 

As he began to shed his shirt, your gaze swept over his body, noticing the trail of white hair leading down his pelvis. You clenched your thighs, knowing what was awaiting you underneath his now strained pants. He was fucking huge and it drove you mad. 

His body was better than you could’ve dreamed. You craved to take your time, to feel every muscle lining his chest. You longed to know where he liked to be touched, how he liked it, you wanted to know what made him tick.

You make eye contact with him as he stares at you for a moment, a fleeting second of understanding between the two of you as you push yourself back, leaving him room to climb over you on the bed.

He sets his knees on the bed, resting between your thighs as you quickly wrap your legs around him, pulling him back down as your lips reconnect. There is a newfound gentleness to his movements. He groans as his lips move slowly in unison with yours as if to savor every second.

No matter how tight you held him, or how deeply you kissed him, you couldn’t shake the yearning in your heart to become closer, to become one. Though this was your dream ever since you joined the men on this journey, there was still a longing you felt in your core as your stomach formed a deep-seated pit that weighed your entire body down. Something about this moment felt too final like the end of the chapter instead of the beginning.

You broke the kiss, looking up at him as tears streamed down your face.

“Please.. I need you.”

Taken aback by your boldness, he quickly begins undoing his belt, slowly moving to shed the bottom half of his clothing. You take off your bra, having no reservations about showing yourself to him. Normally you would’ve done anything to elongate the moment, but you felt a sense of urgency that couldn’t be helped. You felt as if this could all be over in the blink of an eye, and you weren’t ready.

“Tu veux voir ma bite?” 

You furrowed your brows, immediately taken out of the moment. “Huh?” With your limited knowledge of French, you tried to piece together whatever Polnareff just said to you. You knew that tu veux voir translated to ‘you want to see,’ and that ma meant ‘my.’ Surely he didn’t mean…

He laughed. “Desole. How do you say, um… cock?”

You gasped, a pale red flourishing across your cheeks. You were speechless, although you weren’t surprised he was cracking jokes. Before you could respond, he had already started to pull his pants down. 

Polnareff couldn’t wait. He lunged rapaciously to slip off your shorts.

He lowered his tight boxers, letting his dick spring out. It was big; way bigger than you imagined it would be. The tip of it was already glazed with precum, some dripping onto your stomach as it hung over you. He was well-trimmed at the base, and it looked like the carpets matched the drapes.

You stared in anticipation, waiting for him to do or even say something. Looking back up to him, you swallowed.

His eyes met yours. “Do you have un preservatif? A condom?”

You bit your lip. “No preservatif.” You decided now was the best time to use your small vocabulary of French. “Dénudé, s'il te plait.”

Your response made him groan passionately. Looks like those mini French lessons were finally paying off. 

He wasted no time angling the end of his girthy cock at your entrance and lowering himself onto you. Your thighs quivered as his tip rubbed your cunt, making you whine as it swelled. He cradled the side of your head in his hand, making eye contact with you.

“Ma cherie.. Where have you been all my life?”

He had started to slowly insert his member. At the same time, he worked his way around your neck with messy kisses. In a gentle rocking motion, he thrusted in and out of you. The dichotomy of his tender character and rough way of fucking was captivating, as weird as it was.

Polnareff’s dick was enormous. If seeing it wasn’t enough, feeling it confirmed it. You yelped each time he drove into you, as the sheen of your discharge on his cock cultivated the more he delved in you. The force of him heaving into you shook you around on the bed, leading you to run your hands through his hair and grasp at his roots for more support.

“Haah... please..” You could only utter so much in your exasperation. You just knew you needed more. Although he continued to work his way in and out of you, he paused his kisses and put his mouth directly to your ear.

“En français.” 

His voice lowered itself to a sultry whisper that gave you shivers all over. At this point you were dazed, and your mind was scrambled just as much as your guts were. “Repeat after me. Veuillez donnez-moi plus.”

Was he really trying to give you a lesson on French in the middle of you two having sex? It was either you getting screwed so well or his charm that convinced you to go along with it.

“Veuillez…  donnez-moi plus..”

Polnareff purred straightway into your ear. “Good pronunciation. Tres bien, cherie.” You could feel his cock growing harder and your pussy getting stretched further. You moaned in contentment as your tepid legs gave out to his disordered thrusts; you could feel yourself coming undone.

 Your yelps only gave him more motivation to continue, as he had taken notice of your exhaustion and sneered, working his way into you with even more rigor. The only way you could communicate to him was through wearied moans as your body grew sore. “I’m close..”

“Say it in French. Repeat after me; je suis proche.”

Your hole was dripping at this point, and the further he loaded you up, the harder it was for you to hold on. You struggled to recite the phrase as you panted uncontrollably. “Je... Je suis proche..”

He backed away from your ear to face you again, slowing his thrusts to talk to you. “Quoi? I don’t think I heard you, ma douce.” He narrowed his eyes as his lips curled into a smile. You felt him pull out of you completely, the feeling of emptiness making you whimper before he filled you back up, plugging your hole with his thick fingers.

“I said I was about to come-” You were quickly cut off as he curled his fingers in you, coercing you to yelp.

“Pourquoi ne me supplies-tu pas?”

It was obvious he was trying to tease you. Since you were still very unfamiliar with French, you had no idea what he said. You furrowed your brows weakly in your maze, as if to signal for a translation.

Polnareff looked at you disapprovingly, deluded by your lack of understanding. He feigned disappointment and sighed.

“Beg.”

You were going to deny him, not letting him use the power he knew he had over you. Your resolve quickly shattered when his fingers hit a sweet spot inside of you, only to quickly withdraw when he heard you gasp. 

“W-wait! Don’t stop!” You cried out.

Polnareff looks at you with a smirk, he’s obviously very proud of himself. “You know what to do. If you don’t want this, we can stop right now.” As if to punctuate the sentence, you felt his fingers teasing your entrance, barely grazing over your clit.

You arched into his hand to no avail. After a moment you swallowed your pride, desperation leaving your mind hazy; you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please...”

You sensed his finger shifting above your cunt, edging you even further. “I don’t think I heard you. Répéter?”

Your weak thighs jerked at his touch, your breath growing shaky in desperation. “Just let me cum already, Jean! Please!”

He groaned in satisfaction at your response. “Ma vie, you are so fucking sexy.”

In one sudden moment, his fingers jolted into you, prompting you to squeal. As he pumped his broad fingers in and out of your pussy, you grasped onto the bed sheets to keep yourself steady.

He suddenly rose, standing up from the bed leaving you empty and wanting. Before you had a moment to complain, you felt his rough hands grab your ankles, pulling you to the edge of the bed. He rested your calves on top of his shoulders, putting him at eye level with your moist sex.

“You know, miel, it’s hard fucking you so passionately. I’m working up an appetite.” He smirked as he got on his knees, impelling you to quake in anticipation.

“Laisse-moi manger ta chatte.”

You watch him closely as he leans in, giving you a tantalizing lick from your opening to your clit. You shudder, your hands instinctually tangling themselves in his hair as you pull him impossibly closer as you try to give yourself the release he has so far denied you. His tongue worked its way inside of you as his lips collided with yours. He was french-kissing your pussy.

Sinking deeper into your pleasure, you whined. He was a messy kisser on both pairs of lips. Each kiss and suck brought you closer to your climax. Your core contracted as you tried your hardest to hold yourself back. His hands worked their way around your body, gripping your sides as if to pressure you to cum faster.

The only way you could communicate was through breathy whispers. “I’m about… I’m about to cum..”

You hit your limit and gave out completely. You felt your pussy flutter as pleasure washed over you. He retracted his tongue from inside you, using it to lick around the edges of your hole. 

He gets up, moving to get back on top of you. As he rises, you partially sit up as well, sharing a messy kiss with him. It felt so good to reunite with his lips again, the familiar taste of cigarettes and red wine meeting in your mouth like before. Just as your hand had begun to reach down towards his cock, you hear a knock at the door. Immediately, you recognize the voices of your comrades outside, Joseph and Avdol.

“Hey we’re headed off to bed.. Just wondering if you guys are good before we hit the hay!” Joseph’s voice rang out.

You quickly disconnect from him, becoming suddenly hyper aware of your own nudity. “Gaah!” You hop up from the bed, throwing him a robe before running into the bathroom in your haste. In his panic, Polnareff slovenly puts the robe on, taking no time to run to the door and answer.

“Quoi? What’s the issue?”

Polnareff looked insane; his hair was a mess and he was sweaty all over. His face was a blushing red. Joseph and Avdol looked at each other in awkward silence, taking note of his disheveled appearance. Avdol turned back to Polnareff and narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Avdol scanned his face, eyeing an odd white substance that dribbled from his mouth down to his chin. “What the hell is that on your mouth?” 

It took Polnareff a moment to realize what he was referring to. His eyes widened as he promptly wiped the ‘matter’ off of his mouth, his mind racing to come up with an excuse.

“YOGURT. I was eating yogurt.”

Joseph pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Why don’t you stop bullshitting and go to bed already? We have a long day ahead of us.” He stuck his head into the room slightly and gazed around. “Where’s your lady-friend, anyway?” He asked teasingly.

There wasn’t much time for Joseph to get a good look before Polnareff had started to force the door closed. “Looks like it’s time for us to sleep! Bonne nuit!” Before Joseph or Avdol could say anything more, the door shut completely.

Polnareff sighed in relief and signaled for you to leave the bathroom. You made your way back to the bed, sitting up against the headboard as you waited for him. You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself after hearing what had happened.

“Yogurt? Really?” You teased, laying down fully on the bed as he slipped off his robe and walked back towards you.

He scoffed as he climbed up onto the bed and kneeled over you. “Chut! As if you could come up with anything better.”

He took your comparatively soft hands and placed them over his huge cock, which dangled over you. He had started to guide your hands up and down his member in a stroking motion.

“Why don’t you tell me what it looks like?”

You came to the realization that he hadn’t ejaculated yet. What a gentleman for letting you finish first. He was already leaking from his tip and onto your breasts, dribbling down to your stomach. You whimpered softly at the warm sensation.

He took his hand off yours, allowing you to take full control. You continued sliding your hands up and down his dick as your pumps grew faster. Polnareff’s breaths grew shaky, as his head reeled back in bliss.

Now it was your turn to tease him. You halted your strokes suddenly, 

In his desperation, he had begun whining. “Non.. don’t stop.”

You looked up at him with jesting eyes, mocking his jeering from before. “Why don’t you beg me? Mendier?”

“Fuck... s'il te plaît..” Polnareff huffed as your grip grew tighter, your fingers staying wrapped around his girth. This only made him fuss more, and his cock grow harder.

 You bit your lip. “Tres bien.” 

Satisfied with his response, you continued jerking him off as his precum lightly coated your fingers; he was nearing his climax. You were growing excited, as your pace accelerated.

After a number of tugs, he groaned, signaling his finish. Before you could react or move, he ejaculated all over your face. You were now covered head-to-waist in his semen, leaving a luster that coated your body. 

Your jaw dropped as you processed what just happened. Looking up to Polnareff, he looked just as shocked as you did.

“Did you seriously just cum on my face?”

He retreated back a bit, knees now resting beside your hips. His face turned a bright red as he started to apologize profusely. “Desole! I didn’t mean to!”

You let out a bothered groan, although you felt bad for sounding so harsh. “Could you just get me a towel?”

Looking up at him expectantly, you noticed he had a mischievous grin splayed across his face. Oh brother.. what could he possibly be thinking of doing next?

“Why don’t I clean up the mess for you, ma cherie?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Isn’t that what I said?”

Before you could reiterate your request, he leaned down toward your face. You were catching on to what he implied..

..as he licked your face. You watched as he descended from your face, licking the remains of his release off of your neck all the way to your chest. He took his sweet time working his tongue around your nipples, coercing soft moans out of you.

You rest your hands on his head softly, guiding him down to clean up your stomach. He finishes cleaning you up, looking at you for a moment. You tighten your grip on his hair, bringing his mouth to yours as you exchange spit, tasting a mix of your own juices and his on your tongue.

He rolls over and rests next to you, letting out a long breath of relief. You look over, resting your leg over his and looking up into his eyes. You see an unfamiliar glint in his eyes, just for a moment. He seems to hesitate as you stare at him expectantly.

You prepare yourself to question him, thinking that he wouldn’t tell you what was on his mind without you coaxing it out of him. But, as though he was reading your mind, he decides to speak, letting out the thought obviously weighing on his mind.

“When all of this is over, I need you to come home with me. To France.”

[divinekangaroo]

I do really like the idea that Alfie and Tommy fucked and had their deep and meaningful connection in a world where Tommy also has all his on-screen deep and meaningful connections. And that they're happening at the same time, not as serial-monogamy. It's satisfyingly messy.

Tommy's intense mental comparmentation of his experiences as well as his transactional framing would certainly lend itself to him getting one thing from Alfie and another thing from Grace or Lizzie, as he does with Jessie, with sex workers, seeing no issue or conflict with how he feels for any of them at any point in time. Because they are not the same and do not intersect and won't even encounter each other in any way.

[pixieswashere]

Even fandom misogyny works harder than the Saja Boys-

I could not care less about jinu

Or the soda-pop song

I saw on twit that the men put in no effort yet most of KPDH fanart or fan engagement is of them or jinu , and when it’s not about them others somehow find a way to include the saja boys,even in ship art ,any of the polytrix or literally anything regarding rumi has to be about jinu,

The movie is not just about romance it’s about community

Here are a couple instances so I don’t look crazy

These are only my beginning thoughts

[tonycries]

JUICY!

Synopsis. The first time the cóndom breaks? Raw, next question.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cóndom tearing, unprotected, creampíes, they’re PÚSSYDRÚNK, breaking furniture, GOJO’S POWERS, first time raw, going feraI, brèeding, proposals, true form Sukuna, dp, manhandIing, full neIsons, headIocks, best friend!Ino, spítting, p talking, p sIapping, they’re big, tummy buIges, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week!

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 10/10

“O-oh.” His gruff baritone echoes out a slight crack - a crack. Toji Fushiguro never lets his voice shake, he never stutters. You gaze over your clammy shoulder in confusion as the knobbly shape of his Adam’s apple bobs dryly, “It…broke.”

Honestly, with Toji’s sheer barreling size, how could that flimsy lil’ rubber not have broken?

Callused fingertips dig ravenously upon either side of your hips, you’re feeling the ends of his curly happy trail scratch your back as he motions to pull out—

“Oh my god, doll. Doll.” Right before scorching panted gasps hit the middle of your spine and he’s moving his sculpted v-line to rut- animalistically. “You- you feel like-” Buck after buck. Groans strangled, eyes half-lidded, one of Toji’s massive palms come slamming down on the rickety headboard. “-th-this?”

“S’alright.” Toji flinches once your pretty voice speaks up, dazed pupils looking anywhere but at your cutely needy expression. “I wan’ it raw, Toji–”

“R-raw?”

You gawk as veins start decorating his flexing forearm, pointed knuckles white where he was gripping onto the bedframe for dear life. It snap-snap-snaps! faintly underneath his strength, “What have I said about talking outta ya haaaah- pussy, mama?”

“To not.” Your lower lip puckers into a pout that makes him gulp, his head shaking slightly in an effort to regain his senses. “But m’not- see?”

CRACK! That mahogany now fully splintered underneath his carnally itching digits, “You’re- oh.”

To prove your point, your knees push firmly against the springy bedcoils and grind backwards in a slooooow figure-eight that makes his bawling tip slurp ‘round your walls. That makes the hulking man bite back handful of raspy whimpers-

Oh. Making the big, bad Toji whimper?

Though, how could he not when the torn ends of the condom were flapping open to let him gift your deepest insides with the slowest, wettest smooch. Every miniature movement making the crowned top of his swollen cockhead splatter out heavy bucketloads of pre that stuck to your cervix in a steaming hot gloss. Slipping n’ sliding.

Toji flinches as he feels your bloated lips struggle to clench around his plump circumference. So soft. So warm. 

“Warm?” Fuck- did he say that out loud? You’re letting your spit-glued mouth curve up into a smile at the way his maw drops with drunken realization. “See? I told you I-”

He cuts you off with a grumble of something that sounds like ‘shaddup.’ And it almost gives you whiplash when, in mere nanoseconds, Toji forces himself to reel back n’ leave your gooey innards squeezing instinctively around nothing - for only the briefest, quickest moment before completely tugging that tattered rubber off of him and sheathing himself silly.

“Can’t- can’t even- fuck! Why does it feel so fuckin’ good-” 

Lazy and savoring every mushy ridge and crevice inside of your wet pussy. 

Your words croon out, “More- more.”

He snickers, though there’s something octaves higher in his tonality - something unsteady. Abs tensing as he slouches over, Toji traps your throat in a headlock and growls, “T-take it then. Take it take it, dammit.”

It was almost ridiculous just how much he was throbbing, leaving your legs weak every time his puffy veins rawly massaged a lil’ ba-dump–! on top of the tenderest spots along your elastic walls. 

“Ngh- To-Tooooji! S’in sooo deep.” You scramble, your body thrashing once a meaty, capped knee pushes up against the base of your spine to make you bend.

“Tha’s it- yeah. Aaaaarch f’me, atta girl.”

“You feel so ngh–” Torrents of sappy saliva dribble out of your mouth and drench the poor pillows see-through, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the swerving crashes of his perfectly spherical crownhead. Over n’ over. “-feels so gooood!”

He was ruthless, pillaging your treasure trove of sensitive spots with bruising batters. Deeper. Deeper.

And you’re so caught up in Toji’s relentless cadence that you almost don’t notice the way his husky breaths grow quieter, something like awe shining in those jade eyes. 

Not until a wet splat! of slobber hits your back, “Fuck. Fuck! N’ you can feel me t-too, huh? You- you can feel me- c-can really feel me. Heh- can feel me fucking you all deep inside, huh?” Honed canines nibble down on your earlobe as you nod, pinning you down with his hefty weight. “Can ya feel every thrust? Every inch? Every vein, mama?”

“Yes- yes yes yes yesss–!” Comes out your garbled answer, tiny sobs hiccuping at the back of your throat at the sheer force of his gyrations. Toji was fucking a bright red branding onto his humidly perspired pelvis in memoir of you. 

“A-always wanted to try something…count them.”

“Wh-what?”

“Count.” It takes a few slimy snogs to your gummy cervix before you’re realizing what he means, the underside of one of his zig-zagging lightning bolts slithering just against your g-spot and making you whine. 

He wanted you counting every winding vein without the condom on.

“O-one.” You’re shrilling out, and Toji was so gone that his glassy irises dilated pure Stygian black. Tendrils of his shaggy bangs tickling the back of your neck, he’s aligning his thick, rock-hard length to rub your sweet walls with two more prominent veins. “Two- hck! three.”

Awe-struck, funneling in great heaving gasps to grunt out, “Ohhh, atta- atta girl. S’that it?”

“No- ngh-” One more vein wrapping underneath the ridge of his slippery slit, two more where his glittery glossed hilt was bulging your entrance wiiiidely agape. And you’re crawling away from the slamming impact of his rummaging strikes. “Six- six!”

“Good giiiirl.”

Leaving you so sappily wet with aroused pre, Toji’s filthy headlock curls tighter around your neck and puuuulls your boneless body further into him.

Practically melting into you. He had you bowed like such a slut, your back glissading down every bumpy ridge of his sweat-dampened abs. You’re counting eight of them in your fuzzy mind before Toji’s calmed his harrowing breaths down enough to spit out, “Don’t run. W-we are going to have soooo much fun, doll.”

And that certainly couldn’t have boded well for your poor pussy.

Because without warning, he slips off a free hand down to cradle the rotund outline on your tummy where his bludgeoning mushroom tip was stirrin’. A thick sensory pad daring to push down–

“Fuh-fuuuuuck—” Toji’s dark brows furrow at the shocks of pressure, biceps bulging once he tightens his lecherous hold on you. You turn to see then that a languid smile rests upon his face as his hips give you a thorough pound, easily pinpointing your g-spot with a beaded few slivers of precum. “N’ when we’re ngh- done…” A soft peck skims across your lips, almost mockingly innocent. “M’gonna hafta buy you about ten Plan Bs.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Princess treatment

“...my w-wife.”

“Yes, Ken–?” You’re cooing in a low, honeyed tone - the exact type that makes your towering husband bite back a primal snarl. Gasping. Heaving. 

Your hands tighten on the fringe of his work desk, splayed out on top of so many documents like a slut. You’re about to ask again before-

“My…wife.” Nanami’s handsome jaw shuts with a sharp click! rasping grunts threatening to escape his stern lips as if he couldn’t even control them. He loosens his silky yellow tie still on, “I-I can’t- oh…my god. M’gonna marry you- m’gonna marry you.” Trying - yearning for some semblance of control before the blushing hot cap of his cockhead skims your slicked entrance once more and he’s shivering all over again, “The- the condom- broke.”

And the way your pretty mouth falls into a sweet oh! only makes that clingy rubber crack open even further, completely useless against the way that his pounding length was endlessly growing. Bigger. Thicker. 

So many copious bloated inches stiffening up until the ridges n’ puffy veins on his cock rip past even the stretchiest condom - your husband grew so big.

Sensually, your hot fluttering insides squeeze around him just once more and it’s enough for Nanami’s forehead to fall into the crook of your neck with a groan. Sweaty blond bangs gluing to your feverish skin, “Don’t- don’t do that, my love- I hafta pull out…hafta- new condom.”

But for every slimy inch that he was squeezing out of your tight pussy, Nanami was stirring in two more. Chasing the slippery smooch of your raw cunt slurping his rummaging length, enough to drive the man mad.

“Well, you don’t have to.” You’re piping up, knees weakening at the way his strawberry divot squelches out an excited lil’ wad of pre at the notion. 

And he’s wasting no time scooping up a clingy hold on your hips, supporting your weight until the globes of your ass were swung almost midair as he pounded you into his frigid desk. “You- you just said–” Guttural, generous lungfuls of air being intaken to help him secure his breath, following every plap after plap after plap. “-you want me to- ohhhh–” 

It’s as if his intelligent mind was clouding over after even a glimpse downwards at the way your raw folds were glossing out such a thick frothing of slick all down his girth. Stuffed to the brim and throbbing as his ringed finger pries apart your glittery folds to see - just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

You’re so wet that it’s splattering everywhere, and he easily slides out the now-useless condom in-between sloppy slams. Muttering to himself as if in disbelief, “Really…really want it raw- fuck!” 

“Ken- mmpf–!”

And just as soon as Nanami’s fully barreling cock sheaths fully rawly inside of you, your husband’s pinning you laid flat on top of the desk - hiccuping, flinching, simply taking a second to let his thick, veiny shaft draaaag around your dripping wet cunt. 

“O-oh.” You’re feeling his meaty thighs kissed behind your own shiver once the dribbling orifice homed on top of his cockhead pushes a deep crater into your spongy cervix. A slurring slew of swears leaves him, gasping. “You– m’really gonna m-marry you, darlin’.”

“Kentooo–” Your hips lurch up n’ down whilst he remains sluggishly unmoving, as if he couldn’t bring himself to unless he wanted to snap. Struggling to push onto your elbows with the way the sheer stretch had you dizzy, it’s like he was impaling you sinfully. “-we a-already married. Fuck- need you to move- please-”

“A-already married?”

In disbelief, his molten eyes flit from the matching wedding rings on your fingers to the way you were adorably whining and begging for his cock.

And he feels his mouth water-

“S-so we’re…married.” Words coming out dry, harsh. But there was something so darkly sexy in his usually-gentle tone that it made your adhesive-like walls clench- “Fuck! Don’t-”

Before you know it - before even Nanami seems to know it - that speckled tie dangling from his neck finds its way wrapped around your wrists, tight. The ends of his thick fingertips holding onto the restraint and tugging you bodily, “Don’t move- don’t you dare– fuuuuck I could cum from just that. I-if you want it raw, you needa hah- behave, my love.”

Honestly, he could’ve cum just from the way your sugary insides were pulsing around him. Just from the way you were so gorgeous underneath him like this.

You’re whimpering, eyes slithering to the dark depths of your head when his mazing divot probes ‘round your tender innards. Tugging on the tie, “Ken- S’sooo good, Ken–”

“Shhhh shh sh, I know I know–” And you swear he seems to grow even bigger at the velvety springs of slick leaking out of you, pulling your walls so taut that you could almost scream. The snaking patterns of his veins dig even further into your sweet spots, thicker. Bigger. 

Fuck- was Nanami getting even harder. Throbbing and throbbing every ounce of blood in his body, his temperature was just as feverish as his pace now that he didn’t have that damn rubber anymore. 

“O-oh…my god.” A shrilling wail seems to break out from your lips, speckles of saliva glossing your chin as they flap stupidly. “You got- you got even b-bigger, Ken–”

His plowing circumference snags on your rubbery hole, and he’s thumbing down between your sleek slick to help himself sink into your pretty cunt. “Lemme do a-all the work my…my wife.” You watch in awe as Nanami’s face breaks out into a dopey, pussydrunk grin at those very words. “My wife- my wife my wife my wife– such a filthy pussy you have.”

“Wh-what if it gets too big-”

With a thunderous bang! one of Nanami’s thick, muscular thighs comes striking on top of the flat plane of the desk.

Angling his stubby mushroom tip to poke the target of your g-spot like a dartboard, his wobbly lips graze your temple with a hum. “Take it- all you h-have to do is take it.” You’re keening with every mercilessly bludgeoning whack planted towards the very back of your pussy, “Follow my finger-”

“H-huh–” Flapping open your heavy, tear-dampened lashes, you’re following the lines that Nanami begins to draw straightly down your tummy.

All the way from the fat of your pussymound n’ up, up, up to where his bottomed-out length was pushing a circular bruise deeply into your cervix. Back and forth. 

“Uuuuup n’ down-”

And it was just as much to make him hold onto his rationality just as much as it was for you, “U-up and down.”

“Yeah? Yeahhhh–?” Nanami coos down at you, the edges of his plump lips twisting into such a sleazy smirk. And right now you were too dumb to even realize if he was pulsating even fatter, “S’not too big hah- now, huh? Look at you taking it like a champ- like my ngh- wife.”

Every uncovered pummel made his body tremble— but the only problem was that he couldn’t stop his foggy glasses from slipping. Hands reaching up to push and push, but he was so pussydrunk that he missed. 

“Kentooo–” His dumbifying pace coaxed a few carnal mewls out of you, shakily nudging your husband’s glasses to their rightful position so that he could gaze greedily down at you. 

The way your back arched off of the now-moistened desk into the perfect curvature, hips rutting–

“Oh.” Nanami’s sudden, harrowed gasp makes you still - almost. Before he’s scrambling a free hand to dangle off of your slamming flesh and manhandle you back into your swervin’ gyrations, genuinely asking. “Y-you’re my wife- but are you the hah- mother of my kids, yet, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Maxxximum

You’re whimpering as soon as Geto’s thickly padded fingertips descend down to your slobbering slit, thumb and index softly caressing it with a coo. “Awww she wants more, pretty pussy—” Before pinching—

“Fuh-fuck–!” Your head throws back and lands directly on top of his sharp collarbone, body writhing in this filthy full nelson he’d manhandled you into. Was pinning you down into- “Suguru- Sugu- don’t care about the condom, just put it iiiin–”

“Oh, you slut.” He’s mocking a hollow breath, curling his left hand ‘round your waist to glissade your back down his sweat-streaked core. Geto’s broad chest vibrates as he tuts, “And after you said that it was ‘t-t-too much–’”

Truly, he was so mean.

And the only thing meaner than Geto was the way he fucked - striking, vicious rams inside your dripping wet pussy that not even a condom could handle. It’d only taken a few merciless pounds into the deepest, goopiest depths of your cunt until he’d torn it clean through.

Needily, you’re edging your squirming hips further down his toned body. Hiccuping at every bumpy ridge of his abs as you inclined closer to the heated, throbbing length between his long legs–

“Whoops- upsy daisy.” He’s muttering smugly to himself as he draaaaags you back up to where you’d been splayed out all prettily, accidentally bucking upwards so that his crowned, cherry-red tip scrapes straight down your pussylips- fuck.

Gasping, rutting– and it’s all that Geto Suguru can do to try and force out a crazed little titter to try and save his cocky act. “W-well.” Throat dry, he’s never been more thankful that your beautiful eyes were too dazed to catch onto his angry blush. “Since you’re sooo desperate, gorgeous- beg.”

“P-please.”

Aligning the silver orb of his Prince Albert’s to give your flooded entrance a welcoming kiss, frigid and sinful. “More. Tell me you wan’ it raw.”

“Please, Sugu–” Your dewy lips flap desperately at the feeling of that metal piercing decorating the tip-top crown of his bloated cockhead, slick with so many numerous layers of glittering pre that splat! splat! splattered! down onto your pussymound. Your widened, shiny eyes turn to him, “J-just want you raw.”

Oh. Geto Suguru hadn’t even stopped to consider this being his first feeling of your cute cunt without a condom before he’s sinking in.

Slow, aching glides just to fit past that tightly ‘rounded entrance of yours and- shit, were you always this fucking tight?

“S-so soft…” He’s breathing out into your ear without realizing, the rounded curve of his ballsack flinching tenderly at the gummy feeling of your walls hugging him. Before he’d even realized, Geto was fucking addicted. 

He was salivating at the feeling of your velvety walls dripping goblets of slick down his veins, long raven lashes fluttering. Almost in disbelief - “So sweet-” And then your sweltering hot insides squeeze and– “So….”

Geto doesn’t even have the words to describe - doesn’t even have the brainpower. 

Only scrambling his tense fingertips urgently down to your pulsating damp clit and pinching- “C’mon- c’mon c’mon c’mon-” Gnawing down on his plush lower lip, “Squeeze me a-again, gorgeous–” 

“O-oh my god…Suguru.” 

Head dazed and heavy, the only thing that gives you some semblance of clearance is the splashing speckles of something wet sprinkling against your cheek. Oozing. And only after lifting your head from the musky nape of Geto’s neck do you realize that he was slobbering. A thin line of spit that hung off of the rosy-pink edges of his lips.

Gasping, “A-are you drooling?”

Fuck- was he? Nose wrinkling in almost-endearing fury, Geto’s nudging your jaw agape to scoop up his excess saliva and spit. Missing.

So dazed right now that he’s splattering about half of the webbed wad beside the unfastened corners of your mouth. A shimmering sheen that he can’t help but crane his head over to kiss away–

“S-so fuckin’ what?” Geto growls from the hoarse back of his throat, punishing your pussy with those signature rude thrusts of his. The ridges of his v-line scratch brandingly into the base of your spine, his thick thighs parting as he bludgeons his achy, sagging cock deeper. “Who’s fuckin’ idea were haaa condoms anyway? Looks so much prettier droolin’ over me l-like this. So much sweeter–”

He was so big that even the tiniest of gyrations had Geto reaching spots you didn’t even know existed, the circular decoration of his piercing acting like a spotlight mazing past every glutinous wall. Striking your g-spot dead on- “S-so much chattier.”

And he wasn’t just talking about those sweetly wailing sobs being torn out of you with every hammering thrust- no. 

Your perfect pussy was just as talkative, even more so now that he was rubberless - every slippery sliiiide slurring out the wettest, loudest songs of squelches that make Geto’s ears burn red.

You’re twistin’ and turning with every slap! of his breeder balls skin-to-skin with the treacly base of your cunt, babbling. “Sugu- fuck- Suguru—”

Tugging on one of his long, inky locks that makes him let out a soft oi! He’s squeezing his prolonged, manicured digits around your clit and draaaagging in return.

Grumbling from behind, “H-honestly- s’that all you know to say?” Though, he doesn’t sound the tiniest bit upset, “Ya can’t talk or you just hah- want her to?” Another pinch on your knobbled clit, another squeeze that makes Geto groan your name like a prayer. Sluuuurping, “Talkative girl- might as well let her make the speeches for the association instead o’ me.”

Hit after precise hit, the globular curve of his tip was spearheading you to the maximum. 

And Geto’s only growing more animalistic, more drunken – bottoming out till his strawberry-flavored orifice digs into your cervix and he’s forced to bite down on your shoulder to keep from whimpering.

“S-speaking of-” The warble in his baritone voice made your heart race, Geto’s bloated cock giving a sultry lil’ ba-dump–! that you feel all the way in your throat. He whispers scratchily into your ear, “I hear the association has a meeting in here soon…”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Hey, emo boy!

“M’gonna put it in now, baby—” Choso’s breezy summer breaths fan your face, and the cute mahogany eyes he looks down at you with are sparkling. “M’gonna…”

Pushing apart your jittery legs with a slow sluuuurp–! emanating from your sap-glued folds, you’re watching with a coo as he furiously fists his angrily swollen cock at simply the sight of you. Hips bucking into his hand, condom stretching with every growing inch he’s filling out–

“S’gonna be a bit of a hngh- stretch.” He’s gulping, and the scent of his vanilla cologne wafts through your senses as Choso slouches in close. So close. An open palm resting on the mound of your pussy, “S’gonna be- oh.”

He’s not just gasping, he’s heaving.

Lurching back his strong hips, Choso’s rosy lips gape at the singular line of glistening slick that connects his bawling divot to your hole. Winking and just as needy as he is.

“Cho– are you okay, baby?”

A full-bodied shiver running viscerally throughout his limbs, your poor boyfriend grits down on the soft insides of his cheek hard enough to taste iron– “Baby–” He’s strangling out through a honeyed syrup watering his tastebuds, “-baby i-it broke.”

Your mouth drops into a perfectly sweet ‘o’ once you’re taking a look downwards for yourself, the sprayed sheen from between your inner thighs smearing against each other as you clench. “Aww, you pulled it too far down, Cho–” And before he can open his mouth with a few desperate apologies, you’re plowing on- “But, I don’t really mind…”

Choso pinches himself once, twice– he pinches himself five times already until his veined forearm was red n’ raw just to make sure that this was real life. 

The very same pinkish flush that was capping the top of his glistening globed tip, streaming out such thick wads of pre that were now beginning to plug up your quivering entrance.

“Choso?”

“Fuh-fuck–!” The fattened pad of his thumb comes collapsing down to cover the sobbing orifice homed at the end of his heavy, throbbing cock. So hard now that his length was beginning to sag n’ spank down on your bloated pussylips with a wettened thwack! “M’sorry- sorry I hafta- or else I’ll cum.”

“I don’t mind.” Ohhhh, Choso had half the mind to plant his ringed fingers over your mouth and make you stop him from losing it. “Wan’ it inside though, baby.”

“I-inside.” Comes out his echoing repetition, hazed peripherals falling to and fro from your needy expression to the way his cherry-red shaft lay sandwiched between your leaking folds.

Ba-dump–! Ba-dump–! Ba-dump–! Right where your perked clit was jolting in carnal tandem with his girth. Fat and aching for but the tiniest touch that it’s almost as if on autopilot that he’s tearing off the rest of that useless condom and letting his sensitive underside sliiiiide–

“O-oh shit.” Choso’s groaning out, half-blindly guiding one of your hands to latch onto his damp locks so that you could pull— stopping himself from throwing his head back because all he wanted to look at was you, you, you.

“Easy there- easy now, Cho.” You hum, the lecherous grin twisting your lips ever-growing once he’s squeezing and squeezing his curvaceous head just past your entrance - sensually. 

Ragged, mindless thrusts that fit his wide length inside - Choso was just so big that only a singular plump inch inside and you’re damn near being driven mad.

And that’s exactly all that it takes - an inch. 

An inch stuffed inside of your velvety, plush cunt before Choso snaps his hips and cums. Over. And over. And over. In thick, saccharine ribbons that dollop down the sides of your channel and stir like a slushy every time he’s swivelin’ his pointed tip into your softest innards. 

“Shit- shit shit shit I can’t believe I-”

“No need to be hngh! shy.”

“But I-”

“I-insiiiide-” Your arms wrap around his neck and crash an open-mouth kiss that he whimpers into, sharpened canines nibbling on your bottom lip like a candied gum. Hollow, rasping breaths every time he’s fucking and fucking his pounding cock. “All- all inside- fuck–”

And then your rubbery ring of muscle snags on one of his slimily scraping veins and tightens– “N-now tha’s just unfair.” He hiccups, dark eyeliner smearing with every gulping sluuuuurp your winking pussy milks out. “-sh-she feels like heaven.”

You’re flinching as one of his sensory tips scrape the milky outer edges of your sloped pussy, puddling a glutinous few cobwebs of seed that he promptly glides across your lips like a staining ivory gloss. Kissing you. 

“So soft. So…warm w-with my cum–” He’s drawling out, feverish forehead hitting yours with a dull thud. Choso’s boring dead-on into your hazily dilated pupils as his orifice constantly pumps out sploshes of sappy cum, “Think m’gonna m-marry her hngh- you. Her. You.”

“You’re too cute, baby–” You’re huffing n’ puffing with every pap! of his humid v-line stinging the base of your dripping cunt.

And Choso might have been sweet, but the way he was fucking you into the mattress was definitely not. Anything but. 

Brows furrowed, nerves on his neck popping, snarling his teeth like an animal— he’s gnawing down on the globes of your shoulder and drilling his swollen length into you like he was crazed. Feral. Your treasure trove of honeyed spots being upturned like never before, even when Choso was bludgeoning his hips back at the recoil you could still feel his probin’ circular bruises.

“Yours–” He’s punctuating his pants with a sharp gust of that particular word, like a mantra. Warm globules of drool and eyeliner seeping into your skin, “Yours yours yours- yours.”

You’re whimpering at the chilling drag of his pierced tongue swabbing down your bottom lip, “H-haaa, baby– cum in me once m-more, m’kaaaay–?”

“P-pinch me.”

With a questioning glint in your gaze, you’re pinching Choso and watching as he all but melts at the pinpricking pain. So he wasn’t dreaming.

Collapsing his hefty bodyweight on top of yours until the bumps of his washboard abs kept on glissadin’ down your front, moaning. “S-so it’s real. It’s real.”

Hiccuping, trembling. 

“M’gonna cum- gonna c-cum alllll for you now, baby—” He’s hissing through gleaming clenched teeth, and something in his voice shakes. Pitches octaves higher, “M’gonna cum- c-cum until you can’t- even- fit- it- and- and in return…”

Pound after pound after pound and yet Choso still finds the time to tenderly cradle your dominant hand and curl it possessively around his neck. Groaning, “-choke me.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - MILKYWAY?!

“Shit- shit, look at the mess you’re making.”

More like the mess that Sukuna himself was making - all in thick, clumpy ribbons of cum that poured from the crevice of your pussylips. It made such a saturated lil’ puddle on his cursed pair of lips, licking and grinning at the way your poor pussy couldn’t keep up with his sheer loads.

And, clearly, those puny human condoms couldn’t either.

“Keh– don’t need this shit anyway.” He’s scattering away the shattered remnants of rubber, holding your pretty hips hovering up in their cute lil’ reverse cowgirl as he watched you driiiiiip–

“R-raw, Kuna?” Your whimpering wails ring over the sultry squelches of his second tongue sliding up n’ down your puffy bloated folds. Every dragging movement of his globular tip making you flinch oh-so-adorably on top of his sculptured hips. “Can you even handle it?”

A thorough spank! on the globes of your ass leaves you whimpering instead, Sukuna’s snickers bellowing out. “Who’d you think yer talking to?”

“W-well if I get pregnant, I want a hngh- daughter though-”

“Tch- daughter or son, you’ll get my hah- heir, brat.” 

Precariously, you’re being jostled on top of him as he slouches back on his royal bed, third and fourth hands thumbing at your soppily glued-together folds and watching as their smeeeear with milky cum. 

A sploshing trail of it follows from the inner parts of Sukuna’s thick thighs to right where his dual raw mushroom tips were swabbing your sloppy entrance. Just the slightest smooch of his feverish, sensitive shaft slits leaves the king hissing– “N’ you’re gonna take it all like a good girl, mama.”

And oh- oh, fuck.

Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t prepared for this.

For the way your velvety folds pry apart and swallow him like your pretty pussy was starving. Rummaging length being bustled deeper n’ deeper, you were so fucking hot inside that he’s fighting not to let his crimson eyes sprint to the back of his head.

“O-oh you’re–” And Sukuna’s gruff baritone cracks; no matter how much he’s clearing his throat, it’s holed with so many voice breaks that you’re turning your head ‘round and smirking.

“Did you just-”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

He’s burning, feverish.

Another stinging slap and a few skitters of cursed energy flow through your body - like the lecherous brush of his bawling, swollen cocks was enough for him to be losing control over his own powers. 

“S-so this is what this pretty lil’ cunt feels like- hah-” With a solid plunge, he’s spearheading those plump, split-ended heads until they mark two fat circles on your sponged cervix. 

Your fluttering folds peck his coral-pink happy trail, tastebuds simmering with what felt like the savory taste of him - bottoming out, and Sukuna finds his devilish eyes fucking welling with tears. Head tumbling back because you were so soft and warm and tight. So, so tight–

“Tight, huh?” Did he even realize he was babbling all this out loud? Your lip-slicked lips struggle not to wobble into a dumbified pout, pupils wandering the whites of your eyes in circles every time his silky girths brushed up against you and each other and you– 

With a grouchy grumble, Sukuna’s planting another solid thwack! of his monstrously large fingertips on your right asscheek - or, at least, he tries to. 

Oh, does he try. 

The roughened plane of his palm coming down - missing. Hips instead bucking upwards with three repeated whacks into the bottom of your pussy, he’s caressing the slurping lips of your bulging cunt instead with an almost whine– “K-know your hck! place, human.”

Almost whining.

The lecherous ends of his second tongue slither around the sheeny insides of your thighs and start to toy lil’ hearts on top of your perked clit. Leaving Sukuna to ram, leaving Sukuna to gasp– “You’re never gettin’ off easy after this- oh, you’re never getting off easy.”

“Wh-what do you…” Your stupidly saliva-filled mouth goes completely dry at the look of complete and utter raw need on his face.

Eyes struggling to bat open, mouth glittery with spit, nostrils flared once he’s punishing the insides of your dripping wet cunt one slam. Two. Three. “Gonna hafta let m f-feel this ngh cute cunt allllll the fuckin’ time now, mama.” He’s croaking out through ragged bursts of breath, latched so deeply on your hips that he was clawing at you now. “Gonna hafta- feel her- breed her.”

“You- you already are–” You’re crying out at the jiggling cylindrical bulge being furiously fucked into your tummy, Sukuna’s barreling lengths pinpointing parts of you you didn’t even know existed with his swashing webs of cum. 

Over and over.

“You think this is me heh- breeding you, brat?” Glowing crimson eyes widen at you, feral. “This- no no no no- this s’me fucking you–” He’s creeping up a vice-like hold on your perspired neck, keeping you from crawling away – keeping you hostage to every vicious plap! of his rugged v-line hips. Matching twin cockheads stirrin’ you from the inside out, “-twice.”

Filthy, filthy splotches of pre leave a mess that slips from your treacly slit. You were so wet that you’re practically sobbing steamy torrents of sap that glistens down his thighs, and Sukuna’s finding himself in fucking heaven.

“Ohhh m’gonna breed ‘er-” He growls through his clenched teeth, abs tensing until the globes of your ass slipped over the ends of every ridge. “Breed her every day- every h-hour-”

Your body jerks at the sweltering hot gusts of his pants striking you from behind, attempting to keep up with his vulgar, vulgar pace. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuuuck. Dunno if I’ll last, Kuna–”

“Cum-” And the curling corners of his grin slant with something predatory, murky pheromones leaving your brain hypnotically heady. “-the momma’s s’pposed ta cum if we want a baby.” He didn’t even believe in old wives’ tales, but the way you moved your hips made him so dumbstruck. 

And you didn’t know who was faring worse - him or you once you’re letting him fuck you through your filthy high. 

The sparks n’ waves of your orgasm crashing into you all at once, Sukuna’s dabbing your tenderized g-spot with so many hits upon hits. Milking your high, ravaging his naturally veined cock until every inch of him was raw n’ red - so pussydrunk that he doesn’t even realize he’s bulldozed into his own high until you register it first.

“Sukuna—” Your mouth dangles wetly open, breezing gales of gasps ripping from you with every weighty splat! of something wet and gooey at the back of your pussy. Double the probes to your g-spot, double the ribbony wires of seed sprinkling into you - he’s never using a condom ever again as far as you let him.

“O-oh, mama…”

And the king of curses was so mesmerized at the creamy frothing dripping out of you. Sticky, syrupy white that glues to the backs of your thighs and makes his second mouth water - so much so that he doesn’t even realize that he’d whimpered. 

♡ INO TAKUMA - H.O.T.T.O.G.O.

“M’fucking you- I-I’m really fucking you-” The last word of that sentence ends up strained, scratchy and gone. “...raw.”

“Taku~”

“Fuck-” It was just too cute how Ino’s blushing cheeks just barely peeked from underneath his heavy, cotton ski mask. The humid fabric sticking to his heated skin as you swerved your hips in a slooow heart–

“Aww– c’mon now, Taku.” Your fingertips scratch down the sweat-matted tendrils of your best friend’s chestnut bangs, tugging - and it makes him let off the prettiest pitched groan. And the sinful noise itself is enough for you to slip yourself down just one more swollen inch, “No need to be shy—”

“B-but raw? Seriously?” Comes his answer, head throwing back into your satin pillows at your lecherous motion. And Ino’s hands are twitching - clawing at your hips as if he wasn’t sure whether he wanted you to slow down or ride the utter soul out of him. 

Traitorous hips arching off of the bed with a rickety creak–! he’s creeping his globed pink-tipped cock deeper past your softly saturated folds. Mumbling away, “F-friends don’t do this-”

“Well— d’you want me to stop, baby?” You’re scoffing, eyes flittering over to the golden foil you’d accidentally torn with your teeth. “Or, I could get another condom-”

“No.” And the answer is so sharp and hoarse that you’re both momentarily shocked - aroused. The temperature in the room rising about ten degrees, and Ino looks burning hot when his half-lidded eyes finally emerge from underneath his mask, “No.”

His slender fingerpads caving in to the curves of your hips, down. “N-no.” Ino’s gritting through clenched pearly whites as he’s grabbing a handful of your asscheeks and slamming you down. “No- no no no no- don’t move. Don’t-”

And fuck- you’re watching in awe as the realization hits him that he’s really, really inside you raw.

That heavenly gaze takes over his molten peripherals and turns them pure white with eye-curling bliss, strings of spittle departing with every babble. “Move- p-please move.”

Ino was so fucking looong that the outer parts of your thighs ached after every trawling drag from his burly base to his pink, dewy-tipped cockhead. Glossing your puffed-up pussylips over with a ribbon of creamy pre every time you bounced your hips vulgarly. 

“You should haaaah– make up your m-mind, Taku—” You’re giggling smugly, watching as his pert mouth drops deeper and deeper into an adorable oh!

“S’your fault- r-raw.” Lilting baritone cracking ‘round that last word as if his melty mind couldn’t even think to say it just yet. He’s nibbling down on the insides of his cheek with a grunt, “Your fault y-your ohhh fuck- your pussy feels t-too good, pretty–” 

Ino’s mahogany lashes flutter rapidly, blinking back shiny beads of tears at the sexy clenches n’ kisses of your gooey walls. Slouching further back, he gazes with labored breath as your parched cunt dribbles a sweltering rope of sap down one of his prominent veins. Dumbfounded. 

In love.

“Wh-why does it feel so good–” One of his thumbs brush down to your sprinkling folds as if confirming the absence of a condom. Sure, he’s had practically no experience but this was heaven. Moaning throatily, “Wh-why. Shouldn’t feel this- it shouldn’t feel this…” You’re catching a hint of something unreadable in his eyes as he drifts his fiery gaze to you, “C-can you write my name, sweetness?”

And how could you not listen to that request?

Copping a solid handful of his battle-toned pecs, you’re balancing yourself enough to spell out a sloppy T-A-K-U-M-A with his barreling girth - weakened bedsprings singing as you do. The swirlin’ on those U’s especially poking his cream-capped crownhead into your favorite nooks and crannies. 

Ino’s widened gaze glasses over as his muddled mind follows every letter and every squelching draaaaaag of his name. 

Letting a few slimy veins skid directly into a clash with your g-spot and watching as you whine– “Oh….birthing hips” He gasps as if just coming to the realization. 

“Birthing hips?” You’re cooing in amusement.

And Ino can only nod and nod and nod. Plunging his hips needily upwards to chase that engulfing snog of his ridged slit gliding along your silken insides. Soft. “Gonna make me lose it-” He’s gasping, free arm shooting up to curl around your neck and dragging you into a filthy, filthy French kiss. 

“T-Taku mmm—” You’re blabbing out, stupid on the way his tufts of tawny hair rubbed up against your clit so deliciously. 

“Gonna make me l-lose it–” And then you clench and Ino slobbers - he was fully fucked-out, gone. A blossoming blush taking over his body like a heatwave, silken locks heavy with perspiration until he had to just spy through them, cock twitching. “-gonna make me- oh…gonna m-make me…propose.” 

Before you can even think of responding to his little confession, he’s summoning every existing ounce of strength in his body to clamber up onto his elbows. Glittering droplets of spit slipping from his puckered lips, “Need to pull out- need to, but…” And murked clouds of candied breath depart from his maw as soon as he readily opens, “-wan’ you t-to spit in my mouth, pretty.”

And you do - in a thick, viscid wad that glues mostly to the side of Ino’s mouth with the way he was fucking you so urgently. Hips drilling in a feral motion like he couldn’t bring himself to stop, to slow down.

You find your brows raising in intoxicated surprise as Ino startles out a shocked, drawling giggle– his husked tone veering octaves higher at times. “Y-you missed.”

“Hey- mmpf!”

A fat thumb comes to wipe off the driveling excess decorating the side of his face - before he’s stuffin’ it into your pouted maw before you can even think to complain about your target. 

With his rummaging digit hooked inside your mouth, Ino drag-drag-draaaags you closer to him, his next few uttered words tickling the curve of your ear. “S-since you missed, I get to haaaa- cum inside now, sweetness. M’kay?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “It’ll work.”

“N-no it won’t.”

“Yes it will.”

“No it- fuck!” And you can’t even get irritated with your overeager boyfriend’s cursed energy for crushing those flimsy condoms before he’s fucking you stupid with exactly that–

Raspy breaths labored, neat crescent nails clawing onto your hips - Gojo’s slamming his slenderly toned hips into yours so hard that sparking bolts of blue lightning flicker from his skin onto yours. 

“S-see–?” He’s cooing in a sultry smooth tone, one stray thumb catching on the saturated edges of your pussy and prying apart wiiiiide enough that he can glimpse the concentrated limitless wrapping ‘round his barrelling hard shaft. “S’working- h-heh, who needs fuckin’ condoms when you’ve got the ngh- strongest, sweetheart?”

“M’tell- telling you–” You’re struggling to puff out - to gasp. 

“Yeees?” 

“I-it’s not gonna- fuck–!” And Gojo - oh, he’s letting his hazed sapphire eyes circle with a ring of glowing power as his Six Eyes directs his spherical, sobbing tip precisely to your poor g-spot. Whack after sodden whack. 

Gojo was so fucking big that every one of even his tiniest grinds was bound to leave wet lil’ smooches on your cervix. Winding patterns of sappy pre that sploshes into every crevice and cranny he’s stuffing his scalding, limitless-decorated length inside of.

Cocky hums breezing against the tender lobe of your right ear, “What was thaaat?” You’re whimpering once a pair of his pale, lengthy fingertips creep down to your pursed pussylips and pinches. “C’mon squeeze ‘er t-tighter f’me, my girl-”

“Y-you’re sooo—” You’re sobbing out, heels flinching into the plush padding of his shoulder muscles as he’s rovering a targeted hit to your bulging g-spot. 

Until he’s sure you’ve memorized the exact rounded pinpoint of his divot, the exact shade of pretty pink nuzzling up to your delicate patch of nerves. 

“What was that? Huuuuh–?” Gojo’s perfectly pearly white smile twitches into something almost dangerous, “C’mon- you can hah! do it.” Smoky breaths hitching with every cute squeeeeze of your carnally heated innards, he’s clenching your oversaturated folds snugger. “Tighter. Tighter.”

And that’s exactly what you do.

Just the noisiest, most lecherous hug of your silken soft walls all kissin’ all over his sheathed girth and Gojo finds himself flinching.

Long lashes flapping his watery eyes shut, handsome jaw ticking with a sudden tension, gasping- bucking. And you’re throwing your head back with a sob when the doughy fingerpads gripping onto your pussymound buzz with the power of leaking cursed energy. 

As if Gojo wasn’t even in control anymore.

“Raw-” He’s strangling out - hoarse. Parched. “I’m- raw…”

“T-Toru, are you o- fuck.”

Your heart almost stops when the strongest finally lurches his head up at your announcement of that little nickname as if on primal instinct. Flinching. Heavy lids pulling open just the tiniest bit– and the look in his dilated, near-black told you that something in him had snapped.

That something in him was just about on the verge of racking up a kill count higher than the population right now. 

Against the tiny inkling of rationality flashing red in your muddled mind, you’re breathing out, “Toru, are you alright?”

“Do I look alright, sweetheart?”

“D-did it work?”

Gojo’s movements are rapid, jerky as if he’s being strung along by some external force– and those glassy eyes fall upon where your sloppy hole was readily swallowing his every lollipop-red, raw inch. And then he startles out a shock of laughter– “Didn’t work.”

His limitless had faltered and now so was he.

Your skin goosebumps with concern at the air, lilting octaves in his voice. The way that he’s ramming a thoroughly rummaging strike to your gooey core that you seem to feel all the way in your lungs.

“D-didn’t work.” He’s giggling into your ear, the raw - raw - scrape of his orbed divot digging a translucent line of pre all the way down, down, down to your womb and leaving him hissing. “Didn’t work didn’t work didn’t work- didn’t work n’ I haaaah- don’t regret it one bit.”

“Y-you don’t?” You’re blubbering out, every sappy smudge of his veins across your g-spot was leaving you oh-so-stupid on his fat, veiny cock. 

“Not- one- bit-” Every single word, every single syllable was punctuated with a thick, solid pillage of your gummy walls. Because now that Gojo Satoru had finally felt all of you - he couldn’t get enough. “Y-you’ve been holding out.”

Before you can even think to wonder what he meant, he’s sinfully leveraging those supernatural reflexes to swat down a few more digits on top of your dribbling cunt and spreeeead. 

“Look at her- feel her. So soft, so wet-” Hiccuping, a tiny sob crackles at the clogged-up back of Gojo’s throat every time he’s running his rounded cockhead into you. Great glittering tears dangle from those snowy lashes of his, “S-so heavenly and- ohhhh you’ve been holding out my girl– look at you.”

You’re wrenching your dizzily circlin’ gaze open to watch as he’s splurging a few stringy wads of slick onto his fingers and letting it streeeetch slimily between them. “Y-you’re filthy-”

“O-oh right, no playing with food…”

Hah, as if.

Not even nanoseconds later you’re feeling the buzzing spank of those very same digits rolling over your needy clit simply throbbin’ away. You whimper once he’s twisting the delicate nub in his touch to write a pretty TORU~♡ right on top.

“Might just b-be my new hngh- obsession.” Gojo’s purring against your cheek as you writhe and whine underneath him so cutely, glittering eyes dead-set on you. Recording every detail. “Never gonna let you go now- ngh- gonna fuck you forever- gonna feel her- haaaah- you’re m-my girl, right?”

And you’re simply nodding and nodding and nodding as he’s cooing at you through every shuddering ram. 

Right where his sculptured pelvis was riding against yours was now starting to burn bright red, the stinging impact seeping out such powerful waves of reverse cursed energy zapping through your body so that Gojo wouldn’t break you when his tempo got harder and harder–

“You’re gonna c-cum soon, sweetheart-” He’s choking in-between a gnawing kiss down on your syrupy tongue, feeling the way your scalding tastebuds water once you realize his Six Eyes was accurate. 

Your cottony head throwing back uselessly into the decadent pillows with a wail, “Please- please, let me cum- Toru–”

“Gonna cum- gonna cum f’me.” He’s muttering underneath his breath, and through the teary cracks in your lids you can make out the way that Gojo was snarling. Eyes wide, dimples cratered, a sheer raw intensity to him that you’d only seen in battle before. 

One of his knobbly-tipped indexes draws an invisible line halfway across your stomach, skin tingling wherever he caresses. “There.” Gulping, mouth dry, he’s battering your sloppy cunt with one-two-three more resounding hammers. “There.”

The euphoria that crashes into you is so strong that he’s displaying you with his big, beefy forearm to sink your teeth into and bite - hard enough that you’re tasting metal. 

He’s shoveling quick, exact pounds that hit you right when your highs peak, multiple. 

And it wasn’t just you cumming - it was your beloved Gojo, too.

Skin electric, eyes scrunched, the romantic lighting in your bedroom shattering and shooting out pieces of glass that bounce off of the limitless he’d cast over the two of you.

Hours and hours later you’ll be wondering why the entirety of Tokyo doesn’t have power, but for now you’re too amazed by the fact that Gojo didn’t even seem to realize he was cumming, almost like he couldn’t even stop now that he’d started. 

Raw, he was finally filling you up just the way he’d been dreaming of for so long. 

He’s only cooing at your marking gnaw as if it was a cute nibble, “Yeah- yeah take it.” Husking voice cracks bleeding out of him with every streaming spurt of seed that floods out like a waterfall inside of you. “Take it take it take it–”

So much that it splashes out of you and formulates a syrupy puddle that Gojo dips a few fingertips into and sucks. So much that your numb legs are thrashing with the dilemma to either run away or milk him for more, more more–

“No running.” 

Gojo’s voice has dipped back into a stern bass as he’s announcing, curling his left- no, right? - your mind was so sweet n’ cotton-filled that you could barely even think anymore - palm ‘round your throat and draaaagging you back to scratch the tufted white curls at his base with your sprinkling pussy.

He’s craning down enough that his spit-stained lips tickle the shell of your right ear, “My S-Six Eyes says it didn’t take…” Another probin’ thrust, this time pumping his sickly honeyed web of cum right against the door to your womb, “-yet.”

A/N. Quick question- was my Gojo favoritism showing this time-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[writerpeach]

Provocation

ITZY Shin Yuna x m!reader

15k words

“That’s not true,” Yuna argues, arms folded as if this is the most ludicrous thing she's had to explain. "Despite what everyone thinks, I don't sleep around. Maybe a few guys on the weekends, but during the week? I like to have a one-guy policy."

You don't believe her one bit—but you'll play along. "Just one guy? That's it?"

Yuna shrugs her shoulders. "Of course. One guy at a time. One guy on Monday—maybe Tuesday. And Wednesday. That's it."

"That's three, Yuna," you laugh, shifting in your seat to face her a bit more. She takes a sip of her drink, stirring it around before bringing it back up to her pouty, red lips—the ones that cause nothing but trouble.

"Exactly. A different guy each day of the week. I don't think that's a lot. If anything, Yeji gets around way more than me."

Now you know she's lying.

The way you can tell is when her lips move. That's the telltale sign. When a word slips out between them, you always know the words will be objectively false. 

Because this is Shin Yuna, the girl who flaunts every facet of her beauty like it's her job. This is the girl who wears skirts short enough to flash the entire bar a glimpse of her perfect little ass. The one who always leaves the house wearing a bra on purpose, her top always sheer enough to show the shape of her perky breasts. The same girl who would give head to a random guy just because he asked for a stick of gum.

"Yeji? Are we talking about the same girl?" you question, doubting that girl would even have a quarter the sex that Yuna has in one night. Yeji's definitely attractive, but reserved and soft spoken—nothing like the track record Yuna has.

"Hey, don't get it twisted," Yuna protests, nearly spilling some drink when she sets her glass down. "Yeji isn't some innocent church girl. She's a lot hornier than people think. Almost too much. As much as she acts all pure and sweet and innocent, she's a freak."

You'd say you believe her, except it's Yuna—so it's not probable in the slightest. "Right. She's totally a freak and you're an absolute saint."

"Glad we're on the same page." Yuna grins, stealing your drink to take a sip without even asking, leaving those red lips staining the rim of the glass. "She's more insatiable than me."

"I think you've had a little too much to drink, Yuna.” 

Yuna ignores you entirely. "I mean it—that girl is probably getting dicked down as we speak. Or if she isn't, then she's got a new vibrator that's getting the job done, watching some of the most depraved porn out there. That girl is obsessed."

"Obsessed with dick or obsessed with porn?"

"Both. You can't imagine some of the toys she has hidden."

Yuna keeps speaking, but she could say anything at this point, and you know there wouldn’t be an ounce of truth in it. She's gotten more than a couple drinks deep now. And her tight skirt rides up, each not-so-subtle movement revealing more thigh as she shifts, not even the slightest concerned who can see underneath.

"If she's a freak, what the hell does that make you, then?" you ask in all earnest, trying to change the subject, because Yuna clearly can't be trusted around alcohol. This girl and oversharing go together far too well.

"Me? Oh, I'm the best fuck of your life—the one who will choke on your cock like a goddamn whore and let you blow your load all over my pretty face." 

You don’t even look at her when you reply. "Forget I ever asked." 

"But you did ask. And now you're going to take me home so I can demonstrate exactly what I do to those poor, pathetic boys every weekend."

"Absolutely not. I don't recall making an invitation."

"Do I need one? Doesn't feel like it," Yuna asks, with a quick tilt of her head. "Doesn't daddy wanna spend all night fucking this tight little pussy?"

You nearly vomit hearing Yuna's poor attempt at seduction. "Stop it. Please, for the love of god, don't ever call me that again."

She simply laughs it off, leaning close as she rests a hand on your thigh, those nimble little fingers giving a good squeeze, when it wanders just a little too high. 

"Come on," she insists. "The second you’ve got your cock inside me, you know there won't be any pulling out. Daddy won't be able to control himself."

"I'm leaving you here. Take a cab if you have to," you warn, standing up from the barstool without even the slightest look back in her direction.

Yuna sighs. “Okay, fine,” she says as she grabs your wrist, keeping you from going very far. "I won't call you that anymore. Just take me home and fuck my brains out. Please?"

That voice, the desperation, it's hard to resist. Not to mention the pleading look, those big, round eyes staring, and when your focus falls down her shirt, barely even a shirt, the curves on this girl she dares to flaunt in your face. Yuna wants you to know that you'd be a fool to turn her down.

"What's in it for me? Aren't there plenty of guys lining up for a chance to fuck you here?" 

"This place is boring—and none of them can handle me." 

You're not even sure you can handle this girl and her attitude, but when Yuna stares like that, this longing look that begs for attention—it's difficult to say no. "Are you saying that just because you want a ride home?"

"It's a reason, yes." She can't hold back the smile, no matter how hard she tries. "You take me home, and then I'll suck your cock until your legs give out. Won't you help this poor, helpless little slut?"

Against your better judgment, there’s this temptation you can’t ignore. A devil resting on your shoulder, and on the other side, also a devil in the form of Shin Yuna herself. You can’t refuse that smile, those batting eyelashes, or those eyes without a hint of innocence in them. You’re already a lost cause. 

Yuna can’t help but smirk, seeing her prey lured in with such ease as she grabs her coat, one hand slipping in yours, and not even needing a response when the both of you know where this is heading. "No more daddy—that's a promise."

You don’t believe that for a second, but you also don't care one bit as you head out, Yuna clinging to your arm on the way to the parking lot. 

And this might be your biggest mistake yet. 

Neither of you even make it out of the parking garage to your apartment. Yuna has you backed up against the cold, concrete wall, in a dark corner that she swears doesn't have a camera—but even if it does, who fucking cares when the sight of her on her knees takes precedence, getting your cock wet between her lips as fast as possible.

And the sound of her greedy slurps echo off those same walls, somehow a thousand times louder than usual. 

"You know my apartment is right up there," you manage to say in between gasping breaths. Yuna's barely listening, staring straight into your eyes, with her cheeks hollowed to no end and every inch of your cock taken down so easily. She spits over your length a few more times, spreading it along your hard shaft before her lips swallow you whole, not breaking her gaze once for even a single breath. 

With another loud, sloppy suck with those red lips around the tip of your shaft, that's the only time she answers, a small pop filling the air when she backs off, stroking you slowly with her fist.

"That's two floors up. Why wait, when I can just suck your cock here? That elevator takes ages." she argues innocently, running her tongue underneath that most sensitive area of your shaft. "Unless you really want me to stop—"

"N-no. Fuck, no. Don't you fucking dare." 

"That's what I thought,” Yuna replies, and she has no intention to, burying her nose in your abdomen with every last inch consumed by her warm throat. And her wet mouth gets so noisy, so starved, these desperate slurps that could probably be heard all the way to the top floor of the parking garage. 

It's so completely Yuna: her lack of restraint, the enthusiasm as she bobs her head in a blur without any sign of a gag reflex. The way her lips tighten around your shaft and stay there for an eternity without pulling off even for a second, like she needs your cock down her throat for survival. It’s goddamn relentless. 

“God, Yuna, this fucking mouth—" you curse under your breath and place a hand on her head for guidance, wondering how the fuck Yuna manages to take so much at once while looking so beautiful at the same time. It's her lips wrapped around every inch, the way she stares into you, her lipstick all smeared along the base of your shaft with a fresh layer of spit glistening along the length of it. "Why the hell is your mouth so good at this?” 

It's a compliment that's only going to feed that inflated ego, as if that's even possible at this point. But you can't hold back the praise, when her lips feel this incredible, wrapped so tight with all the warm, wet suction you can handle, taking you back into the deep end of her throat like nothing. 

"I’ve told you…” Yuna starts with this smug little grin as she draws out every reaction she can out of your features with a messy kiss to your swollen cockhead. "Suck enough dick, and you have it down to a science. Nobody gives head better than me. Not Yeji, not a single person you've met."

Can’t say you find any fault with that, for once. The rare occasion when Yuna speaks the truth, with how good her mouth feels on you, slurping away to get these groans spilling that reinforces her point. How could anybody come close? 

“Don’t let it get to your head.” 

“Too late,” she says, with her playful little chuckle when you escape from the heat of her mouth. She continues to pump her fingers along every spit-soaked inch that sets you on edge, slowing down only so she can drag it out, savor the look of desperation etched across your face. Then she’s right back down, lips flush to your base in no time. 

“Shit, those fucking lips feel so good. Who knew you had any other skill other than being an obnoxious fucking brat.” 

Yuna doesn't even fight you for that one, giving your length a sloppy kiss, before sliding her mouth down to latch around your balls and suck hard. A tight fist strokes quicker than before, twisting so perfectly while her mouth is occupied, a motion that makes you completely unable to hold back the strangled noises that she gets off on. 

It all feels too good, with her full attention devoted to your aching cock that throbs in her fingers, these lewd slurps of your sensitive balls that drive you towards the edge faster when her mouth gets all hot and wet around you.

“F-fuck, fuck, Yuna—“ 

It’s so clear, the sheer enjoyment written across Yuna's features when she pops off your balls with a loud, wet pop. and then gets your cock right back in her mouth where it belongs.

There’s no stopping her this time—not when she gets a good grip on your thighs for support, so she can slobber on your cock with reckless abandon. A fucking shameless display, saliva dripping down her chin, a messy string that connects from her lip to the tip of your swollen cockhead while she takes you straight into the back of her throat, again, and again, not taking a breath unless she absolutely needs to. 

And then she’s jerking your cock right in front of her face. 

“Almost ready to cum for me, aren’t you? Don't you wanna fucking finish all over my pretty face? Don't you like how nice it looks when I'm covered in your thick load?"

Fuck, do you ever—and it doesn't help when Yuna tightens her grip and gives these rapid strokes that have your head spinning. All you can do is watch as she furiously jerks your cock straight towards her gorgeous face, tongue out so eagerly as she awaits every bit you're ready to release.

When it hits, the first explosive burst shoots across her forehead, streaking right over her hair. The rest follows, finding a place splattering all across her face. All over those open pouty lips—hot, sticky spurts that Yuna catches with her tongue as each shot paints a different spot of her features, the excess dribbling down her chin. 

Yuna laughs through it, trying not to close her eyes so she can watch you unload all over her features, a mess that has no end in sight. More hits her cheek, a nice shot across her nose as your cock pulsates in her tight fist, and the hot spurts continue to paint her in white streaks across her flawless face. A final few bursts land across her open mouth, a taste that gets her smiling so wide through a cum-stained mess.

"Fucking christ, Yuna," you exhale, out of breath as the high lingers.

Yuna lets your throbbing cock rest gently against her cheek, your orgasm slow to subside. Even when every last drop is wrung from the tip, she refuses to take her mouth off you, sucking your shaft clean with a few long slurps and flicks of her tongue that make you nearly collapse. 

"Just look at all that fucking cum. I'm covered in it, like a good little slut should be," she marvels, staring at the exhaustion plastered across your face. "Bet that felt good, huh? God, there's like a week's worth of cum here. All milked out of your thick fucking cock."

And Yuna has never looked better. 

"H-hold on, I'll get something to clean that up—"

Yuna gets to her feet, stepping in to shut down the idea before you can finish. "No need. I'll keep it on until we get to your apartment. Plus, I look the prettiest when I'm dripping with your cum."

It's insane—the words this girl will casually throw out in public, and how she wants to spend the entire elevator ride looking like that. Even if it's late enough that hardly anybody uses this elevator, there's always a chance you could run into someone who lives here. But saying no to this girl was never an option, already heading back the direction of the elevator without giving much a chance to argue, much less a chance to slip your pants back on.

Shin Yuna is quite possibly the worst influence—and yet, here you are.

Once she's all cleaned up, it's just pure unadulterated lust, from both ends as you find a spot on the couch to crash into with Yuna straddling you. Not an ounce of innocence in the kiss. Nothing but hot breath and moans, not even a second to break for air. The alcohol, the ride back here, the blowjob in the goddamn parking garage, you can't even contain yourself anymore. You let this girl get to you in the best of ways and give into this sinful temptation with an absolute desire to ruin her.

Yuna groans as you plant these rough, messy kisses along her neck—god, she tastes so good, like strawberries and sin and everything you're addicted to. She writhes under you, fingers tangled through your hair and you're not leaving your lips off her for a single second. 

"Keep doing that, please, f-fuck," Yuna pleads, and you flip her around effortlessly to do so, her tight little body flat on her back underneath you. You leave these marks all down her neck—sucking hard on that sensitive skin so easy to bruise, and sinking your teeth in at every opportunity. All these whimpers fill your ears and the louder they are, the harder you bite, the rougher your kisses grow.

This relentless assault leaves her breathless, an abrupt change from the usual confidence and arrogance that defines her. Right here, under you like this, Yuna makes it so easy to have her body entirely at your mercy—even more when you strip her shirt off and toss it aside, revealing those breasts fully to the chilly air. You barely have time to admire the sight of them before your mouth moves to devour the newly exposed flesh.

"You have no idea all the things I want to do to you, Yuna," you growl as you take a nipple between your lips, a sharp suck and a light nibble that makes her squirm even harder against the couch cushions.

"Like what? Tell me everything you want to do to me, d-daddy—"

You glare up, eyeing her intently and there's this sudden moment of silence while you refuse to get your mouth back onto her tits. 

"S-sorry, it just slipped," she says with this unabashed laughter, her apology as believable as anything else that escapes from those pretty lips. "Every guy I fuck loves hearing that. Force of habit."

"Don't make me leave you on this couch alone, Shin Yuna. Because I'll fucking do it, no hesitation."

"You'll never hear it again, I promise. Never, ever—now come on, back to what you were doing."

You raise a suspicious brow for a moment, but then it's back to your ravenous mouth focusing all over her chest, kissing up all over when you alternate between them. She loves it too—every hot and heavy kiss, every time you lick right at her most sensitive spots, latching onto her stiff nipples and sucking so hard. Yuna grips tightly at the back of your head, her fingers deep in those locks while you devour her tits and enjoy the softness of them against your face, skin flushed when you switch to the other breast.

And god, this sound that escapes her throat—when you travel down her body and kiss her abdomen, these soft little kisses that make her sigh harder and squirm more, getting lower and lower until the fabric of her skirt blocks your progression. It's this whimper from her lips when you swipe your tongue right above her belly button, a slow drag that tastes as much of her as possible.

"Skirt on or off? Your pick." You kiss at the top of her thighs, waiting eagerly for an answer as you toy around with the zipper.

"Whatever d—" she stops herself halfway. "You want. Whatever you want. On. Just fuck me with it on—can't wait, need you between my thighs already."

Can't say you're disappointed in the decision—pushing her skirt up her thighs to reveal that pretty purple lace that contrasts her pale thighs. But before you have the chance to put her out of her misery, you get a little more comfortable, stripping down to nothing but your boxers while Yuna bites her bottom lip and watches in silence. She keeps staring, wide eyes filled with anticipation as she catches the slightest glimpse of the way you're hard for her already.

"See something you like?" you ask her, Yuna shifting underneath with her skirt neatly bunched up her waist. 

"No, not a single thing," she answers, unable to hide her laughter for a second.

"Good, then I guess I can just go jerk off in my room or something," you tease, about to remove yourself from the couch until her hands lock tight around your shoulders, keeping you planted there.

"Shut the fuck up and eat me out. Can't wait a second more, ruin me with that amazing tongue of yours."

"Not even a please?"

"Absolutely not," Yuna insists, growing more impatient by the second. But it's a good thing you're generous—and more than raring to get between her thighs as much as she needs you to. 

She can hardly contain the noise when you grab the waistband of her panties and drag them down those long legs, Yuna lifting up just slightly to help guide them off. And when they slide past her feet, you don't hesitate one bit, spreading her thighs apart just to admire the sight—exposing her glistening wet cunt in all its glory.

"See something you like?" Yuna echoes your own question right back, flashing a smirk which only fades when you respond with a brief flick of your tongue. 

"Yeah, a perfect place to dump a huge load of cum," you remark back, licking a long stripe up her wet slit before ending in a gentle suck of her clit. "God, you're so fucking wet, Yuna. Dripping like crazy down here."

"Who's fucking fault is that?" 

"Not mine. You're the one who begged me to take you home because you were too scared to find a stranger in the bar to fuck."

The first few long licks do the rest of the talking for you as you bury your head deep between her spread thighs, tongue exploring her deliciously wet pussy. So sweet on your lips the more you taste, a suck of her clit every now and again, these unimpeded moans that can’t help spring free from her lips. 

"F-fuck, oh my fucking—first off, I did not beg. Second, don't pretend like you wouldn't fuck me if I found someone better," Yuna manages to get out mid-way through an absolutely filthy groan, grabbing fistfuls of your hair to push your face against her pussy.

"You're saying you could find someone better than me? In that shitty little dive bar?"

"S-shut up. Your ego's fucking broken," she argues between her desperate moans. You roll your eyes at her and get back to work—watching the way Yuna attempts to cover up her mouth with the palm of her hand. 

"Is that why you're struggling so much not to moan for me? You think any of those drunk idiots at the bar could do what I do to this pretty little pussy?" You're so determined to see her at a loss for words, lapping away at her clit, but that's all this girl brings out of you. It's difficult to play the nice guy when all her lips do is incite a response out of you like this. 

"You talk t-too much. Shut up and eat my cunt, so I can cum on your face already."

That you can do—more than happily. With a hand against her abdomen, Yuna's being pinned to the cushions as your tongue lashes away at her delicious folds to really lap up all her sweetness. It's addictive, the way you suck and lick away, from her swollen clit, right down to the bottom of her glistening wet slit, this intense groan tearing right through her as she locks eyes to watch you devour her cunt.

"Forgot how fucking good you taste—god, you taste fucking amazing.” 

“You forgot? Nobody forgets how good I taste. Not when you're addicted to eating my pussy as much as you are—"

That's a ridiculous enough statement to ignore, but you also can't bear the idea of stopping what you're doing, with your tongue exploring in slow, steady laps of every delicious morsel. Not when the sweet taste of Yuna fills your mouth and threatens to drown out everything else you feel, because she's so damn wet. It's the way your head is trapped between her thighs, keeping you right where she wants, smothering your face with her dripping cunt and forcing your tongue as deep as it can possibly reach. 

"Fucking shit—your mouth, that's so good, god. Fuck, fuck, y-you're gonna make me fucking cum! Don't stop—"

Like you could ever. Not when you have Yuna writhing against the cushions, watching the way her features contort into absolute bliss with just a harsh suck of her clit. 

Her mouth hangs open, head thrown back and the lewd, whiny little moans that you're so familiar with come right out. There's a rhythm of breathing that follows—heavy and erratic the more you try to break this girl. She struggles to even control herself when all she's reduced to is a soaking mess in front of your eyes, grinding against your face, needing to cum more than her next breath.

And that's the perfect opportunity to deny her what she wants so desperately. A split-second pause, watching the lust transform into absolute desperation. 

"N-no, please," she protests, urgency in her voice the second she feels your tongue stop. 

"Something wrong?"

"You ass—don't fucking stop. I said not to stop!" 

That's enough incentive to get back to it, fingers plunging right inside that wet heat to give your mouth a much-needed rest. Which only gives you these drawn-out moans, and fuck—there's not a single thing tighter than Yuna. Two fingers sink in with such ease, so wet, so warm, just taking whatever you'll give her at this rate. Nice and slow at first, so you can admire her reaction as you curl them inside, reaching spots that make her back arch right off the couch. 

"P-please, I'm so fucking close, fuck—"

Now she's begging, needing release at a level that's quite rare to see from Yuna. You pick up the pace, plunging those digits deep inside her sopping wet walls, hitting that same spot that makes her hips jolt so violently. 

"Is this what you needed? Come on, I know you're right fucking there. Fucking cum, Yuna. Cum like the needy little slut you are." 

You're not sure if it's the words that do her in, or the merciless assault of your fingers—both together is what gets the job done, the constant wet squelch that echoes with every furious plunge deep into her slick warmth. It's unmistakable when her cunt gushes around your thrusting fingers—spraying all over your hand, the couch, and god knows what else is just destroyed at this point. 

Yuna turns into a relentless, gushing mess, until she grabs your wrist to keep those fingers moving, filling the air with an even more delicious series of sobs.

Beautiful doesn’t begin to describe it when her body spasms the more you pump into this sensitive little cunt. Your fingers are so drenched, with the juices that spill like a fountain, these choked moans that escape with every thrust. And when that begging for more turns into pleading to stop, you're not interested in withdrawal, not until you wring a second orgasm out, a third, however many it takes for her to finally tap out. 

"S-stop, you're gonna fucking kill me, stop—god, it's just too much," she cries out, every ounce of strength left in her failing. Only do you pull out when Yuna forces your arm away, thighs still quivering in the aftermath as you get a good look of the damage done. Flat on her back, she can hardly move on her own. A mess all along her creamy thighs, along the couch, and who knows where else. 

"My poor couch."

"Your poor couch? What about my poor fucking pussy? Look at what you fucking did, I came like five fucking times—"

Even in the aftermath of an intense, messy climax, Yuna can’t help being Yuna.

"I didn't hear any complaints when you were squirting all over me,” you say, and bring your wet fingers to your lips to suck the delicious taste off. 

"Because your fucking fingers felt so fucking good, you asshole—" Yuna's so worn out, completely unable to do anything but just revel in the mess she's made.  

"You're welcome."

"That wasn't a thank you—oh my fucking god, look at my skirt, you fuck," Yuna groans, eyes shifting to the state bunched up above her waist. 

"This is your fault, don't even start."

"Because you fucking made me ruin it, this is like a $300 skirt!"

"My condolences," you say, without a hint of guilt, the damage to her skirt not even the least of your concerns. Especially when you unzip it to slide it right down her slim figure—revealing every inch of her gorgeous body naked for you to drink in. "Excuse me, princess. However can I make it up to you?"

"Don't fucking call me that," she snaps, and even in her weakened state she's not any easier to deal with. "I'm too tired to ride you right now, so you're just going to have to fuck me until my legs don't work." 

"Still not hearing a please," you remind her, slipping out of your boxers at last, your stiff cock finally freed after seeing Yuna's naked frame laid out so perfectly.

"You can take your please and shove it right up your fucking ass. I'm not saying it."

"Fucking brat," you curse, grabbing her waist to position Yuna right where you want her. "I'll do all the damn work then—you're not going anywhere but into this couch."

"Good, about fucking time."

When she's finally done complaining, her gaze falls back to your rock hard cock aimed at her soaking entrance. You shift forward, a hand on her slender waist for support, the head of your shaft nudging her wet cunt.

"Come on then, I haven't got all night—are you gonna fuck me, or just stare?"

"Yes you do. What the fuck else are you gonna do? Go fuck somebody else you won't even remember the next morning?" Angling yourself just right, you don’t waste a second longer to slide inside, right up to the hilt—feeling that tight, heavenly cunt consume every inch.

"My fucking god, Yuna—"

She's never felt more incredible, or so goddamn tight, impossibly wet, warm—every sensation just overwhelming, getting used to it all over like it's the first time inside her. A feeling that doesn't disappear, even before you move one bit, with these beautiful legs spread wide apart as they'll go.

"Forgot how tight my little pussy was, huh?" she taunts, loving the groans that it pulls from your mouth. "You haven't changed at all. Still have that same cute little face you get when you've got your cock inside me. My pussy just ruins every other girl for you, doesn't it?"

"Too tight, god—why are you so fucking tight? Greedy slut gets pounded by twelve guys a week and still this tight? Fuck—"

"Less talking and more fucking. Move your hips—fuck me like the filthy little whore I am, come on."

Your only response is to get your hands right on both sides of Yuna's tiny waist, sliding outside with just the tip of your cock remaining, before slamming your entire shaft to fill her again. The first thrusts alone have her clutching the couch cushions to brace for more, each one a little rougher, a little deeper, the walls of her cunt clenching so hard the more of your throbbing shaft fills her. 

"Don’t hold back. I wanna feel every inch of that thick fucking cock in my wet little cunt," Yuna breathes out with this demand in her voice. "Come on, harder—ruin my poor little pussy, f-fuck."

"That's the fucking plan." All this tension you've built up between each other has reached its boiling point, the frustration, the annoyance, all coming out here and now. Because once Yuna is under you like this, everything changes, your hips pulling back only to shove in again, a relentless rhythm on repeat. 

"Better be. Why do you even need other girls when my perfect little pussy is always here waiting for your cock? You already have a pretty fucktoy to use, don't you—"

"Yuna, stop fucking talking already," you groan with no patience for anymore of her rambling. "Your schedule is a little booked up right now, in case you haven't noticed."

That's when your thrusts hit without holding back, hard enough to get a reprieve from that bratty attitude—watching her pretty features contort as you keep drilling inside that intoxicating heat. Not letting up once, the sound of her slick pussy soaking every inch of your shaft with every slam fills the room, barely audible over the sound of her loud moans. And that tightness, god—it’s unfathomable, unforgettable, each delicious clench driving your hips so you’ll feel more of it. 

"Then I'll fucking clear my schedule. As long as you promise to fuck me like this—I'll put you in my calendar every fucking day."

That's not exactly the solution, and you can't imagine being with Yuna day in and day out, even if that comes with the prospect of having access to this pretty, warm little wet hole whenever you feel like. No, not worth the hassle—maybe for a weekend, but beyond that you'd go insane.

"Once a week is enough. Maybe twice if you can keep your fucking attitude in check."

"You love my attitude. Just like the rest of this body that you can't keep your hands off."

She has a point—a painfully accurate one, but not one that you're willing to admit when you keep trying to silence Yuna with these violent slams that have your balls ready to unload sooner rather than later. Her tight cunt drives you absolutely wild, almost distracting enough from that infuriating mouth of hers.

But even more distracting is the look in her face while you fuck her, and you can't resist staring with every thrust as she continues to keep those legs parted just for you. That's until they wrap tightly around your waist, the heels of her bare feet digging into your lower back, forcing you deeper into this perfect tight body.

"What the fuck are you—"

Yuna's light giggle interrupts your question, the look in her eyes almost enough of an answer on its own. "Just making sure you're not thinking about pulling out. Want every drop you have. Fucking dump it in me."

"God, will you shut up," you groan, face burying into the crook of Yuna's neck, unable to take another second of her mouth running while your hips keep up this unforgiving pace. This tightness, this wetness, it's more than you can handle, using her cunt to fuck every bit of annoyance building inside from what feels like forever. 

"I'll shut up when you cum inside me. It's been way too fucking long since you finished inside me, since I've heard you moan when your balls empty. Does every girl you fuck let you finish like this? Bet none of them do."

You're not even interested in playing this game with her, not when she has you so close already, your pistoning hips driven by such immense desire to flood Yuna's dripping cunt. She's even clenching harder than usual with those slim legs locked so tight, a grip you can't possibly slip from no matter how much you tried. Not that you even would. 

Thrust after merciless thrust, you keep your lips sealed to her neck, sucking so hard like it's the only thing to keep you anchored. All you can do is keep moaning in her ear, keep hammering her greedy little cunt, faster and faster—

"I'm about to fucking cum, Y-Yuna—"

The words leave your mouth right before you've reached your limit. Your mind's elsewhere, not even in control, as your balls tighten and every muscle in your body tenses. Not even a word on her end, like Yuna was waiting for this moment the entire night. There's just hot breath on her neck, your cock pounding so hard into this soaked pussy, every pump taking you further past the point of no return—until that first surge shoots deep inside her wet walls.

A hot, sticky load floods right into her pussy in a violent throb of bursts, pumping one spurt after the other deep as possible. Yuna wraps her legs tighter with each, keeping you buried completely while everything unloads inside her. Everything goes blank, losing track of how many shots fill her tight cunt, a complete blur while your hips move on repeat, fucking it all deeper into her slick warmth. 

"F-fuck, there's so much," Yuna groans, struggling to find the words, feeling every ounce of your hot load spill inside, threatening to overflow before you even finish.

You just continue to drive into her without mercy, until your body begins to give out, sweat dripping all along her pale frame underneath. By the time you're done, you’ve collapsed into the comfort of Yuna's neck, planting gentle kisses along the marks you've left behind while you ride out the high. She stays quiet for a moment—no taunting, no attitude, letting your still throbbing cock rest inside her with your thick load slowly seeping out.

It's the most deserved orgasm you've had in a while, you think. Putting up with Yuna—just to unload everything you have inside, where it belongs. All her annoying remarks, that shameless, filthy fucking mouth all seem to fade into obscurity after everything. For a few seconds, there's bliss. A quiet bliss. 

Bliss that doesn't last very long at all. 

"Did that feel good? Emptying your big, heavy balls inside me?" Yuna asks you, resting her long arms around your body. It's almost calming, the light scratches down your back that lull you into a state of relaxation. Something you didn't think was possible with this girl.

"Y-yeah," you breathe out against her neck, struggling to catch your breath as you linger in the warmth of her tight pussy that can’t stop clenching for more. "I came inside you, now get off me—"

"Never, you're still fucking hard. My legs still work, and I haven't even gotten to ride you yet," she reminds you, staring straight into your eyes with her legs staying perfectly in place. "That load was just an appetizer—daddy." 

You groan—louder than ever before, but not in pleasure.

"What the fuck did I tell you about calling me that?"

Yuna shifts beneath, legs relaxing enough to release the hold—allowing you to slide your cock free from the overwhelming heat.

"What's the matter, a nice, thick creampie in my tight cunt isn't enough for me to call you whatever I please?"

You're ignoring her, in as many ways as you can when you move your gaze between her thighs to admire the sight—the beautiful mess that's dripping from her pussy, so full of your hot cum. "Go home, Yuna. If that's what's you're going to keep doing, then we're fucking done here." 

"You're no fun. It's after midnight, you're not going to send a little innocent girl like me out alone like this, are you?"

Again, you ignore her, standing up from the couch in complete disarray and making a path to the bathroom instead. "I need a shower, but you can sleep on this couch you've defiled for all I care. Please be gone in the morning."

It's a bit heartless, you know, but Yuna brings out this part in you that rarely sees the light of day, when she refuses to listen. Even more so when her footsteps follow closely behind, her petite naked frame and that mess between her legs still dripping without any ounce of shame.

"God, you're such a mood killer," Yuna sighs, grabbing your wrist to pull your attention her way. "I'll stop fucking teasing you. I'll stop calling you daddy, you big fucking baby. Just let me shower with you. Please? I won't even talk. I promise."

That's a hard one to trust, given her track record. But she sounds far too exhausted to even try any tricks, pleading so hard to convince you to let her share your bed tonight. And it's hard to turn down that pout, those bright, widened eyes that stare you into submission.

"Fine. Not a single word in the shower. And if you call me that even once, Yuna, I'm never shoving my cock in you ever again. Do you understand?"

"Of course. Swear it on my life. Promise. Never ever ever—that's it."

And just like that, this look in her eyes when she steps inside the shower after you suggests she'll live up to that word. You'll see. If anything, seeing her naked under the hot steam is enough to commit to whatever terms you've created. A selfish, yet regrettable decision.

A nice, relaxing shower where this brat doesn't utter a single sound, not a single dirty comment—that's better than anything in your wildest dreams.

Things move to the bedroom, as they usually do with Yuna. The two of you are completely devoid of any clothing, because modesty with her around simply doesn't exist. She slides into the spot beside you, resting her head on your chest, delicate fingers in a relaxed grip around the length of your shaft. And you’re happy to do nothing but watch the smile on her face while she gives these magical strokes, not nearly enough pleasure to take things any further. 

"Whenever you're ready to put this big thing back inside me, let me know," Yuna says as casually as possible—as casual as someone can get while palming their hand around your cock.

But you're hesitant to leave this moment—her body curled so perfectly against yours, to the point where you can almost tolerate her. Almost. That being the important thing in all this.

"I already filled you twice today. Not enough for one night?"

"Never enough," she insists, giving a firm squeeze that makes you reluctantly agree. "Plus, you haven't filled my ass, and we both know what a huge fan I am of that.” 

"Obsessed is more the right word. You might be more into me fucking your ass than I am, and that's saying something. Like, I could live inside there."

She giggles, her delicate little fingers tracing down your shaft while she keeps stroking. "Can you blame me when I have an ass like this? You should be the one begging me instead of the other way around." 

"I'd never beg you for anything, Yuna. You're a pretty girl with a nice ass who spreads their legs on command, I don't need much more than that from you."

Yuna responds with a tug at your balls, almost painful in nature to get a point across. "Tell me that again when you want to bury your face in my ass. See if that's true then. Let's see how long you last without getting to eat my ass."

"Okay, okay—point taken."

"Not everybody gets to tongue my ass. It's a privilege."

"So lucky, my life is complete now that Shin Yuna allows me the honor of worshiping her ass." 

That makes her squeeze your cock all too hard in this agonizingly slow stroke. "My ass is fucking amazing. The only word for it, and it deserves some appreciation. I don't even let anyone else but you fuck me there."

"Why do I not believe that?"

Yuna drops a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your chest. "You don't have to believe it. I'll let half a dozen guys all have turns fucking me at once—until they cum inside me or on my face. Nobody but you gets the luxury of pounding my ass though."

“I’m touched.” 

"You should be. Every guy I fuck should be on their knees, begging me for the slightest chance to worship my body, especially my ass." 

Nobody has confidence like Yuna does, even if it's wildly inflated. As much as her very presence annoys you, it’s hard to say you could survive long without that tight ass. Whether it’s bouncing on your cock, your face, or just existing in front of your hips to have a handprint against it. That doesn't mean you'd ever drop to your knees and grovel for her, but there's no denying how much power that ass has.

"Nobody has a better ass than you, Yuna. Not even Yeji. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?" She laughs—this sinister laugh, while squeezing your cock in her tight little hand, nodding all excitedly in agreement. You know it's going to go to her head, but the alternative is much worse. "Good, now can you just jerk me off in peace?"

“Fine,” she says, with a defeated sigh. “If that's what you want. I won't make another sound. You can just relax. Pretend I'm not here. I'll just keep jerking off this nice, thick cock until you cum again." 

"Now you're getting it."

You close your eyes and appreciate the silence, knowing this might be the only time when Yuna doesn't find some excuse to run her mouth. Her hands keep busy, and god, are her hands just heaven when she's so slow and focused. The one time she doesn't say a fucking word, just pumping your cock until you're ready to explode all over her.

You don't even remember falling asleep. The last thing you remember is Yuna straddling you, riding with all the energy in the world despite her earlier exhaustion. Hair draped over her face as she bounced up and down, hips so frantic and needy, groaning while you slipped a finger to toy with her ass. And then it's all a blur. Sweet, uninterrupted slumber, and that's how you ended up like this.

But now, Yuna isn't anywhere to be seen. And you're not sure if that's a good thing or not. So, rather reluctantly, you rise from the comfort of your bed, grab a fresh pair of boxers, a clean shirt, and stumble right into the kitchen for some semblance of routine. 

The smell of coffee lingers in the air, a normally welcome start to the day. This time it's different—it's burnt. Far from the rich aroma of a good cup, the one you've brewed on your expensive coffee machine you imported just months ago. Something's amiss.

There's the culprit. Yuna is standing there, fiddling around with the machine like the controls are in a different language. She's dressed at least, kind of, barefoot in what appears to be your shirt, white and loose fitting, barely covering her delicious bare ass when she's bent over trying to figure out the buttons.

"Morning," Yuna says over her shoulder, as if completely oblivious to the damage she's caused. "Think your coffee machine is broken."

"Did you break it?"

She takes a good hard look at the machine, as if in disbelief, before turning back around. "No, not a chance. It was like this when I got here."

"Yuna, did you break my fucking coffee machine?" you ask again, in dire need of the very thing she's about to deprive you of. 

"What did I just say? It's not broken. Look, if you press this button it comes out with this weird looking water and if you do this—fuck."

This is unbelievable. As if you needed another reason to kick her out the second you're awake, because you know first hand that Yuna should never be allowed in a kitchen. Any kitchen. Not after the burnt chocolate incident. 

"Let me handle this. Before you destroy my kitchen too."

"Hey, rude—I was just trying to be helpful. But you have some weird fucking coffee maker that you need a PhD in three different languages to understand."

She takes a step back, sighing in defeat as you take over and deal with the chaos left behind. "This is why I don't have company in the morning. A pretty girl comes over and immediately tries to burn my entire place to the ground."

There's this surprised gasp that escapes from her lips as you start everything over from scratch, dumping out whatever awful concoction that was brewing earlier.

"Wait, pretty? You think I'm pretty?"

"That's what you're focusing on right now? You really are insufferable," you mutter, with Yuna's eyes fixating on you while she just beams at the compliment. A few adjustments here and there, a fresh pour of water, and the aroma of fresh coffee starts to linger, slowly clearing up the disaster zone Yuna has left behind.

"You didn't answer my question." 

You have nothing in you but an eye roll.

"Yes. You're very pretty," you finally relent, pulling down two mugs from the cabinet above. "I could do worse than waking up to that in my bed. With my ruined coffee machine."

"Hey, it's not ruined, you jerk. It's working now, isn't it?" 

For now. Not the point you want to argue about right now, because you need caffeine in your system more than you ever have. At least you can enjoy a proper cup on the balcony with Yuna, even if that means putting up with her presence. Which maybe isn't as bad as you once thought, given the eye candy alone makes it slightly tolerable. 

Days pass. Uneventful, mostly, without anything much but the occasional lewd text from Yuna at random points throughout the day. Which you'll admit, is preferable to her showing up at your place unannounced, because you think getting off to the nudes she sends without having to hear her whining in person is a much better alternative. 

It's the weekend, and you don't have anything planned that doesn't involve sleeping it all away. An hour at the gym, maybe. Catching up on laundry, cooking yourself a nice dinner—trying that new bottle of wine that's been sitting in your cabinet untouched for months.

But you’ll never get to any of that. 

"Guess who?" 

That’s all Yuna says before forcing her way into the apartment, like she's already expecting to be let in without a second thought. This bright, happy smile on her lips, strutting into the living room in a small little crop top, and these ridiculous white shorts that are tighter than they have any right to be. "I know you missed me. So I'm here to return your shirt. I washed it. Or the dry cleaning people washed it. Doesn't matter."

"Thanks. Just leave it on the counter, and then you can leave."

Yuna frowns, far more offended by this suggestion than any other you've laid out for her. "But you missed me, haven't you? So I'm going to stay for a couple of days, and you're just going to have to suck it up."

So much for peace and quiet. 

“Absolutely the hell not. Don't you have your own apartment to wreck? You're not staying here."

"Why not?" she asks, tossing your shirt on the counter, just like you said. But just as quickly, she takes a seat on the couch and makes herself entirely too comfortable. "My place is a fucking mess, and I'd rather have some company. Plus, you have that really nice bed that's a thousand times more comfortable than anything I own." 

"You're not staying," you reiterate. "Why are you even here? Did you just get done with a dick appointment, so you're coming here now? This isn't a hotel."

Yuna stretches out on the couch, not bothered in the slightest. "No. I haven't been fucked in three days. How crazy is that? We need to catch up, so I figured I would stay with you—"

"We? Try again. I'm sure there's a gangbang going down somewhere, or an orgy you can crash. I am not letting you stay."

"What, is having me in your life such a terrible fate that you'll die if you don't have a moment's peace? A hot girl on your couch and the first thing you think of is getting rid of her?"

"That's exactly right. I have things to do today. important things. Things that don't involve babysitting you."

Yuna cocks her head at you, wide-eyed. "What could you possibly have to do today that's more important than this ass? Huh? Name one thing."

This girl is the definition of exhausting. Trying to tear your attention away from her brazen attitude is harder than it should be, with her figure slumped against the back of the sofa—arms spread wide and long legs extended so invitingly. That top riding higher and higher each time she so much as breathes, offering a full view of her toned abdomen. You can't find the strength or motivation to fight this, when Yuna looks the way she does. And you're certainly no stranger to sleeping with her.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. There are a thousand things more important than giving you attention. Now get off my couch and go find someone else to annoy."

The demand only earns a childish scoff, Yuna folding her arms across her chest. "Oh come on—look, I'll be good. I'll sleep on the couch, I'll cook you breakfast and dinner and clean whatever the hell I mess up. I won't bother you. Promise."

"You're not stepping foot in my kitchen after you almost broke my coffee maker."

"Almost. Keyword, almost," Yuna adds, barely getting to the end of her sentence before standing up and making her way across the living room to your side. "If I can't cook or clean or do anything, how do you suggest I pay you back for letting me stay here, hmm?"

You clench your fists so hard while exhaling, staring daggers into this psuedo-innocent expression that doesn't have any weight behind it. Knowing damn well what those gears turning in her head have planned. 

"Don’t worry, you're not staying here. So there's no need to pay me back." A simple rejection doesn't seem to deter her. It never does. 

She’s no stranger to the word no, but it doesn’t stop her from taking another step forward. And another one, closing the distance between, almost as a test to see how far she can go before the resistance starts. Then she steps back. Only to spin around, those tempting hips and ass pressing right into the crotch of your sweatpants, using the armchair nearby like support to push a little harder. 

And when she's looking like that, the way Yuna throws that devilish look over her bare shoulder while wiggling her ass is such an easy sell, a perfect visual that causes blood to rush down towards your cock. "If you prefer, I could just pull them right off…"

Somewhere deep inside, you want this—to give up this charade and indulge yourself in every inch of her. In that ass you have memorized to every detail, in that perfect fucking cunt that's yours to taste anytime you please. But the second you give in, there's no turning back.

Because you can't keep pretending that you can control yourself around this girl. Every shred of composure you try to have is fleeting when Yuna's there offering herself up on a platter.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've had someone spank my ass? Two weeks? Maybe even three. Nobody hits harder than those big, strong hands. Nobody can put me in my place like you do. And I've been such a bad, bad girl.” 

Staring at the view presented before you, your knees feel a little weak. The things you want to do to this bratty little tease are practically limitless, sending your imagination racing when you follow the curve of her hips. Because maybe it’s about time she got what she deserves. All those handprints, her sensitive flesh just bruised by your palm, the sight of her bent over and spanked relentlessly—maybe her punishment is your reward. 

It's inevitable at this point. And the worst part is, Yuna knows this all too well.

"What are you waiting for? Spank my ass, make it yours. Make it hurt so good. Please."

That please is what does you in. Because you can picture it now, feeling the supple skin of her ass bounce under every smack of your hand, and that high pitched yelp tearing through her throat the second you really put power behind each strike.

It doesn't help those goddamn skintight shorts that hug her ass, a perfect invitation to have your way. 

You sigh under your breath. Because you’ll fold like always, giving in to those desperate pleas. If only to satisfy the lust that builds for Yuna’s tight body. The way your cock will feel buried inside her ass, while you get so rough fucking her. Until she can barely stand on her own two feet anymore.

Fuck. She knows she's already won.

"Fine. You fucking brat. But not here, not on the couch. I'll need a drink for this."

With a final look at her—looking like sin and sex on two legs, you drag her towards the kitchen to look for the strongest thing you have, looking past the bottle of wine that will have to wait. Yuna waits silently by the counter, with that same knowing look in her eye. A look that has no chance to fade even once you pop open a bottle of something to help wash the regret down.

"God, you're going to regret wearing those shorts," you tell her, not bothering with a glass and taking a huge swig straight from the bottle. And then another. 

"I don’t regret a single thing in my life. Now where's mine?" Yuna asks, pout on her lips as she ignores the fact that those shorts are coming off the first chance you get. 

"You're annoying enough sober—you don't get shit until I've had enough to tolerate you." 

She giggles. Which at this point is more infuriating than cute. "So never?" 

Yuna watches the bottle return to your lips for another long sip. You don't even deny that—instead, your eyes are glued to her shapely figure while you wait for the alcohol to kick in. 

"Give me your belt.” 

You slam the bottle down and stare straight ahead at the puzzled look on Yuna's face—but there's no objection. Instead, she complies and unfastens the clasp before sliding the white leather strip right out and handing it over without asking a thing. 

And that's when you do the honors. Unfastening the front button of those ridiculous shorts and tugging the zipper down. Her shorts are so impossibly tight that even after all that, they still take a little extra strength to tug down past the full curve of her ass. But you do manage to peel them down, staring at the tiny scrap of blue cotton and lace that hardly covers a damn thing—what those shorts are concealing beneath, this small string nestled just between her smooth, bare asscheeks. 

“Surprised you even wore panties at all today.” 

“I wore them so you’d rip them off me. It’s no fun if I don’t make you earn it first.”

That cocky little smirk doesn’t falter—not until you grab her ass like it belongs to you, fingers digging in deep, rough enough to make her squirm. Yuna wants to be manhandled, you know that already, so you squeeze harder, spread her wide and knead every inch, marveling at how much of her there is to take.

Her thong barely counts as anything, just a bright blue string that disappears between her cheeks. It's the only thing standing between you and burying deep inside.

"Fuck, I can't wait to feel your hands hurting this ass so fucking hard," Yuna groans, rolling her hips back into your grip. 

You don't respond—because now you've got your teeth hooked into the flimsy fabric of her thong. One swift tug downward snaps the thin fabric and tears right through so you can get right to that incredible ass of hers. No sooner have the scraps of her panties fallen to the kitchen floor before you've got a solid grip on each bare cheek, sinking your teeth in just enough to mark her pale flesh.

Laughing under your breath as you run fingertips across those creamy cheeks, you shake your head in disbelief. "You think I'm going to be using my hands?" you ask while picking up her discarded belt, an almost forgotten strip of leather until this exact moment.

Yuna looks back over her shoulder with the biggest grin.

"We're doing this my way.” 

Dropping your sweatpants right around your ankles for some relief, she can't help but stare at your bulge. And a smile perks up on her lips the instant she catches sight of the leather belt in your tight fist. Surprisingly, Yuna stays silent, even as you test the belt out between the palm of your hand, the crack of leather echoing around the kitchen. "You wanna get spanked? Then you're gonna get spanked. Bad girls don't get a say in this."

"Can't wait," she responds, not obedient, but almost daring as her hands clutch tight to the kitchen counter to brace for the first impact. Neither can you. 

"Eyes forward then, slut," you demand, running the leather down her skin, tracing along every curve until she has no choice but to face away. Before any warning, the satisfying crack of leather connects right against her bare ass, ripping a startled yelp from those bratty lips. A strike so forceful it jolts her body forward and leaves a light imprint on her delicate flesh. 

It puts a smile on your face when you get the same reaction. Another sharp crack cuts through the silence, right against the flesh of her ass with even much force. Another welt, another moan, as this bright red mark begins to form as the color spreads across her flesh. "M-more, please—that stings so fucking good. F-fuck, more."

The next smack sends her hips slamming back into the counter, another strangled noise coming from her mouth right as you hit her harder without thinking. “If it's too much, speak up." 

But the noise she makes is barely coherent. All you can see is the look of excitement on her face as you deliver more stinging slaps to her same cheek, over and over until you've had enough—only switching to the other for an identical treatment and marking the unblemished skin just the same.

"N-never. I love the pain, love the feeling of this belt on my ass—please keep going." Even with the crack in her voice, the smack of leather against bare skin overshadows her cries while you up the ante and show no mercy. 

Over and over with these slaps all over her cheeks, fueled by frustration with Yuna yelping each time you send the belt flying into that sore, marked skin. But she still grinds her hips back at you for more, eager for any ounce of pleasure, and every ounce of pain that comes alongside.

The entire time Yuna stays bent over, loud gasps and pathetic whines for another while these harsh spanks rain down so she can feel the sting that lingers right after. Hard enough to leave her speechless and biting back to not beg you for even worse. She grips the countertop like she'll simply fall over if she doesn't. And after a well-timed hit, you force a break that she doesn't ask for—a moment to collect herself and catch her bearings. A moment to admire the redness that's not going away anytime soon.

"Still want more?" you ask her with a tug at her hair, the belt grazing her tender skin. 

"M-more. Give me everything you fucking have," she can barely breathe out between whimpers, gripping even tighter onto the kitchen counter, so that your next hit to that reddened ass leaves behind an unmistakable imprint on those plump cheeks. "Fucking make it hurt, don't treat me like I can't take it. Harder."

You can certainly oblige her. Harder is exactly what you'll do—each vicious snap of the belt a little more relentless, no pauses between several loud cracks against that aching flesh, causing the most delectable noise as Yuna gasps every single time. Even as you step back, inspecting the artwork you've left on her backside, Yuna is far from satisfied. "I said to fucking make it hurt. But you're holding back on me, stop doing that."

Oh, let her fucking complain. Even with a burning sting on her ass, Yuna can't help but provoke you a bit further, with your grip in her hair tightening. But those slaps only come faster—each vicious hit with the leather cracks over her raw ass, moans muffled as her cheek gets pressed right up against the cold countertop. 

The belt swings wide again, hitting both cheeks at once and making them jiggle, the redness across Yuna's round little ass making a stark contrast against the pure, porcelain skin. And she hears it first before feeling it. 

Another cry of ecstasy that escapes her throat right as the belt brings about more stinging slaps, until you let the folded length of her own belt linger in the air, so she doesn't even know when the next swing will happen. You love nothing more than watching her body tense up—every single nerve on edge knowing another hard smack will come her way the second she even breathes, her reddened ass ready to receive whatever you have left in store for it.

"Like doesn't begin to describe it. I'm fucking crazy for it," she gasps out, when the belt stays far enough away that you give her some sense of relief—until it brushes over the sore, sensitive skin, making the softest touch seem worse than an outright strike. Then it cracks over her cheeks in succession, her thighs clenching together as she takes it. 

"My god, nobody has an ass like this, Shin Yuna. Nobody. Especially now with all these pretty little marks, and those noises you make when I spank you, I could listen to those all fucking day."

You put the belt down and stroke over the red welts from where you may have gone just a little too far, not that Yuna would ever object. She glances back over her shoulder with the biggest smile, even through the tears staining her cheeks.

"That’s as much as you deserve, you desperate little slut.” 

Up her body you wander, pulling her upright and stripping her of that small crop top so your hands have better access. Then straight into the clasp of her bra, cupping her tits once you’ve freed them, kneading with a little force the way you know Yuna loves. 

"I can handle so much more than this, I swear. I could take so much more," Yuna insists with another cute sniffle. The problem is, you know she can. All you have to do is glance between her thighs, and the mess on the tiles tells you enough. 

"I know you can," you breathe in her ear, hand trailing up around her throat until your fingers close tightly around it. Yuna lets out this short and sweet moan in your grasp when you apply more pressure. “But you got what you want. Now it’s my fucking turn.” 

Yuna drips at the thought. There's no sense in resisting her, no point in pretending this wasn't inevitable from the moment she had herself bent over with those tight fucking shorts. You'll give into everything she wants despite pretending to do the opposite. 

"What's that fucking word you keep calling me?" you ask her, the grip around her neck making her thighs clench even harder this time. "Go on."

"D-daddy. That's it. But you said never to—"

"Doesn't apply here. One time, this one time, use it. Use it while I'm shoving my cock in your needy little asshole, understand?"

"Yes—I fucking understand. Y-yes, daddy. Just this once."

A quick release of her throat so Yuna can turn her body in your direction, the tears in those alluring eyes yet to dry up. Your free hand palms over her ass once again, getting a nice, possessive squeeze as a reward for everything she's endured already.

"My ass fucking hurts," she says, laughing it off between shaky breaths and the occasional sniffle. "G-god, this belt fucking hurt more than your hand ever could."

"Are you complaining or bragging?" you ask as your lips meet, hot breath against one another as her slender fingers grasp against the hem of your shirt, up and off within seconds so she can slide her fingers up and down your bare chest. 

"What do you think?" 

Your boxers come off last, not even hitting the ground before Yuna is stroking your stiff cock with this playful expression on her features. Then it's in her grip the entire time you walk her down the hallway and into the bedroom. As expected, she can't keep her hands off of you for more than a second, right up to when the bed frame hits the back of her knees and the only option is falling back onto the mattress.

"God, Yuna, the things I'm going to do to you—the ways I'll ruin you." With her legs spread wide, and thighs glistening with arousal, you get to indulge in the view while Yuna plays with her clit in lazy, drawn-out circles.

“Need you in my ass, daddy—need it now. Isn't that clear?" Oh, how unexpected that she’s going to abuse the permission of that one single word. 

"I can assure you the feeling is mutual," you insist, and join her on the edge of the mattress, taking her hips and flipping her over until she's lying right on her stomach with that sore, marked ass up on display, raised up off the mattress.

She props herself up on her elbows so she’s in position, right in the center of the bed. The sight is perfection—this shameless, insatiable fucktoy, sprawled across your bed with her legs parted, knees sunk into the bed, ready and waiting for you. 

Just as she opens her mouth to say something, you bury your face into those pillowy cheeks, the tip of your tongue swirling against her tight fucking asshole.

"F-fuuuck, it's been so long since I've had your tongue in my ass, daddy," Yuna moans, your spit lubricating her puckered hole all over, the softness of her cheeks pressing deep against your face as she tries to grind back. You shove your tongue deeper, tasting, savoring everything—eating her ass like it's the only reason you let her stay here tonight. The reason why you even opened the front door.

There's nothing better than the unfiltered moans while you plunge your tongue deep into the depths of her asshole, face first against it and greedy, spreading her wide apart while you slip in, those cries of pleasure getting higher. 

You taste—no, you devour her, tongue exploring, thrusting in and out of that tight little ring that clenches around each swipe. This delicious tongue-fuck that gets better the more desperate Yuna sounds, writhing around your sheets and pushing back, all in hopes to keep your mouth where it belongs. 

"This ass belongs to me," you remind her, a harsh slap on the still reddened flesh to make the pleasure even better. 

Yuna spreads her cheeks wider so you can plunge as deep as possible, so you can hear her delicious moans as your spit covers her glistening hole. One long, sloppy lick in and out, tongue so deep in her asshole that all she can do is whimper helplessly for more. 

"D-don't act like you didn't miss this," she says, still as cocky as ever through a breathless groan of satisfaction. Your tongue teases one last time, a thumb replacing it to press into the ring of muscle that's already relaxed, seeing how easy it is to sink into.

She’s more than ready, but you need one more taste before grabbing the lube so you can slide a wet digit right inside the puckered hole of Yuna's ass—fingering her the same way you've done countless times already. 

She's tight, of course, that’s a given, but even as a finger curls inside, this grip around your finger won’t begin to compare once your cock is in the same place. Two fingers is the limit, plunging them deep enough to stretch Yuna just enough so your cock will slide right in. "Only I get to fucking pound your asshole, yeah?"

"O-oh fuck, it's only you, daddy. Nobody else, nobody but you, I promise—your cock in my ass, right where it belongs. J-just you." 

Your fingers finally pop out, and instead the slick, swollen head of your cock is pushing into the tightest, most inviting hole—one long, deep thrust right up until the base, so her asshole can swallow every last inch in a single motion. 

Yuna clutches the sheets so tight, arching her back to push that ass up into the air. She's so tight that you can't even fathom it, this delicious clench around everything stuffed to the hilt—and there's nothing like this. Nobody gets this privilege, you believe. Nobody gets to indulge in the luxury of fucking Yuna's perfect, tight little asshole. Not a single person but you gets to make her moan quite this way. 

"Stop wasting time and fuck my ass. Pound me, p-please. Don't make me fucking beg." 

So much for savoring any of it. You sink your fingers right into her ridiculous hips, gripping her harder than usual to drag her backwards onto your cock. Hard enough to force this groan out of her—so needy and pathetic in the midst when your hips meet her bare ass. A brief moment to take it all in, before sliding almost entirely back and rocking forward with full force. 

"Oh my fucking god—my ass feels so full, shit—"

She's barely breathing between words, and you don't intend on helping her out in that regard at all when you're too busy staring at her red, tender cheeks, loving how they jiggle with every rock of your hips.

“Did you expect anything else?" you ask while giving her a good, harsh slap to that same spot where red is still clear as can be. With such a good view, it's impossible to do anything other than drive deep and begin pounding her mercilessly. "A pathetic fucking slut like you deserves nothing but a rough fuck. And that's what you're gonna get." 

Yuna does little but spew moans and throw her head back when your cock buries deep in her ass. This tightness never gets old, your hips on a mission to bury in her and hit all the places Yuna loves, enough to get her drooling all over your pillows. But her asshole—as snug, warm, and irresistible as it is, you can’t fathom how hard she squeezes every time you drill forward, showing no signs of restraint.

"S-so good," she lets out through short gasps, her face buried in the pillows and her teeth biting your sheets hard. “Love when you treat me like a fucking toy, daddy—"

"Yuna, that's exactly what you are," you tell her while you're so deep in her ass it's almost overwhelming. "So tight, I'll never stop pounding you, fuck. Tightest little hole I've ever fucked."

Yuna glances over her shoulder, while you get a good, tight grip on her hair and tug so she clenches harder, with every stroke balls fucking deep—as rough as you think she needs it. Even as the sound of your cock reaming her ass echoes throughout the entire room, nothing could possibly be enough. 

Your unrelenting, deep thrusts into Yuna's asshole cause the whole damn bed to creak from the violent force of your strokes, pulling her hair harder for that extra roughness she loves. 

No break, not the slightest pause until you absolutely have to—because you could do this all day and not grow tired of the way Yuna moans or how her cheeks bounce when you slam into them. Those cheeks that you get a tight handful of—palms full, and dig your fingers in for some leverage while your thrusts turn animalistic, barely in control at this point. 

But Yuna can take it, you can see it in that fucked out expression. The pleasure written all over her features while her mouth falls open as you show her no mercy—spreading her ass just so you can marvel at your cock hammering in and out, stretched out so wide around you.

"So good, g-god, so deep, love how deep your cock goes," Yuna can barely get out, like it takes all the energy out of her. You know you're not anywhere near wearing her out, not while watching your dick destroy her asshole.

"Not enough?" 

“N-not even fucking close. Give me all you've got, come on," she pleads for in this broken, muffled whine with her face shoved so far against your sheets she can barely breathe. 

Another deep thrust, enough force behind that slams the bed against the wall, loud enough to compete with the sound of her ass slapping against your hips. And when you draw back again, you grab her delicate little wrists, pulling her arms behind her back and using them as leverage—so Yuna can't do anything at all but let her asshole get wrecked.

"More, more—keep fucking pounding my tight ass, come on. D-don't stop, daddy. You know I'm fucking addicted to this fat cock," Yuna pleads so pathetically, immobile and helpless, taking whatever comes next with her arms hostage and your cock impaling her to the hilt.

Your hips do exactly that. Fucking her ass in quick strokes until all she does is cry out for you to destroy her, and then some. Yuna takes everything, the groans and yelps when you give no chance for recovery, the thrusts so deep and noises more depraved by the second. Her wrists pinned by the small of her back so she doesn't even have the chance of touching her swollen clit.

"That cock in my ass feels so fucking amazing. Oh my fucking god, fuck me, fuck my asshole as deep as possible."

When you yank her body back, your hands stay locked around her wrists with enough force for her to gasp. But you’re too busy pummeling her ass to even get a word out—too focused on that impossible tightness wrapped around your cock, the  perfect grip around every inch like it's trying to force you to cum.

"Better get used to this, slut. My cock is going to keep wrecking your tight little ass over and over again for the next two days. And maybe even longer if you really deserve it."

Her wrists go free, only for your hands to find her delicious hips again, slamming back in and using all the momentum to crash into Yuna as hard as your body can muster—until she's pinned flat onto your mattress, trapped right under you without a single break between the thrusts that hit at a different angle. 

With your legs spread on either side of her, your torso stays flat against her naked back, keeping your weight right down over her small frame. The bed shakes each time you enter the deepest parts of her ass, every single stroke her greedy hole swallows up and demands even more than you can possibly offer. 

"That's it, j-just like that. Just keep fucking my ass, love the way that you ruin it—"

"Yuna—" You bring a harsh smack down across her reddened, sore cheek to really punctuate each thrust. "You think I wouldn’t when your ass is squeezing my cock so fucking good?"

Every bit of movement between the two of you happens right where your skin is pressed against hers—sweat on her body indistinguishable from the sweat on yours. Hands around her hips so you can keep a nice, possessive grip while you relentlessly drive forward to pound her body into your mattress, no chance of lasting much longer now. Not with the way you're drilling her, no chance at all.

And yet, you can't tear your eyes away from how her ass looks getting pounded, bouncing every time your hips make contact with the reddened cheeks of her ass.

"If you fuck me any harder, you might actually break this bed," Yuna gasps out, laughter still coming to her lips despite how ruined and breathless she is. That sounds like a good option, if you can’t help it, no matter how rough you need to be with her. Yuna is beyond that—insatiable and incapable of getting satisfied for very long at all, the way most people would. 

But that doesn't mean you won't give your all for this performance. So you get back on your knees, getting each hand full of Yuna's plump ass, sinking your fingertips as much as humanly possible to watch your cock destroy this perfect girl. 

"Then I'll keep going, until we've destroyed my entire goddamn bedroom. That's how much I love pounding your ass."

She just giggles until a moan replaces it, lost in all these noises. You won't stop, not if your legs give out from exhaustion. Every hard and deep thrust has your eyes fixed upon where your hips meet those decadent cheeks. With Yuna face down on her stomach, there’s no better view to watch how well your cock stretches her hole open. 

"You're getting there, I can feel it," she taunts. You hate that you can’t even see her face, but you know she’s grinning. Smug little brat. "Go ahead, fill this tight, little asshole. Use it until you cum."

And she just gets you so riled up, that it's inevitable, as soon as those words leave Yuna's mouth. "I cannot believe I went this long without my cock inside you. When you say it out loud, it just sounds—"

"Crazy? Come on. I know it drove you crazy. The only time you're actually fucking happy is when this big dick is buried in my ass. Not just inside some random girl who's not me, or a warm mouth who's not mine."

God, do you hate when she's right. Hate it with every fiber of your being, but you don't even have time to think about anything else, because these soft cheeks you're palming so hard is the thing that's about to break you first. That same voice that you can't stand on most days, is what helps you unravel—what brings you to that delirious edge and drives your hips with full force for these last few deep thrusts that rattle the bed. 

You start to lose full control, snapping your hips a little too fast, once, twice—before finally bottoming out with her name on your lips and erupting deep inside her ass. It's unstoppable, filling her with your thick, messy release in each deep throb when your cock pumps Yuna full, her asshole accepting it with each final burst of tightness.

"There you go, fucking cum in my ass," Yuna moans out as those harsh clenches milk everything out of you. You ride that high for as long as possible, each furious thrust pumping your seed deep inside, each hammering her body into the mattress—again and again until your balls have nothing left. 

Even after then, your hips don’t cease, fucking the rest of your load deeper inside her tight, filled hole. You can already see your release trickling out, her ass stuffed too full and overflowing with your cum already. "F-fuck, there's so fucking much, it's so thick—oh my god, daddy came so much…” 

Yuna sighs out into the silence, while you're left holding those sore cheeks to catch your breath. Both of you struggling to recover. 

"That's like, several days worth of cum in your ass," you say, dragging your spent cock out of her to get a good look, holding her cheeks spread apart as it flows in a thick mess between her thighs. Your fingers slide right into that gaping, ruined asshole, pushing back whatever cum threatens to drip out.

"Jesus, Yuna. Look at how much is spilling out. Was worried I actually broke you there for a moment when you're this tight."

"Nope. Still perfect. And it's still not enough," Yuna says, insatiable as ever. Only then do you start to peel yourself off of her, her worn-out body a complete sweat-covered mess.

“Too bad. You fucking drained me dry, you greedy slut."

Yuna laughs, and when she rolls over on her back to face you, she's the image of perfection: hair matted all against her forehead with sweat, makeup a bit smeared, her lips and cheeks redder than usual—ruined but still absolutely stunning.

“Like you could ever run out. Not when I'm around…” 

Yuna shifts right in front of you until she's directly in front of your gaze and kneeling between your legs. She smiles up at you and her mouth gets right back on your throbbing, sensitive cockhead. Each obscene slurp makes it a little harder to convince yourself that she shouldn't be staying for the weekend, because you might not ever let her leave. While not a day goes by without you hating her guts, not a day goes by without wanting to pin her up against a wall and fuck her senseless.

Her mouth slides deep, cleaning off everything, and her lips, her tongue running against the slit, and the cute expression the whole time, god—this girl is going to be the death of you.

She drags her tongue in slow, gentle swipes around the head, sucking every single drop clean and looking for more. There's not a single bit of reluctance—her wet mouth eagerly cleaning up your shaft in long strokes. Then she slides both hands around your hips and shoves you back, knocking you off balance until you hit the mattress. Yuna doesn’t give you a second to recover, already between your legs again. 

Now you're the helpless one, that hot little mouth working to fit the entire thick length down her throat. You don't even care about the overstimulation, not with this view of Yuna bobbing her head, those lips sealed tight. 

"Fuck, you’re crazy—“ you let out, running fingers through her messy hair, while Yuna ignores you and devours your spent cock, balls deep down her throat until she gags the slightest bit.

"You love it, though. Because it means you’re gonna fuck me harder now.” 

Maybe you do regret ever opening the door for her and letting her inside your apartment to ruin her. Or maybe you're the one ruined instead. You're not entirely sure at this point. 

"You're gonna have to wait, not everything is at full capacity yet." Yuna cocks her head to the side, stopping her full strokes so she can crawl up and get comfortable on top of you, until you're face to face, inches apart. 

"Daddy got too worn out pounding my ass? Is that my fault?"

All you have the energy for is to brush away strands of her disheveled hair out of the way, so you can stare at her gorgeous face. "Yes. And you can stop calling me that. One time thing, remember?"

Yuna giggles. "No—one time won't be enough. You know I like saying it."

You can’t even hide the sigh that escapes. But you should have known better, you suppose, for letting the floodgates open and allowing her that one time. Now you'll never hear the end of it, and it's going to be rolling off her lips the next time she begs you to fuck her again.

"You'll never listen to anything I say ever, will you?"

You already know the answer to that. But you’ll still indulge in her lips, this unexpected soft kiss after all the roughness. After all the debauchery of tonight, it’s what you both need. 

"Definitely not," Yuna replies, eyes wide and bright. “You’re just gonna have to find a way to shut me up—daddy."

You hate that word with a passion, you'd hate it if you were to hear anyone else say it to you—but for some reason, hearing that coming from those pouty lips, you hate even more that you might grow to love it the same amount. "You get to stay the weekend, and not a minute longer. Got it?"

There's this knowing glint in her eyes, all too confident that you'll break and think otherwise. "Don't be so sure about that. After one more night, you'll be begging me to stay an entire month. Begging me."

A roll of your eyes, and a laugh that’s far too loud escapes, because in truth, she's most certainly right. It's this push and pull between wanting her far away and wanting her around more than ever.

"Yuna, don't push your fucking luck," you warn, the last remnants of trying to distract from the truth.

"It's a little late for that, don't you think? I've pushed far past my limit. Might as well just start moving my things here."

That's a step too far. You'll fuck her brains out as many times as she needs, you'll even allow her to sleep in your bed for as many nights as she wants. This is already too domestic for your liking, but the thought of her staying here without giving you a moment's break? You'd rather perish.

"Absolutely fucking not. Don't even joke about that, Yuna."

"I was kidding," she insists, playing with the locks of your hair, not bothered at all by the agony on your face. "I'm here to get dicked down, that's it. I don't need to take over your whole apartment just to make sure my asshole is stretched." 

"Jesus, Yuna. Why the fuck are you so—"

"Insatiable? Hot? Good at deepthroating you until you explode down my throat? Because it's fun to see you get so flustered, daddy." 

Another one slips past her lips. You're just going to have to live with it at this point, she's so obsessed getting a reaction out of you, and you make it so easy for her. "Fuck off, I do not get flustered. And you need to stop saying that."

"No fucking chance. I'm going to call you that every single time you pound me. I'm going to scream it while you shove my face into your pillows and fuck the shit out of me, while you fold me up and choke me, get me on my knees and gag me until I'm drooling—"

"Yuna, I am not fucking you for at least another hour. Maybe even two."

"That's fine. We don't have to fuck at all, because my ass still fucking hurts,” she says, letting out a noise somewhere near a giggle and a sigh all at once. “I'm going to feel those welts you left on me forever, that belt made my ass so fucking sore that I'm surprised I can even walk. Just thinking about it makes me fucking drip—“

"Could you be any bigger of a slut than you already are?" 

Yuna shakes her head, this soft smile as if your insults only spur her on, as they seem to do. "Never. Not even if I tried." 

[hangmanwrites]

freeze me, baby ━ johnny storm (part one)

gif credits: @yellenabelova requested by: anon word count: 5,721 words pairing: johnny storm x fem!reader synopsis: you’re hired to babysit franklin, but johnny’s the real handful. he’s all fire, you’re all ice, and somehow that just makes things worse. or better. depends who you ask. content warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, elemental metaphors, emotional repression, accidental parenting, johnny being an idiot (affectionate), you being cold (literally), tension, soft kid moments, mild jealousy, powers mentioned (fire, ice), eventual feelings author's note: i haven’t watched the fantastic four: first steps or whatever version johnny belongs to this time, so i just went off what i could find on the marvel site and hoped for the best lmao. massive thank you to the anon who requested this, i had way too much fun. enjoy!! part two masterlist

“Johnny, what are the rules again?”

He groans, tilting his head back like he’s begging for help, tired of being treated like he can’t handle anything alone. Sure, last time Franklin floated the kitchen table and the toaster caught fire but that was because Johnny tried making grilled cheese with his hands again. Still, he’s fine now, grown-up, and Sue needs to stop acting like he’s still setting towels on fire for fun.

He starts reciting the list anyway, because if he doesn’t, she’ll recite it for him and that’s worse, so he says it with the kind of bored drawl that makes her scowl, like he’s been through this enough times to memorise it but still refuses to take it seriously, which is kind of true.

“No fire near the baby, don’t let him fly, don’t call him a baby because he’s sensitive about that now, no horror movies, no junk food before dinner, don’t let him time travel again, make sure he naps at three even though he never does, and absolutely no floating stuff on purpose just because it looks cool, which it does, and honestly, if I had powers at two, I’d be showing off all the time—”

“Johnny.”

“I know,” he says, holding up his hands, which is kind of ironic because they’re literally the most flammable part of him, “I got it, I swear, he’s two, he’s practically made of giggles and yoghurt, how hard can it be?”

Sue just stares at him, that kind of bone-deep tired look she gets whenever he opens his mouth too confidently, the one that says she loves him but also kind of wants to throw a cushion at his face, and he’s pretty sure she would if she didn’t already have her hands full with Franklin, who’s currently holding a plush dinosaur by the leg and quietly making it hover in circles behind her head.

He grins. Franklin’s a legend.

“Seriously, though,” he says, lowering his voice a bit, “why even get a babysitter if I’m gonna be here the whole time? Like, c’mon, I’ve got this, I’ve got a whole plan, it’s quality bonding time, me and the kid, uncle-nephew vibes, he already knows I’m the fun one–”

“She’s not for him, Johnny.”

And that’s not Sue’s voice anymore, that’s Reed, who’s just now walked in like he’s been lurking around the corner this whole time waiting to drop one sentence and ruin Johnny’s entire afternoon, and he says it in that flat, painfully logical tone like it’s just a neutral statement of fact, but Johnny blinks, jaw open just a fraction, because it takes him a solid three seconds to even register what the hell that means.

“...What?”

Reed looks at him as though he’s explaining a maths problem to someone who doesn’t know how to count.

“The babysitter is for you.”

And Johnny genuinely short-circuits, like, full mental blue screen. He blinks again, steps forward, then scoffs like he’s trying to laugh it off, but his voice cracks halfway through because what the actual fuck does that even mean.

“You got me a–? I’m sorry, is this–? Did you seriously–” he cuts himself off, flings a hand at Franklin like that somehow proves his point, “he’s two! I’m twenty-eight! I’ve fought aliens! I’ve saved people! You think I can’t handle my own nephew without needing backup?”

Reed just lifts an eyebrow, calm as ever, as Franklin makes the plush dinosaur nose-dive into Johnny’s hair like a soft toy assassination. Sue mutters something about good luck and three days of peace, then walks out with her bag over one shoulder.

Johnny stands in the living room, offended on every level, mouthing “babysitter?” to no one, like the insult has actually hurt him.

He doesn’t even know who you are yet, but he already hates you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ───

Johnny Storm does not hate you.

He just hates how the door slid open and you walked out like it was nothing, like the lights didn’t shift brighter when you stepped in, like the security panel hadn’t just announced you like a top-secret government file, and okay, he wasn’t expecting fireworks or anything, wasn’t expecting the babysitter to be hot, but seriously, no one warned him, no one said Sue and Reed had hired the most frozen, unreadable, unfairly beautiful woman alive and then let her casually exist in their living room like that wouldn’t destroy his mental stability on the spot.

You didn’t even look at him, and that’s what got him most, just walked past with your long sleeves, gloves, and perfect face like he wasn’t there. Maybe he’s used to people noticing him, liking the attention, but you didn’t care, moved like this high-tech fortress was nothing, picked up Franklin like it was routine, sat down like you belonged, and Johnny was left standing by the fancy coffee machine, wondering when he lost control of the whole day.

And you didn’t even look at him, didn’t say hi or smile or give him one of those fake polite nods people use to be civil, you just moved past him like he wasn’t there, not rude, just… neutral, like he didn’t matter, and he should be annoyed about that, really, but instead he’s just watching you sit there like a statue made of calm while Franklin plays like the world’s not ending, like you’re the only thing holding the entire room steady.

You’ve still got the gloves on, which is weird, right, because the building’s climate-controlled and you’re not outside and there’s nothing dangerous or disgusting around. Let’s just say that he’s confused as hell as of the moment.

He should probably say something, really, because standing here like he’s waiting for divine intervention is pathetic, and you still haven’t looked at him, not once, like he’s invisible or irrelevant or just not worth noticing, which is actually insane because he’s Johnny Storm, he glows, literally, and sure, he’s not glowing right now but he’s still not exactly background furniture.

You’re just sitting on the floor with Franklin tucked against you, quiet and still, watching him line up his toys like it’s the most important thing in the world, and you haven’t even looked at Johnny, haven’t said a single word, and it’s so stupid that that’s what’s getting to him, that you’re not even trying and somehow he feels fifteen again, fluttery and awkward and weirdly desperate to say something just so you’ll look at him.

But then he blinks, like actually pauses for a second, and it hits him all at once, that he’s Johnny Storm, he’s Johnny Storm, and why the hell is he nervous about talking to a woman, why is he hesitating, why is he standing here doubting himself like he’s not literally the Human Torch, like he doesn’t know how to flirt, like he hasn’t made a career out of charming people who are way more intimidating than you, no offence, but come on, this is actually ridiculous.

So, obviously, he walks over. He leans on the back of the sofa, casual, confident, or at least pretending to be, grinning a little, even though his heartbeat is doing something annoying, like he’s expecting you to throw a knife at him or roll your eyes or just ignore him completely again, which honestly might be worse.

“So, hey,” he says, trying to sound relaxed, even though his voice comes out a little too bright, “you, uh, always wear gloves indoors, or is that just a fashion thing?”

You don’t answer, which he could’ve predicted, but still, it’s a bit jarring, the way you keep your eyes on Franklin like Johnny’s voice didn’t even reach you, like the sound waves just died halfway through the air and fell flat between you, and he almost laughs, not because it’s funny but because he’s never been blanked this hard in his life and he’s not sure if he respects it or wants to set something on fire just to make a point.

He pushes off the sofa, moves around to the arm of it so you’re at least facing him now, sort of, even if you’re not looking up, and he keeps going, because at this point he’s committed.

“You know, you don’t have to be nervous,” he says, biting back a smirk, “I know I’m incredibly handsome and famous and whatever, but I promise I’m not scary, unless you hate fun, which, honestly, you kind of seem like you might.”

And that’s when you look at him. Finally! It was long enough to register that he exists, long enough to let him feel like maybe he got through to you even a little, but your face doesn’t change, your expression doesn’t even twitch, and you say, voice cool and even like you’re just stating a fact and not absolutely destroying him in the process,

“Confidence and delusion look really similar when you talk too much.”

And Johnny blinks. Actually, visibly blinked as though his brain shorted out for a second and had to restart the whole system from scratch.

He laughs, too loud and way too quick, because that definitely hit him somewhere it wasn’t supposed to, but he’s not about to let you know that, so he just laughs like it’s funny, like he’s used to people saying mean shit with their pretty little mouths and their cold little voices, except he’s absolutely not used to it, not like that, not from someone who still hasn’t even smiled at him.

“Okay,” he says, hand over his chest like ouch, trying to grin through it even though something sharp got wedged in his ribs just now, “so you do speak, I was starting to think maybe you’d taken a vow of silence or just didn’t believe in interacting with people hotter than you, which, honestly, fair, it must be overwhelming.”

You don’t even pause, and you say, voice flat as anything, “I’ve had migraines that were less persistent than you.”

And that one he feels, like physically feels it, like something tightens behind his eye and he’s pretty sure his left eyebrow actually twitches, and he doesn’t know whether to be impressed or offended or aroused or all three, because no one’s ever talked to him like that before, not seriously, not without some teasing edge, and you weren’t teasing, you were done, like the conversation was already over before it even began.

And then, Franklin giggles. A soft, chaotic toddler laugh breaks the tension, and you turn to him like that’s all that matters, easing as you help unstick his dinosaur. Johnny stands ignored, watching you slip into toddler-mode while he tries to gather his dignity from the expensive floor.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ───

To be fair, Johnny is absolutely having a crisis. A small one, sure, but still very real, and entirely your fault, which feels wildly unfair because you haven’t even done anything this time you’re just being good at this, weirdly good, absurdly competent in a way that makes him feel useless in his own family, standing off to the side like some decorative uncle while you handle Franklin like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You didn’t flinch when Franklin dumped the blocks, just calmly sorted them by colour and got him building. You remembered his snack rules, let him bounce on the sofa but stopped him with a soft, steady tone that made him say “okay” like it was law. You didn’t look smug, just like you cared and were doing your job.

Franklin’s settled in your lap, calm and content as you read some terrible book about a bear who can’t sleep, and Johnny’s across the room, forgotten and jealous, unsure what to do.

He should be the fun uncle, the one Franklin calls for dinosaur noises, but the kid keeps pointing at you, saying “her”, like you belong here. You don’t even seem pleased, just calm.

Then Johnny understands why Franklin prefers you, it’s not just snacks or stuffed animal facts, it’s how you never make him feel small. You’re calm, steady, almost cold but safe, like steel beneath all that quiet. You don’t flinch or panic at his meltdowns, you just wait, and somehow that’s exactly what Franklin trusts. Johnny never thought cold could feel comforting, but maybe it does.

Sure, Johnny was hot, literally and metaphorically. He was fun, he was awesome, he could light up a room and make people laugh and entertain a crowd without even trying, and he was used to being the centre of attention everywhere he went, never really minded the chaos or the fact that he was probably a bit too much sometimes, but maybe that was exactly why Franklin always looked at him like he didn’t quite know what to make of him, like he liked the idea of Johnny but wasn’t sure how to keep up.

And you… you never asked the kid to keep up. You just sat with him, and Franklin trusted that more than anything Johnny had ever done, and Johnny doesn’t know why that makes something twist in his chest, but it does, it really does.

And now it’s day two, and you’re late, or maybe just later than you were yesterday, and Johnny’s not exactly freaking out, not technically, but also what the hell, where are you, because Franklin has been crying his eyes out for the last fifteen minutes and it’s only getting worse with time, not better, not even a little, and Johnny’s already tried everything.

Dancing, jokes, a fireball shaped like a duck (which somehow made him cry harder), even breaking into Sue’s emergency stash of kid-approved biscuits that he is absolutely not supposed to touch and none of it is working.

The kid just keeps wailing and kicking and saying “her” like you’re some kind of living, breathing security blanket, and Johnny is really trying, he is, but now Franklin’s starting to get warm, visibly warm, warm in a way that makes the air around him shimmer like it’s warping at the edges.

And Johnny’s definitely sweating now, not from the heat but from the panic crawling up the back of his neck, because what if this is it, what if the kid’s powers are about to do something, what if he freaks out so hard he floats, or explodes, or bends the walls into spaghetti?

“Okay, okay, bud, it’s alright, she’s coming, she’ll be here soon, I swear,” Johnny says, crouched in front of Franklin like he knows what he’s doing, hands held out like he’s trying to calm a wild animal instead of a two-year-old with probably god-level reality-warping powers, and honestly, it might be the same thing.

And all Johnny can think is where the fuck are you?

Then, finally, you walk in. No knock, no rush, just the door sliding open like you were meant to arrive right then, and Johnny feels his knees nearly give out, his whole body forgetting how to stand because thank god, you’re here, finally here.

Maybe he should be angry you’re late, maybe say something dramatic like “do you know what I’ve been through,” but all he can manage is a half-breath that slips out like a prayer, because Franklin’s still crying, but the moment he sees you, something changes.

You’re still in all those ridiculous layers, the jacket, the gloves, the long sleeves like the Baxter Building is buried in a snowstorm and not, in fact, a perfectly climate-controlled lab fortress, and Johnny still doesn’t get it, still thinks you’re hiding something, still spirals every time he remembers you probably sleep in gloves, but right now none of that matters, because Franklin is reaching for you with those tiny, red, tear-streaked hands like you’re the only person left on the planet who knows how to hold him properly, and you just let out this tired sigh like you were expecting it, already pulling off your jacket.

And it’s strange, because Johnny’s never seen you without it, not even yesterday when Franklin spilled juice all over you and you stayed in it like it was nothing, but now it’s gone, folded neatly over your arm, and he catches a glimpse of skin between your gloves and sleeves your forearms, pale and smooth and not literally sharp but somehow still cold-looking, like even your skin doesn’t remember what warmth feels like.

You step forward and Johnny, still holding the screaming toddler, shifts to pass him to you, and it’s quick, just a moment, just a brush of your arm against his, but fuck it burns. Not like fire. Not like anything he’s used to. It’s the kind of cold that stings, that bites deep, that makes every cell in his body pull back without knowing why, and he flinches without meaning to, lets out a quiet hiss that’s halfway between pain and surprise, and you blink at him but say nothing, like you were expecting that too.

He stares at you, stares at the spot on his arm where your skin touched his, like he’s trying to convince himself he imagined it, like maybe that weird sharp tingle wasn’t real, but it’s still there, faint but insistent, a strange sort of burn that doesn’t feel hot at all, just cold and electric and deeply wrong in a way he can’t quite explain, and he’s about to ask something, about to blurt out what the hell was that, but then Franklin shifts in your arms and wraps himself around your neck, face pressed into your shoulder, and the crying starts to ease.

Not all at once, not completely, but it softens enough that the air feels lighter, like whatever had been wound so tightly inside the kid just let go, and Johnny watches it happen in real time, watches his nephew melt against you like you’ve been holding him since the day he was born.

And then you look up at him. You tilt your head a little and ask, “Why is he crying?” 

Johnny blinks, caught off guard by how unbothered you sound. “I— I don’t know,” he says, and it comes out more defensive than he wants it to, like he’s being accused of something, like this is an interrogation instead of just a really shit afternoon. “I did everything right, I think, I fed him, he ate all of it, even the weird yoghurt stuff Reed makes, I gave him water, I changed him, I played the dancing fruits video like six times, and I swear he was laughing earlier, and then he just started crying out of nowhere, and I didn’t— I mean, I tried, alright?”

You’re not looking at him anymore.

You’re looking at Franklin now, properly focused, like you’re scanning for damage he didn’t catch, and Johnny knows it’s not personal, but god, it’s irritating, the way you cut him off with your silence, like whatever he’s saying doesn’t matter.

You lean closer, glance at Franklin’s mouth, and let out a quiet sigh, not dramatic, not loud, just tired and real and a little resigned.

“He’s teething,” you say, like that explains everything.

And Johnny immediately panics, because that doesn’t explain everything to him, and what does that even mean, is that bad, is that something that’s meant to happen or something that needs to be fixed, and he leans forward like this has suddenly turned into a medical emergency.

“He’s what? That’s bad, right? Should I call Sue? Do we need ice or something or, like, a baby dentist—”

But you’re already moving, not storming off or rushing out, just drifting past him like he’s not even there, easing down onto the sofa with Franklin still curled into you, still clinging like you’re the only person who knows how to hold him right.

Johnny stays frozen, watching you settle like this is something you’ve done a hundred times, the way your arms fold around Franklin, the way your hand moves over his back so carefully, so calmly, like you’re trying to ease something out of him. 

And then you pause and start taking off your gloves. Johnny freezes immediately.

It’s not even dramatic, it just happens all at once, the way his lungs stop pulling air for a second, like his body registered something important before his brain caught up, because he hasn’t seen your hands before, not even for a second, and he knows that shouldn’t matter, he knows it’s weird to care, but somehow it does, and all he can do is stare while you peel them off, slow and methodical, one finger at a time like you’ve done it a thousand times before.

And your hands were kind of pale, more than he expected, and your fingers are long and sharp-looking, not in a dangerous way but in a precise kind of way, and even without the gloves they still look cold, like you’ve been out in the snow and haven’t fully thawed, like your skin doesn’t quite know what warmth is supposed to feel like.

You lean forward, steady and quiet, your arms moving with the kind of calm that shouldn’t belong in a moment like this, and Johnny can’t even process how weird that is before it gets worse, because the second your bare hands touch Franklin’s cheeks, the crying just stops, no slow breathing or hiccuping or gradual calm-down, it just vanishes, like it was never even there to begin with, and Johnny stands there with his heart in his throat because what the fuck.

He’s still watching, still frozen, mouth slightly open and hands half-lifted in useless confusion, and Franklin just melts into your chest, eyes fluttering, fingers curling into your top, his tiny shoulders relaxing in this way that makes Johnny’s whole body tense, because how the hell did you do that, how are you doing that, what are you even doing??

And you don’t say anything at first, which somehow makes it worse, because you’re still looking down at the toddler like this is normal, like this is your job, like this is just another day and not a full-blown psychic sedative moment, and Johnny is still standing uselessly in the middle of the room like he doesn’t know how to function, because honestly he doesn’t.

He tries to speak, forces the words out even though they feel stuck in the back of his throat, like his brain’s trying to catch up with everything all at once and failing. “What—what did you just do?”

You don’t look up. You’re still holding Franklin’s face gently, carefully, watching him breathe through the end of his meltdown like it’s just any other day.

You’re calm again, even colder now that the crying’s stopped, even quieter, and Johnny’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating the way the temperature in the room shifted the second you walked in, like there’s an invisible force field around you that makes everything settle, including his very not-settled brain.

“I can manipulate temperature,” you say, flat, like you’re reciting it from some handbook, like it’s just your job description and not the most insane thing he’s heard all month. “Or, well—more accurately, kinetic energy. I can slow particles down, freeze motion. You get the idea.”

“No,” Johnny says, fully lost, hands waving a little like that’ll help the words make sense, “no, I don’t get the idea. That sounded like science and I am historically very bad at science so you do what? Freeze stuff?”

You finally glance at him. Your eyes flick toward him like they’re annoyed to acknowledge him again, like you’re doing it under protest.

“Cryokinesis,” you say, a little sharper, a little louder, like you’re repeating yourself because he’s slow. “It means I can lower the heat. Pull it out of a space, a person. I can freeze surfaces. Cool people down when they’re overheating. Which is what Franklin needed. He’s in pain, he’s teething, and you’re holding him with a body temperature of a goddamn microwave.”

Johnny blinks, takes that in, immediately a little offended. “Okay, rude.”

You ignore him. You brush your thumb against Franklin’s cheek and adjust the toddler’s weight against your chest like you’ve done it a hundred times, like this is normal, like you didn’t just casually say you can control temperature like it’s not the most insane thing anyone’s ever dropped mid-conversation.

He stares, still confused, and still not computing. “So you’re like a cold person? In the powers way not just in the... general vibe.”

You sigh, slow and tired. Then you finally look at him properly, that same blank, bored expression on your face, and you flick your hand toward him, fast and casual like it’s second nature, and he doesn’t even register what you’re doing until it’s already happening.

A sharp crack of cold air rushes past his face, sudden and freezing, and he panics, heat pulsing from his palm immediately, just instinct, just muscle memory from every combat simulation and real-world fight he’s ever been in, and flames flash up from his hand, catching the air just in time to block the icy whatever that just shot out of yours.

It melts instantly. Water drips down his wrist. He stares.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, grinning now because this just stopped being scary and started being cool, and his brain short-circuits trying to compute it all. “You have powers. You have the opposite of my powers. That’s crazy. That’s—wait, that’s actually so cool. Are we soulmates? No, genuinely, that feels like a soulmate thing. Fire and ice, opposites attract, forbidden tension—”

You flick your fingers again.

A small, perfectly-aimed puff of cold air smacks right into his mouth. He coughs, splutters, glares at you like you just committed treason. You’re already turning back to Franklin. Already done with him.

He wipes his mouth. “Okay,” he mumbles, a little quieter this time, “noted.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ───

After the whole day of making sure Franklin didn’t scream again, you had finally managed to put him to sleep, wrapped him gently in the softest blanket Sue had left, left a tiny night light on by the corner of the room, made sure his pillows were cold enough so he wouldn’t wake up sobbing in pain when the pressure in his jaw built again, and once you were sure he was calm, breathing slow and light and warm against the chill of the room, you pulled the door shut behind you and exhaled properly for the first time since this morning.

It was quiet again, finally, just your breathing and the soft hum of the vents, and for a second you let yourself lean against the door, eyes closed, trying to remember how to breathe properly. You hated this part, the aftershock, when the room still felt thick with leftover panic and your body hadn’t caught up yet.

And today wasn’t just a long day, it was the day you told someone, someone outside the circle, someone loud and nosy and far too curious, and now everything felt off. Not because you said it, but because of who you said it to.

You pulled your gloves back on.

You always did, after. Like a reset, like if you could cover it up then it hadn’t really happened, like maybe he hadn’t felt it, that spark of contrast when your skin met his, when heat met cold and neither of you really knew what to do about it.

You hadn’t meant to show him anything, hadn’t meant to admit anything, and even though it was small and mostly harmless and technically safe, it still happened, and now he knew.

And you were scared. You hated that part. You were scared of your own hands sometimes, scared of forgetting how far you could push, scared of doing too much without meaning to, because it didn’t always listen to you, not fully, not when your heart was loud and your thoughts were messy and everything inside you got a little too still.

You weren’t supposed to show anyone. You weren’t supposed to lose control, even for a second.

You were halfway to the kitchen, still chewing on the inside of your cheek, when your brain finally caught up to your surroundings and realised there was someone standing there, which would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for the very obvious, very attention-grabbing sight of Johnny Storm leaning casually against the counter wearing his full Fantastic Four suit, the boots and the insignia and all.

You blinked once.

“What,” you said flatly, “are you wearing.”

He straightened up immediately, like he’d been rehearsing this, arms crossing, eyebrows up, and the expression on his face hovering somewhere between smug and serious, which didn’t make any sense, because the suit made him look ridiculous and also slightly intimidating, and you had absolutely no patience left in your body.

He nodded at you, tone a bit more even than usual. “It’s called a uniform.”

“It’s called unnecessary, dumbass.”

He ignored that.

“You’re afraid of your powers,” he said, not a question, not even a challenge, just a statement, and your mouth opened, just slightly, just enough to protest before closing again, because what would be the point.

“I get it,” he continued, softer now, almost calm, which was somehow worse, “you think if you touch the wrong thing it’ll freeze over, or fracture, or worse. You’re always waiting for the moment it slips, right? For the second your control isn’t enough. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at him. He didn’t move.

“I was like that too,” he went on, and this time it sounded real, the way he said it, not like a joke or a brag or something for attention, just honest, and maybe a little tired, “in the beginning, I couldn’t even light a candle without setting the entire table on fire. I was scared of it, even though I never admitted it out loud. Reed was always trying to explain it in equations, Sue wanted me to focus on control, but none of it helped. Not until I realised it wasn’t about shutting it down. It was about learning how to live with it.”

You didn’t respond, but you weren’t looking away either, and that was something.

He tilted his head, like he was waiting, like he’d say more if you needed him to, but he didn’t push. Just held your gaze, quiet now, oddly serious for someone whose whole personality revolved around attention and flames.

Then, without saying a word, he turned slightly, took one half-step back into the middle of the room, and with one steady breath, ignited.

It was slower than you expected. Not the fast, explosive burst he used to block your ice earlier, but something steadier, softer somehow.

A warm pulse rising from his palms first, then curling up his arms, his shoulders, his chest, until the whole surface of him glowed with that molten-orange flame you’d seen a dozen times on the news, but never this close.

You didn’t flinch, but you didn’t breathe either.

He was still talking. “I had to get burned before I learned where the limits were. I had to feel it. You can’t control something you’re scared of.”

He looked down at his own hands, fire flickering quietly against his skin, no panic behind it, no wild surge, just... control.

He let it rise, just a bit more, let it roll across his shoulders and neck, until you could see the light catch in the curve of his jaw and the tips of his hair, and you hated how much of your brain registered that he looked good like this, confident and balanced and not at all like the cocky idiot who flirted with you in the middle of the living room while you ignored him on purpose.

You watched him for a second longer, eyes trailing from the fire still curling softly along his arms to the way he wasn’t even trying to show off anymore, wasn’t performing it like some circus trick or throwing it around like a party trick, just holding it like it was part of him, like it had always been, and maybe it was. You didn’t know what it was like to burn. You only knew how it felt to freeze.

“I don’t like using it,” you said quietly, and it came out before you even realised you were going to say it, too fast and too honest, “it’s not something I... practise. It hurts people when I do it wrong. It’s easier not to.”

Johnny blinked, head tilting a little, fire still flickering low across his shoulders, warming the space between you, not close enough to touch, but enough to make the cold in your bones crack just slightly.

“And you think that’s gonna be sustainable?” he asked, brows raising like he genuinely wanted to know, not judging, just... asking. “Just never using it? Just keeping it all bottled up under those gloves forever?”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t look away either, and he huffed, something between a sigh and a half-laugh, and suddenly it was like a switch flipped inside him, because the fire vanished in an instant, blinked out without drama, and he ran a hand through his now-flame-tousled hair like he was resetting back to default Johnny again.

“Damn,” he muttered, eyeing you now with a crooked grin slowly dragging at his mouth, “you’re kind of intense, huh?”

You gave him a look, not even bothering to respond to that.

“No, I mean it,” he went on, leaning a little against the counter again, arms folding across his chest, voice dropping back into that casual lazy rhythm he used when he was trying too hard to act like he wasn’t affected, “you walk around here all quiet and serious and freezing people with your eyes—don’t lie, you do, I’ve seen you—and you’ve got these deadly hands you refuse to use, and the most impressive toddler-calming skills I’ve ever seen, and now I find out you’ve got actual ice powers, and you still don’t think you’re cool.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That was awful.”

He grinned wider. “I know. I was really proud of it.”

You sighed, more exhausted than annoyed, already regretting speaking to him at all.

But then, softer, not quite joking, not quite serious either, he added, “You know you can’t scare me, right?”

You looked at him, but he was already watching you.

“I mean, I’m literally the fire. I’m not exactly easy to freeze out.”

And for once, you didn’t have anything sharp to throw back. You just stared at him while something quiet passed between you, something warm and slow and mildly infuriating, and Johnny smiled like he could feel it too.

Then, because of course he couldn’t leave it there, he added, “Plus, if we ever got into a fight, you’d probably win. Cold always wins. It’s not fair, but I respect it.”

You blinked. “Is that your way of saying you’re scared of me?”

He shrugged. “Only a little. In a hot way.”

You groaned. “Go to sleep, Johnny.”

He winked. “Only if you promise not to kill me in mine.”

[bernardsbendystraws]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ be real ─ m.s.

summary ʚɞ you and matt have been dating for barely a month. things have been really good, but things get a bit tense when matt calls you out on faking it...

cw ʚɞ smut, fluff, faking it, trouble finishing, use of toys, embarassaing convo, desperate needy sex, p n v, raw, creampie, praise kink, begging (both), and more

pairing ʚɞ matt sturniolo x reader

notes ʚɞ copyright notice. wc 2000+. lol this may or may not be based of true circumstances...

ʚ with love and big tits, rose ɞ → nav

“Listen, I know you’ve been faking it.” 

His confrontational words immediately made your heart drop to your stomach. Although they were said in a neutral tone with a sympathetic face, you couldn’t help but let your teeth sink into your bottom lip, your fingers pinching the material of your sweatshirt while your eyes stayed glued down to your lap. 

You couldn’t look at him even if you wanted to. Shame and embarrassment made your face blister with an uncomfortable heat, your eyes blinking rapidly as you heard him speak. 

“I…I know this is kinda awkward-” 

You huff at his statement. This was a lot more than kinda awkward—it was the type of embarrassment that made you wanna walk out the door and never see him again. You were debating letting the short time of building your relationship fall down the drain in order to keep your pride intact. 

Faking an orgasm wasn’t a new thing for you, you’ve always done it in every single relationship. It’s not necessarily the other person's fault either. You had…well, tried—really, really hard. You had even kept a sex journal to track your progress in reaching the big ‘O’ – and you did hit it at some point, but not much progress was truly made.

“-but I want you to tell me how I can help, you know? I can’t…I can’t just read your body or anything if you’re faking stuff. I—I don’t want this to be a long-run issue, I want you to feel good, I��I wanna talk about it.” 

His words make your lips twist to the side, your face scrunching in humiliation as you try to pull your gaze up to meet his. 

The second you see the outline of his lips, your eyes fall back down, burning with shame as your vision gets blurry. Blinking back ferociously, you cringe watching a tear fall into your lap, a loud sniffle making your spine run stiff. 

“Hey, hey,” Matt coos, reaching out and petting your arm in an attempt to provide some sort of comfort. “-I just wanna talk so we can make it better, okay? I’m not trying to be mean or anything, just…just want you to feel good too.” 

You nod at his words. Taking a deep sigh, you force yourself to look up—the sight of his puzzled expression making your heart clench in your chest. 

“Well,” you start, licking over your lips as your eyes wander around his living room, “-it’s just…I don’t…there’s…” you sigh in frustration, the explanation jumbled and sounding as clueless as you feel. 

Matt’s hand slides down to your knee. He gives you a reassuring squeeze, offering a small smile as encouragement. 

“It’s just…it’s not….it’s not you. I just…can’t.” 

The blunt statement makes a frown tug on his face. Your boyfriend of barely a month slouches in his seat on the couch ottoman directly in front of you, his eyes flickering across your features as he takes a minute to digest the statement. 

“You…you can’t?” he repeats, his face scrunching more as you give an affirmative nod. “-like, you’ve just…never?” he questions, his head tilting towards the side as he sees you shrug.

“I, um, well—I have, just…” your eyes squint shut, your scalp itching as you try to focus on the conversation at hand, “-I can’t without a…a vibrator? Like…it’s just…it’s always been that way. No matter what I do, no matter what I try—-” 

“So you need a vibrator in order to finish?” he remarks, genuine curiosity leaking from his tone. 

Your toes crack, your feet shifting anxiously on the ground as you give a slight nod. This is embarrassing—fucking humiliating. You’re basically telling him there is no way he can fix it—there’s no way that he’ll ever be enough—and you know that probably sucks to hear. 

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t even know. I’ve tried, I just…I can’t without one. It’s not you or—”

“Hey,” he laughs, cutting off your rambled apology while squeezing your knee once again. “-it doesn’t offend me or anything. I wanted to be able to fix it and you gave me a clear solution. If anything….” he wiggles his bros, licking over his lips, “-’m excited, baby.” 

You roll your eyes at his antics, biting back a smile from his boyish behavior. It’s like some sort of weight has been lifted off of you—something that felt so worrisome turning into something else—something that makes you want to get closer to him. 

“So….what kind of vibrator does my girlfriend like?” 

___

You wish you could smack that stupid grin off his face. He’s really having fun—his hand lightly placing the light trembling object a couple inches away from your sensitive bud—the sensations echoing just enough to give you a taste of bliss. 

“Matt…” you whine, tugging on his hair and scowling. He has the audacity to let out a slight laugh, his hand moving the vibrator around your clit as he watches you squirm. 

A whimper falls through your lips. Your back arches off the mattress of his bed, the motion making the small bullet glide onto your clit as you let out a broken moan. 

“Yeah? Feels good, baby?” he tuts, biting hungrily on his lip as he watches you writhe beneath him. 

It’s a fucking sight. Your legs are spread for him, your knees locking around his waist as he lets his hard cock rest against your quivering thigh. 

He presses the device more firmly against your sensitivity, watching as your eyes bulge open, your lips parting as a sinful noise erupts from the back of your throat. 

Your knees lock on either side of his hips. He hisses as you instinctively pull him closer, the movement making his throbbing dick slide against your inner leg. 

The build-up is happening. He can tell by the way your legs tense and shake that you will finish eventually. Matt has been dreaming of this moment—dreaming of seeing you so consumed by pleasure that you completely let go for him.

“Shit, sweetheart—look at that,” he coos, staring between your bodies to look at your plump and swollen clit. Letting his fingers glide the toy between your wet folds, he gathers the slick leaking from your entrance before pushing the device up again, pushing it against your puffy bud. 

“Oh, fuck! Matt!” you cry, your hands clawing into his shoulders as you feel yourself clench around nothing. “-need…need you inside me—please, need it so—so bad,” you breathe, your body craving to be filled and fucked more than anything.

“I…fuck, okay—give me a second,” he husks, lifting his hips just enough to align his tip with your pulsating hole, easily slipping in with both his hands still preoccupied—one holding him up, the other holding the toy. 

“Shitttttt, there we go,” he rasps, hissing as he feels your walls tighten around him as he starts to bottom out. The stretch is usually a bit uncomfortable, but right now it feels like you’re satisfying a painfully apparent craving. 

You yelp as he grinds himself into you. Matt groans loudly, his cock twitching inside of you while your chest arches into his. “Oh—oh god!” you cry, his pelvis making the vibrator flush against your overly sensitive clit, your entire body starting to tense as he starts to thrust in and out of your slippery heat. 

“Fuck—’m…” Matt bites into his lip, trying to distract himself from how good you feel wrapped around him. 

Honestly, the sight alone was already making him struggle to hold back from cumming by rubbing up against your thigh. This is intense. He’s trying to create a steady rhythm, but every time you convulse around his length, he feels his balls draw up, his gut tightening as he attempts to keep his hips driving into you. 

“Please…please tell me you’re close, baby—baby, please,” he sputters, his groans undeniably getting louder in a way that makes your entire body echo with euphoria. He sounds so desperate for you to finish—so intoxicated by everything that he needs you to cum before he breaks entirely. 

“I—-I—” you stumble over your words, the thoughts inside your head too far pushed into the back of your mind as he gives you everything he has—hammering his cock deep inside of your pulsating walls with desperation falling through his lips with noises that make you feel like you’re on fire. 

“C’mon,” he coos, his hand shaking as he holds the vibrator, gliding it against your swollen bud as your feet push off the bed, pushing your pelvis into his as everything becomes intoxicatingly overwhelming. “-cum for me, you got it—please, baby—I—I need it, please.” 

Your body turns rigid, the waves of euphoria pummeling down on you with a hot bliss that makes a brutal noise rip from the back of your throat. 

Matt lets out a loud whimper. The feeling of your wet walls nearly suffocating his dick and making it impossible for him to hold back. 

The waves of your orgasm are crashing hard, the vicious pleasure making your mind run on pure instinct as you lock your legs around him. 

“Gonna cum—where—where d–do—”

You dig your ankles further into his back, a sob leaving your lips from the ruthless vibrations from the vibrator still planted on your clit. “Inside…please, Matt. I—I want it,” you hiccup, screeching as he fucks himself somehow deeper inside of you, making your entire body tremble as his hips flex, stilling with his pelvis flush against your own. 

“Fuckkkkkkk, gon—gonna cum—’s…so–so good, baby—did so good for me,” he breathes, moaning as he feels you milk him. 

The vein on his neck protrudes, his hand holding himself up grasping gently into your hair, his elbow propped upwards as he leaves a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss onto your neck. 

The vibrations on your pulsing bud pause. Matt tosses the small bullet on the side of the bed, unmoving with his cock slowly softening inside of you. 

You feel him panting against your neck, your own chest rapidly rising and falling as he lifts his head up to look at you. “You okay?” he questions, analyzing your face as you nod breathlessly. 

He combs his hand through your hair, letting out a dry laugh as he notices you starting to doze off. “Here, lemme clean us up and then we can go to bed.” 

Slowly pulling out, he cringes as you wince. He presses a kiss to the side of your cheek, getting up and grabbing a damp washcloth from his bathroom. 

Matt lets out a huff as he notices you struggling to stay awake. He gently nudges your legs open, swallowing thickly as he sees his cum dripping out of you. 

Well—your mixed cum. 

He smiles proudly as he brings the semi-warm cloth downwards, tentatively cleaning you. He tosses it to the side carelessly, kissing your knees before lowering your legs back down to rest comfortably on his bed. 

Peeking your eyes open, you smile sleepily. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Matt grins wider. He plops down on the bed next to you, pulling you onto his chest and tugging a blanket over the two of you. “Because, I feel like I just won the fuckin’ lottery.” he answers. 

A lazy giggle vibrates through your lips. “Matt, you’re ridiculous,” you puff, smacking his chest playfully as your lips curl with a soft smile. 

Grabbing your hand in his own, he pulls it up to his mouth, kissing along your knuckles. “-’m serious. I think I just discovered my biggest kink.” 

Your brows furrow. Looking up, you let your chin rest on his chest, your eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Oh? And what’s that?” 

He grins at your interrogation. “My biggest kink is you feeling good—you being real with me.” he says. 

You blush at his words. Your nose scrunches with endearment, your eyes squinting as a smile pulls on your face. “You’re such a dork,” you tease. 

“Nuh-uh,” he puffs, pulling you in closer. You feel his lips on the crown of your head, a gentle kiss making you sink further into his hold. “-just being real.”

[yuramour]

★ IT'S TRUE LOVE — F1 GRID

synopsis. f1 grid as different romance tropes pairing. f1 grid x reader (ft. mv1, yt22, ln4, op81, gr63, ka12, cl16, lh44, dr3, aa23, cs55, ob87, ih6, jd7) genre. fluff, angst??, headcanons warnings. mostly fluff?, some of these are angsty tho, some brief mentions of suggestiveness, not proofread wc. 7k (about 500 per driver, 2 paragraphs each)

a/n. ollie's is based on a dream i had that i woke up CRYING from. also, i think isack's is the longest, but like...that's my man stfu. also, very much not proofread. soz!

MAX VERSTAPPEN

☆ strangers to lovers?

you and max met when you first moved to italy. you were working the front desk at a fancy hotel in monza that served as a temporary home for some of the richest people in the world. he hardly paid you any notice at first- just a simple smile and wave whenever he passed by the front desk. you didn't really know anything about formula 1- or really care. but something about the man stuck with you. after a few months of working at the hotel, he finally approached. asking if you wanted to go for a drive. of course, you said yes. he took you to a secluded lookout point at the edge of the city. you talked for hours, the conversation winding down after the sun had long since set. it was clear he just wanted someone to talk to, confide in. someone who didn't care about who he was. he took you back to his hotel room that night- and in the morning, he was gone. it turned into something of a routine for you two; every time he would visit monza, he'd stay in your hotel, take you out for a drive after your shift, and invite you to stay the night with him. every time, he'd tell you he missed you. those words awakened some sick satisfaction in you every time he uttered them- he missed you. he thought about you.

you knew nothing would ever come of it. he was rich, powerful, at the top of his game. everyone knew him. everyone loved him. and you? you were nothing. barely even a character in the background of everyone else's life. but every night you got to spend with max, you felt like the world revolved around just the two of you. then came the night he told you he loved you- you thought he'd said it as a mistake, just a slip of the tongue as his hands wandered your body. but he said it again the morning after, when he thought you were deep in sleep. maybe nothing would ever come of it. you were from two different worlds. your paths only crossing when he had business in the city. but you held on hope that next time he came, he'd whisk you away from the monotony of your life and tell you he loved you with his chest. but until then, you reveled in the fact that he thought of you when he was gone- the image of you at that lookout point in your pretty red dress staring out at the sunset was burned into the back of his mind.

YUKI TSUNODA

☆ forced proximity

you would've liked to be friends with yuki, as everyone else seemed to be. but any time the two of you were left in a room together, he'd leave as quick as he could. it was like he was avoiding you. in the heart of winter, the red bull racing team informed you that you'd be going to a conference in switzerland with the team. you were excited to be getting out of the country for a while. you'd been going through a bad breakup- the type of breakup that practically crippled you with misery. so you were willing to take any opportunity to run from your problems. the night you arrived at the giant house the team had rented for the weekend, you decided to stay in and take a nap while the rest of the team went out to explore the town. you woke up a few hours later to a dark house, the wind howling loudly outside your window. you stumbled down the stairs- nearly jumping out of your skin when you ran into (literally) none other than yuki tsunoda, who told you that he opted to stay behind and rest as well. at first, the tension in the house was palpable- the awkward air between you and yuki thick as you waited for the storm to pass. the blizzard outside lasted for two days- the rest of the team unable to come back up to the house, leaving you and yuki alone the entire time. the first several hours were awkward, his apparent aversion to you still going strong. but slowly, very slowly, you managed to wear him down- getting him to crack a few smiles, joke around with you a bit, and by the second day, you would even call yourselves friends.

the team eventually got back up to the house, apologizing profusely for having to leave you and yuki alone during that time. but neither of you minded. for some reason, the next few days at work, you avoided yuki like the plague. now it was your turn to flee the room whenever you were left together- the tension in the room immediately turning up to 100 every time you were alone with him. it was too much for you. you didn't expect yuki to show up at your apartment on a random friday night. but by the time morning came, you couldn't find it in yourself to complain. that same day, you threw out everything of your exes that you'd kept for some stupid sentimental reason- expelling his memory from your home. while your heart was heavy when you saw his coat in your closet, you grinned like a lovestruck teenager when a few days later, you saw the toothbrush yuki had left in your bathroom. just a few weeks ago, you never would've guessed that yuki tsunoda- the man who was seemingly determined to keep you as far away from his as possible- would be the one to help you finally get over the man whose memory had been holding you back.

LANDO NORRIS

☆ enemies to lovers

you hated lando norris. and lando norris hated you. despite having so many mutual friends, you always managed to rub each other the wrong way. especially recently. you'd been going through a bit of a hard time- you were an american fashion designer and stylist. that's how you and lando first crossed paths. you were the personal stylist of carlos sainz back when he and lando were teammates. you were young, eager to prove yourself, and you did just that. your styling on carlos had opened a lot of doors for you in the fashion industry- and you took every opportunity you got to move up the ranks. you kept in close contact with carlos, having become close to him over the two years you were his stylist, and even becoming close to some of his own friends. you'd been having a rough few months- a well respected fashion journalist had given your new line a horrible review, which led to half of your contracts dropping you, and hardly anyone in the industry willing to even interact with you. carlos invited you to a party one night, just to get you out of your apartment that you'd been sulking in for the past couple weeks. unfortunately, he didn't tell you that the party was a celebration. for lando. of course.

you spent the whole night avoiding him as best you could, not wanting to hear him jeer over you potentially losing your career. you ended up standing outside, the cool air helping clear your mind of every horrible thought that ran through it. you were having a pleasant time until none other than lando norris sidled up next to you, you rolled your eyes and made a move to walk away, but he reached out for you, and for some reason, you stayed. and maybe it was the alchocol, but, you confided in him, telling him your fears, your hopes, everything that you'd never thought you'd say to him. and he listened. and he didn't judge. he told you about his own life, how he felt he was on a downward spiral, the confident cocky facade he'd put on around you slipping away until all you saw was him. the real him. you blamed it on the alcohol, but something in the both of you shifted. you couldn't deny that the kiss you shared that night made you feel something you'd never felt before. you kept your relationship a secret- not wanting the tabloids and media that seemingly hated the both of you to take the knowledge of your relationship and run with it. the more time you spent with lando, the more you saw of the real him, who held you so gently, treated you like you hung the moon and the stars, instead of the lando who criticized your every move, making you want nothing more than to scream at him (which you often had). you realized that he was just like you. hurt by the world, and by himself. and now, you were helping each other heal.

OSCAR PIASTRI

☆ opposites attract

oscar wasn't a party person. hell, he wasn't even really a people person. but you were. so he forced himself to be. you had met at an afterparty that you were dj-ing years ago. neither of you ever thought that you'd end up where you were- you were loud, excitable, a total social butterfly. and he was anything but that. he liked to keep to himself, holding his real thoughts and feeling close to his chest. but you took pleasure in breaking down walls, getting people to say what they really felt. he didn't like partying- but he loved watching you have fun. he was content to watch from the sidelines as you danced with your friends, approached complete strangers to strike up conversation, enjoying being the center of the universe. at the beginning of your relationship, it took you a while to understand each other- you didn't really get why oscar preferred to stand in the back of the room, just observing, and he didn't really understand how you had the energy to party so long, how you were able to talk to anyone and everyone so effortlessly. it took a lot time time and patience, but you grew to love and appreciate those differences.

both of your favorite moments together were in the back of the cab after the parties- your head resting on your shoulder, his hand on your knee. you were always so tired after the parties, just wanting to go home with oscar, take a warm bath, and sleep soundly wrapped in his arms. and he loved to take care of you, washing your hair, setting a big cup of water and bottle of aspirin of your bedside table for your inevitable hangover. or the aftermath of the parties you'd throw at your shared apartment; the quiet music still playing through the speakers as you cleaned up the half-empty discarded bottle on the tables. oscar taking your hand and pulling you close, taking his turn to dance with you now that everyone else had left. everybody questioned how the two of you managed to stay together- your lifestyles seemingly complete opposites of each other. they didn't see the way you brought oscar out of his shell, bringing out the goofy personality he hid under that nonchalant persona. and they didn't see the way oscar taught you to appreciate the quiet moments, like cooking together or staying in and watching tv. they didn't understand that if you really love someone, you find a way to make it work. and you and oscar definitely made it work.

GEORGE RUSSELL

☆ high school sweethearts

you couldn't count on both hands the years that you and george had been together. your relationship was practically perfect by almost every mean. you started dating when you were both sixteen. going from sitting next to each other in biology to cheering him on at his races. you supported george through every step in his racing career, form f4 all the way to f1. through all the traveling, stress, and high emotions, you and george stuck together. you often felt out of place amongst the people that had become george's peers; the billionaires, the models, the politicians- but george never made you feel like you didn't belong with him in his world. it wasn't like you needed constant reassurance that he wouldn't leave you for some model- but he gave it to you anyway. telling you that there's no one else he'd rather come home to. you shared a pretty apartment with an even prettier view, often spending your evenings on the balcony with a glass of wine, watching the sun set over the water. it was simple. it was lovely.

of course, no relationship comes without its ups and downs. and while it was mostly ups, the downs were...pretty down. you knew george supported you in your career just as you did him. always cheering you on during your final exams or whenever you got a promotion. you knew he supported you. but he said something in a post-race interview that just made you feel distinctly unimportant. like he didn't even care about you or your aspirations. you knew that he could say some pretty dumb stuff due to the post-race adrenaline and general stress of race week. he'd said a lot of things he didn't mean over the years. but this really set you off. you were packing your bags in the hotel, getting ready to go home early. you didn't want to be around him at the moment. but you never could stay mad at him for long. he was practically (literally) in tears as he explained himself- the shame of his words flooding over him as you begged you not to leave. of course you would never leave him. the two of you went home together early, dodging the parties and interviews for the comfort of your home. at home, he listened when you told him how his words made you feel, and he explained what he really meant by his words. as the two of you ended the night as you always did- sharing a bottle of wine on your balcony- you found yourself counting your blessings. you didn't know what you did to deserve such a beautiful, healthy, perfectly imperfect relationship, but you knew you'd never take it for granted. and neither would he.

KIMI ANTONELLI

☆ fake relationship

you swore it started as a joke. ollie had made a stupid bet that kimi wouldn't be able to find a girlfriend before the summer ended- he was right, of course. which is why kimi asked you- one of his oldest friends- to help him out. was it cheating? sure. but kimi couldn't let ollie win that bet. it was fun at first; trying to trick ollie into believing that you two were actually dating. you and kimi went on "dates" so you could post them on instagram to make it more believable. you held hands in public, after every race, kimi would rush over to you first, and you'd hug him tightly, leaning your forehead against where his would be under his helmet. you giggled while reading the comments about how cute of a couple you were. because there was no way you two would actually date. you were friends. best friends. and this was all just an elaborate joke.

and then came the night at the bar. kimi and ollie had a couple of weeks before their next race, and wanted to celebrate their break along with some of the other rookies and their girlfriends. you, being kimi's "girlfriend" were invited along as well. it was all fine. really, it was. even though kimi was seemingly flirting with another girl right in front of you and all your friends. it hurt. you knew it shouldn't have, but it did. and you knew why. you always knew. but as soon as the tears in your eyes started shedding without warning, kimi noticed immediately and whisked you away. you cried the whole drive home, continuously telling him that you were fine- but of course you weren't. you didn't remember asking him to stay- or maybe you didn't ask. but when you walked into the living room of your apartment the next morning to find kimi asleep on the couch, you knew you needed to talk. you thought he'd leave the second you told him you loved him- but he stayed, and told you the same. guess it never really was a joke, after all

CHARLES LECLERC

☆ starcrossed lovers

it seemed as though no matter how hard you tried, things never seemed to work out between you and charles. schedules never aligning, families never approving, media never leaving you alone. you'd been with charles for six years- more or less. it felt like fate when you first met. despite your drastically different lives, it seemed like the universe just kept drawing you two together- bumping into each other in the most random places. you first met while you were working at a coffee shop in your final year at university- and then again while you were vacationing in italy during your celebratory graduation trip- and he remembered you. you didn't know anything about him, or who he was, but it just felt right. the first several months of your relationship were difficult. you'd just started grad school, and were fully committed to continuing your education- which he understood. and your parents were vehemently against your relationship, stating that he was a distraction from your studies, that you two were rushing into things, and that given his career, he'd surely be unfaithful to you. things only got harder after you went public with your relationship. you'd been together in private for a little over a year- flying out to see each other whenever you could, nightly video calls, and constant texting had long been the norm in your relationship. but charles wanted you to really be a part of his life. so you agreed to attend one of his races, and make your first public appearance as his girlfriend.

the articles were written practically the second you stepped foot in the paddock. tabloids digging into your family history and questioning why charles leclerc- the prince of monaco- one of the most famous men in the history of the sport- would be with you, who was by all means, nobody. it felt as though things were on a constant downward spiral after that. of course, you and charles loved each other, there was no doubt about that. but you weren't used to this life. you weren't used to people with cameras waiting for you outside of class, customers taking pictures of you working to post online, stumbling across random hate posts while peacefully scrolling through social media. despite charles constant reassurance that he loved you, tha he supported you, that you were all he ever wanted, you just couldn't handle the pressure. that was the first time the two of you broke up. but like i said earlier, it was as though the universe was intent on making your paths cross. maybe it was intentional on his part- the panel he held at your university one year after your breakup, and of course, you just couldn't stay away from each other. but that didn't last for long- your second breakup came not long after. you'd gotten your masters degree, and wanted to focus on your career. you somehow managed to stay away from him for two years after that. until you were invited to speak at a conference in monaco, that charles was the guest of honor at. there was no denying that you missed each other. and when you ended up going home with him that night, you were determined to stay this time. fuck the tabloids, fuck your parents. he was yours. always had been, and always would be.

LEWIS HAMILTON

☆ second chance

ten years. that's how many years you'd dedicated to lewis hamilton. you started dating right out of high school, after having been friends for years. you supported lewis throughout his entire career, all his ups and downs. you were always there, cheering him on no matter what. when lewis signed to mclaren for his first ever f1 season, you couldn't have been prouder. he'd been working towards formula 1 for such a long time, and it was finally happening. at first, you loved going to all the parties with lewis. you were never much of a party person, but you went for him, just proud to see him being recognized for the talented man you always knew he was. but after the first couple seasons, his new lifestyle had just gotten to be...too much for you. you of course were so proud of him in all his success, but all the parties, the practices, the traveling, all that was enough in and of itself. but you just felt so...out of place in his life. now instead of celebrating his wins with his friends from home, he was celebrating with celebrities; models, actors, musicians, all the people you saw on tv that seemed so unattainable were now falling over themselves to talk to your boyfriend at the afterparties. you were never an insecure person- but that realization made you feel so small. when you first shared your feeling to lewis, he assured you that those people meant nothing to him- that all he really wanted at the end of the day was to come home to you. that he'd miss every single party if it meant being able to watch tv on the couch in your shared apartment. but the question burned in the back of your mind; if that was all he really wanted, why was he even at the parties?

the breakup was gradual. lewis would come home from the races and accuse you of being unsupportive, and you'd accuse him of not caring about you now that he was famous. you weren't really sure who was in the wrong, but after ten years of commitment, ten years of love, of support, of being family, you were done. he was the one to tell you that it was over, but you both knew it was only a matter of time. and now, almost a decade later, you were certain you'd fully moved on. you were sure that lewis had forgotten all about you. he went on to date models and actresses, while you focused on your career. you certainly hadn't expected to see him at the charity gala that your boss had invited you to, but here he was. he'd somehow changed so much in the past ten years, and not at all. he was older, more poised, but his face was practically the exact same. like he hadn't aged a day since you last saw him. he was talking to some politician when he saw you, jaw immediately dropping once he noticed your presence. you don't know why you followed him when he silently asked you with a tilt of his head to meet you out on the balcony, but you did. the conversation flowed as naturally as it always had, and the tearful apology followed soon after. you took his offer to take you out for dinner the following night. it was like you were meant to follow him up to his penthouse with how naturally it felt. you stayed the night with him, and the night after, and the night after, when suddenly, you realized that weeks had passed without even realizing it. falling so easily back into your old routine that you'd broken out of over a decade ago. it all just felt so natural, so right, so perfect. maybe time really does bring you closer.

CARLOS SAINZ

☆ unrequited to requited love

you were everything to carlos. his oldest friend, his closest confidant, his lifeline. you'd known each other for almost as long as he could remember- you karted together as kids until an injury prevented you from furthering your career. after that, you just kind of stuck with carlos, which he was thankful for. he loved having you around, always there to cheer him on for every win, and pick him back up after every loss. as you got older, you followed him less and less, focusing on your newfound passion in journalism- but the bond between you remained stronger than ever. a few years after he joined the formula 1 grid, you became a presenter for the sport, your previous experience in karting and constant exposure due to your best friends career coming in handy. carlos had always admired your way with people, with speaking, able to speak to eloquently even under intense pressure. truth be told, carlos could listen to you speak for hours and never get bored. he had listened to you speak for hours and not gotten bored. carlos loved everything about you, really. always had. in fact, he'd been in love with you for nearly as long as he could remember. he'd drunkenly confessed to you the night he finished his first f1 race- and you let him down easy. because you didn't love him the same way. he pretended to not remember what he said the morning after, and you were content thinking he really didn't.

before that night, you somehow hadn't picked up on the fact that carlos was in love with you- despite it apparently being painfully obvious to everyone else. maybe you just didn't want to think that your best friend saw you in that way- because you really didn't see him in that way. at least, you didn't before that night. but after his confession, you started seeing carlos in a new light- the way his big brown eyes focused on you so intently whenever you spoke, the way he ran his hands through his thick hair whenever he was frustrated, the way he would squeeze your hand before the two of you parted ways for your separate jobs on the track. they were all habits you'd noticed before, but for some reason, your started stuttering whenever you met his eyes when you spoke, your stomach fluttering whenever he ran his hands through his hair, your hand felt empty as his left yours. you pushed those feelings down- thinking that surely after his drunken confession wasn't how he truly felt. it had been a couple years, after all. surely if it was real, he didn't feel that way anymore. until one night, the two of you were celebrating his first win with ferrari- a huge achievement for your friend. something about the way the dim lighting of your apartment made his skin glow, his eyes soft as you drunkenly giggled at a lame joke he'd made. he just looked so perfect. you hadn't intended to tell him you loved him- but you did. immediately regretting it when he froze, telling you that you'd had too much to drink. he helped you into bed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving your room. the following morning, you went into the kitchen to find him leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee. you attempted to explain yourself, but he stopped you. simply asking if what you said was true. of course, it was. and of course, he still loved you. as he always did.

ALEX ALBON

☆ soulmates

somehow, it had always been you and alex. it was like your lives were intwined from the moment you were born. there were so many coincidences throughout the course of your lives- somehow often being in the same place at the same time without even knowing. you were literally born at the same hospital, two years apart, delivered by the same doctor. him and your brother had karted together for a brief time as kids- alex had even found a picture of the two of them together, with you looking on in the background, buried deep in a box in his parents basement. you wouldn't realize it until years later, but the two of you even shared a math tutor, occasionally passing by each other as your sessions ended and his began. when you got older, you and your brother decided to move to monaco- your brother had long retired from karting and turned towards engineering, managing to snag a role as an engineer for none other than the atlassian williams formula 1 team. you were really just along for the ride. you'd always followed your brother wherever he went, and he hadn't led you astray yet. his work at williams was enough to cover the rent for your little apartment, but you decided to pick up a job on the side as a barista at an aesthetic little cafe while you did online university classes.

you loved your job as a barista. especially since you were in monaco. all the random celebrities and politicians you met in your day-to-day life was something you never even dreamed of. and now you were a background character in their lives. it was fun! you enjoyed being an observer, watching these seemingly untouchable people live somewhat "normal" lives, ordering coffee like your average person. your cafe was right on the route of alex's morning runs, but he didn't ever go in. not until over a year of you working there. you had no idea who he was. despite the fact that your brother worked closely with him as an engineer for his team, and the fact they they karted together as kids (a fact that neither of them remembered), you didn't even really watch f1. only really knowing the most famous racers. your interaction at the cafe was like literally any other- no more than a few words on each side exchanged, and then he was off. but you would see him again just a few months later during the monaco grand prix. your brother had managed to snag you a pass for the race, able to get you inside the williams garage for you to see his job up close. when he introduced you to the racers, the chemistry between you and alex was immediate. it was like the two of you had known each other your whole lives (totally unaware that you sort of had). he asked for your number as soon as your brother was out of earshot, and not even a week after that, you were officially dating. the realization of how entwined your lives were came slowly, childhood stories lining up weirdly perfectly, joking about how odd it was until realizing that you were telling the same story. you never felt a connection with anyone else the way you felt it with alex. it was as if there was an invisible string that had been drawing you together your whole lives- and you wouldn't have it any other way.

DANIEL RICCIARDO

☆ meet cute

you weren't quite sure how you ended up alone at a wine-tasting event at a winery in australia- several thousand miles away from home. you knew nothing about wine. or alcohol in general, really. but here you were. you weren't the type to go to events alone- or to go to events at all. you were a bit of a homebody, but you'd made a new years resolution to go on a spontaneous solo trip. which you were starting to really really regret. despite almost regretting the thousands of dollars and time that you'd spent to come here, you decided that if you were going to be here, you were going to get at least a little bit tipsy. you were a big introvert, and you were completely content just standing in the corner not talking to anyone, and not having anyone come up and talk to you. but as you got your third fourth glass of wine and went to retreat back to your corner, you found yourself colliding with what, in your inebriated state, felt like a brick wall. looking up, you quickly realized that it was not in fact a brick wall, but a very handsome man, in a very expensive looking suit- that you had just spilled red wine all over. you stuttered out an apology, embarrassed tears threatening to spill from your eyes before you looked up and saw the man...grinning? a chuckle escaping his lips as you fumbled over your words. he told you it was no big deal, that suit was old anyway. he helped you dust yourself off, inquiring about where you were from, your accent piquing his interest.

you weren't quite sure how you ended up spending the rest of your trip to australia with daniel ricciardo- but here you were, in the passenger seat of his car, singing along to an american country song. daniel was almost your complete opposite; he was charismatic, cool, friendly, practically magnetic. you were...definitely none of those things. fumbling through life as an awkward introvert, letting people walk all over you- until you met daniel. he clocked you immediately, from the second you met. he was determined to get you out of your shell, make you live life a little, and just enjoy the little things. he was dead set on making sure that your time in australia was the best time of your life. and it definitely was that. he took you sand duning, rock climbing, cliff diving, salsa dancing- things you could never see yourself doing in a million years. things you never would have done without daniel. at the beginning of your trip, you almost immediately regretting going in the first place- but as daniel drove you to the airport on your last day, you found yourself not wanting to leave. sitting in the parking lot of the airport, you and daniel sat in silence, just looking at each other. no words were exchanged, but the look in his eyes begged you to stay- and so you did. you didn't have much keeping you in your home country- your job was remote, your family lived across the country anyway, you had few (if any) friends. and if you went back, you wouldn't have daniel. maybe you were making a mistake, leaving your entire life behind for a man you met two weeks ago- but you weren't leaving your life behind, because your life was just starting.

OLLIE BEARMAN

☆ friends to strangers to lovers

you missed him. you had been best friends when you were kids- practically attached at the hip since you were born. you grew up right across the street from each other. your parents were best friends since before you were born, so naturally, the two of you were inseparable growing up. you of course supported ollie through his whole career, you were his most avid fan. it was blatantly obvious to everyone except him that you were completely in love with him. you should have told him. the night before he left, before he moved to italy forever, leaving everyone and everything behind for his career, the two of you were walking down the old streets of your neighborhood as you always did. you were looking up at him- he'd just gone through a growth spurt, you weren't quite used to it yet, and he looked down at you. you knew you should've told him then, but you didn't. you just let him go. you didn't know if you'd ever get to say it to him. after he moved, he was busy nearly 100% of the time. you tried to keep in contact at first, but it was hard. slowly but surely, the two of you fell out of contact. you kept an eye on his career, watching all his races, no matter what odd hours of the night you had to wake up for them, reading every article about him, practically stalking the instagrams of all his new friends. you wondered if he did the same for you. while you were proud of him, it sucked to see him living such a cool life. rather, it sucked to see him live such a cool life without you.

you weren't surprised at the people that ollie ended up around- especially after he managed to get the second haas seat. now that he was in f1, he was going to fancy parties, surrounded by the most rich and glamourous people out there. you didn't expect his parents to bring you out for one of his races- you weren't sure if you even wanted to go. you hadn't seen him for years, now. hadn't spoken to him for almost as long. you really wish you hadn't gone. it was so painfully awkward seeing him again- the weird side-hug, the fact that he'd gotten even taller, his accent had even changed. he didn't even sound like the same person you used to know. the next few days weren't much better; the weird tension between you two hadn't dissipated at all. it broke your heart that the boy who used to be your favorite person in the world now just felt like another stranger. the night before you and his parents went back home, you and ollie were alone for the first time in literal years. you hadn't really made much conversation in the past few days, the tension in the air between you too thick for much of that. the awkwardness came to a head when you realized that the two of you were sitting on complete opposite sides of the room from each other, staring at your phones. you were sick of it. you used to be best friends, you could talk about anything, literally anything. and now, it was like you didn't exist to each other. you were done with it. you crossed the room, stopping right in front of him, his brown eyes looking up to meet yours, confusion evident in his face. you laid it all on him- all your frustrations over the past few years and come spilling out without filter- and in those frustrations, was your confession. he sat still, mouth agape. you regretted it immediately, turning around to leave the room and hide from your shame- but he grabbed your wrist and turned you around, you both stood still for a moment, eye contact unwavering before he pulled you in. all those years spent thinking he'd forgotten about you, he was thinking the same about you.

ISACK HADJAR

☆ childhood friends to lovers

everyone you met thought that you and isack were a couple. he brought you practically everywhere with him, his hand a constant presence in yours. you always laughed at them, at the way everyone was so sure that there was something more between the two of you. clearly the two of you were best friends- practically since birth. obviously there was nothing more between you. you were just close. very very close. you never batted an eye the way you were the first person he ran to after a race, the way he placed his hand on the small of your back while walking through a crowd, or the way he took every opportunity to touch your face; brushing your hair behind your ear or wiping some invisible food from the corner of your mouth. and he never minded the way you would plant a kiss on his cheek- dangerously close to his lips after every race, good or bad. he never minded the way you not so subtly admired the slope of his nose and the freckles that adorned it, or the way your face flushed whenever he helped you with your bags, his biceps showing clearly through the fabric of his shirt. and neither of you paid any mind to the way you got a little too close while watching tv in your apartment, his arms wrapped tightly around your back as you both laid on the couch. or the way your lips got as close as they could without actually touching when you would turn in his arms to face him. you were friends. best friends. of course you were close...

you loved isack. of course you did, how could you not? he was funny, determined, passionate, yet so gentle and sweet. of course you loved isack. the two of you were at a party- he was never much for parties, but all the other drivers and their friends would be there. you figured it'd be good for him. you got a little drunk- not drunk enough to be delirious, but drunk enough to become the most confident you'd ever been in your life. and you were jealous. very jealous. you were proud of isack for fulfilling his lifelong dream of becoming a real formula 1 driver, but that meant he was getting a lot more...attention. normally, you'd cheer him on, be proud of him, maybe tease him a little bit in the car after the event. but tonight was different. there was a pit in your stomach eating away at you. all because of the way he laughed. you were across the room, standing between kimi and ollie, no longer paying attention to the conversation. because your attention was on him- or rather, on the girl that was making him laugh. you didn't even realize you were glaring at the pair until ollie asked if you were okay. you didn't answer- instead, you marched across the room with purpose, stopping right in front of the two. isack turned to you with a smile that quickly faded as soon as he saw the look on your face. you told him you were going home. it wasn't a question. he nodded and apologized to the girl, who, on any other day, you would have felt bad for. but you took isack's hand and marched him outside to his car. he drove you home without question, and when you turned to him after he stopped outside your apartment building and asked him to come in, he said yes without hesitation. nothing happened after that, you both just laid atop the covers on your bed, eyes gazing over each others features as if you were trying to memorize the placement of every freckle, every line, every perfect imperfection. you woke up the next morning to a headache and the smell of eggs wafting in from the kitchen. when your eyes landed on isack standing over the stove, cooking breakfast for you so dutifully- you felt it. you didn't remember telling him you loved him the night before, and you didn't remember him telling you the same- but you felt it in the way he looked up at you with that pretty smile, and that little gleam in his eye. it didn't need to be said with words, you could both feel it in the way you wrapped your arms around him from behind. you loved isack hadjar. and he loved you.

JACK DOOHAN

☆ best friend's brother

you never saw jack coming. his sister had been your best friend since you started school, so jack was always just kind of...there. he was your best friend's annoying older brother- that was really it. whenever you'd stay at the doohan's house, he would barge into his sister's room just to annoy the two of you- laughing when you both yelled and pushed him out of the room. whenever you were at their house sitting on the couch watching tv with your friend, overpriced smoothie in hand, he'd descend from his upstairs room and plop down next to you, snatching your smoothie from you hand and taking a sip before you yelled at him, taking the drink back and attempting to lay a hit on him. he'd just laugh and swat your hands away before going into the kitchen and returning with snacks for you and his sister. it wasn't like you had a crush on him growing up- you really didn't. you just couldn't see him that way. he was jack. your best friend's older brother who stole your food and made fun of your clothes. you could never like jack. that was at least, until you started university. you decided to go overseas for university- leaving australia and all that came with it behind as you started this new chapter of life. italy seemed like the best bet- far enough away from home to basically start fresh, but italy was a hub for both formula 1 and motogp, so you'd still get to see your best friends whenever she'd come to the country to support her dad and brother. you'd rarely seen jack over the past couple of years, his racing career had started taking off and consuming all his time. not that you minded, of course. you were friends with his sister anyway, not him. but something shifted the first time you saw him after your big move. something was different about him- or maybe about you. either way...it was weird.

you'd come home for christmas break, excited to see your family and friends after months of awkward communication through time zones and differing schedules. you decided to visit the doohan household. like old times, you let yourself in, calling out to see if anyone was home. the house seemed empty so you kicked your shoes off and made a beeline for the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of juice that you knew your friend always had stockpiled. you nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard jack's voice behind you. your jaw dropped as your turned to look at him- he was different than last time you saw him. not even really in looks, just his energy. you held an awkward conversation in the kitchen before jack rolled his eyes and invited you to his room to watch a movie until his sister got home. you swallowed the lump in your throat and followed him without question. the tension in the air was thick as you both sat stiffly on opposite sides of the bed, determined to not look at each other. it was an accident when you did- but once your eyes locked, neither of you could look away. you never saw it coming- jack doohan; your best friends brother, who poked fun at your haircuts, rolled his eyes whenever you spoke, and ruffled your hair when he passed by. somehow, at the drop of a dime, you were in love with jack doohan. if you'd have told your middle school self that you'd end up making out with jack- your best friend's older brother, jack- on his bed, you'd have wrinkled your nose in disgust and called yourself a liar. but here you were, with your hands in his hair and his on your waist, and it was no lie. you loved jack doohan.

taglist: @revelauver @bear-yawns

[loafysainz]

Hey I loved your stories with Lando and the twins being clingy:)

Do you think you could write something where Lando is streaming or getting filmed( like the 24 hour video with angry ginge) and the twins can’t leave him alone. Like they want to help with the workout and sit on his lap the whole time.

:)

NEW STREAMER | LN 4

lando norris!dad x fem!reader!mom

warn: fluffffffffff

anw theyre not twins Noah is (5) & Leo (3), Thank you so much for the req! I hope you like it!!! 🤍

Lando was mid-game, headset on, fingers quick on the controller as he and Max Fewtrell played yet another round of whatever game they were obsessed with that week. His stream chat was buzzing, the viewers thoroughly entertained by the usual banter between the two.

“Bro, you literally threw—” Max was saying, but before he could finish, the door behind Lando suddenly burst open with dramatic force.

BANG.

In came a blur of curly-haired chaos: Noah (5) and Leo (3), charging straight at him like tiny human missiles. Their tiny footsteps pattered against the floor, and before Lando could even turn around, two little missiles launched themselves at him.

“DADDYYYYY!”

Lando barely had time to react before they tackled him. “Oi, oi, what’s this? what are you two doing? It’s way past your bedtime.” he laughed, quickly muting his mic as the two little ones climbed onto his lap like they owned the place.

Noah pouted. “Not sleepy.”

Leo, the youngest one, rubbed his little fists over his eyes, betraying the fact that he was absolutely sleepy but fighting it like a true warrior. “I miss Mommy.” His voice wobbled slightly, and his big brown eyes were already glassy with unshed tears.

And just like that, Lando felt his heart squeeze.

Lando instantly softened. He didn’t even hesitate before pausing the game and wrapping both kids in his arms. “Oh, come here,” he murmured, setting his controller aside to properly hold them. He knew Y/N was off having her well-deserved girls’ trip, but apparently, bedtime was a struggle without her.

“You miss Mommy, huh?” he murmured, pressing kisses onto their soft little heads.

Both boys nodded, Noah sniffing as he clung to his dad’s hoodie. “Yeah. When’s mommy coming back?”

Lando rubbed soothing circles on their backs. “She’s having her girl’s trip. She’ll be back in a few days.”

Leo sniffled dramatically. “That’s so looooong.”

“Oi, don’t be dramatic,” Lando teased gently. “You guys have me! Isn’t that enough?”

Noah wrinkled his nose. “Mmm…”

Max burst into laughter on the other end of the call. “Oh my God, your own kid just humbled you.”

Lando sighed. “Alright, you wanna help me with the game?”

Noah nodded enthusiastically. Leo, already making himself at home on Lando’s lap, rested his cheek against his dad’s chest. “Wanna help,” he mumbled sleepily.

Lando grinned and handed them his spare controller, even though it wasn’t actually connected. “Alright, but we keep it chill.”

The next few minutes were absolute chaos. Noah kept pointing at things on the screen, bombarding Lando with rapid-fire questions. “What’s that? Who’s that guy? Why did you do that? Can I do that?”

Lando answered every single one patiently while simultaneously trying not to get eliminated in-game. Meanwhile, Leo was just pressing random buttons on his fake controller, babbling nonsense as if he was actually playing. Occasionally, he’d giggle in pure delight, making Lando’s heart melt on the spot.

Max, amused, decided to include chat. “Alright, boys, say hi to chats.”

Noah, ever the confident one, waved. “Hello, Chats!”

Leo, though, hesitated before tilting his head. “Umm… who we talking to? What they look like? I can’t see them daddy” His little voice, still holding onto that babyish lisp, made the words even more adorable.

Lando, Max, and literally everyone in chat laughing out loud.

Lando actually had to take a deep breath from laughing. “They’re… um, they’re just watching through the screen, buddy. They’re just like you.”

Leo frowned, like he was trying very hard to understand. Then, after a long moment, he nodded. “Okay. Hi, people in the screen!”

The chat exploded

“THE BABIES ARE HERE EVERYONE STAY CALM”

“Leo is literally the cutest thing ever”

“Noah asking 500 questions per second LMAO”

“Y/N better watch out, Lando violated the children's screen time.”

“They miss their mama :(((((”

Lando, still grinning, let them push random buttons as the game continued. It was chaotic, to say the least—Noah kept trying to actually play, while Leo just mashed buttons with all the confidence of a pro-gamer. Lando didn’t even care that they were losing horrendously; seeing them smile made it worth it.

But soon enough, it was obvious that tiredness was creeping in. Leo’s blinks were getting slower, and Noah, while still trying to act tough, was yawning every few minutes.

Lando glanced at the time. “Alright. One last round, then it’s bedtime.”

Noah groaned. “But—”

“No buts!” Lando cut in, ruffling his hair.

As the game went on, Noah continued to give commentary like a tiny sports analyst, and Leo just… slowly melted against Lando, his chubby cheek squished adorably against his dad’s chest.

Lando stood carefully, cradling Leo in one arm while holding Noah’s hand with the other. “Alright, chat, I gotta go be a dad now. Thanks for hanging out, and I’ll see you all next time.”

Max smirked. “Gotta keep Dad Lando’s rep as the best bedtime storyteller, huh?”

Lando grinned. “Exactly.”

By the time it ended, Lando was ready to sign off. He gave the camera a fond smile. “Thanks for hanging out—Noah, say bye.”

“Bye, people!”

Lando turned to Leo, who was now fully slumped against him, half-asleep. “Leo, say bye.”

Leo, eyes barely open, mumbled, “Bye, screen people.”

As Lando wrapped up the stream, the chat was already buzzing with questions.

“Awwwww Leo knocked out”

“Noah be like ‘one more game’ energy”

“GOODNIGHT BABIES”

“Where’s y/n?”

Before turning off the stream, Lando replied “Y/N’s having a girls' trip, so I’m on dad duty. And these two little spiderman need to sleep before I get in trouble!”

“Alright, bedtime, you little spiderman.”

Noah yawned. “Can we call mommy first?”

Lando smiled. “Of course, mate. Let’s go tuck in and give her a call.”

And with that, he carried his sleeping toddler and led his other sleepy one down the hall, heart full, and already excited to tell Y/N all about their little adventure.

Lando and Noah was quietly talking with Y/N in their shared bed, Leo stirred at the sound of their voices. Still half-asleep, he shuffled closer, rubbing his eyes.

“Mommy,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “I talk to screen people.”

Lando chuckled softly, smoothing Leo’s curls. “Yeah, you did, buddy.”

Y/N’s voice came through the phone. “Did he really?”

Noah immediately jumped in. “Mommy, when are you coming home? I miss you.”

Leo pouted, now fully awake and climbing onto Lando’s chest. “Come home, mommy.”

Lando sighed dramatically, squeezing them both. “Yeah, when are you coming home? We’re suffering over here.”

Y/N just smiled on the screen, watching her boys pile up on Lando. “I’ll be home soon.”

Lando huffed, leaning his head back against the pillow. “Not soon enough.”

The boys continued to mumble sleepy protests, but eventually, exhaustion won over. One by one, they drifted off, little hands clutching Lando’s hoodie.

As he looked at Y/N on the screen, he sighed. “Seriously, though. I miss you.”

Y/N’s gaze softened. “I know.”

Lando groaned playfully, nuzzling his cheek against Leo’s soft curls. “Hurry up and come back already.”

She just smiled again. “Sleep, Lando.”

He yawned, wrapping his arms around the boys. “Fine. But only ‘cause I’m exhausted.”

And with that, he fell asleep, his family safely tucked around him, waiting for Y/N to come home.

END

[reyalvr]

SHE'S MINE | 01

I'M ALL IN, I CAN'T REVERSE IT-

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊  3.2k

author’s note ┊ WOOHOO part one finally out! thank you so much for all the love on the prologue, it made me so motivated to make this as good as possible hehe >.< each chapter title is based off of a lyric in my writing playlist for this series, lmk if you guys would like me to drop it  ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶. happy reading!

prev. | next

KEN KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP SHIT. Knee deep, even. If you asked him what was going through his head thirty seconds ago, he wouldn’t be able to tell you even if he wanted to. Everything that happened next was a blur- from shaking hands with the host to walking back to his dressing room, it felt like he was operating on autopilot. Who wouldn’t be, though? He had just announced to the world that he was officially taken; that he was off the market- hooked. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a problem if it were true…

But it wasn’t. 

He had just lied to an audience of a hundred people- not to mention the millions throughout the various streaming platforms the show was being aired on. His nails dug into his palm as he neared his dressing room, the bold, black letters of his name growing larger and larger each step he took. His heart was pounding, and he swore he felt chill down his spine the moment he opened the door. No one could blame him though, not if they knew the inevitable wrath they were about to face. 

You were stood there, eyes narrowed and resting all your weight on your hip. Your arms were crossed, your lips were pursed. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, staring at each other as you waited for the other to speak up. Ken swallowed nervously, tapping his foot as he tried formulating an explanation. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he was so overstrung, it was just you. Why should he be terrified of your scolding on his recent screw up? 

“Special someone, huh?” You said through your teeth, finally breaking the tense silence in the room. “So special that nobody on your team knew of her prior to your public love confession?” 

Ah. That was why. The way you were able to see right through him scared him sometimes. He never outwardly showed his reactions, though- at least he tried not to. He cleared his throat before finally moving to plop down on the couch, doing his damndest not to show his jitters. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I lied, so what?” He replied, his cocky tone masking the unsureness in his words. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it.” 

Strike one. As if you couldn’t have been any more pissed off, that seemed to be the tipping point. You paused before letting out a deep breath, circling around him. He closed his eyes when he knew you were behind him, and he waited for you to berate him; to remind him of the consequences of his actions. He waited, but it never came. He opened one eye, and he relaxed when you moved to sit on the opposite couch. He was spared… for now.

“What, no scolding?” He decided to test, tilting his head to the side as he watched you. 

You only let out a small laugh, and somehow that was worse than any scolding he’d ever received from you. You were oddly calm, like all your anger had just melted away. Leaning forward, you slid an enclosed piece of paper across the table towards him. 

“Can you guess what this is, Ken?” You ask, your eyes finally looking back up to meet his. 

Ken knew not to answer. He was ready to spit out some witty reply, but the look in your eyes told him that this was going to go down another route; one that he definitely didn’t want to aggravate. 

“It’s my resignation letter.” You say nonchalantly, causing him to straighten up once more. “I keep it handy.”

Resignation letter? Was this real? Were you actually going to quit over this? He opened his mouth to speak up but quickly shut it when you maintained your soul-searching gaze. He tried to relax, yet the furrow in his eyebrows seemed to stay as you continued on. 

“I’m going to be very clear on what’s going to happen next, Ken.” You say, resting your arms on your knees. “This will be the last time I help you clear up a mishap. After everything is settled, I’m gone.” 

Gone. His eyes widened slightly, the palms of his hands starting to get clammy. He let out a light, nervous laugh, looking at you as if you had just said something absurd. Which, in his defense, you sort of did. Again, he had no idea why this news was so shocking to him, seeing as you’d only worked under him for a year and a half. Surely he couldn’t have been that terrible, right? He stared at the folded paper in front of him before speaking up.

“What, uh, what do you mean gone?” He asked through a breathy laugh. “Gone like a break or something? I’m happy to give you one-”

“Gone as in I quit.” You cut him off, standing up as you adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. “Like I said, this is the last time I clean up your mess, Ken Sato.” 

You moved to walk away, but he quickly caught your arm. “Woah, hold on a sec,” He stood up, looking down at you with stunned eyes. “Quit? C’mon, [Y/N] I know I screwed up but you can’t just leave me hanging like this-” 

You scoffed at him then, yanking your arm out of his grasp. “Oh I can’t leave you hanging, huh? Tell me, Ken, how many times have I saved your ass in the last eighteen months I’ve been working for you, hm?”

He swallowed dryly as he tried to recall. He was used to having his name on headlines, most especially after his move last year. He couldn’t go five seconds without seeing his ads pop up on his platforms, hell he couldn’t even go five blocks without seeing a billboard with his face on it. Which all brought him back to one thing: not one negative scandal under his name. With you, he was perfect; jack of all trades in the MLB and the internet’s favorite spokesperson. 

Shit. Strike two. 

You only hummed in response once you read over his expression. “Exactly. So the next time you even think about downplaying my job, remember how I was the reason for your recent success.”

Ken was at a loss for words. Rarely was he ever left speechless, he always seemed to have a response ready for anything. But now was definitely not one of those times. He watched as you bent down to retrieve that dreaded letter, and you shoved it into his chest before moving to finally walk past him. 

“Our flight leaves tomorrow at five a.m, I'll see you in the lobby at three.” You say, not so much as sparing him a glance as you fixed your bag. 

He managed to let out a quiet ‘okay’, gripping onto your letter tightly as he watched you pack up. Damn Ken, you really did it this time, didn’t you? He thought to himself, wondering how- or rather, if he would be able to make things right with you. For the first time in his career, he was thinking about someone else other than himself. 

“Oh and Ken,” You say, breaking him out of his dazed stance. 

“Hm?” He hummed out, averting his gaze to be level with yours. 

“You had better pray that the next assistant you get is half as good as I am.” You said before closing the door, leaving him alone in his dressing room. All of a sudden it felt… quiet. Too quiet. He sighed, dropping down on the couch once more before closing his eyes and masking his face with his hands.

Strike three. 

THE TENSION IN THE CAR WAS PAINSTAKINGLY PALPABLE. Ken’s leg bounced as the two of you were stuck in airport traffic, the car unmoving for nearly half an hour now. Your occasional sighs and the hum of the car’s engine were the only sounds filling the air. He felt like he was going crazy. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly the night before thanks to your bombshell of an announcement. In comparison, though, he probably shouldn’t be complaining about bombshells when he himself dropped one twice the size of yours. 

Still, he was restless. You hadn’t uttered a single word to him since landing back in Tokyo, and the unwanted solitude was driving him nuts. He glanced over at you through his shades, noting the way you were impatiently tapping your fingers against the wheel. Obviously you were still pissed at his little stunt, and the articles following the incident didn’t aid in calming your anger. 

He knew it wasn’t smart, but he needed to talk to you. The sea of red lights in front of him remained stagnant, and he didn’t want to spend another minute in this deafening quietude. He gnawed at his bottom lip before finally breaking the silence. 

“Can we talk?” He said, looking over at you. 

“No.” You replied bluntly.

“[Y/N]-” He started, but one glance from you was enough to shut him up. 

“I am doing you a huge favor by helping you solve the mess you created.” You said as you looked back at the road ahead of you, lifting your fingers and circling your thumbs around the wheel. “I could’ve left right then and there, leaving you to deal with this on your own. But I didn’t, I don’t know why, but I didn’t.”

You looked back up at him, and only now did he notice the circles under your eyes and the paleness of your complexion. Something inside him twisted; he couldn’t tell if it was guilt or regret. Guilt, probably, for having to rely on you to correct his mistakes, and regret for even causing this whole debacle in the first place. 

“The least I’m asking from you is your compliance.” You say tiredly, the glint in your eyes doing most of the talking. 

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He managed to get out, leaning back into the passenger seat. 

And just like that, the dreaded silence was back. By some miracle the traffic started to gain some speed, the taillights of the cars ahead of him dispersing onto the road. His head hit the back of the headrest, and he sat through the entire ride back to the Tokyo Dome contemplating his recent choices. 

It was only when you knocked on the window of the passenger side when he realized he had finally reached his destination. He got out, stretching his limbs after being cramped inside the car for so long. He threw on his jacket lazily, not even bothering to zip it up. He went to put on his cap, but then he noticed something odd. 

It was quiet outside the building, the bristle of the trees and the nearby roads the only sound filling his ears. There was something lacking; the neverending shuttering sounds of cameras and eager voices yelling at him to look or to say something. He realized then the lack of paparazzi and reporters outside to greet him, just like they usually did whenever he came back from a trip. His head turned, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked around. Not a single one in sight.

“‘Something wrong?” You asked as you walked past him to swipe your ID into the security system. 

“It’s just,” He said, still looking around in confusion. He let out an airy laugh as he followed you inside, the expression on his face remaining the same. “There’s no paps or anything.”

At that you laugh, albeit sarcastically, waiting for him to get into the elevator. “You know that might be the first time I’ve ever heard a famous person complain about not being bombarded by ill-intent people.” 

“I’m not complaining, trust me.” He says, putting his hands up halfway in defense. “It’s weird. That’s all.” 

“Well that’s what happens when people think you’re spending time with your special someone after being away for so long.” You say, pulling up a press announcement on your phone. 

For a split second, Kenji had completely forgotten that he had to keep up the fact that he supposedly had a significant other waiting for him at home. He let out an ‘ah’, sliding his hands into his pockets as the elevator went up. Again his heart panged, finally realizing why your eyebags were deeper than they usually were. While he may have had discomfort in his slumber, it didn’t compare to the hours you were up trying to get everything settled here.

You held the door open to your office, letting him in first. Once the lights were on, he was greeted with your infamous whiteboard, different scribbles of colorful ink filling up the space corner to corner. He cringed at the bolded date of the talk show he was on. 

“Your bags will be sent here in the next hour, and valet has your bike ready.” You say, doing the usual routine you did whenever the both of you came back from work trips. He sat down on the sofa, nodding each time you reminded him of something. 

“Now, about the issue,” You walk over to the whiteboard, erasing its contents. “We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” 

He choked on nothing, not surprised by the news but surprised by the continued bluntness of your tone. “I beg your pardon?”

“We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” You repeated, emphasizing the words obnoxiously. 

“Yeah I get that,” He finally replied, a look of uncertainty splashing his features. “But you’re making it sound like all we need to do is shop around.”

“Well unless you can give me a face, let alone a name to your special someone, this is the plan we have.” You retort, resting a hand at your hip as the other points at the board. 

“Why can’t I just be one of those celebrities who keep their relationship private?” He questions genuinely. 

“Oh I’m sorry, who was the one who announced that they were in love on live television?” You remind him, annoyance laced in your words. 

He bites back any sort of sarcastic remark that conjures up in the back of his head. You were right, obviously you were right. But some part of him felt it was… unfair to not have a say in this. Stupid, yes, but it’s how he felt.

“Can I continue or is there anything else you want to unnecessarily add?” You ask, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. 

He only lifted a hand, signaling for you to carry on. You go on to explain that whoever ends up “dating” him will need to have to go through a contract signing, NDA included. You draw up charts on your board, showing him the possible stats of his ratings if he’ll be able to pull this off. 

“Your next playoff season is about to start, I suggest we get all this settled by then.” You scroll on your smartwatch, looking at the calendar. “It gives me two weeks to plan everything out. I need you here tomorrow bright and early so that we can go through a list of potential candidates.”

“Candidates? What is this, speed-dating?” He says, making a face at all the analytical parts of your plan. 

“No, it’s a game called ‘save-my-reputation.’” You answer snarkily, narrowing your eyes slightly at him. 

He takes in a deep breath, starting to get annoyed with your remarks. He knew he had no right to, but to think that you were just dictating away at his choices made him feel like some sort of plaything. 

“I just don’t understand why we even need to find a ‘girlfriend’ in the first place.” He massages the back of his head before crossing his arms. “I mean everyone thinks I’ve successfully hidden my love life up until now, what’s the point of going all out?”

He could see you clench your fingers around the marker, and he knew he was close to reaching your tipping once more. All in the span of twenty-four hours. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke up.

“Ken. You told the world that you were in love.” You say in an eerily calm tone. “You got yourself into this mess, now you have to get yourself out of it. And unless you want to say goodbye to your stardom, this is what you need to do.” 

He opened his mouth to speak up but was cut off by your phone’s ringing. You answered, spewing out a quick and formal ‘thank you’ to whoever was on the other line. You sighed, placing your marker back down on your desk before you walked past him towards the glass door. 

“Your bags are here.” You say, opening the door. “Your bike’s parked outside and everything should be good to go.” 

Your demeanor had changed in a split second, going from PR manager to assistant in the blink of an eye. At times Ken wondered how you were able to juggle everything. It wasn’t the main thing that was on his mind, he had… other, more serious things to worry about. Like the other secret he had kept from you all this time; Ultraman. He shook his head, trying not to focus on his double life on top of the situation he was in. 

Ken knew that your words were a sign to get up and get out, and he did just that. You followed him all the way back down to the lobby of the stadium, handing him his duffel bag and walking him to his bike. Despite your earlier mood, you did your checks on his motorbike that he had grown accustomed to after a while. 

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” You remind him, crossing your arms as he got on his bike. “Please.”

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” He repeats through a huff, slinging his bag into the compartment attached to the back of his motorbike. “Got it.” 

You only hummed in response, turning away to walk back into the stadium. He didn’t know what it was that came over him, but before he knew it he was grabbing your arm softly once more. Your head spun around to look at him, more of your stray hairs spilling out of your updo. At this angle the sunset brought out the shininess of your eyes, the early evening shadows accentuating your features. 

He swallowed before he continued. “You know for what it’s worth, I really am sorry.” 

Instead of another curt response, though, you sighed as you pressed your lips together. He lets go of your arm then, not wanting to invade anymore of your personal space than he already has. He can see you poke your tongue into your cheek, a habit you did when you were in contemplation. 

“Well,” You finally breathe out, your expression relaxing. “If you’re actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.” 

“‘Course.” He says before his face gets obscured by his helmet. He nods towards your direction once more before finally revving the engine. 

Only time will tell what the outcome is, but whatever it is, he hopes he ends up in the one where you don’t loathe his very being. 

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

[tonycries]

BUMPIN' THAT!

Synopsis. Handle with care? More like manhandIe - he likes it rough.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, manhandIing, STRONG boys, breaking beds, chokíng, matíng presses, BREÉDING, creampíes, overstím, oraI (fem rec), pússydrúnk men, GOJO’S POWERS, true form Sukuna, dp, SUKUNA’S MOUTHS, cúmplay, innaprópriate use of jujutsu, exhibítionísm (Geto), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 6.1k

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

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - TIMBERRR

“Tch, this- damn- bed- can’t even hear my pretty girl.” Toji gruffs out - fuming. Thick fingers gliding down your shifty thighs to spread them into a full nelson so wide. So loud. “Ohh- c’mon now, ma. J-jus’ one more- you wanna make hah- Megs a big brother, right?”

This was what had your husband so relentless for hours now. 

This single dream of you all around and glowing because of him was enough to have him puff out a heady pant of laughter into the crook of your neck. Laughter - he was gone. 

“B-but the bed can’t hck! take anymore, Toji.” 

And Toji doesn’t care - doesn’t give a single shit about the way the poor bed frame rickets with a symphony of creaks after every slow gyration. But you do, apparently.

With a pointed scoff, his big beefy arms circle around your squirming waist to trap you to his hulky body. Branding the curve of his fat head into your clingy walls so hard that it makes you see stars-

CRACK!

“Heh, whoops…guess the bed isn’t a problem anymore, doll.”

Now, usually Toji Fushiguro was one to keep his inhuman strength in check. Usually, he didn’t go overboard. 

Usually. 

But oh he couldn’t bring it in himself to feel even an ounce of regret when you gasp. Whirling your drunken eyes around to meet his sleazy grin - he knew what he was doing. 

Pecking a trailway of innocent kisses down your thoroughly tear-glossed cheeks, Toji licks a languid line up the salty taste. And he’s still not stopping. Hell, he’s not even slowing down - could barely even imagine it.

Because Toji Fushiguro is out of control. Feral. Jostling his hips upwards into yours to rummage around your stretchy walls. His thick shaft spreads your gummy channel open oh-so-perfectly to nudge up against your hidden sweet spots, rotund cockhead shooting out wet sloshes of precum.

“Y-you did that on purpose.” you moan.

“Hmm, did I?” he takes a few seconds to mockingly ponder, dark brows knitting across his sweat-sheened forehead in concern. Before grinning, “Yeah- heh, yeah I did-” Barely even giving you the time to snap back before he’s forcing his relentless, fatigued limbs standing upright. Dragging you in midair right along with him - held up so pliantly like some ragdoll in a full nelson hooked underneath your dangling legs. “-but I don’t hear hngh- her complainin’.”

God, if anything it was the opposite.

Because your sloppy cunt was talking for you. Wrenching out the most obscenely syrupy squelches that make Toji’s mouth water. 

Dragging his tongue down his lips and toying with the edge of his scar in a way he wishes he could with your slobbery pussy. “L-look at that. She’s m-more than happy to be all filled up- she’s practically hngh- begging for one more. Isn’t she?”

And you could hear the way that Toji’s deep baritone cracks at the very end. It didn’t even sound like him - unsteady and hot. Begging.

Muscles flexing when he bounces you up and down- You didn’t even know if he was in control of his heavenly restriction at this point.

Bulging biceps bruise into your tender skin when he’s slamming you bent over all prettily onto the cool mahogany surface of your desk. One leg hiking upwards, the other kneeing open your boneless thighs wider. Pound after heavy pound that rattles the furniture against the wall. 

“This won’t do-” he groans, circling the very ends of his fingers around your stretched hole. Stuffing back those creamy dredges of remnants from his cum from just before, “-told ya to t-take it not waste it.”

He’s so mean. Gifting the curve of your pussymound with a sharp swat! that leaves syrupy splatters of seed glossing all down Toji’s palm. His wrist. All for him to dart out a tongue down the filthy mess, before plugging back into your overspilling pussy. 

“M-maybe you should just- ah-” You struggle uselessly in his hold, your bumbling mess of babbles so sweet in his ears that it makes his sensitive cock twitch. “-fill me up all over a-again, baby-”

Oh.

Oh.

Now, he knew you were thoroughly drunken on his cock, but he didn’t think you were already this fucked stupid. Fuck twitching - Toji thinks he could cum right then and there. 

“Ah f-fuck- s’that what my pretty mama wants, hm?” Uncharacteristically gently, he’s swiping away a few stray plaster pieces that had fallen their way down from the wall. “Wan’ me to fill this c-cute cunt ‘ntil she heh- can’t fit anymore, huh?” Bruising now. His hip bones on your ass, fingers around your hips, twitchy balls so heavy and smacking away against your drooling pussy. Veiny knuckles of his clasp around the edge of the desk to fuck you like he hates you. Out of control. “To f-fuck her until she- haah- makes me a daddy a-all over again?”

“Yes!” you’re nodding half-lucidly. Shaky fingers clawing their way over the expensive desk, those office documents you really should’ve been working on, allll the way around to drag red, red lines down Toji’s throat. “Need it- hngh- n-need more Toji so badly-”

And he gulps, eyes glassing over with fucking tears at the sting. So good. Hissing, “F-filthy girl.” Two of his fat fingers dance their groping way down to your plump clit and pinches, “Then ya better take it- all-”

You see white-hot electricity pass by yours eyes when you cum - or maybe that was the way that Toji fucks up his orgasm into you like an animal. 

Feral.

Wave after wave of thick seed being milked so thoroughly by your gripping walls. It makes him slump every muscle of his towering body drained, he’s falling onto two pathetic elbows to crush you underneath his bodyweight. 

There’s so much of him. And Toji only has to blink. He only has to crack his dewy eyes open a mere millimeter, one sneaking glance downwards at your gaping cunt before-

THUD!

“Oh, mama—” he gasps - and you do, too. But not for the same reason as Toji, no, because you’re just now noticing that your desk was sagging suspiciously low. 

You don’t get to ask since when, because in a split-second, you’re being wrangled onto all fours on the floor. 

Still not done. Still not pulling out. Still not slowing down a singular second, Toji rests one of his feet on top of your head. Hard. “Can’t break the f-floor now…can we?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Evil twin?!

“Y-you want me to what?” Nanami’s husky baritone quakes - trembling at your little request. Jittery fingers sensually smack! smack! smacking his sodden tip down onto your sweet sopping pussy lips. Filthy. “Be rough? Are you sure, my love?”

“Of course, Ken. I trust you–” you’re batting your lashes up at your half-delirious husband in a way that makes his lower lip wobble. “It’ll be a good way to de-stress, dontcha think?”

Is he in heaven?

Nanami curls his fingers around that velvety yellow tie he didn’t even bother removing after his overtime.

And he’s so soft when he’s kissing away the pearly beads of sweat on your forehead, dragging his plump lips down, down, down to press pretty peck after peck on your lips. Hushly whispering, “B-but the kids are just down the hall- we don’t ah- don’t want them to wake up…”

You only grin, “Then you better make sure I stay quiet, hm?”

And that string of slurring words makes Nanami pant, it makes his glassy hazel eyes widen almost comically- and, truly, you’d almost forgotten just what your powerful husband was capable of. 

Just how ruthless. 

Because it doesn’t take even a split-second for him to flip you onto all fours. You yelp when that tie of his finds its way to tie your wrists together. All but ripping your silky nightgown, and you…moan.

Oh? He jostles two thumbs to smear your soaking folds open and smiles. How cute.

“S’fuckin’ drenched-” Nanami hisses. Strained. In awe. Peaking in one syrupily coated finger into his mouth and moaning. And you just gasp when you’re being gifted with a bruising smack! right around the rim of your entrance, slobbering out a fresh wave of sweet, sweet slick. “-s’this all f’me, darling?”

“Y-yes-”

Swat!

“Ah ah- none of that. Big girls don’t stutter.”

All you can do is whirl your eyes back over your shoulder because who is this? 

But what you’re met with is the utterly sexy display of your ruined husband - strands of his blond hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed, eyes wild. Heaving. Like something primal was just awoken…

Clutching onto the wrinkled sheets, you mewl, “Yes- s’all for you, Kento–”

Shit. You watch as his rosy lips sag open into an oh! before craning downwards to spit a silky rivulet of saliva right into your glistening pussy. 

And even after so many years, even after having kids, you’d still never gotten used to the way Nanami’s girth would split you apart so sinfully. How massive he was. Barging between your pursed lips to feed you inch after hefty inch of his girth, they’re dragging out the most sinful squelches from down below. And from your mouth-

“Shh sh sh-” He’s covering your slack maw shut with all five long fingers, and you keen at the cool contrast of Nanami’s wedding ring. “Quietly- love- quiet. You can do it- ah- y-you can take my fuckin’ cock, m’kay?”

Nanami’s words were every bit of gentleness that his hips weren’t. 

Fucking into you in languid, deep strokes to swipe a steamy wave of precum down your sweetest spots. It was too much-

“W-where do you think you’re going, my love?” 

Fuck.

You didn’t even realize the way that your helpless fingers were closing in around the headboard, gyrating your hips away from the thoroughly mean crashes of your husband’s cock. Blinking away the big, bulbous tears in your eyes, you muffle out a whiny, “S-sorry Ken-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” Without warning, five harsh fingers wrap around your tender throat in a vice-like necklace - hauling your limp body up against his front. “If you’re really s-sorry, darling, wontcha be a good girl n’ open that mouth f’me?”

Usually, your husband was the absolute sweetest. Mumbling out sweet praises into your ear and helping you take your time to milk him whole. 

But right now Nanami was impatient. 

He was out of control - like a completely different person.

Treating you like some ragdoll when he’s tugging down your mouth open with a few calloused pads of his fingers. Leering his handsome face closer to spit. 

Missing halfway - on purpose.

Nanami chuckles when he’s lolling his pinkish tongue out to swipe at the translucent splatters. Pinning you to his cushiony pecs with that rough restraint, he’s slanting a syrupy sweet kiss at the corner of your mouth. “Good- fuckin’- girl-”

And the bed creaks. The bed protests - headboard rickety when Nanami slams! one veined arm down and rams everything he has to give - seconds away from shattering, both him and the bedframe. Everything. 

Shit-

Shit shit shi- he swears you just got wetter.

Nanami gapes, powerful hips thrusting and thrusting until your ass scratches up against that golden happy trail running through the middle of his abs. Weepy, rotund head probing against your spongy cervix and just the slight recoil that had him parting stickily from it makes him almost sob. 

“There we go- thereee we go-” Nanami rattles out, hollowed. Every squeeze of your clingy walls around his throbbing shaft was so cozy, fucking you into the mattress until his skin reddened. “-there we fuckin’ go- s’what you hngh- wanted, right? Wanted to be fucked like such a slut?”

“Please-” you’re hiccuping, now fully bent into such an obscene curve and wrangling uselessly. “-yes-  yes yes yes feel s’good-”

You’re drooling now, lips falling further and further open with every French kiss Nanami was placing on your bruised and battered g-spot. Dangerously so.

Dangerously loud.

With a proud chuckle, he’s slapping another dripping wet swat on your plump clit - glissading your presoaked slit. Before bullying between your soft lips to swirl his fat digits around your tongue. Deep. Forcing you to taste yourself. 

His gruff moan is dark. Promising. “Told ya to be quiet. The kids are asleep n’ we don’t n-need them to know they’re gonna be ngh- b-big siblings, yet. Right, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - An example…

Now, to Geto Suguru, sex was an art. Sex was the time he could toy with your pretty pussy until you were crying for more, more, more-

So- why is he here - strong limbs jostling your own into such a painful mating press, swollen cockhead battering and bruising away at your bulging g-spot with each pound. Furious. 

All in front of his association, to boot.

Because, Geto Suguru was angry. 

“Ngh- please Suguru- more-”

“What was that?” he’s leering down, lips curled into such a feral grin that was splashed across his pretty features. And you couldn’t answer even if you wanted to, because he’s forcing your knees down to push against your bouncing tits. Folding you utterly in half, he turns to your audience. “Do you think she ah- deserves to speak?”

Through your lusty haze, you don’t get to see the answers. But Geto spits out a husking, “Speak.”

The entire room jolts at his eerie sweet voice - dangerous. Roughened around the edges in a tone he’d never used on you before. 

Batting away a few glistening tears on your lashes, you mumble, “M-m’sorry for ah- costing us the m-mission-”

“Shut up.” And he’s planting a smack onto the sensitive spot on your plump clit so hard that you’re seeing stars - suns, even. Slowing down his mean cadence to carve down every gooey sensitive spot inside you with his throbbing veins. Every rasping word of his was hoarse, punctuated with a thorough clash against the very bottom of your pussy. Pushing your legs up so tight you hear your joints pop! “Do you hngh- know how much I- we trusted you, gorgeous?”

Your nails leave raking red lines down his flexing back, and the way his muscles shifted underneath your touch was drool-worthy. “I-I know- m’sorry-”

“All because ya got a little distracted by the fuck- strongest-” 

And, truly, Geto admits that perhaps he was there to watch you carry out your little spy mission. He admits that the sight of you batting your lashes at a certain sorcerer had him clenching his teeth harder than necessary. Fuming. 

Because you were his. 

It has him looming over the delicate crook of your neck, so up close and personal that every heated pant feels condensed. And he can’t think - can’t do anything but sink his teeth down hard into your skin. Enough to draw blood-

“Fuck! Sugu-” you cry out. “It w-won’t happen again, I promise-”

“Heh, you sure?” Geto grins, but he can’t hide the way the pale column of his neck falls to swipe his inky black hair out of his face. Crushing you like a lawnchair in half, he’s twisting his strong forearm to block your heaving airway. “What do we think? Is our lovely hngh- second-in-command sorry?”

It takes you a few seconds to register he’s not even talking to you, and even more to register the soft, murmuring answers.

You don’t have the right state to even try and understand them right now - but luckily for you, Geto snarls his way into a clash of teeth and lips with yours. Tugging hard on your glossed lower lip, “Better not fuckin’ mess up again.”

Oh, he was still fucking you so furiously. 

Wrestling your pathetically droopy legs further and further up his sculpted deltoids, you’re sure that the tatami mat below would be patterned on your back already. One hand of his cranes behind his neck to pin your ankles together. And Geto-

Shit, Geto was letting his jaw hang slack - drooling. Eyes locked on you and you only.

Whispering, “You’re mine.” The headlock only growing tighter. Dangerous. You didn’t know whether it was from the lack of air or from his ruthless rummages at your mushy walls but it had you so lightheaded. He slides a thumb down your soaking wet slit and presses onto the button of your clit. Hard. “Y-you’re mine here-” Then up, up, up to about halfway down your stomach, splaying out to feel for the lewd nudge of his fat, burning hot head thump! thump! thumping against the insides of your pussy. Inflating you from the inside out. “-and you’re mine here-” Before finally - finally - pressing a saturated kiss onto your lips, as he usually would. “-and here.”

Your leader looked utterly ruined. 

And it’s not long - not long at all - before his sloppy strokes get almost painfully filthy. Before he feels stars burst behind his firmly scrunched shut lids, and his thwacking balls clench. Building and building-

“Open that mouth- fuck! Open it-” Geto hiccups out, plump lower lip trembling at the sheer need. And the very moment your lips are opening just wide enough - he’s pulling out. Your disappointed whine falling on deaf ears when Geto drags himself up to straddle your pretty face with his thick, muscular thighs. And he cums. “Take it- hngh- you’ll fuckin’ take it alll up- wontcha?”

Creamy ribbons of his seed splat their way right onto the middle of your tastebuds and it makes Geto huff out a drunken bout of laughter at the mess he’s making. Thick fingers flying up and down to milk out every pearly ounce of his cum onto your face. 

Heh, it’s not a bad punishment - he’s musing.

Guiding to swipe the curve of his reddened tip along your trembly lips like a little lipstick. You look so much like his that he can’t help but cum- again. And again. And again and again and-

“Sh-shit look what ya do to me-” Geto moans, and you swear it cracks into a whine at the very end. “I can’t- oh fuck- can’t stop.”

He wouldn’t stop - he couldn’t.

Greedy gaze locked on you, one massive palm slams! somewhere above your head to hunch his toned body over. Geto’s entire body wracks violently above you with each shuddering wave. Filthy. “Can’t be a-anyone- can’t be anyone else. B-because…you’re mine, right?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Candy Crush

Oh…if heaven exists then it would be right here, right now - with Choso desperately stuffing himself into your thinly-clothed cunt for the first time ever. Breathing- no, gulping in deep heavals of your essence in a way that makes his dewy eyes roll back. 

“B-baby- my pretty baby…are you sure?” he’s gasping out in feverishly hot puffs of condensation. And despite the tiny tremor of uncertainty in his voice, he’s spreading your thighs even further open all for him.

You huff out a drunken giggle, tugging impatiently at one of his sweat-dampened locks. “M’sure, Cho- really need you.”

“Oh, d-don’t say that-” he’s hiccuping, coral pink lips wobbling. And you feel the back of Choso’s thumb swipe down the puffy mound of your soaked pussy, smearing down a wet coating all over his slender digits. “I-I can’t when you say things like that- oh-”

Anything and everything that Choso was babbling is thrown out of the window with just one darting lick at the sloppy dredges of your sweet, sweet slick on his fingers. With an electric-like jolt, he’s popping it into his mouth to suck. That syrupy taste enough to have him bucking his achy erection down hard into the plush mattress. 

To have him gape, “B-baby…”

And before you know it, he’s dragging you halfway down the mattress like a toy to roughly attach his lips with your own swollen ones - too hasty, too depraved to even think of pulling aside your sticky panties. Strong forearms pinning your squirming thighs so hard to the bed that you half-wonder whether it would bruise. His heated tongue darts through and around that sliver of fabric - tasting it.

“Y-you’re ngh! liking this, baby?” you coo, threading your fingers through his strands in a useless attempt to get an answer - but Choso barely budges. Biceps flexing when he cushions you to his body even tigher. “How are you f-feeling?”

It takes him a few seconds to even hear your words - too wrapped up tonguing away your absolutely ruined panties to swirl a sensual circle around your saturated clit. Groaning gingerly, “It feels- ngh- feels like I could cum from j-jus’ this.”

And he was being so honest that it made Choso blush - a bright crimson flush that started from his hollow cheeks and all the way down to his bawling, reddish head. Hips rutting over and over into the silken sheets, but he couldn’t spare a hand to fuck into it right now.

None at all - because Choso needed to have you cum all over his face before he did himself. 

So you gasp when he drags his tongue away with a final, spit-slicked smooch right on your puffy clit. Whimpering out a soft, “R-ride my face, baby–”

That nod of yours is just barely done halfway through, just barely moving your head affirmative before with a sudden nudge of his soft, mountainous palms on your hips - you’re straddling Choso’s pretty face. And he’s not letting you hover - no, the complete opposite, in fact.

You’re being manhandled with a rough hand around your waist to drag your full weight onto Choso’s greedy mouth. Puckering up to plunge his tongue into your sloppy entrance, swirling around a wet circle at your rim before fucking into you.

Pure animal instinct - he’s so messy.

Muffling out a throaty, “S-so sweet- fuck- like candy. S-s’this right? Does this feel good- ah-” Those half-lidded eyes of his are immediately latching onto the way a few of your trembly fingers were dancing their way down to your neglected clit. 

Your boyfriend - your sweet, gentle boyfriend - is swatting away that hand rudely. Brows furrowing together into a plea when he rolls his free thumb over your plump clit. Toying. 

“Nuh uh- m’sorry, baby- m’sorry but-” Eyes blazing. “-s’all for me.” 

He’s so chin-deep into your cunt that every word comes out lewdly garbled, poking the upper half of his face over to suck on one of your sensitive pussy lips and bites. Choso’s dragging his face wherever you’d let him and it was hypnotic. “H-have the biggest fuckin’ c-crush on you, y’know?”

You didn’t know if he even realized what he was saying right now.

“Y-you do?” you’re tittering, core aching with the quick, dribbling gyrations of your hips down onto his face. But it wasn’t enough - it might never be enough and he was constantly leaving a light swat on your ass to make you use him. Faster. 

“Mhmm–” Choso nods and nods and nods and he’s plunging his hot and heavy tongue into your gummy walls. “-the biggest c-crush. I really wanna hngh! make you my- ngh- my lover…my wife.”

“Choso…” you hum, voice sending blood pumping to his beautifully flushed face all over again. And he finds it in himself to bite into your clit and suck. Shit. “-I am your lover.”

“R-really?” In awe.

You don’t know who’s cumming first - you or Choso. 

Because only with a few more syrupy slurps of his tongue on your throbbing cunt, you’re gushing all your juices down the lower half of his face. Forming an obscenely wet mask all down his dripping chin, his nose, all the way up to his cheekbones. 

And oh Choso loves it. 

Choso can’t get enough.

He can’t help but gulp and gulp down every one of your pearly splatters as he fucks you through your high. Over and over-.

That is, until-

“N-noo-” Choso’s whimpering, hands bruising where they’re immediately digging into your waist to halt you to a stop. And his bulging biceps flex in such a mouth-watering way when he’s easily plopping your entire body weight down onto his lap easily - onto his urgently twitching cock. Nudging apart your puffy pussy folds to slide just his fattened tip into the snug channel of your cunt before- “N-need to cum inside. Please- ngh! Need to.”

And Choso’s cumming just from tasting your pretty pussy. 

Shooting out thick waves of his seed, your clingy walls are gripping so tightly around his bolting cock that it makes him sob. It makes him attach his fingers bruisingly onto your waist as he ruts his hips up mindlessly. 

“C-can I taste it again, baby…” He’s gulping at the oozes of cum that overspills a glossy coat down his shaft in the perfect creampie. “-w-wanna see if it tastes sweeter now.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - “Both…”

“I should fuck ya stupid-” Sukuna utters, followed by a rough sinking of his teeth into your earlobe. And it takes everything in him to keep out the tiny cracking of his rumbling baritone, to try and not fucking stutter like some weakling. “-th-then maybe ya wouldn’t be able to hah- talk outta that slutty pussy, brat.”

You’re huffing in indignation, biting your own set of teeth into the tattooed skin of the king’s shoulder. Barely even a kitten nip to him. “I-I’m serious, Kuna- I wanna take b-”

SLAM!

His curled first comes down hard onto the decadent armrest on his royal throne. Anything - everything - that’s keeping his composure right now. 

Sukuna spits out a heated, “Don’t you dare s-say it-”

You roll your eyes, jostling your hips a little too sensually when you lean up to his toweringly inhuman figure. All the way up to whisper smugly in his ear, “-both.”

It’s silence, at first.

And you’re not even sure that Sukuna heard you at first - that special word just about on the tip of your tongue once more - before, wordlessly, he picking you up with two of his big, beefy arms. Fully. Remaining two curling around the thick hilts of his matchingly hard cocks to guide them all the way to your tearful slit. 

“Well then…” Sukuna’s dark snicker snaps you out of your reverent awe, because his fat, rotund tips were so swollen. The sheer circumference staggering that you had no idea how they were going to fit. “-better take it all then, woman.”

It feels like you’re being split-apart, Sukuna’s barely even bullying his twin heads to spearhead open your sopping cunt and you swear you already feel him poking around at your womb. He’s so ruthless. Not hesitating for even a second before pumping your walls stock full of his thickened inches. Over and over-

“Well?” he’s manspreading his muscular thighs in a way that makes you bounce precariously. All four arms crossing while he bears you with a sleazy grin you know doesn’t bode well. “Was heh- whinin’ and crying until you got it. Take it, then.”

Oh, he was so mean.

But you weren’t one to back down so easily, either. 

“F-fine-” you huff, hands steadying on his flexing shoulders when you’re gyrating your hips downwards. Gulping up his long, hefty inches that rub against all your sweet spots without even trying. “Shit- y-you’re in so deep, Kuna-”

And this makes Sukuna stiffen, it makes his massive cocks swell even girthier with a sudden rush of blood likely all the way from his brain. Leaving him throughly pussydrunken but in denial. Smack! You feel his sharp nails sting against your ass. “D-don’t think those ngh- filthy words of yours are gonna work this time, lil’ human.”

“M’jus’ saying-” you whine. Splaying a hand down to the nudging divot forming at your stomach, and you’re pressing down hard to thumb over the ruthless curve of his rummaging tips. “-can already feel you right h-here n’ you’re not even halfway- mmpf-”

Sukuna has to make you shut up.

He needs to.

And his first way of going about it is to cover your mouth with one of his monstrous hands, manifesting that second mouth of his from his stomach to smear across his palm. Into a wet, sinful French kiss. 

And his second? Well…

“God- y-you don’t even know what you-” he shudders out, two hands possessively forming a vice-like grip onto your waist. Body wracking with heaves when your clingy walls mesh and mold around his rock-hard cocks. “-what you do to me.”

You squeal - or, at least, you think you do. It’s muffled into your filthy, filthy kiss with Sukuna’s other mouth when he’s slamming your hips down riotously into his.

There’s no warning. No start signal - nothing before all of a sudden the king of curses is bucking your hips down, down, down into his over and over. Like some toy. The stretch is so dizzying that you can feel your maw slack open, drool trailing its delirious pathway down the side of your lips - with his excess mouth happily slurping it all up.

You honestly feel like you’re being ruined. 

Pulled to and fro anywhere and everywhere.

“Heh, too much?” Sukuna has the audacity to giggle - giggle. Low and husky in a hot pant against your ear. 

Yet, of course, the king never apologizes - well, to anyone except you. But for now he’s only stringing his hand away from your mouth, snapping away delicate ropes of saliva from the both of you. Instead, replacing it with another hand attached right onto your plump clit - and with it, his second mouth.

“Oh- shit shit shit-” you jolt. The dual- no, triple stimulation of his cocks kissing swooping glides of precum down your spongy cervix all the way to your g-spot and his mouth sucking on your sensitive nub was too much. Toying with you. “I-I didn’t know you could- ngh- could do- that-”

And Sukuna laughs, only grinding his palm up in a sopping wet smear against your stuffed pussymound to lap up each splatter of your sweet, sweet juices. Dredged out every time his hefty, cum-filled balls slam into your cunt.

“Special treatment fer taking ngh- both of me.” he’s grunting. The third of his beefy arms smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, overgrown digits so large that he’s squeezing into your airway. “Does the queen h-have any more requests, hm?”

You can only shake your head no - anything more and you had a feeling that you just might not be making it out in one piece. That is, if you do this time. 

“Good.” And Sukuna only smiles. Three of his arms slithering their way around your trembly body - the fourth taking its sweet, sweet time to dive into your clit and bite. Lightly. You’re giving up practically every ounce of control to him. “Now, jus’ relax n’ let your husband take over.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Stronger.

“I-I can take it-”

“Toru…”

“Promise- ngh- promise I can take it, s-sweetheart. Heh, it’s you that has to be worried.”

You had absolutely zero idea how an impromptu sparring session with Gojo Satoru - the strongest, longtime rival and absolute pain in your ass - ended up like this. With you flat on your back and splayed out across his navy bedsheets in such a tight mating press, with him running on complete fumes and his revered cursed technique to drag out his- sixth orgasm of the night. 

But you weren’t complaining.

And neither was Gojo - in fact, mumbling out a slurring slew of profanities into your open mouth. Followed by the most broken “I’m w-winning this bet-”

“No-” you’re spitting hot-headedly with a merciless little bite on his pouty lower lip, and it’s so pretty the way his lips grow as rawly rosy as the rest of his blushing cheeks. Leveraging your years and years of practice to flip the two of you over, “I-I’m winning.”

Neither of you could even remember what the bet was about. 

Something about who’d admit defeat? Ah, Gojo doesn’t give a shit - not even your puffy pussy lips were sliding down his overstimulated cock. Sheathing him in a freshly drenched coating of your honeyed slick when you straddle his slender hips and ride.

“Heheh- y-you think this is- oh!” His hands wrangle around your waist urgently in such a bruising grip to slow down your sloppy cadence. And he’s using his powerful arms to completely drag your drooling cunt in languid, lazy bounces up and down up and down up and- bruising. “-this isn’t going to m-make me-”

But he already was.

Oh, he already was with every clingy kiss of your gummy walls around his steadily swelling cock, every syrupy slosh of cum that made his heavy balls clench. And it’s only a matter of time before his thoroughly overwhelmed cock bursts out once more. 

Gojo’s letting his head loll drunkenly against the sweat-dampened pillows - shit, everything was such a mess. From the creamy puddle of cum sobbing from your sopping wet slit, to the way your fatigued bodies were so furiously glissading across one another. 

“Make you what?” you bat your lashes down at him in a way that should be infuriating, but it only makes his reddish tip twitch into your g-spot. “Admit it- ngh- a-admit defeat, Toru–”

But that’s the last thing he would do. 

There’s a sudden crack! of jujutsu in the air, and you already know from who before your stupidly fucked mind even registers it. Because it only takes a split-second - a split-second - for Gojo to teleport from right underneath you being ridden out of his fucking mind to be shovelling all girthy inches of his cock into you from behind.

“Ah! What-” you yelp, precariously collapsing onto the silken pillowcases now. Whirling your greedy gaze over your shoulder, “Th-that’s cheating.”

And Gojo doesn’t even hear you - fuck, he doesn’t even feel alive. 

The only thing one his delirious mind right now being the way your dribbling cunt was swallowing him up so well. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, entire heavy bodyweight slumping on top of yours when he’s jackhammering inch after inch.Tiny, mindless gyrations just to fit deeper - as if your clingy walls had forgotten how massive he was already. So heavy - you could barely breathe.

And it’s only when he’d bottomed out, it’s only when Gojo could feel your saturated folds kiss his fat base, his weepy tip drawing a long line of translucent precum across your cervix that you hear a noise from above you. 

It’s hoarse - pained. You’re halfway concerned before you hear that rumbling groan turn into a bout of laughter. Humorless, so, so pussydrunken. 

Gojo’s eyes glow with miniscule bolts of lightning when he’s dragging your face to crane upwards into his oh-so-feral gaze. The toothy grin smeared across his handsome features made it seem like he was fucking you like he hated you. Whispering - low. “You win th-this round, my girl.”

You feel a sudden spike in cursed energy - and you’re sure every electrical source within the next twenty-five miles does, too. Before Gojo plants one foot on your head and angles his hips deeply to pummel your womb with thick, knocking spurts of cum.

Fuck, every sudden ribbon of seed had him pressing into you ever deeper. Rougher. And Gojo could feel your snug cunt drain his tight balls again. Again and again and again until his furious divot could only pump out a few wispy strings of creamy white.

“God…” Gojo breathes, so strained. He’s swiftly thwacking! a few fingertips against your plump clit - buzzing jujutsu hot on his digits. Swirling those excess dredges of cum to make such a filthy mess of your pretty cunt. “This fuckin’ p-pussy feels so hngh- good. S’fuckin’ unfair-”

“Unfair? You’re the one using-”

And, well, usually Gojo loved hearing you run that smart mouth of yours. But right now all he could do was run his slender fingers over to your sensitive nub over and over - before punishing you with a tiny squeeze. “Mhm- all’s fair in l-love and ngh- war.”

Shit, he can already feel the exact moment when you cum - your toes curling, kiss-bitten lips letting out such a sweet keen of his name when the tingling waves take over. 

“O-of course, you ah- quote that-” you’re babbling out, strangled moans choking out with every clash of his bawling head into your g-spot. He’s memorized it by now. Perfected it.

Probing so deep that you think Gojo’s ready to batter a fat, circular bruise at that spot. Especially when his powerful hands wrap in a vice-like restraint around both your arms; biceps flexing, slack lips grunting as he manhandles your entire body to lift cleanly off the mess you call sheets. 

The strongest - he’s such a show-off.

Snickering when you gasp at the change in angle middair, jostling his expansive cock inside you rummagingly. He’s sweetly coating your insides with a sweltering hot pool of cum - once. Twice. And then nothing. 

Shooting blanks. 

You flinch when you feel the splat! splat! splat! of something wet, slowly realizing that Gojo was crying pearly tears from his pussydrunkenly droopy eyes. Smearing it when he rubs his face into the crook of your neck with a purr, “B-best out of ten…?”

“...”

A/N. PHEWWW I got CARRIED AWAYY with this one oml it was saur fun.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Last one I swear...What If 141...had an American girlfriend and they argued or had to teach them about some cultural differences? Football/soccer...currency...bathroom/loo, etc.

You said last one but we know that's not true. Don't blame you though. Keep them coming.

I love this idea. It's so cute! Translation mixup, confusion about slang, cultural differences, etc. Even though the Brits speak English, it's nothing like American English in a lot of respects, which is why I find this prompt so fun!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings: brief swearing, brief mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 400

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Those are cookies, Kyle.”

“It’s a biscuit.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “A biscuit is savory. Cookies are sweet.”

“Your biscuit is a scone.”

“Oh my god,” you groan.

An old lady navigates around the two of you inside the grocery store. Her cart almost clips you.

Kyle glances down at the list in his hands. “What the fuck is an eggplant?”

“We need it for dinner on Tuesday.”

“But what is it?”

You point and Kyle follows. His arm drops to his side and he side-eyes you.

“That’s an aubergine.”

“That’s an aubergine,” you mimic as Kyle laughs.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The front of the pub is painted all black with intricate gold lettering. A nearby streetlamp casts the front window in a warm glow.

“Remember what I told you?” asks Simon.

You both stare at the pub, neither moving to the door just yet.

“Tell me again.”

Simon clears his throat. “If I’m buying a round, don’t offer money for your portion. Order at the bar but don’t linger. Know what you want. Respect closing time.”

He pauses and you see him turn in the reflection of the window.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it.”

“Let’s get bloody pissed then.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You’ve got this. Don’t stress.” Johnny grasps your shoulders and squeezes. “It’ll be fine.”

“What if I mess up. Make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t,” he affirms.

“Johnny.”

He sighs and then cups the sides of your face. “You don’t have to say anything but three things.” You breathe deep, and Johnny goes in for a quick kiss. “What are they?”

“Aye,” you say. “Which means yes.”

“Naw,” and this is you emphasize with a terrible accent that makes Johnny wince, “is no.”

“What else?”

“It’s okay to use ‘fuck’ casually in a sentence.”

“That’s my girl,” laughs Johnny.

John Price

“If you’re coming to the game, you’re calling it by its proper name,” says John, pointing at you.

“What?” you ask with pretend aloofness. “Soccer?”

“Football,” he growls with annoyance.

It irritates John when you call the sport by its American name. But you do it anyway just to tease him.

John holds up a jersey. “This is important to me.”

“I know.”

“It’s a game with the boys.”

You pat his shoulder. “I know, John.”

He sighs. “What is it called?”

You remain quite and John arches an eyebrow.

“Soccer,” you answer, grinning.

“You’re lucky you’re so damn cute.”

[wheneclipsefalls]

Little Gift - Latch

Neteyam photo by @cinetrix

Pairing: Dark Aged Up Neteyam x Human Fem Reader

Warnings: aged up characters, DUBCON/NONCON, kidnapping, MDNI EXPLICIT, yandered qualities, possessive behavior, slight degradation, interspecies intimacy, swearing, power imbalance, sub reader, dom Neteyam, manipulation, hair pulling, creampie, a lot more stuff but at this point you hopefully know whether or not you should read haha

Summary: Victory is finally his and Neteyam knows exactly how he wants to celebrate it.

A/N: A little unsure about my word choice but it's been fun writing from Neteyam perspective for the first time in this series. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist I Little Gift Masterlist

You belong here, perched on his lap with your head notched against his shoulder. So small and pretty that his legs barely register your body weight. He wraps a hand around your outer thigh to angel you further against him. This is perfect.

Everything is perfect. 

Pandora has rid of those Sky Demons and his prize, his little gift, is still here in his arms where you will always be. Those traitors are no longer here to tempt you with false promises of escape and a life outside of belonging to the Olo’eyktan. You may not realize it now but they would have broken you. It is only a miracle from Eywa that has allowed your beautiful spirit to stay in tack after all those years of inhabiting the same space as those treacherous creatures. 

The RDA may think that you are a gift given by them but in reality it is Eywa that has placed you on his lap.

You were created for him. Designed perfectly inside and out. 

His reward for all that he has had to endure. 

Now with you safely tucked in his arms and his People celebrating their freedom once more, he can rest. He is free to savor all that the Great Mother has offered him, although you prove to be difficult to rangle at times. That’s okay, he enjoys a good challenge. It makes your earned submission all that more satisfying. 

He’s not sure how long one human can cry for but it appears you are shooting for a record. Your tears have soaked the feathers of his Olo’eyktan attire but he doesn’t mind, not when you are snuggling into him for comfort. 

His plan of distraction worked wonders during take off but it was only a matter of time before your mind came back online and began worrying once more about the absence of people that never truly loved you. It’s to be expected however Neteyam is pleased to find that your response is not one of anger but sadness and seeking refuge. He couldn’t have asked for anything more ideal. 

He is your refuge, your one true home and the fact that you are learning that so quickly makes a sense of pride burst within him. 

The glittering gems of your new top compliment your own sparkling tears exquisitely. It had taken weeks for him to make but it was worth it. He would want nothing less for his pet on a night of such grand celebration. However, it becomes abundantly clear that he is not the only one who appreciates the outfit. 

It’s the fifth time Lo’ak has turned in the direction of the throne while dancing to check on you. Or at least, that is how his younger brother would be sure to phrase it but Neteyam is no fool. He can see the hunger in those eyes. Typical of his younger sibling to chase after what he can not have. What Neteyam himself possesses. 

Their eyes meet and it only takes a moment for Lo’ak to recover from being caught and roll his own back at his brother and turn to continue dancing. He’s not sure how much longer this game will go on where Lo’ak pretends to hold no interest. One way or another it will come out. Neteyam’s arm tightens around your waist, fingers running through your silky hair. 

It is then that he notices your little sobs have stopped and are now replaced with long deep breaths. It’s amazing that you are able to sleep through the banging drums and echoing calls but it seems that all of your crying has worn out your poor little body. Such a fragile thing you are. 

All the more reason to keep you close. And yet another reason he finds his mind swirling back to the idea of keeping you on a leash. Ideally he would carry you to and fro but there are times where he needs to have his hands available. With your habit to wander off he can’t risk having you fall and break your little neck. A leash would be the perfect solution.

Not to mention how good you would look trailing behind him, sweet little bow around your throat as a permanent reminder of his claim on you. 

His tewng [loincloth] is unbearably tight. It presses against your soft thighs but that’s not enough. For perhaps the hundredth time you shift in his lap, unable to sit comfortably on your red ass. You’ve given up on trying to convince him to let you stand but that doesn’t stop that supple little pout from gracing your lips every time you are reminded of the pain. Even in your sleep you try to wiggle and squirm from his lap. 

Of course there is another source of your constant squirming. A source that Neteyam finds his fingers dipping down to trace over as the base just barely peeks out of your tight pussy. 

This plug is much larger than the cute one you had stowed away in your old nightstand drawer. It had taken more than a fair amount of encouragement to slot that thick piece of plastic inside your cunt but the sight was magnificent. Complain all you want but the way your walls clench around it in desperation tells Neteyam more than he needs to know. 

It’s the largest size of his collection which means that tonight is the night. Tonight you will officially become his. Your pussy will soon forever have the imprint of his thick length inside of you, ruining you for any other man. Not that you would ever have the chance to be with another male outside of him again. Jared was the end of that line and the Olo’eyktan feels no hint of remorse for taking care of that pest.

Another flash of Lo’ak’s gaze.

Neteyam feels you stir when he lets out a deep sigh. However reluctant he is, it’s important to set his brother straight. Lo’ak has an overactive imagination after all and the last thing he would want is his little brother’s curiosity and desire becoming an interruption for the wondrous night the two of you are about to have. 

Those long lashes flutter open, throat caught on a sharp intake when he stands up and places you back onto the seat. Your dazed and confused look is one that Neteyam can’t help but coo at, the pad of his thumb running over your cheek. 

“Mawey, tiyawn [be calm, love]. I will be right back.” You’re already scrambling to your knees, finally keeping the weight off of your sore bum. “Be a good girl for me and stay put, yes?”

It’s a rhetorical question and one that he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before a kiss is placed on your hairline and the Olo’eyktan is parting the crowd. It’s obvious that there is a moment where you consider stopping him. You may be hell bent on never admitting it verbally but the other Na’vi put you on edge and being around him has become your one constant, a safety you can rely on. If not for his urgency Neteyam would take his time in teasing you on the matter. 

Your face always looks even more lovely with that deep shade of red, whether from anger or embarrassment or even both. 

Later, he reminds himself.  

The female rubbing up against Lo’ak looks more than put out by his lagged reciprocation. Her displeasure colors into slight shock when she spots her Olo’eyktan coming straight towards them. Lo’ak crosses his arms as his partner quickly signs the proper respect to their leader. Neteyam dismisses her easily. 

“Excuse me, sister. I require a moment with my brother.” Neteyam ushers Lo’ak away from the scene before giving her a chance to respond or offer to give them privacy. 

The fire’s light now just barely humming over their skin. The two brothers find a moment of solace on the outskirts of the celebration. Neteyam’s ears still buzz from the sensory overload it has taken for the past few hours. 

“If you’re going to ask me for another favor can it at least wait until tomorrow? There is a party, you know.” Lo’ak tall frame lazily leans against the nearest tree and he attempts to hide the way his eyes fly over Neteyam’s shoulder towards you by making a show of tying his hair back. 

“Funny considering how eager you were to grant me a favor earlier this morning.” Neteyam’s veiny arms cross over his chest, tail whipping back and forth in the cool wind. If Lo’ak is intimidated he doesn’t show it. 

“Aren’t I a wonderful brother?” Those sharp teeth shimmer as he makes a show of giving an over the top sarcastic grin.

“Lo’ak.” Neteyam growls. 

“Jesus, calm down.” Lo’ak groans, head thrown back against the bark. “She’s still your little toy.” 

“I am not stupid, baby brother. I see the way you look at her.” 

“Whatever.” Lo’ak bristles and makes his way to stomp off but he is caught by the upper bicep. 

“I don’t want there to be any…confusion.” Silence spreads between them, the only sound being that of Lo’ak’s harsh exhale. 

“I was only watching.” He finally says, voice dropping lower. 

“And you are free to.” Small steps bring him further into his brother’s space. “But let’s be clear about whose permission you need in order to touch.” 

“And I didn’t.” His arm is ripped from Neteyam’s grasp. “I’ve only ever babysat the little brat and done all that you’ve asked of me. If you are looking for problems to address I would start with her running off at every given opportunity. Take a look for yourself!” He flails an exasperated arm in your direction but Neteyam doesn’t even bother to turn. 

“I am aware.” There is no need to look in order to know that you have once again tried your hand at another escape. He can see it in his mind’s eye now, your small body carefully hoisting itself down from the high throne. Panicked eyes racing over the crowd in search of any Na’vi that could potentially halt your actions. All that before short legs race off into the darkness. “I’m giving her a head start.” 

It’s best not to let you go too far. Eywa knows you are very skilled at finding new ways to put yourself in danger, but a little chase is an exhilarating experience. 

“Oh yeah, you going to make me chase after her for you too?” Lo’ak spits out, urging Neteyam to roll his eyes at his brother’s antics. He resists however, that wouldn’t be very becoming of the Olo’eyktan. 

“I fear you would enjoy that far too much, brother.”

Instead of fiery words shot back the only line of defense Lo’ak puts up is a scoff and frowned expression, golden eyes simmering with words that he knows better than to voice. Neteyam can give his brother credit for that at least. He knows when he is stomping on dangerous territory. You, on the other hand, seem to be learning that lesson far too slow. It seems a cute tawtute like you are more of a hands on learner. 

“Can I be excused then, oh might Olo’eyktan?” He flourishes with a sarcastic bow. 

“Leave.” Neteyam bites out simply, forcing his eyes to remain trained on his younger brother as he joins the crowd again. It’s a safety precaution just in case Lo’ak gets a bad idea even after warnings. Much to the Na’vi girl’s dismay Lo’ak does not join her again on the dance floor and instead heads straight towards the fermented fruit. No doubt he will spoil himself into a drunken state. Unfortunately for him, Neteyam already has his hands full babysitting you tonight. 

He takes his time, however, greeting a few of the clan members and partaking in a small dose of alcohol himself. With your small legs it will take you forever to get a distance that makes this chase even remotely fun. However, once the drink is empty and he has done his dues as Olo’eyktan in the social event Neteyam can no longer keep himself at bay. There are other creatures of the night that could be waiting to catch a pretty prey like you.

Tracking you down is almost laughably easy with your sweet scent wafting through the air. A scent that only grows tenfold when he comes across a peculiar piece of plastic stashed in a bush. It’s the dildo that is meant to still be snuggled up in your little cunt. 

A sharp smirk cuts into his features. 

For such a smart little thing you really can be so negligent at times. With the dildo out your scent now goes from a dulled perfume to a thick fragrance that coats the air. He recognizes that aroma, he knows the way it tastes. Your arousal has only made you an easier target and now you have done nothing but take out the one piece keeping it plugged. Neteyam can envision so clearly that trail of slick that is sure to be marking your thighs. 

Such a messy little thing you are. Even after the way he cleaned you up so dutifully post launch, you have managed to turn into a wet temptation once more. 

The small footprints along the dirt are almost pointless in his pursuit now that he has your scent. They only serve as a confirmation that he is going the right way. It doesn’t take long before the sound of your sharp panting reaches his upturned ears. It’s then that the Olo’eyktan takes to the trees. He glides along the thick branches without a sound, gaining a bird’s eye view of your desperate running. 

The full on sprint you started off with has come down to a clumsy jog. Even with your small stride he’s sure you could make it a lot further if you would simply stop looking over your shoulder every other second. An action that has you stumbling and grabbing your foot to pick out a thorn from the underside. Little curses rise between your harsh breaths. 

And then your breathing is cut all together. 

The sounds of claws and wild yips echo through the greenery. By the sounds of it Neteyam knows it must be a small pack of aynantang [viperwolves]. They aren’t close, at least not yet. With your back turned and eyes blown out in silent terror he decides that now is as good a time as ever to interrupt. 

Neteyam lowers himself down slowly, muscular arms controlling his descent into a movement so smooth and silent that it is nothing more than a shadow. A shaky hand covers your lips, the little puff of your beating heart pushing your chest out even more. One long step forward and now he can watch your trembling from above, his toes almost touching your muddy heels. 

“Their bite is not as sharp as mine, pet.” 

You scream before the sound can be stopped, spinning so fast your heel that you land directly on your red bum instead. Even without glowing tanhi dotting your skin, those dilated eyes have a way of making you glow in the night. Even more so when they dazzle up at him with unleashed fear and vulnerability. 

You scramble backwards, clawing at the muddy ground until you are clumsily trying to crawl back onto your feet. Fine by him, it’s easier to close the height difference when you are back to standing. He grabs your right arms easily, pulling you back against him. The fight continues as you turn to bash your first against his abdomen, even clawing at his thighs but then another sound cuts you off again. 

They are closer this time.

“They hunt in packs.” Neteyam informs you. “Circle their prey until there is nowhere left to go.”

A rustle of bushes to the left has your squirming changing from running away to ducking behind Neteyam. He allows the action, sharp teeth peeking from his grin when he feels the way your soft fingers dig into his thighs. 

“My father was almost killed by a pack once. Even in his avatar form he depended on my mother’s mercy to fight the creatures off.” You shake like a leaf in the wind, your face pressed against his lower back when the sounds get louder. He almost feels bad for scaring you so much, tempted to bundle you in his arms and shush your worries away. However, that would ruin the lesson. You are the one that decided to run off carelessly into the woods without him and now you need to understand why you depend on Neteyam for everything. Why you owe him your submission and affection. 

“I wonder how you would fair.” A few more wolves prowl from the bushes, inching closer. They creep forward with a hesitance at the sight of Neteyam, driven only by curiosity as your scent continues to fill the air. 

“Teyam.” You whimper into his hip, now latching onto the strap of his loincloth to urge him backwards. 

“What’s wrong, pet? I thought you wanted to be set free?”

A vicious snarl rip from the right and you stumble to cling to his left side now. That startled little scream is just barely muffled by the way your face is pressed into his hip. 

He coos at your little pleas. “Has someone changed their mind, hm?” Any other time you would be barring your blunt teeth at him but he knows that in the height of your fear there is no resistance left for him. You’re too focused on the prowling beasts that flash their own teeth in eclipse’s glow. 

“Teyam please, let’s go!” Voice caught on sobs that threaten to rise, you can barely make the words out. 

Your fear is palpable, but not just to him.The aynantang [viperwolves] can sense it too. They circle and watch with more confidence as the seconds roll by. Periodically they flicker up to his looming form, as if checking to see whether or not he will be a threat against their newfound meal. It would be easy to scare them off, something Neteyam has done himself many times. He’s hunted these forests since he was a boy and his own scent is something that the creatures have learned to associate with danger. 

Standing here now, however, he keeps a neutral position and one that the pack hesitantly takes as an opportunity to cinch closer. A flash of his knife and that confidence would disintegrate until the pack would scurry off into another corner of the forest. 

Neteyam keeps it sheathed. 

“You’re the one that ran off, little gift.” He reminds you, voice calm and cool. 

“I know! I know! I’m sorry j-just please!” 

“Please what, tiyawn? You have to be more specific.” 

You struggle to respond properly, hands frantically switching from tugs at the straps to clawing up at his arms. Regardless, Neteyam remains unmoved, arms crossed over his chest as he observes the scene with indifference. “Please..please don’t let them-” You gasp rearing back when you spot another viperwolf emerging from the left. It’s been there for a while but it appears this is the first time your weak eyes have caught sight of it. “I’m sorry! I’ve changed my mind! Please, I’m sorry.” You cry out in a shrill voice, plastering yourself under his arm. 

“Changed your mind on what?” It’s tempting to look down and see the way you so desperately seek his comfort but Neteyam is wise enough to keep his golden gaze sharply pinned on the emerging creatures. 

“On wanting to leave! You can take me home just please-”

“Oh can I?” Your chin is snatched between two fingers, forcing you to crane your neck up towards him. That mask of indifference is gone, replaced only  by a fierce stirness you are terrified to be facing twice in one day. “And what makes you think that is up to you?”

It’s hard to look into your eyes directly when they are bouncing wildly in every which direction. Perhaps it is your pitiful way of tracking the oncoming predators, or maybe you simply can not handle facing his gaze filled with ire. Either way, it is adorable to watch your natural submissive nature emerge. And all from a few viperwolves. 

Poor thing, what would you do without him?

“I-I’m sorry.” You say, voice so small and timid that only a Na’vi would have hopes of hearing it. Neteyam’s chest rumbles with a deep purr, other hand finally coming up to run through your hair.

“I know you are, tiyawn. You just get confused sometimes, don’t you?” No response is given, instead just a gasp as another creature inches closer and you dash into his arms. This time he wraps one arm around your small frame while the other goes for his sheathed knife. The advance pauses, aynantang  [viperwolves] pacing from side to side instead. Your reaction is premature but Neteyam basks in it all the same.

From the heated breath and salty tears painting his lower stomach he begins to worry that your fragile body will soon give out and lose consciousness. Keeping you tucked under his arm is the best move, easily accessible for when he needs to scoop you up without retaliation. However at this point, it seems that you are willing to do whatever it takes to earn his protection.

What a short memory you truly have. Perhaps if you listened to him more diligently like a good pet should then you would already know that his protection has been yours since the first time he saw you. He would defend you to his very last breath. Whether or not you asked for it would be irrelevant. That being said, you’ve always had the sweetest way of begging so who is he to deny himself such a pretty chorus of promises. 

They flow now freely from your lips. Pleading, crying, and begging for him to get you out of harm's way. He simply shushes you, making no rush as a rigid arm tightens to pull you even closer. 

The creatures are scared off within the first few hisses that leave his lips. Knife dancing under the moonlight with a deadly promise, they yip away reluctantly. Still, there is an advantage to not letting you know how easy it truly is to scare them off so he tells you to look away, to keep snuggled against him where they can not so easily see your fear. 

You remain that way when you are lifted into his arms. Your thighs strain to wrap around his ribcage but you eventually manage to lock your ankles together. With your shaky limbs locked in terror you are barely in need of his supporting arm, but he wraps one under your rear anyways. You remind him of a small syaksyuk [Prolemuris] as you cling with fervor, lighting his amusement to new heights. 

The walk back is pleasant, even when your shaking doesn’t stop and your racing heart beat is louder than the stomp of his feet. There is still great peace to be found with you in his arms and the promise of a wonderful night in the air. After tonight you won’t dare to leave him, not now that you have developed a healthy sense of fear and even more so once your body has taken him fully the way it was meant to. 

He holds back a groan at the thought. Your smell is still just as potent as when you first ran and now it holds an extra tang of emotion that makes it all that much sweeter. He manages to pick up the tossed aside dildo on the way back, but that acts as fuel to the flames. 

He has sought after your true mating for months and now that he is on the cusp of finally making it a reality it is hard to keep a rational mind. The natural urge to pin you down and take what has always been his morphs into a feral urgency that infringes on his thoughts. Although, he is determined to take his time tonight because it is isn’t enough to simply fuck you into the ground or find pleasure in that first stretch. No, tonight is about claiming you in every way possible. 

About teaching not only your body but your mind that there is no one else it belongs to. No one else that can provide for you in the way he can. Utter and complete submission is his goal. But to get you there, that will take skillful maneuvering and coercion. Otherwise it would not be a quest worthy of his time or attention. 

However, there is still one more way he can lock you into his life. One permanent reminder that would forever keep you shackled to him. An action that would have your scent intertwined with his so much so that it wouldn’t matter if it took. Pregnant or not the message would be clear. The confines of his loincloth feel suffocating at the thought. Would your tiny pussy even be able to hold half of his seed? What a pretty treat it would be to see it spilling out from your perfectly pink and tight hole. 

Pace now quickened, nothing can take away his laser focus. Not even Lo’ak’s obvious staring as you are carried swiftly along the outer edges of the celebration. Nor Spider who tries to run across the crowd and apologize again. Neither make it to him because all that he can feel is the warmth of your softy body. The pulse of your heart. The essence that is entirely yours, filling his lungs. 

Once back in the safety of his kelku [home/house] you are smart enough to not flee from his lap. He manhandles one leg to be thrown to the other side so you are properly straddling him. A sense of shyness must fall over you because you are silent while nervously fiddling with the feathers of his traditional attire. Or maybe you are still too shaken up over the little viperwolf incident to do much else. 

Neteyam is unbothered by it, instead using it as an opportunity to let his hands explore. Not in a sexual way at first, just simple brushes that are sure to have you melting for him.

“Now you understand why you must stay by my side. Don’t you pet?” Voice as gentle as the hands that run up the back of your neck, he can feel goosebumps rise in its wake. Eyes still fixated on the feathers, you nod shakily. If it wasn’t so cute he would be tempted to reprimand you for such a half hearted response but it appears luck is in your favor. 

His knuckles paint a trail up the back of your neck before swiping over your left shoulder. His other hand softly gathers your hair to the other side so your skin is bared for him. He thumbs at the side of your throat, feeling your pulse flicker beneath his fingers. 

“Such a pretty thing like you is not safe out there.” His hands bracket either side of your face, large enough to span the entirety of your head and tilt it upwards. It gives him the perfect view of your expression when both hands smooth up towards your hairline before parting and dragging along your scalp. Lips parted and eyes fluttered closed, he knows he has pressed the right button. 

“Creatures eager to snatch you up.” Neteyam draws out, nails ever so gently scratching along your roots. The shiver that races through your body is powerful enough to be visual. Massaging at the area in long strokes proves to have you breaking into pieces. Body practically limp against him, the Olo’eyktan watches with glee. 

No wonder Sky People are too soft for this world, all it takes to disarm you is some well placed pets. 

“And they’d be successful too,” The tips of his fingers come together to circle your hair into a ponytail. A small sound exhales from your lips, leaning into his touch without resolve. “Have you between their teeth before you could even scream.” That dark tone washes over you in a way so contrary to the warning message, his lips mere centimeters away from your own. 

One little kiss, more of a peck really. That is all you get. Just enough to have you chasing after him, a motion that is hard to do when he has you anchored by the root of your hair. 

“And that,” Another soft peck to your cheek, “is why you are so lucky to have me.” Neteyam allows his lips to linger longer this time but it’s still just as soft, almost more of a whisper than anything else and with the way you are trapped, there is nothing for you to do but take it. The noise that catches in your throat proves it is far from the passionate affection you desire. 

“Isn’t that right?”

“Yes Teyam.” You puff, the softest whisper as you try to learn forward for more. He tutts in disapproval, a slow but firm yank to your hair following. “Y-yes Olo’eyktan.” You correct yourself with a squeak and much to his delight, the fragrance from between your thighs intensifies. He’s tempted to look now and see if it has left a spot on his loincloth. 

“There’s my good girl.” He grins and finally you are rewarded with his lips capturing yours. Although slow and tender in movement the heat of the kiss is all consuming, spreading a message that can only reflect his complete control over you. Several times you try to squirm or wiggle but the hand embedded in your hair shackles you into place. 

Unlike most times you become a fidgeting little thing, it’s clear that your efforts are to get closer, not further away. Neteyam is a nice man after all and so he indulges that desire. At least to a degree. He kisses you until you’re gasping for breath. He kisses you until slick is seeping through your mini loincloth. And he kisses you until those soft little lips are ruby red and chapped from the harsh treatment. 

It doesn’t matter to you, that much is clear by the way you whimper once he pulls away. 

“Don’t be greedy.” He smirks against your cheek.

Your greed only intensifies when he slips one hand down to untie your loincloth. His other hand remains embedded in your hair as a leash, one that proves necessary as you are eager to rut up against him. Perhaps he would feel guilty for the way you blush in shame after another tug to your hair. That is, if your reactions weren’t so delightfully endearing. 

For reasons mysterious to him, humans have a habit of going against their natural needs. You are not exempt from this issue as you are constantly trying to deny your desire for him, even deny yourself the pleasure you so clearly require. It’s fortunate that you have him to override those silly concerns. And override them he does, quite easily since your body reacts like a live wire every time he is near. The smallest of touches have you aching for more.

Eywa has blessed him with such a responsive little pet and he has every intention of exploiting that sensitivity until you are screeching for him to stop. 

Small hands come to dig into his feathered mantle as he idly explores the curves of your stomach. He traces up until reaching the sparkling gems of your top. With two little flicks your hardened nipples are bared for him. 

It’s a rare experience to have you so cooperative as he bites and sucks at those little peaks. The emotions of that day have softened your resolve, a pattern that Neteyam makes a mental note of. 

He tunes into every sensation of satin skin beneath his fingertips. Atop his thighs. Prickling beneath his lips. Like a flower you blossom for him so exquisitely. Revealing petals that are just for him. Melodic whimpers that only he has the pleasure of inducing. The irritation of Lo’ak’s infatuation fades to the background with you so pliant in his arms. 

You are quickly driven to madness, or at least is how you plead when he continues to trace, worship and tease your small body. Neteyam is anxious too. His hard member presses painfully against the fabric of his tewng. However, being the first born son has taught him something that you very rarely exhibit: patience. The fruits of your labors are tenfold more exhilarating once following a period of yearning. 

And you yearn for him, little gift. So much so that your dramatic begging has him holding back a deep chuckle. 

A river of nectar flowing down your thighs, you act as if you will pitter into dust if not satisfied. 

It will be fun training you. Making you learn to sit patiently like a good pet when that inferno of fire burns deep within you. He can devise a plethora of creative punishments for when you inevitably step out of line. Neteyam looks forward to the long process. He wouldn’t want to succeed too quickly and cut the fun short.

Luckily your spit fire attitude is sure to draw it out, keeping him entertained and challenged for a long time. 

The reasoning is only further confirmed when he catches you sneaking a tiny hand between your legs. The grip in your hair finally releases only for him to sharply smack away your attempt. 

“Did I say you could do that?” 

You’re exasperated, pleading eyes staring up at him as a drawn out groan comes from your lips. 

“Well are you planning to tease me all night or actually do something?” 

You’re pinned onto your back in a heartbeat, this time his right hand curled around your throat instead of your hair. It may not be firm enough to cut off your airway but the oxygen in your lungs freezes all the same. 

“Oeyӓ tiyawn I have greater plans for my pussy than using your pathetic little fingers.” He growls into your ear, watching as you are too frozen in shock to bother struggling. “Because by the end of tonight it will be filled with my seed.” 

Your throat bobs with a thick gulp, stuttered words struggling to come forth but a tad more pressure against your pulse earns your silence. And to his fascination, your eyes roll back into your head. Fight it all you want, but it’s clear you have always thrived off of his domination. This power imbalance is one that you need. Satisfying that deeply locked away drive you have to be loved, pampered, controlled, and absolutely ruined.

Just in the way only he can deliver. 

Squeeze any tighter and his fingers might just lose circulation. Regardless, the dildos have done their job effectively and now you are more than ready to take him. It was always going to be a tight fit, but at least there is little risk of real injury due to his preparations. 

You appear less convinced on that matter when his unoccupied hand roughly tugs off his tewng. Wide eyes stare down to where his full length lays along your stomach. He has to admit that in a position like this the size difference does become ever more staggering but he has every faith in you. 

“Neteyam please,” You whimper, shiny eyes staring up at him for mercy.

“Please what?” He hums. His fingers curl to massage that special spot inside while his thumb playfully runs over your clit. It has the desired effect, watching as your begging turns towards a different goal.

“Please let me cum! Need it! Neteyam please!”

Neteyam shushes you tenderly, relieving some of the pressure from you little button when he feels your cunt clench around him on the verge of an orgasm. You’ve never looked more beautiful than now, naked and spread across the little nest of blankets and pillows he arranged just for you. Long hair splayed out in every which direction and eyes already coated in a haze, it appears as if you have already been fucked dumb beneath him. 

“Patience, little gift. You will cum on my cock soon enough.” 

Your alarm flares up once more. 

“No Neteyam I can’t! It’s too big, it’s impossible-”

A large thumb presses over your lips to silence you. At this rate you are going to work yourself into hysterics and that would unravel all of the hard work he has done to get you here. A few more intentional circles on your clit has those protests flying out the door. It’s clear you require his help to stay calm and compliant the way you are meant to. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t mind aiding.

Your chest rises and falls dramatically as you melt under the pleasure. And when his three fingers are replaced with the head of his cock lining up, you hardly even notice. As long as that little bundle of nerves is being stimulated, you are hyper focused on seeing out that ecstasy to a finish. 

A soft kiss dampens your screech when he slots in just the tip. Already his mind swirls from the sensation but Neteyam manages to reign in his focus. Little ‘no’ s and pleas fall from your lips to caress his. 

“Mawey, oeyӓ tiyawn [be calm, my love]. You are being so good for me.” Another inch and it feels as if his own knees are about to crumble from how tightly you cinch around him. Small hands fists into the fabric below as your eyes squeeze shut. Neteyam shakily grasps one with his right hand, placing it along his shoulder that is now exposed with the feathered attire out of the way. “You can touch, little pet. Good girls deserve rewards.” 

With your face just barely reaching chest level the Olo’eyktan is forced to bend into an awkward position every time he goes to kiss away your tears, but it’s worth it. Those blunt little nails dig into his lower back. It’s a shame they aren’t strong enough to leave marks that he can cherish.

The air from his lungs are pushed out in a rush as he plunges ever so slightly deeper inside your sweet little pussy. You tense and cry beneath him, scratching as his back in haste. Although mere seconds away from popping his load far too early he still manages to reach down and play with your poor little cunt until more of that sweet essence is trailing out. 

“You need to relax for me, pet.” Neteyam grits, tail curling erratically. “Going to suffocate my cock like this, little one.” And it’s true because in all of his years of sexual maturity not once has he ever felt a pussy so tight, so responsive, wrapped around him. It drives him to the point of insanity. It takes every last bit of resolve he has left to not shove the rest of himself inside and plow you into the floor. 

But Neteyam knows better than to break his toys. 

The next few minutes test his mental and physical stamina over and over as you slowly take him inch by inch. Every slow push of his hips causes a domino effect of tears and incoherent cries from your sweet lips. He kisses and soothes and pleasures your trembling body until you’ve learned to relax again. Only to then restart the cycle when you take one inch more. 

However, nothing prepares him for the end result. No amount of dreaming or training could ever have done the sight justice as he sees the  way your soft belly bulges when he reaches the hilt. The shape of him is clearly visible, twitching so deep inside of you that it threatens to drive both of you into sensation overload. 

The groan that rumbles from his throat is one that you have never heard before. So rough and unleashed that your glittering eyes dilate in response. It’s still painful, that much he can see from the look on your face. So despite every instinct in him screaming to ruin your little pussy until it can take no more, Neteyam remains in place. 

Your swollen nub is red from his sensual play, nipples not far behind as he laps and kisses them like they are the last meal he will ever have. That beautiful blush now heats down your neck and torso, as if tempting him to continual his oral fixation. It accentuates most importantly that bulge of your stomach until he can’t help himself anymore, large hand spanning over your tummy to press on that area lightly. 

“Can you feel me, tiyawn? Right here?” He presses again, your mouth opening in a silent scream. “Taking me so deep, pet. My good girl.” 

 And it’s then that it feels as if something has clicked. Your bodies becomes attuned to one another. Burning stretch morphs into something otherworldly, those soft features finally unscrewing into fluttering bliss. And he draws out ever so slightly to rut back in, your head falls back against the pillows. 

He’s waited long enough. Pinned long enough. Crawled after you long enough. Now all that his body can do is take what you so freely give him. His hips snap forward without restrain, spurred on by the little sounds that pulse in the back of your throat. Little fingers scatter between gripping his muscular back and tangling into his braids. 

The heat that travels from his ears to toes is so intense that it feels as if he may burst into an inferno. And he truly might, little gift. With the way you hug his cock so snuggly as if you never want to let it go, you may simply kill him. He would be happy to go that way. To leave this world drowning in the bliss of your destined union. 

And for once in his life, Neteyam lets himself fully go. He chases that peak with fervent desperation. He drinks in every reaction you have to give him. And when the pleasure becomes all too much for you to take. When you grapple to crawl away from him and the mind shattering climax that is around the corner, he pulls you back down with a hiss. 

“No more running, pet.” He commands, a growl emanating so deeply from his chest that he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. He hoists your left leg around his waist, effectively changing the angle to thrust in deeper. 

“Neteyam!” A screech like sweet honey from your lips as you finally tip over the edge. Body trembling so hard it takes that firm grip on your leg to keep it there, you crumble beneath him. His stamina is far from being drained as he rides you through it. Every wave of pleasure is stronger than a drug, leading him to cloud nine until he no longer wants to be anywhere else. 

“T-too much.” You gasp for air but your body is already succumbing to the onslaught. He can feel the way you are ramping up again. This is far from being over. 

“Give in.” Neteyam coos but the ring of that command is clear. There is no other option. That is the way it has always been because from the very beginning you have always been his. And sooner or later Eywa knew that the two of you would be here together, trapped in his love where you belong. 

“Oh God!” You cry out, body sliding up the floor with every thrust. 

Whether you find his queue by accident or on purpose is unclear but that first tug is enough to have his balls drawing up against his body, bracing to fly into bliss. There is a sticky mess between the two of you, slick enough to have those wet sounds filling the night air. Neteyam runs the flat of his nose over your sweaty temple and curve of your cheek. 

“My little gift.” He purrs, body on the brink of rupturing. He says it more for himself than you but is more than pleased to watch the way your eyes flutter close as the sound. Trembling, squeezing, and shattering around him, those are the moments your reserve of denial dries up.

That’s how it has always been. From the first night that he brought you home, tucked under his arm, you’ve had this other side that can be taunted out. Even that night as you had pleaded to be released only to have the gag put back in, his tongue had driven you to stillness. Your screaming of kidnapping had sizzled into a series of moans and ecstatic exclamations. 

There’s another side to him too.

The part of him that can finally bask in the one thing he has wanted for months. The part of him that yearns for reprieve day in and day out. The part that demands for rest- for freedom. 

Now he can finally surrender himself to the magic that the two of you create. To the sparkle that runs down your cheeks. To the sensation of being embraced so tightly by your little pussy. To the way his name has never sounded better from anyone else’s lips. Eywa has finally given him this gift, his sanctuary from every other pressure bestowed upon him. 

And now nothing is going to take it away from him.

Nothing will ever take you away.

Those are the thoughts that coerce his primal nature forward. The same that ramp the fire of his tongue demanding more from you. Pushing you further, harder, deeper. 

“You won’t let any spill out, will you pet?” He spits between grunts. 

“I-I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” More of a chant on loop than anything else. One day you will beg properly. You will cry for his seed, for his babies. You won’t question whether or not pregnancy is possible as he fills your womb with his mark. 

You will wear that little bow on your neck with pride.

Neteyam forces his eyes open at the precipice. Even as his body convulses and cock pulses rampantly while painting your insides white, he won’t allow himself to miss a single moment. That imprint of your expression as he finally claims you past the point of return will stay with him. The drawn in gasp that is sucked in from your red lips when you feel that warmth will be what keeps him going on day after day. Major to minor details of tonight will be his soundtrack to perfection as he pushes himself to be the best Olo’eyktan possible. 

And when the day has worn him to the bone and those day dreams are not enough, there you will be. Waiting for him oh so sweetly. 

“I want to sleep.”

Your muffled whine coaxes a chuckle from the Olo’eyktan.

“Then sleep.” He responds, only looking up from your spread legs for a second. So peaceful and sweet you are now, almost drowned in the hammock’s blankets and pillows. The picture of innocence and beauty only to then trail his eyes lower and find the evidence of his primal claim. His bioluminescent seed paints your weeping folds and inner thighs. A new spurt erupts from your still clenching hole only for him to push it back inside with his thumb again. 

It won’t make much of a difference. There is no way your small body could ever truly hold all of it but that doesn’t stop him from teasing you all the same. 

“Looks like this little pussy will need training to savor my seed properly after all.” 

Eyes still closed you let out a groan, trying to rip your thighs from his fingers. You remain trapped as exhaustion finally overcomes you, only a small incoherent curse from your tongue before passing out. 

Neteyam grins, reaching up to straighten the little pink bow around your throat. 

Please don't be shy. Hearing your thoughts and reactions is what helps fuel my drive to keep posting. Love you, pookies<3

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[borathae]

Scents | JJK x f.Reader

“Life as Jungkook’s mate is everything you ever dreamed of. He is there for you, he keeps you safe, fulfills all your wishes and fucks you to complete satisfaction. Life as your mate is, well, it’s how Jungkook always imagined having a home feels like. Because his life as his father’s son isn’t easy, but with you by his side, it finally doesn’t hurt anymore. When one night, Jungkook comes home feeling like shit because of his father, you decide to show him that he can always count on you to be his comfort and his distraction.”

Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x f. omega!Reader

Genre: Werewolf!AU, True Mates!AU, Married Life!AU, Angst, Hurt & Comfort, Fluff, Smut

Warnings: lots of plot <3, Kook is such a layered character omfg, his father is abusive fr, we hate him, she is there for him, scenting for comfort, he cries in front of her for the first time, this is just so :(, which means that the smut is gonna hit so hard, scene switch to morning, morning cuddles & slow kisses, he loves her i just want to say it again that he really loves her, he really does, the next ones are for the smut: needy Dom!Jungkook, service sub!Reader, she wants to make Him feel good for a change, adoration of his scent spots, which he never had done before so he is a goner, neck kisses, nipple licking & play, thigh kisses, biting, he has a big dick, oral sex (m.receiving), deep throating, rough face fucking, in my universe omegas can switch off their gag reflex, stimulation of his knot, she licks his balls too, lots of drool, and lots of slick, they do it on the window bench first where she kneels, then he carries her to bed and fucks her face while he stands, dirty talk & praise, pussy fingering & clit play while he face fucks her, choking (f.receiving), cum swallowing, rough hair pulling, multiple orgasms for both, very rough penetrative sex on the window sill from behind, exhibitionism kink cause yk window, squirting, subby girl tears, belly bulging, major breeding kink, creampies, they call each other "my omega" & "my Alpha", the softest & most loving aftercare, i want him so bad, also! he is a lot taller & stronger than her

Wordcount: 13.5k

a/n: you wanted more of alpha!koo, unaware that i was already working on a third installation because i want more of him too. i don’t think you even understand What he means to me like this story means so much to me and I’m so happy that so many of you love him as well <3 tbfh? there will definitely be more of him in the future but for now let us enjoy giving him the sloppiest head ever 💛 ps: i really need him to be my Alpha like-

You know from the sound of his bike that he was home. You drop the paint roller, which you were using before, to greet him by the door. You are currently redoing the living room so that it would feel homey. Jungkook told you that you can do whatever you want, as long as it makes you happy. It makes you really happy and you are practically skipping to the door to tell him all about your awesome day. 

You reached a point in your marriage where you get excited at the aspect of exchanging stories of your days with each other. Having Jungkook come home and listening to him tell you about his day is so exciting to you. In return, you can’t wait to share your day with him. Whatever this might mean in your development of feelings for him, seems positive to you. You definitely don’t want it to stop. 

You enter the hallway in sync with Jungkook. 

“There you are, I have so much to show-”

Bang! 

Jungkook coincidentally slams the door closed at the same time with you beginning your story. You stop abruptly, covering your ears instinctively. Loud noises scare you. They always have. Maybe it has something to do with your omega gen, but when something is loud, it means danger to you. 

Jungkook is huffing his air at first, but takes a moment of shocked gathering where he realises that he wasn’t alone. He lifts his eyes, studying you in a mixture of guilt and shock. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks you. 

“I don’t know”, you speak quietly, body smaller to keep yourself protected, “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” he is talking harsher than he normally does.

“Just so.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” He throws the keys on the dresser and shrugs off his leather jacket. He slips off his boots and discards them on the rack. 

“Did something bad happen?” you ask him while your body is still trying to regulate itself from the loud noise. You feel shaken and jittery, despite being aware that you aren’t in actual danger. 

“When does anything good ever happen to me?”

Your heart stings in a funny way. Does this mean that this bond is terrible to him?

“Oh, uhm.”

He studies you, visibly regretting his poor choice of words.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just. Fuck, I just need to be alone, I can’t do this right now”, he says and stomps past you to the cellar door.

He has a home gym down there. In which he very obviously disappears right now. He slams the cellar door closed and moments later, you can hear the downstairs speakers blast heavy metal music.

You feel helpless and clueless. In the end, you sit in the living room, unable to do anything because you are frozen. You wonder if it is something you did. Maybe he actually hates the home renovations and he finally had enough. Maybe you are being too clingy. Maybe you aren’t being clingy enough. Or maybe it has nothing to do with you. Whatever it might be, you can’t figure it out and so you are frozen.

You continue to sit frozen and helpless until Jungkook returns from the cellar an hour later. You know when he finally leaves because the music turns off and he stomps upstairs.

You are on your feet instantly, following him hastily as he hurries to the front door.

“Where are you going? Talk to me, what happened?”

“Leave me alone, you’re only making it worse.”

He is going to leave. You can’t let him do that. Not when you are so confused. 

“I’m worried. Is it something really bad?” 

You are outside. All he has to do is take these five steps and then he has the house – and you – behind him.

“Jungkook”, you round him on the steps, forcing him to stop.

He snarls in distaste, sending you a poisonous look. You don’t feel scared in his presence however, placing your hands on his upper arms. They are hot to the touch and his muscles are hard. As if his entire body is constantly tensing in anger. 

“Talk to me. What happened?” you stress, rubbing his flexed muscles in hopes of calming him down. 

“Well, what do you think happened? My dad happened”, he spits.

“Fuck, so I was right. What did he do?”

Two hours prior

Jungkook drags his heavy legs to the foot of his father’s throne. It would be really awesome if the throne was only a metaphor, but it wasn’t. His father quite literally sits on a throne, head held high and eyes lowered in judgement about his son’s state. Alphas normally don’t own thrones.

“It’s done, father”, the words come with difficulty for Jungkook. His ribs still ache from having them punched repeatedly. “The last of Urquard’s pack is gone. I did it. Ah, fuck.”

Exhaustion and a still healing leg drag Jungkook to his knees. He falls hard, pillowing his descend with his hands. Some of the omegas present instantly rush to help him, touching him on spots of his body to check for more wounds. Jungkook is heaving and panting, staring at the floor as he waits for the pain to pass. He should be used to it by now. He stopped counting how many times his father sent him past the walls to eradicate his enemies. They were never Jungkook’s enemies. If he was the Alpha, there wouldn’t even be any to begin with.

Jungkook should be used to the pain by now, but he isn’t. Just as he isn’t used to his father’s stone heart.

“Get up, boy. An Alpha doesn’t show weakness.”

His father never asked him if he was alright. He never did. Jungkook bites back his emotions, standing back up with the help of the omegas. He wipes the blood from his mouth, forcing his head to stop pounding.

“Forgive me, father. I guess being bit in the leg twice and then having your side scratched open does that to someone.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Be glad that your mother only bore you, otherwise I would have replaced you as my heir ages ago. Ungrateful brat.” 

“Are we done here? I’m exhausted.” 

“We are done once I tell you that we are done. And you fucking omegas stop touching my son!” 

The omegas flinch back, scurrying away from Jungkook as quickly as possible. He studies them with a tight face, shifting his eyes to his father afterwards. 

“I’d prefer it if you stopped talking to the pack like that.”

His father scowls, gripping the arm rests of the throne tightly, “what was that?”

“You heard me. You wanna be their Alpha? Treat them with respect. Please.”

“I am their Alpha!” His father yells. 

Jungkook should be used to it by now, but it doesn’t get easier. That’s his fucking dad and he is yelling at him. Why does shit like this hurt even after the millionth time?

“Why are you yelling at me? I was only making a suggestion.”

“Because you don’t get to suggest anything! You get to listen and behave!”

“You know. It hurts me when you yell at me. I wanna talk with you like normal people. Why can’t we? Just once, please dad.”

“Oh so now I’m the bad guy? Look at yourself first! If you didn’t turn out to be such a disappointment, I wouldn’t have to yell!” 

“I’m a disappointment?” Jungkook gasps, touching his aching chest. “I just killed ten wolves for you, dad. I do everything you ask of me. I take the pain no matter how much it hurts and I’m a disappointment?” 

“And yet you ended up bonding with an omega. If your mother was still alive, she would hate the view of you.”

“If mom was still alive she would tell you that you’re a major jerk!” Jungkook finally yells, spilling tears he doesn’t want his father to see. “And she would be happy for me! Mama always wanted to see me happy, she wouldn’t hate me!” 

His father jumps up and closes the distance to strike Jungkook across his face. Jungkook stumbles back, feeling disoriented for a few moments. It hurts, but not as much as it once did. His father is getting old and weaker.

“Don’t hit me. Why did you do that, dad?”

His father grabs his collar, lifting his hand in warning.

“You rather I use my claws?” he threatens.

“Go on. Do it”, Jungkook challenges through his angry tears. “It’s nothing I haven’t felt tonight. It’s nothing I keep feeling whenever I leave these walls to kill in your name. My hands are trenched in the blood of innocents while you sit on your throne, clean. You really think that your claws could damage me?”

His father scowls, flashing his eyes golden. Jungkook challenges him, eyes burning so much brighter. The truth has been out there for months. It is the reason why his father clings to his throne so obsessively, why he sends Jungkook on such deadly missions. He is losing his spot as the true Alpha. Dynamics in the pack are changing.

“I’m keeping the pack safe, father. Remember that. I’m the one who looks out for everyone. Like an Alpha should”, Jungkook challenges. 

His father growls, pushing him away to stumble back to his throne paranoid and blind in rage. 

“Go. I can’t look at you.”

The victory of tonight is Jungkook’s, but it leaves him empty. He doesn’t want to win, he wants a normal interaction with his dad that doesn’t leave him feeling drained and like shit. Fucking hell, he just wants a normal family. 

“Good night, father.”

Jungkook turns and leaves the throne room, holding his head high despite feeling as low as the fucking floor.

The now

“Urgh! I just”, Jungkook lets out and turns to slam his fist into the stone pillar. It crumbles at some parts under his strength and when he pulls back, bloody imprints of his knuckles are on the white stone.

“Jungkook, oh my god, you hurt yourself”, you gasp, trying to reach for his fist but before you can, he punches the pillar again.  

More crumbling and bloody prints.

“Stop it, you’re already bleeding.”

“If I don’t punch this fucking pillar, I’ll do something I’d regret. I’m so angry”, he growls and does it again.

“Stop it! This isn’t you!” 

“But it is”, Jungkook barks, whipping around to look into your eyes as he spits his words. “You’ve just never seen me like this. You’ve never seen me fucking angry.”

“No. No, you aren’t like this.”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me who I am. You have no idea who I am! How could you? If your deadbeat brother didn’t fuck up and I had to mark you, you never would have had to bond with me. You’re not in love with me, of course you don’t know me!”

You bite back tears.

“Don’t say that”, you get out quietly.

“I mean it. And, here is a little fact for you. This is me. I’m impulsive, I do stupid shit and explode in anger. This is me. So go ahead, push me away, call me a fucking dick. That’s just who I am.”

Your heart feels heavy, forcing you to whimper like a hurt puppy. Jungkook falters, taking a small step back.

“Leave me alone”, he says because he feels that pushing you away is all that he can do right now. 

You however don��t feel strong enough to leave. Behind all this anger and aggression, behind every brick he breaks, you can smell the hurt and insecurity he is currently feeling. He might hide it behind violence, but you are his true mate and an omega. All you can smell is that he feels like an anxious pup pushed into a corner, desperate for care and a helping hand.

“I said leave”, he stresses.

“No.” 

“Yes.”

You shake your head and step closer.

“Go! Before I use it.”

He is talking about his Alpha voice. It is a voice which will force any beta or omega into instant subordination and agreement. Any good natured, kind Alpha rarely uses this voice because of how much it feels like an abuse of power. Other, less kind, Alphas find joy in making their pack obey this way. Urquard was one of those Alphas. You know Jungkook, you know the kind heart and gentle soul he hides behind  his tough exterior. He would never use his Alpha voice. Especially not on you. 

This is just a desperate, empty threat. 

“I don’t want to leave you alone in this.” 

“Well, you have to because I’m telling you. With, with my voice. Go.” 

You close the last distance and pull him down to you.

“I said leave”, Jungkook insists panickedly, body tense. 

You rub your nose into the scent spot on his neck, hoping to spread some of your relaxing scent this way. He reeks of anxiety and guilt right now. 

Jungkook tries to protest again, fight you off and not appear weak, but you are very powerful in your attempts of calming him down, breaking him within a minute. 

“Why are you doing this?” he sighs out and hugs you, melting with you and revealing more of his neck to you. It feels so good. In no way in a sexual manner, but emotionally and physically and in some way also spiritually. 

Jungkook felt all over the place. He felt out of balance, without footing or a destination. He felt betrayed and hurt, but also anxious and insecure. It was eating him alive and all of a sudden, it is gone. All of it. It is just gone. And it’s all you. His head is quiet, his heart feels light and his stomach stopped twisting. He is free. And he is home. 

He buries his nose in the crook of your neck, right where your scent spot lies, and inhales deeply. He cradles you against him, strong hand on the back of your head and eyes closed. 

He exhales, shedding his heart of today’s burdens.

“I’m here now, Koo”, you whisper, playing with his hair slowly.

He never felt such relief before. Nor has he ever experienced such comfort. It goes so deep and feels so real. Jungkook wonders how he was able to get through life for so long without you. 

Sighing deeply in relief, he pulls you closer and puts his hands under your jumper so he can feel your skin. Warm and soft. You seem to melt closer from the touch, which only calms him down more.

It is a quiet moment as you and he stand on the porch and let the day finally stop bothering you. You and he aren’t aware yet that you are visible to anyone who could walk by your home, but if you were, you wouldn’t care. Let the world see that you and he found meaning in this once forced bond. Let them see what it means to be mates. And let his dumb father see that a bond between an omega and an alpha actually works. 

You change sides of his neck, wanting to make sure that he smells your scent equally. You stop by his lips as you make your way to it, having your eyes closed and resting your forehead against his’. He has his eyes closed as well, breathing slowly. Kisses are exchanged in the slowest rhythm ever. It is meditative. There is nothing else to him right now than you and what you are doing to him. Whenever he breathes in, it feels as if the air is filling literally every single fibre in his body. And when he breathes out, it feels as if he is ridding himself of toxins. He was never as aware of his energy flow than he is right now, breathing with you and sharing kisses. He can feel it coursing through him, mixing with your energy until it feels as if he is glowing from the inside out. And then you reach the other side of his neck, you nuzzle him and give him soft kisses and Jungkook feels invincible. 

His head rolls back in defeat, he sinks into you for just a second before his bodily instincts kick in again.

“Sorry, almost lost it”, he whispers, dragging his words.

“It’s okay. Should we go inside?”

“Yeah, let’s do that”, he says and picks you up with his hands under your butt.

Your legs instinctively close around his waist, your arms hug him. You keep your nose in his neck, getting droopy in his warm, relaxed scent. 

“I’m sorry that you had to see me like this. And I’m sorry for all the things I said. I didn’t mean them.”

“It’s okay. I get it. You have every right to be as upset as you were. I just, I don’t want you to think that this is who you are. You’re not aggressive or impulsive. I know you. You’re strong and kind and really sweet.”

“Thanks.”

“And your mom would be proud of who you became.”

He stops in his steps, looking up at you with glassy eyes. You cradle his cheeks.

“I remember when she would make us picnic baskets and call you home when it was dark out. She loved you so much. I know how she was. She would still love you and she would be happy for you.” 

He presses his eyes closed, spilling tears he doesn’t want to spill. He curses, showing his fangs in a desperate snarl to control his emotions.

“It’s okay, I’m here”, you whisper, nuzzling his scent spot again.

Jungkook stumbles to the entrance hall dresser and sits you down on it, holding you oh so close. 

“Holy fuck”, he croaks out.

“I know, I’m here. Right here.”

Jungkook got used to the feeling of grief in his chest. He learned that it will always be there and learned how to live with it. It doesn’t mean that it ever stopped bleeding. You stop it right now. It doesn’t feel like a gushing open wound in his chest. It is there, but it is bearable, as if he can finally carry it in his hands without cutting himself. 

And it is all you. You make it bearable, you keep him in this warm, healing space. 

“Thank you”, he whispers, “my mama would love you so much if she was still here.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure that she would tease you about how it happened though.”

“Yeah”, Jungkook laughs, covering up a sob with it.

You laugh with him, changing sides of his neck to make sure that he gets your soothing scent equally.

“Yeah, she would. But she would be happy for us. Mama always wanted me to bond out of love and I did.” He looks at your face. “I don’t ever wanna let you go. I can’t believe I lived without you for so long.”

You fluster, “wow, I don’t know what to say. I just…wow.”

“Don’t say anything. Just know that you’re the most amazing person ever.” 

“Shut up, don’t say that”, you mumble, nudging his chest and avoiding eye contact in nervousness.

He laughs, picking you up in his arms to get you closer. You snicker, holding him tightly. 

You and he fall asleep holding each other that night. Jungkook sleeps through the entire night, which he never did after past arguments with his father.

Jungkook wakes after you the next morning. Your side is empty and cold. He peels his heavy eyes open, shifting them to where you disappeared off to. 

The window bench, lost in a book and with your face still puffy from sleep. The rising sun is illuminating you. Jungkook swears that he is seeing an angel when he looks at you. His heart flutters and his stomach tingles. He has such immense feelings for you and seeing you be so utterly you only strengthens them.

“Good morning”, he murmurs sleepily. His cheek is squished on the pillow, his back peeks out from the blanket because he is lying on his stomach.

You lower the book at the sound of his voice, looking at him. He is smiling at you.

“Hey, good morning.”

“Why aren’t you in bed?” 

“I had to pee and then I saw the book and yeah, it was over for my sleepiness.”

“Mhm, whatever it was, get back here now”, he lulls and rolls to his side so he can open the blanket for you.

Your bedroom in the morning is really chilly because the timer for the heater hasn’t turned on yet. He smells so warm under the blanket. His invitation is incredibly easy to take. 

You put the book aside and hurry back to bed, climbing under the blanket. It is warmed up from him.

Jungkook purrs in contentment, pulling you against his chest and into his arms. He hides his nose in the crook of your neck, tickling your skin as he sniffles sleepily. 

“Mhm, my favourite smell”, he whispers, snuggling closer.

You still haven’t gotten used to being cared for in such ways. Of course you had boyfriends who were in love with you, but none of it felt like Jungkook’s affection feels. 

His affection feels so deep, so real and so eternal. As if nothing could ever change it. As if all he ever wanted to do was love you. It is unfamiliar but nice. So nice. 

The sun wanders over the horizon while his fingers wander over your arm and his lips take small steps on your neck. Your once chilly body heats up under the blanket and because of his incredibly warm body. It is such a cozy state to be in that you are fighting gravity with your eyelids.

He exhales deeply.

“What’s the matter?” you ask him.

“Just living in the moment. I feel like shit, but it’s, I don’t know, bearable like this...” He traces your side, mouthing at your neck as he talks. “...with you in my arms…so warm and soft.” He slips his hand under your shirt, touching your skin most tentatively. “My life’s bearable like this.” 

His words and gestures are sweet and filled with relaxation, but you can’t help still feel a twinge of sadness for him. If only you knew that behind the elitist, distant façade he put on, a deeply complex and troubled person was hiding. Perhaps you wouldn’t have hated him so deeply.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but still. I could have made the first step too, maybe tried to fix our friendship. I thought that you felt like you’re better than anyone and therefore didn’t want to hang with us anymore. If I knew what you were going through, I…I just feel guilty. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.” 

“Don’t be. I fucked it up, we grew up and thought that the other moved on. Of course I missed you, but I didn’t blame you.”

“Yeah well, I’m here now if you wanna talk.” 

Jungkook kisses your neck gently, whispering his words, “I’m gonna be okay. That’s just how my dad is. It’s okay.”

You keep quiet, but hold him closer. No kid should have to defend their own parents like that. But you also understand him. His father is the only kin Jungkook has left. If he cut him off, the last reminder of his once happy family dies right with it.

“But this is nice”, Jungkook says and shifts so he can kiss your cheek. He purrs and lifts his head to give you a smile, caressing your temple. 

You retort it, but apparently do such a bad job at it that he furrows his brows in worry.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“No, something’s up. Tell me.”

“I’m sorry that your dad sucks.”

He falters, looking to the side.

“Uhm, it’s fine. Thank you”, he says and sits up, “seriously, it’s fine.”

You sit up, closing the distance to hug his waist and kiss his shoulder. Jungkook places his hands over yours, leaning back into you. 

“If there is something I can do, just tell me”, you offer, rubbing his stomach and chest slowly, “I’m here for you from now on.” 

“Just be you. That’s all I need from you.” He takes your left hand and guides it to his lips. “Just be you.” He kisses the wedding band on your ring finger, resting his nose against it afterwards. “You bring me so much peace.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah”, he smiles to himself and squeezes your hands, “now I really gotta go. I need to shower because I feel like I stink.”

“No, you smell so good.”

“Thanks, but I still need to go.”

You get the sense that he needs this. Emotionally. That he needs this shower to leave yesterday truly behind him, watching it metaphorically run down the drain as he washes it off of him. So you let him.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be here when you come back. Today’s a lazy day, don’t wanna leave the bedroom.”

“I’m taking your words for it.”

And with that, he leaves for a shower while you sink back into the pillow. You stare at the ceiling for a while, thinking. 

You have wonderful parents. Of course they have their flaws and made mistakes like any parent does, but they love you. And you love them. You would describe your relationship with them as healthy. So you don’t have any first hand experiences of bad parents like Jungkook does. 

It doesn’t make your understanding and shared pain for his situation any less however. It hurts you to know that his father manages to hit him so deeply that Jungkook still recovers from it one day later. You make a promise to yourself that morning to be the shoulder he can always lean on. Because that’s what best friends are here for, that’s what mates do. 

For the rest of Jungkook’s shower, you think of him and everything you have already experienced together in your short time as mates.

Jungkook forgot to bring his briefs to the bathroom with him, joining you in the bedroom in nothing but his towel. Snug around his hips, it reaches him a little under his knees. His hair is freshly washed and blow dried. His torso is bare and dried off. You are sitting on the window bench, clearly waiting for him, when he joins you. 

The view of him instantly shoots warmth between your legs. It is instinct. You can’t help it. Especially when you woke up not that long ago and you are still so warm from being held. 

“Hey there, baby”, he greets you, making his way to his closet.

“Hey.” 

“Why are you sitting over there again?” he asks you, busy with picking out briefs. “Is the book that good?”

“No I uhm. I was thinking.”

“What were you thinking, baby?” 

You stand up and close the distance. Jungkook turns to you, giving you his full attention and his hands when you take them. The briefs are forgotten again. You lead him to the window bench. 

“I was thinking, you had a bad day yesterday and you still have a sucky morning and maybe I could make it better.”

“You already did. The thing you did yesterday was amazing. I haven’t slept that well in, like, basically ever. I feel so good, baby.”

“Yeah well, what if I do something else amazing too?” 

“I don’t seem to follow.”

You sit him down. Jungkook looks up at you because you are standing and therefore are taller than him. But there is no ounce of power shift in your dynamic. He might be looking up at you right now, but you still feel so utterly submissive to him. It is nice because it is safe and feels like home. He puts his hands on your waist, talking in a warm yet raspy voice.

“And what’s that something else supposed to be?” 

“Please don’t judge me. Promise.”

“I promise. Now tell me. Come on baby, don’t make me work for it”, he encourages you, rubbing slow circles into your lower back. He slipped his hands under your sleep shirt, so his current touch is addicting. So warm and raw. You could honestly melt in his hands once he gets you started.

You put your hands on his strong shoulders and take a deep breath to gather your courage. You make your confession as you breathe out.

“Can I give you a blowjob?” 

Jungkook gawks with widened eyes, giving you his answer in the form of shocked silence. It makes you nervous and so you shift from one foot to the other.

“Please say something”, you whisper.

“Why on earth did you think that I would judge you for this?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I-I know it’s a lot of me to ask and kinda insensitive. Oh god, is it insensitive? I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean-”

He silences your nervous babbling by cupping your cheek and pulling you down into a kiss. Your knees buckle instantly, the electric pull he has on you, tugs you on top of his lap. A small moan escapes you when his hands instinctively grab your ass and squeeze. The touch is so tender and possessive. It feels so good. Honestly, you would have started to kiss him until your lips were tired if he didn’t break the kiss to talk.

“Don’t apologise. Yes, baby?”

You nod your head, whispering a shy “yes.”

“Yes. That’s good.” He gives you a sweet smile, running his strong hands to your waist. “You’d actually want to blow me?”

You nod your head. 

“Kook, I missed you”, you confess and rest your forehead against his’. 

Jungkook chases the affection, sliding his hands into your pants and back to your ass to squeeze it gently.

“You missed me?” he whispers, letting you taste his minty breath while his fingers drive you just a little bit insane.

“Yeah, when you were in the shower, I missed you. I, I thought of us and my life and how awesome it is to be your mate and then I thought of the sex we’re having and how good you always make me feel.”

“I do. That’s so important to me, baby”, he rasps, kneading your soft buttocks. His touch is needy. He can’t deny it. Feeling your naked skin under his fingertips after such a yesterday is healing him as much as it turns him on. His instincts tell him to get you naked and fuck you until his anger is gone. His love for you tells him to take it slow and really saviour the current moment. As always, the latter wins. It will always win when it comes to you.

“And then I thought about all the things we haven’t done yet. And I never gave you head before and I…” you exhale shakily, giving his shoulders a needy squeeze, “Koo, I really need to have your cock in my mouth. Please can I make the bad yesterday go away? A-and maybe make this morning nice?” 

“Yes, holy fuck, of course you can”, he breathes out, pulling you against his body and claiming your lips in a passionate kiss. 

You almost fall sweet victim to it, but stop yourself before that can happen, breaking the kiss.

He purrs, chasing you. 

“You have to tell me what to do. I really suck at taking the lead”, you confess, giving him shy puppy eyes.

He chuckles, “I can do that. What if I tell you to surprise me? Mhm? That you have free range of my body and I want you to surprise me?” 

He takes your hands and begins guiding them over his bared torso. 

You follow the touch with your eyes, heart racing and breath speeding up. 

“You can touch me wherever you want to.” He makes you trace his pecs. “Feel me up.” He guides your fingers over his ribs. “Turn me on”, he purrs and drags your fingers through the ridges of his impressive abs.

“Kook”, you moan, writhing on his lap. You are soaking through your shorts by now, getting it all over his towel as well. The morning sun shines so beautifully on his skin, really bringing out how muscular he actually is. And just how sun kissed his skin is.

“You can do whatever you want, baby. Why? Because that’s what I’m ordering you to do”, he says, making you trace the glimpses of his pubes sticking out from the towel.

“Oh god”, you whimper, salivating to the point of barely containing it.

“Is this something you can do for me, baby? Can you be my good omega and surprise me?”

“Yes, I can do that”, you press out, voice quivering in excitement. You gulp down your saliva hungrily, spilling some down your chin. You can’t help it. Your body is preparing for his cock in your mouth and it is such a turn on for you.

“Look at you.” He wipes the drool for you. “Does it turn you on to follow my commands?” 

“Yeah, so much. Koo, I want to kiss your chest. Please.”

“Do whatever you want. I’m all yours, baby.” 

“Oh god”, you get out and begin. You can barely breathe. You are so nervous. This is such unexplored terrain for you. Being the one to touch and kiss is new to you. Normally you are the one receiving, but something about Jungkook makes you want to give. It still doesn’t take away the fact that you have no idea how to give. 

His neck first. This is familiar to you and gives you the needed confidence boost. It also really turns you on because his scent spots smell more and more like arousal. It is such a masculine scent, more lethal than any cologne could ever be. Sitting on his lap feels so good as you kiss and suck his neck.

Jungkook is in heaven, eyes closed sensually and body feeling weightless. Your mouth feels amazing on his scent spots, giving him the most intense tingles. It’s different this morning than it was yesterday. The deepest feelings you communicate are still to relax, but the intention is something else. This is meant to relax him so he can take the pleasure you are about to give him without any stresses in his head. And it’s working. Jungkook feels fucking droopy. 

Soon you have enough confidence to take on an unfamiliar path. Down along his collarbones to his chest. Jungkook takes his hands off your body and puts them behind himself so he can lean back a little. 

You have better access like this, using your fingertips to get used to the unfamiliar paths. Up close like this, his strength is so noticeable. Shit, you are so into him. Feeling a little crazy, you grace your teeth over his skin. Jungkook purrs, pecs twitching as he tenses them in reaction to your bite. 

You shy away instantly, sitting up and covering your mouth behind your hands.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook tries not to show his disappointment, but you still see it. It increases your shyness. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes.

“Why are you sorry, sweetie?” he asks you in a soft voice.

“I just haven’t done this before. Do you even like this?”

“Yes, baby I do. I like it too when I get some loving.”

“Oh.” You squirm on his lap. “This is hot. Do you really like it?”

“I do. It’s nice to lean back and really enjoy it for once.”

“Oh wow, Kook. Okay, this is so hot”, you confess and close the distance. His confession motivates you. It isn’t weird for him to receive as a change. He likes it. It turns him on. 

Dripping pleasure on his lap, you kiss and bite his chest with new found confidence. And Jungkook reacts in deep purrs and tenses of his pecs. His head is rolled back and his eyes are closed. He is utterly lost to the touches, turning you on with his scent and sounds. 

It isn’t long after, that you feel brave enough to take the next step. You take his nipple between your teeth and tug.

“Yeah…fuck” he cups the back of your head, arching into your mouth, “good girl, that’s amazing.” 

His praise makes you shudder. You drool and whimper as you kiss a path to his other nipple to repeat what you did. Suck, lick, bite and tug.

“Yes baby, yes”, Jungkook lulls, petting you in motivation. 

Change sides again. Maybe tug a little harder. Jungkook moans. Change sides. More confidence. Jungkook growls and closes his fingers around your hair. 

“You’re driving me insane”, he gets out under his breath, fighting for his air in deep pants afterwards. 

You have to look at him, kiss him and taste his moans. The kiss starts sloppily. Jungkook feeds you his tongue instantly, holding your hair possessively while his other hand rubs your soaked cunt over your shorts. This is his version of rewarding you for being such a good omega and it makes you mewl into his mouth unapologetically. 

“Koo, I’m so horny”, you confess. 

“Me too, baby. Wanna do disgusting things to you”, he says, giving your swollen clit an especially good rub.

You tremble, giving him your neediest puppy eyes. 

“But you’re not done. Give me more, baby”, he orders and takes his touch away. 

“Oh god.”

It hurts to be denied, but you aren’t sad about it. Being denied means that you can explore him more and you found your new obsession for it. You slip off his lap and kneel down between his legs. He spreads them for you in such a sexy way. With a needy moan, you connect your puffy lips with his upper stomach. You grab his sides, tingling when you can feel him tense up and later shiver. 

“Yeah, holy fuck…” Jungkook moans, rolling his head back and closing his eyes.

You mewl, drooling like crazy. His stomach is so sculpted and strong. Each new inch you explore, you kiss and lick and bite, makes you feel subbier and subbier. He is so strong and you get to worship him. Oh god, this is so hot.

“Keep going, fuck, so good…”

Jungkook gets pleasure through pleasing. This is what he thought was in his nature. This is what an Alpha is supposed to do. Please, give, touch. Jungkook thought that this is what he is supposed to enjoy. 

What you are currently doing, is rewriting his definition of wrong and right. Nothing which is “wrong” feels this fucking good. He is meant to get some loving too. And getting your loving is everything he ever needed.

It makes him desperate in ways which were still unknown to him. As a matter of fact, they get him so needy that he gives you his version of a beg when you finally reach his lower stomach. You are nuzzled into his faint happy trail when he begs.

“Fucking hell, if you don’t take off my towel soon and take care of It, Imma lose my fucking mind.”

You mewl something unintelligible, speeding up in your needy licks. Your hands follow his command while your mouth takes his exposed state to explore his scent spots. 

“Fuck. Woah”, Jungkook gasps, hands falling to your head and legs shaking in surprise. 

“Kook, oh my god. You smell so good”, you whimper, rubbing your face into his inner thighs. You need his scent all over you. 

“Baby, I’m serious. I’ll lose my mind, fuck. Ah fuck”, Jungkook warns, head pounding and cock aching. So this is how it feels to have his scent spots stimulated. No wonder that he regularly forces you into impromptu heat when he does it to you. All Jungkook can think about right now is rutting into you, knotting you and breeding you with his cum until he is alive inside you. The desire gets stronger and stronger and stronger and then it suddenly gets replaced by a new desire. The desire to fuck your pretty face until you are fed a full course meal of cum. 

The reason for his change of mood is your tongue licking his balls vigorously while your hands rub his scent spots. You keen needily as you do it.

Jungkook growls, tugging you away from him by a bundle of your hair. You mewl, gasping for air because of his strong grip.

“Stop teasing me or I’ll punish you”, he growls, but adds in the most loving and soft voice, “okay, baby? Do it for me.”

“Yes, Alpha”, you mewl and lower your head. You give his scent spots a bite each, then finally pay attention to his cock.

You dance a wet path from his balls to his swollen base up to his heated tip with your tongue, wrapping both hands around his base afterwards.

“___ baby…”

Jungkook watches you as you sink him in. Your lips look so good stretching around his girth. His head is pounding. This is the sexiest thing which ever happened to him.

“There we go, take me in”, he praises you, caressing your cheek gently. “What a good omega you are.”

You whimper, sucking on his tip vigorously.

Jungkook frowns, “urgh fucking intense. Yeah that’s it, baby. Suck me off.” 

Drool runs down his shaft, messying your fingers. You use it to your advantage, jerking off his base with it.

“Fuck, so good. Do you like it? Mhm, does Alpha taste good, baby?” Jungkook lulls, vision just a little blurry because you suck him off really fucking hard.

You slip off of him, voice quivering as you answer him.

“Alpha tastes so good. Thank you, ah, so much”, you get out, shaking with your entire body. Of course you love it. Your dream is coming true. You get to taste your Alpha’s cock. Your need for him is unbearable. 

You open wide and take him in completely. Your nose hits his crotch, your lips feel his balls.

“Woah. Wait”, Jungkook gasps, stopping you instantly. He even pulls you off of him.

“What?” you ask him, looking up at him with needy eyes.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Force all of me inside. I know I said to stop teasing, but I didn’t mean it like that. You can stay at the tip. You don’t have to push yourself.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you don’t have to make yourself gag for me.”

You widen your eyes in shock, staying silent long enough for Jungkook to become a little nervous.

“What?” he stresses.

“Did you…never get head from an omega before?”

“Why…is this so bad?” 

“No, it’s not. It’s just that…can I show you?”

“Sure?” he sounds unsure, but that’s okay, he will feel amazing in one, two, three. 

Jungkook gasps and tenses up, face falling in utter shock as you take him in completely and instantly start bopping your head up and down quickly.

“Woah, woah, woah. Woah. Fuck, wait. Woah.” 

He somehow manages to pull you off of him again. His cock slaps his abs, leaving a mess of spit and his pleasure. It throbs, begging to be taken in again.

“What was that?” he breathes out, pupils blown out and eyes glowing golden.

“Did you not like it?” 

“You didn’t gag.”

“We, uhm, omegas, you know, we can switch it off.”

“You can?!”

“Yeah, we can. When we’re with someone we really like, it happens automatically and I…” You nuzzle your nose into his scent spot, kissing it a few times before looking up at him. “I didn’t have to switch it off with you.”

“Wait. Oh my god, wait. Does that mean?”

“Yeah, I guess I really like you, Koo.”

“Baby, I’m. Wait, don’t make me get emotional, I-” He cups you cheek. “Baby, my love. Oh my god, my love.”

You giggle, “yeah, I guess it’s out there”, you say and take him back inside. 

“Yeah..it’s out there. Fuck, woah”, Jungkook croaks out and rolls his head back, burying his hand in your hair as deeply as your texture allows it as your warm mouth engulfs him entirely. He twists it a little, having to moan your name as you make him experience pleasure he never felt before.

You moan right with him, having to grasp his waist for support. You need it because it’s very difficult not to lose yourself.

Giving head for an omega is different than for others of the pack. Giving head has an almost drug-like effect on an omega, leaving it delirious and ecstatic. If the person they are giving head to is another omega or a beta, the effect is mild and an omega can easily go back to being normal afterwards. If the person is someone with the Alpha gen, it is a different story. 

Being close to an Alpha’s scent spots, tasting their pleasure and essentially getting bred in one way or another, bring the omega into a state of disillusion and an inability to think for themselves.

In the most disgusting and twisted circles of the werewolf community, evil Alphas use this to get disobedient omegas back under their control. The details of how such cruel acts happen will not be disclosed here, but trust, dear reader, that it is rarely gentle or consensual.

But Jungkook isn’t such an Alpha. Jungkook is kind and loving and gentle beyond anything else. And Jungkook is your true mate, which means that you have even less control over the effects his cock has on you.

You are so greedy for more, clawing at his waist to desperately get more of him inside. You mewl and sob as you do, barely breathing.

“Breathe, my love. Breathe”, Jungkook orders you, despite being so far gone. Because he is a loving Alpha. Because he knows how to make you feel safe. 

Your body obeys his orders because you are currently under his control and fighting your instincts is impossible. You breathe and breathe and breathe. Then get too greedy again. 

His base is starting to swell. Just a little bit. You wrap your left hand around his flushed tip to jerk it off while you connect your messy mouth with his growing knot. You tongue kiss the area sloppily, adding sucks to it as well. An Alpha’s knot is just as sensitive as his cockhead is. Perhaps even a little bit more sensitive. 

“___, holy fuck”, Jungkook gets out, actually closing his legs on you because of how good this feels. He moans loudly, throwing his head back to the point where he loses balance and drops into the pillows. 

He throws his left arm over his own eyes, moaning like a fucking pornstar while the morning sun shines onto his glowing face. He can feel his knot grow. It’s you who does this to him because of how good you make it feel.

“Baby, please don’t stop”, he actually begs, rolling his hips desperately to keep the stimulation going.

“Koo, I’m yours”, you get out and sink him back inside. His knot hinders you from deep throating him, but this doesn’t stop you. You wrap both your hands around his knot, jerking it off in circular motions while your mouth takes care of the rest. 

Jungkook writhes, voice pitching because of how honestly ruined you get him. His hands flail around for a little while, finding their support on the edge of the window bench. He grips it. Which is something totally new to him. He never had to grip something for support before. Especially not the edge of something. He feels like a fucking whore.

“Please don’t stop, it feels so good”, he gets out, squeezing the edge harder. 

Which honestly? It isn’t all that bad to feel this way because you give him so much pleasure. The kind of pleasure he swears should be illegal for an Alpha to feel.

Can people see him? He’s got windows all around him and the sun illuminates him like he is a fucking star. Can people see him? Can they see how the future Alpha of the pack is getting sucked off? Are they fucking jealous of their Alpha? Because he’s got the best wife and they don’t?

“Shit urgh”, he arches his back at the thought of people passing by and jealously watching their future Alpha get head, “don’t stop, holy fuck. Sweetie. I feel fucking high. Aaaahmmm.”

You couldn’t stop even if someone tried to drag you off of him. Jungkook’s constant begs not to stop manifest themselves in your drugged mind as little orders. Don’t stop. Alpha wants more. Don’t stop. You can’t stop even if someone tried to drag you off of him and it’s sacrilegious to you. 

You don’t want to stop. His taste is heaven. His scent is overwhelming. You have never smelled so much fucking pleasure on him. It’s making you even droopier.

“Yes baby, yes. My good omega. My fucking pretty omega”, Jungkook growls, sending you deeper into your delirious headspace.

Oh my god, you fucking love being his good omega. You sob around him, spilling tears. You love being his omega. You love it. You love it. You love it.

Trapped in your ecstatic omega space, you didn’t realise how much sloppier you became with your blowjob until Jungkook’s right hand in your hair lets you know. 

“Baby, you’re making me cum”, he gets out, tensing his stomach.

You mewl, shaking more than he does. You need his high. You need it so fucking bad. You suck him off harder, speeding up your hands around his throbbing knot. Please. You need him.

“Now, baby. ___ baby, now!” Jungkook tries to warn you but to no avail. He climaxes down your throat in thick spurts of his seed, gripping your head with both hands to rut up into you. 

He hits the back of your throat like this, really testing your jaw. Not that you mind. You are so drugged that he could do anything to you and you wouldn’t mind. All you can take in is hot cum down your throat and the ecstatic effect it has on you.

Jungkook comes down after seven thrusts, growling demonically and pulling you off. If he didn’t, his instincts would have kicked in and he would have hurt you. Your mouth is not your cunt. He can’t breed it like he could your pussy. He has to be stronger than his instincts. 

Using his abs, he sits up. His thighs are still twitching.

“Come up here you”, he orders you in a lull, pulling you to your feet and into a sloppy kiss. 

You fall on top of his lap, feeling limp in his arms. Like a little doll unable to use her muscles. Jungkook holds you safely, licking his cum out of your mouth. Tears mix with your drool and his cum. Jungkook instantly tastes them, breaking the kiss in worry. 

A mixture of drool and creamy cum seeps out your mouth, your cheeks are wet in tears. You whimper, desperately trying to get him to kiss you again. You can’t open your eyes, looking so goddamn intoxicated.

“Did I hurt you, sweetie? Is this why you’re crying?”

He can see from the way you move and your face is, that you are currently non verbal in submission. He instinctively knows that he could either break you right now or fix you up depending on how he will use this power.

“Arms up, baby.”

Your body obeys. He takes off your sleep shirt, pressing you against his chest like this. 

Naked skin and naked skin, he begins moving you and him in a slow grind. Your scent spots rub against his’, exchanging not only pleasure but also comfort. It slowly brings you back to him and Jungkook knows that, holding you through it. 

His knot shrinks again in the time, but his cock stays swollen. The situation you and he are in is too sensual and intimate for him to grow soft. His utmost desire still lies in breeding you. Oh, how he wants to breed you, his perfect omega. His. All his.

“Mine. You’re mine. You know that, mhm? You’re my pretty omega. Just mine.” 

“Yours”, you get out. 

“Hey baby, you’re back”, Jungkook breathes and lifts your head by cupping your cheek. “How are you doing? I was a little rough at the end. Is your jaw okay?”

“Yeah ‘s okay. I want more, but it’s so hard to move.”

“I know, baby. Do you trust me?”

You nod your head, leaning into his palm.

“Alpha is safe”, you lull, sending his heart into overdrive. He’s got you feeling safe. Fuck, he would set the whole world on fire if it meant you kept feeling like this.

“Thank you for your trust, baby. Now let me kiss you. You fucking ruined me”, he says and pulls you into a kiss, which you eagerly retort.

He moans deeply, picking you up while his tongue licks onto your mouth. It is like he is starving, like his own taste on your tongue is a drug to him. You moan just as much, writhing in his strong arms.

He carries you to bed like this. Kissing you as if he was starving. He lies you down by the edge of it, breaking the kiss when your head is tangling over the edge. He climbs off bed and rounds you so you have a view of him and his heavy cock between his fingers. He looks so big and veiny like this, forcing drool to the tip of your tongue. You sigh his name, opening and closing your mouth in hunger. You need him so bad.

“Tap your foot if you had enough”, he says and connects his leaking tip with your chin to drag it to your lips. “Now open up.”

You obey gladly, gurgling in ecstasy when Jungkook sinks his leaking cock back into your mouth. 

“That’s it. Take all of me”, he purrs, caressing your cheeks. His eyes are dark, lowered sexily as he gazes down at you. “So beautiful, taking me like this. Is it nice for you?”

You moan around him, nodding your head as best as possible. This is heaven. He fills you out so well. You could honestly orgasm with your throat because of how good it feels. 

“Fuck, it does…fuck, you drive me insane”, he rasps and picks up a rhythm. Finally. Fucking finally. 

You whimper, eyes instantly rolling back and jaw going slack. This is your heaven. This is everything you ever wanted. 

Jungkook watches your blissed reaction with a tingling stomach. He mewls, scrunching his nose and biting his lower lip at the same time. You are so beautiful, turning him on like no one else ever did. Quite frankly, Jungkook wasn’t even aware of how hard his cock can actually get. But being inside you like this, is showing him new sides of pleasure.

“This is so sexy, you have no idea”, he confesses, caressing your soft cheeks, “I’m making love to your face. It’s..hah it’s heaven, seriously.”

You whimper around him, reaching up behind you to touch him. You need to hold him, digging your fingers into the softness of his butt. It forces him to go even deeper, making him moan from the deepest parts of his stomach. He gasps afterwards, abs rippling and thighs twitching.

“Wow. Fuck. Holy fuck, wow”, he lets out, scrunching his face even harder. “So deep. What the fuck, wow.”

You moan with him, spilling tears of joy. He is right, he is so deep. So deep that you can feel his pubes tickle your nose and so deep that you drown in his masculine scent. Your body quivers, throat convulsing around his girth. You scratch down his butt against your will, stopping only when you have his thighs between your claws instead. So tensed and so big. It motivates you to take him even deeper. You lift your head as best as possible, bopping it back and forth on his cock.

“Fuck, your throat…it’s bulging so nicely, I just wanna…” he trails off, ghosting his thumbs over it as if he wanted to choke you. He doesn’t give in, not wanting to hurt you or go too far. 

You however want him to continue. You want him to steal your air and make you his’ in any way possible. You grasp his hands and pull them into place, doing the job for him. 

“___”, your name leaves him in a deep growl, cock throbbing in your tight throat. His strong hand closes around it, forcing it to tighten even more. 

You wail, clasping his lower arms with your claws exposed. 

“You’re so tight. Holy fuck, look at you taking me. Fuck. I can feel myself. Shit, baby. This is so hot”, he is babbling, which is new for him. It is insanely hot, driving you to the brink of insanity.

Air is sparse like this and you want it. You want to choke on his cock. You need it. You need to feel every second of it entering your mouth, every inch of throat he bulges, every tender spot appearing on your neck as he chokes it. 

You feel so high and satisfied and yet at the same time, you ache. You ache for more of him, wishing for something of him to fill you more. And more. More. 

“If you keep moving your hips like that baby, Imma think you’re tryna make me jealous with the air. Why you humping it, hmh?” Jungkook lulls his words, switching his hungry gaze between your fucked face and your needy hips.

You mewl, writhing. You can’t do it. He is tightening his grip on you, burying his thick cock deeper. His balls slap your face as he fucks it, his scent is making you foggy. And now he is teasing you. 

You can’t take it anymore, slipping your hand between your legs to take away the pain. You whimper around him, choking oh so sloppily as your fingers try to make up for the emptiness. Three digits. Three digits are buried inside your weeping cunt and it doesn’t help. You still feel empty, unsatisfied, needy. A fourth one doesn’t make any difference. You pump and twist and fuck your fingers into yourself, hoping that one of those things will scratch the itch, but it doesn’t. It only makes it worse because it makes you miss him.

It was a foggy evening, cold and wet and dark, when Jungkook showed you what his fingers could do for the first time. It happened in the living room, during a movie date which you planned to keep romantic. There were only supposed to be cuddles and snacks. One hour into the movie however, he had you naked and spread out on the couch while he drilled his long, tattooed fingers into your puffy walls. You might have ripped one of the cushions that evening.

And right now, it is haunting you. You want his fingers. Please. His fingers felt so good. He did it so much better, he fucked you so much deeper. Please.

You push him away with your free hand. Jungkook listens, letting his cock slip from your mouth. He holds it over your face, watching the spit drip from his tip back onto your lips.

“Please, it hurts. I want yours”, you beg, thrusting your hips up needily.

“Aww I see. I was already wondering what you were oh so clumsily attempting to do”, he teases you. “Let me do it, sweetie. Don’t worry, your Alpha’s got.”

He slides his hand into your shorts and swipes your hand away, giving you your sweet relief by sinking his long fingers into your dripping cunt. The position naturally allows his palm to press against your clit, applying such warm and intense pressure that you sob his name. He instantly picks up a quick rhythm, forcing you to cry out and claw at his hips in your clumsy attempt to get his cock back inside. He gives in for you, fucking his girth back into you in one harsh thrust. His right hand falls back to your throat, his hips pick up a punishing rhythm. The kind of rhythm which turns your moans into choking gurgles and which constantly slaps his heavy balls against your face. And how it leaves you feeling high. You stopped trying to swallow, letting the spit spill out of you messily and endlessly. It smears all over his cock and your face like this, making the glide so much easier.

“There we go, make those pretty sounds. Try to breathe whenever I pull out, baby. Breathe.”

You obey him. Breathe. Moan. Breathe. Sob. Breathe. Wail. Breathe and breathe and moan some more. You are so utterly his’. 

He has your face fucked, your throat claimed and now your cunt as well. Nothing. Truly nothing is missing.

“Yes baby suck on it. Suck it dry, baby. Suck it, yes baby. Yes. Fuck. Yes.” He is babbling, being loud with you as you shake and writhe your way to your orgasm. 

If this continues, it won’t be long. You are so high on him. So fucking high. Tears stream down your temples, your throat is starting to get sore from his rough breeding. You aren’t aware of it yet because you are truly lost to him. 

He is just as lost. It hasn’t been that long and your pussy is already so lose around his two fingers. Greedily, he slips in his pointer finger and pinkie too. You wail up, throbbing around him as you take his fist.

“Feels good?” 

“Ymgmeahm”, you gurgle out, grasping his hips to the point you leave marks.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you, baby. Gonna put some puppies down your throat, make you my fucking cumslut”, Jungkook is losing it, which means that he is just as drugged as you are. Just in his own kind of way.

The kind of way which means that you are getting fucked harder and better. Which also means that he brings you over the edge mere moments later.

“Ah! Baby!” he yelps, legs stuttering. He throws his head back. “___!” 

He orgasms right with you, finding his crescendo deep in throat, which forces you over the edge a second time. And while your screams are muffled by his heavy cock, his scream bounces off the bedroom walls.

He didn’t even know that he could be this fucking loud. Normally, he is always the one who gets his partners screaming. Or in his case ever since he became your true mate, who gets you, his pretty wife, screaming. But this is new. He can scream as well. And it’s fucking needed because you make him feel goddamn invincible like this.

The moments after your highs died down are messy. It should have been enough, but it wasn’t. You want the stretch of his cock while Jungkook feels the need to truly use his strength. No more holding back for the sake of your jaw. 

Besides, he wants to make the cumshots count. He wants to feel fucking alive inside you again. Which has been his favourite thing to do ever since you and he bonded.

You drag yourself out of the position and onto your knees while he tries to make sense of what happened. You pull the shorts off of you, sobbing as you do.

“Please”, you beg, “please more, please.”

“You’re insatiable.”

You begin trembling, looking in pain. If he doesn’t give you another dose of him soon, you will pass out in withdrawal.

“Please, it hurts. Please.”

“Hey, calm down for me” he whispers and cradles your cheeks.

Your body obeys. The shakes stop. You look up into his eyes submissively. He is so tall and dominant, taking up your entire vision. And yet, he is gentle. He holds you with no strength and talks to you in a soothing voice.

“I want you too, but I need to make sure you actually want it. Tell me your honest feelings without taking me in account”, he orders. He knows that your little omega body wants to please him. That everything wants to make sure that he is satisfied. But he wants your truth. 

“Please, I want you. It’s, it’s the truth.”

“Yes? Does my little omega want more?”

“Yes, Alpha. More”, you hug him, feeling so small against him, “please more.”

“God, you drive me insane”, he rasps and lifts you to carry you back to the window sill. He lies you down on it, chuckling when you spread your legs all on your own. 

Your pussy is throbbing. She is so wet and puffy. 

“Fuck sweetie, I’m so lucky to have you. Can’t believe I get to fuck such a pretty pussy”, he purrs and sticks his cock into you.

You wail up, arching your back. Tears instantly shoot to your eyes and your body trembles.

“Shit sorry, I forgot to warn you. You okay?”

“Thank you, Koo thank you”, you sob, writhing in ecstasy.

“Mhhhm babyyyy, you drive me insane”, he purrs and grabs your hips to pull them up and on his cock. Your legs hook themselves over his lower arms, your body is bent so he can drill you oh so deep.

“Such a good omega. Fuck, keep moaning for me”, he encourages you, staring down at you with obsession in his golden eyes.

Your eyes are closed, your mouth is open. Your body writhes and shakes. Your skin is glowing in a sheer layer of sweat, reflecting the sunlight. Fuck, it looks so pretty on your nipples. How plumb they are. 

Jungkook pinches them, soaking up the wail you let out because of it. They leak a little, making the massage easier. 

“Fucking look at you. You’re fucking meant to be bred”, he growls. His hips rut into you without him having to concentrate on moving. It’s instinct. He’s inside his omega and his body knows exactly what to do.

“How are you that good?” he rasps, staring at you with a dizzy head.

“Good…what?” 

“Good at making it all better.” He thrusts into you as if he is trying to reward you for your mere existence. “Good at distracting me.” Another thrust, a twist of your nipples, quivers down your legs. “Good at being you. Perfect, amazing you.” He fucks into you with each word, knocking the most delicious moans out of you.

He pulls out of you just to watch your slick spill from your puffy cunt. He runs his heavy cock through it, playing with your stretched entrance. 

“You’re just so fucking good”, he rasps and pushes back inside. 

You wail, arching your back.

“Please rougher”, you beg instantly.

“Like this? Do you like it?” 

“More. Please, more. Kook please.”

Jungkook feels invincible when you are like this. It hasn’t been long since you and he have bonded. It has been three months, two weeks and one day to be exact. Jungkook counted the days. It hasn’t been long, but it has been long enough for you and him to fuck way too many times. You just love it too much. It is as if you can’t stop doing it. 

Whenever he gets you like this, so cockdrunk and needy for his rougher sides, Jungkook feels invincible. He wants to fulfil your every wish and keep you safe. This is your shared moment. Only he will ever see you so submissive and vulnerable and he would be damned if he didn’t keep you safe while he rearranges your insides.  

He lifts you up onto the window bench so you are kneeling on all fours and looking outside. He joins you on top of it. Your body falls to the front, colliding with the window. He slams his hand on the glass right above your hand, eyes shifting to the world outside. He towers over you, letting anyone know that trying to take you from him would end in fucking death. You’re his’. 

“Is this alright for you? Wanna make the world see how good we fuck?” he makes sure because he knows that once you are high on pleasure, you can’t really think for yourself anymore. He wants to make sure that you are aware of what is happening to you, that you always have a chance to change something.

“Yes, okay. Just please. Harder.” 

“Anything you want. Take me, baby. All of me.” He fills you up from behind, slinging his strong arm around you to hold you against his strong chest. “Let everyone see who makes you feel that good.”

You sob his name, sinking back into him. Your head hits his chest, your fingers grasp his lower arm. 

“Happy, so happy”, you whimper, drooling on his arm.

“Me too, baby. So happy”, he rasps, drilling his huge cock into you. The sunlight hits it each time he pulls out, really showcasing just how fucking wet you get him. “You like how I fuck you, sweetie?”

“Yeah, rough. So good”, you mewl, writhing in his arms.

“Mhm what a good omega you are, fuck”, Jungkook growls and slips his left hand to your pussy. He takes your swollen clit between his fingers and begins playing with it.

Of course you wail up because of it. Of course your pussy throbs around his cock. And of course you arch your back in the prettiest of ways.

Jungkook watches your nipples leak in pleasure, going insane because in the same fucking view he can also see how his cock is entering you repeatedly. He’s so big that your stomach bulges each time he ruts into you. Leaking nipples and cock filled tummies. Jungkook growls at the view, biting your neck right on your scent spot.

You sob his name, limp body shaking in his arms and legs quaking. He is going to make you climax. You’re his’. And now the whole pack is going to see.

Months ago, the thought of sealing your bond so publicly scared you. Right now, the potential of being watched is ecstatic to you. This is the future pack Alpha who’s fucking like this and you’re the girl he chose as his queen.

“You know that I’m so happy it’s you?” He rasps into your ear while his fingers torture your puffy clit to an orgasm. “You know that I wouldn’t want it any other way?”

Bonds between Alphas and omegas are rare in the werewolf community. Alphas don’t want to risk their pups being born with the omega gen and therefore most Alphas bond with other Alphas to guarantee their offspring to have the Alpha gen. Sex between Alphas and omegas is a more common thing, but marriage? Not that much. Too many risks. 

Sometimes you feel so wrong as Jungkook’s mate. You know how his father thinks of you and there are probably others in the pack who share his feelings. Being Jungkook’s mate bears the risk that your pups are going to be born as omegas too. It’s a risky marriage. 

Hearing Jungkook talk like this as he fucks you against the windows for everyone to see, changes you as a person.

“I gotta be the luckiest fucking Alpha out there, baby. I have a pretty omega as my wife. I’m the goddamn luckiest bastard.”

“Jungkook”, you mewl, grasping his hair as his words send you off the edge.

“You liked that, didn’t you? What a pretty omega you are cumming for me. That’s it, sweetie. Cream my cock, good omega. Such a good girl”, he talks you through it, rubbing your clit as he writes his name on your throbbing walls.

Panickedly, you reach down to get his hand to stop. He is stronger than you, torturing you and holding you close.

“I-I will- Jung- I- please”, you stutter.

“Don’t hold back, baby. Let’s show the pack how prettily my omega can squirt.”

“Jungkook”, you wail, sinking into yourself as he sets you off. 

He growls, pressing you against the window as he fucks the pretty liquid out of you.

“Yes princess, yes. Urgh what a good omega you are. Give me everything. That’s it”, he talks you through it. Of course he does. Jungkook always talks you through your orgasms, which is reason on its own to be totally crazy. You’ve got this sexy, strong Alpha as your mate and on top of it all, he always talks you through it.

You’ve got to be luckiest omega in existence. 

Jungkook is rougher after your high. His voice is deeper too. His grip is punishingly strong.

“I need to use your body. Can I? I’m so close.”

“Please”, you beg and sob when seconds later, you get pushed down into the pillows. The top of your head is pressed against the window, the sun shines right onto your face. You can’t open your eyes, crying tears because you are so sensitive and he drills you as if you have a debt to pay.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry, it’s gonna be over soon. I’m sorry”, he chants, keeping you down with one hand on your head. He hates seeing you cry, but it’s impossible to stop. He needs to rut, breed you and make you his’. “I’m so fucking sorry. Oh god, baby. I can’t stop.”

Something holds him back. Maybe it’s guilt. He doesn’t want to do this to you, but can’t stop. Fuck, why can’t he cum? Jungkook ruts even harder despite not wanting to. He feels so fucking guilty.

“I’m sorry, I can’t- I-”

“Feels so good, Koo. Koo. Please Koo”, you sob and shut off his guilt for breeding you with such strength.

The intense pleasure returns, hitting him with such intensity that Jungkook arches his back and throws his head back.

“___!” he moans, feeling his orgasm finally hit him. “Holy fuck”, he gets out, falling to the front. He cushions his fall with one arm against the window, dropping his head against it as he fills you with his creamy cum in heavy spurts. 

You sob his name, finding one more high because of his cum, but you know that you couldn’t take any more afterwards. You are ruined. This was the last thing your drugged omega body needed to be completely satisfied. Now you are finally filled up with him on both ends. Your tummy is truly only there to carry his pleasure. What a perfect life you are living.

Jungkook finishes with a growl of your name, then a tremble of his body and a curse. 

“Holy fuck, sweetie”, he croaks, pulling you up into his arms. He kisses and nuzzles you instantly, whispering the sweetest words repeatedly, “I love you, I love you, oh sweetie. My sweetie, I love you.” 

“I…I love you too.”

“What?” 

He pulls out and turns you, cradling your cheeks. His eyes are widened, racing between yours in urgency.

“What did you just say?”

“I love you too.”

“You don’t mean that”, he seems in disbelief, voice quivering.

“I do.”

“No. No, you don’t. Baby”, his lower lip quivers. He pulls you closer, tilting your head up so you can still look at each other. You are so close like this that you feel his breath tickle your lips as he talks, “tell me you’re not serious.”

“But I am”, you insist, touching his waist, “Koo, I love you.”

Jungkook laughs, eyes filling with tears.

“___, my love”, he chokes out, picking you up just so he can dance through the room with you. “Oh baby, I love you. Baby.” 

“Koo, I’m leaking. Please no twirls. It’s going everywhere”, you squeak, trying so hard to clench your pussy. 

“Doesn’t matter. Just leak on me. Oh baby, you make me so happy”, he says and drops on the bed with you. 

He buries you under him, attacking your face with too many kisses to count. He cradles your cheeks for it, making you giggle and squeal because it is so nice to be adored this way. 

“Oh baby, my baby”, he kisses your forehead and cheeks, “I could melt with you”, he pulls your head up to repeatedly kiss your lips. 

Once he stops, you feel butterflies in your tummy and warmth in your chest.

“But how are you? How’s your jaw?” he rubs it gently, “How’s your pussy? I was so rough. Is there anything hurting?” 

You shake your head, “just a little sensitive, but it’s nice.” 

“Yeah? And your tummy?” He rubs it. “I fed you a lot of cum. How are you handling it?”

You place your hand over his’, smiling at him goofily, “I feel like I could do anything.”

“Yes? Oh sweetie”, he nuzzles against your scent spot, “you have no idea how happy I am. I can’t shut up. The way you made me feel, it’s. Wow.” He laughs breathily. “Wow, I never felt this way before. I literally can’t shut up about it. I feel, wow.” He falls to his back and kicks his feet in the air, giggling. “Fuck, I could do anything! Ah!” He exclaims and stretches his limbs from himself in starfish position. 

You giggle, rolling over repeatedly until you are snuggled into his side again. Jungkook flips to his side, closing his arms around you. He purrs, kissing your forehead. Afterwards he just kind of lets the view of you sink in. He traces your temple and ear softly as he gazes into your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful”, he whispers, letting shyness appear in your eyes. “It sucks that I can’t share with everyone how you make me feel when our bodies connect”, he speaks softly.

“I feel like we kinda shared it a little.”

You and Jungkook glance at the window bench. The windows are dirty to the point where the sunlight looks a little milky through it. You look back into each other’s eyes, cracking up at the same time.

You and he giggle like teenagers doing something harmless yet forbidden. 

“I can’t believe that we did that”, he confesses.

“Me neither. Oh my god. Do you think someone saw us?” 

“I lowkey hope someone did and they tell my dad…” He kisses the tip of your nose. “...that his son has the best, most beautiful wife ever. And that he loves her so much.”

“I’m sure that they would also tell him that happiness looks so good on his son and that she loves him too. And that their bond is forever, no matter what anyone says.”

Jungkook’s features soften, “oh baby” he whispers, caressing you under your eye, “you’re just so…” his eyes glimmer in adoration, “... goddamn perfect.” 

You lean into his touch, rubbing his chest mindlessly. He kisses your forehead, nuzzling you into him afterwards. He draws hearts on your back while you melt in his embrace. 

He studies the windows you and he dirtied. The prints of his hands are next to the prints of your tits and the spots where he made your squirt. He feels so proud and giddy. He did that with you. Wow, he will think about this forever. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks in a quiet purr.

“A little. Why?”

“Just making a mental plan on how to spend the rest of our day. Just wanna cook for you and take care of you.” 

“Cooking sounds nice. I’m so sleepy though. I’m sorry it’s suddenly so hard to...talk.”

“No wonder. You’re coming down.”

“You’ll hold me, right?”

“Of course, baby. I’ll hold you. Just relax, I’ll make sure that nothing happens.”

You sigh in relief, growing softer and smaller now that he reassured you that it was safe for you to relax. Omegas rarely can function normally after sex. After basically being high and doing everything to chase pleasure, an omega’s body is spent. Most omegas use what little strength they have to flee to somewhere safe and hide away until it passes. Knowing that you have Jungkook as your protector and safe space to hide in, makes the entire recovery process a moment of healing. You won’t ever have to flee. You have someone safe who will be with you. 

“I love you”, you whisper with your last strength.

“I love you too, my sweetie”, he whispers.

You fall asleep in his arms and Jungkook stays with you for a while until he is sure that you are safely gone in your slumber. He tugs you in as he leaves to shower and begin preparing breakfast.

He wants you to wake up to your favourite dishes being finished and your favourite flowers waiting on your bedside table. And as he cooks, he dances to his favourite music. He hasn’t danced in ages, but being your mate makes him want to do the things he loved doing when his mental health wasn’t terrible. Being your mate makes him want to heal and become happier again. Life isn’t all bad, it really isn’t, Jungkook thinks and sings as he dances. Life isn’t all bad.