#just imagine how cute and soft and shy he would be | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

screampied · 2 months ago

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34+35 𝜗𝜚

❤︎ sum. can you stay up all night? fuck him ‘till the daylight, 34 + 35? nanami kento, ijichi kiyotaka, geto suguru, choso kamo, gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, toji fushiguro

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, 69, manhandling, ass-obsessed men, true form! sukuna, fíngering, mirror séx, squírting, riding ijichi’s glasses, cunnīlingus, bjs, spanks, riding their tongues, praise, implied marathons, sukuna’s stomach tongue, overstim, pússydrunk men, messy eating, milking them, breedīng mentions, dirty talk, petnames.

✩ ˛˚ . IJICHI KIYOTAKA

“oh,” ijichi would gulp, basking in your slick glory that’s located between your cracked thighs. you’re arched over, holding your hips up while he laid flat on his back against the bed. as a mere taunt, you wriggle your ass against his face and you hear a small gasp depart from his thinly-parted lips. “ ‘s this position comfortable for you, m’ love?”

“mhmhm,” you’d hum, wrapping a hand around his vein-covered cock. from all girthy sides and angles, its decorated with prominent veins that prodded solely at the way your thumb rubbed against his tender foreskin. it even had a cute ‘lil curve on the side. “don’t be shy, ‘jichi. i’ll just be down here.”

with a teasing, sweet shimmy of your hips, your sloppy cunt ends up imprinting against ijichi’s squared glasses lenses. beforehand, he asked if he should take them off but oh, you insisted for him to keep them on.

right then, you moaned, feeling his tongue give your dripping folds a few flicks before he pushed the metal bridge back up his nose. “s- so pretty,” he’d murmur huskily, groaning mellowly once he felt the tip of your tongue slither around his ruby-colored tip. he’s still so sensitive, and ijichi squeezed the left cheek of your ass before giving it a soft sharp smack. “mngh- keep . . keep doin’ that, m’love. use your tongue like that ‘n ride against my- hah- face, fuck-”

it’s barely been a few seconds and ijichi’s already rendered completely speechless. as you arched your back over the top of his chest, he had a clear 20/20 vision of your dripping, glistening pussy steamily clouding his eyesight. with your panties lazily shoved to the side, he slides a thumb down your already pulsating clit that’s thump thump thumping.

“o… oh, wow,” he breathes shakily, guiding his thumb more up toward your sticky, dripping cunt. as ijichi was buried between your thighs, he was already feeling his mouth starting to water like a dog. it takes him a bit to actually find your clit, but when he does - you let off a sweet mewling sound that could easily pass for a harmony.

up close, your pussy was just so so pretty. in an erotic, carnal way - it even resembled a flower. his thumb softly pulled at the flap of your folds and you moaned, feeling his lukewarm tongue slickly dip its way inside. “am i doing this right?”

“you’re doin’ perfect, ijichi,” you moaned, making sure to lather your dripping tongue all over his darkly-red tip. he sucked in a short-winded breath beneath you, using his other hand to tug on his unkempt tie. his breathy, shallow pants aired against your cunt and you bit your lip, wriggling your slick core more swiftly against his face. “use your tongue a little more and- and, don’t be shy to be a little nasty.”

nasty.

ijichi’s ears perked, and he felt his dick twitch instantly in the palm of your hand. as you started to gradually fit his length inside of the cozy warmth of your mouth, he sighs deeply.

“okay-” he grunts, dragging your hips back just a bit more. your pussy wetly slides over the bridge of his nose before landing back on his compressed lips. he’s already starting to spasm with you on top of him, and ijichi’s now slurping your pussy. every few seconds, you’d feel the cold square lenses of his glasses tickle against your folds. “mngh-” he moans, feeling you cup a hand over his swollen base. they felt so full, and you hummed with a slight smile, just imagining how much of a load he was probably hiding.

you covered your teeth with your lips as you continued to go down - lapping up any glittery drop of saliva that spewed down the sides of his heavy cock. “mhm,” you muffled a sweet moan, hollowing your cheeks while feeling his tongue hungrily strum its way back ‘n forth against your g-spot.

it makes you shudder for a second, and you almost slip off another moan. ijichi was loudly moaning the entire time though, and he couldn’t help it.

it was just the way your tongue steadily glided its way down one of his veins before you popped your mouth back up to his tip was an echoing pop. while you continued, you brought your hands down toward your bare breasts before giving them a soft squeeze.

instantaneously, ijichi’s dark hooded eyes trailed down just for a quick peek and he murmured out a shaky, ‘oh f- fuck,’ once he saw you cupping your pretty tits whilst bobbing your head up and down on his curved shaft. “y- you’re so hot,” he huffed, dragging a hand through his neatly-gelled hair. “i’m not gonna… last m’love, not when you’re moving your pretty ass against my glasses like t- this.”

“didn’t say you could stop eating, ‘jichi.” you briefly popped his crowned tip from your slick-coated lips, steadying your rocky hips against his face. behind you, you heard him let off a throaty groan before his tongue tenderly flicked at your clit thrice. the gluey sap that dripped from your folds perfectly decorated a good portion of his lips, and that’s when ijichi started to pant even more.

“ ‘m sorry, f- fuck,” he whines between your legs, feeling your lips wrap back ‘round his aching length. taut gripping fingers tug at your perk ass before he’s rolling his tongue everywhere, feeling the sticky fog of your pussy cling against the lens of his prescription glasses. “ ‘m gonna cum. can’t hold-”

with a small smile, you whispered out a small, “go ahead,” before teasingly guiding the tip of your lukewarm tongue down his veiny cock. pants of pleasure surged through every part of ijichi’s body, and while his tongue was still buried inside of your clit, he finally releases. his wet lips were all glossy and raw-bitten as he pursed them, letting off a hoarse moan before his neck fell limp against his pillow. “t- that’s it, let go for me, baby.”

when ijichi came - he came hard.

his tip erupted like a volcano, remnants of his creamy mess spouting down your hand so warmly like hot magma. within an instance, you slowly traced your tongue around his leaking tip whilst letting off a content hum at his tangy taste. “ugh-” he swallows, feeling his limp body beneath you stiffen. ijichi was shaking while you continued to slither your wet tongue over his sensitive frenulum. “your tongue alone might just hah- make me propose, sweetheart.”

as your brows came together, you brought his leaking tip back away from your lips before turning around, and facing him. “oh?” you sweetly quipped, pressing both palms on his wrinkled business shirt. “well, are you?”

“maybe,” he breathes roughly, and you slip off a gasp once he suddenly spins you around, making you fall flat back against your chest. ijichi stares at your backside before pouting, re-adjusting his glasses whilst pressing his face close to your dripping pussy. “ahem, but first-” he clears his throat, and you moaned once he languidly slipped his thick ring finger inside of your folds, watching it disappear.

“l- let me practice my proposal, m’love.”

✩ ˛˚ . TOJI FUSHIGURO

“ah, c’mere,” toji grunts, dragging your hips back. callused, stubby fingertips softly pierce into the plush flesh of your hips before he positions you. instinctively, you raise your hips while getting a straight view of toji’s hard bulge poking through his denim-blue boxers. “park that pretty pussy, atta girl.” and you moaned, feeling the flatness of toji’s smooth tongue greet your drooling cunt with a starving wet lick.

as you looked in front of you - oh, he’s fucking hard.

your hand wrapped around his thick cock before you shyly flicked your tongue over his slit. gruffly, toji grumbles lowly beneath you before he uses two big hands to spread your cute squirming ass apart.

at the sound of a slick wet ‘pft’ - you gasped, feeling toji’s saliva abruptly trickle down. as you choked back whimpers, you delicately rubbed a thumb down his veiny shaft before gingerly sinking him into your mouth.

“fuuuck, that’s it, baby girl,” toji groans against your dripping heat, playfully capturing your clit with his teeth for a split second before releasing. toji was always nasty and he had no shame at all. he was always an eater and you and him both knew that.

slimy, glittery spit cascades down your puffed slit the more he continued to devour you. “work that fuckin’ throat like you always know how to do, mhm,” and you’re already drooling from the corners of your mouth as both of your cheeked puffed out from how full it was.

his cock’s just stupidly fat - it’s got a hanging curve of its own as it leaned, and his thick girth that prodded against the inside of your cheeks had you short-circuiting within seconds. every time you felt toji’s tongue sloppily zigzag its way through your cunt like a maze, your back arched further.

“ngh-” you’d let off a muffled mewl, trying to keep your focus in front of you. as your left palm continued to twist around toji’s hardened cock, your head finally started to bobble after a while. he’s underneath you the entire time, sliding his burly arms toward your thighs before teasingly pulling you closer to his starving mouth.

“awh, wish you could see how much of a crybaby you are right here between yer legs, sweet girl,” toji rasps, dragging his tongue across his lips before feeling you already starting to dampen his patchy stubble. “sooo damn wet for me that she’s cryin’ little crocodile tears,” he snickers, dipping his long tongue inside of your cunt only to snatch it right back out. your legs trembled over toji’s face and he lowly laughed against your pussy, giving it a cocky pat. “so cute.”

“s- shiiit, toji,” you drawled out a sobbing whine, wetly popping his reddish-shaded tip out of your mouth. it’s loud, reverbing briefly through the four walls of your shared apartment before your toes promptly clenched. “ ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum, your t- tongue’s so d-”

as toji grabbed your hips, making you sit flat on his face, he grumbled against your soddened pussy. “not deep enough? yeah, i agree. hold still,” and you audibly gasped - much louder this time once his tongue expanded further inside you.

strands of his matted black hair tickled against you as he lolled his tongue against your salivating heat again and again ‘till you could practically taste your candied release. you’re rocking against his mouth as you still face the other way, moaning once his fingerprints harshly dug into the fat of your tender flesh. “ride it.”

“ride wh-”

“girl you heard me,” toji smacks his lips, hoarsely swatting a palm against your ass before taking a second to collect air in his raspy lungs. “ride it.”

you knew what he meant the second you heard him slip off a lewd ‘ah.’ toji’s tongue laid flat, and he held up your rickety hips from his face for just a moment before you prepared a sharp breath.

“o- okay,” you pressed your glossed lips together, slowly lowering your ass back down against his mouth. from nose to chin - oh, toji’s face was just smeared with your glimmering slick. it adds a sort of lewd shine to his face, and you caught a slight peek of it from craning your head back.

the creaking bed beneath you both seismically shook, its impact almost equivalent to an earthquake with the way your aching hips rocked and rocked over toji’s mouth. he’s got his pink tongue rolled out flat whilst he’s baring his verdant-green eyes into the rotating flesh of your ass. “mhm,” he gifts the right cheek of your ass a stinging mean slap, dragging out a sweet pitiful whimper from your lips.

a wave of rapture cascades down your veins as you twirl your hips ‘round, already spasming from his sloppy elongated slurps. you slid the tip of your tongue down his length whilst your free hand started to reverse its wet twists around his cock. “yeaaah, girl. use that.. hah- tongue.”

as a bit of your saliva poured from your droopy lips, you whimpered - feeling toji’s teeth softly nibble at your clit. he’s ruthless, using both hands to sprawl your ass apart wider before trailing his tongue up to lap near your neglected hole. your back remained arched as he slurped you clean, making sure the tip of his salivating tongue prodded through every wet part of your convulsing pussy. but after a few seconds, your body had about just enough.

you squealed, feeling yourself writhe on his flicking tongue while your vision temporarily turned into nothing but splotches of white. “f- fuuuck,” you’d drag out, gasping once your release finally came. it slams into you at full force, and your jaw tensed. you could still hear toji’s slick hungry slurps from behind you, and that’s when your legs cutely collapsed. “tojiiiii, toji-” and all you could babble out with his name as your weak hand still wrapped around his hardened cock.

“tsk,” he clicks his tongue, sliding a fat thumb down your pulsating clit before darting his tongue down your weeping opening. you moaned, feeling the edge of his scarred lips smear itself against your pussy and you could also feel the stretching grin growing across his lips as he stayed beneath your numbed legs. “poor thing. my girl’s just about had it, hm?”

and once he heard you cutely flop on the cushioned mattress, toji sits up, licking your slick clean from his now sheeny lips. “aw, my tongue too much for you?” he huskily utters, leaning his head down, kissing near the top part of your slobbering cunt. even still - you were shaking, fluttering from the after effects of his maddened tongue, and yet, you only wanted more.

toji raised a brow, seeing you suddenly arch your back again before using two fingers to spread your wet folds apart in front of him. while were still silently whimpering out cute ‘lil pleads of his name, you did a cute shimmy of your ass as if you were saying, ‘more.’ “dirty girl. teasing me with my favorite meal’s only gonna do so much.”

toji then rubs the entirety of his palm against your tepidly-hot pussy before softly pushing your head back into your fluffed pillow. “but fine, just keep that pretty ass up for me while i fuckin’ eat.”

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU

satoru drinks it just like water, saying it tastes just like candy.

if it was anything about him though, it was that he’s almost always had a sweet tooth all his life - but he had to admit, there wasn’t anything sweeter than his pretty ‘lil wife who gets a little too handsy when the little ones are spending the weekends at their grandparents.

with his blindfold still on, he’s got you frantically squirming over his naturally-smirking mouth while both hands deeply gripped onto the jiggling flesh of your ass. “s- satoru,” you’d sob out a sweet gasping whimper, feeling his wry tongue crawl its way through every nook and cranny of your dripping cunt. on your own, you’re effortlessly making the bed shake with your quaky tremors and it was just so cute. “sato- fuuck.”

“you’re slidin’ again, angel,” he murmurs against your pussy, and he’s just nose-deep. the tip of satoru’s nose was wet, as well as his chiseled chin that was just prettily shining all thanks to your slick. you leaned forward, glancing down at his flushed tip that was still spilling tiny droplets of pre from all plump sides. “mngh- don’t just stare, silly girl. you can hah- give it a little kiss while i eat-”

as you’re still allowing harmonic whines to pour from the cracks of your lips, you brought your glossed lips up to the head of his cock. satoru’s happily buried between your thighs, hungrily delving his tongue in ‘n out of your cunt with such bestial haste.

“oh, my goddd,” you bit your lip, bringing a hand to wrap around his length. slipping out your tongue, you slowly rolled it around his tip in hypnotizing circles, feeling him shiver beneath you. he gives your ass a playful smack, the visible recoil of your skin causing him to groan against your pussy. “m- mhm, don’t stop, ‘toru.”

the bed beneath you both shook so much that it was easy for one to mistake it for an earthquake. with the way you fiercely rocked your hips against his mouth in such an addicting motion, satoru’s starting to moan right with you.

“good girl, use those pretty hips uh huh,” and you felt his lips suddenly depart for a second before feeling something else. as satoru’s recollected shallow airy breaths, he prods the tip of his lanky middle finger against your sobbing pussy. “real question is, is she gonna be a good wet girl ‘n open up a liiiittle more for me?”

as your lips wrapped around satoru’s cock, you let off a muffled moan once his digit started to vanish inside of your squeezing cunt. your tummy heaved, gasping silently at the tender feeling while barreling such a looong finger inside. your tongue swiped its way across his sweet-tasting tip before you started to quicken your pants.

“phew,” satoru ogles intently, staring as you kept your sprawled legs apart. he watched closely as you instantly clenched around his finger, dampening his digit within minutes. your pussy even squelched out wet little sounds of its own, and he can’t help but softly rub his thumb down your puffed clit. “guess she can. my wet wifey can just about do anything when she’s soaking for me, hmm.”

“mmngh-” you moaned, both of your legs shaking once he dipped his same finger right back out. satoru licks it clean before lolling his desirable pink tongue right back out. your mouth’s full, and you’re trying to maintain focus but failing every passing second.

satoru spreads your ass apart, shamelessly slurping your pussy as he felt the cute ‘lil pulses tickle his tongue. whilst he’s shamelessly devouring you whole, his pretty white lashes remain closed for the time being. you were spasming on his mouth as you continued to take him in your mouth.

but right then, satoru flutters his eyes open, pulling his blindfold up from his face like they another pair of your lacey panties. he snickers, using his technique to know you were just about there. “uh oh,” he murmurs, staring at the slick that’s just mindlessly dripping down your pussy. “something’s tellin’ me that my wife’s about to make a little mess.”

with a ‘pop’ - his dick departs from your lips and you inhale a breath, whimpering at the sudden pressure threatening to finally reach its peak. “satoru, something’s coming-” you mewled pathetically, reaching a hand back to grab at his unkempt white tresses. instinctively, his head leans further against your cunt and he huskily chuckles. “ ‘m gonna cum.”

“oh, i know,” he mumbles, luminous cerulean eyes fixating its gaze between your quaking thighs directly above him. satoru grabs at your doughy ass before sliding a finger back inside of your cunt again.

“go ‘head then,” and his voice was so deep - a lot silkier this time. you moaned, feeling another finger curl its way inside and he’s just slowly scissoring both digits inside of your soddened pussy. “c’mon angel, give it to me. you got it girl, riiide it all out on my tongue, mhm-”

at the low, husky cooing of his words - your pretty pitching orgasm rings through his ears.

right as you ended up squirting, you couldn’t stop the sweet little squeal that ran away from your trembling lips.

your teeth-shattering release loosens your shoulders before you whimpered, choking on your whimpers whilst you still felt him darting his tongue down your sappy entrance. “satoru, f- fuck, fuckk,” you’d trill whimperingly, continuing to feel him sloppily scrape his hot tongue through the outskirts of your pussy. “thankyouthankyou-”

“aw, you’re welcome,” satoru mumbles, noticing the slick moisture that was starting to stick down against your legs. your body still shook over him violently, and as you’re trying to recover from your recent finish, satoru gives your drooling cunt a kiss.

he even pats your wet folds with the back of his blindfold before giving your pretty pussy its last and final sloppy kiss.

“nice to hear my pretty girl’s still got manners at least heh.”

✩ ˛˚ . CHOSO KAMO

“princess,” choso sat up from between the sprawled heat of your thighs. as he licked his upper lip, from top to bottom, it was practically smeared with your shimmery essence. he’s been eating you out for hours probably, and with a glance out the window, it was already turning daylight. you looked down at him, still struggling to catch ragged, deep breaths before meeting his lust-filled gaze. choso gives your clit a single wet kiss before sheepishly grinning. “i wanna try 96. i saw it online and-”

“96?” you smiled, giving his head a soft pat. “don’t you mean 69?”

choso huffs, sitting up to lean into you. “yeah yeah, same thing,” and he brings his needy, hungry lips to yours. you returned the kiss, curling your tongue ‘round his while his cherry-mint taste exploded against your buds. “can we try?”

“okay-” you smiled against his lips. choso moaned once you playfully flicked his chest, making him flop back against the satiny-black sheets. he pulled your hips back toward his face while you wrapped a hand around his thick cock. it’s tip had a nice dark red shade, and he was still oozing a bit of pre-cum from just tasting you.

you arched your back at the most perfect angle, letting off an airy, mewl gasp once you felt his shallow breath of air against your cunt. already, choso felt himself salivating at the mouth once he single-handedly spreads your pussy with his thumb.

“oh… oh,” his expression goes slyly timid, and he even leans in to give your pussy a wet kiss. “you’re so pretty over me like this.” he whispers, watching the strings of slick messily stick onto its lips.

lazily, choso slouched back against the tottering bed frame before he wrapped an arm around your torso. he’s tenderly soft, aligning his parched mouth with your cunt as his tongue swiped its way against your clit. “m- mhm, just like that,” your voice shook, feeling his smoky breath glue against your skin.

choso was still in his boxers, and your brows curiously knit together - noticing his visible bulge that was damn near painfully poking through the cottony fabric. you arched your back just a little more, leaning in close before licking around the fat print of his bulge.

you could’ve sworn his dick twitched the second your tongue trailed itself over the fly part of his boxers. “p- princessss,” he hisses, reluctantly breaking away from your cunt to glance down at you. since you were turned the other way, he couldn’t really see much of you like he initially wanted and it made him pout. “don’t be a tease.”

“ask nicely then, baby.” you softly uttered, sliding a thumb down toward the gusset part, guiding it slightly up near the upper middle. it’s just poking out, and you could see a bit of a dampening dark-grey spot where his tip prodded at behind the fabric. choso grunts, feeling you cutely wriggle your ass against his face before he deeply sighs.

“f… fine,” he grits his teeth, dragging poised fingers down each of your wobbly thighs. “please just-” he swallows, feeling his boxers grow tighter after each nanosecond that passed. the air around him felt so hot, and he already knew he was leaking a bit of pre-cum just by your intimidating proximity.

fuck.

“please, pretty please,” choso goes back to lapping his tongue against your slick cunt, eating a sweet gasp from you. “pull my boxers down ‘n… do whatever, please, just make me mmh- feel good, princess.”

“good boy,” you mumbled, using a hand to spring out his thick cock. choso whined from your feverishly hot touch as he felt the edge of your dripping tongue skim its way around the crowned head. his tip’s a fiery blushing red, and as he presents a single kiss to your clit — he shudders underneath you. you use a thumb to rub over his slit before using a palm to wrap over his veiny cock. “mhm, how’s it feel?”

with both bodies against each other rhythmically moving in delayed sync, choso slipped off a strained whimper. “so good, s- so good, princess,” and his blurbs of whines get caught in between your cunt once he purses his swollen lips together. you moaned once choso latched his lips against your sticky pussy, giving your honeyed folds a needy, long slurp.

you brought your same thumb behind the head of his cock, slowly massaging it before lapping your tongue around a bit of his foreskin. underneath you, you heard choso’s breath get caught in his throat and it was quite cute how he forgot to breathe for a second. “more, more-”

“more please.”

“more… please.” choso repeats after you, damn near falling in love once he feels the sloppy reverse of your hand that’s softly twisting at his cock. you rocked your hips over his face as you continued, allowing a bit of shimmery spit to fall from your lips and dribble onto the crown of his plump shaft.

“m- mistress,” he hiccuped, feeling your hot mouth vacuum each side of his cock before giving his tip a slurping wet suck. “i mean mommy,” he moans again, feeling his lips quiver once he feels you licking near his tender frenulum. “i- fuck.”

you giggle at his stammering, dragging your tongue down a prominent vein that runs down the left side of his dick. choso’s running a hand through his matted black strands before he digs the top row of his teeth in his bottom lip. “you gonna cum for me, ‘cho?”

“yeah, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cummm,” he nods, staring down at the slick sides of your thighs that were just dripping with your wet mess.

choso couldn’t help but run his tongue down at the trail he created, happily relishing in your flavor before he felt himself about to burst - literally.

choso swirled his tongue inside of your pussy in exaggerated, tight circles ‘till you started to feel your legs trembling. he moans at the sight of you wriggling your ass against his face, and he even prods a thumb against your twitching clit that continuously pulsed from the numbing stimulation. “make me cum, yeah- make me f- feel good, pleaseplease-”

he continued to babble against your slick folds until he eventually came, shooting milky-white stripes of cum that messily sprayed against your hand. he’s shaking underneath you, moaning out your name in his raw hoarse voice before you started to lap the mess up.

“good hah- boy,” you breathed dryly, kissing all sides of his hooked cock. it just about fits in your palm perfectly, and he shuddered each time you toyed with his tender glands with the tip of your tongue. “did so good.”

“can you..” choso huffed weakly, a sheepish grin forming on his lips. you watched as his chest went up ‘n back down again while he was pawing clingy hands at both of your hips. you were about to turn around but he stops you, making you continue to face forward. “can you do t- that with your mouth again?” and choso aligns himself against your weeping pussy once more, coating your folds with a multitude of wet kisses.

“i think i like 96 now, h- heh.”

✩ ˛˚ . SUGURU GETO

geto’s a wild, untamed animal…

with him, he’ll leave you feeling sore for hours with all of your limbs feeling like they’re on the verge of falling right off. as he talked you through probably your third orgasm of the night, your knees buckled.

there was a long rectangular mirror that was propped up in front of you both too, mirroring every single coarse and filthy position he introduced your body to.

“f- fuuuck,” you whimpered, bringing your hips to a slowing halt as he was still buried deep inside of you. geto’s laid beneath you, staring at the ridden bouncy flesh of your ass grinding against his sharpened pelvis. his cock deeply dragged its way through your cunt, sloppily massaging your walls before you bit your lip. “fuck, sugu- ‘m still c- cumming-”

“i know,” he huffs, watching your limp body shake as your back turns the opposite way of him. your hands rested on his knees, and he couldn’t help but steal glimpses at your ass that swayed itself against him. “and i want a taste.” swiftly, he lifts you, spinning you around before pulling your legs back. you moaned, feeling his spit-glossed lips decorate a path of kisses down your tepid thighs.

dark, lust-filled eyes studied your jerking movements before he positioned you to align your ass to hover over his face.

you sucked in a windy breath, feeling geto’s tongue wetly flicks its way against your pussy and you quickly craned your head to look at him, only to feel his palm whack against your ass.

“ah, ahhh- eyes on the pretty girl up front,” geto gruffly reminds you, slightly turning your head to stare at the reflection of yourself in his propped up mirror. “all you need to worry about is keepin’ this pretty ass up for me.”

“but-”

“but-” he mocks your tone, surprising your cunt with a wet kiss, causing you to whimper. geto unapologetically spits against your glistening heat before lapping it right back up again, circling the pad of this thumb ‘round your pulsating clit. “but nothing, have some manners, sweetheart. you’ve done enough talking for the night,” and geto hums, dipping his thumb inside of your cunt with ease before gluing his lips against your core once more. instantly, slippery squelches wetly sing from between your legs and you whine, glancing at yourself in the mirror. “but she’s always got something to add, cute.”

while geto’s occupied by being between your thighs, your eyes land down at his cock. and oh, was it always so, so pretty.

his tip had a bit of a tan, and before you knew it, your spit-dribbling lips were already wrapping ‘round his fat length. “mmhhm-” you moaned, swirling your tongue over one of the many veins that prodded down his cock. he’s still got his lips latched to your pussy, rummaging the pointed tip of his tongue through every convulsing orifice ‘till you damn near screamed all three pretty syllables of his name.

in his mind, you looked ethereal like this - bent over and arched on all fours.

every time you squirmed, he sucked harder against your cunt and you were at a loss for words every time. “my tongue, pretty girl,” geto grumbles, clawing a hand at your right ass cheek. he sharply spanks it twice, hearing your sweet mewling sobs in front of him before he hoarsely groans. “fuckin’ ride on it for me, ‘m so thirsty.” and you let off muffled noises of your own, rolling your hips back. as geto’s tongue stayed lolled out, your pussy ferociously dragged itself against the flatness of his tongue.

his tastebuds never felt so hot. you moaned, feeling the middle of his tongue curls itself back before laying flat again.

you whimpered, using a hand to stroke his veiny cock while you continued to messily bob yourself up ‘n down. you’re even sloppy yourself, feeling the slippery beads of saliva pour from the corners of your lips.

after each slurp, his cock moderately grows in your mouth. “mmngh-” you moaned with your lashes momentarily shut, feeling his tip abruptly slap its way against the roof of your mouth. within minutes, your chin was starting to shine with your saliva and you only wanted more.

“that’s my girl, fuck,” geto groans against your pussy that drenched him from his nose to his pointed chin. with two clammy hands, geto pulls your hips back a bit once he watches you squirm. immediately, your hips buckled and flopped against his chest with his dick still keeping the left inside of your cheek company. “mmgh-”

minutes pass with you still taking geto’s hefty cock in your mouth with his lips still greedily attached to your cunt. the both of you came at an overwhelming high so fast that you could almost taste your orgasmic finish on the tip of your tongue. as geto continued to lap at the remnants of dripping saliva that tried to pour down your slit, he’s feeling his shaft tighten by the second. not even a nanosecond passed before a raw, throaty groan leaves from him.

“oh, f- fuck,” he stammers, and he’s cumming - hard, aiming straight at the back of your throat. his hips fiercely piston along with your own hips madly shaking over his laid-out tongue.

it’s got a bitterly sweet tang that makes you hum, feeling geto moderately pour his mess inside your mouth. you softly twisted his veiny length with one hand before lewdly popping his dick from between your slickly-wet lips.

“mhm,” you hummed, still panting as you took a second to swallow. geto was literally melting underneath you, and he had to keep pushing away the sticky black strands that glued to his forehead. “suguru-”

“damn,” he mumbles, a sleazy pussy-drunk grin plastered on his face. through the reflection of the mirror, you saw geto lay down, buried between your legs with both hands grabbing at each part of your ass. he laps his tongue up your glossed slit before giving your cunt a few open-mouthed kisses. “mhm, thank you.”

“for wh-”

“quiet, baby,” he hoarsely whispers, taking a few thick fingers down your puffy entrance. your back remained arched as you moaned, feeling the warmth of his breath tickle against your dewy core.

geto then sat up, reeling your hips back toward his face before spanking your ass for probably the nth time.

“give me just one more, ‘m still so hungry..”

✩ ˛˚ . SUKUNA RYŌMEN

continuously - sukuna’s snatched out multiple orgasms from you ‘till you could barely even mutter out audible, coherent words. he’s just so big, especially in his true form where the word 'stamina' was practically non-existent to him.

“you, get up here,” he slouched back against his throne as you were still heavily panting. you were sitting on his lap, still feeling that quavering shake between your legs after you finished riding him. “i wanna try somethin'.”

“okay-” you’d breathlessly sigh with droopy eyes. sukuna snickers behind you, and he eventually helps you up. brawny, beefy arms wrap ‘round you securely before suddenly, you find yourself upside down on his king-sized bed. your eyes enlarged to the size of saucers, and upon instinct, your hands grab onto his sprawled-out knees. “ ‘kuna, don’t drop me!”

“ ‘m not,” he rasps with an eye roll, spreading your feeble legs apart. a gust of balmy wind sets against your sloppy cunt and you whimpered. you could just feel the cold, sinister yet silent state of sukuna’s eyes focusing primarily between your legs. you’re still so wet, and he gives your drooling entrance a single kiss. “sit on my stomach, trust me.”

time stands still as you’re propped up just below sukuna’s chest with your body facing the opposite way. you tried to sit up, only for him to crisply slap a palm against your left ass cheek. “down, girl,” he snarled, and you gasped once you suddenly felt something appear and rub underneath your thighs — his stomach mouth - oh, you sometimes literally forgot he could create extra mouths on his body.

sukuna hums in carnal virility, bringing his forked stomach tongue towards your dripping opening before sloppily stealing the first wet lick.

you were oh-so-sweet, sweet as honey as he relished your glacé-tasting flavor. the moment sukuna used two hands to steady your hips, you moaned. the other two unoccupied hands went down, stretching the mouth on his stomach apart much wider while you took your seat on his ‘throne’ - his tongue.

the tongue wetly rolled itself out, delving inside of your pussy and it was just so careless. “f- fuuuck-” you whined, already bucking your hips against his ripped abdomen.

it was just so risqué.

sukuna was no stranger to eating you out but it was a lot different with his stomach tongue.

from the very pink tip, it’s drooling from your sweetened taste alone, and you’re already spasming. it’s so long too, and your eyes widened once you started to feel the delicious stretch of his tongue within no time.

“arch more for me, bend,” he gruffly murmured, trailing his crimson-red eyes down toward your squirming waist. you arch forward, staring at his dick in front of you and noticing how each prodding vein twitched through his skin. he sighed deeply, feeling your tongue lap its way against each prominent vein before he spanked your ass. “dirty girl, can’t help but get a taste too, hm?”

“suku-”

slap.

another loud spank interrupts you, and your trembly incoming words transform into a full-throated moan. you whimpered, still hearing the sloppy sloshes of your cunt as his stomach tongue continued. after another slap comes, the skin of your ass ricochet against his palm and you heard him groan from behind you. “fuck,” sukuna grumbles, compressing his pink brows together. your jolting body above him continued to writhe as the slimy tongue on his stomach continued to slide itself near your tender clit.

drops of shimmery dew pooled down your slit as you aligned your lips around his fat hefty cock. a glossy tear of pre-cum dribbles its way from his tip and you licked it instantly, humming at the bittersweet taste that clashes against your buds.

“mmgh, ‘kuna,” you moaned between greedy slurps, using a hand to grab near his full base. he groaned, feeling the tip of your thumb stroke down a prodding vein. his entire body from top to bottom was primarily decorated with his ancient markings and was now covered in glistening sweat.

“ ‘m not gonna hah- last,” you whimpered, gasping once you felt the forked tip of his lower stomach tongue repeatedly flicks its way at your sensitive nub. every languid pant you puffed out felt like it was going to be your last, and you were counting the seconds ‘till your sweet reverie would finally come.

“well yeah, you never do,” he grunts, feeling the wetness of your mouth linger over his plump cockhead.

sukuna’s domain was eerily quiet - except, the only sounds that could be heard were his extra tongue and your slick, sloppy squelches that reverbed through his royal chambers. he felt you cutely scooting yourself back ‘n forth against his stomach while you were partially taking him in his mouth. you tried, and you batted your lashes before moaning once you felt his dick twitch again against your wet tongue.

eagerly, your frantic hips buckled before you removed your naturally-glossed lips from his shaft, cutely craning your head back for a quick peek. “nosy little girl,” he reaches forward, slightly making you face forward. “nothing for you to see.”

you pout, facing the same way you were before as his tongue continued. quickly, your little pout turned into a more lewd look as your jaw started to drop. in milliseconds, your poor, empty brain was turning into mush as you felt all types of elation spike through your veins. “sukunaaa-” you whined, biting your lip once his stomach tongue ruthlessly stretched itself even more inside of you. you were grinding against his chiseled abdomen, feeling the sticky sap of your mess glue down your sprawled legs before you let off a yelping clamor. “i’m gonna-”

your sweet, belting words were interrupted by a gasp that ripped from your near-sounding hoarse windpipe. you slouched forward, feeling your poor legs grow limp as the tongue sloppily dragged a path near your hole before trailing back down towards your sopping pussy. you were speechless with half-open eyelids draping, barely holding themselves open.

“s- shit,” you whimpered through shaky lips, feeling your entire body reaching near its end. sukuna grabbed your hips, making you swirl your ass around his stomach one more time. “oh, my g- god.”

“hmph,” the demon grumbled, glancing down at his extra tongue that even licked the wet crevices of its mouth clean. you had a good portion of his stomach covered wholly with your lustrous slick, and within a second, the tongue retreated, flopping itself back into its mouth. “you could use a bit more training.”

“training?” you breathed, still feeling your legs tremble as a wind of fresh air forced its way out of your lungs. you slumped forward in defeat, whimpering silently as a prurient wave of static shock surged through your limp body.

sukuna snickers, lifting you before pulling you back up on his lap. “yeah, training,” he repeats roughly, and he suddenly sits himself up on his bed.

as he takes a three-second glance at your body with his rouge-colored eyes, sukuna spins you around. you slipped off a gasp, moaning once he started to bring your legs up. he brought one of his hands down toward your dripping pussy before giving it a soft pat. “we can start by working on your flexibility,” and you moaned, feeling sukuna’s lower arms lift you with his other set of arms squeezing at your bare breasts.

he’s aligning you over his cream-covered tip before you feel another tip poke its way against your inner thighs. you almost forgot how he could just duplicate any part of his body, and you already could just taste how stretched you were about to get.

“upsie-daisy,” he grunts, pulling you up with such strength before he gifts your wet pussy its second slap. you whimpered, babbling faint whines of his name before sukuna lightly nipped his fangs into the left side of your neck.

“mhm, fuck- now open up for your king like a good obedient girl.”

✩ ˛˚ . NANAMI KENTO

nanami groaned, intently eyeing the creamy-white mess that dribbled down the left side of his cock. “mmgh- sweetheart,” he swallows, dragging a hand through his neatly-parted blond hair. you moaned as you straddled him in his home office chair that squeaked each second you put your thighs to work. “wait a minute, bend over the desk for me, sweetheart.”

“okay.” humming sweetly, you removed yourself from his lap before leaning over his worn-down, groaning desk. nanami gnawed on his bottom lip as he slouched at his desk, bringing a thumb towards your stuffed cunt.

“now, look at thaaat,” he huskily utters, gradually trailing the tip of his pointer finger down your drooling slit. it’s probably been about the third time of the night that he’s stuffed you, and he grunts once he sees the cute ‘lil wriggle of your impatient hips. instantly, your ass jiggles and nanami brings a soft kiss to the right cheek of your ass. “get on the desk, my love. ‘m still a little thirsty.”

he helped position you on the desk with him laying flat back against the worn-out wooden furniture. you slumped over him, poking your ass just above his face with you facing the other direction.

“k- kentooo-” you whimpered, gasping once you felt his tongue already lapping at your glistening slick cunt. piles of nanami’s documents packets that scattered everywhere fell to the floor once you aligned yourself. you held back a whimper, feeling his tongue sloppily flick itself down your slick opening.

you moaned, feeling the cold band of his watch tickles its way against your skin. as you leaned forward, your spit-drooling lips wrapped their way around his scarlet red tip. “my, look at how it all just spills out,” murmured, feeling his dick twitch at the milky masses of cum that oozed down your sopping entrance.

once nanami brought his lips back toward your cunt, he wetly dips it inside before dragging it down to flick itself against each sensitive nerve stored inside you. “mhm, my pretty girl can’t help but taste so sweet when she’s filled to the brim.”

“f- fuck, ‘ken,” you’d dig the top row of your teeth down on your bottom lip, feeling and hearing him slurp up every ounce of molten pools of his cum drizzling down your clit. as you faced forward, you looked down at his veiny cock that stood tall.

nanami’s business slacks were pulled down, and your eyes couldn’t help but linger at his blond happy trail that decorated a good portion of his abdomen. “don’t s… stop-” you mewled, bringing your quivering lips toward his strawberry-colored tip.

with a single wet lick, you swirled the tip of your tongue ‘round the crown of his leaking head before pressing sloppy kisses near the bulky, veiny sides. nanami lets off a heady groan, slipping thick raw moans between your legs, and his lips were starting to glue against your wet pussy. as you started to take him into your mouth, nanami slips a thick middle finger in between your weeping folds.

“move yourself against my tongue, sweetheart, mhm.” he throatily whispers, using his other hand to bring a soft, teasing smack toward the left cheek of your ass. you leaned forward, whimpering once you felt your feverish cunt drag itself back and forth against the flatness of his salivating tongue.

nanami was a starved man, and he loved more than anything for you to quench his thirst with your sweet, honeyed taste.

like most times, he could barely fit inside, and once his bulbous-shaped tip hit against the roof of your mouth, you let off a muffled moan. your eyes prettily rolled way back at the feeling of both his thumb and tongue prodding inside of you.

“ ‘m s- so close, kento,” you whined, occasionally popping his tip from between your swollen lips every few seconds to speak. your hips cutely threw themselves back against his face, and nanami’s just effortlessly lapping up every glittery drop that trickled from your slit. “right there, fuck, fuck, please-”

“c’mon, sweetheart, be a good girl ‘n give it to me,” nanami airily gruffs, staring at his stringy webby globs of saliva that stuck against your cunt. he’s diving in face first, hungrily jackhammering his tongue in between your puffed folds continuously non-stop.

you couldn’t help but grind yourself back against his tongue while you kept bobbing your head.

the position alone was so crude, not to mention over his home desk - but nanami couldn't care less. he felt you starting to spasm and he hummed, bringing three wet kisses against your pulsing clit. once you loudly ‘popped’ his tip from your lips yet again, you started to whine out cooing little babbles and nanami sweetly cut you off, “shh, i know. where’s my wet girl? it’s okay, you got it, just let go for me. i’ll clean my messy girl riiight up, promise.”

callused, big hands tenderly spread your ass apart as you trembled above his body. the poor wooden desk the both of you laid on was creaking noisily. the old furniture sounded like it was pushing its limit as your thighs were tensing after each unpredictable swirl of his tongue.

a hot, pooling sensation curled its way inside of the lower pit of your stomach ‘till your eyes eventually crossed inward. “oh, f… fuuckk,” you whimpered sweetly, shuddering once you started to feel yourself violently convulsing on nanami’s flat tongue.

your euphorically elated release hits you roughly, slamming into your face first like a truck - and he’s still slowly guiding his tongue up ‘n down your glistening slick while you spasmed.

your senses were fully heightened as pretty inaudible whines drew from your lips. nanami’s blond brows knit together as he licked you clean, even grabbing his handkerchief from the small pocket of his casual dress shirt to wipe against his mouth.

“good girl…. my hah-good girl,” he purrs lowly, briefly sitting up to see you still perfectly arched over him. “heh, you know how to make a mess out of me,” and nanami gives your clit its final departing kiss before softly rubbing the silver band of his ring down your slippery folds.

for a split second, nanami’s browned eyes avert down towards your twitching pussy before he sees it still dripping with sap right before his eyes. he hums before playfully dragging your hips back toward his face, propping you right back on his mouth.

“but ah, don’t run now, silly girl. ‘m not done with you yet. work can wait, my wet wife can’t. now sit.”

12K notes · View notes

tonycries · 8 months ago

Text

Love Thy D!LF - T.F.

Synopsis. Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! Toji, voyéurísm, pánty-stéaling, male mast., exhibítionísm, he is so DOWN BAD, matíng presses, marathon s, víbrators, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, p slápping, p talking, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, PÚSSYDRÚNK TOJI, proposals, overstím, creampíes, shóoting blanks, he’s a tease that’s shírtless half the time, Megumi’s a real one, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.1k (PHEW)

A/N. Apartment building wouldn’t last a week if he was my neighbor.

Neighbor (UGH): another pair of those cute lil’ pajama shorts made their way onto my balcony again, ma.

Your neighbor was a tease.

Ever since you’d stepped foot into this apartment building a mere few months ago, it seemed like everything and anything he did was to rile your poor head up into a frenzy - and, well, down there…

Because, for lack of a better term, Toji Fushiguro was hot.

Once your landlord had off-handedly mentioned that the occupant of the apartment right beside your own was a single father, you’d imagined a sweet older man that doted on his young son and would likely steer clear out of your way.

What you certainly had not expected was for your housewarming gift of a fresh batch of cookies to be oh-so-blatantly greeted by a staggeringly gorgeous man that took up every inch of the doorframe. Shirtless.

Bzzt–!

Your skin burns with the realization of just how deeply you’d been reminiscing back to that heavenly sight, hastily snapping your eyes back onto your blaring phone screen.

Neighbor (UGH): well? hurry before i start to like them too much <3

Ugh, you’re rolling your eyes at that mischievous little heart placed at the end of his text. It was absolutely embarrassing how that was enough to have a tiny squeal slipping through your lips involuntarily. Calling you flirty nicknames, flashing winks your way, lingering his hands just slightly whenever he helped carry your groceries upstairs - Toji did everything.

You find yourself giving your reflection a slow one-over in your phone camera - just in case. Before padding eagerly down the treacherous pathway that carried you out of your apartment and along the five steps down the corridor to your neighbor’s door.

Heaving out a shaky breath, you knock.

And Toji Fushiguro never made you wait. He never had you standing in the hallway for more than two seconds before that heavy wooden door swings open…almost as if he’d been suspiciously standing by for this.

“Took ya long enough. Heh, I was beginning to think you almost wanted me to have it, doll.”

Oh.

Shit, you should’ve known - and it takes every ounce of will in your body to keep your gaze locked with the forest-green eyes sweeping down the expanse of your figure. Greedily.

Because Toji was showing off what looked like miles upon miles of slightly-tanned, bulging muscles that were just about seconds away from ripping straight through the thin, white undershirt that stuck to him like a second skin. Molding to every curve and dip down, down, down-

It’s not something new exactly, and if there was one thing you’d learned during your time here, it was that your eccentric neighbor wasn’t shy to show skin.

Especially around you.

In one hand was grasped the soft fabric of your cotton shorts, swallowed up by his thick digits. The other propping up on top of the door to flex his strong biceps in a way that makes you gulp.

You notice with a jolt that Toji’s pinkish tongue briefly peaks out to swipe over that sinful scar sitting prettily at the very edge of his smug smirk. Moving to hum cockily, “Cat got yer tongue?”

He knew what he was doing.

God, this was already shameful enough without him making it worse. You were only grateful that so far you’d been called over for only a few sundresses and t-shirts - nothing scandalous, yet.

“No-” you’re mumbling out. Trying oh-so-hard to not let your eyes flicker to the too-tight strain of his boxers around his thick thighs. Failing. “Just wondering how you probably need those shorts more than me, anyway.”

He didn’t - in fact, you’d prefer him without one.

A fat thumb of his finds its way to the hem of his boxers, tugging down so tantalizingly slightly to give you a sexy flash of skin. Lined with a sharp hipbone, and a dark happy trail - “S’that your way of tellin’ me you want me out of this, ma?”

“You wish, pervert.” You try to swipe at your shorts, only for Toji to dangle it far, far away from you. “I just meant those b-boxers look like they’ve seen better days. Years, even.”

“Hah?” Toji’s dragging out mockingly, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe. He’s crossing his hands, letting your sight be obscured by the display of his strong, rippling forearms. So close now that you feel his breath fan your face, could smell every waft of his cinnamony masculine scent. Grin only widening, “M’being nice enough to take the time outta my day to hand over your cute lil’ pieces of laundry and this is how ya talk to me? I have better things to do, y’know.”

Huffing, you’re ready with a quick apology on the very tip of your tongue to get this over with as soon as possible. That is, before-

“He’s lying.”

Both of you snap your heads down towards the direction of the sullen, deadpanning voice. And you already know by the wearied sigh at the end who it belongs to.

“Why, hello there, Megs-” you’re smiling, reaching out to ruffle those spikes of black hair that’d magically manifested beside the door. Ignoring Toji’s affronted grunts of “he never lets me do that.”

“He’s lying, y’know.” Megumi blinks his eyes up at you, and you silently wonder just how it was possible for a six-year-old to look like he’s seen all the horrors of the world already. He’s ruthless. Pointing a sharp, accusatory finger up at his father, “He doesn’t have better things to do. He’s been giggling disgustingly to himself in front of the door for the past-”

“That’s enough- why don’t you get some homework done, my son.” Toji’s clapping his hand immediately over Megumi’s mouth, wrangling his tiny, thrashing body over one shoulder before briefly disappearing inside.

“Just tell her!”

“I’m taking your iPad time away!”

It’s just about all that you hear from inside before he makes his appearance again - shaggy, black tresses now disheveled, high cheekbones flushed, and from the corner of your very obvious staring you notice a pearly bead of sweat disappear between his cushiony pecs. Though, your eyes follow, you didn’t mind…

“Tch- kids these days, right?” he’s gasping in a few hurried lungfuls. Planting the shorts into your open palms, his calloused pads linger on your hand. “S-so uh, I take that the dryer’s not working, yet?”

You’re sighing, rubbing your fingers over your throbbing temples. “Yeah, I told Higuruma- our landlord to look at it, but he’s still on that business trip and won’t be back for a while. Sorry about all this, Toji.”

“Please-” he’s waving. “You worry your pretty lil’ head too much, it’s not like m’complaining now. Am I?”

“Yeah but-”

“Besides. Why don’t I take a look at it?”

“What?” your brows scrunch together, and the thought of Toji being inside your home made your words tremble ever-so-slightly with- anticipation? Excitement? Want? Whatever it was, it made his dark brows raise, and you’re sure you had an utterly unexplainable look on your face right now. “Do you even know how to?”

He’s scoffing, eyes rolling at you with practice. “Asking me if I know how to fix shit- of course, I fuckin’ know how to fix a dryer. Probably better than ol’ clipboard Higuruma himself. You need to be taken care of, y’know.”

And, yes, that might be so - but more than that came the idea that Toji had to enter your home to do so. You couldn’t help but think of something else. Making you mutter out a heated, “I’ll…consider it.”

He smiles a smug smile, a tiny dimple digging into the very end of his cheek. “Tha’s what I like to hear, ma.”

The very second that door shuts, you’re rushing back to your own apartment. Shorts clutched to your thumping heartbeat and thighs slightly weaker than they were just a few minutes ago. Slightly…hotter. Ready to scramble back into your bedroom and create just a bit more laundry for tomorrow.

And only a few seconds later does Toji find himself doing the most pathetic fistbump behind closed doors. The beginnings of a sleazy smile on the very edges of his lips.

“Smooth, dad.”

“Now I’m serious about no iPad-”

Megumi’s running back into his room before that rasping threat has even left Toji’s predictable lips. Grumbling, he’s making his way to that godforsaken frog-cased iPad cushioned in the middle of the sofa, possibly to hide it away for a few hours.

And then, he sees it.

Now, one of the very reasons that Toji had rented this apartment in the first place was for that idyllic skyline winking up from over his balcony. Towering buildings, flashing lights, all overlooking his living room couch - which, unfortunately for him - or, well, fortunately more like - just-so-happened to be positioned right next to your own balcony lined with laundry.

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise for him to catch a fluttering piece of cotton or ratty sleep shirt of yours for him to tease about later.

With a sigh at the flashing piece of fabric, he’s shuttering the sliding window open - ready to call your pretty self over again before-

“Shit.” Toji hisses, deep baritone wavering. His brows are raising down at the stray cloth, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp. You really wear this type of shit? Well, he shouldn’t exactly be surprised but…

But this?

Because wrapped easily around his long fingers was a pair of pretty, pretty lace panties. Panties. All pink and see-through enough that Toji thinks he could see his own fingerprints through that flimsy excuse of underwear.

All of a sudden…his hands mindlessly raise up, up, up - mere inches away from his nose when…fuck.

“Damn, woman.” he’s spitting, snapping back to his senses. Ignoring the tightening in his pants to speedwalk his hasty way over to his bedroom in search of his phone. Just a few clicks away from texting you- “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me I swear-”

And, see, Toji Fushiguro isn’t the type to stutter.

He isn’t the pathetic type to let anyone else’s voice shoot a bolt of electricity down his spine - to choke right in the middle of his sentence.

But, you always did throw him off, didn’t you?

Because he’s letting his maw slack open in a sharp gasp- no, shudder at the muffled, drawling sound from beyond the walls. Fingers loosening around his phone in sheer shock when he snaps his head towards his shared wall where your bedroom was.

Where he could hear your honeyed voice. Moaning.

And Toji gulps…before locking the door to his bedroom.

Like an animal, he’s immediately sneaking up to press his greedy ear against the wall where it was emanating from. Aching for every tiny gasp and whine, he could just imagine the way you were splayed out across your plush mattress, fingers buried deep.

So cute.

“Please- it feels s-so good.” Comes your cute mewl, followed by the buzzing vrrrr—! of what he assumes to be that hot pink rose toy of yours that’d accidentally gotten delivered to his address last week. And Toji almost snickers.

“F-fuck-” he breathes out shakily. Unabashedly listening for more, more, more- “Ya can’t be serious- what a treat.”

And Toji knows he should be the bigger person and stop listening, he knows he should ignore the sultry way your trembling moans were sending shockwaves down to his tight boxers. But he can’t.

“Ngh- r-right there-” you’re whimpering, and Toji tuts at the way he could’ve found your sweet spots much earlier. “-yeah- hah- jus’ a little more- Toji-”

His phone clatters! to the ground.

Did you just say…his name?

“Fuck-” One massive hand of his comes down to clap over his jaw-dropped mouth, biting back an answering moan coming from something dangerously dark, primal from inside his heaving chest.

Shit, he can’t breathe - he can’t even think right now because every drop of blood in Toji’s entire body was sprinting down to his heavy cock smacking down his thigh. Rock-hard. Angry. Just twitching when your voice repeats his name louder.

“Toji—!”

Ah, there it was again. And with it, he can feel every shred of his sanity being thrown away. Only once- twice was enough to get Toji addicted. To have his melty mind yearning to hear it again. And again. And again and again and-

Toji feels pathetic.

Like some hormone-hazed, younger version of himself when his hands frantically fumble their way to hook into the elastic band of his boxers. Feeling absolutely zero guilt when he tugs-

Toji was hard. Painfully, furiously hard just from the mere sound of your voice. Swollen and sobbing. It was enough to have his fat, strawberry-pink tip smack! against his toned abs, smearing down a wet glissade of precum that makes him hiss. All but drooling at the scratch of your panties being wrapped delicately around his sensitive shaft.

“Oh god.” he’s breathing out, thumbing over a wet glide on the bawling divot of his swollen head. It’s pooling like a translucent little puddle, wet enough that those pearlescent beads gloss a wet trail all the way down to his wrist. And he’s popping the salted-caramel digit into his mouth. “Wh-who the fuck do ya think you are ta get me this hard, ma?”

The fat curve of his thumb latches on to plug up the very ends of his cock, stopping himself from wasting a single precious drop before listening.

For anything.

“C-c’mon–” Toji lets his heavy body lean against the wall after a few more sloppy squelches that pull from your saturated cunt. He could already hear how dripping wet you were. How needy. “Wanna hear your hah- pretty lips talk-”

Toji’s sinking his sharp canines onto his lower lip to hold back a groan. Because as much as he loved to hear himself talk - hearing you moan was worth more than anything. Even if it cost him his rationality to quieten down. Please-

Ah, his prayers are answered.

Because the wall slightly jitters with your vibrating voice once more. “Oh- sh-shit it feels so good-”

“Heheh, does it?” he’s grunting, drawing a slow wetness of swirls on the underside of his slit. Hard enough to send him seeing stars. “Tell me- t-tell me more, ma.”

And could you read his mind?

Because whatever’s left of it certainly seems to think so at the way that no sooner are the words spilling from his babbling lips that you’re feeding his blessed ears with a few more syrupy sweet whines. And Toji shivers when he hears the creak of your bed.

Damn…he could make it break. He’s sure.

The thought is enough to send his hips rutting into his fist, furiously fucking up into it like he was angry. Like he wishes he could do with you-

“O-oh-” Toji gasps out a hot, condensed breath feeling the slight massage of your thin panties at his twitchy balls. He’s unsteadily picking its sticky cloth apart to press it even deeper into the drenched tufts of black at his hilt, down every thumping vein that’s lightning-bolted down his length. “This thing b-barely even wraps around my cock, doll.”

He’s hot. So, so hot. Latching onto the hem of his undershirt with his teeth to swipe across his sensitive nipples.

Burning.

And, really, he didn’t know what was worse for his poor self - your noises from just the other room, or the way your panties felt so good down his cock in this one.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He twirls your panties around his fat hilt, meshing against the creamy pink at his hefty base. Fucking it up, up, up with pound after pound that half-leaves the poor thing in tatters. Well, he sure hoped you didn’t like this pair too much. “Probably so fuckin’ oh- wet now, huh? Did I do that? Didn’t know you were s-such a slut f’me.”

Every slobbering drag down his length has Toji’s dark brows knitting together. Back and forth back and forth back and- So hard.

So hot and heavy. He could barely catch his breath, sweat perspires across his forehead, and Toji could almost taste the metallic tang of blood when he’s holding back every rasping ah! ah! ah! just to hear your voice.

It was agonizing.

And he couldn’t help but imagine the way you were probably toying your tired fingers over your clit - the way you’d probably be so shy at how he could so clearly hear you. Killing Toji that it was the only thing he could do.

SLAM!

“Shit-” Toji’s snapping his head up at the mindless way his free hand had come smashing down onto the nearby drawer for any shred of balance. Sharp ears searching desperately for any sign that you’d heard-

“Ngh- yes- jus’ a bit more-”

He breathes out a guilty sigh of relief when the saturated slurps of your cunt only continue. Filling his mind sloppily like his favorite song. Gulping in a harsh wad of saliva before spitting a thick stream right onto the very edge of his plump, reddish head. His hulking body wracks with a violent shudder as it drip! drip! drips down every tender spot on his swollen cock. Beading down to cover his heavy balls in a thin sheen of spit.

“Look what you’ve done.” he’s spitting. Other hand coming down to rub lazy, massaging circles around his bulbous, cum-filled sacks. The sheer stimulation enough to have his head lolling drunkenly against the wall.

“M’so close-” Your voice only makes Toji fuck into his hand even harder - if only it was you. You, you, you - the only thing playing around his currently stupid mind. “-g-gonna cum ah-”

That makes him bawl out another furious wave of precum staining your panties see-through, glinting with every flutter down his raw cock. Faster. It was building and building up so close-

“C-close already?” he’s snickering, bending at the knees with how weak he was. Toji’s biceps flex and and ache with just how wildly he was fucking up into his fist, abs rippling with each wild buck. He half-wonders if he’d be able to see that pretty frilly pattern of your panties imprinted on his cock the next day. Over and over- “I woulda m-made you cum sooner.”

Would your beautiful eyes roll to the very back of your head when you did?

Would you beg him to cum, too? To fill you up. To breed you. Shit, that had his hefty shaft twitch in his hands, electricity flashing behind Toji’s eyes.

Would you moan his name - oh, please moan his name.

“P-please-” Toji finds himself gasping, and his entire body was hunched over now. Pathetic. Waiting for any second that you’d reach your high - he was a gentleman, after all. “Cum f’me- ah fuck fuck fuck-” Twiddling a manicured thumb in a slow line underneath his sensitive slit, it was making him moan so dangerously loud. “-please- cum on this fuckin’ cock, ma.”

“Fuck! Toji-” Comes your yelp, and it makes his mouth water. Breath held in a choked-up gasp in his puffing chest, “-m’cumming.”

He could see it already - just how pretty you’d look with your head thrown back and your back arching into his cock when you finally reach your high.

Now, Toji doesn’t know what overtook him to drag those drenched panties up to his face - to press it thoroughly against his nose and smell your essence. Breathing it in. drinking it in. But he can’t pretend like he hadn’t imagined it many, many times before.

And it makes him cum

It makes him shudder with a heavy puff of air, once. Twice. Before dumping and dumping out stringy wads of seed until your soft panties were soaked.

“Oh shit- shit shit shit-” he spews out a slurring slew of profanities, painfully hard cock bursting at the end with wet splatters of cum. So much of it. It’s making such a filthy mess that he almost feels guilty.

Jaw clenching when he’s forced to part with your panties with a pained gruff, sliding it along his thoroughly coated cock. Hi cum seeps through the fabric and into a milky puddle that pools at his wrist, dripping down a milky sheen across his skin.

“Mmpf–” his mouth salivates. A low, disappointed scoff bursting at the back of his throat when your own obscene noises quieten down. He missed you already. Dewy eyes veering to the back of his head, he’s only wondering how much prettier these would look on you. Still as ruined. “You’d be lucky to get these fuckin’ panties back, woman.”

Bzzt–!

From its discarded place on the floor, he can read the notification flashing across the phone screen.

Cutie-next-door: I’ve decided - can you come by tomorrow to fix the dryer, pleeeease?

---

“-ah, ya see when this vent is clogged s’gonna stop working. And so what you hafta do is-”

You weren’t listening.

You couldn’t.

Because Toji Fushiguro was sprawled out across your cramped kitchen - completely shirtless.

You had half the mind to turn him away after he’d knocked on your door with absolutely no sign of any upperwear - that sleazy grin plastered all over his face begging the answer to whether this was on purpose. To tease you. “Can move better this way” your ass.

But the thought of having even more of your laundry fly away, forcing you to potentially face this very same display multiple times is what had you opening your front door wider to let him inside.

No matter how much you would’ve appreciated the view…

And so here you were, squirming in one corner of the kitchen while Toji worked on your dryer. Sweat sheening down his swole muscles, disappearing in tempting beads down underneath his low-hanging pants. Slight smears of grease decorate his pecs, and you have to cross your arms to stop yourself from thumbing them away. He was so handy.

Shit, this was why you’d dolled-up just a bit more than usual. He was so-

“-doll? Doll.”

“Uh-” you’re yelping, blinking your eyes back up to meet an extraordinarily smug smirk now directed at you. “W-what were you saying?”

“Heh, I was saying you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he titters with a slight rumble, tools clinking when he’s taking off his bulky gloves. “Ya can enjoy the view later, but I was askin’ if ya had anything to dry right now to test this piece of junk.”

Urgently, you’re looking towards your empty laundry basket. “Sorry, seems that I dried them all out yesterday.”

“No pressure, besides-” You can only watch when he shuffles a hand inside one of his curiously bulging pant pockets. “-I came prepared.”

“Wh-wha- where did you get that?”

Because held so daintily within Toji’s cocky clutches, dangled one of your missing pairs of panties. They looked recently washed, and you’re reaching with a yelp for it. Falling onto your knees to match his seated position - which, obviously didn’t mean he’d hand it over.

Why would he? This was Toji Fushiguro.

He only throws them into your dryer, before closing the door with a dark snicker, “More like why let them fly their merry way over to my balcony again. Honestly- you call me the tease but look who’s talking.”

“You’re saying I’m the tease?” you shrill. The embarrassment was getting to you now - it was overconsuming you - and if the leering smirk on Toji’s face was anything to go by, you were sure that it was visible.

“If the shoe- or, well, panties fit.”

He was so cocky about his stupid lil’ joke.

You stab a rude finger right between the valley of his pecs, copping a feel of the velvety smooth skin. “Sh-shut up, if you want to talk about a tease then let’s talk about who showed up to fix a dryer shirtless.”

“Part of the outfit.” he shrugs. Tilting his head up at you, and shit, it finally hits you how precariously close you two are right now. Toji’s splayed out on your cool kitchen tile, while you’re straddling his slender waist with jittery legs, pressed up against the heated proximity of his unfairly shirtless body. Chest-to-chest. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the view, little miss had-a-fun-time-yesterday.”

You blink, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But in true Toji fashion, the closest to an answer you get is a large hand attaching roughly onto your waist. Jostling your body close enough for him to breathe out in a feverish chuckle - hot, and purposeful against your ear. “The walls are thin. Just sayin’.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You knew exactly what he was talking about - and so did he.

“...I heard you, too, y’know.”

Ah, you can now live your life happily knowing that you managed to make the ever-confident Toji gasp. You managed to make him part his lips in a slight gape, green eyes glinting with a hint of something dangerous as they widen. His sensory digits pinch at your hips.

“You mean-”

“Yes.”

Uncharacteristically, Toji takes a few gulping seconds to find his voice. And when he does - the very sound is enough to send shivers down your spine and make you wonder for a split-second whether this was really him. Hoarse, pained when he muses, “You heard me and still continued?”

Instantly, you’re trying to form excuses. “No! I mean- yes. It’s just that…”

“Heh, cute. You continued because of me- didn’t ya?”

Your jaw drops in shock, now a slightly defensive tone bleeding in with the embarrassment of your actions. “I-I mean I was doing- it- just fine before I heard you.”

Toji cocks his head, and only says one thing - “Prove it.”

“T-Toji this is embarrassing-”

But oh, all that Toji was wondering was whether he’d knocked his head on that goddamn dryer and gone to heaven already.

Because splayed out for all his pleasure on the cushiony bed was you - quivering legs straddled wide open, your back arched in such a delicious curve that makes his mouth water. Your silken sheets were disheveled and sloppy enough that you’d have to pray the dryer works now. Glistening cunt winking down at him eagerly, just begging him in cute, slurring squelches after every buzzing push of your vibrator.

And Toji? Seated right underneath your cute cunt - hovering mere inches away from sitting on his cocky smirk.

All he’d been imagining. As gorgeous as how he’d imagined you yesterday- no, even more so.

Toji’s leering up at you, muscular thighs manspreading even more to show off his furiously hard erection. “Shhh sh sh-” Toji hums, eyes unwavering from right between your legs. “She’s the one talkin’ to me right now, doll.”

And surely enough, it’s almost like he’s having a conversation with your pussy. Nodding and drunkenly humming along to every slurp that resounds across the heady room. “Tha’s right, make her- make her even wetter for me.”

He’s letting loose his long pinkish tongue to catch the drops of your sweet, sweet juices that slide down his throat.

His breath is so steaming hot against your cunt. Feverish. You huff out a dragged-out whine, kissing up your plump clit with the very edge of your rose toy. Just barely teasing the sensitive hood, “B-but I need you so-”

“Now now, what did I say?” he tuts away your stubborn moans easily. And you’re gazing over your shoulder upon the utterly unapologetic grin that falls across Toji’s face when he tugs down his own pants to flash you with the fat, rotund curve of his ruddied tip. Curling his fingers over the very top, “You don’t need me, remember- Let that pretty pussy talk with me or all you’re gonna do is watch.”

Except now you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to.

Your eyes are glazing over with a fresh wall of need when they fall greedily upon the peaking sight of Toji’s fat cock. So massive that it makes your jaw slip open, your cunt gushing out in a few gushes of slick.

“Oh shit- shit-” his eyes widen at the sight, so thoroughly honed in. Almost as if he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking to you. Doesn’t even know. And a few ringing squelches is all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan. “That got ya wet, ma, didn’t it? Made your cute ngh- c-cunt happy?”

“Yes-” you’re gasping, winking away the overstimulated tears in your eyes. “B-but I want you-”

“Tell me exactly what you want, doll.”

So bossy, you want to snap back.

But right now you’re too hypnotized by the slutty sight of him to say a word. The way he seemed so ruined. That you can’t help but whimper, “I want you to hah- make me cum.”

And it’s just a split-second later when his brawny arms come wrapping around your jittery waist, hauling you over like some glorified rag doll to seat your fatigued legs down. Your dripping cunt meeting his mouth in a sultry, sultry French kiss.

He doesn’t waste a second longer - almost as if beating himself up for all the time wasted - before dragging his tongue to open your presoaked folds. Swirling so hotly to smear them out across his lips, Toji dredges his raised scar across your most tender spots and moans.

Sweet.

So sweet.

“This- this fuckin’ delicious?” He sounded like he was losing his mind, swatting aside your hand. “Move that fuckin’ hand. Y-you were- you were holding out on this? Could eat this cute cunt all the time- could marry ya-”

Proposing and proposing and kissing-

He latches down his glistening canines around your clit and pinches, almost as if a little punishment. And you could practically see the delight lighting up his dark eyes when your cunt slowly grows even more drenched. Little masochist, he’s thinking.

You yelp when without any sort of warning his cheeks hollow out in a sudden suck at your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue over it. “H-how’s that feel?” he giggles - giggles. “Better than your imagination or what?”

It already was.

But you couldn’t let his ego expand anymore than it already has, so the only thing you’re managing to do is trap a few sweat-dampened locks of his hair and drag your slobbering cunt down Toji’s mean mouth. Partly because you needed it, partly because you needed him to shut up.

Choking out, “D-don’t get so full of yourself, Toji–”

“Full of myself?” he’s chuckling - face smeared with a translucent mask of glistening slick that told you exactly why he should be full of himself. It glosses over his curled lips and drips down Toji’s sharp jawline. “Full of myself? Gimme that-”

Instantly, your till buzzing vibrator is being snatched meanly out of your hands. “S’this what ya want, instead, ma?”

Toji didn’t expect an answer.

And you can’t give him one.

Because that furiously jittery probe is being bullied right between your puffy pussy lips, licking a languid line down the edge of your sloppy hole. Before he’s bullying the long end inside your eager entrance-

“Does it feel good?” he’s taunting. Sinking down onto your clit and pulling. “Oh yeah- feels great. Doesn’t it?”

But it’s such a mouthful that sputtered out into your clit. The vibrations of white-hot pleasure making your spine bow like such a slut into Toji’s ravenous mouth. And your jaw slack open in the most strained of whines, “Y-yeah feels so-mmpf-”

Immediately, your mouth is being firmly shut closed with one of Toji’s mountainous palms, and he snickers. Giving you pretty lil’ cunt a pat that has splatters of slick speckling all the way to his lips - ones that he gladly licks up. And then some at the remnant excess all over your thighs. “I was talking to her.”

“Y-you’re so mean.”

At this, he pulls back and blows a heated gust of air against your puckered hole. “And you’re fucking drenched.” That spearing bullet is lodged firmly against a few tenderized sweet spots that make you keen. “And she’s saying…s’not enough.”

You were sure he was talking for himself.

Or…was he?

Honestly, you don’t even know - you didn’t even realize what you were missing until the fat girths of Toji’s digits shove their filthy way into your narrow opening. Already so stuffed, yet, he’s scissoring aside the vibrator into the gooey depths of your walls.

Either you could take him or he’ll make space.

Whistling out in awe, “Dontcha think this feels muuuch better?” As if to whittle out another one of your syrupy sweet noises, you’re being gifted with another sopping wet thwack! against the ready nub of your clit. Before Toji wraps his scarred lips around it and sucks. “Look- she’s even fuckin’ wetter.”

You didn’t even have to see to be able to know - because you could hear.

Toji was steadily pummeling your cunt with the most staggering smashes of the rounded curves of his fingertips into your sweetest spots. Jostling the vibrator inside, knuckles smashing it with friction to rub up against your constricting walls.

Honestly, it was just so much. You felt stuffed.

“F-feels like m’gonna explode.” you mewl at the heady thump! thump! thump! shuddering all across your body - and you didn’t know whether it was because of the thundering pulse in your ears, because of the way Toji’s fingers were crashing and thrusting against your tender g-spot. His neatly cut fingernails glide soaking wet grazes over and over in a sloppy staccato. “Ah! Right there, it f-feels so good-”

“Tch, you think I don’t know?” Toji’s rolling his eyes, muttering his words into your sopping slit. His free hand comes slamming down in a harsh smack! against your ass to make you lug against his face faster. “Ride yourself on me, ma.”

You stumble through it - yearning for more.

“Faster.”

“I-I’m trying.’”

But it wasn’t enough. Obviously.

And Toji’s impatiently revolving one hand around the curve of your waist to make you press down hard in the most sultry gyrations. Around and around it had him hypnotized. “Not tryin’ hard ‘nough. Cuz this pretty lady h-here’s just crying to cum, doll. Ya hear her?”

How could you not?

It’s all that you replay in your mind. Accompanied with a shot ngh ngh ngh that was curdling at the very back of Toji’s throat. Whispered into every graze of his tongue down your slit, you took a quick glance backwards to catch the way that he was properly fucking his fist now.

Long, thorough drags down his achy cock to bead out wet sloshes of precum. Only getting faster. Sloppier. Red and angry-

“Shit.” you’re whimpering, hands steadying on either side of his bulging deltoids. It felt like your very bones were rattling along with the vibrator. Nails digging in to the muscle, “I th-think m’close- think m’gonna-”

And oh Toji’s eyes stray to the back of his head at how reminiscent this was of just yesterday. Snickering a heavy, “You ‘think’? I know she’s so fuckin’ close. Can feel her. Isn’t she? Gonna cum? Gonna make a ngh- mess on me, is she?”

Answeringly, he’s leaving another few smacks! on your mound that have your gooey walls fluttering, the double penetration of both the buzzing bullet and his fingers too much. Too close. You feel every delicate bundle of your nerves exasperate.

And it’s impossible not to mumble out drunkenly - embarrassingly. “Sh-she is.”

It’s so rough.

Both your release and the way that Toji was fucking you through it - because the very moment he hears your breath hitch in a saturated manner similar to last time, he’s tugging out your buzzing vibrator and toppling it somewhere over the bed. Replacing it with every long inch of his heated tongue-

Like hell he’d have you cumming on some damn plastic before his tongue.

“Shit- it feels so-” Barely managing to formulate the words into coherent syllables. Your body convulses when he swiftly pecks your pretty clit with the rose toy instead. “-so good- ngh! M’cumming m’cumming ah-”

Toji’s fucking you through your high with the double stimulation of his fingers and his tongues spreading open your snug insides mercilessly. Ruthlessly. Wave upon wave of pleasure that had your toes curling, vision flashing white. Sensitive pussy dredging up from the very bottom of his sharp chin all the way up to his button nose.

It’s adorable how tired you were already, already huffing and puffing for breath. He could almost laugh if he didn’t have a mouthful already.

“Yeah tha’s right-” he slurps, more than talks. Thick digits curling tight and thumbing over his twitchy divot to wall up that velvety wisp of cum from escape. Leaving kiss after kiss to have your drooling cunt ride his sexy features faster. “-give it t’me.” Greedy. “Give it alllll to me.”

But even that didn’t seem like enough.

Because even after your aggressive orgasm was petering out into mere tingles at your quivering pussy, even after he’d slurped up every tiny drop of your honeyed juices - Toji Fushiguro was starved.

So completely ravenous when he speaks, “I think…she’s sayin she wants ta squirt, doll.”

“Wh-what?” you’re breathing - you didn’t even know if that was possible.

With a surprising amount of gentleness, Toji’s placing you to sit all prettily on his spread legs. Just slobbering your pussy lips in an innocent smooch over his hardness.

“Heh, what? Don’t trust me?” Toji cocks his head down at you in sheer smugness, a glistening gloss stained all around his lips. It made him look so fucked-out. And he felt like he already was - but Toji wouldn’t admit that. No, he’s only murmuring a wet, “Or are ya scared that m’gonna get ya ah- addicted?”

You showcase him with a slight pout that makes his riled-up cock twitch in one hand. That makes him immediately kiss it away - letting you taste him. Taste yourself.

It’d already taken everything in him to stop himself from cumming just by making out with your cunt.

“No s’just that- I’ve never squirted before…”

His words are sure. Confident. He’s echoing them from not too long ago, “Lemme take a look at that.”

And apparently Toji’s definition of taking a look is to slide the curve of his thick thumb in-between your dribbling slit. Up and down until his lips curl in a smile, “Well she’s tellin’ me that she can-oh shit, look at that.” Those very same fingers wrapping around the hilt of his thick cock to nudge your folds apart. “So why don’t I fix that, hm?”

God, Toji is so much bigger than he looked - which was staggering considering his sheer bulge was enough to send your mind reeling.

The curve of his fat tip bathes in a few more of your syrupy drops before bullying inside-

“O-oh my god-” Your voice wavers, sweat simmering all down your body at how dizzyingly Toji was spearheading your cunt open. Wide. So much of him that you didn’t know whether to buck your hips away or down for more, more, more- “S’too big- shit, don’t even know if I can ngh- t-take it, Toji–!”

“Oh, say my name like that once more n’ you’re gonna ah- hafta take every inch.” he grunts out, snarling smile making your gummy walls flutter around him.

You’re being fed every solid inch, Toji’s girth making your tight circumference stutter. Gaping your sloppy hole wide open around his expanding cock- shit, just the slightest peak into your heavenly depths was enough to have his fat length swelling. Pushing into your tender sweet spots when he grows.

“Y-you got even bigger?” you gasp, and it makes him cackle.

Throwing his head back to laugh, “Of course I got f-fuckin’ bigger when you feel like this, ma.” And two of his roughened palms glide their greedy pathway downwards to spread your thighs even further. Using gravity to his lewd advantage to help you gulp down your every mindless grind to simply fit himself inside. “W-where have ya been all my life.”

And Toji sounded like he was genuinely distraught that he didn’t know.

He was genuinely so upset, lower lip wobbling with pure bliss once your overstuffed pussy was resting on his sharp hip bones. Giving an experimental little gyration of his hips to swirl his shaft around your walls, it makes you whine.

“Tha’s what m’fuckin’ talking about.”

And then in a split-second, you’re being slammed onto your back and wrangled into the meanest mating press you never thought possible.

It’s like Toji was out of control.

Feral.

A slight trickle of drool trailing down the edge of his growling lips, “Shit- take my fucking cock ngh- take it all, doll. Ya don’t know how long I’ve been d-dreaming of this.”

“Yes yes yes-” you sputter. Edging your uselessly limp thighs to lock around Toji’s straining neck - and if he was going easy on you before. Then oh, you weren’t ready for the way this makes him snap his flexing body down to fold you in half. His sweat-beaded forehead knocking gently into yours, “-been ah- been dreamin’ of this ever since I m-moved in-”

Shit.

The thick pudge of Toji’s relentless head careens into the bullseye of your g-spot easily. And Toji titters to himself about the pretty moans that drag from your shot throat - that is, if he had the self-control.

Because your previous words were still thundering in his pussydrunken mind, and it makes him gasp. It makes him shoot his eyes open almost comically, it makes him crash his lips into your with a sullen hiss. “Give a man a fuck- warning. You c-can’t just say- things- like- that-”

As if to prove his point, he’s planting a few more heated French kisses against your sweetest spots. How he mapped them out so quickly you had no idea.

His feverish breath hovers over your own mouth, gusts bounding out with every pound into your cunt. He’s bruising the circular branding of his sobbing tip down your spongy cervix, a tiny ah! of disappointment leaving Toji’s stern lips at the recoil that had him pushing back from the very bottom of your pussy.

He’s so filthy.

“Because what if–” It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s still babbling drunkenly, flicking over a calloused thumb over your clit to get your delirious attention. “-are ya listening, woman? What- ah- what if I told ya I was the fuckin’ same. Wanted to f-fuck this cute cunt the moment I saw ya, wanted to ruin her- to breed her-”

And just when he’s heaving in such a sharp inhale. As if he’s spoken too much.

Yet, even through the way that Toji was fucking you stupid - you still manage to latch onto his words.

“Y-you wanted to ah- cum inside?” you’re blinking up at him innocently in a way that only made his hips jackhammer against yours harder. Teasing your sensitive clit with a pinch. “Tell me, Toji.”

God- you said his name.

Shit shit shit, didn’t he tell you not to-

“Yes!” Toji’s shuddering out, hefty balls twitching and thwacking their tight, cum-filled sacks against your ass. He’s fucking you so wildly. The mating press that he had you in let him glide a wet thrust down every single nook and cranny inside you. Every forbidden sweet spot. “Wanted- wanted it so badly- ah-”

Batting your teary lashes, “How badly?”

Two of Toji’s mean fingers come up to smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, and he’s using that cutely ajar opening of your mouth to spit. A thick, honeyed wad of saliva that purposefully splatters along the edge of your lips - because Toji had perfect aim. He could’ve streamlined it all neatly between your lips.

But you looked and tasted so sweet this way.

When he could just kiss it away filthily with a drag of his tongue, “Shit- what a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Ya really know how to m-make me lose my mind, hm?” Splaying out one large palm about halfway down your stomach, he’s exploring for a lewd cylindrical nudge. A throb when his thickened head was smashing into your g-spot. “If ya i-insist- m’gonna fill ya up until I can feel it-” Pressing down. Hard. “Here.” And now he’s running his mouth a mile a minute, he’s dazed where his cadence grows sloppy. “Until you’re overspilling. Until yer all r-round and hngh- glowing and shit-”

God, he was flying too close to the sun.

Egging him on, he was fucking you into the bed like he was furious at you. Lurching out rickety creaks from the bedframe at his riotous slams! Teasing, “S-s’that it?”

“Is that it? I-is that it?” he’s repeating. Over and over like a humorless mantra. “No tha’s not- ah- fucking ‘it’. M’gonna shit- make you mine. Gonna fuck a b-baby or two into ya.” Shockwaves of electric white flashing down his spine when your gripping walls cling around him like a velvety channel. Stumbling through words, “So they’re gonna know- ah- th-they’re all gonna know what I did. Hah- how I ruined ya…”

You can only sob, “Toji– m’gonna-”

Stimulating tears gather up beside Toji’s eyelids with every pressurized ram, and he finds it in himself to rasp a drunken giggle. “G-gonna give Megumi a lil’ sibling, ma?”

He doesn’t have to hear your response, he doesn’t think he can. Because no sooner are you crashing into your orgasm that Toji is as well.

He realizes before you - far, far before you at how you were squirting.

Drizzling your juices in a coating gloss down his cock, his abs, some spattering up to Toji’s lips. He took a look into it alright.

Your bolting waves of bliss intruded by his rummaging cock. Twitching once. Twice. Before struggling out thick gushes of sweltering hot seed.

It’s splattering onto the very back of your bruised and battered cervix in a wet thwack! Oozing out the sides of your silt, you feel your gummy walls being inflated. The tug of ribbons upon ribbons of cum being fucked into sloshes inside and coats your melty walls like a second, sticky skin.

THUD!

Toji collapses onto his wearied forearms, caging you in with his big beefy biceps. Hips slowing down to tiny, subconscious ruts wrenching out the most obscene wet squelches. “Th-the heh- the fuckin’ bed.”

Only then are you batting your fatigued eyes open to realize that one side of the bed was sagging dangerously. “Toji did you b-break the bed?”

“Ah- so what?” And he’s scooping up your pliant body easily into his arms. Lifting you. Manhandling you. Pulling out of your split cunt for just a second to slam! you down onto your nearby work desk. The cool mahogany against your front makes you hiss, “I’ll jus’ t-take a ah- look at it.”

With this, he’s pressing down on the slightly bloated area near your cunt. Gaping. Gushing out thick remnants of his cum - it’s like he was playing around.

The sight so heavenly that with a dragged-out gasp he’s finding his weepy cock blast out a few more wispy strands of cum. Shit.

“Shit- marry me-” Toji’s throwing his head back with a whimper - a whimper - when his jolting cock veers dangerously into the territory of shooting overstimulated blanks. “Marry me I-I swear. Gonna ah- put a pretty ring on ya, my doll.”

Which is why he’s swirling around his greedy pointer around your gaping entrance. Toying with the creamy ring of seed that’d painted its way around his thick base. Toji pools a few creamy dredges on his fingers and shoves them into your babbling mouth. “Ngh- Toji–!”

“Nowww, let’s see ngh- already finished off th-the bed-” he’s rattling off. Counting on a few fingers of his, “-we have the ohhh fuck- don’t squeeze m-me like that, ma, m’still sensitive- this desk, the floor- the dryer.”

“The dryer?” you mewl. “But you j-jus’ fixed that-”

“Ah, consider it a lil’ payment…along with those panties of yours, of course.”

And it’s only later.

Hours and hours later, with your bed frame broken on one leg, your desk absolutely shattered, and your carpet soiled with a few whiteish rivulets that you’re finding yourself seated into a tight full nelson on top of the dryer. Toji still splitting you apart inside, shooting blanks before the front door rattles with a sudden knock! knock! knock!

A deep voice resounding from outside, “Anybody home? It’s Shiu Kong. Higuruma sent me here to fix the dryer.”

“Fuckin’ Shiu…wanna let him in?”

---

“Hello, Shiu? How did the fixing go?” It’s by the next day that Higuruma gets a call in the middle of his important business meeting. One that would probably stay with him for a long, long time. “What do you mean the dryer is broken beyond repair?!”

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

Plagiarism not authorized.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fic #toji #toji fushiguro #tonywrites

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goldenbrowns · 12 days ago

Text

DRIVING ME BACKWARDS ୨୧ || clark kent x fem!reader || oneshot

summary: Clark Kent is usually calm under pressure—he writes award-winning articles, apparently interviews Superman on a daily basis? But when it comes to you, he becomes a walking disaster. He fumbles with his coffee. Trips over nothing. Forgets how doors work. Jimmy tries not to tease him about it, Lois rolls her eyes, and Perry White, all-knowing and omnipotent, decides to assign you both a story— specifically an issue on Superman... Inevitably, you grow closer.

word count: 11k

author's note: tbh i made clark more pathetic than usual, but that's just me indulging in my own fondness for sad little men. anyways, i watched superman, and david corenswet somehow made me want clark kent and his stupid little glasses, ugh. henry cavill wouldn't have known how to spark such whimsy onto this character, only david knew how to truly inspire this sense of raw patheticness — which, btw, i'm eating tf up!!!!

warnings: sub!clark, sort of switch!clark, service top!reader, spit as lube, dirty talking, handjob, oral m!receiving, mild dacryphilia, mild language, size kink, clark is HUNG, dom/sub dynamics, and i kinda blue ball you towards the end, sorry...

It all started about a week after your first day at the Daily Planet—an office full of chaos, newsprint, and the faint hum of old typewriters mixed with the chatter of determined reporters. You had just settled in at your new desk, trying to carve out your little space in the madness when Clark Kent, all glasses and nervous energy, came barreling toward you with a coffee cup in hand. You barely had time to look up before hot liquid spilled across your papers and the wooden surface, the rich scent of coffee filling the air like an awkward apology.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! I don’t know what happened, I—” Clark stammered, eyes wide and embarrassed, already grabbing napkins and paper towels as if trying to erase the very moment. His face was a soft shade of red, and you couldn’t help but notice how utterly clumsy and pathetic he looked in that instant, fumbling like a rookie instead of the calm, mild-mannered reporter you’d imagined. You barely made much of it—accidents happen. “It’s fine,” you said, waving him off with a small smile. “Really.”

But that was just the beginning.

Over the next few days, you noticed Clark acting…odd around you, and not in the usual shy, office-cute way. It was like he was walking a tightrope between wanting to get closer and being scared to take even a single step. Sometimes, you’d catch him staring at you from across the room, the faintest crease of worry on his brow, only for him to look away so fast you wondered if you’d imagined it. Once, when you passed by the coffee machine, he offered to get you a cup, but his hands trembled so much you ended up grabbing the pot yourself, smiling awkwardly at his flushed face.

“Clark, you okay?” you asked lightly, amused.

“Yeah! Just… uh, just fine. Thanks,” he said, clearing his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets like that would somehow hide his jitteriness. “I mean, no problem.”

Sometimes he’d stand too close when you worked late on a deadline, hovering just on the edge of your personal space, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Other times, you caught little things: the way his glasses fogged up when you leaned over to look at his computer screen while discussing an issue, or how his voice stumbled when he tried to ask you anything at all. It was subtle, but it was there—and it made you smile.

One afternoon, as you were digging through a stack of papers, Clark shuffled over nervously, holding a crumpled piece of paper. “I, uh, wrote a story. Would you want to—maybe—read it? And tell me what you think? I'm not so sure about it...” His voice was soft, almost hopeful. You looked up, met his uncertain gaze, and felt your heart skip.

“Of course,” you said, reaching out to take the paper. “I’d love to.”

He smiled, that shy, clumsy smile that made the whole office seem quieter somehow. And that’s when you realized: Clark Kent might be the most awkward person on the planet, but he was also the only one who seemed completely and hopelessly human in this whole damn office.

A few days later, you found yourself leaning over the cluttered desk of Jimmy Olsen, the newsroom’s resident charmer and self-proclaimed ladies’ man. You were deep in discussion about a tricky story idea—a feature on Metropolis’s urban development that could either make or break your footing in the Daily Planet. Jimmy, with his easy grin, was trying to convince you that the flashy angle was the way to go, while you argued for something more nuanced and honest.

“Trust me, you want the splash, the drama. People eat that up,” Jimmy said, his voice smooth as he clicked through photos on his screen. “Plus, you know I have a knack for making stories sexy.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Sexy isn’t exactly the word I’d use for city planning.”

As you spoke, your attention drifted briefly to the side, catching a movement behind Jimmy. There, just a few feet away, was Clark Kent. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by something else entirely—a crease in his brow that you didn’t remember seeing before, subtle but sharp, like a storm cloud hanging over his features. His eyes flicked rapidly between his computer screen, Jimmy, and you, like a silent witness to the conversation. You almost caught the way his chest puffed out slightly, the faintest sign of tension in the otherwise quiet room.

Before you could ponder it further, Lois Lane, ever sharp and always one step ahead, slid her chair beside you with a sly smile. She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper, “Looks like someone’s a little jealous.”

You blinked, glancing back toward Clark, who had quickly masked whatever emotion was crossing his face with a careful smile. But the faint flush rising in his cheeks gave him away.

“Jealous?” you echoed softly, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Of Jimmy Olsen?”

Lois just shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, you know, Jimmy’s kind of the office heartthrob. But Clark’s the one who’s all awkward and nervous whenever you’re around.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think you’re imagining things.”

Before Lois could even answer, Perry White appeared beside you, his usual commanding presence filling the corner of the room. His sharp eyes swept across the desks, quickly surveying the hustle and bustle of reporters typing away, phones ringing, and the occasional shout from the bullpen. He cleared his throat, a sound that immediately drew a little more focus.

“Alright, people,” Perry announced, “I’m making my rounds to see that everyone’s on top of their stories. No slacking today.”

You seized the opportunity, glancing up at him. “Perry, what do you think about the story I was debating with Jimmy? The corruption piece or the human-interest one?”

Perry nodded thoughtfully, about to answer, when you leaned in a bit, dropping your voice. “Actually, there’s an even more interesting lead—something about Superman. Some new developments, maybe worth pursuing.”

His eyes flicked over to Clark’s direction, and a knowing smirk crept across his face. “Well, if you’re chasing Superman stories, it’d be ideal for you to work with Kent. He’s been getting exclusive interviews lately. No one else has that kind of access.”

Clark, who had been quietly typing away at his computer, seemed to catch the mention of his name. He didn’t look up, but you could have sworn his cheeks instantly turned an awfully bright shade of pink—like someone just turned on a spotlight directly on his face. He was clearly trying hard not to look like he was eavesdropping, but the subtle shift in his posture betrayed him.

Perry’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation, sharp and unmistakable: “Kent! You’re working with her on this one. Get your notes together, and no slacking off, got it?”

Clark jerked slightly at the sudden call, fingers hovering awkwardly above his keyboard before he forced himself to look up. His eyes met Perry’s briefly, then shifted toward you. For a moment, the pink flush in his cheeks deepened, betraying the storm of nerves swirling beneath his calm exterior.

“Yes, sir,” Clark managed, voice a little tighter than usual. He quickly averted his gaze, fiddling with the edge of his glasses as if to steady himself.

You smiled, trying to mask your own flutter of excitement. “Looks like we’re partners,” you said, leaning forward. “Guess I’m stuck with your coffee-spilling antics for a while.”

Clark’s lips twitched into what might have been a nervous smile. “I’ll try not to ruin the story this time,” he said softly, though you caught the hint of earnestness in his tone.

As Perry moved on, casting one last sharp glance around the room, Clark stood up, gathering his papers with a sort of determined clumsiness that only made him more endearing.

The very next day, the usual clatter of the newsroom was punctuated by a sharp thud as Perry White slammed a hefty stack of papers down on your desk, his expression all business and barely contained frustration. “Here,” he barked, eyes narrowing over the rims of his glasses. “This is your next big assignment. You two need to get to the bottom of it—fast.”

You flipped open the top sheet and began scanning the headline and notes: “Rising Movement to Place Superman Under Government Control.” The article outlined a growing faction arguing that Superman’s immense power was too dangerous to be left to his own judgment—that the world would be safer if he operated strictly under government orders rather than acting independently. The report highlighted heated debates in political circles, public protests, and the concerns of civil liberties groups.

Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced up to see Clark quietly approaching your desk, curiosity already written on his face. You tapped the papers with your pen. “Perry wants us on this one. They want to control Superman, make him accountable to the government instead of him just… doing whatever he thinks is right.”

Clark’s eyes flicked over the pages, lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s… complicated,” he murmured, voice low. “It’s not just about control. It’s about trust. And freedom. If Superman is tied down by bureaucracy, what happens when there’s a threat the government doesn’t recognize? Or worse, a government that abuses that control?”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Exactly. And the public’s divided, too. Some think he’s a hero who can do no wrong; others see him as a threat. We have to find the middle ground, the real story beneath the headlines.”

Clark shifted on his feet, glancing up at you. “We’ll need to talk to experts, politicians, maybe some of those protesters. And maybe, if we’re lucky, someone close to Superman.”

You caught the flicker of something in his eyes—you weren’t really sure of what, nor where you able to pinpoint it, something he wasn’t saying out loud. But you didn’t press. Instead, you smiled. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Both of you settled back into your respective desks, the din of the bustling newsroom slowly fading as reporters finished their stories and started filing out for the day. The clatter of keyboards and ringing phones gave way to a quiet stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of papers or the hum of the overhead lights. One by one, desks were abandoned until only yours and Clark’s remained illuminated, the soft glow of your lamps casting long shadows across stacks of notes and crumpled drafts.

The hours slipped by unnoticed as you each dug deeper into your leads, following threads through interviews, anonymous tips, and public records. You scoured news archives for any sign of organized opposition, while Clark cross-referenced political statements and campaign funding reports. The story was more tangled than you expected—nothing straightforward or easily pinned down.

Just as the clock hands crept toward midnight, Clark’s voice broke the silence, tentative but urgent. “Hey… come look at this.”

You pushed back from your desk and made your way over to his, where his screen displayed a series of financial reports and internal documents that looked like they’d been buried intentionally. “LexCorp,” Clark said softly, eyes flickering between the screen and you, “is behind the campaign to control Superman. They’re funneling money and influence to politicians and media outlets pushing this agenda.”

Your breath caught. It was the kind of lead that could shake the city—and maybe the world—but Clark’s next words tempered the shock. “Still, the numbers show that only a very small percentage of the population supports this. The majority of the country—people who see Superman as a symbol, a beacon of hope—stand firmly against it.”

You nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and unease. “That makes sense. People want to believe in him, in what he stands for. But it’s worrying. A campaign like this—rooted in fear and control—can still breed hatred and division.”

Clark’s gaze met yours, the weight of it hanging between you. “We need to show the truth, not just the noise.”

Without a word, you gathered your papers and notes into a somewhat organized pile, lifted your chair, and walked it over to Clark’s desk, dragging it just close enough so your knees brushed the edge of his. He blinked up at you, surprised but not displeased, and you could almost hear the subtle stutter in his thoughts as he adjusted his glasses quickly—a nervous habit you’d come to recognize.

The second you sat down beside him, Clark shifted in his seat like someone caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing, though all he’d done was sit perfectly still. His hands hovered above the desk uncertainly, fingers curling slightly, as if unsure where to place them. He clearly didn’t want to invade your space, even though it was you who had crossed into his.

“I figured we’d work faster if we pieced this together here,” you said, sorting through your notes as you leaned in to glance at his screen again. “Also, my desk lamp is starting to flicker, and I value my eyesight.”

Clark let out a quiet breath—almost a laugh—but his smile was soft, a little shy. “Yeah, sure. Of course. Makes sense.”

Still, he sat stiffly for a moment, as though his very presence beside you might be too much. His shoulders were drawn slightly inward, and he was clearly trying to take up as little space as humanly possible. You, on the other hand, had spread your pages across the edge of his desk without hesitation, your elbow brushing his now and then as you gestured toward the evidence.

His knee accidentally bumped yours under the desk, and he jerked back like he’d been shocked, muttering a soft, “Sorry—wasn’t trying to—”

You just smiled and shook your head. “Relax, Kent. I’m not going to bite.”

That earned you another small laugh—quieter this time, but more genuine. He seemed to settle slightly after that, his posture loosening bit by bit as the conversation drew back to the story at hand. You discussed the implications of LexCorp’s involvement, the ethical concerns around power and influence, and the danger of letting fear shape public perception.

You worked in silence for a while after that, the occasional exchange of thoughts passing between you and Clark like smooth ripples across still water. Pages shifted, keys clicked softly, and the atmosphere between you warmed—not from proximity alone, but from a shared sense of purpose. The weight of the story wasn’t just journalistic anymore. It felt personal. Important.

Eventually, you leaned back in your chair, rubbing at your tired eyes and speaking aloud what had been forming quietly in your mind. “I think the best move is to break this in two parts. First, a direct response to the growing fear—the rhetoric trying to paint Superman as a threat. We need something that calms the public down, brings back some clarity.” You glanced at Clark, who looked up at you, attentive. “A brief interview with Superman. Something measured. Controlled. Honest. People still trust him—most of them, anyway. If we lead with him, everything else that follows will hit harder.”

Clark nodded slowly, but you could see the flicker in his eyes—the guarded tension that always came with the mention of Superman. He adjusted his glasses, more composed this time. “And after that?”

You turned your chair slightly to face him fully, the pages spread between you like a puzzle finally coming together. “Then we go after LexCorp. Publicly. Thoroughly. We use the second piece to expose how this entire campaign—this whole attempt to regulate Superman like a weapon—is being run by a company with a known history of corruption.”

You tapped your pen against the notes, where you’d highlighted several lawsuits and whistleblower reports. “LexCorp has a decades-long track record of endangering the environment through illegal waste dumping, of committing large-scale corporate fraud, of lobbying its way out of accountability. And now, they want to play puppet master with the one person on this planet powerful enough to stop them from getting worse. They’re selling the idea that regulation means safety, but what they’re really selling is control. Control of him.”

Clark didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the papers for a long moment, his jaw tight, expression unreadable. You let the silence stretch, giving him space to process. Finally, he spoke, voice quiet but firm.

“Superman was never meant to be a weapon,” he said. “That’s not who he is. He’s supposed to be a symbol of peace. If he starts answering to governments—especially ones with corporate strings attached—he stops being that. He becomes something else. Something… dangerous.”

You nodded, grateful that he’d said it out loud. “Exactly. And that’s what we have to make clear to people. This isn’t just about Superman—it’s about what happens when fear is exploited by people who want power.”

The conversation drifted into silence after that—comfortable, if a little heavy. The two of you sat quietly, side by side, eyes scanning the notes and articles sprawled across Clark’s desk like pieces of a conspiracy no one else had dared to connect. Outside the windows, the city hummed in a low, sleepy rhythm; only the soft tapping of the building’s old radiator and the muted street sounds below remained.

You leaned back in your chair, gaze softening as you looked over the scattered sheets between you. It felt like a moment suspended in time—two overworked journalists sitting in a room half-lit by stubborn desk lamps and mutual exhaustion. And something about that stillness made you brave.

“I think,” you began slowly, “we’ve earned at least one conversation tonight that doesn’t revolve around corruption, lawsuits, or Lex Luthor.”

Clark blinked, eyes drifting away from the papers to glance at you, a little startled. He looked so genuinely caught off guard that for a second you thought he might ask who you were talking to.

But after a pause—and a small, sheepish laugh—he adjusted his glasses and nodded. “Right. Yeah. Of course. I just—wasn’t expecting…”

“A human moment? Wow, you really think so little of me?” you offered, half-smiling.

He returned it faintly. “Something like that.”

You shifted slightly in your seat, turning more toward him, your voice easy. “So. What do you do, Clark Kent, when you’re not hunched over this desk pondering your next angle? What exists outside the bylines and bad coffee?”

He looked at you for a long moment, clearly searching for an answer—or maybe just still recovering from the shift in tone. “Well,” he started slowly, “I guess I’m… kind of boring.”

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“I mean it,” he added a little nervous now, like he was trying to prove something to you. “I read a lot. I walk a lot. I like old radio broadcasts—sometimes I help my mom with stuff around the farm when I have time to get back to Kansas. I, uh… I don’t really have hobbies that impress people at parties.” He trailed off and his brows furrowed for a second as if he himself didn’t believe a word he said.

You laughed softly, leaning your elbow on the desk. “Not everything’s about being impressive.”

He looked at you again, glad you had changed the subject, more fully this time. “What about you?”

You tilted your head. “Are we flipping the question back on me already?”

Clark gave a little grin, almost teasing, but there was warmth in his voice when he said, “Well… you started it.”

You leaned back in your chair, stretching slightly, your body cracking in protest after sitting for so long. “Well,” you said, considering his question, “outside of investigating shady billionaires and defending Superman’s honor in print... I like sleeping. A lot. When I can get it. And late-night takeout. And really bad movies.”

Clark’s brows lifted, intrigued. “Bad movies?”

You nodded with a mock-serious expression. “Oh, I’m talking truly bad. I’m talking alien-invasion-budget-of-twenty-dollars bad. Practical effects made of paper plates bad.”

He chuckled, the sound low and surprised. “So, you’re saying if I brought over, say, ‘Attack of the Radioactive Squirrel People,’ you wouldn’t turn me away?”

You narrowed your eyes, playing along. “Only if you bring snacks and don’t ask logical questions during the film. Logic ruins the experience.”

Clark feigned deep thought. “Would I not be able to ask why the squirrels are radioactive?”

You gasped dramatically. “Absolutely not. That’s part of the mystery.”

He laughed again, fuller this time, shoulders relaxing as he leaned a little closer. “You know, I never would’ve pegged you for a bad sci-fi lover.”

“And I never would’ve pegged you for someone who listens to old radio shows,” you shot back with a grin. “You hide it well. You’ve got the whole ‘mild-mannered’ thing down to an art.”

Clark made a face. “It’s not an act, you know.”

You hummed, skeptical. “Mmhm. Sure. You just happen to be the only person in the office who never yells, never swears, and always holds the elevator even if it means missing it entirely.”

“That’s just manners,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed now. “I wasn’t raised in a barn.”

You tilted your head at him. “Weren’t you, though?”

He paused—then gave you a half-smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Okay, maybe a little.”

You both laughed, the tension from earlier fading further with each second. The newsroom was almost completely dark now, lit only by your two lamps and the glow of the city outside. The silence between you felt different this time—not weighted by stress or urgency, but warm, companionable.

“I’m just saying,” you added casually, “if we end up working together more often, you might need to brush up on your bad movie tolerance.”

Clark raised a brow, teasing right back now. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

You smirked. “Depends. How do you feel about sequels that make the original look like a masterpiece?”

He mock-shuddered. “Terrified. But intrigued.”

You leaned back again, your eyes catching on the scattered papers across the desk, but your focus had long drifted from newsprint and ink. Clark was still sitting beside you, uncharacteristically relaxed—well, sort of. His shoulders were tense, and he was very obviously trying not to look at you too directly, which only made your curiosity grow stronger.

“You know,” you said, keeping your tone light, your voice laced with just enough teasing to make him look up, “you never answered the question.”

Clark blinked. “What question?”

You rested your elbow on the arm of the chair, chin in your hand. “What you do outside of work. Like—really outside. People. Dating. A girlfriend, maybe?”

His reaction was immediate, if subtle—his hand, which had been draped stiffly on the arm of his chair, flexed so hard his knuckles whitened, and the veins along the back of his hand stood out like cords. His glasses slipped a little down the bridge of his nose from the sudden shift in posture, and he pushed them back up with a quick, nervous tap of his finger.

“What?” he said, far too quickly.

You bit back a smile, watching him carefully now—not just his face, but his whole frame. The way his body filled the chair, broad shoulders and long limbs all seemingly trying to shrink and fold in a little. Like he was trying to make himself smaller in a space he very clearly couldn’t.

Your knee was pressed up against his—had it always been that close? You weren’t sure. But now that you’d noticed, it was impossible not to notice. Especially when his didn’t move. Didn’t twitch or pull away. Just... stayed there, warm and solid against yours.

You tilted your head again, letting your voice drop just a little lower. “It’s a pretty straightforward question, Kent.”

He cleared his throat. “I—uh—I don’t. I mean. No.”

You turned slightly toward him, lips curving into a slow grin. “No girlfriend? That’s surprising.”

“What—Why��s that surprising?” he asked, clearly trying to sound casual, but his voice had gone scratchy, like his throat had decided to betray him.

You let your eyes trail down, briefly, taking in the way his forearms were tensed now too, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing more of those oddly strong hands. The tendons moved with every subtle grip and shift along the chair’s arms, like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. His fingers had curled so tightly over the edge now that you were sure he’d leave dents in the wood.

You shrugged, still watching him from the corner of your eye. “I don’t know. You’re kind of charming in that nervous, buttoned-up sort of way. Some people are into that.”

Clark’s brows drew together slightly, his lips parting like he was going to respond—but no sound came out. Just a breath. Just a little, flustered exhale like he couldn’t believe you’d said that out loud, like his brain had stopped functioning at the suggestion that someone might be into him.

His glasses slid further down his nose, and in his fumbling attempt to fix them, he knocked them a little sideways. His hands were big—awkwardly precise—and the way he pushed them back up just made it worse. He cleared his throat again, too quickly this time.

“Well, I—uh, I think that’s… that’s nice of you to say,” he finally managed, voice half-pitched and apologetic, like you were the one who had just walked in on him in a compromising position.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. Not cruelly, not loudly. Just a soft, delighted kind of laugh that bubbled up from your chest because God, this man was endearing. Six and a half feet of solid muscle and broad shoulders, and yet here he was—blushing like a schoolboy because you’d complimented him. Barely. Lightly.

Clark looked down, probably trying to hide the growing flush on his neck, which had started to crawl past the collar of his shirt. “I’m not… I mean, it’s not like people are lining up.”

“Oh, come on, Kent,” you said, voice teasing now, elbow brushing his lightly. “Don’t play modest. I’ve seen the way some of the women in this office look at you. Even the new girl from research couldn’t remember her own name when you brought her coffee last week.”

“That was just because I brought the wrong order,” he mumbled quickly.

“Uh-huh. Sure it was,” you said, grinning. “And when she said she’d ‘never tasted anything sweeter’? Totally about the coffee.”

Clark groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as if he could physically rub the embarrassment away.

He finally looked at you again—really looked—and the corner of his mouth twitched upward in spite of himself. His eyes were warm behind the lenses, full of something quiet and boyish and undeniably fond.

“You’re kind of mean,” he said, but there was no heat to it.

“And you’re kind of fun to fluster,” you replied, nudging his knee with yours again—deliberate this time.

He froze for a heartbeat. Just one.

Then he smiled, soft and crooked.

“I’m starting to think you like making me nervous.”

You tilted your head again, letting the silence stretch for a second too long. Then, with a little shrug, you whispered, “Maybe I do.”

Clark swallowed hard, then, with a kind of bravery you hadn’t expected, he let one hand slide gently to rest on the armrest closer to you—as if testing the boundaries, trying to be near without crossing a line he wasn’t ready for.

Your pulse sped up. You wanted to reach out, to close the gap, but something held you back—a delicate balance of respect and something else, something tender and new.

Before either of you could say anything else, the distant sound of footsteps echoed through the quiet newsroom. The moment shattered like glass.

Clark’s hand jerked back quickly, and he adjusted his glasses with a nervous chuckle. “Looks like we’re not as alone as we thought.”

You laughed softly, the tension easing just a bit. “Guess the newsroom’s ghosts don’t like to miss out.”

He smiled, eyes still warm as he packed away some of the papers between you.

“Tomorrow,” you said quietly, “we’ll finish this. And maybe… talk about other things, too.”

He continued right after that, standing up and stretching. “I’d like that. Maybe you can come over tomorrow to write the piece after work. If you want of course— Unless you have something else to do? ”

"Yes, Clark, I'd like that. I'll give you a call." You sent him a smile, trying to prove to him he had nothing to be nervous about anymore. But something told you that this act wouldn't be easy to drop. The poor guy was a lost cause.

As you gathered your things and headed for the door, you glanced back once more. Clark Kent—the man who was a mystery and a friend, awkward and brave all at once—gave you a small, hopeful smile.

The next day flew by in a whirlwind of stories, calls, and chasing down leads. The newsroom buzzed as usual, but beneath the noise, your thoughts kept drifting back to last night—the quiet moment with Clark, the way his nervous smile had stayed with you.

As the afternoon wore on and people began packing up, you were sorting through your notes when your phone buzzed softly. You glanced down and saw a message from Clark. You looked up and, almost without thinking, spotted him sitting across the room, his glasses slightly crooked as he fiddled nervously with a pen.

The message read: “If you’re still up for it, my place. 7 PM?”

You smiled to yourself and quickly typed back, your fingers flying over the screen: “You know you can talk to me like a normal person, right?”

Almost immediately, he glanced your way, cheeks flushing just a bit, before he sent a quick thumbs-up from across the room.

A little while later, as the last of the reporters packed up and the newsroom began to empty, Clark appeared at your desk with a hesitant smile, glasses slightly askew as usual. He glanced down at his phone, then back up at you.

“Ready to head out?” he asked, voice soft but steady. “It’s not far from here. We can walk—it’s a nice evening.”

You nodded, gathering your bag and slipping on your jacket. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Together, you stepped out into the warm glow of the evening, the city buzzing softly around you. The streets weren’t crowded, just a few pedestrians and the occasional hum of distant traffic. Side by side, you walked—easy, natural—sharing bits of small talk that felt surprisingly comfortable.

Clark occasionally stole glances at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips when he thought you weren’t looking. You noticed how the city lights caught the flecks of blue in his eyes, making him look a little less like the nervous, awkward guy at the office and more like someone who belonged here—right here beside you.

You found yourself smiling more than you realized, drawn in by his quiet earnestness, the way his eyes lit up when he described simple pleasures. It was a side of Clark Kent few got to see—behind the glasses, behind the awkwardness—a man who cherished the ordinary moments.

At one point, your knees brushed again, and this time neither of you moved away. Instead, Clark’s smile deepened just a little, shy but genuine.

As the outline of his apartment building came into view, nestled between a bookstore and a cozy café, the streetlamps cast a warm halo over the doorway. Clark pulled out his keys, fumbling slightly, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his endearing clumsiness.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said with a grin after taking the elevator and settling before his door, pushing the door open and holding it for you.

Inside, the space was simple and inviting, with shelves lined with books, a few framed photos, and a soft couch that looked perfect for late-night talks or movie marathons.

You both dove into the writing like something had possessed you—pure adrenaline and sharp focus, the kind that only came when the stakes were real and the story mattered. The laptop passed feverishly from one lap to the other, sometimes mid-sentence, sometimes with a flurry of half-laughed instructions and half-bitten curses about formatting or sourcing. You’d never worked this quickly on any project, not even under deadline. But this—this felt different. Urgent. Important.

Clark had thrown off his suit jacket the second you'd settled into his apartment, letting it drape carelessly over the back of the sofa. His tie was askew now, loosened at the neck and clinging faintly to one side like it had given up trying to be proper. His white shirt was rumpled with the kind of lived-in texture that came from the day dragging on and on—and you couldn’t help noticing how the fabric clung in places. His shoulders looked even broader without the layers hiding them, and when he rolled up his sleeves again, the definition in his forearms was downright distracting.

Every now and then one of you would catch a typo or notice something off in the phrasing, and you’d lean in to fix it together. Once, you’d missed a whole line—your fingers hesitating over the keys—and without saying a word, Clark had reached over. His hand engulfed yours easily, warm and solid, his fingers dwarfing yours as he corrected the sentence himself. He didn’t move your hand—he just covered it, guiding it with a quiet, gentle pressure, his touch firm but careful.

You were sitting side by side on the couch, your thighs touching, pressed flush together. It wasn’t a small couch, not by any stretch—but Clark somehow still managed to take up half of it. More than half, if you were being honest. His long legs sprawled slightly, the muscle clearly visible beneath the fabric of his pants, shifting every time he adjusted. You could feel the strength in him, just sitting there, all that quiet power contained and careful and... close. His thigh next to yours was solid heat, twice the size of yours, pressed from knee to hip.

His fingers lay sprawled casually across his own thigh, thick and unhurried, veins prominent against the backs of his hands. You watched them for a second too long, eyes tracing the way they twitched occasionally with thought—how one hand flexed when he leaned forward, the fabric of his shirt stretching over his back, drawing your attention to places you probably shouldn’t be looking.

After a while—maybe the fourth round of proofreading between the two of you—you sat back with a satisfied hum, eyes scanning the final draft on the screen one last time. It was perfect. Crisp, clear, bold. Every line landed. Every quote hit. The tone, the flow, the weight of it—dead-on.

Clark was rereading a paragraph you’d rewritten when you looked at him and grinned. “I think we did it.”

He glanced at you, then back at the screen. “We really did.”

Without even thinking, you held up your hand. “Fist bump.”

He blinked at it like it was a foreign concept, then chuckled and tapped his knuckles lightly against yours. There was something deeply satisfying about it. Not just finishing the piece, but finishing it together. You slumped back into the couch with a dramatic sigh, and Clark followed suit, both of you sinking into the cushions like deflating balloons.

It wasn’t even that late—maybe just past ten. The soft hum of the city drifted in through his windows, and for once, there wasn’t anything left to worry about. The story was done. All that remained was… whatever this was.

And well, you couldn’t let a moment like this go to waste.

You turned your head toward him, voice light. “So… as I was saying yesterday—no girlfriend?”

Clark let out a quiet groan, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really don’t let things go, do you?”

“Absolutely not,” you said sweetly. “Especially when I see an opportunity to make a certain someone all red in the face again.”

“I wasn’t red,” he mumbled.

You tilted your head, grinning. “You so were. Somewhere between strawberry and a ripe tomato.”

He let out a quiet huff of a laugh, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “It’s not a crime to be single, you know.”

“No, of course not. But it is curious. Clark Kent, charming, gentle, built like he could bench press a building—and not a single soul to call his own?” You gave a dramatic sigh, leaning back further into the cushions and tilting your head toward him. “It’s practically a scandal.”

His hand came up to cover his face for a second, and you heard him mumble behind his palm, “You’re relentless.”

You nudged your knee against his. “I just think the people deserve to know. The truth is out there.”

He peeked at you through his fingers. “You’re making this weird.”

“I’m making it fun,” you corrected. “And I haven’t even started with the follow-up questions.”

Clark gave you a look like he was trying very hard not to smile, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching—and more importantly, the way his shoulders had hunched up slightly, like he was trying to disappear into the couch. As if that was even remotely possible with how big he was.

“I mean, it’s not like I haven’t—uh—dated before,” he stammered, eyes suddenly fixed very intently on the ceiling. “I’ve just been… focused. On work. And other things.”

“Oh? Other things?” you echoed, eyes gleaming. You leaned a little closer, chin propped on your hand like you were very seriously conducting an interview. “Mysterious. Do these things wear lipstick and heels or—”

“No—God—no! Not like that, I mean—” He fumbled, his voice jumping an octave, ears turning red now. “I meant like… just life things. Family. Writing. Coffee. The weather. Taxes. Normal things.”

You stared at him, deadpan. “Taxes.”

He exhaled, dragging a hand down his face with a low groan. “Can we pretend I said literally anything else?”

“Nope,” you said cheerfully. “Clark Kent: tax enthusiast. Definitely the sexiest answer I’ve ever heard.”

“I don’t know how to talk to you,” he muttered under his breath, shifting slightly like he wanted to vanish into a fold of the cushion. His shoulders were so wide that when he tried to hunch them, it only made them more obvious—like a mountain trying to duck under a table. His thigh was still pressed to yours, firm and warm, and when he moved slightly, your whole leg moved with him. The man was gravitational.

You tilted your head slowly, letting the silence stretch between you, a teasing glint sparking in your eyes. “You don’t?” you repeated, voice low and rich with mock innocence. “Do I make you nervous, Kent?”

It hit him like a sucker punch. Clark’s mouth parted as if to reply, then faltered. Closed. Opened again. Whatever he wanted to say, his brain wasn’t cooperating. His gaze darted to your face, lingered on your mouth just a second too long, then snapped upward toward the ceiling—like maybe salvation was written somewhere in the paint.

“Nervous isn’t… the word I’d use,” he finally muttered, voice deeper now, rough at the edges. “More like… wound up.”

You blinked.

The shift in the air was immediate—like someone had struck a match and held it between you. The words settled in, thick and full of implication, and you didn’t miss the way Clark immediately stiffened once he heard himself. His body locked up, like the realization hit him two seconds too late.

Your eyes met, and you watched it register behind his glasses—the double meaning, the subtext, the blush already blooming beneath his collar. His pupils dilated just slightly, and for a moment, he genuinely looked like he wanted to rewind time.

You smiled. No, you grinned. Slow and amused, dangerous in the way only a woman who knew exactly the effect she had could be.

“Wound up, huh?”

His ears turned bright red. You didn’t think you’d ever seen that happen to an actual adult man before. It was adorable.

“That’s… that’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, the words tumbling over each other. He sat up so fast the cushions shifted, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose. “I meant like—tense. Stressed. Not like that. That's— you're so dirty-minded.”

“Oh, no no no,” you said, turning toward him fully now, the couch creaking just slightly beneath your combined weight. You lifted a brow, voice thick with faux concern. “You already said it. Wound up. It’s okay, you don’t have to backtrack. It’s really bad for the human body to stay that way, y’know?”

He coughed—hard—into his fist, as if his lungs were trying to eject him from the situation entirely.

You inched in a little closer, chin resting in your hand like you were very seriously interviewing him. “When’s the last time you let off a little steam, anyway? That kind of tension? It’s terrible for your health. Builds up. Makes you twitchy. You could explode, in more ways than one.” You joked, clearly enjoying how flustered you were making him

His mouth opened, then immediately snapped shut. Again. His whole frame looked like it was short-circuiting—eyes wide, neck stiff, hands suddenly very still on his lap like he didn’t trust them to move. The tips of his ears were crimson now, and his knee gave a visible twitch where it touched yours.

“I… I don’t know,” he said finally, voice hoarse and absolutely not helping himself. “It’s… it’s been a while.”

You leaned in just a bit more, your voice dripping with playful condescension as you arched an eyebrow. “No one at work, then? No girls sneaking around, taking care of you? Or outside work? Surely someone’s keeping you from turning into a walking ball of tension.”

Clark’s face flushed deeper—if that was even possible—and he shifted awkwardly, trying to make himself smaller in the already cramped space. His broad shoulders hunkered down like he wished he could disappear entirely into the couch cushions. His fingers gripped the edge of the sofa tightly, veins standing out from the strain. His leg twitched where it pressed against yours, betraying how flustered he truly was.

“I—I don’t think that’s really... how it works,” he stammered, eyes flicking away, unable to hold your teasing gaze. His voice cracked just slightly as he added, “I’m not really—uh—good at that sort of thing.”

You softened your tone just a little, letting the teasing linger but adding a hint of genuine curiosity. “Alright,” you said, your eyes locking with his, “setting aside how things are—which, let’s be honest, isn’t exactly thrilling—would you want that? For someone to take care of you? To take real good care of you, Clark?”

His breath hitched, and you caught the sudden catch in his throat. His body tensed for a split second, fingers tightening a bit more on the sofa’s edge. He swallowed hard, eyes darting away for a moment before he met your gaze again—this time softer, more honest.

He hesitated for a moment, then finally looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… I think I’d like that. Someone to—take care of me. To make me feel… wanted. To help me relax. I don’t really know how to ask for it, but… I want it.”

His fingers twitched nervously on the edge of the sofa, and he shifted slightly, as if trying to make himself smaller—almost like he was half-expecting you to laugh it off. Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on yours, vulnerable and honest in a way that caught you completely off guard.

“I just… I don’t know how to say it out loud. But I want to be held. To be touched… And—Um, well, yeah.” His voice faltered, thick with something unspoken, as he glanced up briefly, cheeks flushed and breath shallow.

You looked at him softly, your voice gentle but steady. “Would you let me help you with that, Clark? To… take care of you the way you need?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked almost speechless—like he hadn’t expected you to ask.

“I… I—” he stammered, words catching in his throat. “Y-yes. Please.”

As he spoke, his voice low and whispery, you couldn't help but notice a sudden shift in Clark. His broad frame tensed subtly, shoulders stiffening like a wire pulled taut. Your eyes flicked downward, and there it was—an undeniable bulge pressing insistently against the fabric of his pants. It hadn’t been there earlier, not when you first began talking, but now it had made its unmistakable presence known.

The sight hit you with a raw intensity. Was he really this pent up? This desperate, maybe? The way his hands clenched and unclenched on the edge of the couch, the quick, shallow breaths rattling in his chest—it all spoke volumes. His steady composure shattered, replaced by a vulnerability so fierce it almost scorched the air between you.

Clark shifted awkwardly, trying to adjust himself, covering the imprint of his twitching cock, like it would somehow disappear or at least be less obvious. One of his hands wrapped a hand around it, looking to shield himself from your view, trying to not seem like some pervy teenager. His thigh pressed a little harder against yours in the movement, muscles flexing under his pants, taut and commanding. Every subtle twitch, every tiny flex of those long fingers gripping the sofa’s edge, betrayed the storm raging just beneath the surface.

Your gaze flicked to his clenched hand resting just above the unmistakable tent, and without hesitation, you reached out gently, sliding your fingers around his wrist. His breath hitched, and his eyes widened as you slowly pulled his hand away, freeing the evidence of his need from its grip.

“You’re trying to hide this from me now, huh?” you tease, your eyes flickering between the bulge straining against his pants and the glaze settling over his eyes. “Can’t have that.”

Clark’s breath catches, and he swallows hard before meeting your gaze with a shaky, “Um, No, I’m not.”

As you take his hand from his lap, you finally place a hand over his cock. He was radiating heat, and from what you could feel as you rubbed your hand gently up and down the length of him, he was huge and ridiculously girthy.

Clark’s breath hitched sharply, a soft, barely-there noise escaping his lips—half gasp, half moan. His face flushed crimson, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before snapping open, wide and vulnerable. His jaw clenched tightly, as if trying to hold back whatever words or sounds threatened to spill free.

Clark’s breath hitched again, his eyes darting nervously as your hand traced slow, deliberate circles. His voice was shaky, barely above a whisper, thick with a mix of disbelief and desire. “You’re… you’re really mean, you know that? You can’t just—do this to me,” he murmured, cheeks flushed deeper, words stumbling over each other as he struggled to keep control. “It’s… unfair.”

"Can't I? You want me to stop touching you? Because I can do that." You began, looking right into his eyes. Most of the time, the poor thing couldn't keep eye contact; his eyes flickered from your eyes to your hand, or to the ceiling. As you stared him down, the motion of your hand limited itself to his tip, feeling around the wet spot he had begun to make on his pants.

His breath hitched, voice shaky but earnest. “No! please don’t stop… I want this.”

A shaky sigh escaped him as his body tensed under your touch, every muscle stretched tight with anticipation and need. Despite the vulnerability in his eyes, there was something fierce simmering just beneath the surface—an unspoken surrender that made the air between you crackle with electricity.

Your hands stopped stroking him for a second, your fingers wandering around the strap of his belt, shuffling under the fabric of his dress shirt. "Then what do you want? I can't just do whatever I want with you, can I?" You raised a brow teasingly, pushing for an answer.

Clark’s voice trembled as he finally found the courage to speak more directly, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. One of his hands found the back of your head and cradled it, brushing soft circles against your scalp. “Um— well, you can… You can use me. You can use your hands on me too, if you want,” he murmured, his cheeks flushing deeper as the words slipped out, raw and unguarded.

You smirked, leaning in with a playful glint in your eyes. “That’s very unspecific, Kent. What exactly would that imply?”

Clark’s cheeks flared bright red, his breath catching as he swallowed nervously. “Don’t—come on, you’re really gonna make me ask for it, just like that?”

You chuckled softly, voice low and teasing. “Yup. Tell me what you want, big boy.” One of your fingers curled just below the hem of his pants, making him suddenly shiver from the unexpected contact. His abs and the muscles on his torso jerking suddenly.

The hand resting lightly on your head suddenly stilled. Clark shut his eyes briefly, as if gathering every ounce of courage to say what he felt but barely dared to voice. When he finally tilted his head toward you, his brows knit together and his eyes glistened with a vulnerability that made your heart ache. He looked so raw—so close to breaking—and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him.

“Please, baby, jus’ touch me,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Can you—God.” He cut himself off abruptly, blinking up at you, clearly torn between shame and need, unsure if he could even say the words that were burning behind his lips. Yet, there you lay, watching him, waiting.

He swallowed hard, voice rough and desperate now. “Jesus… you’re really driving me backwards. Look at what you’ve got me saying…” His breath hitched. “Can you please jerk me off, baby? Put me to good use. Do something. Whatever…”

Your fingers fumbled almost instinctively at the buckle of his belt, heart hammering as you slid his pants down his thighs just below his knees, leaving him in his boxer briefs, feeling the tension release with the sound of the clasp. Calvin Klein— you weren't even surprised, he even looked like the models in the magazines. Without hesitation, you moved over him, settling on his lap, heat radiating from your bodies as you leaned in to capture his mouth with a hungry kiss.

His breath hitched when your legs came into contact with the flesh of his thighs, hands gripping your waist as the space between you vanished.

There was no gentleness here—only the raw need that had been building between you, unleashed in a rush of heat and urgency. His mouth opened beneath yours, inviting, desperate, and you wasted no time slipping your tongue inside to explore, tasting the sweetness of his tounge and the tremble of his lips.

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, making you drag the heat of your clothed cunt against his leaking cock as if trying to make up for lost time. Your fingers pressed firmly against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath the fabric. You began humping him, and so did he. He whimpered into your mouth every time his tip caught the seam of your jeans, serving him as some sort of satisfaction. His hips rolled hungrily against yours as he kept shamelessly moaning into your mouth, sounding like a desperate man, each whimper more needy. The kiss was possessive and wild, a fierce claiming that left no room for doubt about the fire burning between you.

You broke the kiss suddenly, something which thankfully lent you the view of his soft, plump lips now swollen and red, his cheeks and ears rosy as ever, and his glasses, as always, lying askew on his nose. You latched onto his neck, and he let out a high-pitched noise. He's so cute. As your tongue lapped against the skin of his neck, your hands wandered down to the hem of his boxers and slowly snaked themselves under them. As your hands wandered further, you could feel how soft the skin of his abdomen was, and later, just below, you could also feel he was trimmed, and then, just further down—

Jesus. Christ.

He was fucking huge. Your hand wrapping around the base of his cock basically counted as a miracle; you almost couldn't clasp your hand into a fist around it. He was long, too, your hand wrapped tight around him, and you stroked him once, earning a shiver from him. Even without looking at it, you could feel the ridges of the veins running along the side of his cock as you stroked him. God bless this man, truly.

"Mhmph." He flinched as he clearly had tried to say something, but that was the only thing that came out of his mouth. A pathetic sigh.

Just as your lips left a blooming mark on the side of Clark’s neck—deep, flushed, and unmistakably yours—a flicker of something wicked sparked to life in your mind. You let your tongue trace the edges of the bruise for one last second before your hand, which had been steadily working his cock beneath the waistband of his boxers, suddenly stilled.

He gasped, a breathless whimper catching in his throat at the loss of contact. You slowly withdrew your hand, dragging it out deliberately, your fingers slick with proof of just how far gone he was. He let out a soft, pitiful noise, equal parts frustration and pleading, as if you’d stolen the only thing keeping him grounded.

You leaned back just enough to meet his eyes—wide, glassy, stunned—your own gaze dark and commanding. Then, you lifted your hand, palm up, just beneath his face.

“Spit on my hand, Clark,” you said, low and deliberate, your tone a perfect blend of authority and challenge.

His breath hitched. He blinked once, twice, as if trying to determine whether he’d heard you right. His lips parted, trembling slightly.

“I—wha…?” he stammered, voice thready and wrecked. “You want me to…”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” you murmured, voice like velvet and sin.

His Adam’s apple bobbed hard as he swallowed. You could see the war in his head—modesty clashing with the overwhelming desire to please you. Finally, he nodded, barely perceptible, and whispered:

“O-okay.”

Clark’s breath hitched audibly, chest rising with a sharp inhale as you pulled your hand back and held it in front of him. His eyes—already wide and glassy—darted to your fingers, then up to your face. You could see the war inside him, flickering right behind his glasses. Some part of him still wanted to be composed, respectable. The other part, the one unraveling at your words and touch, was clawing its way to the surface.

His jaw tensed like he might say something—but then he didn’t. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, lips parting just a bit. His breath brushed against your palm. And then—

Spit.

It was small, and hesitant as he let it drip from his mouth to the palm of your hand, but it was there. His cheeks flushed instantly deeper, as if even the action startled him. He didn’t look away, though. No—his gaze held yours, almost defiantly now. There was shame in his expression, yes, but also something else. Want. Trust. Hunger.

You let a smirk tug at your lips. “Good boy,” you murmured, low and warm like velvet. The way he shuddered at just that made your pulse kick up. His fingers were still clenching the fabric of your pants, like he was holding himself back from... something.

With your other hand, you reached down and tugged at the waistband of his boxers, fingers fumbling slightly against the elastic. Finally, you hooked them properly, intent clear in your movements. Clark let out a shaky breath, lifting his hips in a silent invitation, and his own hands moved to help, pushing the fabric down with an urgency that betrayed just how far gone he already was. For a second, the waistband caught his shaft, making it even harder to pull down.

What a sight.

This was probably the first time you'd ever seen a man having a hard time taking off his boxers from how utterly huge he was.

Finally, in an act of desperation, he yanked them down, freeing his cock from under the fabric. It sprang out, slow and steady, oscillating back and forth from the front of your jeans to his belly button. Jesus. His tip was a deep shade of red, leaking with eager drops of precum, coasting hungry down the very slit. He was thick, like oddly girthy. His shaft was very faintly a darker shade of skin than the rest of his body, something tending towards pink or light mauve. Veins, humming with desire, painted the sides of his shaft, making it all the more intimidating. Clearly, you had been staring for too long because his breath hitched, and his whole cock twitched before you, swaying towards him. His eyes darted away for a moment, glancing anywhere but at you—as if the weight of your gaze made him suddenly self-conscious.

He shifted slightly, the vulnerability of the moment pressing on him, and yet there was an undeniable softness in the way he looked back, hesitating but trusting. “You’re… really looking at me, aren't you?” he joked quietly, letting out a soft nervous laugh.

You became aware of the look on your face, and your eyes darted towards him. "Yeah, well, I don't know if you're aware of how big you are, Clark." You let out a breath as your hand, still slick from his spit, slid down to stroke him once and for all. Your hand glided down effortlessly, making wet and sloppy noises under you.

Clark blinked, clearly caught off guard by your words. His cheeks flushed deeper, and he shifted uneasily, sucking in a breath and puffing his chest the second your hands started working on him. “I—uh, dont give it much thought…” he murmured, voice soft and a bit breathless. “You really think so? It’s not like I’ve been hiding it on purpose.”

That made you scoff, but your hand kept working at the same pace. You wanted to put your mouth on him so bad, but considering how he was reacting now, he'd probably implode from just having your tounge on him. But then again, wasn't that the whole point? So then you decided to do so. You got off his lap, hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, working him oh so sweetly, and as soon as your knees found the carpet, you brought your tounge to his tip, swirling the slick around it.

Clark flinched suddenly, muscles tensing like coiled springs beneath his shirt. You had begun to stroke his cock faster, your mouth taking him deeper into your mouth, you kept one hand at his base helping yourself with what you couldn't take fully. The flesh of his thighs tightened and strained, every movement charged with raw energy. His head fell back against the cushion of the couch, eyes closing briefly as a low, guttural sound escaped from deep within him.

Without hesitation, his hand shot up to your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. Despite the strength behind the motion, his touch was soft and soothing, cradling you at the base of your skull and tracing slow, comforting circles along your neck.

You arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as your hand continued its slow, deliberate motion. “That feel good?” you teased, voice dripping with mischief. Your grip tightened just slightly, testing his reaction, fingers sliding with purpose along his shaft.

Clark’s breath hitched again, eyes fluttering open to meet yours—wide, vulnerable, and shimmering with a mix of surprise and something deeper. His voice came out husky, uneven, betraying how much your touch affected him. “Y-yeah… Fuck,” he cursed. He cursed?

That was the first time you had ever heard Clark Kent curse, really curse.

That only ignited you. Your mouth and hands began to work at new speeds. You kept yourself coordinated, sometimes pulling away to spit on the very tip, or to pull away for a second to look at him from under your lashes. The poor man was done for; you could tell he was close by the way he had begun to hold onto the back of your head tighter, pushing you down onto his cock.

Clark’s breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as his eyes darkened with something raw and unguarded. The usual calm that defined him seemed to melt away, replaced by a flicker of desperate yearning that made his entire body tense and shiver.

His gaze locked onto yours, glazed and unfocused for a moment—as if the world had narrowed down to nothing but the heat of your touch and the magnetic pull between you. His lips parted slightly, breath hitching as if he struggled to find the right words, but none came.

Then, something completely and utterly unexpected happened: he spoke—without being coaxed, prompted, or begged. His voice, low and certain, cut through the air like it had always belonged there. He furrowed his brows, lips pulling into the faintest pout as he locked eyes with you, unblinking. And then, like some quiet ritual had reached its climax, he reached up and slid his glasses off, tossing them onto the table behind you with a casual flick of his wrist.

In an instant, he changed. Not in a subtle way—not in a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of way. It was seismic. Gone was the quiet, anxious boy who shrank into himself. He rolled back his shoulders like he’d just remembered he had them. His knees spread wider, his posture now dripping with a kind of authority that hadn’t been there a minute ago. It wasn’t just confidence—it was control. Power. Presence.

He looked like a completely different person—no, he was a different person. And you were choking on that realization as much as you were on him.

What the actual fuck just happened?

"Yeah? Y'taking me so good, you know that? Jesus— your mouth's so warm, baby." Then the hand on your hair pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail. He was close, you could tell. His hips bucked involuntarily, making you take him completely, and for a few seconds, he held you there, nose nestled against the trimmed hairs of his pelvis.

"Taking care of me so nicely. Just like— just like that." He tilted his head to get a good look at you. "Atta girl," that sent shivers down your spine, only fueling you further. Your head bobbed with your newfound speed, only making him groan louder.

He began once again, "I’ve been trying to be good. Trying not to think of you like this— always so nice to me. But you've made it so hard— God." You moaned around him, and that's when you began to feel his cock twitch around your lips, so you sped up. "Hell, you made it so hard. Tried not cummin' in my pants like a teenager every time you walked with one of those tight little pencil skirts."

"Tried not to think of you like this. Never touched myself—God, never, not once. I felt so bad thinking of you this way after you had been nothin' but nice to me. Such a sweet angel. Nothin' but a good little girl to me." You smiled as you bobbed your head faster, helping yourself with your hands every now and then. He really was such a kind, pure-spirited person (putting away the fact that his cock was shoved down your throat). Even if you had begun to guess how he felt about you the first few weeks, it was still sweet hearing him say it. Spit had begun to pool around the corners of your mouth, making the noises coming from your lips even filthier. They were wet and sticky, echoing around the room, sometimes interrupted by a sudden pop when your mouth slipped away from his cock.

"Oh, baby, you're drooling everywhere." He brought a single knuckle to your lips and cheeks and began brushing off spit. "M'gonna cum in your mouth, honey, can I?" His finger then caressed your cheek as his breaths began to grow rapid and unsteady. You nodded with a small hum.

His hand stayed pressed against your head, still holding your hair into a ponytail. Even now, knee deep in such filth, he was still such a gentleman. But then, his grip shifted—tightened. A low, instinctive reaction. His eyes, darkened and wide, dropped down to meet yours. The soft blue was now nearly eclipsed by pupils so dilated they looked black in the dim light. His chest rose sharply with each breath, muscles tight under his shirt, as if his body couldn't quite decide between tensing up or melting down completely. And just when you thought he might say something—anything—he tilted his head back again with a low, stuttering whimper, shoulders twitching like he’d lost the strength to hold back.

"M'gonna— God, taking me so well, such a messy girl. Fuck me, fuck me, fuckme, fuckme, fuck-" His words died out on his throat, and his throat closed up. Your mouth continued to lap at him up and down, forcing him into your throat and bobbing your head to meet the snapping of his hips. Suddenly, with one last thrust, he moaned, and you felt the warm sensation of cum trickling down your throat. He held you there by the back of your head, pressed flush against the skin of his pelvis. His hips stuttered and his muscles flexed as he let out a string of incoherent words.

As he continued to paint your throat, he tried to excuse himself and be the gentleman that he is once again. He sounded like he was about try cry, and for a second you were sure he was when you saw a tiny speckle of light catching a tear on his cheek. "I'm not usually like this—Oh!" You tried not to cough or choke, but eitherway the sounds of your throat closing up on him were nothing but quiet. "M'sorry, I'm so sorry, baby. So good to me, making me feel so good..."

Finally, he let go of the grip on your hair, and you swallowed everything he gave you. You pulled away from his cock with a small pop as a string of saliva followed your lips. He looked so genuinely fucked out, his breaths came in uneven rhythms, your cheeks were flushed red, some tears had gathered right around the corner of his eyes, and most definitely in yours too.

You sat beside him, curling a hand around his shoulders, gently combing through his damp hair as he softly opened his eyes. His lashes fluttered like he was waking from some fever dream, and for a moment, he just stared—like he wasn’t sure you were real. Then he blinked a few times, the last of the tears clinging to the corners of his eyes, and let out the softest, shakiest breath.

"Hi," you whispered, your thumb brushing a stray lock from his forehead. God, what a ridiculously gorgeous man—even flushed and undone, or maybe especially then.

"Hi, right back at you," he managed, voice breathless and rough-edged. He giggled—just a short, embarrassed sound, like he couldn’t believe himself. His hand found your thigh, grounding himself.

You leaned in, your forehead brushing his temple, lips ghosting the shell of his ear. “You know…” you murmured, voice all soft and teasing, “You’ve still got to get that Superman interview.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t stammer. Didn’t blush like he usually did when you got close. Instead, he turned his head slightly, just enough that his mouth nearly brushed yours, eyes shining with something sharp and knowing.

“Oh, absolutely. You’ve got the right person for that.”

The way he said it—low, smug, a little amused—sent a flicker down your spine. There was a glint in his eye that hadn’t been there before. Not the bashful gleam of Clark Kent fumbling with his words. No. This was something else entirely. A secret he was daring you to notice.

Clark’s eyes darkened with playful mischief after that as he suddenly shifted, moving with surprising speed to pin you gently against the corner of the couch. His broad frame hovered over you, breath warm against your skin.

A slow grin spread across his face. “But I think,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, “It’s your turn now. Pa always said a gentleman knows how to return a favor.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, that mischievous smile still playing on his lips. Then, with a soft chuckle, he leaned in just slightly, the space between you charged with unspoken promises.

And just like that, the moment hung suspended—waiting, electric—before the world around you slipped away, leaving only the two of you in that quiet, perfect pause.

MINI AUTHORS NOTE: would yall believe me if i told you i got my period while writing the smut bit…

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athenalvss · 18 days ago

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Could you write clark kent x reader who uses her "woman powers" against him. She knows Clark likes her and is like, let me get this man becasues he looks all cute with the eyes he's giving me. You know how men love to be useful, reader wold constantly try to get him to do things for her to lure him in . Stuff like " can you please come lift this thing for me Clark, your just so strong" or " I cant reach off the top shelf" + plus giving him a cheek kiss afterwards, till eventually asking him out.

WAYNE STRATEGIES - ( clark kent! )

summary: In revenge against your brother, you went to work in Metropolis and perhaps your brother's league partner makes you put into action the Wayne strategies to have the person you want.

pairing: Clark kent x Wayne!fem reader

note: I based a lot of Clark on David, I really loved how silly and cute he looked

open request - clark masterlist

The last big argument with Bruce was the final straw. You really wanted to understand that everything Bruce did was to help and protect you, but he should have tried harder and avoided making you feel like he was trying to control your life like another Wayne Enterprises investment. So in response, you packed your bags and left without warning. It wasn't like he couldn't quickly figure out where you'd gone, but where had you really gone?

It wasn't Paris, or Tokyo, or London, but Metropolis. Right where you knew he didn't want you, and if you wanted to make things worse for him, what should you do? Of course, you got a job at the most visible, most public, and most annoying place for Bruce Wayne: The Daily Planet.

It was more than obvious that you didn't need the salary, nor did you need the recognition. You did it because you could, because he would never have allowed it, because you wanted something of your own. Even if it was on a whim or out of spite.

At first, you thought the punishment was going to be more for you than for Bruce. The first few days you really suffered at work, putting up with intense journalists and the lousy coffee they had in the offices. You really missed Alfred's Chinese tea, but everything changed the day you saw him walk in the door late.

Clark Kent.

Rolled-up shirt, crooked glasses, gentle smile. Low voice, kind gaze, tousled hair with those soft, dark curls. A gentleman from another era, if you ask me. He walked into the office almost without wanting to attract attention, but it was impossible because he was incredibly handsome, and had those shoulders that clearly didn't come from a sedentary life. You didn't want to imagine what he was wearing under that jacket and white shirt.

But that hadn't been the most interesting thing... what mattered was how he looked at you.

The moment his eyes met yours for the first time, when he looked at you with that hint of shy surprise, as if he didn't understand what someone like you was doing in a place like that, you knew you had him.

You didn't go over to greet him, just gave him a half-smile, as if you hadn't noticed... but you knew perfectly well that his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary. That his pace slowed. That his heart, even though you couldn't hear it, probably sped up.

And for a moment you thought it wasn't so bad to be vengeful towards your brother, that it had been a good choice not to get on the plane this morning to return to the mansion, with a stimulus like that you could live in Metropolis for the rest of your life.

In the following days, he was the one who looked for you, always trying to be discreet, but without much success due to his clumsy behavior and his constant searching.

One morning you saw him arrive from your desk, with that broad-shouldered gait and careful steps, as if he measured every inch of his existence so as not to disturb anyone. He was holding two glasses of coffee, one of them slightly trembling. You pretended not to notice until he stopped beside you.

"Hi" he greeted, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth as if he still didn't quite believe he was talking to you.

You looked up slowly, as if you were just noticing. "Hi, Clark." Your voice was soft, your gaze steady on his.

He handed you one of the cups with a shyness that charmed you. "I heard you don't like the office coffee. This one's from a cafe on the corner. It has vanilla and... jasmine, I think."

Your fingers brushed his as you took the glass; on purpose, of course. You felt him gulp, his eyes lower to your lips for just a second.

"Were you spying on me, Kent?" You looked at him with a mischievous look and your tone changed from time to time to a more joking one.

He cleared his throat. "Just... I have good hearing."

You smiled. You let him sit in his discomfort for a few seconds, then leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Not too long, just enough to let him process. "Thanks, Clarkie, just what I needed." And you walked back to your desk as if nothing had happened.

You saw him stand still for a few more seconds, his gaze somewhat lost and his heart, surely, on the verge of imploding.

After that, Clark started stopping by to say hello every day. Sometimes with a new coffee, other times with a lame excuse about something he supposedly needed to ask you, or just with that awkward but sweet "hello" you started expecting more than you liked to admit.

And well, you decided to have a little fun, there was nothing wrong with having a little fun with the guy who was smitten with you if it was mutual, and it was a great moment to finally have him hooked using, what Alfred called 'girl powers', ancient flirting techniques if you asked him, because there is nothing more important for a man in love than feeling useful.

The first time you did it it was really subtle.

"Clark," you called from your desk, your brows slightly furrowed. "Could you come here for a second?"

He arrived right away, as always, with that incorrigible good-natured attitude. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, but I can't reach the top shelf." You pointed to the filing cabinets. "Can you get me that gray box?"

Clark didn't ask, didn't hesitate. He just nodded, stretched, allowing you to observe that charming gesture where his shirt stretched slightly around his shoulders, and handed you the box as if it weighed nothing.

"Wow," you said with a half smile. "What would I do without you, Clark?" You winked at him. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you walked over to him and placed another soft kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Clarkie."

This time his reaction was even better.

He stood there like a statue, processing what had just happened, as if his operating system needed to reboot.

Of course you didn't need him to reach it for you, you were tall enough for anything, let alone being able to reach a shelf wearing the shoes you wore, but Clark didn't even notice that, a man in love doesn't notice the details of anything.

Since then, you made it part of your routine.

"Clark, can you open this for me? My hands are cold… and yours look so big."

"Clark, can you help me with the printer? You're so patient with technology."

"Clark, could you come with me to get some documents from the archive? It's a little late and I feel safer with you."

Always with a smile. Always with a touch of warmth, and always with the reward Clark most awaited: a kiss on the cheek that would leave his mind clouded for hours.

And you found yourself enjoying yourself more and more, because deep down, you knew this wasn't just about Bruce anymore, or pride, or revenge. It was about Clark, the way he managed to make you feel seen, heard, and valued.

It was on one of those days, after a sillier than usual exchange, you asking him to change an ink cartridge because “your manicure was new” and him with that soft chuckle that only came out when he was very nervous, that you noticed.

Clark was about to say something to you, the way you saw him move, the way he approached you with his hands in his pockets and that sparkle in his eyes you already recognized, as if he were turning his thoughts over in his mind about five hundred times before speaking.

He was going to ask you out, and just to throw him off, you decided to beat him on it.

"Clarkie," you interrupted her attempt before she even opened her mouth.

"Yeah?"

You moved a little closer, close enough to notice how his shoulders tensed, how his eyes dropped to your mouth and then back up, guilty.

"Do you have plans tonight?" you asked with measured casualness, as if you weren't about to turn his universe upside down.

Clark blinked. Once. Twice. and you had to hold back a smile.

"Uh... tonight?" he repeated, as if he needed confirmation that this had, in fact, been real.

You nodded, barely biting your lip to hold back your laughter. "Clark, it's a simple question. Do you have plans or not?"

"No, I don't have" he said quickly, a little faster than he probably planned. .

"Perfect," you said, as if you'd already decided before asking. "There's a place near my house, I like the menu, and... well, I don't want to go alone."

He looked at you, blinking with that mixture of surprise and joy that made him look even more adorable. "Are you sure?"

"I'm inviting you, aren't I?" you smiled. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to."

Clark looked down for a second, as if he needed to process everything before looking back up at you again, a small smile now on his face. "Then yes. I'd love to."

“Eight o’clock,” you said, and this time, as always, you leaned in to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

And there you left him: standing there with the dumbest, happiest smile in the world, as if he couldn't believe his luck.

#dc masterlist #dc x reader #clark kent fluff #clark kent x reader #imagine clark kent #clark kent imagine #superman imagine #superman x fem!reader #superman x reader #clark kent x female reader

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veejiez · 9 months ago

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Another geto size kink vanilla smut please. I can't get enough. I always go back to reread yours it's so good

Oh, boyfriend Geto Suguru and his petite girl — who he's obsessed with.

+ warnings; size kink, panty-humping, some dirty talk

+ an; omg this was so yum to write, thank you for reminding me that Geto Suguru + a size kink exists 😋💗

Bf!Geto who's got one enormous hand resting on the small of your back during parties, his straight lips twisting into a grin when he looks down at you — a dirty grin that gets you tingly all over. Oh his heart lurches when you crane your neck to look back at him. As he commented when the two of you first met three years ago, "It's cute that you have to put in so much effort to look up at me."

... and pre-bf!Geto who used to randomly whisk you off your feet, big biceps twitching and flexing against your sides, as a 'joke' — yeah, yeah, it was just to surprise you. But he just wanted to have a sweet small girl in his arms, and wanted to show off how strong he was.

Just standing behind him and seeing his big broad back worked your imagination — how d'you think he'd look from the back while driving into your sloppy hole, how his muscles would flex?

And you know, Suguru was always aware each time you were staring even though you thought you were little miss slick, so of course he straightened out his posture — he had to remind you that he hits that 6'3 mark!

Bf!Geto's favorite thing is rubbing his thick fingers up and down your tiny clit through your innocent pink panties, making you shiver and twitch and whine in response to the subtlest friction as he's got you bent over his black-sheeted bed. It makes him smirk, it makes his cock stand stiff and upright in his pants, leaky cockhead dripping precum against his inner thigh.

It's in this bed that bf!Geto loves eating you out — of course, he likes to get you impatient, taking his time tying his hair up until you tug at the hem of his shirt and practically pull him into you for a hot, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that he just melts into. In minutes he's sliding down, big rough n' calloused hands prying your thighs apart, dragging you closer to his face like you weigh nothing — because you do weigh nothing to a big boy like him.

You're especially reminded of his size kink when he thumbs your pussy lips apart, or when he stuffs his thick fingers inside you, rubbing against your favorite spots like it's just a fun little game for him. Or when he thumbs your actual lips apart to explore your mouth a bit before sliding his fingers in — "Get 'em wet for me, baby." he murmurs, eager to feel your tiny mouth.

Bf!Geto loves squishing his cock against your slit, dividing your soft lips until they sandwich him. Of course, he acts so nonchalant, blowing his hair out of his face as he looks down at the pretty sight of your pussy getting dwarfed by his thick girth.

When his black, sultry eyes drift up to meet yours, you feel your stomach drop and your face heats up.

"Feel me pulsing, baby?" he teases, "Aw, sorry, I didn't mean to make you shy. No, come on, don't be shy — " he giggles, leaning in for a fat kiss. "You're so cute."

As the thick middle of his cock's sliding through your folds, his free hand meets yours and pins it down, holds it tight — did you see that? Did you catch the glimpse of his bicep twitching when he squeezed your hand?

bf!Geto still goes crazy each time you grind your pussy back on his cock as if it's the first time all over again. He lets out a hot breath, presses his cockhead tightly against your hole, and rubs so hard through your thong that he half-fucks it into your gushing pussy. They're totally ruined with gooey cum and sticky juices by the time he's done obsessively rubbing his cock against you.

And bf!Geto loves your tiny thongs, loves pulling them back and letting them snap against your holes when he's got you in reverse cowgirl.

And he just simply loves how much smaller your clothes are. When you and him weren't dating yet, he'd let you wear his big t-shirts or hoodies for sleepovers — only to choke and drool the next morning over the sight of little you in his big clothes.

bf!Geto's got thick, thick muscular thighs that press into the back of your plush, smaller thighs. And his long legs? He loved flirting joking "... I think I'm too tall for you — yeah we'd have a hard time having sex, huh?" long before you and him were dating.

And it's true. It's pretty difficult, getting railed by a 6'3 thick-muscled boy like him — that's why sometimes he just resorts to lifting you and fucking you while standing, weighting you against the wall with his whole body and each thrust of his cock.

#🎵I NEED A BIG BOY GIMMIE A BIG BOY #;D #tw: smut #geto suguru #geto #suguru #geto suguru smut #geto smut #suguru smut #geto x reader #geto x reader smut #suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto x you #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut

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tender-rosiey · 7 months ago

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What about sukuna with his shy babygirl when reader goes away for a week and hes left alone to take care of her?

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE YOUR SUKUNA WITH HIS SHY BABYY

silence speaks — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: my favorite duo ever and this is really centered around them cuz they so cute but you do make multiple appearances also BIGGGGGG thanks to @bluebell33 for beta-reading <33

sukuna rarely concerns himself with trifles. the great and feared king of curses has no patience for the mundane.

yet, when it comes to his daughter—his little, bashful shadow—he finds himself tackling challenges he never imagined, especially now that you’ve gone to visit your ill mother for the week.

and left him alone with her.

you had reassured him it would be fine, and he had sneered at the implication that he couldn’t manage a child for a mere seven days.

but now he finds himself cursing you as he stares down the wide-eyed girl standing in the middle of the courtyard.

she’s clutching her favorite stuffed fox, her tiny fingers squeezing the fabric tightly as if it’s her only anchor in the world.

her big eyes flit up to him and then dart away just as quickly, cheeks pinkening as she retreats into herself, the same way she always does when the world feels too big.

sukuna huffs, scratching the back of his head. “what?” he grumbles, his voice rough, but she doesn’t flinch.

not anymore. she’s long since grown used to his tone, his presence, his towering frame. still, she doesn’t answer, only fiddles with the hem of her little kimono.

he exhales sharply through his nose. “if you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

her lips purse into a small pout, and her voice comes out barely above a whisper. “...hungry.”

of course.

sukuna crosses his arms, his four hands resting against his broad chest as he glances toward the kitchen.

he knows how to prepare a meal in theory—he’s watched you do it countless times—but actually doing it? for her?

“fine. sit,” he commands, gesturing toward the veranda.

she shuffles over without a word, sitting cross-legged with her fox in her lap, her gaze following his every movement like he’s some kind of unapproachable deity—which, to most, he is.

the kitchen is uncomfortably quiet without you bustling about in it.

sukuna’s hands work awkwardly, chopping vegetables with precision but lacking the rhythm you make it look so easy to achieve.

he scowls as he tastes the broth, finding it bland despite his efforts. still, he’s not about to admit defeat.

when he finally places the bowl in front of her, she looks up at him with wide, unsure eyes. “you made it?”

“who else, brat?” he snaps, though there’s no real bite to his words. he sits down beside her, his knee brushing against her tiny one as he watches her cautiously take a sip.

her lips curve into a small smile, and her voice is soft but earnest. “it’s good.”

he grunts, looking away to hide the faint twitch of his own mouth. “damn right it is.”

the next day, sukuna finds himself in the garden, sitting on the terrace with his arms crossed, watching his daughter as she toddles around, her fox clutched tightly to her chest.

she sticks close to him, circling the area but never straying far, her wariness of the world evident in her every hesitant step.

she pauses by the small patch of wildflowers, her tiny hand reaching out to pluck a bloom.

with the flower in her grasp, she shuffles over to him, her gaze flickering between the flower and her father’s intimidating figure.

“what’s that?” he asks flatly, raising a brow as she stops just short of his shadow.

“for...you,” she mumbles, her voice so soft he almost misses it.

sukuna narrows his eyes, leaning back against the wooden pillar as he watches her extend the flower toward him with trembling hands.

“what the hell am I supposed to do with that?” he scoffs, though his voice carries no malice.

her lips press into a nervous line, and she steps closer, holding it out insistently.

her little brow furrows in determination, and for a moment, she looks so much like you that it pulls a rare flicker of amusement from him.

he grunts, snatching the flower between two of his massive fingers as if it’s an inconvenience.

he twirls it once before tossing it onto the porch beside him, his crimson eyes meeting hers. “now what?”

she fidgets, her gaze darting to the ground. “it’s...pretty,” she whispers.

he leans back further, waving her off. “get out of here before you start thinking I’ll entertain you all day.”

she scurries off, her fox in one hand and her quiet laughter trailing behind her. sukuna glances at the discarded flower, its petals soft and vibrant against the wooden boards.

with a grunt, he flicks it off the edge with his finger, muttering under his breath. “ridiculous.”

the days that follow are...strange.

sukuna quickly realizes that his daughter is quiet by nature—content to play alone, to sit with her little fox and hum softly to herself.

she doesn’t demand his attention often, which leaves him both relieved and unsettled.

he’s used to people begging for his time, his favor, his mercy.

but she? she seems perfectly content with the simplest gestures—a pat on the head, a rare smile, his presence alone.

it’s on the third day, however, that she tests his patience.

the rain starts in the afternoon, a light drizzle that quickly turns into a downpour. sukuna is inside, reviewing a scroll, when he hears it—a soft, hiccuping sob from the other room.

he’s on his feet instantly, his massive frame filling the doorway as he finds her curled up in the corner, her fox clutched to her chest, her face buried in its fur.

“what the hell are you crying about?” he asks.

she sniffles, peeking up at him with tear-streaked cheeks. “it’s...loud,” she mumbles, her voice trembling.

it takes him a moment to realize she means the thunder.

he sighs, running a hand down his face before crouching down in front of her. “you’re afraid of a little noise?”

she nods hesitantly, her bottom lip quivering.

“pathetic.”

but instead of leaving her to deal with it alone, he picks her up, her tiny body fitting easily against his broad chest as he carries her to the main room.

he sits down on the tatami mat, cradling her against him as the storm rages outside.

she buries her face in his chest, her small hands clutching at his robes, and for once, he doesn’t push her away.

“you’re fine,” he mutters, his hand smoothing over her hair in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture. “it’s just noise. nothing can hurt you while I’m here.”

and somehow, she believes him.

by the time the week is up, sukuna is more than ready for you to return.

he won’t admit it, of course, but the sight of you walking through the gate fills him with an odd sense of relief.

your daughter, however, is the one who reacts most visibly.

“mama!” she cries, scrambling out of sukuna’s lap and running to you.

you scoop her up, laughing as she babbles about everything that’s happened in your absence, her words tumbling over each other in her excitement.

sukuna watches from the doorway, his arms crossed as he leans against the frame.

“well?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “how’d it go?”

“she’s alive, isn’t she?”

you laugh, stepping closer as you shift your daughter in your arms. your free hand brushes against his arm, a small, fleeting gesture that he doesn’t pull away from.

“she is,” you reply softly, tilting your head as you study his expression.

he’s looking past you now, crimson eyes sharp but distant, his gaze lingering on the garden beyond the estate gates.

it’s quiet for a beat too long, the weight of something unsaid hanging between you.

“did you miss me?” you ask, your voice light and teasing, but there’s a genuine curiosity beneath it.

he scoffs, his lips curling into something that’s not quite a smirk.

“don’t flatter yourself,” he mutters, but he turns his back to you, and you can’t help but feel it’s to hide a specific thing.

you smile knowingly, shifting your daughter higher on your hip as she snuggles into you, her fox tucked safely in her arms. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

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do not copy or plagiarize or I will make you drink pure ginger

check out my buy me a coffee!

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna ryoumen x you #sukuna ryoumen x reader #ryomen x reader #ryomen x you #ryomen x y/n #jjk sukuna x reader #sukuna fanfic #sukuna fluff

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cherrynpink · 3 months ago

Text

freak like me

pairing: nerdy!dino x f!reader

genre: project partners, mutual pining, lots of daydreaming, smut (with a bit of plot) MDNI!

warnings: shy cutesy dino who has my heart (he is a secret freak!), idk how american uni works so just go w it pls, dino and chan are both used interchangeably, oc has nerd kink (ahem), forward oc, cursing, a bit of manipulation?, too many thirsty thoughts, kissing, choking, spit kink, unprotected sex (do not do this!), oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, clit stimulation, brat!oc, brattamer!dino, mean dino, he calls oc slut/whore, dirty talk!!!, riding, missionary position, creampie, size kink?, crying, hair grabbing, ass slapping, orgasm denial, cum eating, it is honestly filthy, lmk if i missed anything!

w.c.: 5.4k

playlist: freak like me

for more of my work, check out my masterlist!

note: thank you so much for liking the last fic so much :( didn't expect such a positive reception so i was super motivated to write this one! plus these pictures of him did something to me like y'all don't get it like i do bcs i went crazy and HAD to write.

also u can message me here or comment if u want to be part of my taglist! my requests are open if u have something u wanna read, or just talk. feedback is highly appreciated hope u like this one hehe :3

“Right, so the semester end project will be a group project.” Your professor says as the whole class sighs in disappointment and annoyance.

“I know you all don’t like these group projects, but it’s compulsory guys, it’s worth 30% of your final grade. If it’s any consolation, I requested the dean to let it be done in pairs, so be a little grateful, I don’t want anyone coming up to me after class asking to change partners.”

Great. The only thing you hated more than group projects were the ones done in pairs. In spite of all the arguments in groups, atleast you didn’t have to do any work if you didn’t feel like it. But now not only will there be conflicts with your partner, but you’ll have to do half the work too. Just great.

“Y/n? miss y/n?” your professor calls pulling you out of your zoned out state as you raise your hand in confusion.

“You’ll be partnered with Mr. Chan.”

Oh. This was going to be fun. Not only was Chan really REALLY good at studies, but also so cute. You first met him just on the second day of class, when you asked him for a pencil because being klutz you are, you had forgotten you had that class that day and had practically rolled off your bed as your roommate woke you up minutes before it started, reaching a bit late and resulting in your professor scolding you. Chan had coyly given you the pencil, later passing you a note in the middle of the class written “you can ask me later if you have any doubts about what was taught before you arrived as you were a bit late :)”. Oh, he was so cute.

That was how your friendship started, though you never talked much outside of class- other than the occasional times he replied to your story or liked it, you and him were mostly formal with each other, never crossing the boundary of “classmates.”

Sometimes you would ask him for his notes, and being the nice guy he is, he would send the snapshots in a second. You would later leave an iced americano on his usual seat, as a gesture of thankfulness; and a note along with it. Sometimes when the professor’s voice cracked in the middle of the lecture, your eyes would find his- giving each other a slight smile.

It was always quick glances, polite words, and soft smiles, because you both never seemed to take it further. But you were tired now, tired of pretending you didn’t picture his face squished under your thighs, glasses all fogged up and your slick dripping down his chin. Tired of acting like you didn’t violate your poor pillow every other night imagining how he would sound with him in your throat.

Was he a head pusher? Or someone that just begged you to let him come? Would he let you tie him up? Or would he want to tie YOU up? you were sick of acting like he didn’t get you so so wet when he answered a question in class and fixed his glasses, and you had a plan to change that.

As the class ends, you see him coming up to you.

“Should we work at the library at 6 today? I’ll get us some coffee and snacks to eat while we work!” he says with a small smile on his face.

You could agree to the library at 6, after all he has pitched it so sweetly, but there is a devil on your shoulder that is actually so evil, because you hear a voice in your head saying no way you’re meeting him in a public place for the things you want to do with him.

“I’m a bit busy at 6 Chan, I-”

“Dino! You can call me dino too. All my friends usually call me that.” He says shyly.

You smile sweetly. “I’m a bit busy at 6 dino, I have my shift at the café.” You say pouting at him. They are blatant lies. You do not have your shift at the café today because it is closed, something about the owner being at a wedding, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You can come over to my place at 10 if it’s okay with you? I doubt the library will be open till the time I get off work.” You feel a bit bad, but you’re just inviting him over because it’s more comfortable at home, right? Yeah! Nothing needs to happen just because you’ll be alone with him. (You are lying to yourself at this point because there is no way you don’t lose your mind at the thought of being alone with him.)

“Oh, okay sure! text me the address, I’ll be there.” He says with a sweet smile and you might crush him because of how much you want to squish his cheeks right now.

Dino might go crazy. He’s not even sure if you could see he wasn’t paying attention to a thing you said, because he was too busy staring at your lips the entire time, and then your collarbones, until his eyes travelled to your tits trapped in your blouse which was just a little too tight. Tight enough to accentuate the curve of your breasts; but not letting them spill out- just tight enough.

On top of that, if he’s left alone with you, he has no idea how he’s going to prevent a tent from forming in his pants, so he opts for a oversized hoodie long enough to cover him and a pair of grey sweatpants because it is your house after all, he can dress casual, and he doesn’t want you to know he took 20 minutes to decide what he wore so that his outfit says-“hey, I’m casual and comfortable” and “I’m put together” at the same time.

He is sharp on time, you say to yourself as the bell rings. You’re a bit nervous approaching the door in your small plaid skirt and sweater, knowing how he always stares at you whenever you wear a skirt to class. Plus, you’re wearing a something a little special underneath it, just it case. You push the self-doubting thoughts to the back of your head as you open your door and he is a sight to see. He looks so delicious in those animal print framed glasses and messy hair, there is a glow on his face and oh, those stupid goddamn grey sweatpants. It is OVER for you.

“You’re very punctual, it’s exactly 10.” You giggle. “Your hair looks a bit of a mess dino, coming from another girl’s place?” you say as you smirk, leaning against the door.

“No! No, I just came from the gym, my hair is still a bit wet from the shower.” He says as he ruffles his hair and comes in, setting his bag on the table in your living room. Oh? Pretty boy goes to the gym as well, is there anything he doesn’t do. He usually only wore oversized hoodies and t-shirts to class, never really revealing his true figure; nor did you ever see him much in parties despite his friends being a part of the frat, so this was a new side of him you were seeing right now.

“My roommate is gonna be home in a bit, so we can work in my room, mhm?” you ask, acting intentionally doe eyed and innocent. Lies. They are all lies. Your roommate isn’t going to be home in a bit, she’s at her girlfriend’s dorm. And she is not going to be home until tomorrow after class. And maybe if Chan was thinking clearly, he would’ve asked why your roommate would mind you working in the living room with him. But he’s not thinking clearly, too busy staring at your legs and imagining his face between your thighs; so, forgive him if he isn’t at his highest functioning brain activity right now.

He murmurs a quiet okay as he follows you to your room as you lead him. And your room is so you. He doesn’t know how to explain it, because he doesn’t know you so well yet, but as soon as he enters through the door, he sees plushies laid out neatly on your bed, and your scent all around him. He can see posters of bands and movies dressing up your walls and random Sanrio figurines all around the room. He lays his bag on your bed, taking out his laptop as you sit next to him on your chair, and your skirt rides up, revealing your soft thighs further. And maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him, but he can almost see pink lace fabric peaking from underneath your skirt. And maybe you’re just a bit cold, but he swears he can see your nipples peeking through your sweater.

Every passing minute, he is making it so hard for you to keep your composure. He keeps sharing his ideas about the project and telling you what you should work on. Why is hearing him talk about physics so sexy? You don’t know what it is, but you can’t help but think how hot he looks when he talks so passionately. Your panties are literally getting soaked as the time goes on. It’s been an hour, and he hasn’t even taken a second to look at you yet! You’re quite literally whoring yourself out for him and all he cares about is inductive motor or whatever the hell the project is about.

“Channie, can we move to the bed? I’m feeling a bit tired from my shift.” You say, fake yawning.

“Mmm? Oh sure.” It is over for him, he thinks to himself.

As you sit up on your bed, your skirt FULLY rides up, revealing your baby pink lace panties. You push it down gently, saying “oops” as you giggle. And something inside him snaps. All control he had, he’s lost it now and he physically cannot hold back anymore. His gaze darkens, as he pushes you down, his grip on your throat as he gets on top of you. You gasp as he takes you by surprise, but the shock lasts barely 5 seconds before you smirk.

You reach up as your lips find his, pulling him deeper into your mouth as you grab his hair. From the get go, it is passionate, and rough and messy, because both of you are left gasping for your breath- your cheeks rosy and your chest heaving. Deciding to tease him further, you bite his lip. He moans into your mouth, mumbling “brat.” Taking the opportunity, you slip your tongue into his mouth deepening the kiss, and it is so sloppy; neither of you willing to give up control. The heat between your legs grows because of the way his tongue fights with yours to take over, which has your head spinning.

“Channie” you moan, as you feel the hard press of his body against yours, the sound of your lips smacking together and your heavy gasping filling the room.

His hand reaches to lift your sweater slightly, fingers making contact with your bare skin as they keep moving upwards until they meet your lacy bra, delicately toying with the material.

“You wore this for me baby? Knew this was going to happen?”

All you do is giggle as you continue to kiss down his jaw, alternating between sucking and biting. But that doesn’t sit right with him, as his other hand wraps around your neck, squeezing just the right amount so that his grip is tight enough, but still allowing you to breathe, and suddenly you’re flooding your panties.

“This okay?” he asks, his eyes filled with concern and genuine worry, looking for any discomfort in your eyes, desperate for your approval to continue.

You nod, because it’s actually all you can do. He loosens the grip on your throat and begins to pull his hand away as he says “Fuck, if you want me to go on, you’re gonna have to answer me baby.”

You’re quick to bring his hand back on your neck, your head turning left and right in panic, “No! No, please I want it!” you say as he smirks at your desperate state.

“Yeah? Then answer me when I ask you a question baby. You wore this set for me pretty?”

“Just wanted you to notice me, pay attention to me.” You say between kisses.

“And you thought whoring yourself out would be the way to get my attention” he chuckles. “Thought it was a mistake when you flashed me, turns out baby’s just an attention whore.”

He gets off of you and the bed and a whine leaves your throat as he pulls you down by your ankles as your hips reach the foot of your bed in an instant as he begins taking off his glasses.

“No!” you protest. “don’t- don’t take them off, I like them.” You say timidly. He picks you up, flipping your previous position as he seats you on his lap, taking off his hoodie, and you cannot help but stare. You did not know he was SO built and buff, your eyes are practically eating him up as you feel drool building up in your mouth. Oh, you NEED to suck him off right now. And that’s pretty much all it takes for you as you get on your knees for him.

When you look up to him, there is hunger in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before, his gaze full of lust. He can’t remember how many times he’s pictured you like this, on your knees, so innocent, a pathetic expression on your face, waiting for him to give you your next instruction.

Those stupid man whore grey sweatpants, you need them off now.

You fumble with it’s band as you impatiently pull it down, revealing his Calvin Klein boxers, and you clearly have no time for this nonsense, rushing to pull his boxers down as well, all while he looks down on you, leaning back on the bed- hands on either side of him with a big cocky smirk on his face, because he cannot wait to see the next look on your face.

Your face: it’s so transparent, so revealing. It’s literally like you wear your heart on your sleeve. Everything you feel, you think, you want, it’s clear- plain as day on your face. And as soon as you pull his boxers off, there it is- pure amusement and shock, as his dick twitches at the sight of your wide doe eyes. You knew he was big, atleast that’s what you pictured in your nightly scenarios. But you did not know he was this big both in length and in girth as well, his angry tip staring at you, begging for your attention.

“Take your sweater off.” He demands. No pleas, no hesitance. An order. And who would you be to defy him? you teasingly take it off, all while a small smile adorns your lips as you throw the sweater somewhere on the floor alongside his hoodie.

You take his length in your hand, rubbing your thumb over his tip- spreading his pre-cum around it as your eyes go from doe like to those of a siren as they stare straight into his, spitting right on it seductively and oh, he thinks he’s in love. You pump it up and down and fuck- you can’t even completely wrap your hand around it, giving it a little squeeze as you go along, building the tension. But he doesn’t seem too happy about it as he sighs in annoyance. He’s sick of your teasing, because even after his multiple attempts to discipline you, you’ve decided to continue being a brat.

In the blink of an eye, he takes your hand off of him, grabs you by your jaw and squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and fore finger- the rest of the them lying on your jaw, forcing to you part your lips slightly.

“Do you trust me y/n?” he says softly, yet his voice dripping with dominance as you nod.

“Open your mouth, tongue out baby.”

And what he does next takes you by surprise, as he leans down, collecting a glob of spit in his mouth as it drips down from his mouth to yours, making you moan as you close your eyes, feeling the warm liquid on your tongue.

“Swallow.” he says as he caresses your jaw. And his wish is your command; you let out a loud moan as you feel it travel down your throat.

“Good girl. You’ll listen to me now, yeah? No more teasing. I’ve been holding back until now but if you don’t behave, I’ll have to fuck you like the whore you are. Better yet, I’ll eat you out, and get you so so close. I’ll be at it for hours baby, I have no place to be, but I won’t let you cum. So, tell me, you’re gonna be a good girl for me now?”

And all you can do is nod as he smirks, because now, he holds the power over you, and you want him to take over you. Don’t want to think about anything, just do whatever he says. And he can see that, see you fully slipping into subspace.

He holds his dick in his hand, and as your mouth chases his tip, he slaps it against your cheek. All he does is laugh, because you just look so pathetic under him. Tits spilling out of your see through pink lace bra, eyes on the brink of tears, fists balled up in your lap because he won’t let you touch him.

He grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slaps his dick against your other cheek as he says “tap my thigh twice in you wanna stop, okay?” and finally rubs his tip against your lips, parting them immediately as you engulf it in your mouth, sucking on it as if it’s a popsicle, swirling your tongue all around it, making him groan.

Slowly, he pushes his dick in inch by inch until it hits the back of your throat, and its laughable, because half of it still can’t be wrapped around your tiny mouth even though your jaw is doing gymnastics to accommodate half of him and he lets out a loud moan due to the insane pleasure it gives him. Since he won’t let you move yet, enjoying the feeling of cockwarming your mouth too much, you drag your tongue up and down, making him hiss.

Finally, he decides to fuck your throat, sliding your mouth up and down his dick as if your mouth is just a fleshlight for him to use, making your eyes roll back. He starts slow, as to ease you in; but is quick to fasten his pace to meet his needs. But you want to do more, so your hands reach up to play with his balls, and oh does it take him by surprise. All he can do while fucking your mouth is mumble sweet nothings, praising you, telling you how good you’re being letting him use you like this. And his words are working, because at this point your slick is running down your thighs and your cunt is in a desperate need of attention, as you grind it against the heel of your foot and when you look up to him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful. His glasses lay low on his nose as his head is thrown back in pleasure and his hair is messy, sticking to his forehead due to the sweat; yet his hand is precise is controlling your mouth by your hair. His buff chest heaving desperate for air as his ears and cheek are a pretty shade of pink for you.

Suddenly he looks down to meet your eyes staring at him in lust, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything hotter as he sees you grind against your foot pathetically all whilst he fucks your warm mouth. He can feel the vibration of your mouth as you moan around him, and he thinks he’s in heaven. You look so dirty, spit dribbling down your chin, pupils dilated and red with desire, tears streaming down your cheeks because of how deep he’s hitting it right now. He is just so close, but no way he doesn’t cum in your pussy today, so he pulls you off his dick as you welp, a string of spit connecting your lips to his tip.

“I’ll come in your mouth some other day baby, need to be in you right now.” He says responding to your cute pout as he pulls you up to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his thigh once again.

His hands travel to your back to undo your bra in an instant as it’s thrown somewhere on the bed behind him. Immediately his mouth is attached to your hardened nipple as you let out a loud moaning, feeling his warm tongue on your cold skin.

“I’m so fucking sick of you parading around in this stupid excuse of a skirt that barely covers your ass y/n.” He says as his hands travel down and under your skirt, making contact with your dripping lace, running his fingers up and down. He can feel your slick on his own thighs.

“Oh? You’re already soaked, baby. But I haven’t even touched you yet, wanna tell me what got you so wet?” he says as he mocks you, still not taking his attention off your breasts, sucking them and marking them up with hickeys all around and all you can do is moan as you dig your nails into his back overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“You’re so sensitive, so responsive. I love it baby, so easy for me. Need you to answer me- what’s got you dripping?” he says as he finds your clothed clit, pressing hard against it over the lace.

He’s being so mean right you. The remnants of tears on your cheeks have barely dried up before you can feel yourself getting teary eyed already.

“You! Want you so bad channie! Been wet for you since you walked in the door.” You cry out desperately.

Finally, he stops teasing your covered pussy and pulls it to the side, inserting two of fingers with no warning making you scream out loud. He’s quick to press his thumb to your clit, flicking it as he pumps his fingers into you, all whilst he’s sucking on your tits. His pace is monstrous from the start, and he shows no signs of stopping as he continues to drive them in you, opening you up preparing you to take his big dick. All you can do is drop your head on his shoulder helplessly, taking what he gives you.

“Ah! So good Chan, so- so- fuck! Right there! Need you!” you say as he repeatedly hits your g-spot all while rubbing your clit.

You’ve lost all track of time. You’ve been so close to cumming ever since you saw him walk through your front door that even the slightest touch could get you to your high, and here Chan was, touching you right where you needed, enlightening all your senses.

“I’m about- gonna- gonna cum dino! Please, let me, oh- please let me cum!” you cry out loud, begging him as he pulls out his fingers in an instant and just like that you’re crying again, dropping your head in the crook of his neck.

“What, don’t cry baby.” He says, voice dripping with fake sympathy, because inside him he knows your tears turn him on even more. His hand reaches the small of your back as he caresses it, attempting to calm you down. “Want you to cum on my cock princess. Think you can do that, yeah? You promised you’d be a good girl for me.”

“I was- I was just so close.” You say timidly between your sniffles.

“It’s okay princess, I’ll make you cum real good on my cock.” He whispers, kissing you tenderly for the first time in the evening, and it makes your heart full, reminding you that in spite of everything, this is the same dino that you see in class every day, polite and sweet and beautiful; but you’re brought back to the present as he pulls away from you, shattering your illusion.

“You wanted my attention so bad y/n, you started it. So, you’re gonna take what you wanted- gonna have to ride me.” He says with a shit eating grin that just makes you so mad right now, but eager to give him what he asks for you get off your lap and begin to take off your skirt.

“Did I ask you to take it off? Still not behaving baby. Keep the skirt on; after all you made such a show of wearing them, wanna fuck you in it. Take off your panties.”

Once the pink garment is off, you sit on his lap again, as he slaps his dick against your poor swollen cunt, running his tip against your entrance.

“You know what to do right? It isn’t your first rodeo after all.” He says as he smiles.

God, he is so cocky. If you didn’t desperately need him in you, you would not put up with it for a second. (you would probably put up with it anyway)

You take his dick in your hand as you hover over it, your pussy clenching over nothing, begging to be filled by him as you insert the tip in him; and that alone is such a stretch for you, your legs might give up then and there. But you are anything but determined. Stubborn. Firm on proving yourself. So, you accept the stretch, stabilising yourself by placing one hand on his wide shoulder while you bottom out completely, burying himself into you in one go making him throw his head back and groan in pleasure as his hands reach out to hold your waist, not letting you escape his grasp.

Slowly but surely, you begin by grinding your hips against them, building up the tension as you try to maintain a steady pace; but dino doesn’t look amused, so you begin to move up and down on him, burying your freshly done nails into his shoulders. His hand moves down as you bounce on him, giving your ass a quick slap before finding it going under your skirt and rubbing your clit, making you gasp out.

“Fuck, lift up your skirt baby.” He says, and you comply- lifting up your skirt with one hand, whilst he continues to toy with your clit and you bounce up and down his dick, showing him the mess you both are making; and he loves it.

You’re so eager to please him, prove yourself to him as you continue to alternate between grinding and moving up and down; but the pleasure is SO overwhelming with his hand on your nub and you don’t think you can last. On top of that, you’ve been working so hard to maintain a steady pace for him, that your thighs are about to give out. And he sees that- sees your movement becoming sloppy and messy, your thighs shaking and your grip tightening on his shoulder.

“Tired, baby?”

Why is he such a tease. And why is he being so mean to you when he knows you’re totally spent. You think you’re going to cry for the third time in the night.

“You know, all you have to do is admit it. And I’ll take over. You know you want me to. I can make you feel so good baby, hit all the right spots and you don’t have to lift a finger.” He whispers in your ear before slapping your ass again as he lifts his hips to meet yours in a sharp thrust, showing you how much better he can make you feel.

“I- I- tired. I’m tired channie! Thighs hurt. P- please!” you say between hiccups as he keeps thrusting into you from beneath.

That’s all he needs to hear, before he’s flipping you on your back without taking himself out of you, pressing a kiss to your lips as he begins to actually fuck you. His hands roam all over you as if he’s trying to memorise every curve and dip. He’s thrusting into you with such a force your tits bounce back and forth with every drive of his hips into you while he mumbles pretty words in your ears.

“Pussy so good baby, absolutely squeezing me. Can’t believe you were letting those stupid guys have this while I was right there. Could’ve made you feel this good all this time. Fuck! Always wanted to bend you over the desk whenever you wore those stupid skirts to class. You know, everyone could see you baby. See how much needy you were. You’re probably just too much a slut to care, no?”

His mouth reaches down to bite your nipple, where you’re already so sensitive that you can’t help but cry out. You look so dumb for his cock right now, your nails are absolutely obliterating his back as your legs wrap around him not letting him go, a chant of his name leaving your lips with each of his movement. All you can hear is the sound of his balls slapping against you and your screams. You’re pretty sure you’ll get complaints from your neighbour tomorrow but who cares; he’s just too good. His thrusts get deeper yet sloppier as you feel him reach between your sweaty bodies and rub your clit in an attempt to get you closer.

“Fuck! Gonna cum baby. Are you close?”

“Yes! Channie fuck, love- love your dick so much! So big, need- I’m almost there!”

And that’s all the motivation he needs before he picks up his pace again, angling himself to hit you exactly at the spot that makes you scream, and before you know it, you feel tears streaming down your face again because of the overstimulation.

“Chan! Gonna cum! Please, please- fuck right there, please wanna cum!”

“Where do you want me princess?”

“In! In me, wanna feel you in me, fill me up! Please, need it in me!” you babble.

And that is all it takes for you to let go. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with a loud whine as your nails dig into him deeper, your back arching- the pleasure taking over you as you see stars in front of your eyes, screaming his name over and over again. It’s like you’re floating- because your body feels numb and completely spent. He feels you clenching so much around his cock as you cum, it’s like you’re milking him, before he’s filling you up full of him too, reaching his high, and he cannot stop. Even after you’re done, you’re still rhythmically squeezing him as he doesn’t stop coming in you. You feel him warm in you, and you honestly never want him to pull out, but unfortunately, he does- leaving you empty as his essence begins to spill out of you.

He gets between your legs, watching a mixture of your cum dripping out of you, admiring his work before he’s collecting it in his fingers, tracing your swollen sensitive centre as he comes up to you, and inserting his fingers in your mouth, while he kisses your tears. You can taste him and yourself on your tongue as you close your eyes, swirling your tongue around his fingers. The sight is so hot to him, his dick twitches against you once again before he’s pulling his fingers out and gently kissing you, as he leaves your bed to bring you a towel.

He lies besides you after he cleans you up as you turn you face each other.

“Sorry if I was too rough, got carried away a bit.” He says as you lay your head on his arm and run your hand through his hair.

“You were so good, I think I need to be a little bitchy again for you to put me in my place.” You say as you kiss him, smiling against his lips.

1K notes · View notes

cutehoons02 · 3 months ago

Text

Make be mine

*pairing: frat emo-boy hybrid deer Heeseug x popolar girl

*trope: Roomates to hates to lovers

*synopsis: When you, a bright but impulsive student, agree to share the apartment with a dark-eyed and gloomy-looking hybrid deer, Heeseung, you know it’s going to be an intense experience. But you can’t imagine how. He is introverted, controlled, with an animal instinct that desperately tries to keep at bay. You're the opposite: human, daring, stubborn… and curiously attracted by that mysterious aura that Hee carries with her. Between daily squabbles, shared nights, growing jealousies and an imprinting that risks to bind them forever, the boundary between play and desire becomes ever thinner.

*tags: A lot of tension, the protagonist is curious and cheeky with Heeseung, they have to share the bed, Heeseung is an innocent fake a little shy and grumpy at first, fluffy moments, lots of kisses, pacifiers, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) First time Heeseung knot, statement, pet names (small) (Hee, good boy) +18

(English is not my native language)

12.2k (🦌)

'You’ll be sharing the room with a human.'

Hee had squinted when they’d told him that at the admin office. He’d thought it was a joke. Or a mistake. Why on earth would they put a hybrid—a deer, no less—in the same room as a human girl?

But the housing clerk hadn’t even looked up from her papers. She just shrugged.

'There’s a shortage of single rooms. It’s temporary. Deal with it.'

So he’d dealt with it. More or less.

He had arrived the night before, tossed a hoodie on the bed (yes, just one bed), and put his headphones on, staring at the ceiling, thinking of the ridiculous number of things that could go wrong.

But he hadn’t expected you.

You, bursting through the door all theatrical, mouth already forming a complaint, eyes sweeping dramatically across the room, widening as you spotted the single bed.

And then—bam. You bumped right into him.

The contact. Your scent. Your warm skin.

He looked down at you. Liquid, mischievous eyes. Furrowed brows, soft lips, backpack still slung over one shoulder, and a suitcase bigger than you. And an expression... confused, but intrigued.

She’s cute, was his first thought. Cute in that dangerous way. The kind of girl who looks innocent, but knows exactly what she’s doing.

You looked up at him and froze, like you’d just seen some rare, beautiful animal. Which, technically, was true.

“Oh. Sorry. I... I didn’t see you.”

Hee gave a small nod, already feeling the heat rising to his ears. Those damn spotted ears always gave him away.

“It’s fine. Uh... there’s only one bed, but I’ll get another this week. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Didn’t mean to make myself uncomfortable either, he thought. But it’s too late now.

You nodded, but seemed more interested in him than in the logistics. And when you kept staring—too long—he exhaled through his nose and turned to face you.

“Want a photo?”

Your little smirk was a knife disguised as a caress. “Nah. Don’t need one. I’ll see you every day anyway, right?”

He dropped onto the beanbag with a what-kind-of-human-did-I-get expression and started chewing on his hoodie string—a nervous habit that kicked in whenever he tried to play it cool.

And as he watched you, he realized he’d been right: there was nothing innocent about you.

The way you looked at him. The way you moved. The way you smiled with just one side of your mouth.

There was something about you... shameless, but well-disguised. And that drove him crazy.

“If you’ve got questions, just ask. I can read expressions—even human ones. And yours... is full of question marks.”

You pretended not to hear, adjusting the beanbag like you weren’t mentally jumping on him. Then, suddenly, you spun around, dramatic as ever:

“I’ve decided. I want to ask five questions!”

He laughed quietly, from the gut. And felt the knot of tension loosen a little.

There was something so ridiculous and funny about you that, for the first time, he almost felt... comfortable.

“You didn’t have any questions a second ago.”

“White lie. For a good cause.”

He sank deeper into the beanbag, one leg bent, the other stretched out. Hoodie string still between his teeth, faking nonchalance, eyes sharp and alert. Then he motioned with his hand.

“Go on. Shoot.”

"How do those ears stay upright? Are you controlling them right now?" you asked, staring at the white-and-brown-speckled ears.

Hee narrowed his eyes. “They’re muscles. And no, I’m not. They’re on natural alert.”

"So are you, like, wild in the woods, or do you feel okay around humans?" you asked, watching him chew on the hoodie string, thinking he looked pretty uncomfortable, or maybe just not used to human spaces.

“Depends. Around certain humans... I’m starting to relax.”

"Earlier, were you staring because you were looking for flaws or because you liked what you saw?"

Heeseung’s eyes widened. Silence. Long silence. Then:

“I was staring because you seemed dangerous. And I’m not very disciplined when it comes to dangerous things.”

Your heart did a messy little somersault. You no longer knew if you wanted to test him... or just let him bite you.

He went back to chewing the string. Slower now. But still watching you.

You’re the kind of trouble I’ve always avoided, Hee thought. But if you’re my mistake... I might just let it happen.

It had only been two days.

Two. Days and Heeseung already felt at his limit. You were… too much.

Too bold, too loud, too unpredictable.

A miniature storm, a human creature seemingly born to irritate him to perfection.

She doesn’t do anything like the others.She doesn’t walk—she floats. She doesn’t talk—she teases. And she looks at me like she already knows everything, like she can read beneath my skin.

And then there were your habits. Tidying up the bathroom while he was still in it. Humming quietly while reading your obscene novels. Eating strawberries on the bed with your fingers, leaving them sticky.

And at night? You moved like you were dancing in the sheets. Your scent—soft, feminine, dangerous—clung to the pillow. He’d slept with a hoodie over his head just to block you out. This room is a minefield with pink walls and the scent of peach and vanilla.

That evening, he went out to play basketball just to let off steam.

He ran harder than usual, sweated more than necessary, and pushed his breath until his thoughts finally shut up.

He came back with damp temples, a soaked shirt, and jumped straight into a hot shower. He needed to calm down.

Water. Silence. No sexy, chaotic girl one meter away and that’s exactly when it happened.

While he was pulling on his grey sweatpants—boxers still visible, skin still damp—the door clicked open.

“Hey, have you seen my—”

You. Standing in the doorway. Hair a mess and curious eyes.

“What the—!” Heeseung barked, jumping to the side, heart racing. His tail shot straight up, then froze in a weirdly stiff position.

His ears? Total alert mode.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!” he growled, covering his chest in a mechanical, panicked gesture.

You raised your eyebrows and stared at him like you were watching a particularly interesting scene from a movie you didn’t want to pause.

Golden abs. Sculpted lines. Warm, still-damp skin. Black boxers just peeking above his waistband. A necklace stuck to the hollow of his chest.

And that tail? A perfect mix of tenderness and disaster.

Delightfully awkward. But so sexy, my knees are shaking.

“Do humans not knock anymore? That is something they teach at school, right?” he snapped, his voice rough and a bit unsteady.

You feigned innocence, with that familiar glint of mischief that drove him crazy.

“I just needed one thing. My skincare. Chill.”

You walked past him slowly, deliberately, and while you grabbed the bottle from the shelf, you leaned in. Way too close on purpose.

You inhaled quietly, almost silently—but he noticed. Oh, he definitely noticed.

“Mmmh… you smell like musk, amber, and… rain.” Your eyes sparkled. “Animalistic and sweet. Like you stepped out of a wild fairytale.”

Heeseung froze.

Your voice was low. Your gaze locked on his a flash of a predator disguised as a good girl.

“Out,” he said sharply. But his red ears, frozen tail, and eyes drifting toward your lips told a very different story.

You winked. “Sure, boss.”And giggled on your way out.

Half an hour later.

Heeseung left the room in silence. He had changed—but it was too composed. Too controlled. The problem was, he wasn’t calm at all.

This makes no sense. She’s human. She’s not even my type. But… the way she looks at me. The way she moves. The way she breathes.

She touches me without ever touching me. She’s like a scent that gets into my brain and won’t leave.

And then he saw you. Sitting on the bed, legs crossed, striped pink shorts. Short. Too short and oversized sleep shirt, but it lifted slightly at the sides, revealing smooth skin underneath. And in your hands? A book. One of those pastel-covered ones with scandalous titles.

No. No. No. You’re ruining me, Hee thought. And I’m already falling apart.

You looked up from your book. And caught him instantly, the way you looked at him. Like you were reading him, not the pages. Like you knew exactly how much you were driving him insane.

The room was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of a desk lamp left on.

The bed was just big enough for two people pretending they didn’t want each other.

You were leaning back against the headboard, The Deal open in your lap, bare legs stretched out—one bent carelessly, causing your sleep shirt to ride up just enough to reveal the soft curve of your hip.

Heeseung was lying beside you, wearing nothing but a wrinkled black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His hair still damp from the shower, ears drooping a little from exhaustion, tail relaxed… but alert.

He couldn’t take it anymore, it had only been two days. Two, but this girl was chaos incarnate and that morning… that cursed moment in the bathroom…

Flashback.

He’d just finished his shower, towel over his head, boxers under gray sweats. He’d left the mirror fogged, feeling oddly vulnerable but strangely calm, when the door clicked open innocently.

It was you.

Your eyes locked on his still-wet abs, the droplets sliding down his chest.

Your gaze drifted down the golden skin, the waistband of his sweats hinting at Calvin Klein boxers underneath, and his tail frozen mid-lift.

He shot you a glare.

“Did no one ever teach you to knock? Or are you straight out of the Middle Ages?!”

“I just needed my night cream,” you answered, unfazed. “Also… oh my God, Hee. You smell like musk and rain. I swear, you could bottle that scent and sell it.”

You stepped closer. Brushed your fingers along his arm. Inhaled, softly.

Then, with a playful giggle: “Very… bedroom animal.”

Heeseung froze.

Was she flirting? Or is she just a completely unfiltered menace?

Why is my tail trembling?

Why did I dream of her curled up against me last night?

Back to now.

Hee couldn’t even focus on his phone. Your voice always distracted him—but tonight, especially…

“So, The Deal, huh?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

He was scrolling through TikTok, but every spicy fan art he saw made his brows furrow.

“You know it?”

“Saw it on the feed. Says it has… like, eight spicy chapters?”

“At least,” you answered proudly. “Wanna read it with me?”

“No thanks. I prefer sports anatomy textbooks.”

You laughed.

“You’ve already got the muscles, baby deer. Now you just need the emotional intelligence.”

He stared at you.

“Did you just say… baby deer?”

“Does it offend you?”

Hee nervously bit down on his hoodie string. A reflex. His thing.

Baby deer?! Who does she think she is? And yet… he didn’t move away. If anything, he shifted closer, onto his side.

“Show me those fanarts. People really post that online?”

You scrolled until you found one—an overly passionate illustration.

The couple tangled on a bed. Hands everywhere. Half-dressed. Eyes closed, tongues—

Hee frowned.

“Their… tongues. Are out. What exactly do you like about this?!”

“Everything. The contact, the tension, the repressed desire… the things left unsaid.”

“You’re all insane.” You moved even closer, book in hand.

“Want me to read you a part?”

“No.” You did it anyway. Your voice was a slow whisper. Hypnotic.

“He kissed her with a hunger that couldn’t be hidden. His body, all muscle and want, pressed into hers as his hands lifted her. Their mouths fit together like keys and locks.”

Heeseung blushed, he sat up, shooting you a sharp look.

“This isn’t healthy. Reading stuff like that isn’t healthy.”

“And yet you like it. I can see it. Your tail’s giving you away.”

He turned away, muttering something under his breath. You giggled and, in a velvet-soft voice:

“Want me to tie you up, Hee?”

Time stopped. He spun around, eyes wide. His tail thumped against the mattress. Ears alert.

“WHAT?!”

“You heard me. You. Me. Knot.” Silence. A deep breath.

“You’re not my type.” You clutched your chest dramatically.

“Oh no. My ego. Shattered. A divine creature with pointy ears just broke my heart.” You flopped back with a theatrical sigh.

He glanced at you sideways—and in his eyes, a flicker. A crack in the armor.

She’s not my type. But when she talks like that… when she looks at me like that… why does it feel like I’m already hers?

He moved closer. Slowly. Positioned himself over you, arms bracing his weight. His knees on either side of your hips. His eyes locked on yours.

“You want to be tied up?”

“Only if you do it.”

His hands settled on your waist.

“You’re… soft,” he whispered.

“Wanna touch more?”

“…Yeah.”

He only realized he’d said it out loud after the words slipped. He leaned down. Nuzzled into your neck. A slow inhale. A gentle lick. His hips pressed to yours.

“You smell like peaches. And… danger.”

You laughed softly. “And you smell like: I’m losing control but pretending I’m fine.”

Hee buried his face in your neck, his hair tickling your skin.

If you tease me one more time… I’m not responsible for what happens.

It had been almost two months since classes started.

Two months of sharing a room with Heeseung — the moodiest, messiest, and unintentionally sexy deer hybrid on campus.

Two beds. One fate.

The second bed had arrived after a week.

You’d argued, like literal children, over which one was “your” bed.

You insisted on keeping the one you’d shared during the first nights.

Heeseung had growled through clenched teeth (a ridiculous sound for a half-deer, honestly), and ended up dragging himself to the new bed, shooting you a dark glare as he curled up under the covers.

“You’re insane. Sleep over there. Don’t invade my side tonight.”

And yet… he slept.

You didn’t, six nights out of seven, you waited until his breathing slowed.

Then you’d sneak into his bed, cold legs sliding under his. Curling up and in his sleep… he’d always pull you close.

Of course, mornings came with consequences.

“This is a full-on violation of personal space,” he’d grumble, trying to peel your arm off him.

“Do you think I’m your personal heating pad just because I’m half-cervid?!” And while you got up with a smug little smile, he’d add, grumpily:

“You claim to be independent. Pretend to be a femme fatale. But at night, you cling like some overly affectionate leech.”

You’d laugh. Always. You loved teasing him. All day long: you tickled him with your pencil during study sessions, hid his beloved emo rings, and stole his oversized hoodies just to force him to stay in a t-shirt while you blatantly stared at those golden abs that never got to touch you.

Why not? Why didn’t he touch you? He’d said you weren’t his type.

That phrase had lodged itself in your brain like a pushpin.

But you knew you were the right type for anyone with a pulse.

Even for an emo deer-boy who gnawed on his hoodie strings and acted too cool for spicy books.

So that night, you had a plan. If Hee wouldn’t look at you the way you deserved, then you’d make sure he had no choice but to look.

You’d been in the bathroom for over an hour. Perfume. Light makeup.

That tiny black skirt barely brushing your thighs, a white camisole with a little bow — sweet enough, but just suggestive enough. A cropped leather jacket that framed your shoulders.

Shiny black boots. Hair long. Perfect.

When you opened the door, Hee was sitting at the desk. A muscle anatomy textbook was open in front of him. Glasses on. Ears drooped. Tail still. But as soon as the scent of cherries and amber filled the air, he froze.

His nose twitched. Nostrils flared. A subtle shiver ran down his spine.

God. That perfume. The one she wears when… she wants attention. And I… I’m a damn fool because I love it.

When he turned around, he saw you. Admiring yourself in the mirror by the door, adjusting the hem of your skirt. You were a vision. Sensual, free, in complete control. You caught his gaze for a second. Eyes locked. That wicked little smile.

“Well? Do I look good?”

Hee blinked. Mumbled something.

“Hmm? Didn’t hear you, Hee.” He dropped his eyes.

“I said… You look like a fanfiction protagonist. The kind who always ends up heartbroken.”

You laughed — delightfully bold.

“Oh, really? And here I was, heading out on a date.”

He stiffened. Slowly turned from his chair. His tail—motionless a second ago — started wagging. Gently. Then harder. You bit your lip. Perfect.

“With whom?”

His voice was flat. Too flat.

“A guy from the swim team.”

Heeseung scoffed and turned back to his book.

“Wow. How original. One of those puffed-up pecs, zero-braincell types.”

A pause. Then: “Have fun.”

“Oh, I will.” You stepped toward the door. “And don’t wait up. I might not come back tonight.”

Silence. Then, a sharp grunt. Low. Animal. Frustrated. As the door clicked shut behind you, Hee slammed the book closed, ran a hand down his face, and muttered through clenched teeth:

“Stupid… tease… with that tiny little skirt… if anyone puts their hands on her, I swear I’ll—” His tail was still wagging—a chaotic, jealous, panicked mess.

She’s not my type… so why do I dream of her every night? Why do I reach for her when she’s not there? Why do I miss her scent before she’s even gone?

Heeseung was still awake.

He was “studying,” at least on paper.

In reality, he’d spent the past two hours chewing on his hoodie string, those oversized glasses slipping down his nose, sweatshirt sleeves pulled over his hands, killing evil creatures online with Jake and Jungwon.

The only things filling the room were curses and the occasional burst of laughter and, every now and then, those too-long silences, when Hee would stare blankly into space, fingers resting on the controller, your scent still burned into his brain.

Cherry. And amber. Damn it.

Where the hell did you think you were going, dressed like that?

When you’d said “I might not come back tonight,” he’d laughed.

A little.

Faked it.

Now it was 1:30 a.m. and you still weren’t back. He’d cracked. Looked you up on Instagram. Just one story. A mediocre dish, a corner of the Han River, and then… You. Sitting, eyes downcast. Too beautiful. Too close to that idiot with the damp hair, trying to look sporty.

Did he touch her? Put a hand on her thigh? Try to kiss her?

He bit his cheek. Hard enough to taste blood.

Then — finally — the door opened and that scent came back.

Sweet. Intoxicating.

You.

He pretended not to notice. Kept laughing with Jake. Scoffed a half-hearted, “Come on, just hit him in the head, Jungwon,” even though he wasn’t even looking at the screen.

You saw him instantly. Legs crossed on the swivel chair, oversized hoodie, giant headphones, half-eaten ramen by the keyboard. Eyes sparkling, like nothing was wrong.

Pfft. Still awake. And then he lectures me, huh.

You walked over, arms crossed. Tired smile, sharp gaze.

“Not in bed yet?” you asked, tilting your head.

He didn’t answer.

Without warning, you pulled off his headphones — way too big for his deer-like head. Hee flinched, looked at you… and in those eyes was that mix of anxiety, relief, irritation — and something much deeper.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

You stared back. One brow raised.

Arms crossed, standing just inches from him.

“Does this look like the time to still be livestreaming while your brain cells evaporate? You know what’ll happen if you sleep through anatomy again tomorrow? More notes on your record. And I won’t let you copy mine.”

Jake and Jungwon chuckled through the headphones.

Hee mumbled something, but he wasn’t really listening to you.

He leaned in a little.

Too close. Too quiet. Then, barely brushing your ear:

“You stink.” You whipped your head toward him, face close, eyebrow raised, voice like a blade:

“Excuse me? Want to say that again?”

He smiled. That classic fake-innocent smile, the faint dimple, eyes lowering to hide how intense they were. He brought a hand to his nose. Inhaled. Slowly.

“You smell like something that isn’t you.”

A sudden, razor-sharp silence. Jake and Jungwon went quiet a click, like someone turned the emotional volume of the room all the way down.

Heeseung turned fully toward you, eyes glistening. Dark.

“Did he touch you?”

Your eyes widened. Disbelief.

“Sorry, what?”

“That swimmer guy.” His voice was commanding, but cracked with insecurity. “Did he touch you?” You didn’t answer. You just looked at him. Caught between confusion and something deeper.

And then he stood. Slowly. Not all the way, but just enough to seem taller, heavier, more… predatory. He leaned in slightly and in a low, guttural voice, almost a growl:

“Go change. Now.”

“…Excuse me?”

“I don’t want to smell that anymore. Not on you. Not in this room. Not in that bed. Got it?”

For the first time, you felt small.

Not weak — but diminished. Dwarfed by something bigger. Raw tension, feral and unfiltered. That tail that wasn’t wagging anymore. Dilated pupils. Tight jaw.

You swallowed. Slowly. Then turned, a sly smirk curling your lips.

“Mmh. What’s wrong, Hee? I’m not your type… but my scent only bothers you when it’s mixed with someone else’s?”

He bit his lip but said nothing because yeah — he’d just marked you.

With words.

Without even realizing it.

Or maybe, finally… on purpose.

He had won.

You admitted it with a dramatic sigh as you tossed your clothes into the washing machine and slipped into your pajamas.

The light tank top — the one that clung just enough to your chest.

The tiny shorts — barely there and then… his wrinkled grey shirt, still holding the scent of his pillow and the softness of too many nights spent sleeping too close.

If he’d won… why did it still feel like you were holding all the cards?

When you stepped out, bare feet on the wooden floor, the room was half-dark, lit only by the glow of the monitor. Hee was still turned toward the screen, headphones hanging around his neck, eyes dark and unfocused.

You approached. Gently rotated his chair and when he saw you — wearing his shirt, your scent beneath his, your bare legs, your gaze calm but daring...He shook his head.

Serious. Almost angry his voice low and rough: “Go. To. Bed.”

You smiled. Fearless and started walking… toward his bed. Slow, theatrical steps he didn’t react right away but as soon as your knee touched the sheets, he stopped you. His hand wrapped around your arm — instinctively.

“Your bed.” His voice was tenser now. Controlled. But fragile.

You giggled. His touch was light, but it burned on your skin.

“Oh, come on, Hee…” you whispered, a teasing smile on your lips.

You turned to face him, eyes wide and gleaming.

“You know I haven’t undressed for another guy in months, right?”

He clenched his jaw.

Let you go. But stayed there, standing, like you were some kind of threat.

“I… still feel everything.”

The words came out barely audible — a confession laced with frustration and truth.You raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong, Bambi?” you teased. “Jealous?” That one word: Jealous.

It was enough, Heeseung took a step toward you then another. Now he was too close, towering over you — tall, broad-shouldered, ears alert, tail still. He leaned down, his face inches from yours.

“Stop acting like a brat,” he murmured. The tone was sharp but his eyes… were chaos. You looked up at him. rose to your tiptoes.

Your hands slid under the hem of his hoodie.

“Then stop me.”

And before he could even process it, you pulled him toward you and kissed him. At first, it was just a touch. Your lips on his — soft, tentative a game but then…You felt him freeze.

Then give in.

His hands found your waist, his mouth trembled for a second then, slowly, moved with yours. His lips were soft, but uncertain you gave his lower lip a gentle nibble and he let out a low, muffled sound — almost a growl.

Then finally…His tongue he kissed you for real a deep, slow, consuming kiss. His hands slid just beneath the shirt — his shirt — and you could feel it: he was there.

Fully. Completely. Lost. You played with each other. You pulled him even closer. He pinned you against the edge of the bed, tongues exploring, testing, tangling like they never wanted to let go and then…He pulled away.

Stayed there. Breathing hard. Lips damp. Eyes dark as midnight.

“Don’t sleep with me,” he said, quietly.

You looked at him. Still breathless. Hands trembling.

“Heeseung…”

“Don’t sleep with me tonight.”

He said it, looking straight into your eyes, like an open wound he didn’t know how to hide.

Then, he turned away, switched off the light and you were left there.

Heart pounding.

Wearing his shirt.

And waiting for all the answers… that still wouldn’t come.

You were sitting on a blanket under a wooden gazebo on campus.

A cup of herbal tea in your hand, legs crossed, and the cool afternoon air carrying the scent of freshly cut grass.

T/l had her hair pinned up messily, a strawberry lollipop in her mouth, an oversized sweater that showed off her bare shoulders, a white skirt, and the faint scent of Sunghoon that somehow you could almost smell too.

“So you’re telling me… he hasn’t looked at her in a week?” she asked with a laugh.

You nodded, frustrated. “Nada. Not even a single insult about the human race or a passive-aggressive jab. He’s ice cold.”

T/l licked her lollipop. “Classic. He kissed you, so now he’s panicking.”

“But why? He likes me, it’s obvious. And anyway… it was a kiss, not a lifetime contract.”

She looked at you over the rim of her cup. Then lowered her voice:

“For a hybrid, it can be.”

Your eyebrow rose. You leaned in a little. “Wait. Explain. What’s this imprinting thing?”

T/l gave a softer smile. “Imprinting is… how to put it… the moment a hybrid’s body recognizes someone as theirs. Usually it happens between hybrids, because there’s instinctive compatibility. But sometimes… rarely, it happens with humans too.”

“And if it happens with a human?”

“It’s a mess. But also beautiful. Sunghoon imprinted on me.”

She showed you her wrist: a faint mark, like a pink shadow. “It’s like their body saying: this one is mine, I can’t ignore her anymore. And when it happens, often… comes the knotting.”

You swallowed slowly. “Okay. T/l. Now you have to explain this knotting thing properly.”

She laughed, then blushed a little. “I thought you’d heard about it from someone…”

“Never. Go all in. No mercy.”

She bit her candy and got comfortable, lowering her voice.

“Knotting is… a biological mechanism some hybrids have, especially those with stronger instincts. During sex, if the emotional bond is strong… and the instinct takes over… the hybrid’s penis can swell at the base, forming a knot. It’s meant to mark their partner. And to literally hold her together with him. You can’t separate for minutes. Sometimes for half an hour.”

Your legs involuntarily stuck together.

“You and Hoon…?”

She nodded, a bit embarrassed but smiling. “More than once. When it happens… it’s not like normal sex. It’s rougher. More intense. You hear the sounds, feel the vibrations in your chest, the need to stay inside even after it’s all over. It’s… like their bodies are repeating mine, mine, mine.”

You touched your lips, both uneasy and fascinated.

“Does it hurt?”

“The first time can sting a bit. But the body adapts in a weird way. Hybrids secrete a kind of natural lubricant during knotting. It’s a mix of pleasure and dizziness. You feel invaded. But you never want it to stop. Ever.”

“And them?”

“For them it’s a need. When they imprint… and knot… it’s like a drug. If you deny it, they suffer. But if you give in… they get addicted.”

“Wow.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. The thought of Heeseung in that situation hit you like a punch in the stomach.

“So if he knots me… I’m his.”

T/l looked at you seriously. “Yeah. Not just in bed. In your heart, too. You couldn’t touch anyone else. Not even he could. It would be like betraying each other physically. It’s primitive, but… it’s beautiful, if you trust him.”

Then she smiled again.

“Anyway… practical advice.”

“Tell me everything.”

“If you don’t want to end up with a mini-deer to take care of in nine months… take the anti-hybrid pill.”

You burst out laughing. “That’s a real thing?!”

“Oh yes. And trust me, it works. Hoon’s obsessed with knotting every chance he gets. I’m basically his human sedative.”

“Holy hell…” you sighed.

She laughed, then grabbed your hand.

“But if it scares you… don’t do it. Knotting isn’t a joke. If Heeseung did it, it’d be instinct. But also because he’s already decided you’re his.”

You stayed quiet for a moment.

Then whispered:

“I think I want it. But… I’m scared.”

T/l winked at you. “Then you’re already in trouble, sister.”

The rain drummed against the windows like nervous fingers. The thunder sounded like the beating of a heart too strong to stay in its place. You had just dried your hair and put on that gray hoodie of Heeseung’s—the one that smelled exactly like him: cherries, musk, skin, and something rough, primal.

When you came out of the bathroom, you found him there: hunched over the desk, pencil strokes sharp and restless. He was still studying muscles—a recent obsession—and had his glasses slid down his nose, hair falling to partly cover his speckled ears.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Mhm. Hey,” he mumbled without turning around.

You bit your lip. There was a whole world you wanted to tell him, but you held back. It wasn’t the night for teasing. Or maybe it was, but not the way you usually did.

You settled on your bed, legs tucked under you, looking for something to watch, but your eyes kept drifting back to him every couple of minutes. To his broad back, the way his shoulder blades moved under his black hoodie, as if they held some restrained anger.

Then, without warning, you heard a “Fuck.”

Not too loud, but loaded.

You watched him get up, the chair scraping the floor. He went to the bathroom, washed his face—you could hear it—and came back. When he stepped out, his eyes fell on you. Or rather, on that hoodie.

“You’re officially stealing my entire wardrobe, huh?” he commented sarcastically, rubbing his neck.

You smiled faintly. “I like your style. And I love your scent… you stubborn hybrid.”

Heeseung grimaced but said nothing. He took a few steps, as if to head to his own bed, but stopped. That “fuck” still hovered on his lips, like he was battling something inside.

Then he turned and came to you.

He threw himself onto your bed.

Yours.

His hands gripped your thighs with confidence, spreading them with a single, natural, firm motion. He placed one of your legs on each side of his body, then let himself fall, his head resting on your belly, warm and heavy, as if it were his home. He set his laptop on your lower abdomen and opened Netflix.

You didn’t breathe for a few seconds. Your thighs were open, his face between your belly button and your chest, and his body stretched between your legs like it was the most natural thing in the world. He said nothing. But his tail—that damned tail—tapped softly, happily.

Like a moth, your hand moved. You touched his hair. Smooth, dark. Then his speckled ears, soft, trembling under your touch. You felt him relax beneath your fingers.

“Keep going,” he murmured, his voice muffled in his chest.

“You think I’m a mobile massage parlor now?” you teased him with a sweet, almost lullaby tone.

He laughed. A light, thin, human laugh. Then he moved up even closer, his face near your heart. One hand scratching the nape of his neck, the other caressing his cheek.

His skin was warm. Too warm.

For a moment, you thought he had fallen asleep, but his tail moved, alive, and his chest trembled when he spoke.

“I’m scared.”

Your hand froze. “Of what?” you asked softly.

A heartbeat of silence.

“Of myself. Of my hybrid side. Of you.”

Your eyes widened. “Of me?”

“Of your scent. It lingers on me. Burns my chest. And every night… every damn night… I just want to…” he stopped, clenching his jaw.

You brushed his ear with your nose, whispering: “Want to what, Hee?”

He lifted his face, his doe-like eyes dark and shiny. “I want to forget that you’re not one of us. That you’re human. That if I knot you… I’ll lose you. Or ruin you.”

Thunder exploded outside. But inside the room, the only things that echoed were your breath and his.

And you, with your head spinning and your belly warm, answered him with nothing more than a soft kiss on the forehead.

Heeseung looked confused. Sitting between your legs, his chest rising and falling too fast, his ears trembling forward, tense, and his tail moving frantically jerky behind him. He stared at you as if you were shining, as if he could not decide whether to adore you or run away. But then he took a step. Literal. He knelt between your hips and leaned over you, his nose touching your skin, and began to smell you. Plane. Hungry.

"Hee… What are you doing?" you whispered, with a smile. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, his face getting lost in your neck.

"I remember you. I hear you everywhere … on the neck, between the thighs, you are… you're so hot…" He kissed you softly under the ear, then further down, along the collarbone.

"Do you have any idea how crazy you are driving me? I hear everything. Even your smell changes when you get excited… " His hands rested trembling on your thighs, but it was his body that betrayed him: the veins under the skin, the nails little sharper, the muscles tense under that puppy shyness.

You shoved your fingers through his hair, and his ears lowered slowly, trembling. "You have no idea, right?" murmur. "Than you are when you're good … but also when you seem to be on the verge of losing control."

He stiffened. He looked at you with those dark, shiny eyes. "I never… knotted. Never made love like that. But with you, I hear things I don't understand. I want… I want to be inside you. But not only that. I want to let myself in, brand you with my perfume. Make you mine."

The tone was deeper. Crude. Wild. You gasped. He was talking to you in that rough voice that came from an instinct rather than a technique. You grabbed his sweatshirt and lifted it a little, letting a glimpse of the pale skin of his belly. "And what are you waiting for?" you murmur.

"Make me yours. Brand me. Fill me up, Hee. I want to be your first … and your favorite." He almost moaned, his tail wagged. He made you lie down with firm pressure on your belly, then he put himself on top of you, one knee sticking between your already hot legs. His sweatshirt still covered you, but you felt his erection press against you. His hands trembled, but he managed to slip under the fabric and meet your bare breasts. His fingers were cold, a contrast that made you wince.

"Fuck … even without a bra… these are all for me?" he whispered, his voice cracked. Then he stared into your eyes, more authoritarian. "Raise your arms. And no whims." You obeyed, giggling. "But how much you like to command, Hee…"

"Shut up." He took off your sweatshirt, sniffed it before throwing it away. "I want to hear from you tomorrow. You and your smell … mix with mine. No one else can touch you. Never."

Then he ducked. The tongue settled on your breast, the muzzle rubbed like a puppy seeking comfort and desire simultaneously. He began to suck you, lick you, play with his nipples with a rough tongue and delicate teeth, alternating worship and light bites. You grabbed him by the ears — soft, vibrating- and pulled them slowly, making him emit a downward, almost a gentle growl. "Still…" whisper. "Show me how much you want me, Hee."

Heeseung kept kissing your breasts with increasing hunger. He licked, sucked, nibbled at your turgid nipples as if they were nectar for him, while his hands caressed your hips with almost desperate impatience. His breathing became more labored, and every now and then he let out a choked groan, a downward, throaty sound — an animal sound, vibrating directly from his ribs. You instinctively rubbed against his knee, seeking clutch, and that gesture made him growl. Literally. A low, rough, deep sound that made his chest vibrate against yours.

"Little doe in heat…" he hissed, and his eyes became darker, shinier. "Do you know how cheeky you are? I don't know if it turns me on or if I want to put you in your place." "Why not both?" you giggled, and looked at him from below up, his eyes defiant. "It's so good to see you lose control…"

He bit his lip, his ears lowered with desire, his tail waving furiously behind him. His vehement, veinous hands slipped on your sides and squeezed you hard, as if to punish you. Then he ducked down, pulled down your pajama pants, and made a theatrical pout. "Panties already wet?" he laughed softly.

"Then, while pretending to look at the PC… were you thinking of me? Huh? Maybe already ready for my knot…" "Hee!" you admonished him, but the tone trembled, too excited to be credible. "Shut up…" he whispered, and with a firm gesture, he pulled off your panties, holding them for a moment between his fingers before throwing them aside. Then he lowered his face between your thighs. Its odoriferous glands, hidden behind your neck and near your temples-activated as soon as you smell your natural scent. That pure, excited smell of yours drove him crazy. A low sound escaped him, like a starving verse. His hands opened your legs, and he dived on you with his tongue as if he had found the center of his world.

"Mmmh… You're sweet…" he muttered between licks. "I want you… all…" His tongue became more precise, sharper. He sucked your clit hard, with rhythm. You screamed, arching your back as his hair tickled your belly and inner thighs, while her hot breath drove you as crazy as her lips.

"Hee! Oh God, yes… more! Want… I want more!" He barely lifted, his lips moist, his ears flickering. "You want everything? You want me to get bored?" He looked at you with that scary, sweet intensity. "Then get ready. You have to take my fingers. If you can… then maybe you can take my knot too. And become mine. Mine." You nodded, breathless, and spread your legs even more. When you felt his first finger come in, hot and thick, you moaned loudly. He looked at you as if you were revealing a secret, his mouth ajar, while his finger explored you slowly, and then with more pace.

"Feel how tight you are…" he whispered in a low, dark tone. "God, you are perfect. So wet for me…" He added a second finger and then began to pump into you with deep and decisive movements. You clung to the sheet, screaming his name as the pleasure overwhelmed you. And he degraded you with animalistic sweetness, kissing you between the legs and whispering to you: "Be good… I want to see you all shake before I give you everything. I want to hear you squeeze me, suck me inside you. Are you ready for me, baby?"

Without saying anything, he pushed a third finger into you. The enlargement was intense, his hot and thick fingers filled you with firm pressure that made you moan loudly. Your body instinctively arched, your thighs trembling under the growing pleasure. " I'm coming!" you gasped, clutching the sheet between your fingers. He giggled, lowering his face between your legs again. "Let me see. I want to watch you come for me. I want to feel your essence on my tongue…"

With his tongue, he began to lick you greedily, then gently bit your clitoris, making you wince. You grabbed his hair, pulling it, but he did not stop. He kept sucking on you, pushing his fingers inside you, until your body stretched all over and you moaned loudly, trembling as you came between his lips.

He did not stop even then. He licked you as if he wanted to dry you up, savor you to the last drop, his nose sunk against you, his ears trembling with pleasure. When he finally retracted, he slid his fingers out of your cunt and looked at them, wet, shiny.

He slowly brought them to your mouth, tasting you with a deep sigh. "God … you are my favorite flavor." You stared at him with wide eyes, still panting, while he picked up a handkerchief, and you both cleaned up with small, thoughtful gestures. Then, with almost tender attention, he put his pajama pants back on you, his fingers touching your skin with respect, and you threw a questioning, somewhat spoiled look at him.

"Not tonight …" he muttered, his voice broken by a thousand emotions. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to get to know you better. Inside, outside. Every part." "Hee … you look like a good boy now," you teased him sweetly, with a smile. He just laughed and hugged you from behind. He wrapped you with strong arms and then took off his sweatshirt, letting you feel the heat of his naked body against your back. His chest was solid, the warm breath caressing the nape of your neck. A shudder passed through you.

"I want you. Always, " he whispered. "But if I annoy you… I won't be able to stop anymore. I'm not a good guy. I'm just a guy who wants to protect you from himself." Then he began to move slowly against you. His pelvis rubbed your butt in a slow, painful petting. His hands gripped your hips with force, holding you still as his breathing became heavier, almost animalistic.

"Do you feel it?" he murmured in your ear, pressing his groin against you. Its member, hard and pulsating, pressed against your thin pants. "This is my control. But it's ending. And when that happens, you'll be mine." You giggled, barely turning your face to brush his cheek with your lips. "Then train yourself to lose it, Hee. Because I want you to take… all of me." His groan was smothered against your shoulder, and for a moment he trembled. The tail wagged loudly behind him, as he continued to move against you with maddening slowness.

It had been a few weeks since you had discovered each other. Since you had stopped holding back your desire. Now, every evening ended with the two of you wrapped up in the same comforter, with Hee curling up against your back, his tail occasionally brushing your thigh as he slept. Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night and hold you tighter, whispering things half-asleep. And you would smile, even in your sleep.

One evening, with soft light filling your room and a fine rain tapping against the windows, he looked at you with a different kind of attention. Quiet. Then, as if facing a small fear of his own, he stood up and transformed.

His figure became leaner, muscles more elongated, his skin dappled with pale spots, ears larger, eyes even deeper and sweeter. And that tail... soft, alive, trembling.

"You're... beautiful," you whispered. "You look like something out of a poem. Something that shouldn't even exist. And yet here you are. With me."

Hee lowered his ears a little, as if shy. "I've never shown this to anyone like this... not for this long. I was always afraid of looking too different."

"But you are different… and that’s what makes you special," you replied, moving closer to caress his cheek, tracing the pattern of his spots with a finger. "And besides... I’m different too. Maybe too outspoken sometimes. Spoiled. But..."

You sat down next to him, legs crossed, eyes lowered. "Sometimes I act that way because... I didn’t get much love. Not at home, not anywhere. It’s easier to be loud than to let myself be seen as fragile."

He didn’t answer right away. He took your hand in his, fingers knotted and full of rings you had come to know well, and placed it over his chest.

"I, on the other hand, received a lot of love. A big, loud, affectionate family. But also full of expectations. They wanted me to stay an animal more often. They wanted me... wilder. But I wanted to try living like humans. I wanted to know what it’s like to have friends, to play, to study, to laugh."

He paused, then smiled. "And I’m glad I did. Because that’s how I met Jake, Hoon, Jay, Jungwon, Sunoo, Ni-Ki… and you."

Your throat tightened, but in a good way. You looked at him tenderly.

"Do you remember our first date?" you asked, breaking the emotion with a sly little smile.

He laughed, his ears twitching slightly. "The ramen by the Han River? And you burning your tongue on the first bite?"

"And you ordering extra spicy and then crying silently for five minutes!" you shot back, laughing.

"I wasn’t crying… they were controlled tears!" he said in a mock-serious tone, but then he laughed too.

"And then you taught me to play basketball..." you continued, raising an eyebrow. "If you can call it ‘teaching’ to throw a ball at the hoop while I clung to your arm laughing like a maniac."

"I knew you were a lost cause," he murmured, leaning in to brush your lips with a tender kiss. "But you were so happy that... I wanted to teach you just to see you laugh."

He held you tightly in his arms. You stayed there, in the silence of the moment, with the sound of rain and the beating of your hearts.

"You’re good for me, Hee," you whispered. "You make me feel like, for the first time… I’m truly seen."

"And you... make me feel free to be who I am. Whether that’s an awkward deer... or a boy who wants you so much, he’s afraid he won’t know how to stop."

You were there, in front of the mirror, the warm light of the room caressing your skin. A black skirt that hugged your hips, a white top that highlighted your curves, your usual brown leather jacket draped over your shoulders, and boots that softly clicked on the floor with every step. You snapped a few photos with your phone, partly for fun, partly to tease him.

Behind you, Hee was sitting on the bed. An oversized black hoodie with some unreadable writing, loose jeans hanging on his hips in that way only he could pull off, messy hair, and shiny rings on his fingers. He looked up at you with those long, glossy eyes—like a lovestruck and frustrated fawn.

“Are you… taking pictures of yourself for me?” he asked, half ironic, half serious. “I’m documenting how irresistible I am,” you replied, winking at him. “Because tonight, Hee, we’re going to our first university party. And you’re coming with me.”

He got up slowly, letting out a half-exasperated sigh. He went to his chair, grabbed a black coat with some emo details, and twisted it between his hands. “You know I’m embarrassed… there will be other hybrids. And humans. Who will be looking at you.”

“It’s just a party,” you murmured, fixing your hair. “And besides… you’ll be there. There’s nothing to look at that isn’t already yours.” That’s when he came closer to you. His hands slid behind you, slipping under your skirt, pressing firmly on your buttocks. He pulled you against him, his pelvis already hard, warm, nervous.

“I’d have much more fun… if we stayed home,” he whispered against your neck, his voice hoarse. “Just you and me. No other eyes on you.” You could feel him vibrating. His ears trembled slightly, his tail flicking behind. He was tense, sweet and sharp pheromones starting to wrap around you like an invisible veil.

“You’re so territorial, Hee…” you whispered, barely turning your head to look at him. “And you haven’t even knotted me yet.” He growled softly, just a little, against your skin. “Not yet. But I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Then he pushed you against the wall next to the mirror. His hands grabbed you firmly, and he kissed you. A long, warm, open, hungry kiss. His tongue searching for yours, his teeth gently nibbling your lip with an animalistic delicacy.

“Mmh… I want more attention, Hee. I want tongue. I want those kisses of yours that make me forget where I am,” you whispered between breaths, with a bold tone. “Bold,” he muttered, burying his face in your neck. He licked you gently, then bit you right at the most sensitive spot, marking you with firm pressure. He couldn’t mark you with his scent from the knot… yet, but he still wanted everyone to know. You almost laughed, excited. “Are you afraid someone else will ask me before you do?” “I’m just… protecting what’s mine.”

You looked at him with a smirk. “Then do it well. Put me in my place, if you can.” He stared at you with those eyes that seemed darker, almost feral, but the blush on his cheeks betrayed him. He wasn’t ready to push you all the way yet, but he wanted it with all his being. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, stroking your inner thigh. “When I knot you… it won’t be for fun. It will be to keep you mine. Forever.”

The music pulsed through the walls of the house, a sensual electronic mix that made the floor vibrate. The strobe lights reflected off the glasses and the slightly tipsy smiles of the students. You, stunning in your little skirt and white top that accentuated your curves, were dancing with Hoon’s girlfriend, who was already swaying lightly with you, laughing and sipping from a plastic cup.

On the opposite side of the room, Hee stood with his hands in his pockets, his dark hoodie a bit too warm for the crowded space, his deer ears trembling faintly.

Sunghoon watched him from above the rim of his glass, then raised an eyebrow. 'Brother… if you keep looking at her that way, you’ll tie her up with your gaze.'

Hee didn’t laugh. “It’s not funny.”

'Oh, but it is.' Sunghoon patted his shoulder. 'Look at my girl. Bored with me, but knotted. No idiot can try anything. But you…' He turned to stare at the dance floor. 'You left the door wide open. It’s obvious some other curious male wants to come in.'

Hee growled softly but said nothing.

Meanwhile, a boy approached you. Tall, with feline eyes—a hybrid, probably wolf or tiger. His scent was spicy, different from Hee’s sweet and woody perfume.

-Are you new around here?- he asked, coming close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath.

You smiled politely. “No, just not very interested in parties.”

-Well, then it’s lucky you’re here tonight. You know… you’re incredibly beautiful. You have a special energy. I can’t take my eyes off you.- He leaned in, his mouth a breath away from your ear. -I’d like to find out if beneath that good-girl act there’s someone who knows how to have fun… even off the dance floor.-

You were about to reply with a sharp comment when you felt something familiar: a firm hand pressing on your lower back, cold with rings. A second later, your body was yanked back against a warm, tense chest.

Heeseung.

His scent enveloped you immediately—sweet, musky, intense, with an animal undertone that made your head spin. His breath was deep, tense.

“She’s mine,” he said quietly, without even looking at the other boy. His eyes were only for you. The other hybrid took a half-step back, hands raised.

-Hey… okay. Chill, bro.- He disappeared right after.

You turned, still with your hands on Hee’s chest. “Hey,” you gently scolded. “What’s all this?”

“Stop acting like a brat.” His ears twitched slightly, and his tail flicked.

“Brat? I was just dancing. He was the one flirting with me.”

“And the only guy allowed to flirt with you… is me.”

You looked him straight in the eyes. “But you don’t know how to flirt with me, Hee.”

He frowned. “What?”

“You don’t know how to tease me. You don’t know how to play. You’re just a jealous deer.”

His face stiffened, then he turned abruptly. “Then watch and learn.”

He took a step toward a group of girls, but you didn’t give him even a second. You grabbed his wrist and pulled him back hard. Then you kissed him.

It wasn’t a sweet kiss. It was yours. Tongue, teeth, hands in hair. His breath caught against your mouth, and you heard him moan softly, trembling under your fingers.

His pheromones exploded like an invisible wave, mixing with yours. Some people turned to look. Sunghoon, from afar, raised his hands as if to say “finally.”

When you broke apart, your eyes sought his, your forehead against his.

“I kissed you in front of everyone,” you whispered. “That means I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

Hee looked shaken, his mouth reddened, ears lowered. He looked at you as if he couldn’t believe he had you.

Then you added, in a softer voice against his ear: “And I want to be knotted. By you.”

It was like flipping a switch. The low, animalistic growl that came from his chest made your legs tremble. His fingers squeezed your hips as his breathing became more uneven.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“I want to go home too,” you replied.

He grabbed your wrist urgently, never taking his eyes off you. And without another word, you left the party behind, amid glances and whispers.

When you returned home, the door hadn’t even closed behind you.

Hee gently but firmly pushed you against the wall. His hands, ringed and strong, grabbed your hips as if he needed to make sure you were real, that you were there—his. His breath was warm, restless, his forehead pressed against yours.

“It’s your fault,” he growled in a low, rough tone that almost vibrated in his throat. His deer ears trembled slightly, and his tail flicked nervously behind him. His pheromones were everywhere, enveloping, thick in the air. “My aura... my hybrid part... is exploding. And there you are, all perfect, with your little red panties, like a cheeky brat...”

You lightly pulled his hair, lifting your chin, eyes sparkling, voice cheeky. “Are you really sure that’s a problem?”

“Stop it...” he whispered, but it wasn’t a real warning. It was a plea.

His hand quickly slid under your skirt and stopped just beneath the waistband of your panties. He could feel how wet you were. His gaze darkened, deepened. He smiled crookedly, dangerously.

“So fragile down here, and so cheeky with your mouth...” he murmured.

He yanked your skirt off, ignoring your fake protests. When he saw the red lingerie set, his eyes widened and he whispered as if discovering a secret: “You wore this for me, didn’t you? You know red drives me crazy…”

He knelt before you, his nose just inches from your warm skin, and his face rested against the fabric of your panties. He took a deep, slow breath, like an animal that found its place. His scent glands pulsed against your bare thighs, and he trembled slightly.

“God, your scent... it destroys me. It’s only yours and mine now. No one else’s.”

With his teeth, he took the edge of your panties and slowly slid them down, with almost ferocious patience. He kissed your inner thigh, leaving small bites, occasionally murmuring something that sounded like half a prayer, half a threat.

He stroked you lightly with one finger, just on your clitoris, and you looked at him, moaning softly, grabbing your top and pulling it down yourself, revealing the matching bra.

“Good girl...” he whispered. “You’re all mine tonight. Actually, from now on.”

He picked you up in his arms, with a strength you’d never felt from him before, and carried you to the bed. He laid you down, his knees on either side of your thighs. His tongue made slow fiery circles on your body. When he reached your center, his fingers moved with confident patience.

“You’re so hot... so ready. And I...” He raised his gaze, his ears trembling wildly. “...I can’t stop anymore.”

“Hee...” you gasped. “Keep going...”

“You deserve it... every inch of my control you’re destroying.”

He penetrated you with two fingers, strong and slow, while licking you fiercely and attentively. Your hips moved on their own against him, and every time you moaned, he moaned with you.

His breath was warm, rough, and when he rose over you, finally shirtless, bringing your forehead to his, he whispered against your lips:

“I want you... I want you madly. I want to sink inside you. Tie you. Fill you. Make you mine in every way. Inside. Outside. Forever.”

You grabbed his hips, naked beneath him, looking at him with watery eyes and short breath. And you whispered:

“Then do it. Take me. Tie me. Make me yours.”

And that’s when Hee stopped holding back.

He moaned loudly, biting his lip, as his hybrid form fully manifested—trembling ears, wild tail, and a primal desire pushing him closer and closer to losing control.

You pulled down his pants, then his boxers, leaving him naked and hard, his erection taut and throbbing. You looked at him as if savoring the most anticipated feast of your life.

“Are you ready, Hee?” you whispered in a sweet but sharp tone. “Ready to get dirty for me? To lose control? Because I’m ready to take all of you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, visibly nervous but no longer awkward. It was as if he was standing at the edge of a cliff he wanted to jump off.

“This is the first time that… that I want to tie someone,” he said softly. “And the first time that… I feel like I can’t hold back. Did you take the anti-hybrid pill?”

You nodded, looking him straight in the eyes. “Yes. And I want you to do it. All of it.”

He trembled visibly. His gaze flickered between adoration and need. But he still didn’t move, as if he needed one last confirmation, or maybe… reassurance.

You brushed his side gently, then placed a light kiss on his swollen, warm, pulsing “grip.” “Everything will be fine, Hee. I want you just as you are. Wild, tender, dirty. Mine.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to lose control, with me. You don’t have to hold back.”

His body trembled with emotion, but his gaze was steady, intense. He moved closer to you, aligning his body with yours, and for a moment you stayed there, skin against skin, hearts beating like tribal drums.

“Then let me… lose myself in you.”

Your fingers wrapped around his hard, throbbing member, guiding it slowly toward your wet center. You dragged it just over your clitoris, rubbing it with slow, deliberate strokes. He moaned softly the moment he felt it, breath broken, ears trembling. The heat of your skin was burning him.

“Tease my lips… slowly…” you murmured, eyes fixed on his.

Hee obeyed, pushing only the mushroom tip between your vaginal lips, brushing against you, letting his pearly fluid mix with your already warm juices. Then he made small thrusts, brief but loaded with tension, as if every movement was a whispered prayer through clenched teeth.

“Ah… Hee…” you gasped, your hands rising to grab his chubby, sensitive ears. You tugged them gently.

He moaned but immediately warned you with a muffled growl: “Stop it, or I’ll show you how dangerous a deer can be.”

His voice was hoarse, dark, a thread of control about to snap. But you didn’t stop. You smiled mischievously, and it was that smile that made him lose balance.

With one fluid, hungry motion, he pushed fully inside you.

You screamed, pleasure crashing over you like a sudden warm wave. Your legs tightened around his hips, as if never wanting to let him go.

“Hee... you’re… all in…” you gasped, your head falling back.

You felt him swollen, hard, warm, already filling you with his pulsing excitement inside your pussy. It was so deep you could feel yourself trembling inside. He gasped with his forehead resting against your neck.

“You’re so tight…” he murmured, voice broken by ecstasy. “My beautiful girl... you’re all mine, right?”

You nodded, scratching the nape of his neck with your nails. “All yours. Move inside me. I want to feel every part of you.”

At first, he moved slowly, with short, shy thrusts, as if making sure you were okay.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, voice thin and tense.

“No… I want more,” you whispered, then louder: “Give me everything, Hee. Push hard. I want to come again. Tie me. Break me.”

Something in him ignited. His ears pricked up, tail whipped fast, sharp. His eyes darkened, and in an instant he was no longer the clumsy, shy deer. He was a hybrid—feromones and instinct, flesh and desire.

He grabbed your hips and started thrusting hard, pounding into you, hitting deep, deeper and deeper.

“Yes… yes… fuck, Hee, there…” you screamed, voice broken, strangled. “You’re driving me crazy… you’re filling me up, damn it, don’t stop…”

He moaned with every thrust, breath ragged, animalistic, as he leaned over you, hips smashing into yours with growing force.

“You’re so hot…” he growled, “so wet… I’m losing it… I want to fill you, tie myself inside you, want no one else to ever have you…”

And then—with a deeper thrust than the others—he hit your G-spot. You screamed his name, trembling, eyes wide open.

“Yes… there… Hee… there! I’m… I’m gonna—fuck, yes!”

“What’s this, my good girl feeling heat inside, hmm?” he whispered with an emo-boy smirk, voice thick, as he kept pounding you with slow but powerful strokes. “Can’t think anymore, huh? Did I melt your brain, baby?”

“Yes… yes, damn it… you melted me completely. Keep going. Never stop.”

The heat you felt inside wasn’t just desire: it was something primal. Alive. Pulsing. It was Hee’s body heat claiming you, inch by inch, as if he was writing his name inside you with every thrust.

“Do you feel it?” he murmured, his hoarse voice in your ear. “It’s my heat… my cock making you mine.”

And you felt it. You felt his member sliding deeper and deeper, as if it would never end. You felt your belly react, stretching slightly with every hit, every thrust that hit you full on. And then you felt it: the knot. That living, sensitive mass swelling slowly, at first like a gentle pressure, then increasingly invasive, visceral.

“Hee…” you gasped, breath broken. “I-it’s happening… I feel it… it’s swelling…”

“Shh… let it in,” he whispered with that fake bad boy tone, just cracked by a tremor of animal emotion. “Let me tie every part of you.”

His thrusts grew faster, deeper. His hips hammered you with growing force, and as he moved, he degraded you in that way only he could: sweet voice but loaded with lust, sharp as a thin blade.

“Look how you take it… so tight. A good girl, but with a pussy begging to be filled. What is it, do you like being so full?”

You stammered, heat rising to your throat. “It’s… too much… it’s hot, Hee, you’re… you’re stretching me… inside…”

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” he murmured, taking one of your legs and placing it on his shoulder. Deeper now, tighter.

“Let’s see if you really can be… my good girl,” he growled softly, “the one who takes it all, even the knot. All the way in.”

You felt his knot pulse more and more firmly, alive inside you. It was locking you, nailing you, binding you. And his cock kept filling you, slow but relentless, in a gesture that meant more possession than sex.

Then he took your hand in his and brought it to your belly. The skin tight. Warm. Vibrant.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered with a small smirk. “It’s right there inside. My knot. It’s binding you to me… and you want it, you want it bad.”

“Yes…” you almost shouted, breath broken by rising pleasure. “I want to come… I want to come with you inside… I want to come on your cock…”

He looked at you with dark, feverish eyes. And that crooked emo boy smile spread across his lips.

“Look how you’re trembling. You’re so beautiful when you lose control. So good when you let me fuck you.”

Then he lowered his free hand, and with his thumb he started torturing your clitoris, slow but firm circles, wet with your own juices. His hip thrusts grew rougher, hungrier, while the knot swelled more and more.

“Come for me, damn it. I want to feel you gush on my cock. Fill me, baby. Dirty the sheets for me.”

It was too much. You melted against him with a scream that almost emptied your lungs. Your juices flowed hot and liquid around his cock trapped inside you, and you felt every contraction, every spasm, as his knot pulsed, swollen inside your belly. He was binding you, marking you, loving you in the most animal and true way.

Hee trembled, panting over you, then looked at you as if he couldn’t believe what he was experiencing.

“You’re amazing… so full…” he murmured, kissing you fiercely. “Your belly is swelling thanks to me. You’re mine.”

His thrusts, initially chaotic, grew slower… but so deep they tore a broken moan from you. It was as if Hee was learning your body step by step, discovering where to press, how to sink in to make you truly tremble.

“It’s too much…” you gasped, clutching him, “…but I want to feel full of you.”

He lowered his gaze, dark eyes framed by long lashes, and smiled with that typical fake-innocent look. Then he shook his head, scattering your thoughts with a few softly whispered words:

“So good when you beg. You’re my dirty girl, the one who knows what she wants… and now she wants me.”

He cupped your face in his hands, looking at you with a tenderness that only fueled your excitement more. But behind that sweetness, there was a wild desire breaking every dam. He leaned toward you, voice hoarse:

“You don’t know how much I dreamed of seeing you like this. Open for me, ready to take everything… even my wildest side.”

His thrusts grew hungrier, breath heavier. And when he slid one of your legs over his shoulder, you felt completely exposed, vulnerable and powerful at the same time. He moaned softly, almost choking on his words:

“I want you… all of you. I can’t hold back anymore.”

Then, with a decisive movement, he pushed all the way in. A low moan escaped his lips as his body trembled and the knot locked inside you, filling you completely. You moaned, your head thrown back, while a warm wave coursed through your entire belly.

It was as if he was writing his name inside you.

Hee bent over you, his sweaty forehead brushing yours, and whispered, voice breaking:

“You’re… incredible. So tight… so mine. I never want to let you go.”

Your body trembled, skin on fire, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. You clung to him, to his shoulders, to his voice.

“Hee… you’re tying me to you… I can feel it… inside.”

“You are,” he whispered, kissing you through your gasps of pleasure. “And you couldn’t be more beautiful.”

He stayed there, still inside you, while the knot pulsed slowly, marking every beat of his bond with you. His forehead rested on your shoulder, and he kissed your collarbone with adoration. No rush. No distance. Just the two of you, entwined in a silence that said everything.

Then, when his breath steadied and the knot slowly loosened, he stroked the inside of your thigh gently, almost worshipfully. He looked at you, pupils still dilated, and whispered in a soft voice:

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever touched.”

He smiled tiredly, eyes sweet but still burning.

“Now sleep, love. I’ll take care of you.”

And as he held you tight, you truly felt there was nothing to fear. He was there. With you. For you. And, for the first time, completely yours.

The morning light filtered through the poorly drawn curtains, and it was the gentle tickle of his nose against your neck that fully woke you up. Hee was curled up against your back, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as if he truly feared you might disappear at any moment.

His deer ears trembled softly against the pillow, still sensitive and damp from that hybrid part that had exploded in intensity the night before. You could feel his warm, close breath. And when you slowly turned around, with a small smile on your still-tired lips, you found his eyes waiting for you.

Big, liquid eyes, with that shy Bambi-like reflection — but inside shone something more: adoration. And a little fear.

His cheeks immediately flushed red, as if the perfectionist Hee had returned — the one who remade the bed twice and blushed from a prolonged look. But you ruffled his hair gently, and he pouted adorably, shrugging.

“How are you?” he asked in a low voice, almost a whisper.

You giggled, still nestled under his arm. “I’m good... actually, great. It was wonderful to see you like that... lost. So yours. Feeling your knot inside me that... kept tightening more and more...”

The look you gave him made him almost moan from embarrassment, but also from the memory that phrase had awakened in his senses.

Hee held you tighter, if possible, and sighed. “Maybe the administration was right to pair us for the dorm.”

You turned, eyes half-closed and one eyebrow raised. “Really? Because, excuse me, you hated me at first.”

He lowered his gaze, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “You were cheeky. Curious. Always in the middle of my things...”

“But?”

“But now...” He bit his lip, his ears trembling again. “...deep down, I love you.”

You were momentarily speechless, then poked him with a finger on his bare chest. “Hey, are you serious?”

“Yes.” Hee’s voice was more confident, deeper. He was letting go of the more courageous part of himself. “And you? Do you feel something for me, or were you just curious to... test a hybrid?”

“Ah!” you burst out laughing. “That time I went out with that guy? It was just to make you jealous. It worked. But then... little by little, I fell in love with you. With your pout. Your trembling ears. How you blushed if someone said something dirty to you...”

He laughed softly, ran a hand through his messy hair, and teased you: “So you’re a manipulator. A good girl with the soul of a sentimental criminal.”

“Maybe.” You leaned in and kissed him at the base of his neck, where the night before you had left more than one mark. “But now I’m your manipulator, right?”

Hee sniffed the air near you, with that hybrid instinct he still couldn’t fully control. He looked at you with slow, glossy eyes, his voice lower, rougher, almost primal:

“It’s nice... to feel my scent on your body.”

The way he said it, with animal innocence but a possessive tone, made you squeeze your thighs a little from the shiver that ran down your spine.

You smiled. “And you... you’re so sweet when you become wild. You can’t hide anymore, Hee. You’re mine.”

He blushed again, but instead of answering, he slid slowly on top of you, his fingers already curious on your side. But that... was another story. Or maybe, another morning.

OMG, I hope you like it :) Only Ni-Ki and Sunoo are left to complete this series of Enhypen as hybrids!! I don’t know when I’ll have time for the others because I’ll have university exams, so I won’t have much time to post two one-shots a week :(

Enhypen hybird series!

taglist: @ourshin @7789995323567322 @tunafishyfishylike @kkamismom12 @stwrlightt @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisaster @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch @xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio soulreaper05-blog

#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfic #enhypen drabbles #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #lee heesung smut #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung imagines #enhypen heeseung #enhypen smut #enhypen hyung line #enhypen hard hours #enhypen headcanons

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hoshifighting · 6 months ago

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hiii, so imagine OT13 head canons in which they are rough but soft at the same time, like deepthroat while stroking your hair, or pounding while holding hands

how seventeen mix soft and rough at sex

WARNINGS: smut, +18

seungcheol: fucks you like a ragdoll, talks to you like you're a whore, holds your face like youre made of glass. his hands cradling your face like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. “so fucking pretty, my little slut, do you like when im destroying this pussy like this huh?” and when you try to look away, all shy, his thumbs tilt your chin back to him, forcing you to meet his eyes. “don’t hide from me~~~ let me see you drip cum around my cock.”

jeonghan: taunting at first, tilting your chin up like some princess-movie to make you look at him while he fucks into you balls deep, his grip firm in your hair. “what, baby? too much?” he coos, but his free hand is tracing delicate lines down your arm, llips brushing over yours like a secret, his next thrust knocking the air from your lungs.

joshua: he’s got you spread out beneath him, your ankles over his shoulders, deep inside you, his hands gripping your waist so tight it’s gonna bruise. he presses a kiss to your knee, then another to your ankle, eyes warm despite the filthy things he’s doing to you.

junhui: hand is firm in your hair, “mm, love hearing you like this.” and when you tense up, hands grabbing at his arms, he laughs, but it’s sweet, i feel like he gives this fun sex vibes, where you laugh, cum and feel loved at the same time (really hard to not fall in love for him in a situationship).

hoshi: will fuck you hard, with a cute and protective talk. he’s gets your back arched, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist, keeping you still as he pounds into you. “baby, baby, baby—fuck. you okay, love? still with me? want some water? a pause? no? should i continue? okay, i got you.”

wonwoo: will be touching you, caressing you all the time. arm locked around your waist, keeping you close as he fucks up into you. “shh, baby.” his other hand it’s everywhere—sliding up your back, gripping your ass, threading through your hair, like he can’t get enough of touching you.

woozi: listen to me: CHEST-TO-CHEST PRESS. if he has been mean and overstimulates you, for example, and you're squirming, or overwhelmed, he will press you down the bed with his tiddies, making you stay in place. BUT in a softer case, he will do it if you need some grounding, if you are getting in subspace... he will make sure you're protected/shielded by his big body.

minghao: fucks you rough as fuck, but trails the points of his fingers to make you shiver! of course that you can shiver from the very action of his cock sliding in and out of you, but he loves doing this because he gets so hard at the sight of you squirming under the tips of his digits.

mingyu: i feel like he would give you a desperate forhead kiss in the middle of it. he will be destroying your insides, and then he kisses your forehead, keeping his mouth there, because he gets so soft when he is about to cum. “so fucking perfect, baby.”

seokmin: he will be doing all types of stimulaton down there. masturbating your clit, fucking your pussy while you are using a plug. WHILE DOING THAT LITTLE NOSES CARESSES, tickles, strokes, fondles, i don't know what to call it.

seungkwan: eye-contact-obsession??????? needs to see you. has your face FRAMED in his hands, forcing you to look at him, even when it’s too much. “uh-uh, baby. no hiding.” his thumb brushes over your cheek, his gaze locked onto yours, and when your eyes threaten to flutter shut—he tuts, tilting your chin back up. “nah, keep ‘em open. lemme see you.”

vernon: will wrap his big hand around your neck, in a very romantic way—just like he does when he is kissing you—,but would end up choking you at the end. making you feel very surprised when he moves from a caressing and light wrap, to a tighter and sexier one.

chan: fucks you hard until you see the bulge of his enormous cock on your belly, and then caresses the bulge with his thumb. cutely. too cutely, like you arent crying, squirming, screaming, wetting the bed over it.

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vampzity · 6 months ago

Text

oh baby! | S.MG

★ DAY THIRTEEN: BREEDING KINK WITH MINGI ★

pairing: husband! mingi x f! reader

it was a long day of babysitting, one the two of you enjoyed. however, mingi never thought seeing you take care of a child would heighten his desire to make you a mother..

[warnings]: MDNI 18+ !!!, smut, breeding kink, unprotected sex (duh), biting, rough sex, praising, degrading??, creampie, nipple play, spanking, fingering, prob curses ngl, pet names (baby, doll, good girl) not proofread..

word count: 1.5k

Mingi watched as you spoke to Yunho, complimenting how good of a kid his daughter was. His son stood with his arms crossed, sticking his tongue out at you to be funny.

Yunho had twins— a boy and girl, however the boy was only older by a few minutes and boy were they opposites. They were cute and you always loved having them over whenever Yunho was busy with his work or wanted to spend time with his wife.

Mingi didn’t mind it, but he struggled to keep his composure whenever he saw you take care of the two kids. How well you cared for them, heard their concerns, how your face lit up whenever they showed you their drawings. You loved them and took care of them as if they were your own.

It drove him nuts.

He felt his face flush red at the thought of you with his own kids, wondering what you would name them, even what they would look like. He knew you’d make a great mother someday and he trusted that instinct. Mingi watched as you held the younger girls hand, her finger squeezing around your finger for comfort. It was adorable and you were glowing.

His dick twitched in his as he imagined you ontop of him— your tits bobbing as you bounced on his aching member, how his bulge stuck out of you as he mangled you from the inside. He could see his cum dripping out of your cunt as he fucked you senseless, pumping you with load after load to guarantee a child.

Fuck.

A flip switched in his brain. Mingi never considered the idea of a child, it’s not like you two weren’t ready or financially prepared. You were, you had a home, a good source of income, there was really nothing holding you two back.

“You’ve been in your head all day, are you ok?” Mingi felt your hand brush against his own, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He met your eyes, realizing that the two children who followed you around all day were now gone. His bulge stuck out of his pants as he noticed the innocence in your eyes. His urge was growing, all he wanted to do was stuff you, make you a mother of his kids. It was ad if he was being teased at this point.

Mingi wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in and kissing your neck softly. Your eyes widened at his sudden actions— unsure of what to do or think but you let him continue, not questioning it at all.

“Just wanna make a baby out of you.”

Your breath hitched and you left out a soft moan, keeping silent as he continued. His hand kneaded the small fat of your love handle while his lips sucked on your skin softly. You felt your body heat up with embarrassment as his like danced around your neck.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll take care of you.” your eyes met his, watching as lust filled his dark orbs.

You stood there in shock not realizing a shy smile appearing on your face and without a second thought, Mingi picked you up bridal style. He carried you to your shared bedroom and placed you on the bed, ripping your clothes off of you as he took off his pants. You laid there vulnerable, feeling your cunt swell at his dominance.

You watched as his pants fell and pulled his cock out of his pants. He hovered over you, bringing your legs around his waist.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, I’m just really desperate to stuff this pretty pussy of yours.”

He latched his lips onto your neck, biting your skin harshly. He pushed his cock into you without warning, a loud groan escaping the both of you as he began ramming into your swollen cunt. His angry head pounded your sweet spot with every thrust, stretching you out in ways you’ve never felt before.

“Fuck, loosen up for me doll,” he bit against your neck hard enough to leave a deep teeth mark.

“I can’t push myself inside of you if you keep squeezing me like this.”

You cried out in pleasure, your hands seeped up his shirt, scratching his back as his cock slammed into you. You dug your nails into his skin, squeezing your legs around his waist as you begged his name.

“Mingi please,” your cunt pulsated as fast as your heartbeat, choking his dick as he was inside you. “Gonna cum.”

He groaned aloud. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his dark gaze. A small smug grew on his face as he watched your helpless state, making his cock twitch inside of you. Watching you cry out his name, seeing how blown out your eyes were from the way his cock stretched you open, it was truly a sight to see.

Mingi was always sweet when you two did anything, so seeing him like this was an all new experience. He was desperate, a dog begging to be seen, to be loved. He wanted his cum dripping out of you by the time he was done, desperate to see what you may look like carry his own child.. or children.

“What’s wrong doll? Can’t take it?” His grip tightened on your chin, his nails almost caving into your delicate skin.

“So used to me being sweet, you can’t handle being manhandled?”

Breathless moans escaped you, unable to even think of a response for him. His hand slipped to your tits, his fingers squeezing your nipple harshly. You yelled out, your body squirming under him as he pounded into your cunt.

“You gonna answer me, yeah?” You nodded, a soft yes leaving your lips as Mingi groaned. “That’s my good girl.”

He rested his head against your chest, kissing your skin softly. His thrusts grew harsher, sloppier and he could feel his mind go foggy as his cock pressed against your cervix.

“You want me to make you a mother, isn’t that right baby?”

He sat up, looking down to admire his dick ran into you. His hand gripped onto your breast, squeezing it gently as he threw his head back. His hot liquid filled into you without a warning, a large white ring forming around his cock as your juices mixed with his own.

“Fuck, fuck.” Mingi looked down at you, his gaze falling to your heated body. “I can’t wait to see that baby hump of yours.”

He quickly pulled out of you, stuffing his fingers inside of your aching cunt. You whined out, feeling his fingers curl inside of you as he pushed them further.

“Mmm,” he licked his lip, watching as his fingers became coated in your slick. “Can’t let anything pool out of this pretty thing. You need every drop.”

He threw you on your stomach, admiring the way your slick stretched through your folds. He propped himself up behind you, sliding his tip against your hole.

“Take it like a good girl for me will you?”

He pushed himself into you, his hands gripping at your ass as he pounded you from behind. Your hands gripped at the bed sheets, crying out in pleasure as he angled your ass just perfectly to feel his tip.

“You like that baby?” His hand landed against your ass, a loud smack rippling through the room. “Practically my little slut.”

Mingi smacked you one more time, throwing his head back as his thrusts grew sloppier by the minute. His nails dug into your soft skin, a mix of your whimpers and his groans filling the room.

“You like when I fuck you like a slut baby?”

You whimpered in response, trying to suppress your moans but to no avail. Mingi landed a hard smack to the side of your ass, your skin turning a ripe red as it tingled from the pain.

“Answer me when I speak to you doll, I’d hate to break such delicate skin.”

“Yes! Yes, please fuck me harder!” You yelled out, looking back at his dark lusting eyes.

Mingi threw his head back, his hands gripping your waist tightly as you squeezed his cock. His tip pounded your cervix, practically bruising it from his size. He was in a daze, one he couldn’t get out of as member leaked.

“Fuck doll. I’m gonna fill you up so good.”

His hot liquid filled your insides, spilling out of you as he continued to pump you in. He couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to. His tip was so sensitive, aching as his cum gushed into you. He was desperate to make sure you’d get pregnant, even though he had no issue putting you in this predicament again.

His thrusts slowed as a loud groan escaped his mouth. He leaned over, kissing your back slowly before pulling his dick out of you. A soft whimper left your lips as he pulled your back to him, spooning you. Mingi kissed your back, his hand kneading into your thigh as his leg snaked between your own.

“Tell me doll,” his kisses snaked up to your neck as his breath hovered over your ear. “Are you ready for round 3?”

back to valentine’s masterlist

a/n: yall i am SO SORRY that this took so long and that i didn’t update it when i should’ve 😭 i was so distracted and busy today!!

taglist: @dvrktvnnel @h4untedgrl @rvereri @scarfac3 @jjongibears @kittykat-25 @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @tiredlittlevirgo @joonezra @honeyhwaaa @potentialgay @dollywoo @losrpark @motherseonghwa23 @inniesfanblog @stephanieeeyang @galaxy4489 @nickgurl4life @fangirljas929 @desirehorizon @channiesluvrclub @katsukis1wife @unbel1ve4ble @nopension @bbdeongi @bbykaixx

★ comment to be added to the taglist or fill the detailed form here!

#—♡vampzity #—♡︎vamp’s valentines #—♡︎vamp’s hard hours #ateez #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez x female reader #ateez mingi #song mingi #mingi smut #mingi x reader #ateez atiny #atiny

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ari-ana-bel-la · 24 days ago

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hey❤️ i love your writings, they‘re soo well written!! could i please request something with carlos and his baby or toddler daughter? some sweet daddy daughter moments between his 1 or 2-year-old baby that make everyone’s hearts melt🥹

Scenes full of love

The morning sun had barely peeked over the horizon when Carlos stepped out of the motorhome, cradling his daughter, Yn, against his chest. The one-year-old was dressed in a miniature version of his racing suit—complete with his number stitched on the back and a soft bucket hat protecting her from the sun. Her tiny noise-canceling headphones rested gently over her ears, slightly oversized but undeniably adorable.

Carlos looked down at her, smiling. "Ready to meet the world, mi sol?"

Yn responded with a soft giggle, her chubby fingers reaching for the sunglasses perched on his shirt. She always smiled, but it was different when she was in her Papá's arms—like the entire universe made sense to her. He kissed the crown of her head before stepping into the paddock.

It didn’t take long for her presence to be noticed.

"No way! Is that Yn?" Lando called out, jogging over with a wide grin. He bent down to her eye level, his hands on his knees. "Look at you, little star!"

Yn blinked at him, then let out a tiny shriek of laughter. Carlos puffed out his chest proudly. "She likes you today, that's rare."

"She knows greatness when she sees it," Lando teased, winking at Yn.

Oscar was next. He walked over, towel around his neck, and peeked at Yn with curious eyes. "I thought you said she was tiny, but she's even tinier than I imagined. And those cheeks!"

Yn, as if on cue, reached out and patted his face. Oscar chuckled. "I’ll take that as approval."

Charles strolled in shortly after, sipping coffee. He nearly dropped his cup. "No. No! Carlos, you brought Yn and didn’t tell me?"

Carlos smirked. "Figured I’d surprise everyone."

Charles came closer, eyes softening. "Bonjour, petite fleur," he whispered, brushing a finger down her arm. Yn blinked at him, then clutched tighter to Carlos's shirt. She buried her face into her father’s chest.

Carlos chuckled. "Still a bit shy."

"She’s perfect," Charles said, grinning.

More drivers trickled in—Daniel, Pierre, even Max, who pretended not to be interested but ended up crouching beside Carlos for a solid five minutes, making ridiculous faces until Yn giggled.

"I swear she has your exact smile," Pierre commented, snapping a picture on his phone.

Carlos swayed gently with Yn in his arms, beaming. "She’s the best part of my life. Nothing else even comes close."

By the time Rebecca arrived later in the day, she found Carlos sitting in the back of the hospitality area, Yn fast asleep on his chest.

"How did she do?" Rebecca asked softly, settling beside him.

"She stole everyone’s heart," Carlos whispered. "Just like she stole mine."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Carlos stood in the middle of the baby boutique with his arms crossed and eyebrows drawn in disapproval.

"Are we really doing this?"

Rebecca held up a tiny pair of gold studs. "It’s tradition! My mom had mine pierced when I was one."

Carlos looked down at Yn, who was happily chewing on a teething toy, completely oblivious to her fate.

"She has no idea what’s coming," he muttered. "Poor baby."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "She’ll cry for a second, then she’ll forget all about it. And she’ll look so cute!"

Carlos knelt next to Yn. "You trust me, right, mi amor? You know Papá would never let anything bad happen to you."

Yn responded with a delighted gurgle, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of his hair.

"Ouch—okay, okay. See? She’s already mad at me and it hasn’t even happened yet."

When they entered the little piercing room, Carlos held Yn while Rebecca spoke to the technician.

"Carlos, hand her over. I’ll hold her for the actual piercing."

"Like hell you will," he snapped. "If she cries, she’s gonna cry on me."

Rebecca smirked. "Big tough guy, huh?"

"Tough until she tears up, then I'm done for."

Carlos sat down in the chair, cradling Yn in his lap. The technician carefully cleaned her ears and marked the placement.

"Alright," she said. "One... two... three."

Click.

Yn froze. Her little face scrunched up. Then came the wail.

Carlos visibly winced. "Oh, mi vida..."

The second earring went in quickly, but the damage was done. Yn sobbed, red-faced, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

Carlos held her tighter, patting her back. "Shhh, shhh, I’ve got you. Papá’s here. You’re okay, you’re okay. I hate this. I hate this so much."

Rebecca leaned over, trying not to laugh. "It’s over, babe. Look, they look beautiful."

Carlos glared at her. "Beautiful? She looks like she went to war."

Yn sniffled, pressing her cheek against his chest.

"Mi sol," Carlos whispered, rocking gently. "I’m so sorry your mom did this to you."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "Your daughter is dramatic."

"And your daughter now has holes in her ears. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for this."

Still, by the time they reached the car, Yn had stopped crying. She sucked on her pacifier and dozed off in Carlos’s arms.

He looked down at her and sighed. "Okay, maybe she does look cute."

Rebecca smirked. "Told you."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Every morning, Carlos was up before the sun.

Not because of training.

Not because of meetings.

But because he had a very important ritual: baby cuddles.

The nursery glowed softly in the early dawn. Carlos crept in barefoot, careful not to wake Rebecca. Yn stirred in her crib, tiny fists rubbing at her eyes.

"Buenos días, princesa," he whispered.

Her eyes opened, and when they found his face, she broke into the biggest, gummy smile.

Carlos’ heart melted for the hundredth time. He reached in and scooped her up, kissing her forehead.

"Did you sleep well, mi sol? Let’s go wake Mamá."

He carried her into their room and slipped under the covers, settling her between them. Rebecca, still half-asleep, reached out.

"My babies," she mumbled.

Yn kicked her feet and let out a happy squeal. Carlos chuckled. "She’s ready to party."

Rebecca blinked awake. "It’s six a.m."

"And the sun is up, so is our sunshine," Carlos replied, nuzzling Yn’s cheek.

Yn babbled and crawled toward Rebecca, who kissed her head.

Carlos reached over and pulled both his girls into his arms. "This," he whispered, "is heaven."

They lay there for a long time, cocooned in warmth and soft giggles. Yn tugged at the collar of Carlos’ shirt, laughing when he made silly noises. He blew raspberries on her belly, making her squeal with joy.

"You're her favorite person," Rebecca said, brushing back Carlos's messy hair.

"She’s mine too," he said seriously. "Both of you are."

Eventually, when breakfast called and the sun was truly up, Carlos still didn’t move. Yn had fallen asleep on his chest, her ear pressed to his heartbeat.

"Let’s stay like this forever," he whispered.

Rebecca smiled. "Deal."

And in that quiet morning glow, with the soft breathing of their daughter between them, everything was exactly as it should be.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

-♡○♡

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siriuslylantsov · 6 months ago

Text

afterglow

pairing: joel miller x reader

description: in which, you spend an evening with joel on valentines day.

tags: MDNI! smut and fluff, established relationship, jackson!joel, fem!reader, sickeningly cute, so so much kissing, soft!joel (but hes also kinda dirty, i can't help myself), age gap (it was thought about when writing but it's not explicitly stated so imagine whatever), oral (f receiving, munch joel!! everyone cheered), fingering, unprotected piv (he pulls out), soft!dom joel kinda, aftercare, r and j's relationship is new but its implied that she already has a close relationship with ellie.

a/n: happy valentines day cuties!!! my gift to you. this started off super cute and soft and then two thirds of it became smut, idk where that came from. anywho, happy reading!!

wc: 3k

“hi darlin’,” joel says as you open the door.

the early evening sun casts a soft orange glow over the side of face, complementing his complexion perfectly. a shy, crooked smile tugs at his lips, the dimple on his right cheek deepening. one arm is folded behind him, holding something from your view and the other is planted against the frame of your door.

“hi baby,” you reply, giggling as you step forward to kiss him.

he accepts your lips eagerly, using the hidden arm to curl around your waist. you hear the faint crinkle of paper against your back. you hum sweetly into the kiss, pulling away to see what he’s got for you. a small bouquet appears between your bodies–a humble bunch of white and purple flowers that could handle growing in the cold weather, along with some that you suspect the gardeners had a role in providing.

“maria went on patrol with me today and helped me pick some o’ these out,” he explains, watching you toy with a lilac petal of a flower he can't be damned to remember the name of. “d’ya like em?”

your fingers rake softly through his beard, coaxing his gaze upward until his eyes meet yours. tears gather at your waterline, and joel should probably be alarmed—but he’s grown used to it, having been there for so many of your firsts. apparently, getting flowers was one of them too.

“i’ve never got flowers before,” you admit in a hushed whisper, sickening adoration pooling into your body, making you feel warm all over despite the cold air that sneaks its way into your house.

joel takes note of the wind picking up and guides you inside, a solid hand at the small of your back. he takes your dazed figure all the way to the kitchen, grinning amusedly at how you continue to admire the bouquet. he looks through your cabinets for something tall enough, settling when he finds a mason jar that would be perfect.

“i really like these, joel.” you smile up at him when he's in front of you again. he's holding his hand out expectantly and the jar filled with water in the opposite one. you give him the flowers with a reluctant pout, following him to the counter where he begins to set them up.

“‘m glad,” he expresses warmly, untying the ribbon that held the stems together. “damn shame i couldn't get you roses, the garden ran out pretty quick.”

you can’t help the fond smile that spreads across your face as you watch him try to organise the flowers nicely, carefully moving them around so he doesn't accidentally pull off a petal. when he's happy with his arrangement he turns back to you, neatly folding up the brown paper that wrapped the bouquet and placing it in your palm. “ellie made me promise to tell you that she helped with that so keep it in mind, i guess,” he says, nodding to the doodles of leaves that were peppered along the edges.

“noted,” you laugh, picturing her fiery, insisting nature with ease. you gotta fuckin’, i don’t know, make it pretty for her, joel. just ugh- give it to me.

suddenly, you remember the muffins that were kept warm in the oven. you scurry over there wordlessly, causing joel to twitch confusedly. you take the tray out with quick fingers, holding a muffin out for joel.

“it's a new recipe, cinnamon and pear,” you explain excitedly as he walks over to you. when he looks down at it, he sees you’ve managed to orchestrate two small slices of fruit to sit in a heart shape and it's awfully cute.

your eyes are trained intently on him as he takes a bite. it's instantly the best thing he's ever tasted but he chews thoughtfully for a few more seconds so it doesn't look like he's making his mind up on a whim. admittedly, he is but it's also just that good. the texture of the warm cooked pear complimenting the firm but soft spiced crumb of the muffin. he hums in approval when he swallows, shaking his head in disbelief.

“sweetheart, this is really fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, his voice rough in appreciation as he dusts off muffin remnants that have stuck to his bottom lip.

you beam, extremely pleased. you wait as he finishes eating. not that long, apparently, as two big bites later, it’s gone. he reaches up with his free hand and tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, twirling it before letting it fall.

“so about today,” he starts and you hum attentively. “thought we’d take a walk around that part of town that you like and then go feed the horses. maybe go back to mine if there's time.”

the walk is perfect. you swing your joined hands between your bodies, smiling to yourself while joel complains about his brother. the air is solemn, the overwhelming scent and sound of love seeping out of every house you walk by. you never thought life could be this good again or that you’d feel this good again. you owe it all to the mumblin’ grumblin’ man beside you, the one softly caressing your thumb with his own, bringing it up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of your hand.

when you reach the stables, joel pulls out the carrots he had tucked away in his large jacket pocket. (you’d made a detour at the greenhouse before coming here.) you divide the carrots into equal pieces for the animals, setting aside an extra chunk for a horse you remember ellie being particularly fond of–shimmer, if you recall correctly.

joel takes in the sight, endearing eyes unable to part from you. your hand reaching out calmly, vegetable centred in your palm, you bring it to the horse's mouths, giggling when their tongues peek out and tickle you. he crowds in behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. you squirm a little when he tilts to press a kiss to your neck, claiming his lips are cold.

“well, let me warm ‘em up, sweetheart.”

you make it to joel's front door well after sundown, stars shining like diamonds spilled across the night sky. you make a mental note to go stargazing with him and ellie, if she wants, when the weather gets warmer. for now, you just want to be inside.

“she’s with her friend dina tonight,” joel answers your unasked, looming question. you bite back the smile that the words ‘friend’ and ‘dina’ prompt, knowing a lot more than joel about his kids’ relationship status. she's just waiting for the right time.

you turn around to him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “so what you’re saying,” you muse lightly. “is that we have the place to ourselves.”

“mhm,” he smirks.

you twist the door open, often left unlocked, and let yourself through. “well then. come on in, mr. miller.”

he trails behind you up the steps, fingers lacing with yours. you walk into his room with a quiet sigh, taking off your shoes and watching as he follows suit. you love his room, a cultivation of who he is within four walls. you switch on the lamp on his bedside table, refraining from turning the main light so a faint glow encompasses the room, just enough to see the softness in his beautiful brown eyes.

“kiss me?”

he clicks his teeth before lowering his lips to yours, “don’t have to ask.”

his moustache tickles your upper lip and the coarse hair of his beard grazes your chin lightly, but it's not irritating. you welcome the sensation, it being a feature of his that you adore so dearly. proving this, your nails scratch the patch of grey at his jaw.

his tongue slips out, tracing the seam of your lips. a low sound escapes you when you grant him entrance, licking into your mouth languidly. there's no rush, there never is. it's a luxury that three months ago you would’ve laughed at, disbelief evident.

his hands find your waist, pulling your hips flush together. he slips off your jacket and greedily tugs at the hem of your shirt. you appease by lifting your arms. he reaches behind you when he gets your shirt off, deftly unclasping your bra. he does this all while kissing you, but when he finally gets your top half bare, he pulls away. to look.

“beautiful,” he exhales a quick, amazed breath that whooshes past his lips. he admires you unabashedly, trailing his hands up your sides and down your front. he nudges you gently, guiding you onto the bed, his frame looming over yours as you sit down.

you look up at him with dopey, half-lidded eyes, sneaking eager hands under his flannel and undershirt. your fingers trace over his skin, pressing into the soft warmth of his stomach, his body heat sinking into your palms. “back at ya, cowboy."

he takes this as a sign to peel off his layers, pulling them off with ease and adding them to the pile of discarded clothes. you spend a moment gaping at his torso before he lowers himself on top of you, dragging his lips up your neck as he does so. you whine when he begins sucking at your pulse point, teeth scraping your skin every so often. his kisses go lower and lower as he toys with the button of your jeans.

he kisses at your belly, lips catching on the exposed skin of your hips, then upper thighs as he slowly pulls your jeans and underwear down, purposefully avoiding where you need him most. he strips off his pants and boxers and nudges for you to scoot up the bed. you sink into the pile of pillows, joel not far behind as he sits bracketed by your thighs. he runs his hands up and down them, calloused fingertips caressing your skin, squeezing in intervals and leaning down to kiss them, kiss your knees and your calves.

“joel, please,” you whisper, growing a little antsy, his hands all over your body aren't helping.

“impatient,” he tuts, but there's no real reprimand in his voice. “jus’ let me take my time with you.”

“will you at least come up here and kiss me while you're at it?”

he smiles, “what’d i tell ya?”

“don't have to-” your poor impression of his southern drawl gets cut off by his lips on yours. you sigh dreamily into the kiss; you'll never get used to that feeling. his hand cradles your jaw, tilting it to deepen this kiss. you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking it into your mouth.

a needy sound rumbles in the back of his throat, and with a reluctant pull, he breaks away, shifting back to the space between your legs. he's lying on his stomach, cheek pressed against your inner thigh as he waits for your approval. when you nod, he dives in, no time to waste.

he licks a fat stripe between your folds, causing you to cry out. he hooks an arm over your hips to cease your writhing. you could say joel miller eats you out like a man starved, but right now, it's more like a savoured meal, slow and leisurely in its pace. he takes his time, measured strokes of tongue that are assuredly making you feel all the right kinds of ways. you thread your fingers through his hair, so soft, tugging lightly and he hums.

you dare to spare a glance down. it's deadly–him with his mouth attached to you like a vice and eyes staring up at you, decidedly looking like he belongs there. you want to look away but the sight is so enticing.

“baby, more,” you ask breathlessly. “please.”

“yeah?” he sounds equally out of breath, tracing a middle and ring finger around your entrance. “this what you want?”

you nod pathetically with a meek “yes.”

he pushes in slowly, met with no resistance. he finds that spot fast, pressing his curled fingers up. his fingers are longer and thicker than yours, reaching places you’d never been able to. he persistently rubs up, pulling out a little only to go back fast, just the way you like. all the while, he does this thing with his tongue–god, that tongue–where he flicks it from side to side over your clit, flattening it when needed, and it is earth-shattering.

that well-known feeling starts to build and you repeatedly tug at joel's hair, mewling softly, trying to signal him. he’d already figured you were close, but still, he nods. he lifts his head to see you, his thumb replacing his tongue.

“c’mon, sweetheart. give it to me,” he urges you on, kissing your hip bone with slick wet lips and his fingers working fervently like it's the most important thing in the world. joel would argue that right now, it is. “know you want to.”

“joel, yes, oh fuck-” you keen, shuddering violently as you finish. he keeps going, working you through it, lapping up the mess when his fingers slip out. he can't get enough of you. you weakly push at his head, “baby, enough. s’too much.”

suddenly, he's on top of you again, rubbing a clean hand over your hair. “okay, okay,” he coos, his voice low and lulling. he presses gentle pecks to your neck, making his way back up to your lips. you kiss him again, more sluggish than previously, whimpering when you taste yourself on him. fuck, you need him.

you carefully drift a hand between your bodies, curling your fingers around his length. he hisses, inhaling a sharp breath. “shit, are you sure-”

you press him against you, guiding his tip to your slit. “fuck me, joel,” you whisper, using your other hand to hold his face.

that's all he needs to hear before he starts sinking into you, simultaneously groaning as he does. he curses low, though it sounds and looks more like a whine when you see the way his face has twisted up in pleasure when his hips are flush with yours. you feel addictively full, so you hug your arms around his shoulders to prolong the moment. he buries his head in your neck, breathing shallowly as you flutter around him.

“gotta move angel, i gotta-” he gets cut off when you squeeze, nodding against his shoulder.

he thrusts greedily, pulling out almost fully until he somehow goes in deeper. it’s not fast but it’s not slow either, just enough that it leaves you reeling when he draws his hips back. the stretch of him is something you feel you won't get used to, it only just borders on pain that makes it feel deliriously good. all you can offer him are broken gasps as you find purchase on his back with your nails, digging into the flesh.

“fuck you feel good, so so good,” he croons, his voice is soft, breathy, as he presses a lingering kiss to your neck, the words barely a whisper between your bodies. “can't believe you’re mine, this perfect fuckin’ body, perfect fuckin' girl.”

maybe it's the wrecked rasp to his voice or the way the base of his dick rubs against you just right but the high builds fast, record time even. you squeeze around him frantically, mouthing sloppily at his shoulder.

“yeah?” he pants, lifting his head so he can look at you again, you’ve got the sense that he likes to watch. you like him watching you. “gonna give me another one? gonna cum for me?”

“mhm,” you hum, teetering on a sob as he starts fucking you harder, a determined look in his eyes. your face falls sideways into the arm that joel had pressed beside your head “oh god, ohgod-”

“there you go. good girl,” he gushes warmly as you finish. he speeds up urgently, letting your climax be the catalyst of his own, chasing something just out of reach. you pull his face to yours with desperate hands, clinging to him, needing to kiss him. his lips brush over yours messily, not quite kissing you and it drives you crazy. he cums with one more strong thrust, groaning loudly into your open mouth as he pulls out and spills over your stomach.

he slumps on you, heavy, as he comes to, smearing stickiness all over but you find that you don’t care much. you cradle the back of his head with gentle hands, murmuring sweet things. you can feel his soft exhales on your collarbone, sighing as you weave your fingers between his strands. his heart races against your own, almost in sync.

the two of you stay like that for a moment longer as everything slows down. nothing else matters apart from the silvery glow of moonlight filtering through his sheer curtains, spilling in revered ribbons across the floor, or the soft, grounding weight of his body on top of yours. his fingers trace the skin within reach, absentminded circles over your hip bones, lines beneath the curve of your breast.

eventually, he rolls off you, getting the sense that some of your limbs might be going numb. in the midst of your post-orgasmic haze, you don’t realise that he leaves, returning with a damp towel to clean you up. he wipes you up swiftly, murmuring a hushed sorry when you squirm away and joins you under the covers.

he pulls you into his side, letting you tuck yourself under his arm. he presses a kiss to your temple. everything is so serene you want to cry. your body has other plans for you when the dregs of sleep start to claw at your worn-down edges. joel feels the slow flutter of your eyelashes on his chest and he begins to rub a gentle hand over your back, attempting to coax you further. sleep offers its solace, and joel’s steady presence pulls you under, silently promising to keep you warm.

before you drift off though, you hear him–unbearably soft, whispering against your forehead.

“happy valentine's day, angel girl.”

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot

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nizhspo · 1 month ago

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pairing: megumi fushiguro x f!reader

synopsis: megumi fushiguro has been quietly, hopelessly in love with you since the seventh grade. you were soft-spoken then, a little like him, but by junior year, you’re loud, popular, dating sukuna ryomen—the guy everyone’s a little afraid of, and megumi is still just as in love.

content: teenage dirtbag, high school au, pining, megumi is shy and obsessed and down bad, established sukuna x reader, emotional cheating / physical attraction.

he’s been in love with you since the seventh grade.

not the cute kind. not the cinematic, slow-mo, lights-down kind, either. more like a slow, stubborn thing, rooted so deeply into the past five years of his life, he can’t imagine not being a little bit in love with you. like tripping over his words every time you ask for a pencil. like accidentally staring too long in homeroom and spending the rest of the day convinced he made you uncomfortable. like watching you laugh in gym class, and hating that it makes his stomach twist like it does.

because back then, you were different. or—no, maybe just closer to him.

you used to wear hoodies that swallowed your hands, doodle in the margins of your spiral notebooks, hum songs only two other people in school probably had on their playlist. you weren’t quiet, exactly, but you were quieter than you are now. sharper, too. more sarcastic. he remembers the way you chewed your erasers and how your backpack was always falling apart at the seams and littered with buttons from hot topic.

you were never friends, not really. but he remembers the day a group of kids made some shitty joke about him not having a dad, and you, from the back row, snapped: “you’re all being dicks, you know that?” loud. unfazed. and then went right back to sketching skulls in your math notes like you hadn’t just stood up for a boy you didn’t even know.

and after that, something shifted in megumi.

not between you, no—he still never worked up the nerve to talk to you outside of forced group projects, or the one time you told him you liked the band on his t-shirt and all he could muster up was a measly “thanks” that sounded more like an i-hate-you than a i’ve-been-in-love-with-you-since-you-stood-up-for-me.

but nonetheless, the shift was in him. in the way he started sitting up a little straighter when you were in the room. the way he noticed you more. the way the crush crept up on him like a fever. the way that when yuji would bother him about his type in girls, he would describe you every time.

and by eighth grade, you’d started to change. not suddenly. just slowly, bit by bit. you stopped wearing your headphones in the back of class so much, started leaning forward instead, laughing louder, answering more questions. you traded chipped black nail polish for fresh sets of acrylics, glossy and almond-shaped, white at the tips. you didn’t doodle on your sneakers anymore. you didn’t carry your sketchbook to lunch.

your friends changed, too. no more kids with scuffed backpacks and cracked DS screens— now it was girls with phones tucked into the waistband of their leggings, saying we’re going to the mall after school, not wanna come over and play left 4 dead? they didn’t care about boss fights or easter eggs. they cared about lashes and lip liners and rumors.

and megumi never hated you for it. never resented the way you changed. he just kept watching, quiet, steady, like someone observing the tide roll back. watched you drift farther and farther out, while he stayed where he’d always been, ankle-deep at the edge of it all.

because you were still you, in the ways that mattered. you still smiled at him in the hallways, on the rare mornings you weren’t surrounded by a crowd of people all clawing for your attention. you still ducked into the art room between periods to say hi to the teacher you used to adore, even after you dropped art for drama just to match your schedule with your friends.

sure, you were different now. shinier. louder. harder to reach. but megumi still saw those small pieces, and he still admired you for them. because even when everything else shifted, you stayed genuine. and that made all the difference to him.

and by ninth grade, you were gone completely.

well, not really. you still went to the same school. had a locker two rows down. ended up in the same english class, same gym period, same fucking homeroom.

but you were popular now. or at least known. loud, bright, magnetic. the kind of girl who caught the eyes of guys like sukuna—who drove a camaro with the windows down no matter the weather, who lived two houses down from megumi his entire life and yet had never once spoken to him like a person. you were the kind of girl who got invited to every party, showed up late but somehow made it better, left before curfew and still managed straight a’s without breaking a sweat. the kind of girl who, objectively, shouldn’t have even seen a guy like megumi.

and for a while, you did see him. but then slowly, you stopped. no more quiet smiles in the hallway. no more eye contact across classrooms. no more borrowed pencils or mumbled thank yous.

he couldn’t even blame you.

and yet, even now, with all the polish and confidence and charm, he still sees her. the version of you from back then. in the way you pull your sleeves over your hands when it’s too cold in the classroom. in the way your fingers still drum against your thigh when you’re deep in thought. in the way that, every so often, when you and he end up at your lockers at the same time and the hallway’s empty except for the hum of the vents, he can hear the faint pulse of your headphones, muffled basslines and distorted vocals that sound like his playlists, like his bands, like the kind of music most people outgrew. he sees it in how you still glare when someone says something cruel. how you still tilt your head when you're curious. how you still laugh with your whole mouth, like you're not trying to be pretty, just happy.

and he knows. he knows it’s stupid. knows you’re different now. knows you’re out of reach in all the ways that matter. but some part of him, some hopeless, hormone-addled, teenage part of him that still believes in maybe—still hopes.

by junior year, megumi wasn’t bullied anymore.

not exactly.

people mostly left him alone, too busy nursing their own breakups, GPA anxieties, and hallway dramas to care about the quiet kid in the back row. he wasn’t popular, but he wasn’t invisible either. just… peripheral. the kind of presence you register like background noise, familiar but unmemorable. he was that weird, dark-haired kid who used to get in fights freshman year—whose knuckles always looked a little bruised, whose hoodie sleeves were always tugged down, whose eyes flicked sharp and narrow at the first hint of confrontation.

but now? he mostly kept his head down. sat in the back of the classroom. answered only when called on. went to the nurse’s office more often than he went to lunch. had one very loud, very pink-haired best friend who never seemed to care how little he talked. he wasn’t a total outcast. he still had girls approach him every once in a while, usually the ones who thought quiet meant mysterious, or who wanted to collect a new personality to polish up like a thrift store jacket.

but they never stayed long.

and megumi wasn’t at the bottom of the social food chain. he just wasn’t sure he was on it at all. not the kind of guy you laughed at. just the kind you forgot to notice. the kind of guy who ate in the art hallway because the cafeteria made his skin crawl. the kind who walked slow between classes to avoid brushing shoulders with too many people at once. the kind who had more unexcused absences than contacts in his phone. the kind girls whispered about in the way people do when they think pity sounds like kindness— “he has so much potential,” they’d say, sighing, already dreaming of everything they’d change about him.

you, though—you were everything he wasn’t.

the kind of girl who could walk into a room and shift its gravity. the homecoming court type. loud, laughing, lip-glossed. you had your own table at lunch. friends who actually liked each other. a boyfriend who played football, who seemed to be a dick to everyone but you.

and you were nice. like, actually nice, so when you got with sukuna, it had everyone doing double takes, especially because sukuna was a dick, full stop. the kind of guy who wore his temper like a badge and didn’t care who saw it. football captain. the kind of boy who'd rip the rearview mirror off your car because you parked too close. you’d never had a boyfriend before, and sukuna? he’d broken at least three hearts the summer before sophomore year even started.

no one saw it coming.

but megumi did. kind of.

because he noticed the way sukuna looked at you. the way he got quieter when you were around, not soft, not kind, just… less sharp. less willing to swing first. he’d still glare, still breathe anger like oxygen, but he held it in his fists instead of throwing it, like somehow, just being near you was enough to rein him in. and megumi hated that it made sense. that of course you’d be the exception. of course even a guy like sukuna would bend around you.

because sukuna commanded attention—walked into rooms like he owned them, like people existed to be looked down on or used up. he didn’t ask for the spotlight. he was the spotlight.

and megumi, on the other hand, was the kind of guy who slipped beneath it. the shadow in the corner. the quiet one. the boy no one looked at twice unless they needed help on homework or wanted to ask if he was “mad about something.”

and if sukuna ever knew how often megumi thought about you— if he ever knew the way megumi watched you, soft and aching, like a boy too close to a sun he wasn’t meant to touch, he’d probably beat the shit out of him. wouldn’t even hesitate.

and megumi knew that, which is why he didn’t say anything. just sat quietly through every shared class. math, english, gym. homeroom every morning like clockwork. you’d walk in, laughing with your friends, gloss catching the fluorescent lights, your backpack always slipping off one shoulder, your hair always perfect in that messy-on-purpose way, and megumi would freeze. would still. would go so still it felt like maybe if he didn’t move, the pounding in his chest would dull itself down.

and yuji noticed, of course, because yuji always noticed.

he’d elbow megumi in the ribs during passing period, eyebrows waggling like a clown. “bro,” he’d whisper, “you’re doing it again.”

megumi would frown. “doing what?”

yuji would mimic his stare, all wide-eyed and stiff. “‘oh, wow, look at her, she’s so pretty, i wish she’d step on me—’”

“shut the fuck up.”

“—‘i want her to punch me in the face with love—’”

“yuji.”

“i just think it’s weirder to keep staring from the back of the room like a creep,” he’d say, shrugging like he wasn’t the most annoying human alive.

megumi would roll his eyes when yuji called him out. act annoyed. mutter a shut up under his breath. but he wouldn’t argue, because it was true. he was staring. and yeah, maybe that did make him a creep. but he couldn’t help it, because he was so deeply, stupidly in love with that version of you—

the one who used to draw skulls in the margins of your notes and roll your eyes at pre-algebra, and the one you’d become, who walked with confidence, flirted without meaning to, and danced like nobody could touch her. and every version in between, too. every shift. every year. every soft evolution of you, he’d watched unfold like it was something sacred.

but he’d never say that part out loud. not with sukuna prowling the hallways like a pitbull off-leash, not with your world orbiting somewhere far beyond his reach.

so he said nothing, even when it hurt. especially when it hurt.

and then there were the nights, the low ones. the gross, shameful ones. the ones where he’d spend over an hour doomscrolling through instagram models and x-videos, trying to find someone who looked kind of like you. someone with the same tilt of the eyes. the same mouth. the same slouch of confidence and softness and everything you were to him.

but it never worked.

and he’d end up frustrated, disgusted, slamming his phone face-down on his nightstand. and then his brain would fill in the blanks anyway, and he’d hate himself for it every time. for letting it go that far. for thinking about you like that—like you were his, like he had any fucking right.

it wasn’t his proudest habit. wasn’t something he’d ever admit, either. but he was a teenage boy. a teenage boy with too many feelings, too few outlets, and a crush so deep it had settled into the marrow of his bones.

so yeah, he stared. and yeah, he thought about you. and he hated himself for both, but he never stopped wanting. especially not tonight.

megumi hadn’t wanted to come. he told yuji no at least six times, each more irritable than the last.

“i’m not going,” he’d said, flat. “why the hell would i go?”

yuji just grinned, like he was in on some cosmic joke megumi hadn’t been let in on. “because it’s her party, duh.”

megumi had scowled. “yeah. her party. not mine. not ours. she didn’t even invite me.”

“she put the flyer on everyone’s locker.”

“it wasn’t on mine.”

yuji rolled his eyes. “because yours is halfway to hell in the north wing by the industrial closet. stop being a coward.”

and so here he was, standing in your kitchen like a fucking idiot. in his best pair of jeans—barely a step up from his worst, and an iron maiden shirt he’d owned since middle school. it was soft with age, a little frayed at the hem. the collar hung too loose and the graphic was faded, but it was his favorite, and he’d thought maybe if you noticed it, you’d say something. if he even got close enough for you to notice him.

which, at the rate he was going, seemed unlikely.

he’d been standing in the kitchen for twenty minutes pretending to sip from a red solo cup that had nothing in it. didn’t even want to drink, didn’t trust half the shit on the counters. the music was loud, the floor was sticky with god-knows-what, and there were way too many people bumping shoulders and laughing like they weren’t all going to delete half the night from their memory tomorrow.

his palms were damp. his heart was pacing for no reason. he was thinking about leaving—slinking out the back like a ghost and texting yuji some half-assed excuse, when he heard it.

“megumi?”

his name. your voice. his heart dropped.

he turned too fast, the blood rushing to his face before he could even look at you, and god, you were glowing. gone was the glossy prom dress and rhinestone heels from earlier. now it was a black tube top you kept tugging at, and cotton shorts that made his mind short-circuit. socked feet on your kitchen tile. hair a little messy, makeup smudged just enough to make him dizzy.

you looked real. you looked perfect. and somehow, impossibly, you were standing close. looking at him.

“i never knew you were the party type,” you said, half-grin curling into your cheek. “you’ve always been more… brooding.”

he blinked slow, like maybe this was some kind of fucked-up hallucination, the kind that hit after one too many nights of laying back in his room, headphones in, hand around his dick, the idea of you warped and glowing behind his eyelids. like maybe he was actually half-dead from shame, from guilt, from the limp embarrassment of finishing to the thought of someone who barely even looked at him anymore.

“uh. yeah. i guess,” he said, voice catching halfway between disbelief and dread.

your eyes drifted lower to his shirt, and you tilted your head. “iron maiden?”

his throat worked. “you—you know them?”

you lifted a brow. “of course i do.”

and behind you, because god hates him, yuji stood over your shoulder, grinning like a devil and mouthing something that looked suspiciously like say something you loser.

megumi ignored him. focused on the way your lip gloss caught the overhead light. how close you were.

his mouth went dry. he was about to ruin this. he was about to absolutely ruin this.

“i, uh,” he started, and immediately wanted to jump out the nearest window. “i have… tickets.”

you blinked. “tickets?”

“to iron maiden. they’re playing next month. i mean—” he cleared his throat, tried not to look directly at your collarbone, “i just figured, like, if you and your boyfriend wanted to go—”

you laughed. soft. amused. “he’s not big on iron maiden,” you said, tugging gently at your top again. “but you seem to be.”

megumi flushed so hard it felt like his brain was melting. “yeah, i— i just thought… i have two. so if you wanted to go. or—if you had someone you wanted to take. i'm not, like… attached to the tickets or anything.”

he was spiraling, and he knew it, but you were still smiling, biting your lip, tilted slightly, eyes amused in a way that made him want to scream into a pillow for the next decade. you looked at him like he hadn’t just embarrassed himself in 4k. like maybe he was kind of… cute.

“are you asking me on a date, fushiguro?”

he stopped breathing. his heart stopped beating. eyes wide. ears hot. he stared at you like a deer in headlights.

“…no?” he said, voice cracking somewhere in the middle. “i mean—maybe? i don’t know. whatever you want it to be.”

and for a second, one suspended, shining second, you just looked at him. really looked at him. and then smiled, wide and pretty and full of something almost like interest.

“hmm,” you hummed. “well, if it is a date… i’ll have to check my schedule.” and then, because you were cruel, and he was already on the verge of dying, you touched his arm. just lightly. just enough.

and megumi, poor hopeless megumi, thought he might actually fucking faint. meanwhile, yuji, across the room, pumped both fists in the air, but megumi didn’t see it. he was still staring at the place where your hand had been. he’d remember this night for the rest of his life, and it hadn’t even really started yet.

and he shouldn’t have said it. he really, really shouldn’t have said it. he should’ve just let the conversation end when you touched his arm, but it came tumbling out of his mouth anyway, low and nervous and awkward as hell—

“i’m not, uh—i’m not scared or anything,” megumi mumbled, fingers twitching around his empty cup, “but is sukuna gonna beat my ass for… taking you?”

he meant it to be kind of light. jokey. ironic. but it came out sounding exactly like what it was—completely, utterly sincere. and he braced for it. the shift in your expression. the look. the oh no, he’s one of those guys face.

but you just smiled, tilted your head, amused, like you’d been waiting for him to say something like that.

“well,” you said, tapping your fingers against your thigh, “i don’t think he has to know that.”

megumi blinked. “huh?”

you slipped your phone out of the tiny back pocket of your shorts, screen already lighting up in your palm. you tapped something fast, thumbs flying like muscle memory, and then turned the screen toward him to put his contact information in.

he stared. then looked at you. then back at the screen. then at you again. his chest felt tight and too small for his ribs, like someone had opened him up and dumped a cup of warm soda in the cavity behind his lungs.

“you—” he cleared his throat. “you want me to put my contact information in?”

you grinned. “unless you want me to forget this whole thing ever happened.”

“no!” he blurted. then winced. “i mean. no. i don’t.”

you slid the phone into his hand and turned on your heel, and megumi, still standing in your kitchen like a kicked puppy in a band tee, looked down at the glowing screen in his hand, and promptly forgot how to fucking breathe while fumbling with the keyboard.

and when he handed it back, it was maybe five seconds before you were already halfway toward the door.

“i’ll text you,” you called over your shoulder, sing-song and smug. ��unless you’re scared of that too.”

you walked away after that. someone called your name, maybe a friend, and the music surged again, swallowing your laughter as you disappeared down the hallway.

but megumi just stood there. frozen. dumbstruck. still holding his empty red cup like it was anchoring him to the floor. his heart wouldn’t calm down, his palms wouldn’t stop sweating, and his shirt suddenly felt two sizes too hot.

she smiled at me. she smiled at me. she fucking smiled at me.

his whole brain had compressed into that one impossible moment. his number in your phone. your voice in his ears. your fingers brushing his arm like it was no big deal, like he was someone to touch.

he was still in a daze when yuji popped into view like a gremlin in a hoodie.

“okay, so. wow. i really thought you lost it there a couple times, but—” he clapped a hand to megumi’s shoulder, grinning like a maniac, “you did it.”

megumi blinked, mind still reeling, heartbeat still rattling in his chest like a fucking bird trapped behind glass. “i think i just asked sukuna’s girlfriend on a date,” he said, voice thin with shock.

yuji didn’t even blink. just whooped like he’d won a goddamn raffle and tugged hard at megumi’s arm. “that is really great, bud, but let’s get the hell outta here because he just came back downstairs and i swear one of his friends just pointed at you.”

megumi’s stomach dropped.

“what?”

“doesn’t matter. run.”

and so they bolted. full-on sprinted out your front door like a pair of idiots in denim and adrenaline. shoved past a couple of seniors at the door, skidded down the front steps like their lives depended on it—because they probably did. megumi didn’t even think about it. didn’t look back. just clutched the half-empty bottle yuji had somehow swiped off the counter and ran like the house was on fire.

by the time they made it to megumi’s car, breathless and laughing, hearts still racing for very different reasons, he could barely feel his hands. he dropped into the driver’s seat, mind still halfway in your kitchen, when his phone buzzed.

[unknown: twinsies?]

paired with a photo of your bed, comforter rumpled, pillows slightly askew, and right in the center, an iron maiden shirt. the same kind as his, actually. he stared at the photo. then down at his own chest.

same shirt. same band. same dumb, aching feeling in his chest that had haunted him for years.

and he didn’t answer right away, just leaned his head back against the seat, grinning like an idiot, letting yuji babble beside him about how that was the most insane shit he’s ever seen.

and megumi? he just sat there, heart still pounding, thinking—maybe he wasn’t completely invisible. maybe the universe wasn’t entirely cruel. maybe he was just a teenage dirtbag.

and maybe, so were you.

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