valnt1na

[valnt1na]

in which toji has a panty kink

toji’s not right in the head about you, everyone knows it. especially you.

the second your panties hit the floor, his hand is there. snatching them up like a fucking animal. he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. just shoves his whole face into the crotch, the part that’s still warm and wet from you, and takes these huge, ragged breaths. his eyes are rolled all the way back, just white showing, a low growl vibrating in his chest. he sounds like a fucking dog with a treat. his treat.

he’s a creep for it. a total fucking degenerate. you’ll be trying to nap and you’ll feel the couch dip. then his big hands are prying your thighs apart just enough to shove his nose right up against your shorts. he doesn’t say a word. just starts inhaling, deep and desperate, his hot breath soaking through the fabric. he’ll grind his face against you, nose digging into your clit through the cotton, groaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. and he’ll stay there for like, twenty minutes. just breathing you in. getting high on it.

he jacks off with them. like, all the time. you’ve walked in on him in his chair, his pants around his ankles, his dick in one hand and your dirty panties in the other. he’ll have the gusset stretched over his nose and mouth, his chest heaving, and he’s just going to town on himself. using your slickness as lube, his fist sliding all over his shaft. the room just smells like sex and you and him. it’s nasty. he’ll catch you watching and his eyes just get darker, his strokes get meaner, like he wants you to see how much of a pervert he is for you. he’ll cum with a choked-off grunt, cum shooting all over his stomach and the fabric, and he’ll just sit there panting, your panties still stuck to his face.

he takes them with him. stuffs a pair in his pocket before he leaves. probably stops in some alley to press them to his face and get a fix, thinks you don’t know.

he’s a creep. a disgusting, obsessed pervert.

and he’s all yours.

[valnt1na]

jock! sukuna getting turned on by shy! reader being confident / fluff, smut, suggestive, MDNI ➜ a/n : I'm having too much fun with the idea of opposites attract tropes. pls bear with me. also first time trying to write smut, so necessary fluff first ₍^. .^₎⟆ ➜ 1.6k words

I'm imagining jock! sukuna, one of the most aggressive and feared players on the court. Sometimes people, both the student section and his fellow teammate alike, wonder how the hell he's still allowed to play and represent the school.

While there's no strict dress code, he'd definitely breaking some kind of rule with the dyed pink hair, which while sounding almost cute, perfectly juxtaposes his immensely toned body covered in all kind of ink.

Sukuna isn't just aggressive, he's straight up mean. During a game, he's constantly snarling and glaring down the other team. When he's walking down the main halls, everyone knows better than to make direct eye contact with him. He's not an awful person, sure. He doesn't bully or make fun of anyone, but he's so intimidating that it's hard to be in his presence. It also doesn't help that he isn't known for a good temper at all.

But despite of these unwritten rules that people have against him, one is shared unanimously amongst all students in the university : do not, by any circumstance, made his sweet, shy girlfriend feel anything other than happy.

He's never been physical (at least proven to be). In fact, Sukuna's once told you how playing sports growing up was his release, and being on the college team allows him to get out all that aggression.

You're not widely known around campus. Sure, people see you walking around the commons. Sometimes you've got your headphone on, walking around like the world is everything but yours. You get good reviews during group projects, and teachers love your more down to earth personality.

So when it came out that Sukuna and you were a thing?

Hell must've frozen over.

And when people saw you and him at your favorite campus spot, a little pavilion surrounded by trees and benches placed about? It was the topic of everyone's conversations for days.

What no one would expect, even you, was how much Sukuna loved the way everyone was walking about it, about you two. No, it wasn't because he liked being the center of attention (unlike his white haired, blue eyed frat mate). He honestly dislikes the idea that everyone talks about his business, but he's not too bothered since he doesn't really like people anyway.

The true reason why he loves when people talk about him and his relationship? It's because that's when he sees that rare glimpse of your personality that doesn't always surface up.

Sukuna adores you, so much so that he hates how he can't express it in words. Even when you two were just friends, he always felt some kind of obligation to be protective towards you. Sometimes the guys on his team pull his leg, asking how he's able to be with someone so saccharine sweet and timid. He loves that about you, but he especially loves when you decide to put up a confident, strong attitude out.

It first happened when you two were on a date. You both were in a nearby cafe, just outside the campus. It wasn't extremely busy, just some other students studying or catching up on their classes.

One moment, Sukuna is listening to you talk about your day. The next, he notices that you've trailed off your rant, and looking blanking at something behind him. He turns around, and he realizes that a small group of students were just looking at your table.

It doesn't take a genius to realize that they were talking about Sukuna, with the way they were looking him. He's used to this. From all the rumors out there, these were his least favorite. The ones where people say that he doesn't deserve someone like you. Because, well, he kind of believes it. He hates it, and knows that he really doesn't deserve someone so untainted by the world. As Sukuna goes to glare at the table, he gets a whiff of you pass by him, walking straight towards the group.

"I don't know who you are, and you sure as hell don't know us. So why don't you guys stop judging me and my boyfriend, and focus on your currently-blank document that's probably overdue."

Sukuna watches are you walk back to your table, take a seat, and go back to talking about the ducks you saw walking across campus.

All the white his heart is beating faster, his ears almost as pink as his hair, and pants a bit tighter.

He never brought up what happened, since it had been two weeks since then. Maybe there was some extra caffeine in your drink? Or was one of those people in the group a shitty group project partner you had? Sukuna almost believe that he had imagined what happened, had not the scene happening in front of him unfold.

It was another day of practice. People weren't usually allowed to watch these, but the team (and the coach) have been perfectly fine with you hanging out. Whenever you were there, the number of Sukuna related injuries seem to decrease. You mostly kept to yourself, aside from the occasional small talk to the team. Everything was in well balance. That was, until Takuma decided to tease Sukuna.

"Damn dude, how did you pull her? Scare her into a date?" Sukuna throws the basketball straight towards his head. Takuma barely misses. This was basically everyday during practice, so Sukuna has become somewhat desensitized to it, for the most part.

You, on the other hand, had no clue about the teasing. Your boyfriends rarely talks about the guys, so you assume that he was genuine being mean to him. Hell-fucking-not.

You're still looking at your computer, typing away on your assignment. A new sense of confidence that was not previously there spreads throughout your veins.

"Scare me into a date? No, not really. But at least he's got a girlfriend."

You could hear a pin drop in the gym. A ball is rolling away in the corner, and the guys are all wide eyes from your comment. Did you, the girl who apologizes to doors when you walk into them, make a quip? All the while, you're still working on your homework, not looking up.

Had you looked up, you would've seen Sukuna taking deep, labored breaths. Holy shit. The adrenaline that fueled him during practice has subsided, and now all that's left was a very bothered, very horny Sukuna.

Before you brain processes everything, you're find yourself being dragged out of the gym, Sukuna in front of you holding your things, with his teammates either yelling at him about practice not being over or whistling his way.

"'Kuna- wait, where are we going?"

He doesn't answer, but you gaze down and see his very prominent hard on poking from his basketball shorts. Blood rushes to your face, and you've suddenly become aware of what was happening.

"s-shit, 'kuna! please, slow-slow down!" your voice breaks off, and is hard to understand what you're saying. Shit, you don't even know what was coming out of your own mouth. All you knew was that Sukuna was slamming his hips at the right angle, his cock bullying his way into your sweet pussy.

You let out another sob as Sukuna adjusts your position, your legs dangling behind his head. Despite your head being all fuzzy, you remember being thankful for the fact that his roommate are still all at basketball practice, or you would have to never face them again.

His mouth finds yours, pulling you into a sloppy, messy kiss. His tongue bullies it way through your lips, and he's successfully dominated yet another part of you. Sukuna is everywhere- his scent all over you, his bulging biceps pulling your impossibly closer than you already are. It felt good, so damn good, but what got him in this mood?

"Fuck, sweetheart, you don't know what that does to me, d'ya? My sweet, shy girl being all confident, standing up for me?" He buries himself deeper with that last word, hitting that spot just right. His large hands go to palm your breast, fingers expertly flicking your nipples.

"Love- fuckin' hell- love it when you get all worked up for me." He growls against your neck, before leaving bites and kisses along your sweet spots. Mental reminder: get Sukuna to buy you some concealer to cover up the marks he's leaving.

You can feel yourself getting closer, and Sukuna knows this too. His moves his hand down below, thumb barely grazing your clit. A high pitch whimper escapes your mouth, and it takes all your willpower not to come right there. "Kuna, please- Was just standing up for you!"

A dark laugh comes to of him, before followed by a genuine soft smile. You're too sweet for your own good, that Sukuna has to withhold himself from eating you right up.

"Go ahead and let go f'me, baby. You've earned it. Go ahead, good fuckin' girl". Your hips stutter, and the knot in your stomach snaps. Pleasure and ecstasy flow throughout your body, with Sukuna skill rubbing circles on your clit, cock still pistoling in and out of you.

He holds your body close, as you start to go limp. "Atta girl, I gotcha. Good girl, fucking love you so much".

Soon after Sukuna finishes himself, pulling off the condom before going and cleaning you up. He carries you into the bathroom, being careful to clean around the areas he's marked you on.

A few hours later, you're both in (a now clean) bed. Sukuna's got you on top of him, cradling your body against his. You're drifting between conciseness, but you swear you hear what Sukuna says.

"Love when you get all confident. Nice to see, but I think I just like everything about you". You know that he only admits this because he thinks you're asleep, so you keep your eyes close and sleep soundly with a soft smile on your face.

a/n : again, first time writing smut I tried !! I hope y'all enjoyed <3

@deserteddreamscape 2025 - do not copy or translate my work

[valnt1na]

♡ girly!reader gets bf!gojo's initials on her nails .ᐟ

⌗ smut ⌗ 700 mdni! ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

gojo knew that you loved taking care of yourself. getting your hair done, getting your nails and lashes done, spa days, shopping for new clothes... and he was more than willing to pay for it. after all, he could afford it, and that's how you ended up with his card information on your apple pay.

the best part, though, was when you'd show off the things you got. doing fashion shows for him that made a tent form in his pants within minutes; you always loved starting your fashion shows with something provocative, making him feel needy and filled with want.

"'toruuu, i'm homeee!" you called out in a saccharine tone; one that meant 'i spent the day spending your money'. gojo let out a small, amused huff as he put down his ipad and sat up straight on the couch, and what do you know, his sweetheart walked in carrying countless shopping bags. "someone went shopping." he grinned. you dumped the bags on the ground and made your way to him, satoru's arms already open as you sat yourself in his lap, your arms around his neck, "well, i missed you while you were at work 'n i know you wouldn't want me to be sad." "that's true."

you brought your lips down to his, one of your hands cupping his jaw while the other ventured into his white hair, satoru's hand squeezing the flesh of your thigh as you moved your lips against his teasingly.

when you pulled away from the kiss, there were some remnants of your cherry-flavored lip gloss on his lips, and you wiped it off with your thumb, "you wanna see what i bought?" you raised your brows teasingly, "does the pope wear hats?" satoru grinned, making you roll your eyes.

after countless of slip dresses, lingerie sets and short skirts, there was a clear bulge in satoru's pants, his legs spread shamelessly and a cocky grin on his lips, the man pulled you into his lap, and you ground down on him teasingly, satoru's breath hitching. "thank you for the fashion show." your boyfriend mumbled, pressing a kiss to the valleys of your breast, "i also got my nails done." you giggled, "wanna see?" "of course."

you grinned, holding out your left hand. at first, looked just like regular nails, painted in a pretty soft pink, until satoru reached the ring finger; in it, painted in white, were the letters 'S.G'

satoru's cock twitched in his pants at the sight, a smirk on his lips. "you shouldn't have done that."

and before you could even question what he meant, satoru had you straddling his lap, one of his hands tightly grippng your hips, slowly guiding you up and down on his cock, while another was holding your left hand up to his lips.

"so pretty..." satoru mumbles breathily, his bright blue eyes half-lidded, his soft lips pressing kisses on your fingers. you let out a whine at the painfully slow pace you felt his cock stretching your walls out, feeling every ridge invading your slick walls. "toru..." you tightened your grip on the shoulder of his unbuttoned button-down. "n-need more..."

satoru snapped his hips up, the force at which the head of his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you making you let out a pleading moan. slowly, his hips lowered back down to the couch, and satoru opened his mouth, first giving your finger tips the smallest kitten licks until they got greedier, all his attention on your fingers while also continuing to move you up and down on him.

his pink lips opened, satoru greedily sucking your middle finger and ring finger into his mouth, fully unaware of the agony and ache he was putting you through, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

when your fingers were knuckle deep in satoru's mouth, his hips thrust up into you once again, making you let out a yelp. satoru slowly slid your fingers out of his mouth, letting go of them with a wet pop!

as you detached from his neck straightened up, satoru turned his head to face you, brows furrowed at the look of discomfort on your face, "sweetie? what's wrong?"

the only response he got was a needy whine.

[valnt1na]

in which your husband toji has a huge thing about you being his wife

the thing about toji fushiguro—the real, unvarnished truth that no one gets to see but you—is that his obsession with you being his wife isn't sweet. it isn't about cute pet names or showing you off at some boring company party. it’s primal, it’s filthy. it’s the cornerstone of his entire fucked-up existence.

it hits him at the weirdest times. you’ll be doing something utterly mundane, like reaching for a cup on the top shelf, the hem of your shirt riding up to expose a sliver of skin above your pajama pants. and he’ll just… stop. from across the room, his gaze goes heavy, dark, predatory. he’ll watch the line of your body, the domestic ease of you in his space, and something in him just… snarls with possession.

that’s mine, that’s my wife.

he gets off on the paperwork. no, seriously. he has that stupid marriage certificate locked in a safe that’s probably worth more than everything else in the apartment combined. sometimes, after a particularly shitty job, he’ll come home smelling of blood and city grime, bypass you in the kitchen, and go straight to the safe. you’ll hear the click of the lock, the rustle of paper, and then his heavy sigh. he’s not looking at it for the legalities; he’s looking at your name, written right next to his. a permanent brand. a claim that even he can’t fuck up. it calms the beast in him like nothing else.

the ring is a whole other thing. he spent an obscene amount of money on it, not because it was flashy, but because it was strong. the band is thick, practically indestructible platinum. he likes the weight of it on your finger. he’ll be fucking you, his pace brutal and unforgiving, and he’ll drag your left hand up over your head, lacing his fingers through yours just so he can feel that cold metal bite into his own skin with every thrust. a constant, grinding reminder that you’re tied to him. when he cums, it’s with a guttural groan against your neck, whispering “my wife” like it’s the dirtiest word he knows.

and he loves using it.

“make your husband dinner.”

“come warm your husband up.”

it’s never “me” or “toji.” it’s always “husband.” he’s reinforcing it, for himself more than for you. every time he says it, he’s marveling at the fact that someone like him gets to have this. gets to have you.

his protectiveness isn’t noble, it’s not chivalrous. if he even gets a whiff that someone looked at you wrong, his mind goes to the darkest places. it’s not about defending your honor; it’s about defending his property. the thought of another man’s scent on you, another man’s voice in your ear, makes him see red. he’d break every bone in their body without a second thought, not because they disrespected you, but because they dared to touch what belongs to him. and afterwards, he’d come home and fuck you raw, his hands shaking with residual adrenaline, needing to smell like you, taste like you, to cover up the violence he just wrought in your name.

the most lowkey, nasty thing? he loves your smell on his sheets. he’ll go away for a few days on a job, and he refuses to wash the pillows. he buries his face in them, in the lingering scent of your shampoo and your skin, and it’s better than any drug. it’s his anchor. the only thing that smells like home is you.

in his mind, you’re the only clean, good thing he’s ever managed to keep. and his way of worshiping that goodness is by dragging it into the gutter with him, by making sure you’re just as obsessed, just as claimed, just as filthy and his as he is yours. being toji’s wife isn’t a title. it’s a full-body brand, and he makes sure you feel the burn every single day.

he’s a possessive, obsessive bastard. and the fact that you are legally, spiritually, and completely his wife is the biggest, most constant turn-on of his entire life.

[valnt1na]

Bedchem!

ft. chem nerd nanami

A/N: credits to @all-with-angel and @prosypepper for volleying this idea back and forth in the gc HEHE

Nerd!Nanami who’s your chem tutor. Reluctantly. Because the professor asked, and he’s constantly stressed, but he’s nothing if not a good student.

Nerd!Nanami who loves chem, and you just can’t understand why. It’s the worst kind of academic torture. Endless balancing of equations and acids smelling like they’re gonna dissolve your will to live. And labs. God forbid someone talk to you about those ugly goggles and know-it-alls in the front row asking questions just to hear themselves talk. The only tolerable part of the whole ordeal is the fact that Nanami sits in front of you – crisp shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms, notes all neatly spread out, that infuriatingly smooth voice that somehow makes ratios sound.. bearable. You hate that he sits in front of you, that his hand looks really good just fiddling with his pencil, that his hair always looks like he combed it just for you. You tell yourself you can’t stand chemistry, but you’re starting to suspect you just can’t stand how much you like looking at your tutor.

Nerd!Nanami who’s the best in the department. The kind of guy who makes stoichiometry sound like a bedtime story, all composed and clean-cut and calm. Except for when he isn’t. Except for when you grab the ruler off the desk and tap the board with it as you try to explain something back to him, fumbling over the electron configuration with your brows knit and a pout tugging at your bottom lip.

Nerd!Nanami whose composure cracks in the most humiliating way when you do that. Semi-hard before he even realizes it, pulse ticking in his jaw as his eyes track the ruler in your hand like it may as well be your panties.

Nerd!Nanami who almost loses it when you light up after solving a problem on your own. You’re so proud and excited and you turn to him with that bright, expectant smile, looking for his approval like gospel. And all he can do is nod stiffly because if he opens his mouth, it won’t be praise that comes out. It’ll be a groan, low and shameful, from how badly he wants to bend you over the desk and fuck you until your enthusiasm’s completely soaking through his slacks.

Nerd!Nanami who swells (literally) with pride when you tell him your test scores have skyrocketed since he started tutoring you. You’re beaming, swinging your legs under the table, so sure he’s about to say something all formal and encouraging. All he can think about is how you’re thanking him for helping you study when, in his head this entire time, he’s been imagining thanking you with his mouth on your cunt. He knows you’d be sweet. So fucking perfect, just like you always are.

Nerd!Nanami who stares at you with wide eyes and flushed ears when you steal his glasses, sliding them onto your face and pushing them up your nose with one finger like you’re mocking him. You giggle, teasing, and his hands twitch with the urge to grab you – to pin you against the wall and fuck you slow, hard, until you can’t even remember what oxygen is, much less mock the man who taught you what it did.

And he’d leave the glasses on the whole time.

Just to see them slip down your pretty, fucked-out face.

[valnt1na]

TILL SLEEP DO US PART ! gojo

𝐒UM : gojo thought asking you for sleepy sex might get him divorced. Turns out, you're just as freaky as him—maybe worse. Now he’s the one clutching his pearls while you ruin his life lovingly.

ᯓ➤ 𝐂W : somnophilia (consensual), free use dynamics, smut, married life, established relationship, oral sex, riding, powerplay, slight sub!gojo energy, overstimulation, clingy and horny reader, crack + filth

ᯓ➤ 𝐀/N : bouncing on it crazy style as I post this

Gojo Satoru was nervous.

That in itself should’ve been a warning sign—Japan’s strongest sorcerer, the six-eyes wielder, infinity user, exuding cracked-up confidence on a daily basis—was nervous. Fidgeting in your shared bed, twisting the sheets, waiting for you to finish your nightly routine. And when you finally came out, clad in just your oversized tee and sleepy smile, he nearly backed out.

But no, the man’s got balls. Platinum ones.

So he blurted it out. “Babe… hypothetically, if I were to… maybe… wanna touch you when you’re sleeping? Not in a creepy way! Like, lovingly. Like a very loving husband with… uhhh, needs. And consent? Hypothetical consent?? Would you think I’m a sicko?”

You blinked at him for a solid three seconds. He braced for a pillow and divorce papers thrown at his face, maybe few flying curses and a kick in the balls too . . .

Instead, you crawled onto his lap, cupped his cheeks, and said, “Satoru, baby. You can use me anytime you want. Sleep, shower, lunch break—I don’t care. In fact… I’m gonna need the same deal.”

He blinked. “Wait—what?”

And thus began the "Free Use Treaty of Holy Matrimony."

At first, Gojo’s the one taking advantage of it— slow grinds against your ass in the middle of the night, his cock slipping into you with practiced ease while you’re half-asleep, lips barely parting to moan his name. He kisses your shoulder and whispers, “Just needed you, angel. Go back to sleep.”

And oh, he thrives.

Until you outfreak him.

You’re worse.

Like the time he’s just lounging on the couch watching TV in sweats, relaxed, lazy smile on his face… until you wordlessly crawl between his legs, tug his pants down, and start giving him the sloppiest blowjob of his life.

He chokes on his own spit. “H-Holy shit, baby—! I was just watching news—wait—oh fuck—”

And the bathroom?

He’s brushing his teeth, just vibing… and you’re behind him, rutting against his towel-clad back like a damn cat in heat.

“Babe?”

“Don’t mind me.”

“You’re literally—” he gags on his toothbrush “—humping me like a dog—”

“You started it, Satoru.”

“…I’m hard now. We need to finish what you started.”

The worst (best) moment?

He wakes up on a sunny morning, dazed, drooling a little, only to realize you’re already on top of him. Riding him slow and deep, his hands limp at his sides while your palms rest on his chest.

You look down at him with the softest, sinfully sweet smile, “Morning, baby. I made you breakfast.”

And he’s just blinking at you like you’re a goddess and a demon rolled into one.

“You’re insane. I love you. Please don’t stop.”

Now he’s the one being caught off-guard. Colleagues are like “Why does Gojo look like he just got spiritually reborn every morning?” Nanami’s suspicious. Ijichi looks traumatized. Utahime wants to punch him just for grinning too much.

He walks into work with that post-nut clarity glow, humming like a Disney princess, casually texting you:

“Miss you already 😢 thinking about this morning 🥵🥹 love u angel 💙 want seconds tonight <3”

Gojo is a happily married man. That man is blessed, obsessed, and oppressed—and he would never have it any other way.

[valnt1na]

🜼 ⋆ first time fratbf!choso learns you can squirt, he can’t seem to stop abusıng your cunt.

he doesn’t find out because of porn or bragging—he finds out by accident. you’d been grinding on him during some dumb afterparty in his room, shirts sticky with cheap beer, your laughter muffled in his throat when his thumb brushed over you too roughly through your shorts. you’d been teasing him, calling him “baby frat” under your breath because he never actually partied like the rest, and he’d retaliated with this clumsy, desperate pressure between your thighs. the sound you made—it wasn’t your usual.

sharper, shocked, cut off halfway like you didn’t even know it was coming. then suddenly you were wet, soaked beyond reason, dripping down his forearm before you shoved him back and gasped, wide-eyed, face burning.

he stared at you like he’d unlocked a secret level. and that was it. from then on, choso couldn’t stop.

in the days that followed, he cornered you in ways that weren’t even normal boyfriend things anymore. in his car parked behind the frat house, hood pulled low so no one would glance in, fingers pumping you open until your thighs trembled against the dash, until you slapped at his wrist and begged for him to slow down. he’d grunt, “just one more—just once more,” even though it was never once. the seatbelt strap was damp by the time he was done, your voice breaking as liquid gushed against the leather.

he’d lick his knuckles after, shaking, pupils blown, muttering how fucking crazy it was that you could do that for him, only for him.

then in his room, on a wednesday when nobody was supposed to be around, he’d drag you onto his mattress, sheets already stained from the night before, and refuse to let you up. it wasn’t mean exactly, but it was relentless. his hands shaking while he spread you wide and made you watch the mess splatter across his comforter, moaning through his teeth every time your stomach jumped under his palm.

he’d push your hand down, press it against the swell just above your pelvis while he shoved his cock deeper, whispering in that gravelly, half-ashamed voice, “feel that? that’s me—fuck, that’s all me—” until you were sobbing and shaking your head. the headboard banged so loud the guys in the hall teased him for days, but he didn’t care. didn’t even answer back.

by the weekend, it turned into something darker—an addiction that made him clumsy in public. his arm slung over you at a mixer, his lips against your ear: can we leave? just for a second? promise it won’t take long. dragging you into the bathroom, locking the door with fumbling hands, and pushing your panties aside just to chase it again.

his face between your thighs this time, nose pressed hard into you, drinking down everything while you gripped the sink for balance. he’d hum against your cunt when you sprayed over his tongue, messy and shaking, the sound so deep and satisfied that it made your stomach clench all over again.

he wasn’t fratboy-smooth—he was needy. pathetic. every time he made you squirt, it rewired him. his shy loser pride burned hotter. he’d whisper about it later, in your ear when you were falling asleep, about how no one else could ever have this from you. how you were made for him. his knuckles were bruised from jerking himself off when you weren’t around, frustrated because it wasn’t the same unless he could see it, feel it.

and maybe the most shameful part? he started keeping count. muttering numbers under his breath, holding up his fingers to mark every gush he forced out of you until you smacked his chest, whimpering that you couldn’t do it anymore.

he’d smile, crooked and exhausted, but still keep pushing, still rut into you with that low groan of your name, until his sheets, his hoodie, his skin—everything smelled like you. until your body felt wrung out and trembling, his loser pride swelled huge in his chest: my girlfriend. mine. mine.

[valnt1na]

⋆˚࿔ au!nerd!neteyam x female!reader headcanons !

a/n : uhm, hello, hi, don’t mind me, just here to dump a bit of au!nerd!neteyam because he has plagued my very thoughts :

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who immediately freezes mid-note-taking when you walk into the classroom, pen paused above his paper, eyes tracking your every step without realizing it. He’s cataloging the way you tuck a lock behind your ear, the pretty curve of your smile, the way light shimmers on your lip gloss. Lo’ak has to nudge him under the desk, whispering, “Bro, you’re staring.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who will do your homework without question, slipping it into your folder before you even ask. He tells himself it’s “because you’re busy,” but really? It’s because he can’t stand the thought of you stressing over something so small. If anyone teases him about it, he mutters, “She just… has better things to do. Important things,” like you’re royalty and he’s your sworn academic knight.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who is a top tutor in half the school’s advanced classes, but when you sit next to him and lean in so close he can catch your addicting fragrance, asking for help, his brain simply stops functioning. The words are there… somewhere… but they’ve gone on strike. Lo’ak tells him after, “She literally called you smart, dumbass. She’s into you.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who studies your strengths and weak spots in class like they’re his own personal research project. When he explains something in a way that finally clicks for you, he catches the exact moment your brows ease and the way you start beaming, and it’s like the sun comes out just for him. He hides his smile behind his palm as he nods at you when you start explaining it back to him.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who short circuits when you sweetly murmur, “Thank you, Neteyam,” with that fucking smile that feels like it’s just for him. He forgets what the hell you were even working on together, blinking like you’ve just hit him with a some enhancement or something.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who keeps extra browser tabs open during class or project meetings “just in case.” You need a source on 18th-century trade routes? Boom, already open. You mention something about botany? He’s got a scholarly PDF ready. He pretends it’s coincidence, but it’s not.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who accidentally info-dumps about his culture, rattling off stories his grandmother told him, meanings behind traditional beadwork, hunting techniques from his family’s home region … all in this quiet, earnest tone. Halfway through he realizes he’s rambling and stumbles over his words, but you’re still looking at him like you’d listen forever.“Sorry, I’m rambling.” —“Don’t be. I like it.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who finds excuses to walk you to class. He tells himself it’s “on the way” (it isn’t) or “because he’s got something to give you” (it’s always a new pencil picked out of his meticulously placed ones or your favorite snacks).

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who subtly memorizes your coffee order after overhearing you at the café when you both stopped by since you were paired up for a project, and the next week casually slides it onto your desk before you can buy it yourself. “You looked tired,” he gently utters, not meeting your eyes.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who tries so hard to act cool when you talk to him in front of your friends, but later Kiri catches him smiling to himself, features flushed, mumbling, “She laughed at my joke.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who freezes like a deer in headlights when you show up unexpectedly while he’s in the middle of explaining a some equation to Spider. His train of thought derails so hard Spider just stares at him and goes, “…Bro?”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who is the only one who stands up when you enter the room, like some old-fashioned gentleman. Lo’ak groans every time, “Sit down, man, she’s not a visiting queen.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who catches you laughing at one of Lo’ak’s dumb jokes and immediately jumps in with some obscure fact to try and keep your attention on him. Lo’ak notices every time and calls him out for “academic flirting.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who is hyper-aware of every laugh, every time your voice drifts down the hall of his house when you come to study with Kiri. Kiri will “accidentally” leave her bedroom door open just to see her brother glance in and trip over his own feet.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who pretends he’s just “passing through” the kitchen when you and Kiri are baking cookies, but somehow he ends up helping you reach the flour from the top shelf and his brain is screaming about how warm your hand felt when you brushed past him.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who is fucking mortified when Kiri calls out, “Stop looking at her like that, Teyam, she’s gonna notice!” — and you do notice, but the little smile you give him just about knocks the wind out of him.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who gets called out by Kiri constantly. “You’re staring again, nete,” she’ll whisper during lunch. Or, “You blinked for the first time in five minutes, should I be worried?”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who always notices the details of how well-known you are — the way people part to make space for you in the hall, the constant chorus of “hey y/n!”s when you walk into class — but what gets him is that you always take the time to wave at him, even when you’re surrounded by your friends.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who pretends to be reading when you’re talking to Kiri in the living room, but he’s 100% listening to your stories, filing away every little detail like it’s classified intel. Later, he’ll work those details into casual conversations so you think he’s just “really good at remembering things.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who doesn’t know what to do with himself when you compliment him. “You’re so smart, Neteyam. You make this look easy.” He only laughs awkwardly, rubs the back of his neck, and can’t stop thinking about it for days.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who offers to drive you home when Kiri’s busy or your ride falls through, and Jake tells him to be a gentleman before giving him access to the car. He won’t admit it, but he’s fucking sweating down to his ass crack the entire time, hands gripping the steering wheel just right, trying to play the perfect playlist while sneaking glances at your profile in the passenger seat, and you manage to ease his hammering heartbeat.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who quietly watches you from the bleachers at school events when he thinks you won’t notice, whether it’s a sports game, a pep rally, or even theater night. He’s not into crowds, but he’s into you.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who once caught you napping during study hall and was so preciously protective over the sight that he actually moved his chair slightly to block other people’s view of you and propped his fluffed up folded hoodie beneath your head.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who has a timid, half-hidden smile every time you mess with him in a playful way — taking his pen, poking at his arm, stealing his hoodie. He acts like it’s a mild inconvenience, but he’s secretly over the moon that you’re comfortable enough to do it.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who has been hopeless for so long that Lo’ak, even his little sister Tuk, but especially Kiri started keeping a mental list of all the times he’s slipped up around you — from blushing too hard to forgetting his own name during introductions.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who notices your mood the second you walk into a room. Happy? His chest feels lighter. Tired? He’s already digging out his bag or offering you his hoodie. Upset ? His brain immediately scrambles to “how do I fix this” mode.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who makes excuses to linger after group projects end, packing up his stuff slower just to walk out of the classroom at the same time as you.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who stares a beat too long when you’re speaking to him or anyone close, not because he’s zoning out, never when it comes to you — but because he’s memorizing every feature; the light in your irises, the twist of your grin, the pout of your lip, the way your expression contorts when you’re passionate about something.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who is so hopelessly soft for you that even your smallest gestures feel grand — a quick wave in the hall, remembering his favorite beverage and bringing it when you come over to his house to hang out with Kiri, calling him “Teyam” instead of his full name.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who will stand there holding your bag while you fix your hair or dig through your locker, trying not to smile like a fool at the fact you trust him with your things.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who still feels the rims of butterfly wings rapidly flapping in his tummy when your shoulder gently presses against his, or your knee bumps his thigh under the table — even if it happens ten times in one class.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who stashes little things in his backpack “just in case you need them” — planners, hair ties he took from Kiri, gum and candy, a phone charger, even things tied to your menstrual cycle.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who has a rough idea of when your period starts because it often overlaps with Kiri’s, thanks to how much time you spend together. He didn’t mean to keep track — it’s just… you two get moody at the same time, raid the kitchen for chocolate together, and watch comfort movies in the back of the class huddled together.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who starts quietly stocking his backpack with extra pads/tampons, painkillers, and a chocolate bar or two around “that time” of the month, just in case you or Kiri need them.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who notices when you’re shifting uncomfortably in your seat or your hoodie sleeves are pulled over your hands for warmth. That’s when he’ll casually slide his cardigan toward you, insisting for you to take it for the rest of the day.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who once offered you and Kiri heat packs for cramps, and Kiri instantly called him out like, “You’re weirdly prepared, big brother.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who tries to hide his “prepared for everything” bag from Tuk, bless her, but one day she pulls out a pack of pads and loudly goes, “Why do you have these?!” in front of everyone. Kiri smirks, Spider snickers, Lo’ak practically falls over, and you just… smile tenderly with a head tilt.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who becomes the victim of an unholy alliance between Lo’ak, Kiri, Spider, and even little Tuk — they’ve started making bets on how many seconds it’ll take for him to get flustered once you’re around.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who is so obvious that Spider once whispered to you, “You know he’s in love with you, right?” when Neteyam was out of earshot. You just grinned and didn’t answer, which drove Spider crazy.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who can’t even enjoy a normal movie night because the second you sit on the floor in front of the couch (close enough for your shoulder to brush his knee), Lo’ak leans over to Kiri and mutters, “Three… two… one…” and right on cue, Neteyam completely forgets what’s happening on screen.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who tries to maintain his composure around you, but every single one of them — from Tuk to Lo’ak — has caught him smiling stupidly at his phone after you text him something small like “thanks for helping with that assignment :)) have a good night, teyam”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who tries to keep it together when you’re over, but Jake sees right through him. Every time Neteyam suddenly volunteers to “help you carry that” or “walk you out,” Jake just smirks and mutters under his breath, “Uh huh… sure, kid.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who gets the look from Neytiri when you laugh at something he says — that knowing, mom look that’s equal parts fond and teasing. Later, she’ll casually say, “You speak very confidently around her, son,” and Neteyam will get all downright flustered like, “No, I don’t!”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who nearly passes out inside when Jake offers you a drink or snack before he does, because now his dad is setting the bar for how to treat you.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who is so obvious that Jake motions to his other kids at the dinner table and whispers, “Your brother’s down bad,” when you compliment Neteyam’s cooking.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who can’t even eat dinner in peace because you’re sitting across from him, and every time you talk, his eyes flick up from his plate. Neytiri notices every single time and has to hide her smile.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who suffers through Jake asking “casual” questions about you later — “So… does she have a boyfriend? No reason, just curious.” — while Neytiri smacks her husband’s chestand scolds, “Leave him alone.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who will pretend to be super casual about you being around the Sully home, but Jake will absolutely tell him — just joking around, “If you don’t ask her out, Lo’ak will, and you’ll never forgive yourself.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who dies a little when Neytiri invites you to stay for dinner without even checking with him — and then serves your favorite meal like it’s no big deal.

˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who panics the first time you ask if he wants to hang out outside of class or study sessions or with his siblings lurking behind like creeps, because in his head, this is dangerous territory — this is “date” territory. Lo’ak overhears and immediately shouts, “Bro. Say yes before I say it for you.”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who actually rehearses what he’s going to wear for your first “non-school” hangout, changing his shirt three times until Kiri walks past his door and goes, “You’re literally dressing up for my best friend. It’s obvious. She’s gonna know.” And he just hugs his pillow and groans.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who ends up taking you home after that hangout, the streetlights hitting his face in a way that makes your stomach twist — he’s looking at you with such warmth and affection. He hesitates before saying softly, “You make me really happy, you know that?”

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who doesn’t confess in big gestures, he does it in the middle of a class or at the library when you’re chuckling at some absurd, nerdy comment he made that leads and connects to him blurting out he likes you. And when you just blink at him for a second before beaming and saying you return his feelings, his ears burn so hot he can’t help but look away.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who can’t stop smiling like a FOOL for the rest of the day, to the point where Lo’ak and Spider keep yelling “STOP LOOKING SO GROSSLY HAPPY” every time he walks into the room.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who starts holding your hand casually — first in quiet moments, timidly slipping his fingers through yours, then in public, like it’s second nature. It’s not flashy or performative, but it’s attentive and loving, like he’s promising without words to be there for you.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who still does your homework sometimes, but now he makes you sit next to him so you “at least watch the process,” which usually ends with you distractedly kissing his cheek or resting your head on his shoulder while he types.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who kisses you for the first time after you thank him for walking you home — soft, hesitant, like he’s asking a question with his lips and only relaxes when you kiss him back just as lightly.

⋆˚࿔ nerd!Neteyam who ends every study session by making sure you have a meal, your water bottle filled, and your — HIS jacket zipped before you leave, smiling like he can’t believe he’s really yours.

⋆˚࿔ And nerd!Neteyam who, months later, still catches himself staring at you like he did in the very beginning — intent gaze following your silhouette when you walk into a room — but now, instead of looking away bashfully, he just smiles so openly. Because now, you’re smiling back.

….. nerd!Neteyam supremacy :33

[valnt1na]

. ☘︎ ݁ ˖ choso is such a loser !

loser!choso who was well known for being an absolute simp for you — walking around covered in hickies, avoiding every girl who tried to talk to him, always following you around like a puppy — he worshipped you like you were a god, and you were the only being he would so willingly follow.

loser!choso who is so awkward and quiet around you — stammering every time he talks, words tumbling out uncontrollably until he just shuts up and sits there like a flustered mess. he gets so shy and embarrassed when you flirt with him that it’s almost pathetic seeing how hard he’s trying to hide that obvious tent in his pants.

loser!choso who obliges with all your requests, too down bad to say no to anything you demand from him. he would get on his knees the moment you speak to him, would obediently sit if you told him to, would lay flat on his back without resisting when you straddle him, and would turning into a whimpering mess under you as you rode him.

loser!choso who moans way too loud, letting out whiny, breathless sounds that make him sound so desperate. he’s so pathetic that he’ll beg you not to stop touching him even when he’s overstimulated. “how pathetic, cho. look at you falling apart like this.” you would tease, bouncing on him effortlessly while every drag of his cock against your gummy walls sent his consciousness to another dimension.

loser!choso whose face turns red when you call him a “good boy” or when you tell him how “pathetic” he looks when he’s all needy and desperate for you. whether it’s praise or degradation, they both ruin him in the same ways and he can’t get enough of it — mainly because it’s from you. he tends to bury his face in your neck or chest during sex because he’s just too shy to look at you in the eye.

loser!choso who has to be told what to do. his hands would hover like he wants to grab you, but would be too shy to. he would be hesitant to go any faster or harder even when you tell him to because he doesn’t want to hurt you, always asking, “you sure? what if i—“ he would stammer. “just fuck me harder already, cho.” and you didn’t need to tell him twice before he was rutting into you like an animal in heat.

loser!choso who cums too quickly and apologises way too many times but gets hard again just as fast because he can’t not want you. the next thing you know is that he’s dicking you down so good that it has you clawing his back — leaving scratches, and maybe even drawing blood. the way his tip kisses your cervix with every rough slam of his hips has you screaming his name loud enough to announce to the whole world that the biggest loser they knew was a winner when it came to fucking you this good in bed.

loser!choso who is a natural when it comes to aftercare. you don’t need to tell him to do anything this time, because he already has a warm towel ready to clean up the mess you both made, showering you with kisses and love, making sure you were okay after a rough session. he was just the sweetest, most pathetic boyfriend ever and you could never ever get enough of (teasing) him.

© lucidsei

[valnt1na]

nerdjo’s glasses slip down his nose as he stares at you between his knees, mouth already running even while you’re bobbing on his cock.

“fuckkk, that’s so good—shit, wait, did you know that like… most guys only last like five minutes with head? which is, y’know, kind of embarrassing considering the male refractory period—”

his words stutter when you swallow around his tip, spit dripping down your chin. “ohhh god, okay, yeah, that’s—fuck—that’s definitely less than five minutes for me.”

your tongue presses under his tip and he whines, still running his mouth.

“ahhh—shit, baby, did you also know semen actually has, like, fructose in it? it’s literally nature’s energy drink—ohhh fuck, your tongue—wait, wait, don’t stop—” his whimpers comes out shaky, hand twitching like he wants to push your head down but can’t decide if it’s rude.

you take him deeper, throat tightening, and he slaps a shaky hand over his mouth, eyes rolling back behind his lenses. he tries to muffle a moan but it comes out anyway, high and desperate.

“o-okay, okay, uh—s-science says sucking dick releases oxytocin—hahh, f-fuck—bonding hormone, y’know? so technically, we’re like… getting closer right now.”

you hum around him in agreement and he gasps, words spilling faster. “shitshitshit, baby, you’re—fuck, your throat’s so warm, you’re making me cum—ahhh, oh god, wait, I’m serious, I’m—”

he breaks off with a choked moan, cock twitching as he shoots thick cum across your tongue, still babbling about “increased intimacy” while you swallow every drop.

nerdjo...hahahah.... nerdjo save me...

[valnt1na]

clueless choso is really obsessed with his girlfriend ⋆ mdni — 18+ 𐙚

cw. perversion, filming/photos, somno, panty sniffing, choso having 0 relationship social cues

choso is such a pervert.

you can’t fault him for it, he doesn’t know what he’s doing is wrong. taking photos of you while you sleep next to him, so soft and pliant… so vulnerable. his brain tells him he’s allowed to do this. you are his girlfriend after all, so why not, right? he’ll move the covers off your body, lift your shirt up over your tits, and snap photos just so he can ogle at them later. sometimes, he’ll wrap his mouth around your pebbled nipples and suck on them while you moan softly in your sleep.

when you’re on a call together, he can’t help but stroke his cock at the sound of your pretty voice while you’re rambling about your day. he doesn’t even bother holding back his whimpers and when you realize what he’s doing, you roll your eyes and whine, “chooo, are you even listening to me?”

and he’ll moan, head thrown back as he needily thrusts into his hand, “i-i’m listening, p-princess, fuck. keep talking, ‘m almost th-there.”

not only that, but you notice how your panty drawer dwindles– many of them gone missing over the past few months. you think maybe your washer ate them or maybe you’ve misplaced them in a haze, but you remember your innocent perv of a boyfriend.

when you ask if he knows anything about them, he shakes his head vigorously— eyes widened like a dog who got caught with a bag of treats. “uh-uh, but i can buy you some more. you were in need of some new ones, anyway. some of your lacy ones were starting to fray.” he lies, afraid you’d get mad. how could you? he’s so clueless, so adorable ♡

you cock your head and smile knowingly, “huh, how’d you know, baby?”

he reddens immediately and stumbles over his words while you giggle, peppering his face with kisses, mumbling ‘perv’ after every mwah.

you don’t mind. you find his obsession with you endearing. 

you know he’s got a special album on his phone dedicated to pictures and videos of your body, most of them taken without your permission. and when you’re alone… your fingers toy with your throbbing cunt imagining the breathy pleas and the begging and those little whimpers he makes every time he opens the album. you let him keep the panties. sometimes you’ll leave them behind as a little present every time you leave his place. you know the second you walk out of that house, he’s bringing the pretty lace to his face and needily milking his cock wishing you would come back and take care of him.

you live for it– his innocence, for the fact that he doesn’t know he’s in the wrong– you get off on it.. you think you might be the real perv in this relationship.

© all works belong to SLUTURU 2025. do not copy or repost.

[valnt1na]

sylus has this habit of always keeping his necklace on when he fucks you, and god, you find it so fucking hot—especially when the chain dangles against your skin and sometimes swings up to your face, where he either bites it between his teeth with a low growl or impatiently tosses it back over his shoulder before slamming into you again, hips snapping mercilessly into your soaked pussy, his cock stretching you open raw and deep until you’re clawing at his back and crying his name.

he looks so damn good above you, white hair sticking to his forehead, sharp eyes locked on the way your greedy cunt sucks him in like you’re made for his cock, his voice low and rough as he mutters, “so fucking tight for me,” before grinding in deeper just to watch you lose yourself—your whiny, broken moans only spurring him to fuck you nastier, faster, chain clinking while he drills into your guts, the obscene squelch of his cock plunging in and out of your messy hole filling the room until you’re choking on your cries and he’s snarling against your lips, promising to keep you stuffed with him until you can’t walk.

inspired by this tweet !!

© luvsaes

[valnt1na]

୨୧ ˚⊹ first time with rafayel!

rafayel x virgin!fem reader, established relationship, unprotected sex, i need him biblically

you’d been kissing for what felt like hours. soft, deep, slow, the kind of kissing that left you lightheaded and aching, every inch of you trembling from how careful he was being. like you’d shatter if he touched you any harder, like he wanted to devour you whole, but was forcing himself not to.

rafayel’s hand was splayed over your lower back, warm and steady. you’d barely touched him yet, not really. and still, you were burning—thighs pressed tight around nothing, panties soaked through, lips parted and swollen from how long he'd been kissing you. every inch of you was wound tight with want, but he held you there, unmoving, as if having you pressed to his chest was its own kind of pleasure.

“you’re shaking,” he murmured against your mouth, voice barely a breath.

you gasped, trying to move your hips, but his hands caught your waist. “please, raf—”

“shh,” he whispered, gentle but firm. “don’t rush. just let me feel you a little longer.”

he nuzzled your cheek, kissed the bridge of your nose, your jaw. then just held you there, sitting open and needy in his lap, the heavy press of his cock pressed beneath you. you could feel the throb of him through the thin layer between you. hard, hot, big. the kind of size that had you wondering if your body could even take him. maybe he knew that, and that's why he was being so devastatingly careful. like if he touched you the wrong way, you’d vanish.

“i think about this too much,” rafayel whispered against your skin like a confession. “how good you’ll feel when you open up for me.”

“you'd take me, wouldn’t you?” he continued, his thumb brushing lazy circles just below your navel. “you’d let me stretch you open?”

“uh huh,” you hiccuped, already breathless, thighs clenched around him.

you were already bare for him, legs spread across his lap. his shirt off, yours somewhere on the floor, your underwear soaked through and peeled to the side. he moved one hand down, sliding between your thighs with a deliberate slowness that made your whole body arch. and when he found you, wet and trembling, his breath caught.

“fuck,” he whispered, eyes fluttering closed. “you’re soaked, sweetheart. i haven’t even touched you yet.”

his fingers didn’t push in, didn’t even circle. he just rested them there, barely moving, like the heat of you was enough to ruin him. like he wanted to remember how it felt, this first time. how soft and flushed and ready you were.

“we’ll go slow,” rafayel promised, voice raw. “i’ll make it good for you. so good.”

you felt the first gentle stroke of his fingers. just once, slicking through your folds. then, without warning, his sinks a finger in slowly, so slowly it makes your breath catch. he eases in a second, working you open with a worshipful hunger that sends a thrill straight to your core. you sobbed, full-body and desperate.

“oh, baby,” he whispered, like he was in awe. “don’t cry. you’re perfect. i’ve got you.”

his voice dropped lower, like sin wrapped in silk. “you’re just aching, aren’t you?” another soft stroke. “all filled up with nothing.”

you nodded, frantically. he kissed you again, filthy this time, tongue and teeth and heat, your moans caught in his mouth. you were so overwhelmed, trembling with how much you wanted. how warm his hands felt on your skin. how much care he poured into every motion, like he couldn’t believe he got to touch you like this at all.

his fingers were soaked. he spread your slick across your aching folds with unbearable care, circling your clit with the gentlest touch, over and over, until your hips were twitching up into his palm.

“you’re making such a mess,” he crooned, kissing just under your jaw. “this pretty little cunt’s just dripping for me, huh?”

you whimpered, high and helpless, nails digging into his shoulders like that might somehow ground you. his lips trailed lower, slow kisses down your throat, over your collarbone. he reached your chest and didn’t just grope, he worshipped. cupped your breast in one hand, kissed the other like it was something sacred. sucked soft at your nipple, groaning when your back arched into him.

“you want me inside?” he breathed, tongue flicking over your skin. “think you’re ready, baby?”

you were soaked, throbbing, your whole body begging for him. “yes,” you gasped. “please, raf, please—”

he shifted above you, carefully, cradling the back of your head like you were breakable. his hips moved forward, the thick weight of his tip nudging at your entrance.

your breath hitched. he was hot and heavy, the blunt head of his cock barely pressing in, stretching you with the slightest pressure, and already, your body tensed with the ache.

he held himself there, just barely inside, unmoving. waiting. his forehead pressed to yours, lips brushing your own. “deep breath, baby,” he murmured. “it’s just the tip. you’re doing so good.”

his hips rocked forward the slightest inch, just enough to push deeper, to draw another gasp from your chest. your spine arched in response, thighs twitching around his sides like instinct. your cunt was gripping him, velvety and soaking, stretched wide around that impossible girth. every ridge, every twitch of him pressed to the softest parts of you. heat bloomed deep in your belly like a bruise being kissed into place.

the weight of him inside you was staggering. every inch he gave you felt like it rewrote something in your body. your walls pulsed around him, struggling to take more, and yet wanting it, aching for it, the way lungs ache for air.

your nails pressed into his back, searching for something to hold onto. his mouth hovered near your cheek, brushing warmth over your skin with every shuddered breath he took. you were wet enough to hear it, that slow, molten slide of his cock coaxing its way in. and still, it felt impossible. your body didn’t know what to do with him, had never held anything like this.

“you feel that?” he whispered, nosing along your jaw. “feel how deep i am already? and i’m not even halfway, baby.”

your breath caught. another push forward, and you felt it hit something deeper, that place inside that made your legs jerk and your throat tighten around a whimper. he stilled, panting softly against your shoulder, grounding you again.

your cunt clenched again, hard. it made him groan, made you whine. it felt like your body was sucking him in, desperate, needing. and still he moved slow, so slow, sinking in deeper as your muscles pulsed around him in surrender.

“that’s it,” he breathed, praising you with every breath. “such a good girl. lettin’ me in so slow. stretchin’ so pretty for me.”

the praise didn’t land in your ears so much as in your chest. it bloomed under your ribs, settling somewhere deep, where your pulse couldn’t tell the difference between fear and pleasure. you were stretched taut, cunt clenching involuntarily, the ache delicious and dizzying, every part of you tuned to where his cock filled you, inch by careful inch.

he bottomed out with a shudder, cock seated deep inside you, and everything went quiet. for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. couldn’t think. you were just so full, stretched wide and gasping, every muscle fluttering from the sheer pressure of him. you clenched around him again, instinctively, helpless, and his jaw locked tight like it took everything in him not to move. he was shaking above you, breathing ragged into your skin.

you whimpered, your legs wrapped around his waist to keep him close, not that he was going anywhere. his hands were firm on your hips, thumbs smoothing over your skin, trying to soothe you both. you felt wrecked already, and he’d barely moved.

“too much?” he asked, voice barely a whisper, even as you shook your head before he finished the words. “tell me what you need, angel.”

“i’m okay,” you breathed. “need you to move, raf. please.”

a tremor ran through his body, and then he pulled out before sinking back in with slow, deliberate force. you moaned, high and trembling, eyes fluttering shut. it was so deep. too deep, too much, and yet not enough. your body couldn’t decide. your walls tightened, clinging to him greedily, even as your thighs trembled from the effort of keeping yourself open for him.

he kept up the slow pace with careful, gentle thrusts. not hard but steady, like he was still testing your limits, still giving you time to adjust and still barely holding himself back. each drag of his cock rubbed against something unbearably good inside you. it made your back arch, your mouth part, little whines spilling out uncontrollably.

“god, look at you,” he moaned softly, watching every twitch and flutter of your body. “so sweet. that tight little pussy's holding me so good.”

you were trying to answer, trying to thank him or ask for more or just breathe, but the words all dissolved somewhere between your parted lips and the fire low in your belly. your thoughts were melting, every coherent thing washed away by the slow grind of his hips and the thick heat of him inside you.

he pressed his forehead to yours, breath heavy and hot against your lips. “wish you could feel what i feel. you’re squeezing me so tight. i’m gonna lose it if you keep looking at me like that.”

you couldn’t help it. your eyes were glossy, mouth swollen from his kisses, your whole body open and aching for him. every slow thrust sent a ripple through your thighs, your belly, your heart.

each stroke was smooth and full, dragging slick and warm through your walls, pressing into the parts of you that made your toes curl and your breath catch. you could hear how wet you were, how your heat welcomed him in every time, sweet and messy and perfect.

“you’re so good for me,” rafayel whispered. “so fucking pretty like this. all spread out and dripping. letting me fuck you open, taking it so well, baby.”

you whimpered, trying not to cry from the sheer overwhelm of it. you’d never felt so full, so bare. so cherished and ruined all at once.

the rhythm stayed steady, but your moans didn’t. they were growing louder, breathier, sweeter with every thrust, until they broke apart into needy, high little cries that made his hips stutter. you didn’t mean to, you weren’t trying to push him, but it was as if your body was speaking for you. arching up into him, pulling him deeper, greedy and frantic despite how slow he was still moving.

“raf—” you gasped, clawing at his shoulders. “more. more, please.”

a choked groan fell from his lips as his hips jerked with a need that echoed yours. you felt the shift in him—the control fraying, slipping through his fingers. he was trying to hold on. trying so hard to be good for you.

the sounds in the room were obscene. your slick, the wet drag of his cock plunging into you, your needy little gasps and his wrecked moans, all tangled into something raw and dizzying and perfect. you were wrecked, gasping and sobbing his name between whimpers of please and don’t stop and feels so good, every word tangled with want.

you sobbed his name, body arching into him, eyes glossy and unfocused. you sounded like you were coming apart under him, like he was the only thing keeping you from floating away.

“i know,” he groaned, barely holding himself together. “i know, baby. you’re taking me so well. so fuckin’ perfect for me. never felt anything like this.”

he sounded wrecked, like he was drowning in you. his voice was thick with heat and disbelief, every word unraveling between praises. “your pussy’s got me losin’ my mind. fuckin’ made for me. feels like heaven, baby. so soft, so warm—fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

you were too far gone to speak. you just cried his name, again and again, your body shaking as the pleasure built like a tidal wave. his praises never stopped. like he had to say them, practically bursting out of him. your body was coiled tight, every muscle drawn and trembling, the heat inside you swelling fast and hard like it couldn’t hold any longer.

rafayel felt it in the way you clenched around him, how your moans cracked and pitched into sharp, high whimpers, your legs trembling where they wrapped around his hips. “ohh, baby,” he panted, face buried in your neck. “that’s it. that’s it, i got you. just let go, let go for me.”

you hands scrabbled for purchase, digging into his shoulders like he was the only thing anchoring you. white heat exploded through you, shattering everything. you came with a cry, back arching up off the bed as your cunt clamped down around him, tight and fluttering, soaking his cock in a wave of hot, helpless release.

he groaned deep in his chest, felt it, like your orgasm ripped through him, too. “oh, fuck—fuck, you’re milkin’ me, baby, i—”

he didn’t last a second longer. one more pulse of your cunt around him, one more cry of his name, and he snapped. he buried himself deep, his tip kissing your cervix as he came hard, spilling inside you with a low, shaking moan. he held you close as he painted your walls with every last drop, your name a reverent chant on his lips. he trembled above you, chest heaving, one hand braced by your head and the other scooping you up by your waist like he couldn’t bear not to be touching you.

“you’re perfect,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “so perfect for me, baby. you did so good.”

you blinked up at him, vision blurry, lips parted. your whole body felt numb, boneless and oversensitive and wrecked in the most perfect way. the ache between your thighs was sweet, deep, and dizzying. you whimpered, barely able to breathe.

he cradled your face in both hands now, brushing the wet hair from your cheeks, his thumb sweeping slow under your eye. “you okay?” he asked softly, nuzzling your noses together. “talk to me, sweetheart.”

you nodded, eyes glassy. “yeah. yeah, i just… wow.”

he smiled—melted, really—and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. your thighs twitched around him. he was still thick inside you, still stretching you, but you didn’t want him to move yet. he rocked into you just once, slow and deep, making your breath catch.

he let you fall into him, arms around his shoulders, forehead resting against his chest while he whispered all the things he didn’t have the breath to say before. “so beautiful,” he murmured. “so sweet. you were perfect, baby. took me like you were made for it.”

you buried your face in his neck, dazed and warm and aching, as he kissed your hair.

“i love you,” he said, soft as a secret. “so, so much. my perfect girl.”

you stayed tangled in the heat and sweat and softness, still joined at the hips, your bodies humming with afterglow, too wrecked to speak and too in love to need to.

thank u sooo much for all the love on my last two posts ♡

[valnt1na]

the real reason why his wallet is so precious to him 18+

One of Nanami's most precious belongings is his wallet. It’s old and worn, the stitching fraying at the edges, but he insists on using it because it was a gift you had bought him on your first anniversary.

He never lets it out of his sight — his hand instinctively pats his pocket to check for it every time he moves. That wallet is the first thing he checks for when leaving a place, and the last thing he sets on the nightstand before bed.

It has a clear plastic slot on the right side, and tucked inside are two photographs. They’re his favourites — although only one sees the light of day. From time to time, when the long hours at the office wear him down, he finds his hand drifting to that wallet, absent mindedly pulling it free just to look at you.

“Oh my gosh, your girlfriend is gorgeous!” One of his colleagues is peering over his shoulder, eyes wide as they fix on the photo of you. She’s one of those nosy interns, and she talks more often than he would like.

Normally, he hates discussing matters of his personal life with coworkers. He strongly believes in keeping work separate from his private life, but the corners of his lips can’t help but curl up at the mention of you. “She is, isn’t she?” Instead of snapping his wallet closed, he tilts it toward her to give her a better look.

“It’s not often I see men so dedicated to their girlfriends, you know,” she says brightly. “How cute!”

“Thank you,” Nanami replies with a polite smile, already angling his body towards the bathroom. To her credit, she catches on quickly. She coughs, straightening her posture, “oh right— I'd better get back to my desk! Sorry for bothering you, Kento.”

He watches as she leaves before standing up and making his way towards the bathroom, finding an empty cubicle and pulling out his wallet once again with a sigh. It is a great picture of you, one that he had taken in fact, your smile bright and warm as you posed for the camera.

He flips open his wallet, pulling out the first film to reveal his other favourite one, tucked away underneath. It’s another one of you, from the same night. But instead of the sundress you’re wearing in the first picture…

Well. You’re not wearing much of anything.

You’ve got the same smile, the same sparkle in your eyes. But your hair is mussed, sprawled across the hotel sheets, completely bare. Your legs are lifted and held open, fingers curled behind your knees to keep yourself spread for him. The angle leaves nothing to the imagination, your heat glistening and swollen from how badly you’d been wanting him.

He’d hesitated of course, saying it was risky, the camera hovering uselessly in his hands. The idea of capturing something so lewd, so vulnerable of you was as reckless as it was intoxicating. But you’d only smiled wider, a teasing lilt in your voice as you told him to take it. Just keep it well.

So he did. With a flush that seared his cheeks, and his pants strained tight against his thighs, he clicked the camera. Now, both sides of you that he loves, stay tucked away in the folds of his battered wallet. Evidence of your shameless devotion for only his eyes to indulge in.

And that’s why he can’t afford to lose it.

masterlist | arranged!marriage nanami au | ex-boyfriend nanami au

[valnt1na]

༄ duke nanami having his meal (you) on the dining table

your backs pressed against the cool polished wood of the table. all the elegance and furnishing of the room surrounds you but duke can't seem to be bothered.

the entirety of his focus between your legs. he eats like he's hungry, gentlemanly manners temporarily forgot as he feasts. sucking and flicking your little clit. fucking his tongue into you're drippy entrance with vigour — till all of the sudden, all at once, he pulls away.

a swing of saliva connecting his lips to yours. nanami watches her with lidded eyes, their usual honey brown darkened; his chest raising and falling, and his fingers digging into your thighs and the fabric of your uniform skirt thats bunched around you, fanned out on the wood beneath you.

you lay still, thighs quivering a little from pleasure and being held open so long. kento runs his knuckles over your folds, collecting some of the wetness dripping from you on them. "you're grace... please. i-i can't"

he strokes you like that softly for a long moment. without looking up to you, nanami squeezes on of your thighs, "just a little more." and then he leans in again, mumbling hoarsely against the delicate skin, "you can take it."

slipping two fingers along your tight entrance before breaching it, soothing that slight sting from the stretch with kisses to your clit.

"lay back for me"

your back arches against the table, goosebumps cover your legs. you try resisting the need to wrap your legs around his neck, but you can't for long.

"enjoy this" the sound of his mouth on your are obscene, tuning you tomato red in embarrassment as they echo in your ears. kento doesn't seem to mind, if anything he want you louder.

if he cannot marry you because of his title than he'll make sure he can at least love you right. that he can make you feel good. as seriously as he takes his duties and responsibilities as duke, you are always first amongst them.

your toes curl and your head falls back; effectively caging him between your thighs as high pitched moans spill endlessly from your kiss-bitten lips.

"ahhh~ your grace"

"say my name." because just as the rest of him is, it is yours.

"nanami, fuuu," you bite your bottom lip before the words get out, calling him by his last name — all of this and yet you still never stray from formality.

kento speeds up his fingers, curling them just right the way he knows you need him to. fucking them into you with a steady pace that never falters. even when you begin to fall apart (again)

the hand at your hip holding you down moves to find your, interlacing his fingers with your and squeezing.

your muscles tighten, so so close. dark blonde brows furrow in concentration to get you there and in a. attempt to keep himself from cumming in his trousers.

" 'm gonna cum!!"

your shaky hands tangle in his well kept hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you, trying to ground yourself while completely overwhelmed by the pleasure. with a cry of his name, your releases pours into his mouth, spraying over his face like a delightful reward.

nanami watches you, biting back the three words that could ruin it all. sprawled out and messy on his dinning tables. your legs shake and glisten with sweat, little marks on them form where he might've been holding you too tight.

he pulls a handkerchief from his chest pocket, using it to wipe you clean, gently running it along the sopping folds he has his mouth on only a short moment ago. folding it neatly when he's done and shoving it right back into his pocket. for safekeeping.

you sit up on the table, breath still ragged. your face sweaty and red, waiting. unsure what the next appropriate step is.

kento grabs another clean handkerchief from off the table, using it to politely wipe his face, one hand firmly planted on your thigh. he catches your staring and holds your gaze when he, ever so casually says "thank you for the meal."

standing up from his wooden chair and helping you down form the table. you pat down the skirt of your dress, making yourself look presentable again and try to stand straight, silently begging for you legs to quit trembling when a knock comes from the other side of the heavy doors.

"your grace, if you aren't still.... preoccupied; your guests are here, they await you in the drawing room, my lord."

nanami asf

[valnt1na]

your husband, nanami, finally got his lick back ✧ ୨୧ - check out part one

→ afab!reader, overstimulation, crying/begging, nsfw

already two rounds deep, kento doesn't want to stop.

just like you didn't want to stop and let him finish last night, he'd rather stay just like this -- your legs over his sturdy hips, back pressed into the kitchen table. the perfect distraction from his dinner and book.

he's nestled inside of you, loose, blue work shirt unbuttoned and hanging off his shoulder as delicate beads of sweat roll off his chest. it slides down the rippling skin, getting lost somewhere in the kept patch of hair ghosting the most sensitive part of your thigh -- his cock pulses twice inside of you, ripe with overuse.

kento isn't sure he's seen you cry so much, but you're sobbing under him, writhing on the table, over his dinner, with arms stretched above your head. scratching and desperate for feeling, he's sure he'll have to buy a new table come a new day.

"once more," he whispers, dragging a hand to your quivering lower stomach. he presses his open palm against your hot skin, and the new sensation has you crying moans and shedding tears so fat, you could source your own waterway by now. "then i will let you rest."

"c-ca-can't!"

"you are okay," he reassures, golden stare so holy and comforting when he stares you down through the fog of your mind. "focus on me. my eyes, look." he snaps, making sure your pupils are focused on him. "it's just the third round, i've seen you do five."

"five?!" the little strength you have goes to raising yourself pathetically on your forearm just to get a better look at him between your thighs. swallowing down wetness, you can't find it in you defy. you let your husband wash over you. "mm,"

"there you go..." he muses, hand trailing down to your wrecked cunt, dripping slick, staining the table -- staining the floor. he slips his fingers against your clit, the sensation sending a flood of pins and needles through your core all the way to your heart.

you curse, but it eggs him on. he fucks into you twice, each hollow and strong, bruising your skin a new shade of red.

kento's doesn't finish -- he's milked dry, but you cum the hardest he's ever seen you. stiff as a statue, muscles pulled tight, and eyes stuck open, you cry like you're trying to expel something out of your throat

then, it starts, that sweet reassurance: "okay, lets get you up,"

you wish you were mindful enough to be able to respond, or at least help kento when he takes you back into his arms. but, being numb like this -- full-bodied and jellified in the most capable arms ever, you don't want for your mind. all you need is feeling.

[valnt1na]

Wife giving husband nanami a handjob and edging him until he cant take it anymore…. what who said that??????

pushing your husband, nanami, till he's right on the edge ✧

→ f!reader, edging/teasing, begging, nsfw

you can't see anything. kento's got you pressed to the shower wall, trapping you to the dampness with one hand planted to the side of your head. it's fairly late, and he's so tense that he could snap with one wrong move.

you're not making it better. in fact, kento would say you're making it worse.

hand wrapped around the girth of his cock, you're whispering in his ear, thumb tracing across the angry, red tip. "you're so hard, love... just from my hand?"

he grunts, open palm turning into a fist as he bucks into your touch. he leans forward, head falling onto your shoulder -- overcome and barely able to stand after twenty minutes on this same, cruel carousel. he doesn't even know what you're doing, or how you're doing it, but he's so close yet so far.

he needs to fuck you - that's what it is. kento is spoiled. "have to... inside of you..."

"just a little longer."

if you could see his face, you'd almost feel bad. his features squeeze up like he's in pain -- full body, scalding pain. he needs release.

he breathes out something adjacent to a growl, bucking up into your hand in short, easy thrusts. you wish you could peek between your bodies and see the way his cock jumps and cries for you. he's so pretty down there -- so sensual and perfectly kept that you can't help but worship the thought of it.

you press your hips into his so he can feel your heat, fingers concentrating at the mouthwatering vein on his underside. he's so sensitive there, here -- everywhere. it's like his skin is on fire. his moans actually break into cries.

"please! don't d-do this..."

"do what? i'm getting you off, kento. you didn't have to ask."

"i can't! can't... finish like this, you're not giving me a chance." his tone is wrecked, so high up in his throat in a drawl you haven't heard since he came inside of you for the first time. now, it's the millionth time of this, and if you knew he'd crack from a bit of edging sooner, you'd have turned him out years ago.

"my baby..." you whisper, kissing over the shell of his dripping ear. your free hand winds over his strong back, clawing over the tense muscles, core shaking and needy for him. "mm, I love you like this."

"yeah?" he finds it in himself to respond, taking that minute distraction for your tugs to slow before taking you by the shoulder, pushing you face-first against the humid stone. as soon as your hand falls from his aching length, his hand takes over, pinching at the base to keep himself sane. "I love you like this."

and the second he parts your thighs and slips his cock inside of your eager hole -- his hand is tightening on your waist, breath hot and heavy in his lungs, he finishes immediately, singing your name in the back of his throat.

and that feeling of being flooded from the inside out hits you like a semi-truck, making your knees give at the sudden intrusion and rush of pleasure.

twenty minutes of edging? no problem -- kento will always catch you when you slip.