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Oh my goodness no words at all

sub simon idea (maybe, idk): him having such a hard time appreciating himself or even admitting that there is something about him that someone could appreciate. he just doesn’t feel like it cpuld ever be the case. so naturally he gets edged until he praises himself enough. just him gasping and whining about how pretty he is, how reliable, how strong until he finally, finally gets that orgasm his body has been burning for.

(and as a bonus he gets cooed at softly while he cums, the compliments are just making him shake harder)

ANGEL (Sub!Ghost x Dom!GN!Reader)

crow’s masterlist

authors note; i am alive, i am back. you can thank black ops 7 for getting me to write this. enjoy. listen to angel by massive attack for full effect. 1.6k words.

[warnings; sub!ghost, self deprecation, implied edging, handjobs, orgasms, angst, fluff. ghost has issues.]

Simon has a love hate relationship with your mind and determination. He appreciates your hard working attitude, your ambitious nature, and your discipline; but fucking hell, he did not expect for you to be mad at him when he kept making negative remarks towards himself. Simon’s always doubted himself; sure, he talks himself up during banter, but there’s a lot of moments where Simon doesn’t believe he could be… enjoyed. Loved, maybe is the word.

He doesn’t expect you to take that as personal as you seemingly do. 

“Fuh-fuck.” Simon gurgles out, fireworks going off behind his eyelids. You’re mean, you’re so fucking mean and he can’t handle it. His fingers curl into the sheets below, his other hand grasping your wrist. His legs feel like fucking jelly and his cock is so hard, it hurts. He calls out your name in a shaky tone as your hand slowly strokes his slicked cock, wet with your spit and his pre-cum. You meanly press your thumb to the underside of his dick right under his tip, pressing against the sensitive spot you know is there.

It earns you a choked out moan and his hips spasming upwards, electricity shooting through him from the base of his spine. Your eyes trail over his body; his pants and boxers are pulled down to just above his knees, his shirt and jacket pushed upwards over his pecs, the fabric gathering up near his neck and collarbones. His belt clinks with every movement, his balaclava pushed up over the hooked part of his nose.. As your hand runs down the wet skin, your thumb pressing against a prominent vein in the process, you absentmindedly think that maybe next time you should tie his wrists with his own belt.

“Say it.” You utter; the phrase, no, command is simple. Can Simon follow through and be obedient is the question. Can he? Simon breaths out harshly as your hand curls around the base of his dick, squeezing deliciously. He can hear the squelch of the fluids mixing. Fuck. He knows what you want from him—you want him to say something positive about himself. You want Simon to value himself the way you do.

Problem is, he can’t. Simon hasn’t been able to do so in a while. He has moments where he feels good, but he has more moments where he feels bad. Gross and undeserving. Unfortunately, that’s most of the time. It’s not like he particularly enjoys being mentally cruel to himself; quite the opposite. Simon just ends up going down a rabbit hole where his brain won’t shut up.

His lips press together and open a few times as your other hand caresses the inside of his big, hairy thigh, fingertips tracing an adductor muscle. Despite feeling hot all over, it sends a cold shiver up Simon’s spine, urging his back into an arch. Simon knows you aren’t continuing, not until he even murmurs self praise. You’re mean and cruel and he hates this. It’s oddly… embarrassing, to some degree. Being unable to say something nice about himself. 

You pull Simon back to reality with another squeeze, earning a grunt and his leg kicking out a little. “Fuck.” He mutters, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows harshly. His belt clinks as his leg twitches. “Say it.” You repeat yourself, your tone sporting an edge to it. 

Simon thinks about it; if he does this, you’ll let him cum. You’ve edged him twice now—you both know he can handle much more, but he isn’t sure how long you’re willing to draw this out without letting him cum. He isn’t interested in knowing. His dick hurts and his balls fucking ache like hell. Simon knows better than to play these games—but his mind.. It isn’t cooperating.

He doesn’t see the point in praising himself. What good will that—”You’re still thinking, hm? Thought good boys know how to shut up and listen.” You mutter, gently dragging your nails across the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, dangerously close to his scrotum. It drags a delicious spine tingle and shuddery gasp from the big man underneath you.

Simon swallows hard, his head turning to the side. Your hand leaves his thigh, reaching up and grabbing his jaw and turning his head back to you. His eyes meet yours for a moment, a breathy noise leaving him as your fingers skim across the stubble across his jaw that’s grown over the past day and a half. Your presence makes him feel.. Small. Embarrassed and weak. He hates it one second, loves it another. “Wait–” Simon groans as you give his cock a little stroke, leaning down and spitting on his length in order to keep it wet. You hand curls around his base again—God, it’s so fucking possessive. It makes Simon so warm inside.

“Let me see all of you. Maybe then, you’d understand.” You breathe out, your fingertips slipping under the balaclava, pausing. He knows that you’re waiting for his permission—his go ahead to expose him. Simon’s cock twitches in your palm as his mind connects the dots and he nods to you, his eyes locked onto your lips that twitch into a satisfied smile of approval, a smile that makes him warm. You peel off the balaclava, putting it aside before he feels your fingers running through his blonde hair. 

Simon shudders; you’re so gentle. So good and so meaningful with it. You’ve always had a way with your actions, speaking words without actually talking. Every touch, he never has had to doubt. Your intentions have always been so clear with him—to love him, to care for him, to get Simon out of his prison of a mind, to just be on Earth with you, even if it’s just for a few minutes of pleasure.

That’s what is what convinces Simon. Not your words, but your smile. Your gaze, your touch. The silent “i love you”s that are imprinted in every finger pressed to his overheated skin. He has days where he wonders if you’re even human because surely there’s no earthly explanation for a blessing like you to want a curse like him.

Simon feels the familiar bite of emotion welling up in his chest, tight and biting into his heart like vines. Instead of choking it down, he knows you’ll handle his prickled heart with much more care than himself. He hands you the reins. “I-I’m.. Good.” Simon utters, his tone guttural and raw as his eyelids flutter; your hand starts to slowly jerk his cock as a reward, making him spill his dam. “I’m strong, I’m.. fuuh–fuck, I’m fuckin’ handsome, a–and–” He babbles, not knowing how to praise himself.

You swoop in like always. “Mhm, the hottest man I’ve met.” You coo softly, teasing his leaking tip with your thumb, letting the milky pre-cum smear into the vein on the underside of his dick. “The team wouldn’t be the same with you. Say it.”

Simon grunts out, his hips giving a little twitch. “Mhhhn, the.. The team needs me, I’m valuable, I’m needed, I’m the best fuckin’ sniper Price has–” Simon gasps out as your hand speeds up. You grin, tilting your head, your other hand coming to his mouth, wiping spit that dribbled past his lips and tears that spilled out of his lash line. “I’m, shhit, I’m.. sexy, God, I’m big, lemme cum, please–”

Simon’s already so close, it’s fucking mortifying. With the way you’re looking over his exposed body with hungry and affection eyes, your hand skimming down his stomach, tracing his muscles and your other hand jerking him in relatively slow, tight strokes, spitting to keep it sloppy because you know that’s how he likes it—Fuuuck, you aren’t even going fast and his balls are drawing up. The ball in his lower belly is tightening and you’ve barely done a fucking thing. 

God, he’s so gone for you.

“You’re close, baby. You’re twitching.” You murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his lip, training down his tear stained cheek, licking the tear that trickled down to his ear. “You’re fucking beautiful, Si. I don’t understand why you make me do this for you to realize. Maybe you just wanna feel me on you, hm? Is that it?”

Simon’s eyes roll as your hand speeds up around his dick, and your voice is in his fucking ear, invading his brain and taking ahold of his nervous system. You’ve merged with him and his reactions and you don’t even know. You don’t even know. 

He’s babbling something, he doesn’t quite hear it. Judging by your smile, Simon’s probably mumbling some random compliment, any compliment towards himself. His hand around your wrist tightens, a whimper getting past his lips as his legs kick a little. “Go ahead, pretty. Good boy.”

Simon thinks he blacks out for a moment—all he feels is something exploding in his gut, his balls pulsing. His cock pumps out thick, hot ropes of creamy cum, shooting all over his abs, spilling over your knuckles–even reaching his neck and pooling in his left collarbone. “Jesus, Si. Pent up, hm? You’re so fuckin’ sexy, I can’t believe you let me do this.” You murmur in his ear, eyeing the way his cock is twitching and throbbing. You milk him, squeezing the base of his cock with every spurt, mimicking a clenching hole.

Simon gasps, mouth opening and closing. The warm pleasure leaks up his spine and seeps into his bone marrow, making him melt and go limp. He feels so heavy, so warm. His hand leaves your wrist, seeking out more of your skin by skimming up your arm, over your shoulder and to your cheek. He feels you press your cheek into his palm.

Simon’s panting as you lean closer, his hand cupping the nape of your neck as you press your forehead against his. 

His safety net. His love, his life—his home, right here. And you want him. 

Simon doesn’t think he minds being yours.

🏷️; @clancycatears @dumb-fawkin-bitch @ghestielong @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @snoowply @thisuserloveshalloween @spacelia @Ghostindeath @kivino @nyushkawritesstuff

apply for taglist here!

[chaepink]

Hi chae! 🕯️here, I miss you and tumblr so much— unfortunately im retired. A year or two ago you were my motivation and inspiration most of my days, you gave me motivation to start doing journalism, and through your fics I even gained some confidence SOMEHOW!! Through the months I haven’t been on tumblr OR your account I’ve broken up with 3 people, lost 4 of my bestfriends, moved countries, and I’m now working on a better relationship with family. Now you may not care but reading and staying throughout the feed on your account made me gain the motivation and excitement to start the day and get online. I hope this comes to you as a lesson that no matter what you do you can still inspire people, there’s always someone out there to appreciate you. I love you so much, you’re amazing. I pray in our next lives I’ll still be a teenager reading fanfics up at 3am on these so so unholy sites, meeting everyone just like you.

- 🕯️

HOLY SHIT I genuinely can’t believe this

Oh wow I’m about to start crying this is so touching

First of all, IM SO GLAD YOUVE GAINED CONFIDENCE THATS AMAZING and Im happy you now love journaling!!

Second of all, I can’t believe you went through so much. You’re SO STRONG and you should know that yourself. I’m so proud of you for working on yourself! It’s not easy losing people or moving across the country yet you did and you’re still here going strong!

Third of all, I DO CARE I’m so glad my writing helped you that much I would have never thought it would make such an impact but I’m glad it made one on you! I can’t believe my account has helped you since it’s very beginning :)

I keep rereading the last couple sentences and it’s just so sweet and heartwarming I can’t process it. I’m not the best in explaining myself or my feelings in words but I hope the message comes across well enough. I genuinely wish the best for you and yes in our next lives i hope I’m still writing nsfw fanfics about fictional characters! I’ll miss you 🕯️ anon!

[chaepink]

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i don’t give a shit that he’s 6’2 i want him MOANING and WHIMPERING

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unraveled.

— caleb is a wolf, wild and angry and needing to devour everything in his path, but for you? he folds his ears back and cages his teeth behind bitten lips.

— puppy play, use of "ma'am / mistress" as a title, edging, mindbreak, footjob, dry humping, body worship. mean-ish femdom tease reader / manipulative forced sub caleb kinda but you are both #CRAZY so it does not matter. this is very different from what i usually write about i triiiieeeeed 💔

Never could you have imagined your childhood best friend—your Caleb—reduced to this. Bent low, rutting against your foot, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he clings to you like a man drowning. His breath hitches, every exhale a shaky plea and every syllable strung tight with desperation.

"Ma’am, please," he whines, voice frayed at the edges. "Mercy, just a little- I’m-"

He’s been begging for so long now, left to suffer under the slow, unbearable grind of your foot against his cock. The flimsy grey shorts he wears do nothing to hide the outline of his length and how it throbs beneath your touch. There’s a dark, wet patch on the fabric where his precum is seeping through, proof of just how far you’ve pushed him.

He swallows hard, throat working against the sob lodged inside. "I’ll be good," he tries. "The best puppy there is. Just-" A shudder rolls through him, knocking the breath from his lungs. "Please?"

Shame burns high on Caleb’s cheeks, but his body betrays him. His thighs are quivering, his hips twitching—helpless, needy and grinding forward like he has no control over himself. He’s trembling, panting through parted lips, desperate sounds spilling free before he can even think to swallow them down.

"Anything," he chokes out. "I’ll give anything, take anything—just, please."

Oh, you know that. You know how much he’ll endure, how much he’ll let you bend him before he breaks. He would lose himself for you. He would trade his dignity, his sanity, just for the promise of more. If only you’d let him. If only you’d be generous. If only-

But you wait.

You watch.

Every second stretches, thick and unbearable, and you see him fraying at the seams. His breath hitches and his fingers twitch, clawing at nothing. His muscles are locked up, fighting the desperate urge to reach, to take, to claim. But he wouldn’t. Not without your approval.

Caleb’s body moves before his mind catches up, swaying forward, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, aching for the warmth he knows only you can grant him. But just before he crosses that line—just before he dares, you move first.

Your reach for him, your fingers delicately tracing the outline of his jaw. He goes rigid, a sharp gasp caught in his lungs. And then, like instinct, like worship—he nuzzles into your touch, breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

"You’re shaking," you murmur, thumbing over his flushed cheek. A slow, amused smile tugs at your lips. "Are you really this desperate, Caleb?"

His head jerks in a frantic nod, a strangled noise rising from his throat. His pupils are blown wide and his breath comes in short, uneven bursts. "I am, yes, I am-”

Your fingers drift lower, ghosting down his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing beneath your touch. His pulse is hammering under his skin and his body burning up, melting into every bit of contact like he’d fall apart without it. And he would fall apart without it.

But then—

You pull away.

His reaction is instant. He jerks forward before he can stop himself, a strangled whimper escaping before he can bite it back. But he stops himself right before he touches you, instinct warring with obedience. He knows better than to take without being given.

And that control—his restraint, more than anything, is what keeps you entertained. The sight of the Colonel, wrecked and on the verge of breaking, sends a thrill curling through your body. Yet you only hum, sighing as if you were bored, as if his suffering wasn’t the most intoxicating sight you’ve ever witnessed.

The heat simmering in you darkens, twisting into something deeper, something dangerous for the both of you. A morbid curiosity forms: just how far could you push him before he snaps?

"So…" you muse, tilting your head, feigning thoughtfulness. "You’ll take whatever I give you?"

"Anything, ma’am," he replies without hesitation.

Amused, you chuckle softly, tilting your head as if considering it. Here he is, hanging off your every word, completely at your mercy, willing to do anything for just a sliver of your attention. And just when his breath catches, just when he’s right on the edge of breaking-

You lean in.

Leaning closer, you drink in the sight of him—the unraveling need, the way his chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. You draw a gasp from his throat as your breath ghosts over his skin, his lashes fluttering, lips parting on instinct.

"Reward?" your voice is velvet and steel, soothing and binding him all at once. "And what, exactly, does my good boy think he deserves?"

He stills. You see the moment the question sinks in, the way his mind races to find the right answer, the answer that will please you most. His whole body locks up, his hips stopping, his movements going rigid with obedience. "I want- Please let me- Please let me get off to you, Ma’am- Please, please, I- I've been so good, haven’t I?"

To punctuate the plea, he shifts closer, tilting his head slightly to bare his throat, showing you the claim you left on his shoulder earlier. On his skin is a deep red hickey, an unspoken declaration of ownership. A mark of your control. Of what he lets you, and only you do to him. 

Your breath catches, your grip on his chin tightening. Your playful edge dulls into something sharper, something darker—something that twists in your gut, matching the raw, helpless hunger gripping his body.

"And how," you murmur, thumb tracing his lower lip, "does my puppy want to get off?"

His breath stutters.

He knows you know what he wants, knows you’re forcing him to say it. Knows you won’t make this easy for him.

Frustration flashes in his eyes, but he swallows it down, schooling his features into something softer, something needier. Something he knows you won’t be able to resist. A few more pathetic gasps spill past his lips, each one measured to push you closer to giving him what he’s been begging for. His voice trembles, perfectly frayed at the edges, knowing that this will be the undoing for you both.

"Please, I want- I want to rub myself against my mistress’s panties…?"

The hesitation in his words is deliberate, the breathy edge to his voice sharpened just enough to slice through your restraint. He tilts his head just a tad more, the mark on his neck like an offering, his lashes fluttering to give off the look of being lost in submission. 

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to give in.

Yet it’s only thick, unbearable silence that stretches between you once more, suffocating his patience.

His cock twitches at the suspension, a sharp pulse of need that sends heat curling down his spine. Every second you make him wait is agony, his body screaming at him to move. His instincts beg him to take, to claim, to fucking have you.

But he doesn’t.

He kneels. He obeys. He waits.

And fuck, if he weren’t so well-trained, he would’ve already had you under him. Would’ve already-

But he doesn’t. He stays still. He bows his head, pressing his forehead to your knee like a supplicant at an altar, forcing himself into the shape you’ve carved him into.

He chooses to be good.

And that is the thrill of it all.

Entertained, your fingers drift along his jaw, barely there. He exhales sharply, his whole body shuddering under your touch. “Hm… is that really what you want, puppy?”

"Yes," he whines—too fast, too eager, and too fucking wrecked to care.

You drag it out, humming, letting the tension coil tighter. “Or, is that what you think I want to hear?”

He stills. And for the briefest second, you see it—the flicker of a dangerous, untamed wolf.

And then just as quickly, he swallows it down. Shoves it away. Forces himself to be what you’ve trained him to be. To what he’s trained himself to be.

But you see it.

And you want it.

So you smile—slow, sharp—and lean in again. Close enough that he freezes. Close enough that your breath grazes his lips, close enough that his whole body locks in anticipation-

And then, you pull away.

The sound he makes is devastating. A raw, half-snarl, half-plea, his fingers digging into his thighs, fighting not to just break.

You coo at his display, your voice syrupy-sweet. “Such a good boy,” you purr, watching him shiver from the praise and restraint. “Holding yourself back so well.”

He clenches his jaw, his shoulders wound as tight as a bowstring. He knows you’re toying with him. Knows you want him to snap.

And god, he wants to. If only he were to tear through the last fraying threads of control. To devour you whole.

But before he can spiral further, you give him relief. He chokes on a gasp as your foot presses down harder against his cock, the pressure forcing his back to arch, his body keeling over and his chin dropping onto your knee. Any words he tries to form dissolve into moans, ragged and broken, as you slip your foot beneath his waistband, rubbing him through his boxers.

His fingers dig harshly into his thighs, blunt nails leaving half-moon crescents in his skin. But it’s the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely. His breath is shallow and unsteady, his whole body trembling, every fiber of him clenched, drawn so tight you can almost hear the tension hum.

You press again, and a strangled sob is torn from his throat as he lurches forward, too overwhelmed to keep himself upright. His forehead presses into your thigh, letting out short, desperate gasps against your skin. The scent of his need clings to the air, thick and intoxicating, and you inhale slowly, savoring the way he crumbles beneath you.

“Oh, look at you,” you murmur, amusement laced with control. “Just falling apart.”

“Poor puppy.” You shift your foot, just enough to make him jolt, to draw out a broken whimper. His thighs clench, his hips jerking helplessly into the teasing press of your sole. You watch his face contort, his jaw tightening, failing to hold onto the last scraps of his composure. As if he isn’t already beyond salvation.

“You’re drooling, Caleb.” Your voice is almost pitying, as if you don’t revel in the way his resolve is splintering.

It’s unbearable. You’re unbearable.

And you know it.

He lets out an unintelligible sound, and your foot presses down harder, sending him keening. His body jerks and ruts into the pressure, his boxers damp and clinging to his cock.

He’s panting, his whole body trembling, and yet still—still, he waits for you to let him fall.

“Please, Ma’am,” he chokes out, voice cracked and thin. His fists clench, the last of his restraint hanging by a thread. “I can’t- I need-”

You tilt his head back with a slow tug of his hair, drinking in the sight of him—his glassy, ruined eyes, the flush burning up his throat, the raw, hopeless hunger etched into his face.

And then you sigh. Soft. Dismissive.

Caleb flinches.

“Hm. And here I thought you were my good boy.” Your nails scrape lightly against his scalp, a ghost of affection before your grip tightens, forcing his head still. “But look at you. Making such a mess. Being so sloppy.”

Panic quickly overtakes his dazed expression. “No, no, I-” His throat bobs as he swallows, hard. “I am good, I swear, I-”

“Are you?” Your voice is measured, cool, watching the way he twists in the silence, watching how his desperation coils tighter at the lingering disappointment in your tone.

He hates this.

Hates when you doubt him.

Hates being anything less than perfect for you

His lips part, searching, pleading. “Please,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “Please let me prove it.”

And that’s what you were waiting for. That’s why you let him dangle, why you let him crack without letting him shatter.

Because now, he’s exactly where you want him.

Desperate. Submissive. Willing to do anything.

And that—that is what you wanted.

Your fingers ease, smoothing over his cheek, and the sheer relief in his expression sends a thrill to your core. You tilt your head, letting a slow, satisfied smile spread across your lips as you revel in the moment. His desperate need is palpable, and you want to draw it out, savor it.

“If you want to prove it,” you hum, dragging your foot away, “then show me.”

Caleb's eyes widen, a flash of excitement breaking through his haze of desperation. You lean back slightly, letting your foot slip off his cock, and that’s the only cue he needs—he scrambles off the floor, caging you between your arms as he shifts closer, pressing his body against yours.

You’re trapped beneath his figure, his weight pressing you into the mattress, yet the desire in his eyes doesn’t phase you. No, not one bit. Not when your hunger matches his, pulse for pulse, breath for breath.

A shudder rips through him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot and uneven, tinged with reverence. His body is flush against yours, muscles trembling as he fights to pace himself, to stray from losing control the second he finally has you beneath him.

"Thank you," he whimpers, a prayer against your skin. His lips brush over your pulse, lingering just enough to make you shiver. "Thank you, Ma’am."

His shorts and boxers are discarded to a far corner of the room, leaving him bare against you, his cock pressed flush to the cool silk of your lingerie. Precum smears across the fabric, darkening it with every shallow grind of his hips. The friction is light, teasing—but even that has him shaking. His fingers fist the sheets, muscles locking as he bars himself from losing himself too quickly.

You feel his restraint in every shuddering breath, every stifled moan, the way he fights to take only what he’s given. His forehead rests against yours, your breaths mingling, desire spilling from his parted lips as he moves again, pressing himself against you.

"I-" His voice is wrecked, thick with pleasure and gratitude. His hips roll again, slow, deliberate, rubbing himself against the soft lace stretched over your cunt. He chases your heat like it’s the only thing keeping him sane, savoring every inch of contact. "Feels so good-"

Your fingers trace a slow path down his side, and he whimpers. Even with his body caging yours, it feels like you’re the one pulling the leash wrapped tight around his neck.

"Puppy…you like this, don’t you?" The question is smooth. Knowing.

His whole body jolts, rhythm faltering as another wave of pleasure wracks through him. The words spill from him instantly, raw and full of desire. "Yes, fuck- I do, Ma’am-" His grip on the sheets tighten, his knuckles turning white from the sheer effort of holding himself together, to not fuck into you, to not rip off your panties and sink into your tight heat.

A hot rush of tears gathers in his eyes, his mind spinning further into need. His body moves on its own, grinding deeper, chasing anything that will push him over the edge. His fingers dig into your waist, pulling you closer, as if that will save him.

His pupils are blown wide, the wildness in his gaze unmistakable. He’s right there, teetering, ready to break.

But you don’t move. You let him unravel, let him drown. Every shudder, every desperate twitch, every broken sound is for you. And he knows it.

"Ma’am," he whines, his voice cracking as his rhythm stutters. “I want to- I want to- Please let me-”

Your body responds, heat coiling tight as his breath hitches against you. "Good boy," you murmur, and the way he shudders at the praise sends a sharp pulse of desire straight to your core. “Hm…is my puppy gonna cum so fast?”

“I am,” he cries, a fervent mantra that spills from his lips, hips rocking in that shaky rhythm as he feels you overtake his senses. “Can- May I?”

You hum, dragging your nails down his back, feeling the way his muscles jerk beneath your touch. His breath hitches, a broken moan slipping free, his entire body locked tight with need.

"You may," you purr, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "If you can do it like a good boy—without making a mess."

A sob catches in his throat, his hips stuttering mid-grind as his mind scrambles to process the command. "I- I can, I will- fuck-" His fingers dig harder into your waist, his whole body trembling as he desperately chases his release without breaking the rules you've set.

Every motion is torturous, pleasure crackling through his nerves like a live wire. His cock throbs, aching as he ruts against the silk, the damp fabric dragging against his sensitive length in a way that has him pleading through the choked-off moans spilling past his lips.

"Ma’am, please, please-" His voice is thin, broken apart by desperate little hiccups of pleasure. "I‘m so close, fuck, so close, please-"

His entire face presses against yours, his damp lashes fluttering, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. His grip on the sheets is nearly murderous, his body thrumming with the promise of release.

And then—he breaks.

A strangled sob rips from his throat as his hips jerk forward, his cock pulsing against the silk, the sheer force of his orgasm wracking through him. His whole body tenses then trembles as he spills, soaking through the fabric, painting your lingerie with thick, hot spurts of cum. 

You decide to place a hand on the head of his cock, and he shatters all over again as you squeeze, hot tears flowing down his face as he’s sent careening into cloud 9. More cum shoots out of his cock, this time reaching your stomach and tits, your skin stained with his fluids.

His moans turn into soft whines, body twitching with aftershocks as he clings to you, burying his face against your neck, panting raggedly.

You let him catch his breath and settle for just a moment. Then—your fingers fist in his hair, yanking his head back to meet his bleary, wrecked gaze. He fucking yelps, his cheeks streaked with tears as he blubbers over his words.

“M-Miss, I- I-It’s hngh-! too- too good, I-I-” His voice is high, cracking between sobs as he trembles under your grasp. His body is still shuddering from the aftershocks, his cock still hard and throbbing against the soaked silk separating you.

You click your tongue, tilting your head as you drink in the flushed, ruined sight of him, struggling to piece himself together when you both know he's already fallen apart.

"Too good?" you echo, mock sympathy curling around the words. Your grip tightens, nails digging into his scalp just enough to make him wince. "You made such a mess. And here I was, thinking you could be good for me."

Caleb lets out a soft, broken whimper, the humiliation sparking something deeper in his dazed, pleasure-drunk mind. “I- I’m sorry, I…I can be good, I promise-  I-I’ll be better the next time-"

"Next time?" you repeat, your voice low and dangerous as you squeeze his cock again, enough to make him jolt, his body writhing from the overload of sensations. "Who says I'll let you have a next time?"

The words hang heavy between you, and Caleb’s eyes widen, a sob escaping him as he scrambles for your forgiveness. He shakes his head, pressing himself closer to you as if he can beg with his body as much as with his words. "No, no Miss- Please, I’m sorry! I’ll do better- I’ll be better, I can prove it to you-!"

Dread floods his already wrecked expression, his hands scrambling to grip at you—your wrists, your waist, anything he can reach as if holding onto you might keep you from slipping away. His words crumble into another sob as he buries his face against your neck, pressing frantic kisses to your skin between shaky pleas. "Please, Miss, I need you, I need to prove it to you, please don’t take it away from me-”

You tilt your head, watching him squirm beneath the weight of your words. Then, just as he opens his mouth to plead again, you drag your nails down his chest, slow and deliberate, making him shudder.

"Anything, huh?"

"Yes- Yes, Miss, anything," he gasps, nodding frantically. "Anything, anything- I’ll be your good boy, your good puppy. I’ll hold myself back, I will, I will-"

A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at your lips. Your grip in his hair tightens once more, pulling his head back further until his throat is bared to you, shaking and vulnerable.

"Then prove it, puppy," you purr, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Right now."

[chaepink]

I love when you find an author who just has a good flavor to their writing. It could be the way they handle characters, the way they use certain tropes or themes, even the specific lilt of their words. Its familiar and comforting and carries across different stories, like coming back to a place of comfort and recognizing the furniture.

[chaepink]

love seeing men being compared to dogs 🙏

[chaepink]

Somethin about having a big guy, who’s scary, menacing, buff and tuff in between your legs with tears pouring from his eyes that look up with you in adoration. As he uses his mouth on you like his life depends on it, he doesn’t need air, no no he needs you to cum. Make sure you pull his hair nice and hard when you do, it makes it much more satisfying. Especially when he’s humping the mattress underneath him desperately trying to gain friction. But he’s stilly your big tough guy! Definitely…

Characters: Nanami, Choso, Abbachio, Jotaro(part 4-6), Beel, Ghost, (any big monster), Diavolo, tbh- any big tiddied himbo-

[chaepink]

Cracking the Code Pt 2 ⭑.ᐟ

╰┈➤ with Rinarou Suna

Part 1 here

rating: NSFW

wc: 2600

Summary: After leaving Suna desperate and wrecked at a party, you run into him at the gym, only to tease and deny him again bc your evil

₊⊹ CW: sub!suna, suna being a mess, good boy used a lot, edging, kinda public, and y/n is a baddie

₊⊹ Do Not Interact if: <18!

₊⊹ A/N: definitely cooking up a part three… I wanna put him in some lingerie hehe

You weren’t even thinking about Suna when you walked into the gym that afternoon. Honestly, you’d almost forgotten about the way you’d left him hanging at that party—well, not forgotten. The memory of his wrecked expression, the way his body had trembled under your touch, was still seared into your mind. But you’d moved on.

Suna, on the other hand…

You spotted him immediately. He was leaning against the squat rack, water bottle in hand, wearing a loose tank top and shorts that did absolutely nothing to hide the way his body was strung tight with tension.

And he was staring right at you.

You felt it the moment his eyes locked on you—like a physical pull, drawing you in. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Not yet.

Instead, you ignored him, walking past without so much as a glance, heading straight toward the treadmill.

But you could feel him watching you.

The weight of his gaze followed you as you stretched, adjusted your ponytail, and climbed onto the machine. You kept your pace slow, giving yourself time to settle in, but your mind was already miles ahead.

How long can he last this time?

Five minutes.

That’s all it took.

You heard the shuffle of footsteps behind you, followed by the distinct sound of a water bottle being set down a little too hard on the machine next to you.

“Y/n.”

His voice was low, controlled—too controlled.

You didn’t look over, but you felt the corner of your mouth twitch. Oh, he’s still trying? Cute.

“Rintarou.” Your tone was cool, casual, like you hadn’t worked him up and abandoned him last weekend.

“Been avoiding me?”

That made you glance over—just for a second.

Suna was leaning against the handlebars of the treadmill, arms flexed just enough to make it clear how tense he was. His jaw was clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes…

His eyes were pleading.

“Why would I do that?” You arched a brow, your tone light, playful. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to be keeping tabs on you.”

“Y/n…” His voice was quieter this time, strained.

Ah.

There it was.

You slowed the treadmill, stepping off and grabbing your water bottle before turning to face him fully.

“Something wrong, Rintarou?” You kept your tone innocent, but the way you crossed your arms, tilting your head just enough to make him feel small—that wasn’t innocent at all.

Suna’s jaw worked as he tried to find the words, his eyes flickering down to the floor for a split second before meeting yours again.

“I…” He swallowed hard, and fuck—his throat was dry.

You stepped closer, just enough to invade his space, your body brushing lightly against his.

“Use your words, baby.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make his breath hitch.

“I can’t…” His voice cracked, and his head dipped down, his forehead almost brushing against yours.

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t stop thinking about it.” His confession was so quiet, so raw, that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Thinking about what, Rintarou?” You knew exactly what he meant, but you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

Suna’s eyes lifted, and the desperation in them was impossible to miss now.

“You,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “That night. The way you…” His breath caught, and his jaw clenched again, but this time, he didn’t look away. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

A wicked smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned in just enough for your breath to ghost over his lips.

“Aw.” Your voice was soft, but the satisfaction dripping from it was impossible to miss. “Poor baby.”

Suna’s hands flexed at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to grab you—like he was begging for permission to touch you.

“Please.”

The word was barely a whisper, but it was enough to make your pulse spike.

“Please what, Rintarou?” Your lips brushed against his, so close but not giving him anything. “Tell me what you want.”

Suna’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing uneven, and when he spoke again…

“Please,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. “Let me be good for you.”

Fuck.

You had him. Again.

And this time, you weren’t going to let him off so easy.

You tilted your head, letting his words hang in the air for a moment, savoring the way his body was practically vibrating with anticipation. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful, and his hands were fisted at his sides, like he was physically holding himself back from reaching for you.

“Hmm.” You dragged a single finger down his chest, tracing the defined lines through his tank top, and felt the way his muscles tensed under your touch. “You want to be good for me, huh?”

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse, strained, like he was barely holding it together. “Please.”

“Please what?” Your nails scratched lightly over his abs, just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t know what you’re asking for, baby.”

Suna’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, his lips parted as he fought to steady his breathing. When he opened them again, there was nothing left of that cocky, unaffected façade he always wore.

Just raw, unfiltered need.

“I can’t…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep it together. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?” Your lips brushed against his jaw, and the shiver that ran through his body made your core ache.

“About…” His breath caught as you dragged your nails down his stomach, lower, until they teased just above the waistband of his shorts. “About the way you…”

“Made you fall apart?” you murmured, lips grazing his ear, and the soft, broken noise that slipped past his lips sent a thrill down your spine.

“Yeah.” His voice was barely a whisper now, and his hips pressed forward, chasing your touch. “Please.”

“Aw.” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your smile wicked as you watched him crumble for you. “Look at you.” You dragged your fingers up his chest again, watching the way his body shuddered under your touch. “You’re already falling apart, and I haven’t even touched you properly.”

Suna’s breath hitched, and his eyes fluttered shut again—like he was trying to ground himself. But it wasn’t working.

“Rintarou,” you murmured, your lips brushing over his, so close but not giving him anything. “What happened to all that control you’re so proud of?”

“I…” His voice was barely there now, and his body was trembling, his restraint hanging by a thread.

“Gone already?” You cupped his jaw, tilting his face up so he had no choice but to meet your gaze. “Poor thing.”

“Y/n…” His eyes were glassy, lips slightly swollen from how hard he’d been biting them, and his breathing was ragged—completely at your mercy.

“Shh.” You dragged your thumb over his bottom lip, watching as his mouth parted for you instinctively. “I’m not done playing with you yet.”

Suna’s body practically sagged against you, his forehead almost brushing against yours as he exhaled a shaky breath.

“Please.” The word was barely a whisper, but the way he said it—like he was ready to drop to his knees for you right there in the gym—sent a pulse of heat straight to your core.

“Alright, baby.” You dragged your nails lightly down his chest again, feeling the way his body shuddered under your touch. “But not here.”

His eyes snapped open, and you saw the flicker of confusion mixed with frustration—like he was barely holding on.

“W-Where?” His voice was breathless, shaky.

“Come with me.” Your smile was sweet, but the glint in your eyes was anything but. “And be a good boy.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his, and led him out of the gym without a word.

Suna followed without hesitation, his body tense, practically vibrating with anticipation.

You didn’t go far.

The locker room was empty—mid-afternoon on a weekday meant most people were either in class or already gone.

Perfect.

You pushed open the door and pulled him inside, backing him up against the nearest row of lockers before he could even process what was happening.

“Y/n—”

“Shh.” You placed a finger over his lips, silencing him.

Suna’s breath was ragged, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at you, waiting—begging—for whatever you were about to do to him.

“You’ve been such a mess since that night, haven’t you?” Your voice was a whisper, but it echoed in the empty space, filling the air between you.

Suna swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his composure—but you could see how badly he was losing that battle.

“Can’t sleep,” you murmured, dragging your nails down his chest again. “Can’t focus.”

His breath hitched.

“Been thinking about me every time you touch yourself, haven’t you?”

Suna’s body jerked at that, his head falling back against the lockers with a soft thud as a strangled noise slipped past his lips.

“Fuck.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as your fingers dipped just below the waistband of his shorts, teasing but not giving him what he wanted.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Your voice was pure sin, dripping with satisfaction. “Thought you could handle me.”

“I can’t…” His voice was barely there now, strained and shaky, and his hips pressed forward, chasing your touch. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Touch me.” His head tilted forward again, his forehead almost brushing against yours. “I—” His breath was ragged, desperate. “I need you.”

You smiled, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach again, just barely grazing over where he was already painfully hard.

“Hmm.” You tilted your head, pretending to think about it. “I don’t know, Rintarou.” You met his gaze, your lips curling into a wicked smile. “Do you deserve it?”

“Please.” His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw something in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat—complete surrender.

“Good boy.”

And just like that, you had him.

The moment the words left your lips, Suna’s body melted into your touch, his head dipping forward until his forehead was almost brushing against yours. His breathing was ragged, uneven, and you could feel the way his body trembled under your hands—completely at your mercy.

But you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

Not yet.

“Hmm.” You dragged your nails lightly down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed with anticipation. “I guess I could give you a little something…”

“Please.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and the way his hands twitched at his sides—like he was dying to touch you but knew better—made your core ache.

“Such good manners.” Your lips brushed over his jaw, your breath ghosting over his skin as you trailed soft kisses down his neck. “Maybe you do deserve a reward…”

Suna’s breath hitched when your hand finally slipped beneath the waistband of his shorts, fingers wrapping around him with just enough pressure to make his knees buckle.

“F-Fuck.” His head fell back against the lockers with a soft thud, and his lips parted as a strangled moan slipped past them.

“Aw, look at you,” you murmured, your voice dripping with satisfaction as you stroked him slowly, deliberately, just enough to make him ache. “So desperate already.”

“Y/n…” His voice was barely there now, and the way his hips bucked into your hand made it painfully obvious just how close he was to losing control.

“Shh.” You tilted your head, pressing your lips against the shell of his ear. “I’m in charge, remember?”

Suna’s whole body shuddered, and the broken moan that escaped his lips sent a pulse of heat straight to your core.

“Y-Yes.” His voice was strained, and you felt his hips jerk again, chasing your touch even as he tried so hard to hold back.

“Good boy.” You tightened your grip just a little, dragging your thumb over the head of his cock, and the whimper that spilled from his lips was downright sinful.

“F-Fuck,” he breathed, his head tilting forward again, his forehead almost brushing against yours as he struggled to keep himself together.

“You’ve been thinking about this all week, haven’t you?” You kept your strokes slow, teasing, just enough to make him ache.

“Y-Yeah.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and his breathing was so uneven now, you could feel how close he was.

“Been touching yourself to the memory of me?” Your tone was sweet, but the wicked smile tugging at your lips said otherwise.

“Y-Yeah.” His head dipped lower, and the soft, broken noise that slipped past his lips made you ache for him.

“Poor thing.” You dragged your lips down his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just enough to make him shiver. “Bet it wasn’t enough, was it?”

“N-No.”

“Bet you still felt empty afterward.”

Suna’s whole body trembled, and the whimper that spilled from his lips was so soft, so wrecked, that it made your core throb with need.

“Y/n…” His voice was broken now, barely above a whisper.

You tightened your grip again, your strokes picking up just enough to have him teetering on the edge.

“You close, baby?”

“Y-Yeah.” His hips bucked into your hand, and his breathing was so uneven now, you knew he was seconds away from falling apart.

“Gonna be a good boy and come for me?”

“Please.” His voice cracked, and his eyes fluttered shut as his body tensed, his muscles coiling as he chased that release.

“Hmm.” You pressed your lips against his jaw, your hand still working him expertly.

And then—

You let go.

Just like that.

You stepped back, pulling your hand away completely, and the choked noise that tore from Suna’s throat was downright devastating.

“W-What—” His eyes snapped open, wide and glassy with desperation as he stared at you, his body still trembling, so fucking close he could taste it.

“Aw.” You pouted, tilting your head as you watched him fall apart in front of you. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Y/n…” His voice was a wrecked, broken whisper, and his hips jerked forward instinctively, chasing a touch that was no longer there.

“Did you think I was gonna let you finish?” Your smile was downright wicked now, and the way Suna’s eyes pleaded with you made your core ache.

“P-Please…” His body was shaking, his muscles tense as he fought the urge to touch himself—because he knew better.

“You didn’t think I’d make it that easy, did you?” You leaned in, brushing your lips over his ear again, and the shiver that ran through his body was impossible to miss.

“Y/n…” His voice cracked, and you could feel how close he still was, teetering on the edge but unable to fall.

“Not yet, baby.” You pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, your tone soft but firm. “Be patient.”

And then—

You stepped back.

Suna’s eyes flew open, wide with disbelief, his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath.

“W-Where…” His voice was barely there, broken and desperate. “Where are you going?”

You smiled sweetly, grabbing your water bottle and slinging your bag over your shoulder like nothing had happened.

“Class.” You winked, turning toward the door, but not before throwing one last look over your shoulder. “Be good for me, Rintarou.”

And then you left.

Leaving him there—desperate, wrecked, and aching for you.

thank you for reading! Reblogs are always appreciated <3

⭑.ᐟ masterlist

[chaepink]

YUMMY YUM YUM 😋

Cracking the Code ⭑.ᐟ

╰┈➤ with Rintarou Suna

rating: NSFWish?

wc: 2,540

Summary: At a crowded party, you toy with suna, pushing him to the edge as he struggles to keep control. His cool facade crumbles, leaving him desperate and completely at your mercy.

₊⊹ CW: sub!suna x dom!reader, time skip college au, drinking implied, heavy dirty talk and flirting.

₊⊹ Do Not Interact if: >18!

₊⊹ A/N: lots of teasing! No actual smut justttt yet ;)

Loud music thumped through the crowded living room, bass vibrating the floor as bodies pressed together in the dim light. You weren’t even sure whose party this was—probably someone from the volleyball team, given how many six-foot-somethings were milling around—but that wasn’t really your concern. Not when Suna Rintarou was leaning against the wall, drink in hand, looking like the poster child for nonchalance.

He was all sharp jawlines and half-lidded eyes, dressed in a black hoodie pushed up to his elbows, showing off the veins running down his forearms. He looked bored out of his mind, barely reacting when groups of girls wandered by, throwing glances his way.

But you caught it. The quick flick of his gaze when you stepped into his line of sight, the way his jaw tightened when you smirked at him.

Gotcha.

You didn’t go straight to him. No, that’d be too easy. Instead, you stayed just close enough to be noticed—close enough for him to see the way your dress hugged every curve, your fingers idly running along the rim of your glass. You felt his eyes on you, even when he pretended not to look, and when you finally closed the distance, it was with the confidence of someone who already knew the outcome.

“Not your scene?” you asked, tilting your head as you leaned against the wall beside him.

“Something like that,” he murmured, voice low and smooth, but you caught the way his fingers tapped once against his cup—nervous.

“Yet you’re still here.” Your gaze dragged lazily over him, just enough to make him aware of it.

“Had nothing better to do,” he said, lips twitching like he was fighting a smirk.

“So if I gave you something better to do…” You let the words hang, watching the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

Suna blinked, his expression carefully blank, but you could see the heat in his eyes, the tension in his posture. He thought he was so good at hiding it, but you could tell he was already unraveling.

“Depends,” he murmured, finally meeting your gaze. “What exactly are you offering?”

You leaned in, just close enough that your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you let me show you?”

His breath hitched. Barely. But it was there.

And that was all the invitation you needed.

You dragged your nails lightly down his arm, watching goosebumps rise in their wake. He didn’t move, but the muscle in his jaw clenched, and his grip on his cup tightened.

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” you teased, voice just loud enough for him to hear over the music.

“Not really.” His tone was flat, but his body told another story.

“Hmm.” Your nails grazed down to his wrist before you backed off, giving him just enough space to miss the contact.

His exhale was slow, controlled—but his knuckles were white around his drink now.

“Sure,” you murmured, biting back a smile. “Whatever you say, Suna.”

For the next twenty minutes, you toyed with him. Casual touches as you ‘accidentally’ brushed against him. Leaning in close to speak over the music, your lips just grazing his jaw. Each time, he stayed still, forcing his body not to react. But you saw the way his pupils dilated, how his breathing grew just a little heavier.

“You’re really trying hard to keep it together, huh?” You finally prodded, tilting your head, eyes meeting his.

Suna’s smirk was lazy, but there was tension in his jaw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but you do.” Your hand trailed lightly down his chest, nails barely scraping over the fabric. His body betrayed him with the slightest shiver. “You’re dying to see what happens if you let go, aren’t you?”

For the first time, he didn’t answer immediately. His lips parted like he was going to speak, but nothing came out.

You leaned in close again, lips brushing the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Rintarou.”

His exhale was shaky, and when you pulled back, his eyes were darker than before.

“I’m not,” he muttered, but his voice was hoarse, giving him away.

“Liar.”

And this time, when your hand skimmed over his waistband, lingering just a little too long, his jaw clenched—and his breath stuttered.

Got him.

“You can keep playing cool,” you murmured, your smile nothing short of wicked. “But I know exactly how bad you want me to ruin you.”

Suna’s eyes finally met yours, and for the first time all night, the facade cracked.

“Prove it.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

“Prove it, huh?” Your lips curled into a smirk as you tilted your head, eyes locked on his. The challenge in his voice was weak at best, but the way his breathing had quickened, the subtle shift in his stance—like he was trying to ground himself—told you everything.

“Careful, Rintarou.” You dragged your nails down his chest again, slower this time, just enough pressure to make him feel it through the fabric. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I can handle it.” His voice was low, but there was a slight tremor in it, one he tried to hide by taking a slow sip of his drink.

You watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, eyes flickering down to where your body was still angled just a little too close. The heat between you was palpable, and when he set the cup down on the windowsill behind him, his hand was just a little unsteady.

“Handle it?” You leaned in, your breath ghosting over his skin. “You’ve been holding yourself together all night, Rintarou. But I wonder…” Your fingers danced down his torso, tracing the defined lines through his hoodie. “How long can you really last?”

You felt him tense under your touch, muscles coiling like a spring wound too tight. But he stayed silent, biting the inside of his cheek, eyes hooded and half-lidded like he was bored.

But that was the thing about Suna.

He wasn’t bored. He was trying not to fall apart.

And he was failing.

“Nothing to say?” you murmured, letting your lips graze the shell of his ear. “That’s okay.” Your fingers slipped lower, brushing just above the waistband of his jeans. “I like it better when you get all quiet and obedient for me anyway.”

His exhale was shaky this time, barely audible over the bass pounding through the walls, but you caught it. His jaw clenched so hard you were sure it was starting to ache, and his hands fisted at his sides like he was fighting the urge to grab you.

“Oh, you’re trying so hard, aren’t you?” Your voice was pure sin, dripping with amusement as you dragged your lips down the side of his neck, barely grazing the skin. “But I can feel it, Rintarou.” Your teeth scraped lightly over his pulse point, and his body shuddered.

“Feel what?” His voice was hoarse, almost strained, but he was still holding on. Barely.

“How bad you want to give in.” Your tongue flicked out, tracing a slow line down his neck, and this time, he couldn’t hide it.

The soft, broken noise he made was barely above a whisper, but you heard it. And it sent a thrill down your spine.

“Poor thing.” You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, and fuck—his pupils were blown wide, lips slightly parted, and his breath came in uneven, shallow bursts. “Trying so hard not to show me how bad you want it.”

“I don’t—”

“Liar.” Your fingers tugged lightly at the waistband of his jeans, and his hips jerked forward before he could stop himself.

That earned you a wicked smile.

“See?” Your nails scratched lightly along his hipbone, and he sucked in a breath, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to muffle whatever sound threatened to escape. “Your body’s more honest than you are.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, but it wasn’t frustration—it was surrender, and you could hear it clear as day.

“Uh-uh.” You pressed a finger to his lips, stopping him. “I don’t wanna hear excuses.”

Suna’s jaw tensed, and his eyes met yours—defiance flickering there for a brief second. But that spark died the moment you dragged your nails down his stomach, and his breath hitched so hard it was almost a whimper.

“Still think you can handle it?” You cocked a brow, letting your fingers brush the outline of his growing arousal through his pants.

His answer was a shaky exhale, lips parted like he was about to speak—but nothing came out.

“Aw.” You cupped his jaw, tilting his face up so he had no choice but to look at you. His eyes were glassy, lips slightly swollen from how hard he’d been biting them. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Y/n…” His voice was barely a whisper, a plea wrapped in a single syllable.

“Yeah?” You dragged your thumb over his bottom lip, watching as his eyes fluttered shut at the touch.

“Don’t…” His voice trailed off, but you didn’t miss the way his hips shifted forward, chasing your hand.

“Don’t what?” You leaned in closer, lips brushing against his. “Don’t stop?”

A soft, shuddering breath was your only answer.

“Say it,” you murmured against his mouth, your hand sliding lower, pressing against him just enough to make his body jerk.

“Fuck—” His head fell back against the wall, and the sound that left his lips was so quiet, so broken, you almost felt bad for teasing him.

Almost.

“Say it, Rintarou.” Your teeth grazed his jaw, and you could feel his resolve crumbling.

“Don’t…” His voice was barely there now, and his body was trembling under your touch. “Don’t stop.”

“Good boy.”

That broke him.

Suna’s breath caught, and his body went rigid, like he was physically holding himself back from completely falling apart. But it was too late.

You had him.

“See?” Your lips ghosted over his ear again, voice dripping with satisfaction. “I told you…” Your hand pressed a little harder, and the strangled noise he made went straight to your core. “You can’t handle me.”

And the way Suna’s hips pressed desperately into your touch, his head tilted back, throat exposed as he fought to keep control—

You knew he was already gone.

“Now,” you murmured, lips brushing against his neck as your fingers slid higher, tangling in his hair. “Be a good boy and let me break you properly.”

And this time, Suna didn’t even try to fight it.

Suna’s body was practically vibrating under your touch, his breathing ragged, chest rising and falling too fast as he struggled to hold on. But he was losing. Fast.

“Look at you,” you murmured, dragging your lips down his jaw, your breath hot against his skin. “Trying so hard to keep it together.”

His jaw clenched, and you could feel the way his body tensed—every muscle coiled so tight, he was practically trembling.

“But I wonder…” Your fingers trailed back up his chest, slow and deliberate, until they brushed over his throat. You didn’t apply pressure—just enough contact to make him aware of how easily you could take control.

Suna’s breath hitched, and his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment before snapping open again.

“Hmm.” Your thumb brushed lightly over his pulse, feeling the rapid thrum beneath your fingertips. “What happens if I just… stop?”

The tension in his body snapped so fast, it was almost audible.

His eyes shot open, and for the first time all night, that lazy, detached mask he always wore was completely gone.

“Wait—”

But you were already pulling back, putting just enough distance between your bodies that he couldn’t chase the contact.

“Aw.” You tilted your head, lips curling into a wicked smile as you watched the panic flash in his eyes. “Something wrong, Rintarou?”

“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but the desperation in it was undeniable.

“Don’t what?” You feigned innocence, licking your lips as your gaze dipped down to where he was still painfully hard, his body screaming for relief. “Use your words, baby.”

Suna’s jaw clenched so tight you thought he might crack a tooth, but his pride was slipping fast. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to grab you and pull you back against him.

“Don’t…” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to steady his breathing. “Don’t stop.”

His voice was quieter this time, barely there—but you heard it.

And it was exactly what you’d been waiting for.

“Hmm.” You dragged a single finger down his chest, just barely skimming the surface. “But I thought you could handle it, Rintarou.”

“I—” His voice cracked, and he quickly bit his bottom lip, trying to compose himself.

But it was too late.

You could see the way his body was betraying him—his breathing uneven, pupils blown wide, skin flushed in a way that told you he was barely holding it together.

“Poor thing.” You brushed your lips against his ear, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re already falling apart, aren’t you?”

Suna’s breath caught, and his head tipped back just slightly, exposing the curve of his throat. His body was practically begging for more, but he didn’t dare move.

“Good boy,” you murmured, letting your lips barely graze his skin again—just enough to leave him wanting. “I knew you’d break for me eventually.”

And just like that, you stepped back.

Suna’s eyes snapped open, panic flashing across his face as the distance between you grew.

“Where are you going?” His voice was quieter now, almost… vulnerable.

You smiled, cocking your head to the side as you looked at him. His body was tense, his eyes dark with barely restrained need, and his lips were slightly swollen from how hard he’d been biting them.

“Relax.” You gave him a sweet, almost innocent smile that only made his jaw clench harder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But then your gaze dropped to where he was still achingly hard, straining against his jeans, and your smile turned wicked.

“You, on the other hand…” You took a step back, watching the way his body leaned toward you, even as he tried to stay still. “Are gonna have to sit with that for a while.”

Suna’s breath hitched, and the soft, barely audible whimper that slipped past his lips was enough to make your core ache.

“Be a good boy for me, Rintarou.” Your voice was pure sin, dripping with satisfaction as you leaned in just enough to brush your lips against his jaw one last time.

“And maybe…” Your teeth grazed his skin, and his whole body shuddered. “I’ll let you beg for it later.”

When you finally pulled back, Suna’s eyes were glassy, his lips parted, and his body was practically trembling from the effort of holding himself together.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice barely audible.

“See you around, Rintarou.” You winked, turning on your heel and leaving him standing there—wrecked, desperate, and completely at your mercy.

And you didn’t even need to look back to know…

He was already counting down the minutes until he could fall apart for you.

thank you for reading! Reblogs are always appreciated <3

⭑.ᐟ Masterlist

₊⊹ Part 2 (cuming soon) (if this gets enough likes)

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Is shiggy someone you wouldn’t mind writing for?

I don’t write for him because I’m not confident in being able to write his personality good. Maybe a short drabble is fine but definitely not a full fic

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HI QUEEN IVE BEEN A FOLLOWER SINCE LIKE TWO YEARS AGO I LOVE YOUR WORK AND IVE NEVER FELT MORE HEARD HERE😇😇

DAMN TWO YEARS?? YOURE A OG 😭🫶❤️

UGH ILYSM THANK YOU 😭😭😭😭😭😭

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no one will know which one it is.

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i'm so far on the horny and fanfic side of tumblr that sometimes i forget that people post other things on here

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”okay but are you normal about-“ no. I’m an insane pervert.

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BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

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i will spit and slobber all over it until they beg and cry for me to stop