#is that... black rope in his hand??

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

"Great..."

or: Dean going through his own version of 'five steps of grief'

[kitteninabunker]

sukuna who fucks you so rough and mean :(

making you spread your own wet pussy open so he can keep drilling himself deep in that sloppy little cunt, the creamy noises of his fat, pulsing dick pounding into your guts do nothing but make him wanna fuck you even harder.

it gave him a wicked sense of superiority to watch you, a little human, struggle to take all of him in your tiny hole, feeling that poor virgin pussy clenched and stretching around his dick past her limits. his thick mushroom tip abuses your cervix with each of his hard and deep strokes as he buries himself to the hilt, making you whine from how sore your body is becoming. the shaft of his lower cock brushes against your clit so slow and torturous, just adding onto the pleasure as your gummy walls flutter around his throbbing cock.

“n—nnnghh! tooo deeeep…” you whimper, your grip on your thighs falters the harder sukuna thrusts his hips, making your soft ass jiggle against his abdomen. in reality you were just a mere human after all, your body wasn’t made to take a huge curse dick, but it’s obvious that sukuna likes to violate the laws of nature. his veiny hands have a nasty grip on your waist, sharp black fingernails digging into your skin so roughly. “this is why i like humans, so small and tight like a real cocksleeve.”

your arousal mixed with sukuna’s precum leaked out of you in thick strings, the white ring of your fluids mixing bubbled at the base of his cock and in his thick bush of salmon-colored pubic hair. “why are you doing this to me?” you asked, your eyes glossy with tears as you curled your lips into your mouth. “we have to make a little curse, sweet thing.” sukuna responds, his painful grip on your waist increasing as he pushes himself deeper in your tummy, the outline of his thick cock budges through it as he squirts warm ropes of cum inside of you.

[nanaslutt]

Passing out in the middle of sex w/ the JJK men

Incl: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Choso

Contains: fem reader, stomach bulge (geto's), rough sex, teasing, dirty talk, fluff, comfort, oral (f!receiving), multiple positions, hair pulling, masturbation, sugar baby!Toji, Virgin!Choso

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Gojo:

"Fuck- take my fucking cock baby, take that shit-" Gojo groaned in your ear, his hands gripping your hair, right against your scalp, as he gave you the meanest fucking backshots, bullying his fat cock into your cunt.

Tears streamed down the sides of your flushed cheeks, soaking into the sheets your face was pressed into. Gojo's body was hunched over yours, his hand pressing into the sheets on the side of your body, giving him the perfect leverage to keep himself up while he fucked you nice and deep.

"Sa-toruuu-" You cried, your moans coming out strangled and choked from the way his cock was assaulting your sweet spot so deep inside you. "What is it? Talk to me, baby." Gojo cooed, sucking in a breath through his teeth when he felt your cunt clench tightly around him as his tip hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

"S-slow down p-pleasee~" You tried to beg, the words spilling from your lips being barely distinguishable from how slurred they were. Gojo giggled, followed by his hand gripping your hair tighter, making your scalp ache. "I dont think I will..." Gojo cooed, pretending to pout when you cried harder in response.

"You were rubbin' all up on me, interrupting my phone call with Nanamin because you wanted my cock so bad. Now you're cryin' about how it's too much?" Gojo said, scrunching his eyebrows at you in faux sympathy. "Nah, you're gonna take it, sorry mama I really am." He finished, emphasizing his words with a harsh thrust into your cunt.

Your hands dug into the pillow you were holding on to for dear life as he sped up his thrusts, rolling his hips just right so he was obliterating your g-spot, making you see stars in your vision. You tried to beg and cry for reprive, but Gojo was not listening at all, his hand shoving your face harder against the pillow instead as he silently told you to shut up and take it.

Gojo's cock always made you see stars and feel dizzy, but something was different this time. Your vision started to trickle more and more with those fuzzy black dots as he fucked you closer and closer to your orgasm, your eyes struggling to stay in their sockets as they rolled back continuously in your head.

"You cumming baby? You just got so much tighter, fuck!" Gojo groaned, his hand letting up on shoving your head down slightly so he could lean back and rub your clit with the hand that was holding you up. The sneaky thing slinking between your legs and rubbing quick circles against your bud caught you off guard, resulting in a loud cry being ripped from your lungs, making Gojo laugh as you spasmed on his cock, your orgasm taking you by surprise as it wracked your body with tremors.

You opened your mouth in a silent cry as you came, and before you knew it, you were out cold. Your arms going limp under the pillow, your eyes rolling back before they shut completely as you blacked out. "F-fuck-" Gojo hadn't noticed that you passed out, only seconds after he felt your cunt spasm around him, he released your head and placed his hand on your ass, gripping the fat as he pulled out of your pussy, his other hand immediately wrapping around his cock, jerking himself off hastily as he groaned through his orgasm, hot ropes of cum landing all over your ass and back, as Gojo decorated your skin so prettily with his seed.

Your body still trembled in your sleep, but your breathing had evened out. If not for Gojo's hand on your ass, you would've fallen on your side completely. "Shiiiiit, so fucking pretty." Gojo laughed through the last shocks of his orgasm, wringing his cock out over your ass as he made sure he painted your skin with every last drop of his cum.

"You're so quiet baby, you alright?" Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side as he tried to get a better look at your face. Usually, you whined or something when he came all over you, the sensation of his cum on your back making your body jolt in surprise--something. "Baby?" He started to get worried, tucking his cock into his sweats quickly he leaned over you, his hand sliding up your body.

The second Gojo wasn't holding you up anymore, you collapsed against the sheets, your chest rising and falling steadily as you slept. "Oh shit, came so hard you passed out?" Gojo smiled softly, scooping your body into his arms effortlessly. Gojo relaxed when your head tipped limply against his naked chest, your breath tickling his skin. "Maybe I did go too hard, sorry baby~" Gojo cooed, kissing your forehead.

"Alright~ Upsiedasiesy~ Let's go get you cleaned up you drama queen." Gojo smiled to himself, lifting you off the bed as he carried you to the bathroom to clean you up all nice so you didn't wake up a sticky mess in the morning. You were already going to beat his ass in the morning for not listening to you when you told him to slow down, it was the least he could do. Satoru listened to you during sex after that. For the most part.

Geto:

Geto had you in the meanest mating press, your legs over his shoulders, body folded over on itself as he leaned his large frame over yours, slowly but roughly fucking his massive cock into your cunt, stretching you out. Geto was obsessed with watching your eyes roll back in your head each time he thrust his dick to the hilt inside you, his ego swelling each time your face scrunched in painful pleasure from the sheer size of him.

"You feel me in there baby? Feel me in 'ur fuckin' stomach?" Geto groaned, his hand sliding between the two of you to press harshly against your stomach, feeling his cock through your pelvis. Your eyes shot open in alarm, the feeling of his cock being ten times more intense as your g-spot was now forced down to meet his cock.

"S-suguru d-dont press there!!" You tried to tell him, your hands around his neck digging into his skin, sure to leave angry red marks all over his back from your nails. "Su-suguuu!!" You cried. Each time he pulled his cock out and fucked it back inside you it felt like your guts were falling out, your body molding around him when he thrust back inside as he made room for his stupidly large cock.

"But it feels so fucking good-" He groaned, pulling his lip between his teeth as he felt his cock thrust inside you from the outside of your body. "Cmon sweet girl, look~" Geto grabbed your arm, pulling it off of his back, your nails scratching his skin in the process as he let up the pressure of his hand on your tummy, placing your hand where his once was before he pressed his over yours, returning the pressure as he made you feel his cock through your skin.

"You feel that? I'm so deep huh?" Geto cooed against your lips, feeling your rapid breaths tickle against them as you basically hyperventilated from how intense it felt. "Y-yes I feel it- fuck!" You whined, your head tipping back into the pillow, your eyes rolling back in your head, your lids following, shutting around them.

Geto kept your hand pressed there as he leaned forward, sucking hickeys into your neck, his hips fucking faster into you when he felt like your pussy was loosened enough. "Ah- ah- ah-" He fucked short, desperate cries from your lungs with each thrust, your fingers tangling in his long hair, gripping against the strands for dear life.

Your legs ached from the position as he pummeled your cunt, giving you deep thrusts as he pulled his cock out almost entirely before thrusting it back into you. "Sugu- It's too deep- too much-" You cried against his ear, your face only flushing redder and redder the longer he fucked into you.

"Shhh, you can take it, just let me give it to you princess, let me fuck you like this." He whispered back, his breath tickling your neck as he spoke, his lips going back to suck against your neck as he disregarded your words. You cried on his cock all the time, complaining about how it was 'too much' but you never meant it, always complaining and asking why he stopped when he actually did slow down, so why would it be any different this time?

"N-no Sugu reallyyy- t-too much-" You tried to whimper out, your eyes squeezing together tightly as the pressure in your stomach became too much. The pleasure was overwhelming, and his weight pressing against you was overbearing, your body couldn't take it anymore. Your jaw dropped in a gasp right before your body went limp, your mind going completely blank as you passed out, mid stroke.

Your hand loosening in his hair and falling limply against the sheets was all he needed to know something wasn't right. Within seconds of you passing out, Geto pulled his head back from your neck to look at your face, noticing how relaxed it was as your head laid to the side against his pillow. He stopped his thrusts completely, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he let your legs fall from his shoulders, his hand caressing your cheek.

"Baby?" Geto spoke, shaking your head softly, your head jostling limply in his hold. He pulled his cock out of you that instant, his thighs straddling your hips as he cradled your face in both of his hands, shaking a little harder as he tried to wake you up. "Cmon pretty, wake up for me." He mumbled to himself, tapping his fingers against your cheek.

He sighed in relief when you stired awake, gaining your consciousness. "There you are." He smiled, his cock still throbbing hard pointing upwards as he crawled off of you, sliding to the side of your body, running his hands over your cheeks. "You passed out on me baby." He explained when you looked at him slightly confused, your face instinctually leaning into his touch.

He lifted your body with ease from under your arms, making you sit on his thighs, facing him. You leaned forward onto his chest, your shaky body absorbing his body heat. "Asshole..." You mumbled into his skin, wrapping your arms under his, your hands resting on his back. His cock twitched when it was pressed against your stomach, but he did his best to ignore it. "I told you it was too much." You chastized, hiding your face in his chest as you blushed in embarrassment, you cant belive you actually just fucking passed out during sex.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't know you were serious." He said, trying to hold back his giggles as he soothingly rubbed his hands over your back. "Asshole, asshole, asshole, asshole." You repeated, one of your hands sliding out from his arm to weakly slap at his naked chest, your blush only growing deeper. You wished you would pass out again to excape how embarrassing this was.

"I know, I know. I'm an asshole." He agreed, pressing his lips together as he looked down at you fondly as you took your anger out on him. He knew you were embarrassed, so if this is what made you feel better so be it. The fact that he was still hard only added to your irritation, your face feeling as hot as the sun as you smacked him harder, "Pervert, pervert, pervert, pervert." You groaned, your chant switching between the two.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it." He laughed, squeezing tightly around your body, pressing your arms flush to his body so you couldn't hit him anymore. You blushed furiously and helplessly against him as your body was restrained by his sheer strength. "Are you okay baby? Seriously." He asked, tipping his head to the side as he looked at you, his hand stroking over your head. "I-I'm fine." You blushed at his sudden demeanor change.

"Good, also I think we might want to establish a safeword from now on." He added, your eyes darting around the room as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. You hummed in agreement, still trying to recover from the massive hit to your pride passing out had done to it.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? I'll run you a bath and make you some tea, okay? Sound good princess?" Geto asked, his large hands running over the expanse of your back, making your body relax against his unconsciously as you nodded against him, feeling your eyelids grow heavy with sleep.

Nanami:

"Mmm..." Nanami moaned against your clit, shaking his head back and forth along your folds while he sucked your clit between his lips, his tongue flicking against it in his mouth. "Fff-uck!!" You cried, your thighs squeezing around his head as he ate you out like a man starved.

Your hands dug into his hair tightly, your nails raking against his scalp to ground yourself, Nanami's long fingers curled right against your sweet spot inside you, his quick thrusts only adding to the already loud squelching coming from between your legs, making the tips of your ears turn red in embarrassment. You fought your head to stay down, looking at Nanami, you didn't want to miss the sight of your gorgeous husband eating you out.

It's not like it was a rare occurrence, Nanami ate you out every single time before the two of you had sex, but it was a sight to behold every single time. You never got tired of the sight of his lidded eyes staring at yours, the entire half of his lower face covered in your slick, his usually uniform hair being strewn in every direction as you ruffled the strands, your hands pushing his bangs out of his face to get a better view of him.

One of Nanami's hands was pressed between his body and the bedsheets as he jerked himself off while he ate you out, unable to ignore the throbbing pleasure in his cock he got from tasting you. He stroked his cock to the pace of his fingers inside you, trying to mimic the way your cunt felt around him.

"Oh fuck- Nanami right there-" You moaned, your jaw dropping in a small o when he sucked your clit just right, his fingers stabbing into your spot simultaneously, causing the most delicious pleasure to wrack through your body. Your back arched as you pressed Nanami's head agaisnt your pussy, keeping him in that exact spot that had you seeing stars. "Fuck don't stop- k-keep sucking my clit I'm gonna cum-" You gasped, your words coming out breathily as you threw your head back, your eyes screwed shut from the pleasure.

Nanami groaned into your folds, his hand jerking faster over his cock when he felt your cunt pulse faster around his fingers. "Nggghhhh-" You whined as the pleasure took over your body, your thighs snapping shut around your husbands head as he continued to suck your clit into his mouth, his fingers fucking into you as he worked your though your orgasm.

Your body jerked forward, hands digging into his hair as you cried out his name as you felt your release squirt into his mouth. Nanami drank up all of you hungrily, his tongue lapping at the base of his fingers when you started to come down from your high, his adam's apple bobbing as he greedily swallowed up all of your cum.

"Good girl, good fucking girl." Nanami groaned against your clit, his voice coming out hoarse. You whined as his fingers continued thrusting inside of you, his hand still jerking quickly over his cock. You thought he was going to stop after you came, but you quickly realized after trying to push his head away to no avail, that that was not the case. Nanami was in one of his moods, and he was not done eating your pussy quite yet.

"Fuck- Ken waitttt- It's sensitive Kento-" You cried, your hands pushing at his head harder, trying to get him to let up. His hand that was jerking himself off shot out from under him to grab at both of your wrists, pushing them off of his head as he gripped them over your pelvis, his eyes shooting daggers at you.

You whined, your body thrashing and jerking in oversensitivity as he kept fucking you, continuing the same rough pace as before, your poor clit being assaulted by his ruthless tongue as he battered at it. "Oh g-oddd-" You groaned, your face scrunched in the overwhelming pleasure as he fucked you quickly towards another orgasm.

You thought the black dots that started to speckle your vision were because of your impending orgasm, but you would be sorely mistaken. Your entire body tensed before it relaxed against the sheets, your head fell back against the pillow, your hands loosened in Nanami's hair, and your thighs relaxed with the rest of your body as you fell unconcious.

Nanami's eyes were screwed shut as he shook his head back and forth, but they peeled open when he noticed how your body relaxed at once. He was met with your peaceful-looking face as your body laid slack agaisnt the sheets. He quickly raised from between your thighs, wiping your cum from his mouth with the back of his hand he reached over you and caressed your face, calling your name repeatedly.

It didn't take much for you to come to, you were only out for maybe a total of thirty seconds. You awoke to Nanami's body hovering over yours, his flushed face staring at yours with concern. "Hey there." He smiled when you fully opened your eyes. The first thing you noticed was how sore you felt between your legs, your face scrunching in discomfort.

"I'm sorry, that was too much wasn't it?" Nanami immediately apologized, his face softening as he caressed your sleepy-looking face. "I- I didn't know I was going to pass out, I'm sorry." You replied, looking away from his gaze. Sure, it did feel intense, but nothing more than you haven't felt before.

"Don't apologize sweet thing, it was my fault, I should be more careful. I got carried away." Nanami said honestly. Your shaky hands reached up to wrap around his neck, pulling his face down to meet your own. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, full of love and compassion, before you pulled away, looking at him with a red face.

"I'm okay, It's alright Ken." You reassured, rubbing your fingers over his undercut, making him practically purr. He sighed in relief before his body was pressing against yours, his arms wrapping under your body. "You had me worried. Never passed out on me before." Nanami spoke into the crook of your neck, pressing light kisses into the skin there.

You giggled, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck, keeping him tightly against you. "Kento." You spoke after a couple seconds, making him hum into your neck. "You're really hard. I can feel it on my leg." You whispered, blushing at your own words. Nanami cleared his throat before he spoke, his head pulling up from your neck to look at your face, "Ah, sorry. Ignore that, I'll go take care of it." He said, the tips of his ears turning red.

You pulled him back down towards you when he tried to get up to take care of his little problem. "That's not what I meant." You said, looking into his eyes while you bit your lip. "I uh... I'm up to keep going if you want. You haven't even put it in yet." You said, running your fingers up the back of his head, sending goosebumps down his spine.

"I don't know if that's a good idea..." Nanami said softly, trying to ignore how hard his cock twitched in his sweats at the proposition. "Ken I'm okay I promise. Please? I want you inside me." You whispered, wrapping your legs around his hips. Those words were all he needed to hear. Looking between your bodies before he pressed his clothed cock agaisnt your cunt, he looked back up at you before he spoke, "Are you sure?"

You humped your hips up to meet his as you nodded, "I'm sure, please." You said once more, moaning softly when his tip bumped against your sensitive clit. With a sigh, Nanami leaned forward, hovering his lips right above yours, "Alright... I'll be careful."

Toji: cw: toji keeps going after you pass out, breeding kink

"Dirty fuckin' girl, pussy is fuckin' swallowing up my cock," Toji growled, yanking your hips back to meet his, his heavy balls slapping against your clit roughly, making you whine in painful pleasure. You arched your back, throwing your ass against him to meet his thrusts, your hands against the sheets holding yourself up giving you the perfect leverage to fuck yourself on his cock.

"Fuck Toji- Harder- give it to me harder-" You begged, biting your lip as your eyes crossed at his cock pounding against your g-spot, his fat tip absolutely obliterating it. "Anything for my favorite client~" Toji groaned, smirking at your shameless show of your need for him, his hips pulling back further as he fucked all 8 inches into you faster, pulling out to the tip before he bullied it back inside you.

"Ohmygoddd-" You whined, your cunt gushing around him as he fucked you just how you liked, his hands sneaking under your body to rub at your clit, adding to your pleasure. "How's that feel mama? Am I giving it to you good? You like when I fuck you hard like this?" Toji cooed, groaning through his words. You fucking loved how filthy his mouth was.

Toji wasn't quiet outside of the bedroom, but he wasn't exactly a man of many words. During sex, however--this beast of a man got pussy drunk on you quick every single time, the feeling of your familiar tight, wet walls around him never failing to make his lips loose, filth spilling from his lips without a second thought the second they popped into his fucked out head.

"Yes T-toji, feels so good- you're s-so deep-" You whined back, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes. Toji groaned at your words, his finger rubbing faster across your clit, his movements becoming sloppy as your words worked him up to no end. Toji would never admit it out loud, but he had a major praise kink. He could feel his cock leak pre-cum every time you told him how good his cock felt inside you.

"Yeah, pretty girl? Feels that good? You fucking love this dick huh?" He babbled, sucking air in through his teeth when you clenched around him. "Yes Tojiiii, love it so much- fucking love your dick- g'na make me cum-" You cried, your words coming out slurred. Toji loved how easy it was to make you cum, your body was so sensitive to his every touch it drove him up the fucking walls.

"Good girl, this fucking dick loves you too." Toji laughed through a groan. "'M gonna cum with you pretty girl, where do you want it, hm? Where do you want my c-cum? he added, feeling his cock twitch inside your cunt with his impending release.

"I-Inside inside please- cum inside me-" You babbled, the upper half of your body falling against the sheets as your arms gave out. Toji's body chased yours, his hands planting on the sides of your body on the bed as he humped his cock into you, his fingers not letting up on your clit as he rubbed small quick circles into the little bud.

You felt so dizzy with his cologne filling up your nose with his proximity. He hooked his fingers into your already open mouth as he gave you hard, deep thrusts, fucking you both toward your orgasms. "Yeah? Want me to fill you up? Cum deep inside your tight little cunt?" Toji groaned against the shell of your ear. "Might knock you up, bet you'd like that though huh? Bet it makes you feel all hot jus' thinkin' about it, can feel your pussy tryna' milk my cock right now." He babbled.

You didnt even have time to respond before you were gasping agaisnt his fingers, your eyes rolling back in your head as his cock fucked your orgasm out of you, his hips rolling into your ass, the tip of his cock massaging against your sweet spot so perfectly, making your eyes roll back in your head. "Oh shit- so fucking tight-" Toji groaned as you came around him, your pussy spasming around him.

You severely underestimated how hard your orgasm was. Barely three seconds into it and you were blacking out, your arch falling as you fell limply against the sheets, Toji's hips chasing yours as he continued fucking into you with reckless abandon. "Oh shit, did'ya pass out, pretty?" Toji groaned, his hands pressing into the sheets next to your body as he continued humping into your warm cunt, his eyes taking in the sight of your relaxed face.

"Shit-" Toji laughed, feeling a whole new wave of arousal wracks through him, "You don't mind if I finish right? 'M so fucking close~" He cooed at you as you breathed steadily against the sheets, your cunt still sucking him in as tightly as it was while you were awake. Toji smirked as he picked up his pace, his cock pistoning in and out of you with loud squelches. "Yeah, you don't mind. Such a good girl for me, always so fucking good." He praised, feeling himself on the edge.

"Fuck- I'm cumming princess, gonna fill you up just how you w-wanted. Sorry, you're not awake to f-feel it. There's gonna be so fucking much." He babbled, his hips losing their rhythm inside you right before he came. Your body jostled limply as he used your cunt to get himself off, his hips stilling agaisnt your ass as he shot rope after rope of his hot cum inside you, groaning loudly through his teeth as he did so.

"Yeah take that fucking load- goddd. Suck me so good even when you're out. Heh." he huffed out a laugh as he rolled his hips agaisnt your ass, making sure he gave you every last drop of his cum. He let himself relish in the feeling of your warm walls spasming around him for a few seconds longer before he pulled out, his cum chasing his cock as it dripped out of your tight hole, dribbling down your pussy.

Sitting back on his heels, he scooped his cum up with his fingers before he shoved them inside you, making sure his cum stayed nice and deep in your pussy. "Guess I gotta wake you up now, huh?" Toji said to himself, his eyes taking in how peaceful you looked. "Time to get up sleeping beauty. Daddy needs his payment." He said half joking as he crawled up your body and slapped your cheek softly before following it up with a gently rub, trying to wake you up.

Sukuna: cw: heian era true form sukuna, monsterfucking, rough sex, cervix fucking, degradation, stomach bulge, misogyny if you squint, squirting, semi-soft Sukuna at the end

"That's the best you can do? Your reputation does not precede you, I thought you could take cock with no problem, hm? Should I have chosen someone else?" Sukuna teased, pouting as you struggled to ride his massive cock, your hands jerking his second cock in tandem as you tried to bounce on the other.

Sukuna had never picked up a girl from a whorehouse before, but with your reputation running rampant across the village he resided in about how well you supposedly took cock, he decided to give it a shot. He was only teasing when he said he should've chosen someone else. You were easy on the eyes, and he would be lying if he said he didn't love watching a pretty girl struggle on his cock.

Usually, he would be fed up with this slow, weak pace, but he was in no rush today, so he decided to have a little fun with you. "I've n-never taken someone as big as you m-my lord." You whined, your hands squeezing around his tip harder when his cock hit your cervix painfully as you sat down on it.

"No? Is that why you're being such a crybaby?" He asked, tilting his head at you as he watched fat tears roll down your rosy cheeks, mixing with the sweat beading on your neck. His eyes watched how your tits bounced as you rode him, only taking in about half of his cock as the whole thing proved to be too painful.

"Fuckkk-" You groaned, ignoring his words as you tried to focus on taking his cock the best you could. Sukuna sat back agaisnt his throne, two inhuman arms spread over the armrests on his throne, two placed on your thighs, his long nails digging into your thighs as you rode him.

The slow pace was annoying, sure, but it was doing something for him to watch your face twist in painful pleasure as you fucked him. "L-lord Sukuna, P-please, a little help please-" You whined, feeling your legs start to ache from riding him for so long, your stomach starting to cramp from how deep he was inside you.

"How shameless." He tsked, "We just met, you fuck me at the pace of a snail, and now you dare to ask me for help? What terrible manners." He chastised before his strong hands pulled you down against him completely, his cock fucking into your cunt as deep as it could go, his tip knocking painfully against your cervix.

You cried out in pain, the sound sending blood rushing to his cock, a sinister smile spreading across his face as he watched you writhe on top of him, your hands leaving his second cock to press over the bulge in your tummy, your jaw dropped in awe. "It's deep huh? I can see it poking through your skin." Sukuna growled before his hands slit to your waist and used the leverage he had there to fuck you on his cock like his own personal cocksleve.

"S-sukunaa!! L-ord Sukuna p-please! It's too much!" You cried, your hands grabbing his thick wrists as he fucked you at an inhuman pace--fitting. Sukuna looked at you almost disgusted, confused, you couldn't tell through the tears blurring your vision. "What a selfish girl." He growls. "I thought you wanted help? But now it's too much? Make up your mind, dumb woman."

You could do nothing but cry and scream as he impaled you on his cock. You've never felt anything like how you were feeling right now, it was so intense. You swore the second you walked out of here, you were going to go straight to the infirmary to check if he had punctured your stomach open, because it sure as hell felt like it.

"And now she can't even talk, how pathetic." Sukuna tsked, looking at you with a face full of disappointment. You could barely register the small sinister smirk spreading across his face before you felt the reason for his demeanor change on your body. Looking down you saw a mouth the size of a small child had manifested on his stomach, and a thick tongue was poking out between the lips to lick at your pussy.

"H-huh!?" You yelped in surprise when the tongue battered harshly against you, sending sparks through your tummy. "Surely you'll be able to move your hips now, hm? This spot here makes women so sensitive." Sukuna cooed, watching how the tongue on his stomach emphasized his words by trying to focus on your clit. The attempt proved to be a little difficult from the size difference of your small clit to his tongue, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself nonetheless.

"Wait- w-wait please p-lease wait-" you cried, the feeling of his tongue quickly becoming overwhelming. The cock not inside you was dripping pre-cum all over the outside of your tummy, the appendage having a strong curve as his tip was being rubbed against your skin. Before Sukuna could spew more mean words, a clear liquid was being sprayed across his abdomen, making his eyes open in surprise.

Sukuna had never seen anything like it before. The liquid dripped down his cock, and all over his abdomen, some of it even landing on the stomach mouth as he lapped it up greedily, tasting the liquid. While Sukuna was still taking in this new sight, your body collapsed limply against his chest, his hands freezing in place as he looked down at your smaller frame agaisnt him, breathing peacefully unconscious as if you weren't currently tending to him.

"You're kidding me," Sukuna growled, the prominent vein in his forehead popping out as he ran his hand through his hair, sighing at the current predicament. "Human women are so weak." He sighed, continuing to rake his eyes over your frame as you slept without a care in the world against him. "I have no interest in fooling around with a sleeping person. So boring." He said, his lip raising in untinerest.

His cock was still hard inside of you, his mind still replaying what had happened moments before you passed out so selfishly. How could you expose him to something like that then pass out? He wanted to see it again. His eyes studied your face, and after some time he found himself thinking you looked almost cute.

He didn't recognize the feeling, chalking it up to amusement as one of his large hands rested on your lower back. his eyes finally looking away from your frame as he looked around the empty room around him. "You better wake up soon, girl. I'm not done with you." Sukuna growled, relaxing against his throne as he waited for his little plaything to awaken.

Choso:

"Fuck- oh god this feels so good-" Choso cried, humping his big cock desperately and sloppily inside your cunt. Choso was a virgin prior to your interaction now, and you had somehow convinced him to let you take his virginity from him. You had always been attracted to the half-curse, so you thought this was a brilliant idea.

What you hadn't accounted for, was the possibility that this innocent man had a horse cock between his thighs. Choso had thought there was something wrong with his equipment when you stared at his cock like it was something foreign after he pulled it out of his pants. "I-is there something wrong?" He had asked insecurely.

Your eyes merely dragged up to meet his eyes slowly, the awestruck look still on your face, your jaw dropped in a small o shape as you stared at him incredulously. When you told him his cock was the biggest you'd ever seen, he looked almost confused, proceeding to ask you if that was a good thing. Choso clearly had no idea how big he was, and he definitely had no idea how to use it.

He was so oblivious to how much damage his dick was currently doing to your pussy. You briefly taught him how to stretch you out on his fingers, but even as thick as they were--they did little to prepare you for the girth and length of his cock. You bit your bottom lip as you tried to conceal your moans, trying your best to instruct Choso how to fuck you correctly.

His reckless, sloppy thrusting did feel good nonetheless, but you knew with a cock his size--that it could feel even better if he fucked you with some sort of a technique. "C-choso- a-aim your hips up when you t-thrust inside me," You whined, your hands reaching down to grab his hips and pull them towards you, trying to give him some direction. "L-like this?" Choso asked, thrusting into you at a new angle, the tip of his cock pistoning straight into your sweet spot.

You sighed out in sweet relief at how good it felt. "Yes~ Fuck yes, right there Choso, keep fucking me right there, just like t-that," You praised, your eyes rolling back in your head as it fell back against the pillow. You allowed Choso to have his way with your body as your relaxed against the sheets.

It was a smart move on your end to suck Choso off and make him cum once before he fucked you, he was lasting longer than you thought he would for a virgin. "God- It's so tight. Is it always this tight?" He asked, staring between where the two of you were connected, beads of sweat rolling down the sides of his face.

"Mhmm- y-yeah." You answered, only half listening to his question as he fucked you just right, his fat cock hitting all the right spots inside you. "It's so warm too... I love this, I love fucking you like this. I- I don't want this to end." He babbled honestly, quickly becoming pussy drunk as his eyes searched for yours. You looked down at him, meeting his desperate, puppy-like gaze.

Smiling at his sweet face, you placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him towards you, your lips grazing against his. "Me neither Choso, keep fucking me. Your cock feels s-so good inside me." You whispered against his lips, resulting in a whine from the dark-haired man before you pressed your lips to his, swallowing up all his gasps and whines.

He kissed you sloppily, but his beginner technique felt good as he tried to copy you, licking into your mouth, and tangling his tongue with yours. "This feels good," He pulled away to moan aginst your lips before leaning back in to continue making out with you.

His honesty made you hot all over, you don't think you've ever been with a guy as verbal and sweet as Choso. "So good Cho, you're doing so good." You groaned against his lips, seeing stars behind your eyes each time he fucked his cock inside you.

He pulled back from the kiss as he placed leaned back on his heels, pulling your thighs over his as he fucked into you in the new position. This position allowed his cock to fuck straight into your g-spot, making you cry out loudly for him. "Holy fuck-" You groaned, your eyes rolling back in your head at how intense it felt.

Choso groaned at your response, his face heating up at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him tighter at this new angle. While the curse took in how your body moved and bounced under him, his eyes latched onto a small pearl-looking thing right above the hole he was fucking into, the bead being covered slightly with a flap of skin.

The sudden urge to touch it came over him as he reached out for it, "Can I touch right here?" He asked. Before you were able to look down at what he was referring to, you felt his thumb on your clit, the pad of it rubbing along the nub with pinpoint accuracy. The added sensation of him touching your clit made you scream out for him.

The fact that this half-curse had manifested less than a year ago, was currently losing his virginity, and had found your clit with such ease, better than most people you've had who weren't virgins and had been alive for however many years-- sent you spiraling. "Fuck Cho w-wait-" You tried to warn him it was too much, but it was too late.

Your vision went blurry and your head spun as little black dots clouded your vision before you blacked out, falling unconscious in the middle of him fucking into you and harshly rubbing at your clit. "H-huh?" Choso stopped moving when he looked down and noticed your limp body. He called out you name, and to no avail, not even a twitch of response from your out-cold body.

He stayed inside of you, frozen in place as he tried to think of what to do. "A-are you okay?" He asked, his hand shaking the side of your body gently, your body jiggling with his touch. "I don't know what to do..." He mumbled, looking around the room like the walls would come to life and give him guidance.

"Hey, you okay?" He repeated again, leaning over your body to shake your face, his cock still snug inside you. You winced and groaned as you came to, your eyes cracking open once more. You were met with Choso smiling softly at you, looking relieved. "You fell asleep. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. Are you okay?" He asked, keeping his hand on your face, rubbing the sweat from your skin.

"Fuck... Choso I'm sorry, I bet I scared you huh?" You said apologetically, your hand cupping over his as you rubbed the back of his hand. Choso pouted before he responded, "Don't be sorry, I was a little startled, but I think that was my fault." He said, a light blush dusting across his cheeks. "Does that normally happen?" He asked, tipping his head at you.

You laughed, your hand caressing down his arm. "Not usually no, it's definitely never happened to me before, you're dick is just too good Cho." You giggled, watching how embarrassed he got when you said that. "I-I don't know." He said, looking away from your face in embarrassment--he really was oblivious.

"No?" You teased, purposefully squeezing your cunt around his cock, making him hiss at the sensation, his eyes fluttering shut. "Why don't you fuck me some more, hm? I'll tell you all about how good your cock makes me feel." You whisper teasingly, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek, pushing his stray hair away from his face.

"Is that okay?" He asked hesitantly, "What if you pass out again?" Choso swallowed all the saliva in his dry mouth, feeling himself throb inside your walls. He really did want to keep going, but he was afraid of you passing out again. "It's okay, just take it easy, and maybe don't touch my clit for now." You added, laughing, making him blush as he nodded in understanding.

[psuejo]

❥ ceo!nanami who was never really into porn, not until you

sequel!

it’s not that he’s some raging virgin who’s never watched it. he’s a man — of course he has. but something about a lot of the videos rubs him the wrong way. maybe they’re too fake or have weird titles or overused tropes, like there’s a disconnect, one most ignore.

but for kento, it’s a complete turn-off. so, he doesn’t watch it, just uses his imagination and fucks his fist the traditional way. #realman!

that is, until he stumbles upon a clip of you reposted to twitter. no face, but that’s fine — he can see all that he needs to see: your trembling hand grips the flared base, flesh-toned dildo pumping in and out of your slick cunt.

your moans are soft, sweet, like you’re a little camera-shy, despite the steady flow of donations and the rapid-fire messages flooding the on-screen chat. they love you.

hell, he loves you, too.

for three nights straight, kento jerks off to that one minute clip, the black of his pupils practically engulfing the chocolate brown of his eyes as he watches you cum again, thick thighs squeezing together as you shudder and gasp.

tonight, though, he’s determined to attend one of your streams, glass of wine on his nightstand along with a bottle of lube.

god, he feels like a hormonal teenager again. he hasn’t jerked off this much in months, too swamped with work and other responsibilities to even allow himself a modicum of free time.

now, however? now kento is at it again, saliva pooling in his mouth as he watches you twist and writhe thanks to his generous donation while he pumps his rock-hard cock.

☆ $150 dono from @anonworkaholic: buy a new air fryer.

that vibrator is on max, the buzz loud enough to be caught clearly on camera along with the barely subtle squelches of your pussy, delicate folds glistening in the low, warm light of what he thinks is your bedroom.

kento is definitely above this — above donating money to a girl he doesn’t know, above furiously stroking his twitching, lubricated dick like some prepubescent, above being a part of the low-lives drooling over you in chat. he should stop. he should close the stream right now, finish rubbing one out in the shower, and then go to bed.

all that practically catapults itself out the window when you whimper out his weak username, a brief smile on your face before your maw goes slack again for another long moan.

no.

no, he is not above this, actually. he times his orgasm with yours, pearly whites sinking into his bottom lip as he tugs on that sensitive pink tip, waiting for your stuttered countdown to finish.

“o-one—!”

and when you cum, loud and wanton, back arching and pussy squirting, kento is right behind you, emptying his balls in stringy ropes of white all over his stomach.

...

nanami kento has hit a new low. he closes out the stream, ears burning and pink with shame, downs the rest of his wine, and takes a long, cold shower. he is never doing that again. ever.

but, a few nights later, he does it again. and again. anddd again, until, eventually, kento is deemed a vip regular, username now gold in chat with a special badge beside it.

this is the lowest of lows.

god, his employees and investors would kill him if they knew this is what he spent his excess money on a camgirl like some parasocial bum. especially his pretty little assistant.

now that he’s thinking about it, you and his assistant look alike. both gorgeous with similar face and body shapes, but not quite.

huh.

what a cruel coincidence, right?

[monstersholygrail]

Your Dragon husband remains knowing little to nothing about human anatomy, even after all this time of being with you. No matter how many times you try and explain it, it just doesn’t seem to get into his thick skull!

So maybe that’s why you aren’t too surprised as your husband ruts furiously inside your hot cunt like he can’t get deep enough inside of you. His big body curled around you protectively while he fucks into you from behind when suddenly a small pout forms on his face.

You watch him curiously as he stretches two fingers all the way up your torso, measuring the length of your tummy till he stops and a bigger pout forms on his face.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You ask breathlessly, your words broken by your constant moans.

Your Dragon husband growls under his breath and begins kneading at your soft flesh, feeling for his bulge that sticks out from your stomach and proves just how deep he is inside of you. Your skin burns as hot as his fire and you want him deeper. Harder.

As if he can read your mind he starts plowing into you like a dragon possessed. His long tail wraps around you and helps him slam his length as deep as he can reach. It has your toes curling and your eyes crossing.

“How can my seed possibly take root if my cock is taking up all the room inside your walls?” He snarls, fucking into you furiously as if trying to prove his point. You cry out, back arching into him.

His words register through the fog of lust in your head and you almost want to laugh. But then his throbbing angry tip is kissing your cervix and forcing all thoughts from your head.

“T-trust, nnngh!, trust me. Getting in as deep as you are, it’s mmph— gotta take,” you mewl, eyes crossing with the pleasure that washes over you as his cock bullies it’s way deep along your walls.

Your Dragon husband raises a brow at you. His hand unintentionally pressing down harder on his bulge and making your vision flash white with ecstasy. His cock stuffing you so full you feel like you’re about to burst.

“We cannot— ah fuck!— know for certain. So I will, hmm, just have to keep pumping you full of my seed. If any dares to drip out I will simply fill you again,” he snarls, claws pinching at your skin and making you even more unbearably sensitive than before.

Your eyes widen in slight fear of going that long. He may actually break you. But your pussy flutters as if begging for even more of his cum. And as your husband presses down your lower once again, your vision flashes black as you nearly pass out from the intensity of your orgasm.

With a fierce scream you cum all over your husband’s massive cock. He throws his head back in a fiery roar, literally, and slams back into you one more time as he follows suit. Getting in as deep inside you as possible as he releases spurt after spurt of thick hot ropes of cum.

Working you both through your highs he grinds himself against you, acting like a plug. His scales rub at your clit perfectly and send little shocks down your spine. But as your husband glances down between you he curses under his smokey breath.

“Good heavens! Some has already leaked and created a ring around my cock… it seems we will have to go again,” Dragon Husband rasps, his voice practically a growl again. A glint passes his eye that makes you think he meant to do it.

And suddenly you’re wondering if he knows more about human anatomy than you thought…

This is for my collab for the Monster Championship final w/ @monstersflashlight :)

[bluerosefox]

Protecting Family

Hmmm

I'm on a Danny is Dick's child kick rn so I'm making more.

But lets add in some Ghost King Danny!, Dad to a deaged Ellie and Dan! And toddler Mar'i Grayson.

Danny was conceived during Dick's amnesia year when he was Ric and the woman couldn't find him to tell him (or maybe the Owls caught wind of the pregnancy and took her) and he ended up somehow (hmmm maybe a meddling time keeper?) with the Fentons.

Danny grows as a Fenton, he knows he was adopted btw, then becomes Phantom, protects Amity, becomes the Ghost King and things seem to be going okay between Amity Parkers and the Infinite Realms since they took care of the GIW problem, AND has been a good doting teen dad to his deaged 'cousins/clones' turned kids.

Danny was going to go pick his kids up from daycare one day when CHAOS happens. Just as he wrangles Ellie onto his shoulders, cause she wants to be tall today, and about to take Dan's hand cause he's and I quote "A big boy and not a baby like Ellie, Dad!" he suddenly feels the tug of his family being in danger.

Thing is, its a blood related danger. Meaning someone blood related to him was in grave danger, and by the emotions he can feel, its someone young, way younger than him.

Problem.

The only people Danny knows with his blood in their veins and are young enough for the feeling are with him.

So who?

But due to Danny being a protector spirit AND knowing the feeling is from someone as young as his own kids, Danny decides to use his Ghost King Powers to summon said person from the danger to him.

Danny opens his free arms out just as a tiny toddler with black hair like his own but with bright green eyes, even the sclera were green, in a ruined party dress drops from the sky from the summoning circle that had opened above him.

Danny stares at the terrified child, whose hands are tied by rope and was crying, and takes notes of certain traits she had that he saw every time in the mirror or on his own kids, same eye shape and cheekbones. He can tell his ghost core has claimed her as family but not as his kid though.

No the connection that formed was almost like his connection with Jazz but a bit stronger.

This kid, was his sister. His blood related one.

-Meanwhile-

Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing, and his family were freaking the fuck out.

Dick was already panicked when his daughter Mar'i had gotten kidnapped just a few hours ago by the Joker.

Now he was feeling pure dread when his daughter, who was about to be killed, was suddenly pulled into a strange glowing circle at the last minute and disappeared into thin air.

[gumii-bearr]

❝ you hitting on me? ❞

summary: megumi doesn't like clubs, but then he sees you.

featuring… megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, alt!megumi, piercings and tattoos, reader is a babe fr, pet names, car sex, rough sex, fingering, riding, dick piercing (what who said that??), teasing, edging, choking, crying (omg), spanking (a lil bit), unprotected sex (don’t do that!!!!!), bit of subspace??, alcohol mentioned, smoking mentioned (don’t smoke, it’s bad for you!), vaping mentioned, these two are so horny for each other like wtf

author’s note: this was a request by a lovely anon!!! ... also its 4k words

Megumi doesn’t like going out. It’s not his thing, really. He prefers to stay at home to play video games or be his own company, and if he has to be social he prefers a more intimate get together over… whatever the hell Yuji is dragging him along too. 

“Trust, it’ll be fun,” Yuji nudges Megumi’s shoulder lightly. Megumi keeps his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black hoodie, a resting annoyed expression plastered across his face. He’s not sure how Yuji roped him into coming to this gig, maybe it was because Megumi kind of owed Yuji for turning down hanging out with him for the past… many times. 

Megumi doesn’t respond, just wordlessly follows behind Yuji as he weaves through groups of people socialising, vaping and drinking outside the bar Megumi was conned into coming to.

Yuji mentioned something about his friend’s band playing at this bar tonight and there may have been mentions of meeting up with Nobara but Megumi kind of tuned him out after he started going on and on about how Megumi was being anti-social and bringing up the numerous times he cancelled on Yuji (it was a ploy to make him feel bad and it unfortunately worked).

The moment they walk down the graffitied hallway, Megumi is again reminded why he doesn’t like going out. The bar is packed with drunk people and it smells of alcohol and sweat. Megumi inwardly cringes at the whole atmosphere and nearly, nearly, spins on his heel and leaves when some drunk girl bumps into Megumi while giggling and slightly dry heaving.

Before Megumi can even make a comment, Yuji is grabbing his arm, “don’t be a party-pooper, Fushiguro, we haven’t even seen Nobara yet!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Megumi deadpans.

“Yeah, but your face said it all,” Yuji retorts, “come on!” Yuji tugs on his friend’s arm, dragging his friend toward the loud thumping music.

His head hurts already. The music is loud and the random LED lights flying over the crowd are bright and annoying. Megumi is annoyed, to be fair, he’s always slightly annoyed but right now it’s increased tenfold by the overstimulating nightmare that is this club.

Megumi doesn’t even know where Yuji is going. Yuji is staring at his phone, then looking around, then back at his phone again. He’s talking to Megumi but the music is so loud that Megumi doesn’t know what the hell he’s saying. 

“There she is!” okay, he caught that.

Yuji walks a little faster, Megumi attempting to weave through the crowd of people without touching anyone (it’s not working, he’s very uncomfortable). The crowd seems to dissipate as they reach the back of the club by the bar, numerous tables dotting the back wall. Megumi spots Nobara as she leaps up from the table, waving her arm around obnoxiously.

“Itadori!” she’s yelling and if Megumi knows anything about Nobara, it’s that her voice really carries. “Fushiguro!”

Megumi raises his hand from his pocket as a slight wave, his lips forming a tight line. Nobara is already shoving a drink into Yuji’s hand then reaching over to give one to Megumi, “dunno what it is but it’s getting me drunk!”

Megumi tunes out whatever Nobara is saying the moment he sees you. 

You’re chuckling as you watch Nobara and Yuji feed off of each other’s excitement. You’re holding a drink in your hand, absentmindedly swirling the ice around with your straw. 

You’re also trying to remain super nonchalant at the fact you’re totally checking out Yuji’s friend.

He looks completely uninterested in what’s happening, his tired eyes glancing at anything other than the social situation in front of him. His hair is messy and framing his gorgeous face. His hoodie sleeves are rolled up and your eyes trace down his veiny arms adorned with pretty tattoos all the way to his hands. He’s got a couple of nose piercings and an eyebrow piercing, his whole vibe is dark and brooding and you’re so into it.

Where the fuck has this cutie been?

“Y/N, this is my friend Fushiguro,” you sit up a little straighter at the mention of your name. Nobara tugs on Megumi’s arm bringing him closer to the bar table, “say hi, you emo bitch.”

Megumi eyes you and you have no idea what he’s thinking. “Uh, hey,” he says awkwardly. Oh god, he’s a dork. You must have him.

He’s remaining as poker-faced as possible as his eyes glance over you, from the fishnet stocking adorning your legs to the subtle colour of your glossed lips. You’re smiling at him softly through mascaraed lashes and he finds himself peeking down at your lips.

Megumi thinks you’re really pretty.

He mostly just listens as you, Nobara and Yuji talk about college and work, opting for tapping his finger against the glass in front of him. He likes the way you talk, hand gestures accompanying your enthusiastic ramble about your college degree. He also likes the way you laugh, though he finds himself becoming slightly annoyed by the fact that Yuji’s the one making you laugh. 

He decides he needs a smoke, his head is pounding from the loud music and the flashing lights; he needs a break.

Megumi gets up from his seat, nudging Yuji’s arm, “‘m just going out for a smoke.”

Yuji waves him off and Megumi sets off toward the smoking area outside the bar. It’s colder outside but god, it’s so much quieter, just the bustling of cars down the street and the occasional police siren. He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, flicking his lighter and holding it to the end until the smoke fills his mouth. 

He leans against the wall, cigarette perched between his lips as he scrolls on his phone. He debates it for a while, but eventually gives in and searches your name up on instagram. He finds your account, noticing you’re already friends with Itadori. He scrolls through your posts, feeling like a fucking teenager stalking your social media–

“Fuck.”

Megumi’s eyes snap to you, now with an oversized leather jacket pulled around your shoulders as you rifle through your purse. There’s an unlit cigarette pressed between your glossy lips and your brows are furrowed.

Megumi fishes his lighter back out of his pocket, he walks over to you and nudges your arm, holding the lighter out for you.

You look up at him with your pretty eyes, a smile pulling at your lips, “thanks, Fushiguro.”

You take the lighter from his hand, attempting to flick the lighter to life to light your cigarette. You try a couple more times before Megumi chuckles softly, taking it from your smaller hands and lighting it the first try.

He wordlessly cups the end of your cigarette, shielding it from the wind as he lights your cigarette for you, his darker eyes flickering up to yours briefly. 

The two of you stand in silence for a moment before you speak.

“I like your tattoos,” you say sweetly.

“Hm?”

“Your tattoos, they’re cool,” you repeat with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, thank you,” Megumi replies, absentmindedly running a hand along his inked arm. He feels his heart race a little when you reach a manicured hand out and run your finger along the dragon twisting around his forearm.

“Nobara told me you weren’t much of a talker,” you say, your smaller hand still fiddling with his larger more angular hands as you admire his tattoos. It’s strangely intimate of you to touch him in such a way.

“You talked about me?” Megumi teases, taking another drag from his cigarette with a smirk tugging at his lips.

“All good things, don’t worry,” you retort, finally letting go of his arm to bring your cigarette back up to your lips.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

“Trying to quit, just smoke when I drink,” you shrug. You sigh then turn your head to face him, you look him up and down, “you got a girlfriend?”

Megumi lets out a laugh, coughing slightly on the smoke still swirling around in his chest, “no, why?”

You grin, “‘m hitting on you.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” Megumi presses.

“You’re pretty cute,” you shrug.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Megumi asks, turning his head to blow the smoke away from you.

“No, no boyfriend… why? Are you hitting on me?” You ask curiously with a shit-eating grin plastered across your pretty glossy lips. 

Megumi looks at you and the two of you hold eye contact for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips briefly before he squashes out the rest of his cigarette, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“So you are hitting on me,” you tease.

Megumi takes the cigarette from your fingers, stealing your last puff and inwardly beaming at the cherry flavour of your lip gloss before squashing it out for you, “I’m buying you a drink.”

Megumi does indeed buy you a drink, bringing it back to the table for you, even getting you a straw.

“Thank you, Fushiguro,” you smile sweetly.

“Megumi is fine,” he says, pulling his chair out to sit next to you.

You suppress a smile, “okay, Megumi.”

The both of you miss as Yuji reluctantly slips Nobara some cash. 

The two of you talk all night. Megumi is a little more laid back after you manage to get two drinks into him. The time slips away from you and you find yourself not even interested in what Nobara and Yuji are talking about as you talk to Megumi. 

Megumi lets you toy with his fingers, your nails dragging along his tattooed hand and up his arm. You suddenly grow curious, wondering if he’s got any other tattoos underneath his clothes, you feel like a bit of a perv coming onto this guy you just met, but you’re so drawn to him and he seems to be just as into you.

You catch Megumi’s eyes drifting down to your tits before he quickly clears his throat to answer whatever question you asked him. You think it’s cute and you decide to tease him a little by wriggling a little closer to him, your fishnet-clad thigh pressing against his. 

He knows what you’re doing and he’s not even mad about it. He lets you laugh and hang off him, lets you toy with the hem of his hoodie sleeves and lets you bump shoulders with him. In all honesty, he lets you because you’re hot and you’re into him.

“God, it’s so late,” Nobara sighs, wincing at the brightness of her phone.

Megumi checks his own phone; 12:54am. God, it is late.

“Open your phone,” you mutter, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“Why?”

“Just open your phone,” you giggle.

He does as you say and he nearly has a fucking heart attack when his phone opens to your Instagram that he was totally not stalking just a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he knows he’s caught red-handed when you start to laugh softly, his hand falling slack in his lap.

“Aw, you’re stalking me, Gumi?” 

Megumi feels his chest tighten at the little nickname and he rolls his eyes but doesn’t offer any kind of explanation as he hands you his phone to do whatever it is you wanted to do.

You scroll to his contacts, quickly putting your name and number in his phone (you also make sure to follow your Instagram from his phone) before clicking it shut and handing it back to him. 

“Don’t forget to call me, kay?” you give him the prettiest doe eyes and quickly stand up, grabbing your jacket to join Nobara as she leaves. “It was nice to meet you, Megumi.”

He sits there dumbfounded as you and Nobara leave, he watches your back, watching your little skirt ride up over your ass a bit as you walk away. Fucking hell.

“Dude!” Yuji nudges his arm, “you got her number!”

“Shut up,” Megumi retorts.

“Told you you’d have fun.”

“Shut up!”

Megumi shoves a laughing Yuji away as he reaches for his own stuff to leave. The club is mostly empty by now, Megumi not realising how much time they’d spent here because he was so fucking distracted by you.

He and Yuji go to leave when Megumi notices your purse is still hanging over your chair. He quickly grabs it, scanning the crowd with his tall frame in hopes you’re still hanging around. You’re not, so he quickly pulls on Yuji to catch you before you go. Not that you’ll get far without your keys.

-

“Fuck,” you stand by your car and realise you left your purse in the club. You’re almost two blocks away from said club and Nobara has already left, leaving you somewhat stranded. You sigh, pulling your phone out of your pocket to text Nobara and ask her to turn around and take you home because you’re too tired and your feet hurt too much to walk all the way back.

“Hey, Y/N,” you perk up at the sound of your name, spinning on your heel and watching as Megumi catches up to you, your purse slung over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck, thank you!” you sigh with relief as Megumi hands you back your purse. You fish through your purse for your keys, “did Yuji drive you?”

“Yeah, but he’s already left,” he says.

You give him a look, “he has, huh?”

“Thought I could drive you… since you’ve had a couple,” Megumi tilts his head at you and you grin knowingly.

“What a gentleman,” you tease. “My place or yours?” you joke.

Megumi just looks at you and there’s a thick tension hanging in the air. He suddenly surges forward, capturing your pretty glossy lips in a hard kiss.

You kiss him back almost instantly, lifting your arms to wrap around his neck. Even with heels on, Megumi is taller than you and you have to arch your back to catch his slightly chapped lips as he leans over you, his large hands landing on your waist to pull your hips against his.

“Here’s fine,” he mutters against your lips with a cheeky smirk, you can only laugh softly as one of his tattooed hands comes up to hold the back of your head, forcing you to deepen the kiss.

He forces his tongue into your mouth and you whine softly. He tastes of tobacco and spiced rum and it makes you fucking dizzy. You thread your fingers through his messy black hair, tugging on it as he moves you to press your back against the cold car window.

“You bring my purse all the way here just to kiss me?” You quirk a brow at him, panting slightly.

“Maybe,” he grins, trailing his lips down your jaw to your neck. “You leave your purse on purpose so I’d bring it to you?”

“Maybe.” 

Megumi’s hands trail down your waist to your ass, gently kneading the soft flesh over your tiny skirt. Your pretty nails push up the hem of his hoodie, feeling up his toned as fuck abs that tense slightly under your touch.

He kisses you again, his thumb coming to rest on your throat as his fingers squeeze slightly, god you really want him to choke you while he fucks you–

“Unlock the car, Y/N,” he says against your ear, his voice low and sexy. 

You pull your keys out of your purse and unlock your car (you’re lucky your car is parked in the dark at the back of the parking lot). 

You clamber over each other in the backseat until you’re straddling Megumi’s lap, your fingers in his hair once again while he kisses and sucks on your neck. His hands knead your ass, his fingers slipping down to lift your tiny skirt over your ass.

“Mm, touch me, Gumi,” you whine against his ear.

Megumi smiles against your neck before pulling away from you. You whine a little at the loss of contact but he quickly kisses you again, one of his hands snaking up the bottom of your top to grope your tits. You hold his hand over your top, forcing him to squeeze your soft skin.

You let out a soft moan at the feeling of his cold rings nipping at your hot skin. You grind your hips down against his, feeling his bulge rub against your wet panties. He groans at the feeling, his free hand curling into the plush skin of your ass before he reels it back to deliver a smack! to your ass.

You moan at the slight sting, hands holding Megumi’s face to kiss him as he forces your hips to grind against his hard-on.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” Megumi pants against your lips.

“I just wanted you t’fuck me,” you retort playfully.

“Such a slut,” he kneads your ass again before reaching his hand down further to run his middle finger across your slit over your panties. “Someone’s excited, hm?”

“Shut up,” you whine as he traces his finger over your clothed clit. You curl your fists into the fabric of his hoodie, moaning against his shoulder as he presses his finger a little harder against your clit.

He suddenly reaches both hands down, ripping apart your fishnets for better access. He pulls your pretty lacy panties aside, the pad of his finger prodding at your soaked hole. He traces his fingertip around the opening, chuckling as you whine and hump his lap looking for friction.

“Don’t tease me,” you grumble.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy,” he teases. You pout and he chuckles, pressing a wet kiss to your lips as he plunges his finger into your awaiting heat. 

You moan at the feeling, pressing your face into his shoulder as he pumps his middle finger into your tight cunt. You’re so fucking tight and you’re only taking a finger– he can only imagine how heavenly you would feel wrapped around his cock.

Your little hand presses against the buckle of his belt and Megumi delivers another hard smack! to your reddened ass. You moan out again, your trembling hands clutching his hoodie.

“So fucking impatient,” Megumi presses a second finger into your cunt, peering over your shoulder and watching as your slick starts to coat his palm and probably his clothed thigh.

“Mm, hah–” you sigh, feeling as Megumi scissors your poor little cunt open, his fingers prodding and curling against the spongy spot inside you. Your pussy makes lewd squelches as Megumi fucks his fingers into you. You grind your hips against his hard cock in his boxers, the friction rubbing your poor neglected clit.

You feel your lower belly start to burn as you whine and hump against Megumi’s clothed cock, your hole beginning to tighten and spasm around his fingers.

Megumi suddenly pulls his fingers from your soaked little pussy. You let out a frustrated whine as the burn in your belly subsides and you pant against Megumi’s neck. 

His fingers prod at your lips without warning and you open your mouth just slightly and he forces his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your cute little tongue.

You suck on his fingers, your smaller hand curling around his wrist as you make cute little noises. Megumi kisses your temple before his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, “I want you to cum on my cock… can you do that f’me, baby?”

You nod your head quickly.

“Words, baby,” he coos, his hand kneading over the harsh red welt blooming on your ass. 

“Mhm… I can do it,” you pant, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin. “Please.”

Megumi’s hand reaches for his belt buckle, quickly undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. If he wasn’t so impatient, he would have taken you home and had you spread your legs for him to fuck you with his tongue and his fingers. Then he would have forced you onto your knees and fucked your face until you cried before he put his dick anywhere near your cunt.

But this is just as good.

Megumi pulls his cock from his boxers, groaning as he pumps himself a few times. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the sheer size of him, but also the fact that underneath the pink head of his cock is a little silver barbell. 

“You got a condom, baby?

“N-No,... you have your dick pierced?”

Megumi almost forgets he has it half the time, “yeah… feels good, don’t worry.”

You bite your lip, suddenly a little jealous of how he exactly figured out his piercing felt good. Megumi notices your flushed face and the way you chew on your lip. His large hand gently cups your face, forcing you to look at him so he can press a soft kiss to your lips.

He reaches for your hand, bringing it down to wrap around his hard cock. It’s heavy in your hand and you gently squeeze, jerking him off.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Megumi kisses at your skin, “promise ‘m gonna take you on a date tomorrow.”

You giggle at his attempt to make you feel better, “you better, cus if you’re gonna fuck me raw you better buy me dinner.”

Megumi chuckles through a low groan, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to stop squeezing and jerking him off because if you keep doing it he’s gonna cum like a teenager because you’re the prettiest fucking girl he’s ever seen and now you’re on top of him with your top pushed over your pretty tits and your pussy waiting for him.

Megumi kisses you again, his tongue pressing against yours as you lift yourself up a little, your hand wrapping around the base of Megumi’s big fucking cock to line him up with your sopping hole. 

Megumi’s hands land on your hips, his dark eyes meeting yours as his tip prods as your hole. You feel his piercing catch on the outside of your hole and you tip your head back and moan as you sink down, Megumi peppering kisses across your tits as he helps you lower yourself down on his cock.

You’re so fucking tight around him when he finally bottoms out, your pussy wrapped so snug, pulsing slightly as you pant and moan.

“S’big, Gumi,” you whine.

“I’ll be gentle,” he says as he lifts your hips, slowly pulling you back down on his cock. “You gotta help me out, princess.”

You pant, only just noticing how foggy your windows are. The two of you are coated in a thin sheen of sweat and you lean back, planting your hands on the tops of Megumi’s knees so you can bounce on his cock.

You start off slow before you get lost in the feeling of his cock and the piercing dragging against your tight walls. Megumi’s hands bruise your hips as he helps you bounce on his cock, his eyes unable to look away from where your pussy sucks in his cock.

Your slick is forming a white ring around the base of his cock, your wetness dripping down the inside of your thighs and down onto his pants. You’re fucked stupid on his dick as you babble and moan incoherently, unable to stop bouncing as you chase your orgasm.

You pull almost all the way off his dick before forcing yourself back down, your eyes screwing shut at the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix. Megumi’s hand presses against the slight bulge in your tummy, the feeling making you fucking dizzy.

“Harder, please Gumi, fuck me harder,” you cry out, your finger sinking down between your thighs to rub circles on your clit. 

Megumi feels like he gets harder at the nickname, “fuck, baby,” he coos, his hands bruising your hips as he bullies your cunt, the tip of his cock bruising your poor cervix. One of Megumi’s hands wraps around your throat, squeezing on your pretty neck. You choke on your own moans as your orgasm nears.

“I’m gonna– Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, mixing with your mascara and slipping down your pretty cheeks.

You feel your belly start to burn and your nails scratch at Megumi’s forearms as he lets go of your neck to press his own thumb against your sensitive little clit, forcing your orgasm out of you.

You cry when you feel the coil in your belly snap, your cunt spasming around Megumi’s cock and gushing around him.

“That’s it, princess. Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he eggs you on, your legs shaking at the feeling of your orgasm crashing into you. “You’re so tight, baby.”

You don’t respond, your vision turning white as your cunt clamps down on him. Megumi groans and grunts at the feeling, bouncing your hips on his lap and using your fucked out body to chase his own orgasm.

Megumi’s cock twitches inside you and you just whine and cry as he pumps you full of his cum, thick white ropes painting your insides. He forces your hips down onto his cock, finally ceasing his movements and just panting, attempting to catch his breath.

Your body shakes and you mewl softly, babbling incoherently. Megumi coos, pulling you against his chest and running a hand down your back to bring you back to earth, “shh, shh, you’re okay.”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“Too much?” he asks, petting your hair and kissing the crown of your head.

You shake your head, “best sex of my life,” you sigh.

Megumi chuckles, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back, his other hand fixing your shirt back over your boobs. “I’ll take you home now, kay?”

“You gonna stay?” you ask, peering up at him with a fucked out expression and dried mascara stuck to your cheeks.

“You want me to?” he smiles.

You nod, “mhm… otherwise how will you make me breakfast?”

Megumi laughs, lifting your head to press kisses to your face. 

After a moment longer, Megumi lifts you off of his softening dick, his cum leaking from your abused little hole. You sigh at the empty feeling, your thighs aching from the stretch. Megumi fixes your panties back into place, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

He manages to carry you and put you into the passenger seat, fastening your seatbelt for you before starting up your car and actually driving you home–

“Wait, where the hell am I going?”

You can only tiredly giggle from the passenger seat.

author's note: YEESH! i need a cold ass shower. dunno how i feel about it but!!! it’s here!!!

[laceyfaeryy]

MDNI 18+

mentions of: bondage, gagging, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

hunter! simon riley taking his sweet angel in the middle of the forest.

“don’t worry swee’heart, no one will find yer here.” his voice low slightly muffled by the black skull balaclava, his large tatted hands wrapping the thick coarse rope around your wrist. “jus’ be a good girl yeah?” gently stuffing your mouth with a gag, muffling your small whines and moans. simon knew that you had a thing for having sex in the forest, it was dirty and filthy, the thought that anyone could simply walk and see turned you on more than it should.

“‘m gonna ravish yer here luvie.”

your chest pressed against the rough tree trunk with your small boy shorts discarded on the forest bed along side with your cotton panties. simon absolutely adored fucking his angel here, in a place where he dominated. he knew the forest like it was the back of his hand, every turn , every hideout from hunting. it stirred something primal in him, like he was claiming you in a place that was his, his own playground. he pulled his cock out of his boxers, it thick and heavy in his hand as he gives it a few messy pumps.

simon knew about how easily turned on you got, all it took was for him to to remove his tight compression shirt and hunt shirtless, sweat glistening down his chiseled chest as he got all dirty. it also gave simon an excuse to give you a pair of the tiniest boy shorts, your cheeks peeking out whenever you walked in front of him. it meant that he walked around with a boner, his crotch area tight as it stained against his cargos. though it usually meant dry humping whilst he cooked the meal - you bouncing and grinding on his lap whilst he watched the meat cook on the grill.

“havin’ yer around makes me hard swee’heart, walkin’ around with a boner.” he grumbled as he rubbed his cock along your cunt, watching it as it glistened with your arousal, the wet sloppy sound filling his ears. he has barely touched you and yet here you were dripping all over him.

your cunt was welcoming, his fat tip nudging inside your soppy hole as your gummy walls clenched around him, snuggly fitting him in. “fuck luvie, yer need to loosen up.” simon hissed as he grabbed your hips, lifting one of your legs allowing his cock to plunge even deeper into your cervix. your moans came out muffled, drool dribbling down your chin as you were convinced that your jaw was locked.

the sounds of skin slapping filled the forest, squelching sounds from your needy cunt taking him in as your arousal dipped down his length and to his pubes. his dog tags making a slight jingling sound with each thrust, his rough scarred hands on your sides. simon knew you well enough to know when you were going to come from the way your warm walls clenched, almost milking him dry.

with the gag your moans came out broken, your sobs muffled with slight hiccups as simon grunted. “‘m gonna make you come alright swee’heart? don’t cry.”

simon always ensured that he had your legs wobbling as you limped out of the forest after, his cum dribbling down your thighs and to your legs making a sticky mess as he carried your thin cotton panties in his back pocket for a keepsake

[sachermorte]

so the thing about english is that people think it's so divorced from other germanic languages based on like. words. I've even heard people try to insist that english is a romance language. because of that whole messy business in 1066 with out-of-wedlock willy and his band of naughty normans. and now a good chunk of the vocabulary is french or whatever and they're prestigious so not using them makes you sound like a rube and this and that and the other

and yes william the conqueror will never be safe from me. I will have my revenge on him. he fucked up a perfectly good germanic language is what he did. this will be me in hell

but the thing is that most words in, say, german do have a one to one english equivalent. not all hope is lost, for those who still dare to see it. it's just that you 1066pilled normancels aren't looking in the right place

dog (en) ≠ der Hund (de) but der Hund (de) -> hound (en)

look with your special eyes. that one was easier. not all of them are this intuitive because of semantic narrowing and broadening and waltzing and hokey-pokeying and whatever else. I'll give you a few more

animal (en) ≠ das Tier (de)

aha! you think. I've got him on the ropes now.

but then

das Tier (de) -> deer (en)

nooooo!! you whine and cry in gay baby jail. the consonants are different!!! listen to me. listen, I say, putting both my hands on your shoulder. /t/and /d/ are the same sound. you just put your voice behind one of them.

nooooooooo!! you wail. deer are animals but not all animals are deer!!! listen to me. LISTEN. they used to be. animals used to be deer. that's just what we called them. it was a long time ago. it was a weird time in all our lives. it's okay.

let's try for a verb this time

to die (en) ≠ sterben (de) but sterben (de) -> to starve

same principle with the consonants, we're just changing a stop (where we completely stop the airflow and then let it through) for a fricative (where we still let some air go through. idk where it's going. maybe to its job or something.)

to starve used to mean generally to die, not just to die of malnourishment. we do that a lot. we take one word for a lot of things and make it mean one thing. or take one word for one thing and make it mean a lot of things. this is common and normal.

"okay but roland," you say, suddenly coming up with an argument. "what about tree? trees are super common. I don't think we'd fuck around too much with that. the german word is baum! what about THAT?"

"when did you learn german?" I ask, but then decide it isn't relevant right at this very moment. but fine.

tree (en) ≠ der Baum (de) but der Baum (de) -> beam (en)

beam??? you ask incredulously. beam???? BEAM?????? you continue with the same tone and cadence of captain holt from brooklyn 99.

yes. beam. like the evil beams from my eye I'm going to hit you with if you don't stop shouting.

but the vowels!!! you howl.

listen. listen to me. the vowels mean nothing. absolutely nothing. they're fluid like water. it got raised in english.

"WHAT DOES RAISED MEAN"

it doesn't matter right now. they were raised better than you, at least. stop shouting. open your eyes and see what god has given you. they're the same word.

"they're NOT the same word. they mean different things!"

we've been over this. they didn't used to. a beam was (and is) a long solid piece of wood. much like the long solid piece of wood I showed your mother last night.

FAQ:

Q: could english be some kind of germanic-romance hybrid?

A: do you become a sexy thing from the black lagoon just because you dressed up as one for halloween? english may have gotten a lot of vocabulary from norman french, but its history and syntax are distinctly germanic. that's what we base these things on.

Q: okay but what does it matter? this doesn't actually affect my day to day life

A: you come into my house? you come into my house, the house of an autistic man living in vienna austria and studying english linguistics and you ask me what does it matter? sit back down. I was going to let you go but now I have powerpoints to show you

Q: you're stupid and wrong and gay and a bad person

A: I know it's you, Willy

[gojosoups]

New Nails, Who Dis?

cw: smut, established relationship, creampie, unprotected sex, teasing, biting, scratching, cum licking, grinding, f! reader, all characters are 18+, MDNI, barely proofread lolll

a/n: daddy’s home everyone…. it’s been so long since my last fic was posted :/ sorry for starving you guys for so long </3 I’ll try my best to be more frequently active again..no promises tho LOLLL

Whenever you get a new set of nails, you find yourself perched up in Gojo Satoru's lap, your hands against his pecs as he traces the pretty designs of your nails. A love-sick smile on his face as he listens to you talk about your day and the errands you ran.

His fingers trace over the bold, black curved "G" l painted against your white French tips, all while your teeth sink into your bottom lip—nearly cutting into the soft tissue of your glossy lips—as your thighs quiver from his thrusts.

You sniff, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as you grind against his thick cock, arms shaking from overwhelming pleasure as you try to stay upright. Your newly fresh acrylics digging into Satoru's defined chest, leaving behind a trail of angry red claw marks, only further encouraging him to increase his pace.

Throwing your head back in pleasure, your breasts bounce in sync with each snap of his hips as your back arches. His hands trail down from your fingers to your arms before gripping the plush of your hips, guiding your soaked pussy along his impressive length.

"Ah—fuck, 'toru," you whimper, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, hands now resting at his broad shoulders, fingertips digging into his pale flesh as you both try to chase your high. "Right there," you sob prettily, wet lashes fluttering as you take in his flushed cheeks and the goofy grin on his face.

“Shit,” Satoru groans, his voice heavy and strained. His fingers dig into your soft hips, leaving crescent-shaped indents in your skin from the strength of his grip. There’s a quiver in his voice as he keeps up the pace. “Hear that, baby?”

Your breath hitches, and the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room —squelch, squelch, squelch— the obscene sound of your slick walls clenching around him as each thrust becomes louder than the last.

A hand trails down from your hips to between your thighs, making you flinch as the rough pad of his thumb starts circling your sensitive clit. Letting out a breathy whimper, your hips jerk from the sudden stimulation.

His other hand slides up the nape of your neck, pulling you down into a messy, sloppy kiss—full of teeth, tongue, and saliva—almost rivaling the wetness of your pussy. Almost.

“That’s how wet this pussy is,” he says, a cocky smirk curling on his lips as his cerulean eyes drink you in. Every flinch. Every hitched breath. Every flutter of your lashes and every bite of your lip. “All for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth grazing your lobe with a teasing bite.

His pace turns brutal—deep, relentless thrusts pounding up into your soaked, fluttering cunt as he chases your release on his thick cock.

Your eyes screw shut the moment he bottoms out inside you, and with a strained groan, thick, hot ropes of cum shoot deep into your womb. Your greedy pussy clenches around him like a vice—he lets out a low, broken moan, hips stuttering as you squeeze his aching length, your fluttering lips milking every last drop as you come undone around him.

A mixture of your cum and his begins to pool beneath the sheets and onto his lap, which he eagerly cleans up with his fingers, dipping them into the mess before shoving them into your mouth and watching you moan around his fingers.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platf

[mssorceressupreme]

Under Your Control

———

Pairing: In ho x reader

Summary: you wake up almost bare one night, away from the other players, tried to someone’s bed in an all too luxurious bedroom.

only to discover that the person you loved, young-il was the frontman and he would stop at nothing to gain information out of you.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, dom!inho, sub!reader, non-con touch, age gap, oral f!receiving, fingering, hickeys, use of ropes/tied up, betrayal, stripping, toxic relationship, orgasm denial

———

The first thing you noticed was the softness beneath you—luxurious sheets that felt entirely foreign after the cold, hard floor of the hall. Blinking awake, your arms tugged instinctively, only to be met with resistance. Your wrists were tied to the bedposts, the smooth silk of the restraints deceptively gentle against your skin but firm enough to hold you in place. Panic bubbled in your chest as your eyes darted around the room.

It wasn’t like anywhere else you’d seen in this nightmare of a game. The room was extravagant, draped in rich fabrics and gilded accents, a far cry from the stark, utilitarian halls where the other players remained. The flickering light from a crystal chandelier above cast shifting shadows on the walls, adding to the eerie stillness.

“Where… where am I?” you murmured, your voice trembling. The silence pressed against you, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. You tugged harder against the restraints, your breath quickening. “Let me go!” you called out to no one in particular.

A creak at the far end of the room made your head snap toward the sound. A figure stepped into view, cloaked in black, their face hidden behind the sleek, metallic mask that sent chills through you. The mask’s emotionless design contrasted cruelly with the humanity you desperately searched for.

“Who are you?” you demanded, your voice rising despite the fear knotting in your throat. “Where am I? What’s going on?” You struggled against the restraints, the silk cutting slightly into your wrists.

The figure tilted their head, the movement slow, calculated. They took a step closer, then another, the weight of their presence suffocating. Finally, their gloved hand reached up, gripping the edge of the mask.

Time seemed to slow as they pulled it off, revealing a face you knew all too well.

“Young-il?” you breathed, disbelief flooding every syllable. Your heart twisted painfully, as though the air had been stolen from your lungs.

He smirked, the expression sharp, almost cruel, and yet it sent an unwelcome flutter through your chest. “Surprised, angel?” he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey laced with poison.

The nickname, one he’d used during the games, felt like a blade twisting in your heart. It was a cruel reminder of who you thought he was—the ally who had stood by your side, shared quiet moments of understanding, and made you feel safe.

And yet here he was, towering over you, not as a fellow player but as something far more sinister.

“You…” Your voice cracked as you stared at him, your emotions tangling into a knot of betrayal and heartbreak. “You lied to us. To me. You’re one of them.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that felt like a mockery of all the warmth you once thought he possessed. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he said, his tone playful but undercut with a dangerous edge. “I was doing what I had to. We all are.”

Your lip trembled, but you set your jaw, glaring at him even as your chest ached. “I trusted you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “...I loved you.”

His smirk faltered for a split second, a flicker of something softer passing through his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that same icy exterior. He moved closer after taking off his coat to reveal a black tight fitted shirt underneath.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he hovered over your tied-up vulnerable body, both his legs on either side of your hips.

“I’m not here to talk about feelings, Y/N,” he said, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed against your cheek. “I need information.”

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His hand cupped your jaw, gently but firmly turning your face back to him. The touch sent a jolt through you, confusing and unwelcome. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice a quiet warning. “I know you’re close to Gi-hun. He trusts you. Now, tell me about that plan he told you.”

“No,” you said, the word shaking but resolute. “I won’t betray him. I won’t betray them.”

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Oh, angel,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

Before you could protest, his lips captured yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It was unexpected, overwhelming, and despite everything, it ignited something in you that you couldn’t suppress. Your resolve wavered as his hand moved to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

When he pulled away, you were left reeling, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “Now,” he said, his voice softer but no less commanding, “tell me.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from speaking. He tilted his head, his eyes scanning your body up and down, beneath him. He then caressed the side of your upper body, his hand making his way to your jacket zipper.

Shit, you weren't wearing a bra underneath today, nor a shirt, because it was supposedly bedtime. Slowly, he undid your zipper, exposing your cloth-less skin. "No bra?"

You laid beneath him shaking your head slightly, now bare, even more vulnerable.

"Look at you, so fucking pretty..." He then leaned in, "I might have to be rough if you don't tell me what I want..." He cooed, almost mockingly. His lips ghosting over yours, teasing, before pressing another kiss to them, sucking lightly. This time, your body betrayed you entirely, melting into him despite the storm of emotions crashing within you. Straightening himself up, he pulled your pants down while still hovering over you, leaving you in your undies. He pressed his thumb to your throbbing clit, with pressure before slowly stroking your folds over the fabric of your undies.

“Stop,” you whispered, though the word lacked conviction. “Please...” Yet, he continued, slipping two fingers inside your undies before stroking your folds again. You tried to resist his touch, you hated this, you hated him for betraying you guys. But your body felt differently. Trying to resist the pleasure, you forced yourself to not react, however, your body kept twitching under his touch and from all the pleasure building up.

“Then talk,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a velvet threat.

The push and pull was too much. Your heart warred with your mind, your love for him tangling with the sharp sting of his betrayal. "I won't." You spat, and he responded by inserting two fingers harshly inside you. You moaned, tilting your head back, panting heavily as he began pumping in and out of you. "Stop..." You pleaded, whimpering as he picked up his pace. Your breathing was heavy, gosh, he managed to make you feel so good, you were like putty under his control. "You tell me to stop, yet your body tells me otherwise...." His voice was low, sensual, "...so fucking wet for me..."

You felt your climax near approaching, your heartbeat quickening, you were close. "Young-il..." You plead, once more. "I'm gonna....I'm getting close..." Barely a whisper came out, your eyes shut tightly, body melting under his touch. "I'm gonna cum..."

He continued, pumping deeper and faster, and your climax was getting close and closer until...

He pulled his fingers out.

"Don't stop please..." You begged, "please Young-il I need you..." You mentally slapped yourself for sounding so needy, begging for more. No matter how mad you were, a part of you still wanted him. He smirked, seeing how needy you were for him which also fuelled his own desire. His bulge was evident, pressing against your thigh.

Young-il stroked your cheeks softly, "Oh Y/N, you'll get what you want...once you tell me his plan."

"I already told you I won't." You retort. "Such a stubborn, pretty mouth, hm?" He gazed into your eyes, filled with lust. He wanted you so bad, he'd do anything to make his name fall from your pretty mouth again.

He bent down, planting sloppy kisses on your collarbone down to your stomach. Sucking harshly till he left a bruise, "You'll look even more gorgeous with my marks all over you." Shifting down, Young-il moved closer to your cunt, making eye contact while he licked your folds.

"Young-il..." You moaned, body involuntarily arching, bucking your hips up into his face. Placing his hands on the velvety part of your inner thighs, he parted your legs wider before leaning in again to place kitten licks on your cunt.

"You taste so good angel..." He murmured into you.

He made sure to suck on your clit, with extra pressure, licking between the folds, slowly but sensually. "Young-il please..." You whimpered.

He pulled away slightly, "You want me to let you cum?"

"Please..." You begged, breathing heavily.

"Please what?" He retorted, "Use your words beautiful."

"Please make me cum..." You whined, before he continued, licking your whole slit, your became wetter by the second, body begging for more.

"The plan." He demanded you to tell him, "Now." Before pulling away again.

You groaned, wanting more, needing more. Your body so close filled with arousal, yet so far from a climax.

He leaned down once more, sucking on your clit again.

"The guards!-" You cried aloud, overwhelmed with pleasure. "An attack at midnight..." You moaned softly.

"Anything else?" Young-il smirked, knowing the control he had over you. "That's Gi-hun's plan...attack management at midnight when they've assumed we're asleep." You blurt out, which you immediately regretted. You told him what he wanted to know—about Gi-hun’s plan, the uprising, the desperate hope for freedom. Satisfied, Young-il sucked harder, licking every inch of your cunt with fervour. You moaned loudly, panting heavily as you came closer to a climax.

"I'm so close...gonna cum..." You arched your back further, "I'm gonna..." Then it washed over you, your body jerking harshly as it filled with pleasure. Your walls throbbed, and you felt a rush to your core; you let out a moan, hands tangling in Young-il's hair as you came.

When you finished, he pulled back, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He reached out, brushing a hair from your face with a gentleness that felt like a cruel mockery. “Good girl,” he said softly.

You turned your face away, tears slipping silently down your cheeks as guilt and shame consumed you. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, "See that wasn't so hard was it." Young-il zipped up your jacket and helped you put on your track pants but still leaving you tied up.

He stood up, getting off the bed, “Not a word of this to anyone,” he said, his voice cold and unfeeling once more. “If you do, they’ll die. Every last one of them.”

You nodded, unable to speak. "Sleep here for tonight, the bed is more comfortable." He spoke while putting on his jacket, "When you wake up tomorrow, you'll be back in the hall with the others. I'll see you there angel." He winked, placing the mask back over his face before walking away.

Your body tremlbed as the door closed behind him.

Despite everything, your heart still ached for him. And that, more than anything, was the cruelest twist of all.

[nezuscribe]

you should be here.

you really shouldn’t be here.

but you were a good friend, maybe too good a friend one would argue, and one of your girls heard about this underground gig (boxing, fighting?) going on and roped you into going.

and knowing you, this was way out of your comfort range. she was shocked you agreed to it, but you were tired of being perceived as the sheltered on and decided to bite the bullet and tag along.

but now you realize that you should’ve just stayed home and rewatched some stupid show.

because this place was giving you all sorts of signals to just get out.

it was in what seemed like a dingy warehouse that could only be accessed through some sketchy alley. you truly have no idea how she found this place and your betting that it wasn’t some ad she told you she saw on someone’s story.

the vast room was barely lit, with only a few lights flickering as they struggled to stay on. you felt like you’d catch an undiscovered disease if you sat anywhere and opted to stand, but that was another issue.

despite how destitute this place seemed to be, it was packed.

there were so many people standing near the ring, everybody yelling praises or shouts of anger as somebody took a punch. you could hear skin hitting skin, could hear the breaking of tissues and bones even from where you were.

your friend dragged you by the arm, seeming as if there was no worry about this place, and it was too late to go back even though the alarms in your head were going off.

fuck, you start thinking, what is this place? what if you bump into someone weird? what if the cops come? what if the location gets leaked? what would happen to you two? what if….

your mind trails off as your friend wiggles her way through an empty spot, bringing the two of you closer to the ring.

you look at the fighters, mouth going dry at the sight.

one of the fighters, the one facing you, seemed bloodied to no return. his eye was black and weeks shut, nose dripping with blood. his face was salted with bruises, his body sagging as the other fighter, the one with his back to you, took another fighting stance.

“he’s who i wanted to see,” bri mutters excitedly, pointing her finger to the fighter with white hair, “i’ve heard he’s really good,”

you nod slowly, looking around in a skittish way. you knew you should’ve said no, but you really cleave no choice but to support her and her dangerous side quests.

he plants another fist to the injured one’s face, making him stumble back as the white haired fighter angles his body sideways, letting you two get a look at his side profile.

he seemed fine, a little bruising on the cheek but nowhere near the damage of the other guy. he must be as good as bri says you guess.

the people around you hoot and holler, pushing you further into on of the poles as you wince in discomfort, your face twisting in pain a little as some of the men behind you push forward with no concept of personal space.

you look over at bri but she’s just as engaged, shouting for the white haired guy to continue beating the other man up in ways that could only be described as primal and very, very illegal.

it’s only a few more minutes before the match is ended and the two fighters are pulled away from each other, the battered one looking like he was one punch away from becoming limp.

the yells around you grow louder and louder, the sound rattling around in your head. you wince, trying to smile for bri as she jumps up and down. you know this is only the beginning of the night and can’t afford to bring the energy down.

the white haired one turns around, raising his hands as he asks for the noise to grow louder, a smile on his face as his bandaged hands curl into fists, one pumped victoriously in the air.

but that’s not what takes you by surprise.

your eyes widen in shock when you see his face, mouth dropping almost comically when you realize this isn’t a random street fighter,

but the nerdy boy who sits next to you in your neuroanatomy class.

and judging by the way gojo looks around until he sees you, the proud smile on his face faltering for a second before his eyes cloud with utter confusion,

he wasn’t expecting to see you here either.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ignorantia Neminem Excusat

(Ignorance excuses no one, lat.)

"Commissioner."

Jim Gordon doesn't jump. They are years and years into this rodeo, he's stopped actually jumping at Batman's silent approach a long time ago. Yet, Bruce still notices the way his shoulders twitch just the tiniest bit, and his hand makes an aborted motion to his gun holster. Still got it.

The man turns around. Bruce can see the 'must you always do that?' in his slightly narrowed eyes. He presses his lips tightly together in order to not smirk: Batman doesn't do that, even if it's admittedly funny to see the seasoned Commissioner get spooked every time.

"There's a kid that wants to speak with you."

Bruce frowns. A kid that warranted a BatSignal? Not that he minds, but this is highly unusual for several reasons; however, Jim is not the kind of man that would fall for puppy eyes of any level, so it must be something more important than an autograph session or a victim of any of the recent cases.

Besides, the way Commissioner worded it implies that the kid, whoever they are, requested Batman specifically.

"He is a hacker," Jim puts both his hands in the pockets of his coat — he is either cold or uncomfortable, and Bruce highly suspects it's both. What's more, he starts to understand why. "I'm sure you're aware we were trying to track the person responsible for the few recent cyber attacks on GCPD servers," Jim glances at him, and Bruce nods. He is aware, yes, but the case was low-priority — it wasn't even an attack, really, someone just accessed the system foregoing the passwords and clearance levels, went through a few files, seemingly at random, and did a fairly decent job of hiding their traces. Bruce would have even thought it was Tim, if this happened a few years ago, when the boy was just learning the ropes.

Commissioner sighs and looks away, "But when we brought him in, the boy said he will only speak to you, and none of us have been able to make him say a word since." He pauses, a grim kind of expression on his face, "This was six hours ago."

Bruce is grateful for the way his cowl hides how his eyebrows raise. There are hundreds of scripts officers, detectives, and social workers can use to establish contact. Quite a lot of them could be attempted in the span of six hours.

Whatever the kid wants to tell him, Bruce decides it's worth a try. If not anything else, he can at least admire the sheer stubbornness.

—×—×—×—

The kid sitting in the interrogation room looks... younger than Bruce expected. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. He is dressed like any other homeless kid in Gotham — a hoodie and a jacket over it, jeans that look a size too big on him, sneakers with mismatched shoelaces — but he clearly hasn't been out in the streets for that long. His hair is braided into cornrows, and it looks professional, even if the roots have grown out so now it's just messy. What's more, he is missing that telltale wariness in his posture that Bruce has seen in every other street kid that has been brought into a police station. They always slouch and curl into themselves.

This boy is sitting with his back straight. Yet, there's a tension in his body that Bruce can only associate with a battle stance — give him the slightest reason, and the kid will lunge.

He steps into the room.

The boy — he hadn't given a name, and there wasn't a single ID on him — zeroes on him instantly. His eyes are a very pale, almost translucent green: a rather strange feature for a black-skinned person, genetically speaking, but Bruce doesn't dwell on it. Yet.

But then, the face recognition program comes up empty.

As in, 'there's not a trace of this person's prior existence' empty. Not a single camera footage, no records or reports of missing, no pictures, no social media, nothing. Bruce frowns.

"Hi," the kid says, his voice raspy, "My name is Tucker Foley. According to the government, I don't exist, so if your recognition program doesn't find anything on me, that's why."

Bruce doesn't say anything. Tucker wanted to speak with him, and previously, he was only merely intrigued by that request. However, as of right now, he wants to hear everything the kid has to say before asking any follow-up questions.

Because that always present, cautious and bordering on paranoid voice in the back of his mind tells him he is about to get into something way more serious than he expected.

Tucker moves — he kept both his hands on the table, palms open and visible, but now he closes one into a fist. Although, before Bruce can react to it, he opens it again. A small, the size of a flash-drive, dimly glowing green object rests inside.

"Do you know what this is?" The boy asks. He hasn't looked away from Batman's face once; Bruce is not even sure he blinked at all since he entered the room. Come to think of it, even with his tense, rigid posture, Tucker is too still, almost unnervingly so.

Bruce glances down to the boy's hand.

"Yes," he answers curtly, and there it is, the smallest shift in Tucker's face: he clenches his jaw like he's trying to hold the words inside his mouth. Bruce doesn't like it.

"What is it?" Comes the next question, but it's not curiosity that prompts it. It's a test of some sort. Bruce likes that even less.

"A power source," he decides on a neutral answer, not entirely certain what the boy is expecting to hear.

It seems to be a wrong answer because for the first time, Tucker's emotions slip from under his mask, and he takes a sharp breath in, looking like Bruce had just slapped him across the face. It lasts only a moment — Tucker closes his eyes for a moment, slowly exhales, and speaks again, calm and focused once more.

"And what exactly powers it?"

It's an important question, judging by the desperate, searching look in Tucker's eyes. His hands are not shaking, and there are no visible signs of distress, but for some reason, Bruce just knows that the boy's whole life seems to depend on the answer.

But.

"It's classified." Bruce doesn't take his eyes off the boy, but he still fails to see when he gets to his feet; the movement is quicker than the blink of an eye. All he knows is the aftermath of it, the screech of the chair legs on the floor and the loud slam of Tucker's palms on the table.

"Fuck the classified!" The boy yells, his face twisting in an awful mix of anger, hurt and a broken, terrified sort of hopelessness that almost breaks Bruce from the inside. "I need to know what they've told you, I have to- Tell me you think it's just a battery! Tell me you've never broke one to see what's inside, tell me you believe in science! They've showed you the research, didn't they?" Tucker's voice, so agonizingly different from the composed way he was talking before, breaks into a sobbing, almost hysterical laugh. His pale eyes are wide open and almost panicked, searching Batman's face for something he is not sure he can find.

"Tell me you've never seen one being made," this time, the boy doesn't yell, he whispers, his breath hitching and his knuckles white. "Please," he adds a moment later, and Bruce knows this kind of plea.

It's the plea of someone who is begging for the world to have mercy on them. A plea of a boy standing on their parents' grave, a plea of a man kneeled in front of his son's corpse.

Bruce swallows the bitter taste on the back of his tongue and takes a step closer. He sees the boy in front of him lean back and bend his knees, like bracing for impact, but he answers before any more misunderstandings can occur.

"I have seen the research. It provided enough information that I've never investigated further," he offers, and Tucker's shoulders slump like months and months of living in a constant state of fight-or-flight leaving his body all at once. Then, the boy's hands start trembling just slightly.

"Really?" He quietly asks, his eyes still glued to Batman, and there it is, the hesitant, uncertain hint of hope in his voice.

Bruce suddenly feels like not only this talk will be much, much worse than he ever feared, but also like in the end this will be another one of the things he will be blaming himself for. Things he could have prevented if he just tried a little harder.

"Really," he nods, taking a seat opposite from Tucker. "So explain what I've missed."

The boy keeps looking at him for a few more seconds, like trying to x-ray his thoughts for any sign of a lie. But then he blinks — for the first time, maybe — and rubs his face with his palm before all but dropping back in his own seat.

"Okay," he breathes out, evidently trying to collect himself and go back to the strong, focused self, "Okay."

[ part 2 -> ]

[lov3lycosmos]

𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝐾𝑖𝑑𝑠 𝑆𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑁𝑜𝑛-𝑆𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑇𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑂𝑛𝑠 𐙚

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut MDNI

𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: where we talk about the sexual and non-sexual things that turn the stray kids members on (fem!reader)

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: praise, teasing, begging, oral, soft domination, brat taming, edging, overstimulation, corruption, innocence kink, thigh/voice/name fixations, control, messy kisses, pet names, and light degradation.

𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑦!

Bang Chan's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Black lace lingerie — Something about delicate, see-through black lace clinging to your curves makes his brain short-circuit. He loves how sinful you look while trying to act innocent. Bonus points if you wear thigh-highs with garters. He’ll grip your waist and whisper, "You're really doing this to me right now?"

• Being called Daddy in a soft voice — He doesn’t always ask for it, but when you drop it in your breathy moans, he loses it. Especially when you’re being a good girl and looking up at him with those eyes. Yes, those eyes — you know the ones.

• When you’re already soaking before he even touches you — There’s a moment of stunned silence when he feels it. Then comes the low chuckle and the, "You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you, baby?"

• You riding him in a skirt with nothing underneath — He gets feral when you take control, especially if you lean in and whisper exactly how good he feels. Bonus: when you bounce and the little skirt keeps flipping up? Game over.

• Waking him up with head — It’s not even fair. He’s half-asleep, barely aware, and then your mouth is on him? Yeah, he’s moaning your name in under a minute. Will absolutely return the favor tenfold.

Bangchan's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• You in his oversized hoodie, hair messy, no pants — It’s not sexual... until it is. Something about that domestic image makes him want to ruin you on the kitchen counter.

• Watching you take care of yourself — Skin care, journaling, eating your vitamins — he’s genuinely turned on by how soft and healthy you are. Says it makes him want to protect you, then proceeds to pin you against the wall.

• When you defend him in arguments — He's used to defending you. But when you flip the script? Oh, he’s obsessed. Low-key looks at you like you just proposed.

• You humming while doing chores — He walks by, hears you humming, and suddenly he’s watching your every move like you’re the most fascinating creature alive.

• You resting your head on his lap — Soft touches to his thigh, a quiet little yawn, and your lips brushing his skin? He’ll be hard in 30 seconds and trying to hide it like a gentleman. Key word: trying.

Minho's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Breathless whimpers — Especially when you try to hide them. That quiet gasp when he fingers you just right? He leans in close, grinning like the smug menace he is, and whispers, "Don’t hold back. Let them hear."

• Overstimulation — There’s nothing he loves more than seeing your legs trembling and hearing you say "I can’t" — only for him to keep going until you cum again anyway. "One more," he says, every time. "For me."

• Bondage — He doesn’t even need fancy ropes. Just your hands tied with a scarf and that helpless look in your eyes. He lives for control.

• Calling him sir in public subtly — It’s a dangerous game, but when you pull it off in a whisper while keeping your face all innocent? His grip on your thigh tightens. That’s your only warning.

• Cockwarming — He doesn’t even care if you finish. He just wants you sitting on him, needy and stuffed full while he makes you wait. Like the teasing sadist he is.

Minho's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Playing with his cats — The way you baby Soonie, Doongie, and Dori? You’re basically proposing. He’s already imagining you living together.

• When you don’t take his sass and throw it right back — He’s a menace, but when you sass him back with a smirk? He short-circuits and considers proposing on the spot.

• Your back when you’re putting your hair up — That stretch. That sliver of skin. Every damn time. It’s like you do it on purpose.

• When you laugh at his dumb jokes even when they’re bad — He pretends to hate it. But he secretly thinks you're the only person who gets him.

• Your hands in his hair — Pet him. Scratch his scalp. Stroke the back of his neck. Just know you’re not getting up again until he's done using you as a pillow...or something else.

Changbin's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Praise kink — Call him a good boy and watch him melt. Say it while you're moaning, and he might cum on the spot.

• Thigh riding — He loves watching you grind against his thick thighs like you can’t help yourself. Bonus if you end up leaving a wet patch — he’ll tease you for it while looking so damn proud.

• Public teasing — Whisper something dirty in his ear at a restaurant and watch his face go red. He’ll get his revenge later — expect to be face-down in the sheets the moment you get home.

• Mirror sex — He’s obsessed with watching you watch yourselves. Especially when he’s got a hand around your throat and you’re whimpering his name. “Look how pretty you are when I ruin you.”

• Your mouth — Doesn’t matter where. Kisses, oral, whispering filthy things — if your mouth’s involved, he’s obsessed.

Changbin's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• When you get excited about your hobbies — He loves seeing you geek out about your passions. Will sit and listen with the dopiest grin like you’re the most interesting person on Earth.

• Wearing his gym shirts — They’re huge on you and smell like him, and the sight makes him feral. Don’t be surprised if you get pulled into his lap.

• When you compliment his body without being shy — You grabbing his arms like, “Damn, baby”? Instant ego boost. Instant hard-on.

• Cooking together — You’re just chopping veggies and he’s behind you grabbing your waist like, “God, I’m so in love with you.”

• Snuggling into his chest while he’s sweaty — He’ll pretend to complain but secretly loves that you find him comforting even when he’s all gross from a workout.

Hyunjin's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Slow, sensual makeouts that turn filthy — He loves building tension. Tongues, teeth, gasps — he’ll pin you against the wall mid-kiss just to see you breathless.

• Body worship — He wants to kiss and touch every inch of you, praising every curve and scar. "So pretty, baby. Mine. All mine."

• Choking kink (light) — He doesn’t do it too rough, but when he places a hand on your neck and you moan? It flips a switch.

• Being teased until he begs — Yes, he will beg. Tease him slow, whisper how desperate he is, and he’ll be whining your name like a prayer.

• Spit play — It’s filthy, it’s messy, and he loves it. You spitting into his mouth? Immediate collapse.

Hyunjin's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• You letting him paint or sketch you — You're lying there, bare or not, and he’s staring at you like you’re a masterpiece.

• Dancing for/with him — It could be goofy or seductive. Either way, he’s got heart eyes.

• When you touch his face gently — Stroking his cheek? Fixing his hair? Babying him? He melts.

• Back hugs while he’s lost in thought — Sneak up and wrap your arms around him. He’ll lean back into you with the softest smile.

• Wearing his jewelry — His rings, his chain — it makes him feel like you’re marked by him. You know what that leads to.

Jisung's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Dirty talk — from you — Whisper something filthy and watch him glitch. He tries to match your energy but usually ends up whimpering.

• Desperate kisses — The kind where your hands are in his hair and it feels like you’ll die if you don’t touch him. He gets off on the intensity.

• Messy blowjobs — The wetter the better. Tears, spit, your hands gripping his thighs — he might lose it before you even finish.

• Calling him your pretty boy — Stroke his ego while you ride him and he’ll literally cry.

• Your hands down his pants while cuddling — He loves sneaky touches. Gets flustered but never stops you.

Jisung's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Sharing food with him — Especially when you feed him bites from your fork. Boyfriend behavior.

• Laughing at his jokes — Whether they’re hilarious or awful, he thrives on your laughter.

• Playing with his hair — Scratch his scalp and he’ll purr. Literally.

• Matching pajamas — He acts like it’s silly but takes secret photos of you and stares at them when he’s stressed.

• When you fall asleep on his chest — He won’t move for hours. Claims he doesn’t care but will tweet “someone loves me fr” an hour later.

Felix's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Praise kink (giving) — “That’s it, sunshine. Just like that.” Felix lives to see you glow under his words. You moan louder when he praises you, and he absolutely takes advantage.

• Eye contact while you’re on your knees — His voice drops when he sees you looking up at him. “You’re so pretty down there,” he breathes, brushing your hair back to get a clearer view.

• Temperature play — He loves dragging an ice cube down your skin or warming his hands and resting them between your thighs just to see you squirm.

• Mutual teasing until someone snaps — He’ll flirt, you’ll flirt back, and the moment turns into a game of who can break first. Spoiler: it's usually him.

• When you moan his name — Something about you purring out “Lixie” in that soft voice? He goes feral. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you know it.

Felix's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• You calling him pet names in your sleepy voice — Baby, love, sweetheart — if you say it half-asleep while snuggled into him? He’s yours forever.

• When you bake for him and let him lick the spoon — Domestic Felix is activated. Bonus: if you let him smear chocolate on your lips just so he can kiss it off.

• You clinging to him when you’re scared or nervous — He puffs up like a protective guard dog. And afterward? He holds you tighter than usual.

• Soft humming while you do your skincare — It’s calming, cozy, and Felix will watch from the bed like he’s witnessing an angel.

• Cuddling with your legs tangled under a blanket — He rubs little circles into your calf and whispers about how much he loves your warmth.

Seungmin's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Power play (him being in control) — He looks soft, but the way he grabs your chin and says, “Use your words, or I’ll stop,” proves he’s anything but.

• When you whimper while trying to stay quiet — He’ll smirk and lean in, voice low: “Don’t hide from me, baby. Let me hear you.”

• You getting bratty — He loves a little challenge. You roll your eyes? He’ll have you begging in five minutes.

• Dry humping while fully clothed — There’s something about the friction, the teasing, the way you grind on him with all your clothes still on. Torture — delicious torture.

• Your hands clutching at him — His hair, his back, his shirt — any desperate grab is rewarded with a deeper thrust and a dark chuckle.

Seungmin's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Matching socks — You didn’t even do it on purpose, but when he notices? He files it under “reasons we should live together forever.”

• You roasting him back — He teases. You tease back. He gets fake-offended, but secretly he’s thrilled you can keep up.

• Your sleepy voice when you first wake up — It’s all raspy and soft and makes his heart clench and pants tighten.

• When you instinctively reach for his hand in public — He won’t say anything, but his thumb will rub slow circles over your knuckles for the rest of the walk.

• The way you fold his laundry without being asked — Domestic acts of love? They hit him right in the chest. And yeah, he absolutely rewards you later.

Jeongin's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Innocent-looking lingerie — White lace, pastel sets, anything that looks soft and sweet? He’s drooling. The contrast between how you look and how filthy you get wrecks him.

• Topping from the bottom — You whine, “Please, Inn-ie,” while guiding his hands exactly where you want them? He shudders. Thinks about it for days.

• Being called “baby boy” during soft dom moments — It flips a switch in him. His eyes go wide, ears go red, and his hips start stuttering.

• When you gasp his name during foreplay — Not loud, not forced — just a soft, needy “Innie…” and he’s already tugging his shirt off.

• Your thighs wrapped around his waist — He holds on tighter, thrusts deeper, and kisses you like he’s starved.

Jeongin's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• You being confident in yourself — Whether it’s how you dress, speak, or carry yourself, he looks at you like you hung the moon. “Damn. That’s my girl.”

• Cuddling while watching cartoons together — You fall asleep on his chest mid-episode? He��s not moving for hours.

• The way you baby him when he’s stressed — You stroke his hair, call him sweet names, kiss his forehead. He won’t admit it, but it makes him feel safe.

• You sharing your hoodie with him — Bonus if it smells like you. Double bonus if it’s oversized and he drowns in it.

• When you compliment his voice — Whether he’s singing or talking, your compliments make him shy — but they also make him want to sing you to sleep that night.

𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @vampzity @sooniedoongiedori25 @mhluvie @yaorzu-blog @lze325 @felixleftchickennugget @m-325 @lezleeferguson-120 @psychicyouthfox @pixie-felix @angel-writes-here @heechwe @galaxy4489 @minniesverse @gncbnahc

(I'M STILL ADDING PEOPLE TO TAG! comment on any post, send an ask or a message if you want added!)

[buckyseternaldoll]

Tied in Trust

an inspiration from this post by @buckgasms 💜

— Part 2: Held, Not Bound

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You only asked for something light—just a little teasing, some rope, a blindfold. But Bucky Barnes never did anything halfway. Not when it came to you.

Disclaimer: SMUT 18+ (mdni!), rope bondage, sensory play (edging, overstimulation, blindfold), soft Dom! Bucky, established relationship, some tender aftercare...

Word Count: 7k

Author's Note: I am very inexperienced for this kind of play... 😔 and yes I am going to milk the gifs from this very scene for 89374748 more times tysm. I wrote this during hours of crying at work and struggling to stay awake from being overworked 🤫

“Are you sure you want this, hon?” His voice was low, hesitant—but so heartbreakingly tender it made your chest ache.

You looked up from the bed, where the soft cotton ropes lay coiled between you like quiet promises. “Very sure,” you said, with a breathless kind of smile.

You watched him wrestle with it. With the part of him that never quite let go of the fear he might hurt someone again. That part always hovered, shadowed behind his love, like a ghost that didn’t know how to rest. He stood near the bed, arms folded, jaw tight. But his eyes—God, his eyes—searched yours like they were trying to read the truth written in the lines of your face.

“I just…” He exhaled hard through his nose. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t.” You reached for him, fingers brushing his wrist, anchoring him to the present. “This is just for fun. Just something soft. I trust you.”

“But the ties… you won’t be able to move. And the blindfold…”

“We’ll go slow,” you promised. “And if anything doesn’t feel right, I’ll tell you. That’s what the safe word’s for.”

That got a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“What’d you pick again?”

You grinned. “Dim sum.”

A short laugh slipped from him, barely a breath. “Jesus. You couldn’t pick, I don’t know, red or pineapple?”

“It’s cute,” you said, pressing your forehead against his chest. “And you’ll remember it. Right, Sergeant?”

His hands, warm and callused, came to rest on your hips. You felt him sigh, deeply, the exhale pushing against your skin. He leaned down and kissed your temple.

“You’re a menace,” he murmured.

“But your menace,” you whispered back.

—

He took a step back.

Even in the soft glow of your bedroom, he looked devastating—broad-shouldered, tension coiled in every line of his frame. He was dressed down for once: just a white ribbed tank clinging to his chest and black sweatpants slung low on his hips. His metal arm gleamed faintly in the light.

And then his voice dropped.

“Take it off, sweetheart.”

You blinked.

“Clothes. Off. All of it—except the lace.” His tone wasn’t rough or harsh—it was smooth. Firm. Intentional. It made something low in your belly twist and flutter.

You swallowed and obeyed, fingers moving to lift the hem of your shirt first. The cotton slipped over your head, baring your skin to the room. You held his gaze as you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your sleep shorts and slowly pushed them down your thighs, heart hammering in your chest.

The air hit your skin, cool and immediate. You stood in your black lace bra and matching panties—the set you knew he liked. The set he’d once said made you look like “something too good to touch.”

He let his eyes roam, slow and reverent. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Then, quieter: “Lie back for me.”

You did.

—

He was quiet as he guided your arms above your head, positioning you with deliberate care. His fingers brushed against the skin of your inner wrists, soft and steady.

The rope was pale and worn, the kind that didn’t bite—just held. It moved through his fingers like second nature. He started slow. One loop. A second. A gentle tug.

His eyes flicked to your face, checking. Always checking.

“You doing okay?” His voice had dropped into something darker. Not cold. Just… heavier. Quieter.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He tied your wrists together, then anchored them to the headboard. It was snug, but not cruel. Just enough tension to remind you of who held the control tonight. Your breath caught—not from fear, but from the vulnerability of it. The surrender. The trust.

“Good girl,” he said under his breath, and you swore your pulse skipped.

Then he moved lower.

Bucky sat at the foot of the bed, large hands easing one ankle toward the bedpost. He kissed your shin softly before looping the rope around, threading it through with care. The other ankle followed—bound, spread. You were exposed now, laid bare and open to him, and still, he looked at you like you were something sacred.

“Too much?”

“Not even close.”

A beat passed. Then his hand slid over your thigh, up, up—until it ghosted close to your center. He didn’t touch, not yet. Just let the heat of his palm hover.

“I’ve got one more thing,” he said, voice a little hoarse.

You nodded, already knowing.

The blindfold.

He brought it forward—dark silk, cool to the touch—and laid it gently over your eyes. The world blinked out.

Your chest rose and fell faster now. Your heartbeat seemed louder in the dark. Every sound sharpened—the soft rasp of rope when he adjusted it, the creak of the bed as he knelt closer, the catch of his breath.

You felt his mouth on your cheek. Then your throat. Then just beneath your ear.

“Still okay?”

“Yes,” you whispered, already breathless. “Please…”

The air shifted. The mattress dipped between your thighs as he settled there, knees brushing yours. You could feel the heat of him—radiating from his chest, his stomach, his breath ghosting along your skin like fog on glass.

His metal fingers traced the rope where it wrapped your wrists. Down your arms. Across your hips. The contrast was electric—cold glinting over warm flesh, all sensation amplified by the dark.

“You look like a fucking dream,” he whispered, almost reverent. “Tied up so pretty for me.”

Your back arched instinctively, pulling against the restraint just to feel it. The tension. The ache. The longing.

“Say it again,” you begged.

He kissed your inner thigh.

“My good girl,” he breathed. “My sweet, obedient little doll.”

You whimpered.

“I’m gonna take care of you now,” he said, voice just above a growl. “Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. Just relax. Let me.”

And you did.

You surrendered.

To him. To the ropes. To the trust you knew would never be broken.

—

You could feel his breath against your inner thigh, just shy of your panties.

His hands—one warm, one cool—rested on your knees, keeping them spread just slightly wider. Just enough to remind you that you weren’t going anywhere.

Not with the knots he’d tied.

Not with how completely he had you.

He was quiet for a moment. Studying you.

You heard the soft shift of fabric as he adjusted on the bed, and then that voice—low, smooth, the one that always came right before he broke you down entirely—slipped into the dark:

“You do not give orders tonight, sweetheart.”

Your breath caught.

“You don’t ask me to touch you. You don’t tell me when. Or how.”

His hand moved—slowly, palm dragging up the inside of your thigh, not quite touching where you ached, but close enough to make you tremble.

“You lie there, and you take what I give you. Understood?”

“Yes, B—”

The hand stopped. Fingers dug in slightly.

You froze.

“Wanna try that again?” His tone didn’t rise. He didn’t need to yell. He never did. That voice, low and deep and unrelenting, could split you open with a whisper.

Your mouth parted, dry.

“Yes… Sergeant Barnes.”

A beat of silence. Then he hummed, pleased. “Good girl.”

The words made heat coil in your belly. Your hips shifted on instinct, pulling against the ropes at your ankles. They held perfectly. His knots, tight and clean, didn’t give an inch. You were spread and exposed, but safe. Completely his.

“Hands okay?” he murmured, his voice briefly returning to that gentler shade.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Not too tight.”

“Good. They won’t loosen,” he said, almost to himself. “Not until I say so.”

Then his mouth pressed against your thigh—slow, warm kisses trailing upward, and the fabric of your panties barely brushed by his stubble. He paused right before your center, exhaling into the damp heat there.

You whimpered.

“Look at you. Dripping,” he said, voice like syrup over ice. “And I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

You squirmed in the ropes.

“Still,” he barked. Not loud. But sharp. Final.

Your muscles stilled instantly.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you breathed. “Please.”

“Oh, now you remember,” he said with a dark smile.

Then he moved—dragging his tongue slowly along the inner edge of your thigh, avoiding where you wanted him most. Your hips jerked involuntarily.

He pulled back.

“Tsk. That’s not staying still.”

“Please—”

“Please what?”

You swallowed. “Please touch me, Sergeant Barnes.”

There was silence. Delicious, torturous silence. Then:

“No.”

The word hit you like a jolt.

You whimpered, straining against the ropes again. You weren’t sure if the ache between your legs or the ache of denial was worse—but both of them burned.

“I think,” he said, slowly running a fingertip along the waistband of your panties, “you forgot your place for a second. Thought you were in charge.”

His thumb slipped beneath the fabric, teasing along the crease of your thigh. Not enough. Never enough.

“You’re gonna lie here, dripping and desperate, until I decide you’ve earned more.”

“James—” You whined.

“That’s two.”

You stiffened.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, breath warm and full of promise. “Slip my name again, and I’ll keep you tied up, untouched, so long you’ll forget what it felt like to come.”

You gasped, back arching against the mattress.

“Y-Yes, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Good girl,” he murmured again, and this time, his hand did press between your legs. Palm down. Just pressure.

You moaned—long and low—as he rocked his hand slowly against you, over the lace. The friction made you twitch, legs trembling. Your wrists flexed instinctively—but the ropes held, unyielding.

“You look so fucking perfect like this,” he said. “Tied up. Helpless. Dripping.”

And then—finally—he slid your panties aside.

Cool air rushed across soaked skin.

Then his fingers—two of them, thick and warm—slid between your folds, slow, smooth, claiming.

Your entire body jerked.

He held your hip with his metal hand, keeping you down.

“No running,” he said softly. “You take what I give you.”

“Y-Yes, Sergeant Barnes.”

The teasing—this unbearable edge between worship and control—was everything. He stroked you lazily, never speeding up. Just circling your clit with infuriating precision, dipping into you and dragging slick back up to start again.

Your thighs trembled.

“Such a sweet little mess already,” he murmured. “How long d’you think you’ll last, baby?”

“I—I don’t know—”

“Think we should find out?”

You whimpered, nodding helplessly into the blindfold.

“Color?”

“Green,” you gasped.

And he smiled, dark and pleased, like the soldier inside him had been starving for this kind of surrender.

“Good,” he said.

And then his mouth was on you.

—

He ate you like he had all night.

Like he had something to prove.

Like he’d starve if he didn’t make you come with nothing but his mouth.

His lips, his tongue—deliberate, slow, devastating. He held your thighs open with firm hands, anchoring your hips down as he mouthed over your folds. You gasped, body arching—ropes straining as your ankles flexed against them. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t run. Couldn’t breathe.

You were shaking.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you cried, voice trembling.

He groaned against your pussy—deep, sending vibration through your core—but didn’t stop. Not yet. Not until your thighs were shaking and your stomach was coiling tight, that white-hot bloom already rising—

“Close,” you gasped. “I—please, I’m—!”

And then—he pulled back.

Completely.

You whimpered, the sound guttural. Desperate. Your body writhing under the ropes, the orgasm ripped away before it could crest.

“No—no, please—” You tugged helplessly at your restraints. “Why—?”

You felt the mattress shift, his weight rising. Then his mouth was near your ear again, warm and maddening.

“You don’t come until I say so,” he growled. “Understand?”

You whimpered. “Yes, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” you sobbed, breathless.

“Good girl.”

And then his lips were on your breast—dragging across lace. Teasing, hot, humid breaths making you arch beneath him. His metal hand slid under your back, lifting your chest toward his mouth as his teeth grazed your nipple through the bra.

“Pretty little tits,” he muttered, voice like gravel. “Bet they’d look even better wrapped up for me.”

You trembled.

And that’s when he shifted again.

“On your feet.”

You blinked, confused, still half-dazed from denial. “Sergeant?”

He was already loosening your wrist ropes—but not untying them. He kept the knots intact, working them with speed and precision, metal fingers moving with masterful ease.

“You’re gonna stand for me,” he murmured. “Let me see you from every angle.”

Once your wrists were free, he helped guide you upright. You swayed on shaky legs, but he held you—one strong hand gripping your waist until you found balance.

You were still blindfolded. Still in your lace bra and panties. Still dripping and aching.

But then—his hands came to your back.

Not rough. Not rushed. Just a gentle graze of fingertips against the clasp of your bra.

“Off,” he said softly, but there was no mistaking the order.

You shivered as he undid the hooks one by one, letting the straps slip down your shoulders, fabric falling away. His hand swept the lace aside with reverence, baring your chest completely.

The cool air kissed your skin, and you inhaled sharply.

“Needed to see you properly,” he murmured. “Gonna tie you up real pretty now.”

Then Bucky guided your wrists above your head again, backing you up slowly until your shoulders bumped gently into the edge of the tall wardrobe at the corner of the room. You felt his hands lift yours—then the soft drag of rope over the wooden frame, threading expertly around the handles at the top.

He worked quickly, efficiently—looping and knotting in practiced silence.

“Hold still,” he murmured. “Almost there.”

The pull was firm. Your wrists were now secured above you, anchored to the wardrobe doors—just high enough to stretch your arms, just tight enough to make you feel owned.

He hadn’t planned this. But God, he made it look like he had.

He stepped back to admire you.

You couldn’t see him, but you felt his eyes like heat.

“Fucking beautiful.”

His fingers ghosted down your ribcage. Then across your stomach. Then up… and around.

The rope slid against your skin again, new coils this time. Smooth, strong, wrapping beneath and over your chest—circling your breasts in a criss-cross weave. Bucky moved deliberately, guiding the rope under your arms, then between the swells of your now-bare chest. You gasped as he pulled—not harsh, just enough to lift and frame you in knotted tension.

He tied it off with one last flourish: a perfect little bow nestled right beneath the valley of your breasts.

“For me,” he murmured. “My own personal present.”

You moaned softly.

“You alright?” he asked then, still checking. Always checking.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Still green.”

He kissed your jaw, then down to your shoulder. “Good.”

Then his hands cupped your breasts, gently, slowly squeezing—his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the lace and rope both. The dual sensation was electric. Your body shuddered against the bindings, held upright and helpless.

“You make the prettiest noises when I deny you,” he said softly, lips brushing your skin between words. “Might keep you like this a little longer.”

You gasped as he pinched gently, just enough to make you tremble.

“Sergeant Barnes—please—please…”

He chuckled darkly. “You’re gonna have to be real convincing, sweetheart. Because I could do this all night.”

And he meant it.

Because he didn’t get tired.

And because he wasn’t done yet.

—

His mouth was back on you.

Lapping, slow, relentless. Not building this time—but dragging you across the same raw nerve again and again. You were still tied to the wardrobe, blindfolded, trembling—hips twitching with every stroke of his tongue. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

Your body was beyond ready.

Too ready.

You were so sensitive, each touch from him felt like a jolt—sweet and sharp, pleasure braided with ache. Your thighs flexed with every pass of his tongue. His stubble scraped lightly against your inner thighs, grounding you in every moment.

“Can’t take—” you choked out. “Please, Sergeant—I can’t—”

He only hummed into you.

Your knees nearly buckled.

You moaned and twisted in the ropes, muscles locking, toes curling. You were so close—but the tension made it hurt. The pleasure came wrapped in a raw edge now. You gasped, head tilting back against the wardrobe, chest heaving in your lace and rope harness.

“Please,” you begged again—softer this time, fragile, your voice cracking. “Please—Sergeant—hurts—hurts—”

Everything went still.

Instantly.

You felt his hands—one metal, one flesh—on your hips. Holding you. Steadying you.

Then his mouth lifted, and he spoke—his voice low, soft, but still firm. Still him.

“You still with me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, panting. “Y-Yeah. Green. Just—sensitive. Too much.”

He kissed your hipbone. Then your lower belly.

“You’re doing so fucking well for me,” he murmured, gentler now. “Took everything like a goddamn angel.”

His hands slid between your thighs, this time with purpose.

“You want me to finish you, doll?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Sergeant Barnes—need it so bad—need you.”

A pause. Then—

“Color?”

“Green,” you gasped. “Please... please—please.”

His metal hand slid between your legs, thick fingers spreading you open, cool and deliberate.

You barely had time to brace.

One finger pushed in—then two.

Then three.

You moaned, hands fisting uselessly in the rope above your head.

Then—four.

You cried out.

The stretch burned and bloomed at once. Cool steel filled you, deeper than you’d ever been touched. He curled his fingers just so, and you shattered—legs shaking, thighs clenching, cries slipping raw from your throat.

“That’s it,” he whispered, lips close to your temple. “Come for me, baby. Come on my hand. Let go.”

And you did.

It surged through you like fire—hot and wet and overwhelming. Your knees buckled, held only by the ropes and his grip. Your whole body convulsed against the bindings, and all you could do was moan.

He kissed your cheek, then dragged his fingers slowly from you.

“So beautiful,” he said, voice reverent. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

Then—he brought his hand to your lips.

“Open.”

You obeyed.

Cool metal touched your tongue—coated in slick, tasting of you. You moaned as he pressed his fingers against your lips, and he leaned in to kiss you at the same time, messy and deep. Your taste spread between you, sticky and intimate.

When he pulled back, you were breathless—barely clinging to the afterglow.

But he wasn’t done.

His hand returned to your chest—the rope harness still framing your breasts in neat, deliberate loops. You felt him tug.

Tighter.

The pressure surged, sudden and perfect.

You cried out again—a sharp, broken moan as your nipples stiffened, hypersensitive.

“God,” he breathed. “You take it so well. All tied up, chest heaving, face flushed—fuck, baby.”

He tightened the final knot just enough to send sparks dancing behind your eyes.

“Mine,” he whispered.

You whimpered. “Yours.”

Finally, finally—he touched your blindfold.

The silk slipped away, and the room returned in soft golden blur—warm light, and him in front of you.

Bucky, flushed and firm-jawed, eyes dark and aching with need. His white tank clung to his chest, damp with sweat, and the outline of his cock was straining thick and hard against his black sweatpants.

“Look at me,” he said, voice rough. “You’ve earned it.”

He reached up and loosened the rope from your wrists, guiding them down gently. Your arms ached. He held them in his hands, kissed your knuckles. You swayed against him.

“Now,” he growled, stepping back just slightly—eyes dropping to his waistband. “On your knees.”

You sank instantly, dizzy with obedience.

“Pull my pants down.”

Your fingers trembled, but you obeyed. You gripped the waistband, dragging his sweats and briefs down together—and there he was. Hard, flushed, thick and dripping at the tip.

“Stroke me, sweetheart,” he said, voice barely holding together. “Nice and slow. Look at me while you do.”

You wrapped your hand around him, fingers sliding over velvet skin and thick, aching weight. His cock pulsed in your grip. His head dropped back, and he moaned—low, strained, almost pained.

“Fuck, baby… just like that. So good. So perfect.”

And when his eyes met yours again—dark and molten, flickering with every last bit of restraint he had left—you knew:

He was yours.

And he was about to fall apart for you.

—

His cock pulsed in your hand.

You could barely close your fingers around him—thick and hot, swollen with need. A bead of precum slipped from the tip, and you swiped your thumb through it slowly, spreading it around the sensitive head. He hissed through clenched teeth.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You look so good like this. My sweet little civilian. On your knees for your Sergeant.”

You felt yourself clench, body still trembling from your own orgasm. The ropes around your chest still cradled your breasts—tight, lifted, your nipples flushed and swollen inside the lace.

“Open,” he ordered.

You did.

Lips parted, tongue out, eyes wide.

But just before you leaned in, his voice dropped—deeper, darker.

“No sounds.”

You blinked.

He brushed the back of his hand across your cheek. “You moan, whimper, even breathe too heavy, and I’ll tighten those sweet little nipples until you remember how to stay quiet.”

Your breath hitched.

But you nodded. “Yes, Sergeant Barnes.”

And then you wrapped your lips around him.

The taste—heady, salt-slick, impossibly good. Your tongue worked slowly over the underside, dragging against that sensitive ridge as you took him deeper. The weight of him on your tongue made your thighs press together instinctively.

He groaned. Loud. Rough. His hips rocked forward, just slightly.

And you couldn’t help it.

You moaned around him.

Soft. Just a breath.

But he noticed.

IIn an instant, you felt his hand reach down—fingers brushing the curve of your chest, then dipping beneath the taut rope harness. He cupped one breast firmly, then let his thumb and forefinger pinch your nipple through the lace—light at first. A warning.

You whimpered again.

The pinch tightened.

You gasped softly around his cock.

He didn’t stop.

Other hand now—metal fingers cold and precise, rolling the other nipple just a little tighter, tugging gently. Pain bloomed under the pleasure, sharp and hot.

You tried to focus. Tried to breathe through your nose. Tried not to moan when his cock twitched on your tongue, salty and slick.

But another sound slipped.

“Mm—”

The pinch intensified.

You cried out, pulling back with a small hiss—this one real. Not performative. Not playful.

It hurt.

Too much.

Instantly, his hands dropped.

His voice changed. “Hey—hey, hey. Baby—” Softer now. Gentle. “I’m sorry. Let me see.”

You looked up. His brows were drawn, mouth parted. He crouched down in front of you, hands already untying the bow at your chest, pulling the rope harness down gently so he could cradle your breasts in his palms.

His thumbs brushed your nipples carefully, inspecting.

“Shit, sweetheart—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m okay,” you whispered, heart still racing. “Just… too sensitive. Still coming down.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I pushed too far. That’s on me.”

Your fingers lifted to his jaw. “It’s okay, Sergeant,” you said softly, voice full of mischief and invitation. “Stay in character.”

His eyes flickered—heat returning, but tempered by something softer. A slow exhale rolled through him. He nodded once.

You smiled, then leaned forward again.

You kissed the head of his cock—slow, delicate.

Your tongue swirled around it, featherlight, teasing. You kept your eyes on him, stroking him from base to tip while your mouth played at the crown. Not deep yet. Just wet, soft licks, and the steady glide of your palm along his thick shaft.

Bucky hissed. His abdomen tensed. “Fuck, baby…”

You dragged your tongue across the slit, tasting the salt of him.

Then down the underside—slow, deliberate—while your fist tightened slightly, twisting just enough to make him curse under his breath.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart. Look at you.”

You moaned quietly this time, not enough to break rules—but just enough to let him feel it.

Your tongue flattened again, mouth closing over the tip while you stroked him in rhythm. You could feel him twitching in your palm now, see the flush climbing his chest, his abs tensing with every breath.

His hand threaded into your hair—not to force you, but to feel you.

To anchor himself in you.

“Keep going,” he growled, voice cracking. “Don’t stop. You’re—fuck, you’re perfect.”

Your other hand came to rest on his hipbone for balance as you picked up speed—mouth wetter, strokes tighter, sucking him just to the edge and easing off.

You wanted him to fall apart.

You wanted to be the reason.

And from the way his jaw clenched, the way his thighs started to tremble, you were close.

So fucking close.

Your tongue circled the head of his cock again—slow, teasing. You stroked him tighter now, fist pumping in rhythm with your mouth. He was so close you could feel it—his hips twitching, his hand tightening in your hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart—fuck, I’m gonna—”

You didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow.

You wanted it.

With a ragged groan, Bucky’s hips jerked—thick, hot ropes of cum spilling onto your tongue as you took him as deep as you could, your throat flexing around him. He groaned again, louder, head falling back, abs trembling.

You held it. Every drop.

He looked down at you, panting, voice still breathless but laced with command.

“Stand up.”

Your legs were shaky, your muscles still strung tight from before—but you obeyed. You rose slowly to your feet, lips still closed, his taste heavy on your tongue.

He reached for your waist to steady you—his touch both grounding and possessive. He tilted your chin up with two fingers.

“Don’t swallow,” he ordered, voice low, eyes locked on yours. “Not until you’re looking at me.”

Your eyes—half-lidded, dazed—met his.

He smirked, satisfied.

“Good girl.”

You swallowed.

He exhaled slowly, his palm brushing your jaw, then cupping your cheek like he couldn’t help it. The look in his eyes had shifted—less fire, more warmth. But he was still Sergeant Barnes. Still your sergeant.

Then something changed.

His gaze dropped.

His thumb brushed a faint, reddish bruise around your wrist where the rope had held you tight. He turned your arm slightly, inspecting the other one—same marks. His brow creased.

Then he crouched, fingers trailing down your leg to the flushed indentation circling your ankle—the place the rope had dug in while keeping you wide open for him. He pressed there gently, then looked up again, jaw tight.

Finally, his gaze moved to your chest.

He reached up, fingertips ghosting over the places where the rope harness had pressed into your skin—framing your breasts, pulled taut around your ribs. Even beneath the lace of your bra, the skin was marked: soft pink lines curving beneath each swell, rising along your sternum.

His touch lingered there. Slower now. Guilt ghosting behind his eyes.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

You nodded—but he still looked conflicted.

“I didn’t mean to mark you this much,” he said, quieter now. “I wasn’t thinking—I should’ve—”

“You did everything right,” you interrupted, stepping in closer. “I asked for it. I still want it.”

He looked at you, searching. Hesitant.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He blinked.

“In the ropes,” you added, voice barely a whisper. “Like… really tied. Not soft this time.”

He went completely still.

“Just this once,” you whispered. “Please.”

He swallowed, jaw tightening. That same battle behind his eyes—the one he always lost when it came to you.

He sighed.

Long. Heavy. Resigned.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Then his eyes lifted again—and they’d changed.

Gone soft to steel in a breath.

“Alright,” he said, stepping toward you, voice low and sure. “You want tied, sweetheart?”

You nodded.

“You want to be used?”

Another nod. Breathless.

He moved behind you, and you felt the rope brush your skin again—familiar now, sacred. He kissed your shoulder, then bent down, whispering by your ear.

“Then Sergeant Barnes is gonna ruin you.”

And this time?

You welcomed it.

His breath lingered at your neck, warm and steady. His fingers skimmed your waist, then reached for the rope again—sliding it through his palm like it belonged there.

But then he paused.

You felt it—not hesitation, exactly, but calculation.

His voice came quieter now, still dark with command, but tinged with thought.

“…This’ll be easier if I anchor the rope under the bed.”

You blinked, breath hitching. “Sergeant?”

“I’ve never done a full-bed setup like this. Not properly. And if I’m gonna wreck you,” he said, tugging your body tighter against his, “we’re doing it right.”

He reached for his phone on the dresser—one hand still on your hip.

You turned, half-laughing, flushed. “Are we seriously—”

“Quiet,” he said, tapping the screen. “Sergeant Barnes is researching.”

You bit your lip.

He opened YouTube.

You watched, still half-naked, the breast harness now back in place—tied tighter than before, with that perfect little bow beneath your breasts—as he searched for a video like it was part of a mission briefing.

“…‘Ten-Minute Bed Bind Tutorial’?”

“I like to be thorough,” he muttered.

“Bucky—”

His head snapped toward you.

You froze.

He raised an eyebrow. “Try again.”

You swallowed, lips twitching. “Sergeant Barnes.”

His smirk returned.

He pressed play.

—

Two minutes and thirty seconds later:

Rope across the headboard. Ankles spread. Wrists retied. Rope loops secured under the mattress in perfect symmetry. He’d adjusted everything to fit the frame, then added two anchor points at your thighs—not to bind them, but to keep them open.

“Video said ten minutes,” he muttered, tugging the last knot into place. “Took me two.”

You swallowed. Hard.

He stepped back to admire you.

You were flat on your back, arms bound above your head, legs spread wide. The ropes pressed against your wrists, your ankles, even the bend of your thighs. Your chest was framed by the harness—tight, elevated, perfect.

You looked like a gift.

He looked like he wanted to unwrap you slowly, then ruin you completely.

His voice dropped. “Color?”

“Green,” you breathed.

And just like that, his gaze darkened.

He climbed onto the bed, straddling your thighs. One knee pressed between your legs, widening your bound position further.

He didn’t kiss you.

He marked you.

Teeth at your neck. A slow suck against your collarbone. A lingering bruise beneath your jawline. Every place he touched was not a kiss—it was a warning.

You whimpered.

He froze.

“You making noise already?” he asked, voice slow and dangerous. “I haven’t even touched your pussy yet.”

You bit your lip. “Sorry, Sergeant—”

His fingers grabbed the rope at your hips and gave it a sharp tug.

The restraint pulled tighter, forcing your thighs open, arching your spine. You gasped at the sudden tension, breath snagging in your chest.

“That’s what happens when you disobey,” he growled. “Tighter. Less movement. No friction.”

Then, cruelly—he slid his hand between your thighs.

But didn’t touch.

“Try grinding again,” he warned. “See how that ends for you.”

You whimpered again—couldn’t help it—and he dipped his head back down, lips dragging along your sternum, following the path of the rope.

He left another hickey between the curves of your breasts.

Then lower.

Then lower.

You bit your tongue to stay silent as his mouth worked downward, every kiss staking another claim. Every mark a punishment you craved.

“I’m gonna edge you until your voice breaks,” he whispered, breath hot against your panties. “And if I hear one sound—just one—I’ll pull these ropes so tight you’ll forget how to breathe.”

You nodded—eyes wide, breath locked in your throat.

“Good girl.”

Then his mouth pressed against your soaked lace.

Hot. Open. Slow.

And you were already trembling again.

—

You were already soaked.

Already trembling.

And he hadn’t even pulled your panties aside yet.

His breath coasted over the lace—hot, deliberate. You felt it more than heard it: the moment his mouth pressed flat against you. Open-lipped. A slow grind of heat and tongue that made your back arch involuntarily, ropes pulling at your wrists and ankles.

Still, you stayed quiet.

You had to.

His tongue slid along the edge of the lace, teasing the damp spot that had grown and spread—and when he pushed the fabric aside, he groaned low.

“Dripping.”

You whimpered.

He paused.

His lips brushed your thigh, then your hip. “That a sound of pain?”

You shook your head furiously, biting your lip.

“No, Sergeant,” you gasped, barely whispering. “Just… overwhelmed.”

“Good.”

And then he dove in again.

His mouth was sin itself—his tongue dragging slowly up your folds, circling your clit in perfect pressure, and then backing off again. Not enough. Never enough.

Your legs trembled, straining against the ropes. Every part of you ached for more, and still—you didn’t make a sound.

Until—

Your breath hitched.

A sharp, strangled inhale—not from pleasure, but something sharper.

He stopped instantly.

Pulled back.

“Sweetheart?” he said, and the voice wasn’t Sergeant anymore. It was Bucky. Gentle. Threadbare. “Too much?”

You shook your head, blinking back tears. “Just sensitive.”

He smoothed his hand over your thigh, kissing the inside of your knee.

“You still want to keep going?”

“Yes. Please.”

His gaze flicked over your body again. The rope marks. Your trembling. Your patience. Your trust.

“Gonna take care of you now,” he whispered. “Gonna go slow. Just feel me.”

He shifted on the bed, weight dipping between your thighs, and you felt the warm, heavy press of him lining up against your entrance—bare, thick, and aching to be inside you.

Still tied.

Still wide open.

Still his.

He pushed in slowly—inch by inch—watching you the entire time. His cock stretched you gradually, thick and hot, forcing your body to yield around him.

You moaned—not loud, just deep. Raw.

“You okay?”

“Y-Yeah.”

He kissed your forehead.

Then your lips.

Then stayed still.

“You feel like heaven,” he whispered. “So tight. So fucking perfect. I’m gonna move now, alright?”

You nodded.

And he did.

Gentle at first. Controlled. Like every thrust was a thank you for your trust. For the ropes. For the silence. For letting him ruin you.

He reached down, his metal thumb brushing over your clit in soft, slow circles, and you shattered around him—moaning against the rope, breath broken, body shaking beneath him.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “That’s it. That’s it.”

And when your body finally stilled—aftershocks pulsing through your thighs—he slowed again.

Paused.

His forehead rested against yours.

“…Can we let go of the ropes now?” he asked softly. “Just for the rest of it. I just wanna hold you.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

He kissed you.

Then gently—so gently—untied your wrists first, kissing the marks. Then your ankles. Then the breast harness, easing each loop free, his hands slow and reverent. He tossed the rope aside. You were bare again. Just you and him. No bindings. No roles. Just two bodies flushed with need, breathing in tandem.

And you were ready.

—

He flipped you onto your stomach, then lifted your hips slightly, easing a pillow beneath you. Your body melted against the sheets, pliant and warm.

He slid back in from behind—deeper now, unrestrained, hips pressing flush against your ass with every push. The thrusts were heavier, hungrier. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging in—not to bruise, but to anchor.

Skin met skin. The sound of it echoed in the room, heady and obscene.

“God, baby,” he growled, voice ragged with heat. “You take me so well. You’re so fucking good for me.”

You moaned, louder now, gasping his name—no more ranks, no more games. Just Bucky.

He didn’t mind.

Not anymore.

One hand slid up your spine, palm warm against your back. He leaned over you, lips brushing your shoulder, and whispered, “I’ve got you. All of you.”

You whimpered—because you knew it was true.

Then he slowed, hips pulling back.

“Ride me,” he rasped. “Wanna watch you fall apart.”

You turned, breathless and trembling, and climbed over him—straddling his lap in reverse, thighs spread wide over his. His cock slid in again, thick and hot, your body molding to him like it had been made for it.

You rocked your hips.

He groaned, hands clenching at your waist. Then your ass. Then up to your breasts, cupping them from behind, lifting them, thumbs brushing your nipples.

“Just like that, baby. Fuck—just like that.”

You bounced. Slowly at first, then with rhythm. You were soaked. Sore. So blissfully full.

You felt another orgasm mounting—deep, dizzying, your core clenching tight. He felt it too—the way your walls fluttered, the way your thighs shook.

“Come for me,” he gasped. “I wanna feel it—wanna feel all of it.”

And you did.

Hard.

You cried out, the sound ragged and raw, your body convulsing around him as pleasure tore through you like a wave.

You collapsed forward, catching yourself on shaky hands. He followed—gripping your hips, thrusting up into you once, twice—then spilling inside with a low, broken groan.

But he wasn’t finished.

He pulled you down beside him, kissing you hard—tongue slow and sweet against yours.

Then he flipped you again, pulling your leg up over his shoulder. He pushed in from the side this time, deep and slow, hitting a new angle that made your whole body arch off the sheets.

You gasped. “Fuck—Bucky—”

He growled your name against your throat. “Can’t get enough of you. Need all of you.”

He rocked into you, fingers sliding to your clit—lazy circles while he moved inside, deeper with every stroke. You clenched around him again, tears pricking your eyes from the overload.

Then he pulled out again and laid back, breath shallow. “On top of me. Face me this time.”

You straddled him again, facing him now. You slid down onto him, and the look he gave you—the pure reverence in his eyes—made your chest ache.

You rode him slow. Intimate.

His hands found your hips, then your thighs, then cupped your jaw.

You held eye contact as your bodies moved together—raw, unfiltered, real.

“You’re everything,” he whispered. “You’re my fucking everything.”

You kissed him through another climax. Your body clenching, thighs shaking.

And then he came again—softer this time. Less control. Just need.

You stayed there, chest pressed to his, lips brushing his jaw as he caught his breath.

Then, tenderly, he tucked your hair behind your ear. “Still with me, baby?”

You nodded against his chest. “Always.”

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close.

And in the warmth of tangled sheets and exhausted bodies, you both finally found rest.

—

You weren’t even sure how long you’d laid there.

Your body hummed. Spent. Boneless. Covered in a thin sheen of sweat and kisses. Muscles aching in the best way. You were splayed across Bucky’s chest, barely able to breathe—heart still galloping in your ribs, pulse fluttering weakly against his throat.

He brushed your hair back with careful fingers. His other hand rubbed your lower back in slow, grounding circles.

You shifted, blinking blearily up at him.

“Jesus Christ,” you rasped, voice wrecked.

He smiled. One of those crooked, boyish ones that made your stomach flip.

“You okay, doll?”

“No,” you whispered. “I’m officially wrecked. I’m actually broken.”

That made him chuckle, chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “Mission accomplished.”

He gently eased out of you—slow and apologetic—and you hissed slightly at the tenderness. He cupped your jaw immediately, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

“Hey. Stay here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

You nodded weakly and collapsed back against the pillows.

A few moments passed. You heard water running in the ensuite. The soft rustle of a towel.

Then Bucky returned, naked, crouching at the edge of the bed with a warmth in his eyes that made your chest ache.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmured, voice low, coaxing.

He was so careful.

He wiped between your thighs gently, whispering soft praises as he went. You whimpered once—overstimulated—and he immediately paused, planting a kiss to your hipbone.

“Sorry, baby. I know,” he said. “Almost done.”

When he finished, he helped you back under the covers and climbed in beside you. You curled into him instinctively—head tucked under his jaw, leg draped over his hip, the afterglow still crackling between your skin.

Bucky exhaled, slow and content. His fingers traced idle shapes along your side.

“You know what?” you muttered, half-slurred with exhaustion. “I’m so jealous you never get tired.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You say that like I didn’t just have the best cardio session of my life.”

You giggled, half-asleep. “Still. Not fair. You’re super soldier. I’m mortal. You’ll be ready again in ten minutes.”

He smirked. “Perks of being me. Also means I can always satisfy that pretty little appetite of yours.”

You groaned. “God, cocky and correct.”

“I prefer efficient,” he said, kissing your forehead. “And wildly devoted.”

You chuckled again, sleep dragging at your limbs. He tugged the blanket up around your shoulders, tucking you against his chest.

A quiet settled over you both. The kind that only came after total trust. After surrender.

After love.

Your breathing slowed.

He watched it happen.

Watched you drift—lips parted, lashes fluttering faintly against your cheeks. You looked worn down in the most beautiful way. Glowing. Messy. Loved.

He waited until your breathing deepened.

Then—carefully—he slid out from under you.

He padded softly to the bathroom again. Pulled open the drawer. Found the small tin of petroleum jelly Wanda had insisted everyone carry for dry skin and weird mission rashes.

He returned quietly, crouching at the edge of the bed. You didn’t stir.

He kissed your shoulder first. Then your wrist.

He traced the faint red marks there—left by the ropes. A loop, a spiral. A memory.

He dabbed the jelly gently onto the skin. Then your ankles. Then the light indentation around your ribcage and chest, where the harness had held you snug and still. He rubbed it in slow, careful strokes.

When he finished, he just looked at you for a long moment.

Then he climbed in beside you again. Pulled you into his arms.

You murmured something in your sleep—nonsense and vowels—but leaned into his chest.

Bucky smiled.

“Sleep, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’ll still be here.”

And he held you through the night.

[cupidsworstcrime]

70 Things I think about Boyfriend!Jason Todd

(f!reader)

i am so so so normal about him, I swear

1. He doesn’t bring work home

Jason has a strict no Red Hood talk in the apartment rule unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know when he’s been out rough- he limps a little, his knuckles are raw, but he’ll deflect with, “Guy at the bodega tried some shit.”

You don’t ask. He doesn’t offer. That’s the deal.

2. He’s pierced and quietly punk about it

Yeah, his ears are pierced. Probably has been since he was a teenager trying to look cool in Crime Alley. You caught him wearing your tiny silver studs one morning and when you asked about it, he grunted, “Didn’t want the holes to close.” But now? He steals them on purpose. Your favorite heart-shaped pair? Gone. He’s wearing them on patrol.

3. Jumpy as hell

You’ve learned to call his name gently if his back is to you. Sudden touches get a reaction- nothing violent, but fast. Too fast. His shoulders tense. His eyes flick to every exit like muscle memory. Sometimes he apologizes under his breath like he hates that part of himself. You just squeeze his hand and remind him he's safe here.

4. Lives on black coffee, toast, and junk unless you intervene

Left to his own devices, Jason will literally survive off diner coffee and cold toast- or worse an unholy amount of energy drinks. You started slipping protein bars and cut fruit into his bag like you were packing for a grumpy kid. He acts annoyed. He eats every bite.

5. He smells like leather, gunpowder.... and your shampoo

He started using your shampoo one day “by accident” and now he just does it on purpose. You don’t even complain because the mix of him and you is better than any perfume.

6. Stole your bracelet and won’t admit it

A dainty chain bracelet you lost months ago? It's looped around the base of one of his pistols now, dangling like a charm. When you spot it and raise an eyebrow, he just shrugs:

“Must’ve fallen into my bag.”

“You expect me to believe-”

“Guess you shouldn’t leave your stuff lying around, sweetheart.”

He’s never giving it back. That’s his lucky charm now.

7. Clings in his sleep

He’d never admit it, but he’s a stage-4 clinger. Arm around your waist, face tucked against your shoulder, legs tangled. If you get up to pee, he’ll grumble in his sleep and roll into the warm spot you left behind like a human furnace.

8. Won’t say “I need you,” but he shows it

He fixes your sink at 2 a.m. because it dripped once. He tracks your location “for safety” (but it makes him breathe easier). If you’re late texting back, he spirals internally but never shows it- just casually drops by, “coincidentally,” to check on you.

He won’t say “I need you.” But he shows it. Every damn day.

9. Sings along to old records while cleaning

You caught him once deep-cleaning his guns while singing quietly to a scratchy vinyl playing old blues rock. You didn’t say anything. Just listened. It felt like church.

10. Says “I’m not good at this” but is good at this

He thinks he’s bad at love. He thinks he’s bad at being normal. But he kisses your forehead when you’re sick, folds your laundry weird but tries, and reads the same book five times because it’s your favorite.

He’s good at love. In all the ways that matter.

11. “I love a man in leather” ruined him forever

It started as a joke- you said it with a wink, barely teasing. But Jason? He froze. Blinked. Filed it away. And then that night, lying in bed, stared at the ceiling thinking about all the tactical leather he already owned.

The next time he came home from patrol, he stood awkwardly in the doorway, helmet in hand.

“...Do you like it when I wear the jacket?”

You smirked. He blushed. And that was the beginning of the end.

12. He was pretty sure he was vanilla. He was wrong.

Jason always thought he was a “lights off, soft kisses” kind of guy. And he still is- but now there’s rope in his bedside drawer, wrist cuffs under the bed, and a vague working knowledge of Shibari. He’s not saying it’s all your fault.

But it is.

13. He only lets himself explore it with you

You’re the only one he trusts enough to see that side of him. He’s not used to feeling safe being vulnerable- even when he’s the one in control. But with you? He can breathe. He can ask. He can learn.

And when you look up at him with love and hunger in your eyes, he doesn’t feel like a monster- he feels wanted.

14. He absolutely panicked the first time he said “Good girl”

It slipped out. He didn’t plan it. He just said it in the heat of the moment and you moaned. Hard.

Jason’s brain blue-screened.

He froze for a solid three seconds and whispered, “...Did you like that?”

You nodded.

He never stopped saying it after that. Still says it like it’s sacred.

15. But outside the bedroom? He's still the shyest little freak about it

You: *teasing him at dinner with a wink*

Jason: *choking on his water and glaring at you like he’s been caught committing crimes*

You: “Baby, you literally tied me up last night.”

Jason: “Keep your voice down!”

16. Leather jacket is now permanently associated with you getting handsy

It’s your fault. Every time he wears the jacket, you get a look in your eye like you’re about to climb him like a tree.

Now he can’t put it on without a smug smirk and the quiet thought: She’s gonna pounce.

17. He’ll never go to a sex store in person, but he’s got a burner account online

Jason Todd has a burner account with expedited shipping and privacy wrapping because he’s too much of a shy little freak (to everyones suprise) to risk being seen browsing handcuffs in person.

You caught him once comparing reviews on two different floggers, reading so seriously you'd think it was a medical journal. He blushed hard when you snuck up behind him.

18. Aftercare king

No matter how dark or rough it gets, he’s the most tender man afterward. Holds you close. Kisses your shoulders. Runs you a bath and washes your hair like it’s a ritual.

“Did I go too far?”

“No, Jay. You were perfect.”

And he just melts, forehead against your shoulder, whispering: “Okay. Good.”

19. Still folds towels wrong. Still starts fake fights about it.

He'll tie you up with perfect knots but can't fold a towel for shit. You don't know how the two coexist. He’s a contradiction you’re obsessed with.

20. One time he called himself your “bad boy” and immediately cringed

He was trying to be flirty.

He meant it ironically.

He said, “You like your bad boy in leather, huh?” and then groaned halfway through it like he regretted every word.

You burst out laughing.

He kissed you to shut you up.

He's 'Bad Boy 🎀' in your phone now and he hates loves it.

21. He is so dramatic when he’s sick

This man has literally died. He’s been shot, stabbed, blown up.

But give him a head cold? And he is bedridden. Blanket burrito. Groaning like he’s on his deathbed. Whispering, “Tell Alfred… I fought bravely…” before blowing his nose with your nice hand towel.

22. “I’m fine.” - a blatant lie

He’ll cough so hard he bends over double, then straighten up like nothing happened.

“You need rest-”

“I’m fine.”

“You sound like a dying engine.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Yeah. And? That doesn’t mean he should be eating cereal for dinner and refusing to take cold meds.

23. He won’t admit it but he’s needy as hell

He doesn’t ask. Not directly. But his head ends up in your lap. He “accidentally” falls asleep curled against your side. He mumbles your name mid-fever dream, eyes fluttering open and searching for you.

You bring him soup, and he blinks at you like you’ve just saved his soul.

24. Absolutely pouts if you leave the room too long

He’ll be half-asleep, but the second you get up to do anything- laundry, pee, breathe -he’ll grunt, shift dramatically, and mumble,

“…Thought you left me to die.”

You roll your eyes. “I was gone for two minutes.”

“Could’ve been the end.”

15. He’s warm. Like a human furnace

Fevers don’t just make him sick- they make him clingy and overheat-y. He’ll wrap himself around you like a weighted blanket and then get mad when you complain about sweating.

“I’m literally melting, Jason.”

“I’m dying, but go off I guess.”

26. Gets oddly philosophical when medicated

One dose of NyQuil and he’s pondering the meaning of mortality and if souls really go to heaven.

“You think if I died again, you’d still love me?”

“Jason. Baby. Please take a nap.”

27. Claims he doesn’t remember any of it once he’s better

You mention how cute he was? The way he asked for more soup with a soft “please” and big sleepy eyes?

“I don’t recall,” he says.

You show him a video? “Deep fake.”

Catches you giggling? “You’re making shit up. I’m a menace. I don’t cuddle.”

28. But secretly? He loves how you take care of him

He didn’t get this, growing up. No one ever rubbed circles on his back or checked his temperature with a kiss. He doesn’t know how to ask for it… but god, he soaks it up when you give it anyway.

It’s healing in more ways than one.

29. When you get sick later? He panics

Oh suddenly he’s a nurse. Full-time. Soup. Blankets. Calls in favors from actual doctors he knows.

“Baby, it’s just a sore throat-”

“No. No. I’ve seen this before. It starts with a sore throat. Next thing you know, you’re in a Lazarus Pit.”

30. One time he sneezed in his helmet and you never let him live it down

He didn’t take it off in time. It echoed. It was tragic.

You laughed so hard you cried.

He glared at you with the most long-suffering expression of his life and muttered,

“This is why I work alone.”

31. He warns you the first time things get serious

It’s not the mask that’s hard to take off. It’s the shirt.

The first time you're undressing each other, he pauses, hands shaking slightly as he pulls back.

“I should warn you,” he says.

And then quieter:

“It’s bad.”

32. He avoids mirrors when he’s shirtless

Not just because of the usual trauma- but because sometimes he catches his reflection and flinches. The Y-shaped autopsy scar down his chest is brutal. Surgical. Cold.

It reminds him of what he was: a body on a slab. A lost cause.

Not a man. Not a lover. Just evidence.

33. He expects you to look away

Even as he undresses, he’s already bracing for it- for the flicker in your eyes, the pity or horror or discomfort.

He stares at the wall. Waits for the silence. Waits for the shift in the way you breathe.

34. You don’t look away. Not even a little.

Your touch is reverent. Your lips follow the trail of old scars like a prayer.

“You’re beautiful,” you say.

Jason’s chest stutters, and he doesn’t believe you- not really -but he wants to.

God, he wants to.

35. He never turns the lights on during sex. Until you ask him to.

He’s okay in shadows. He’s safe in them.

But one night, you whisper, “Let me see you,” and something in him breaks open.

He lets the light touch all the places he hides.

And your hands never flinch.

36. His scars are sensitive

Especially the big ones. Sometimes they itch. Sometimes they burn.

But when your fingers trace them? It’s grounding. Calming. Makes him feel like maybe he can own this body again.

37. One time, you kissed his chest and he teared up

He didn’t mean to. It just happened.

You didn’t say anything- just held him while he breathed through it. And that silence? That softness? It meant more than any words could.

38. You bought him a new mirror one day. He stared at it for weeks before using it.

It was taller. Nicer. Framed in soft wood. When he finally stood in front of it with you, he didn’t look away.

You stood behind him, arms around his waist, and he whispered,

“…I don’t hate it as much. When you’re in the picture.”

39. He traces your body the same way now

All the places you’re soft, he worships. All the places you’ve ever been insecure- he sees none of it.

“Look at me,” he says.

“If you can love this,” he gestures to himself, “then you better let me love you.”

40. You never treat his scars like they make him broken

Because they don’t. They make him Jason. And you wouldn’t trade a single inch of him- not the roughness, not the past, not the damage.

Because under all of it, is a heart that still dares to love you back.

And that's more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen.

41. Letting it slip about the Waynes

One day, while in the middle of an argument (as one does), Jason just blurted it out.

“Okay, fine, maybe I was adopted by the Waynes!”

You froze.

“Wait. Hold up—WHAT?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a Wayne. Big surprise, right? Have fun with that one.”

"...BABY, FUCK YOU MEAN YOU'RE RELATED TO BRUCE FUCKING WAYNE?!?"

Jason just stares at you, clearly unprepared for this reaction.

“I-”

“JASON. WHAT. THE. FUCK.”

42. He immediately regrets saying it

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Jason wants to claw them back. He’s not ready to unpack that- it’s a can of worms he’s been keeping sealed tight.

But then there’s you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, looking at him like he just dropped the biggest bombshell.

“Shut up, okay? Just—just don’t bring it up ever again.”

But he knows that’s never going to happen.

43. He insists on not using any of Bruce’s money

The second he found out about the inheritance, Jason made it clear:

“I’ll never touch any of that money. It’s not mine.”

Bruce offered him more than enough, but Jason’s pride wouldn’t let him. He’d rather suffer on his own than take a single dollar from the man who, in his mind, could never truly be family.

Yet, when you need something- he can’t help but slip you a debit card once in a while, eyes narrowing as if daring you to question it.

44. Off-brand snacks and drinks, forever

You’re sitting at home one night, you reach for some chips, and Jason’s hand slaps yours away.

“No. Not those.”

He reaches into the pantry and pulls out a bag of “Chipperoni Crunchies,” not the name-brand chips, but the generic stuff. The ones that come in weird, colorful bags with cartoon characters on them.

“They taste better.”

You give him a skeptical look.

He just shrugs.

“They do.”

It’s the same with his drinks. He’ll turn his nose up at anything with a fancy label on it and will only go for store-brand cola that comes in an off-color can.

“You can’t taste the difference,” he insists, as he sips from a glass bottle, wiping the rim like he's a secret connoisseur of trash beverages.

45. He keeps a stash of “guilty pleasures” in your kitchen

No one else is allowed to see the true extent of his obsession with cheap snacks. If Alfred found out, he'd be disappointed. So he keeps it secret.

When you’re not looking, he’ll stockpile all of his guilty pleasure foods in your kitchen: neon-colored candy, microwave pizza, and prepackaged cupcakes with sprinkles that stick to your teeth in the worst way.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” he mutters, but you both know it’s inevitable.

He’s just Jason. No amount of money or Wayne prestige can make him stop being Jason.

46. The first time you tease him about it, he’s defensive

You laugh at the ridiculously large bag of "fake Cheetos" he’s just brought over.

“Don’t laugh,” he growls. “They’re better, okay?”

“Really? The fake version of Cheetos?”

“It’s called being resourceful,” he grumbles, crossing his arms like he’s trying to defend his honor.

It’s just a bag of chips, but the Wayne pride is stronger than he likes to admit.

47. He will never be caught at a five-star restaurant

You’ve tried. You’ve dragged him to fancy places, tried to get him to “treat himself” to something nice.

Jason? Never steps foot in a place like that unless it's on business- and even then, he’s glaring at the rich patrons like they're the real criminals.

His idea of a perfect date? Fast food, a cheap diner, or just takeout from his favorite hole-in-the-wall pizza place. That’s his comfort zone.

48. If you ever bought him something fancy, he’d get weird about it

You got him a really nice leather jacket once- smooth, premium quality, sleek black.

He took one look at it and immediately said, “You didn’t need to get me this, babe. I’m good with my old stuff.”

But when you weren’t looking, he stroked the soft leather and secretly loved it.

The jacket still sat in his closet, perfectly untouched- just waiting for a moment when he’d admit that maybe he deserves nice things. But he’s not there yet. Not really.

49. He low-key loves your "bougie" (normal) snacks, but won’t admit it

You try to introduce him to your more “refined” tastes. Maybe it’s a fancy cheese, or high-end chocolate, or a real coffee drink that’s not just “instant” powder.

At first, Jason’s all about his junk food. But you catch him secretly swiping the expensive chocolate bar from the fridge.

“I hate these,” he says, but you catch the way his eyes flicker with a guilty pleasure.

“Then why do you keep eating them?”

“Shut up.”

50. He’s proud of his independence

He may hate the whole Wayne legacy, but he’s still proud of how he’s carved his own path. His tastes, his choices- even his snacks -are just another way of proving that he’s not defined by his 'family' name.

And somehow, that’s the part that makes him feel the most like himself. Not the Red Hood. Not “Wayne’s adopted son.” Just Jason Todd.

51. You call him “daddy” in front of someone- an accident to be fair

One morning, you’re in a rush to leave for work and casually call out, “Bye, daddy!” out of habit before heading out the door. You don’t even think twice about it.

But when you shut the door, you turn and see Damian sitting on the couch, looking at you like you’ve just committed the most cardinal sin.

Silence fills the room as you realize what you've done.

Jason, meanwhile, is trying not to laugh while Damian stares him down, and there's a whole "You told her to call you that?" conversation that never gets resolved. Damian just gives Jason the side-eye for the next few days.

52. The first time you meet his family- Oh boy…

When Jason finally takes you to meet his family, you almost choke at the sight of that massive, impressive mansion.

You’d been hearing about them for a while, but nothing could prepare you for the pure opulence of the place.

Jason, trying to play it cool, introduces you to his siblings. But deep down, you can see the unease in his eyes. He’s hoping his siblings don’t completely embarrass him in front of you.

Spoiler: they totally do.

53. Jason’s siblings stealing you away to tell you embarrassing stories

Once they know you’re there, his siblings (usually the most asshole-ish ones) quickly whisk you away to the kitchen or garden, telling you the most embarrassing Jason Todd fucked up stories.

One talks about the time he tried to sneak out as a kid and got stuck in a tree for an hour. Another shares the story of when he lost a bet to Damian and had to wear pink for a week and he cried.

By the end of it, you’re laughing so hard, you can’t tell if Jason’s going to explode or just sit there trying not to die of embarrassment.

54. Jason’s family finds out you’ve been living together for a year- a whole year?!

At a family dinner, you and Jason casually mention you’re planning on moving apartments soon.

That’s when his siblings drop the bombshell.

“Wait, you’ve been living together for a year and never told us?”

Jason looks at them like he’s been caught in a mildly embarrassing situation. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like I owe you a rundown of my life.”

His family is way too interested now, and Jason tries to play it cool, but you both know it’s one of those awkward moments that will haunt him for years to come.

55. Jason’s protective side when it comes to his family and you

If his siblings start messing with you too much or saying anything too embarrassing, Jason’s response is instant.

“Knock it off. You wanna deal with me?”

He doesn’t threaten them, but the way he says it? Yeah, they take a step back.

And when it’s just the two of you later, he’s like, “If they ever make you uncomfortable, I swear, I’ll-”

You reassure him, but you appreciate how seriously he takes your comfort with his family.

56. Jason buys you a ridiculously expensive gift, but it’s low-key, and you’re both uncomfortable

One night, Jason comes home and hands you this insanely expensive necklace with a diamond 'J' charm—way out of your usual price range.

"What's this?" you ask, giving him a confused look.

“Just... because,” he says, scratching his head awkwardly. “I saw it and thought you’d look good wearing it.”

You’re immediately touched, but you can tell Jason’s acting a little weird about it. It's one of those moments where he wants to spoil you, but his pride gets in the way.

57. Jason finds it way too easy to spoil you now though

At first, he fought it. He thought, “Nah, I’m not the type to just throw money around.”

But now? Oh, now it’s second nature.

If you even hint at something you want, Jason’s on it like white on rice.

He knows the moment you mentioned a new phone, you’re gonna find it waiting for you at home. Because Jason was already ahead of the game.

58. His family doesn’t understand his quiet obsession with you

At some point, his siblings ask him directly, “So... when are you gonna admit you’re in love with her?”

Jason almost chokes on his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But everyone knows. His family can see how he softens around you, how he’d do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and happy.

And Jason’s so not used to this, so he just acts all defensive about it, even though his family’s already figured it out.

59. Jason doesn’t actually talk about his family that much

It’s not that he’s embarrassed. It’s just that Jason doesn’t want you to see him through the lens of his family’s wealth and drama.

Sometimes he lets little things slip, but mostly, he keeps his family life under wraps.

He doesn’t need you to like them. He just wants you to like him, and to him, that’s what matters most.

60. Jason’s family low-key approves of you

Despite all the chaos, his family starts to realize that you’re a good match for Jason. You challenge him, make him laugh, and somehow manage to keep him grounded when his ego gets out of hand.

At the end of the day, they know he’s better with you.

That doesn’t stop them from occasionally teasing him, of course, but they can see what he sees in you.

61. Jason panics to pick the perfect ring

Jason spends days- days -agonizing over the perfect ring. It’s not that he doesn’t know what you’d like, it’s just that this is a huge decision. He doesn’t want to screw it up. So, of course, he recruits his sister for help, who takes you out on a ‘girls day’ to get your nails done and do some shopping. You have no idea why, but Jason’s silently breathing a sigh of relief the whole time as she helps pick out a ring that he’s sure will make you say yes.

62. Jason cries while talking to his brothers

Jason never thought he’d be talking about marriage to anyone- let alone his brothers. But here he is, pacing back and forth in front of them, confessing that he’s about to propose. And he's... crying. Not because he's weak, but because he's terrified. “I’m actually doing this,” he whispers, shaking his head. “I’m about to propose to the woman I love. Holy shit, I’m actually doing it.”

His brothers? They’re all smiles and a little bit of laughter, making fun of him, but deep down, they know this is a big step for him, and they support him.

63. Jason gets on one knee, and you don’t say anything

When he finally proposes, it’s simple. In the park where you had your first date. Jason goes down on one knee, holding the ring out in front of you, but you’re so quiet that for a second, he thinks you’re going to say no. Panic sets in, and then you start sobbing, whispering over and over, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Jason’s heart nearly explodes, and he kisses you right there, the world disappearing around you both.

64. Hes... a dad?

A few months after the proposal, you show him the ultrasound picture, and Jason freezes, his eyes tracing the dates. He counts back, and a realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh fuck,” he mutters to himself, panic rising. “That was the night we-”

It takes him a minute, but he’s almost certain. That was the night you conceived. It’s terrifying, yet beautiful, but he’s more scared than he’s ever been. He wants to be a dad, but can he actually do it?

65. Jason moves the wedding date up

Jason may not be traditional, but once he found out about the baby, he made a decision. The wedding date was moving up. He wasn’t going to have his daughter born to parents who weren’t married, and damn it, he wasn’t waiting any longer. He wants to make sure that little girl has the kind of family he never had growing up.

66. The wedding is simple but perfect

The wedding is small and simple, just how Jason wanted it. His brothers are both his best men, and they give him so much shit about it, but Jason wouldn’t have it any other way. You agree to let his sister be your maid of honor, and though there are a few moments of tension, everything falls perfectly into place. Jason, in his suit, looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. You both say your vows, and there’s no turning back now.

67. Jason holds his newborn and sobs

When you give birth to his daughter, he holds her in his arms for the first time, and Jason just breaks. He’s never been so overwhelmed in his life. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and when he presses her tiny body against his chest, he cries. Big, ugly, full of love tears. "I’m gonna protect you with everything I’ve got," he whispers. "I promise."

68. The Wayne family spoils her rotten

It’s not surprising that Jason’s daughter gets spoiled by the entire Wayne family. Every time they visit, she gets showered with gifts, new clothes, toys she doesn’t even know what to do with. Jason watches it all with a soft smile, knowing how much this little girl is going to be loved and protected. They can spoil her as much as they want, because she’s his little princess.

69. Jason being the ultimate girl dad

It’s her fourth birthday, and Jason’s letting his daughter paint his face with play makeup, sitting there patiently as she dabs the brush all over his face. It’s the kind of moment that makes Jason feel like the luckiest man alive. He’s so in love with her. No matter how messy or goofy things get, he wouldn’t change a thing. She’s his little girl, and he’ll cherish every second.

70. Jason Todd has never been happier

As chaotic and sometimes overwhelming as his life has been, nothing compares to this moment. Sitting on the couch with his daughter on his lap, his arms around you, Jason can’t help but think that this? This is happiness. The love he never knew he needed has found him, and for the first time in a long time, he feels like everything is right. He’s a husband, a father, and for the first time in his life...

He feels at home.

And that leather jacket you got him years ago? He's finally wearing it.

RAHHHHHHHH I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM