#Hammered wall corner

[johnypage95]

Tile trim in UAE:-

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[buck-yyyy]

sorry for telling you all about my personal philosophies on life and how that ties into the art form that is the apartment i built in my head, do you still think i’m hot

[mrsbeef]

Landlord Special: Food Edition

Here is the base of my kitchen drawer where my landlord painted over a lonely fragment of spaghetti

I thought it was a nail at first but under the paint it is distinctly the colour of a pasta noodle

[courfeyracs-swordcane]

I got tagged by @tesho-travels to do ten songs I have on loop lately!

1. Danny by Grover Anderson and Jimbo Scott

2. My Body’s Made of Crushed Little Stars by Mitski

3. The entire Equalizer Robobs playlist

4. Goodbye Yellowbrick Road by Elton John

5. Funeral Pyres from ARISTOS: the Musical

6. Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet by Fall Out Boy

7. Hallelujah

8. This Is Love by Air Traffic Controller

9. Telephone Wire from Fun Home

10. Draft Dodger Rag by Pete Seeger

Tagging @nosongunsung11 @wildfandom @coyotefang1987 @lemonade-comet @nplutonian @theparallaxview @dogliker73 !!! And anyone else who wants to do it just say I tagged you I like seeing people’s music

[shotmrmiller]

When Johnny takes Simon to his home, and you open the door, Simon's heart stops beating. You direct that lovely smile he's fallen in love with at Johnny as you hug him and usher him inside. Simon's frozen in place, his body refusing to move, because gods, you're a fucking dream.

And then you turn your attention towards him, with ruddy cheeks and pink lips and a delicate neck he could easily wrap his hand around—

"You must be Simon!" and his cock starts to stir. All you said was his name, in that angelic voice of yours, and his blood started to rush to his groin.

When you move to wrap your arms around him in an embrace, he finally breaks from his trance and returns it. Barely. It's awkward— one arm coming up to inelegantly pat your upper back a little too hard, and the other stiff at his side. But you seem completely unbothered, just giving him one last squeeze and step back, holding both of his arms in your dainty hands, and you say, "It's great to meet the one that keeps my Johnny safe. Now, come on in, make yourself at home!"

Simon timidly walks inside, and closes the door behind him, and utters, "Thank you for lettin' me stay here."

The joyful laughter you let out sends exquisite prickles up his spine. "He actually speaks! I'm surprised, Johnny said it took a bit for you to warm up to others," and you give another stomach-fluttering giggle. "You're welcome here any time, Simon. Now let me take you to the room you'll be staying in."

Simon has to carry his duffle bag in front of him as you lead him to the guest room to cover the throbbing erection he's got. When you leave him to freshen up, he wastes no time in pulling his jeans down and taking himself in his hand, stroking firmly. When his imagination paints a picture of you wearing an apron while cooking a meal for him, his vision blurs as he climaxes.

--

Simon knows he's atypical. He has no real decorum. He tells piss-poor dark jokes, inadvertently stares at people when he's lost in thought— and since he's been here, Simon likes to shadow you.

But you don't seem to mind any of it. You laugh at his jokes, the ones Johnny never fails to scoff in disgust at, you tilt your head innocently towards him, silently questioning his intense gaze — and it's so fucking adorable that he's come to that look 8 times in the last 3 days— and you always ask him to reach for things that are out of your reach because you know he's around. (Johnny made a joke once, said that you're being haunted by a ghost, and the quip you replied with as you came to his defense had him dizzy.)

His favorite thing about you though, is how unafraid you are of him. You had rounded a corner and saw his skull mask for the first time, and had you been like any other woman, you would've been startled. But you hadn't been— If anything, you asked him if he wanted it fixed.

"I can see a couple of tears here, Simon. I can patch it up if you like."

It was so deliciously domiciliary that he counted each stitch of his mended mask with his thumb as he touched himself that night.

And then, through the thin walls of the home, he suddenly heard your dulcet moans. He quickly got up and put his skills to use— silently crossing the living room and leaning against the wall closest to your bedroom door.

The bed repeatedly creaked and every choked moan that left you, Simon heard clearly. He hastily took out his achingly hard cock, spit on his palm, and stroked himself to the rhythm of the slapping of skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fucked himself to the thought of him being the one in there with you.

He has no doubt that you'd feel heavenly. Your slick cunt swallowing his turgid length, walls almost painfully tight around him. You'd beg for him to hammer into you, relentlessly, mercilessly. You'd tell him to bite the crook of your shoulder once you were about to come around his cock, and when he actually hears you reach your peak, he rhythmically tightens and loosens his grip, imitating your fluttering walls. His toes are curling inside his socks, he's so bloody close—

And then Simon hears your lascivious voice murmur, "Come in me."

He bites his lip so hard it splits under the pressure as he comes. Tiny, hushed whimpers seeped from behind his mouth, as hot cum spilled onto his fingers, and trickled onto the floor.

The only noise Simon can hear now is his own shaky breath— the fun's over on both sides, it seems. He looks down, gives his softening cock one more stroke, wringing out the last of his seed, before tucking himself away, and sluggishly wiping his mess off the floor with his foot.

He quietly moves, heading back to his room, when he spots your laundry basket in the utility room.

Simon has never believed in luck until now when he's sniffing your knickers in the privacy of the guest room, and he realizes they've been worn. And by how strong the smell of you is, they've been used very recently. He felt like he won the goddamn lottery.

Wrapping it around his cock, he touches himself. Again. And when he comes, he makes sure to spurt his cum directly onto the gusset of the undergarment.

Come morning, when they're all stiff and crusted, he laments that he didn't lick them first, in a pitiful bid to experience a taste of you, before stowing them into a secret compartment in his bag. He makes a mental note to remember to do just that when he takes another pair.

Simon wordlessly makes a cup of tea later, hissing as the hot liquid comes in contact with the small wound on his lip, when Johnny approaches him.

"Mornin' LT."

A grunt is his only reply.

Johnny then shoots him a sly grin.

"Last night, ye weren't as wheesht, as quiet, as ye thought. But dinnae worry, Bonnie doesn't ken a thing."

He claps a hand on Simon's petrified shoulders. "If ye wanted a slice of the cake, ye could've just asked. I dinnae mind sharin'."

Simon gives him a borderline-demented look, puts his tea down on the counter, and clears his throat.

"When?"

[heich0e]

yuuji calls sukuna a lot.

it's almost like second nature to him now, muscle memory even, so many years since getting his first cellphone; any time he finds himself idle, maybe on his walk home after his part-time job, or on a break between his college classes, he picks up his phone and dials his older brother without thinking. they never talk about anything of importance—maybe just what yuuji did that day, or some gossip he overheard, or what the two of them should have that night for dinner—but he still makes the call.

sukuna always acts annoyed when he answers, greeting him with a characteristically terse 'yeah, what?' that yuuji never pays any mind to. but he still answers the call—at least most of the time—and that simple truth speaks volumes in and of itself.

sukuna's phone rings at a few minutes past 1am, and his little brother's name lights up the caller ID.

"yeah, what?" sukuna snaps groggily, holding his phone up to his ear. he'd passed out on the couch soon after he got home from work, a half-drunk and now room temperature can of beer left abandoned on the table in front of his spread knees. yuuji's babbling starts as soon as the call connects and his brother greets him, and it takes sukuna a moment to make sense of him.

"—'n now i can't finder!"

"the hell are you talking about, dumbass?" the elder of the two grumbles, scrubbing a hand across his face. his brother's voice is panicked and hard to understand.

"we got spliddup at the bar, 'n now i dunno where she is anymore—"

"don't know where who is? fuck, are you hammered?" sukuna complains, sitting himself upright on the sofa as he wipes sleep from the corner of his eyes, suddenly a bit more awake than he was when the phone first rang.

yuuji says your name with a croaking, worried voice, and sukuna sighs exasperatedly. he stares down pensively at the can of beer he forgot to drink on the coffee table, then his eyes flicker to a framed photo hanging on the wall across the room—the glass smudged, frame slightly crooked, and photograph sun-bleached from the years it's spent hanging there.

"just..." he grunts as he pushes himself up to his feet, "fuckin' send me the address and stay where you are, idiot."

it's not hard to find his little brother once he arrives to the address yuuji sent him—especially since the youngest itadori brother is waiting (as promised) right by the entrance of the familiar bar near the university campus where both you and yuuji attend classes. it's still busy for so late in the night, but the clubs are closed now and little bars like this are the only places still open. sukuna's not even sure what the difference is anyway, because the lights here are still dim and the music is loud and there are still people dancing off to one side of the establishment, so the distinction between the two seems tenuous if not entirely negligible. but as someone who's spent his fair share of nights in bars just like (and including) this one, he's usually not really one to complain.

but tonight's different.

yuuji is teetering a bit when his brother arrives—an unusual sight, considering he's usually pretty good at holding his liquor.

"shit, how much did you drink?" are the first words out of sukuna's mouth when he approaches.

the youngest itadori's cheeks are flushed as pink as his hair, and he grimaces in the wake of the eldest's question—he's always been a terrible liar, especially when it comes to his brother, so he doesn't even bother trying to deny it. sukuna doesn't wait for a response in any case, turning his head towards the thick of the crowd and letting his eyes scan through it.

he doesn't see you.

"where'd you see her last?" he asks, leaning towards his brother to be heard over the music.

"by the bar!" yuuji replies, raising his own voice to overcome the bass. "she said she was getting one last drink, but she never came back to the table."

yuuji's lip wobbles a bit as he concludes his sentence, but he sucks it quickly into his mouth and catches it between his teeth.

"and you looked for her?" sukuna asks again.

"all over," yuuji nods, letting his lip slip out from between the bite of his incisors to reply. "fushiguro's doing another lap. nobara's checking the bathrooms."

sukuna ruffles a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing it's probably a mess from his rudely-interrupted slumber. "maybe she just left or somethin'."

"she wouldn't do that, you know that," yuuji says firmly. there's an insistence burning behind his eyes as he looks to his older brother, and it's the most sober he's seemed all night.

sukuna rolls his eyes, even though he knows yuuji's right—you'd never leave on your own, much less without so much as a goodbye. the two of you have been joined at the hip for long enough he's almost surprised that yuuji wasn't able to find you with some weird telepathic form of echolocation. he swings an arm up over his little brother's shoulders pushing him down a little just to tease him, before using his grip to tug him towards the crowd.

"you track down that little sea urchin friend of yours and i'll take a look around. meet me back here in ten minutes or text me if you find that little pest, alright?"

the bar is harder to navigate the further in sukuna travels from the entrance, the bodies pressing closer together with every step he takes away from fresh night air. he's pissed off, but that's not out of character for him. he's more pissed off than he usually is, considering not even an hour before he'd been peacefully sleeping at home, and now he's glaring at some drunk college kid who just almost spilled their beer on him.

"move," he hisses through his teeth at the wide-eyed kid whose life he can practically see flashing through his eyes as he shoulders past him. sukuna would be lying if he said the look didn't improve his mood at least marginally.

as sukuna weaves through the bodies in the bar, his eyes don't stop looking for you. it's almost startling how quickly he can rule people out—how definitively he can say that someone is or isn't you with just a passing glance. he starts to doubt himself as he reaches the far corner of the bar and begins to round back towards the entrance, an annoying, grating irritation in the back of his mind. worry, maybe, if he were the type.

then he sees you.

just the faintest glimpse of your profile, caught behind the shoulder of the man who has you backed into a corner by a pillar, hidden mostly away from the crowd—at least as hidden as anyone can be in a place like this.

sukuna feels his lip curling into a furious sneer as he takes a step towards you—people move out of his path wordlessly as he trudges over to that dark corner where you're tucked away.

it's only when he gets a bit closer that he's able to read the lines of your body properly. you're teetering, just like yuuji had been—the two of you had probably enabled each other in your intoxication that night like the stupid kids sukuna knows you both to be. but you're also distinctly uncomfortable, pressed up against the wall as if to put as much distance between you and the man hovering over you as you possibly can. your eyes glance off to the side, like you're searching uselessly for an escape.

instead, they meet his.

"sukuna," you gasp out in surprise, and the man you're speaking to glances over his shoulder in confusion. he seems annoyed, and a bit nervous, when he spots the man (taller, and broader than he is) standing behind him with a scowl.

sukuna hears the relief in your voice when you say his name. reads it behind your glassy eyes.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, reaching out towards him clumsily.

the man in front of you puts a hand on your waist—possibly to steady you, more likely to stop you—and it makes sukuna see red.

"hands off," sukuna snaps, wrapping a hand around your upper arm and tugging you into his side away from the creep.

"who's this? you said you don't have a boyfriend," the kid asks you, jutting a thumb towards sukuna accusatorially.

you mumble something quietly in reply about him being yuuji's brother, tucking yourself a bit closer to sukuna as you say it.

"your brother?" he asks as his eyes squint in confusion, having clearly only caught part of your explanation. "you're ditching me for your brother?"

sukuna's anger flares again at the entitlement this little brat has the nerve to display so flagrantly. the older man's hand slips down to your waist on instinct, and then lower still to the curve of your ass, making a show of how his big hand grips into the flesh beneath it. you squeak quietly at the contact, turning and hiding your burning face against sukuna's chest. he keeps his hand right where it is.

the stranger's eyes widen at the inappropriate display before him and sukuna leans in close with a vicious, almost manic grin.

"we're very close."

[forcemeanakin]

Anakin Skywalker: A headboard gripper

WARNING: Nsfw content !!! Content: p in v sex, cream pie, dirty talk. A headboard was, in fact, hurt during the production of this drabble. Not proofread and written in the middle of the night after uni classes lol.

shoutout to my friend Emma for asking me this incredible question and fueling my drained mind to write something <3

Ofc he is a headboard gripper!

Using it as leverage to fuck deeper into you, yes sir

But I think he would use it specifically to get you full of him

He's strong af and he has the Force... this? yeah, this is to assert dominance

You're already stuffed by his thick cock, but he needs more: he wants to drown every single one of your senses, until the only thing you could do is feel him, taste him, see him.

Hazy vision, your sweaty body sticky and pressed to his. Hair out of line and all over your face. You're the most wonderful mess he has ever seen.

You borderline sound like a porn star, whimpering so high and loud, moaning his name because that's the only thing you could remember.

Legs wrapped around his waist, your ankles pushing his fit butt so he thrusts harder. Your boobs are bouncing to the rhythm of his hips and he takes the opportunity to rest his face in between them.

You crave more, your spongy walls convulsing around him in the hope to milk him for all of his worth.

Who is he to deny you your orgasm... any longer than he already has?

"You close, baby?" He pants, flexing his arms while he lowers his head to lick the drool off the corner of your mouth.

"Mmph-" You roll your eyes, so into the sub space of your mind to answer a real word. "Ani..." You indulge his desire to hear your voice, just for a bit.

"Yeah, my baby's close. Clenching around me like a vice." He hums half a groan, half a moan. "Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

"I-I-" You whine when he reangles to hit your G-spot better. "I want more!" You cry out loud, clasping his shoulders to survive the hellish pace he had set.

"More what, pretty girl?" He cocks a narcissistic eyebrow, looking down at your pathetic face.

And that's when he does it. Stretching his arm over his head, he grips the headboard of the shaking bed and hammers faster into you. And now he is everything you can see. Just like he wanted.

He knows the view of his abs curling as his hips buck forward drove you crazy every time. If it wasn't because you indeed love to see his chiseled torso, you would have already shut him up.

"More cock!" You quiver underneath him, completely in trance with the sight of a drip of sweat falling from his pecs and his toned bicep tensing at the effort. Veins popping to show off his strength. "More you." You moan in the low.

Side note: I also think Anakin has broken a shit ton of headboards, specially when he is gripping them with his mechanical hand.

He just can't measure his strength !!!!

Also he would totally be like: "want me to fix that?", MID FUCK AND PANTING LIKE THE SLUT HE IS

and yeah ofc he repairs what he broke

except for your pussy

[dewwinchester]

stitches | d.w.

synopsis: dean texts you for help, and you drop everything for him.

requested by: @dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy

pairing: pre-series!dean winchester x reader

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: fluff, some angst, john winchester, blood, wounds/injury, stitching up wounds, typical spn series warnings. no use of y/n, no pronouns used!

a/n: if john winchester has no haters, i'm dead <33 also, it's currently 12am, so if the editing is a little wonky, pls forgive me

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as you navigated through the torrential downpour hammering down around you and your car. The rain was relentless, blinding you as it pounded against the windshield. The smell of wet asphalt filled your car as the tires slipped on the rain-soaked road. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears – a mixture of adrenaline from trying to avoid a horrific car wreck and anxiety from the message still illuminating your car in a dim light.

I need your help.

It wasn’t a message you were expecting. Normally, in your line of work, pleas for help came in the form of a frantic phone call or a scream in the dark. They never came in the form of a random text message.

And they never came from Dean Winchester.

You were having a relatively normal night, working a case and staking out a couple of vamps, when your phone buzzed with several messages from Dean. First, he asked if you were busy. Then, he asked if you were nearby. Moments later, he sent you an address to a motel. Then, came the message that caused you to leave the stakeout completely and go frantically speeding down the road.

Your tires screeched as you rounded a corner. The neon light of the motel soon appeared ahead, its reflection dancing across the many puddles on the asphalt. You pulled into the first parking spot you saw and stepped out of your car. The rain immediately soaked you to the bone, wetting your hair and your clothes, sending a chill through you, but you couldn't find yourself caring as your eyes scanned for Dean's room number.

The motel was rather seedy-looking – more so than normal. The wooden palings were splitting, and the paint was chipping off the trimmings and walls. There wasn't any other car in sight. You wondered just how bad things were if Dean had found himself in a place like this.

Once you found his room, you practically ran over to the door and threw it open, not bothering to knock. Your eyes immediately landed on Dean, who sat on the edge of one of the beds, his back to you. A wave of relief washed over you – he was alive – but the sight of his tense shoulders and the untouched beer bottle in his hand kept your anxiety simmering.

You closed the door behind you and took off your saturated jacket, leaving it next to Dean's leather one.

"Hey," you said with a sigh, "You okay?"

Dean responded with a curt nod but said nothing more. You stepped closer to him and placed your hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, and you felt a pang in your chest. When you finally got close enough, you quickly scanned his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual, and his normally sharp gaze was clouded with exhaustion. HIs hair was wet and spiky, and his lip trembled from the cold.

Your eyes continued to trail down to his side, where his shirt clung to his skin, dark and wet with blood. Three jagged and deep gashes spread across Dean's side. His shirt was torn.

Your eyes widened as panic once again surged through you. You frantically looked around for anything you could use to stop the bleeding. You grabbed the first towel you could get your hands on and pressed it to his side, grimacing when Dean winced in pain.

"Jesus, Dean. What the hell happened?"

"Werewolf," he gritted out.

"I think you're gonna need stitches."

There was no first aid kit in sight, so your mind began running through alternatives. You could go to the front desk and ask if there were any supplies, but asking for anything more than a simple band-aid would cause suspicion, and the last thing you needed was someone knocking on the door asking too many questions.

You could use dental floss. You had known plenty of hunters that used it in the past and not had a problem, but you weren't sure there were any needles…

"There's a sewing kit in the bathroom."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You read my mind."

“One of my many talents.” 

----

Needle, thread, dental floss, tissues, water. You looked over the supplies in front of you, mind racing at a million miles an hour. Despite being a hunter yourself, you weren’t exactly a natural when it came to stitching wounds and performing first aid. In fact, the sight of too much blood caused your head to throb and your legs to go numb.

Dean had already taken off his shirt, leaving you to see the full extent of his injuries. The gashes started at the top of his ribs and curled around to his left shoulder blade. Blood continued to trail down his back, causing your mouth to go dry. Pins and needles tingled your toes, and the room began to spin…

You shook off your thoughts and shifted your weight between your two feet, hoping to get some blood flow back there. You put your thoughts and discomfort behind you and prepared to begin. 

“This isn’t gonna feel great,” you said, trying to control the shake in your voice. 

“Not my first time,” he replied. 

You grabbed the needle and thread, and – with shaky hands – tried your best to thread the cotton through the eye. You sat behind him, deciding to start around his shoulder. With a damp cloth, you tried your best to clean around the area, whispering apologies whenever Dean flinched. 

“What happened?” you asked quietly, using your gentlest touch to guide the needle through. 

“I told you,” he said through gritted teeth, “werewolf.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” you trailed off. “Where’s your dad?” 

Dean clenched his jaw, and you immediately knew you had touched on a rough subject. Throughout the time that you had known Dean, you had learnt his relationship with his father was far from healthy. John Winchester was not your favourite person in the world. In fact, you and Dean had gotten into plenty of arguments about him in the past. 

“He’s not here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, continuing your stitching. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Do we have to do this–?”

“--Yes.”

Dean sighed, scrubbing his hand down his face. The anger and tension radiating off him was palpable, his shoulders were tense and his breathing was heavy. You finished stitching the first gash, and tied the thread off with a neat little knot. Instead of immediately moving on to the next one, you moved around and knelt in front of Dean so you were eye level. You placed a hand on his right knee and traced gentle circles into his skin with your thumb. You raised your eyebrows, sending him a look that was simultaneously stern and empathetic.

You just wanted to know he was okay.

“We’d been stakin’ out the thing for weeks,” Dean began. “We finally pinpointed it to this boathouse. Dad was sure that it was in there, so he sent me in first to sweep the area.”

“And…?”

“Turns out it was a lot smarter than we thought,” Dean said, a dejected smile on his lips. “It was waitin’ there for us. Dad knew, but I didn’t.” 

“Then why did he send you in there?”

Dean shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. But the thing had me on the ground before I even realized what was goin’ on. Put it’s claws in me and ran.”

You shuddered. 

“Dad didn’t stay,” Dean continued. “The second he realised it jumped ship, he went too. Left me with my phone and wallet… I walked here.” 

“What?” 

If Dean’s anger was palpable, you were damn-near irate. You pressed your lips together, trying to control yourself from spewing all sorts of profanities. If you had it your way, you would have marched your way up to John Winchester and given him what for. You would have knocked his lights out if Dean had let you. 

You stood and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes.

"He – you? God!"

"Alright hot-head, calm down."

"No, I will not calm down!" You spun on your heel, turning to face him again. "Your own father left you for dead!"

"He's done worse."

You laughed bitterly. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Alright," Dean sighed, raising a hand to stop your tirade. "I'm okay! I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Oh yeah, you're the pinnacle of okay."

"Your sarcasm isn't helping."

You shook your head. Angry tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you were too stubborn to let them fall.

"I just wish you would understand that you deserve better," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You could leave his ass behind any time you like -"

"Oh yeah? And then what?"

You paused, and looked down to your feet. 

"You could come with me?" 

For half a second, Dean smiled. “You and I would kill each other in half an hour.” 

He was right – but you’d never let him admit it. 

“Why’d you text me then?” You asked. “If we’re just gonna kill one another–”

Dean shot you a pointed look. 

“– I’m serious.” You said. 

Dean stood up with a groan and walked over to you. You stood with your arms crossed, a slight frown creasing your brow. Nothing could be heard but the rain that battered against the windows and the thundering of your own heartbeat in your ears. 

Dean tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear, “You’re the first one I thought of… The only one I wanted here.” 

A blush crept onto your cheeks and you shook your head fondly. “You’re fantastic at changing the subject.” 

Dean winked, but his smooth-talking was soon replaced by a painful scowl. 

“Let’s finish this up later, shall we? I’d rather not bleed to death.” 

You helped Dean back to the bed and prepared to finish stitching him up. You knew this was far from over – with Dean, it never was – but for now, you would focus on the rain that pattered against the roof and the relief that Dean was with you, safe. 

[diorcities]

running your teeth over jeno's sensitive tip and watching him roll his eyes makes you feel haughty. knowing you've got him at your complete mercy, a mess of grunts and involuntary spasms as your tongue curls and tease with the slit of his cock, savoring his salty precum on your palate while his heavy, dark gaze is fixed on you. teary eyes as a plaintive moan leaves his lips when you slide his penis deeper into your warm mouth, and your tongue presses against his shaft. it feels so full you have to close your eyes, drool at the corner of my mouth that you slurp when you take it out to pepper wet kisses up and down his length, “nice job, doll.”

numb legs and body in a sedative state as haechan eats you in front of the mirror. he wants to make you see how hauntingly breathtaking you look with your teary-doe eyes and haunted features every time he makes you feel this good. lips nibbling and sucking on your folds before his tongue attacks the swollen area of your clit. teasing it around and exerting pressure that causes your body to react in a spasm and scream. humming against your cunt and making a stream of pleasure run through you as he fiddles with the entrance, “eyes in the mirror, honey. you don't want to miss a bit.” fingers enter the scene when he pushes them inside your needy pussy.

hearing chenle's cocky laugh when you go nonverbal. mouth letting out breathy sounds and choked moans as he hits your sweet spot over and over again. pelvis hammering you into you, rocking his dick in and out with hard thrusts. beads of sweat forming on his chest pale from the effort he's been making for the last hour, prolonging the moment to nut and fucking you mercilessly, head in subspace by how good he's riling you, the painful knot of your belly growing and loosening every time you cum and squirt all over his cock. “fuuck, that's so hot, angel.”

messy make out with jisung as he buries his cock in your abused pussy. steady pace driving you crazy and clawing at the taut skin of his shoulder blades. choking out a hiss in your throat while he pounds you with mighty thrusts on the countertop of a nightclub bathroom after you grind on him and his growing bulge from the way you were dancing. “fuck, baby, fuck, i'm cuming.” ruined and wrinkled clothes, underwear thrown to the side because he needs you and your tight pussy. so eager and excited his pants are halfway down and your lipstick is now all smudged over his mouth.

stripping you of sleep by jaemin's cock sliding inside you in the middle of the night. arms holding you close to his chest as he inserts himself into you with smooth, fluid strokes. arching closer to him to go deeper, eyes rolling back and mouth spilling hoarse grunts when he speeds up. chest pressed hard against the mattress as he holds on to the headboard and his thrusts become wilder, mind in pure bliss. “does it feel good? fuck it does.” turned into a rag doll, forced down as he fucks you dumb, feeling the sedative and numb effect run through your entire body.

riding mark on the dining table. hands gripping the table in front of you hearing him sound so affected as you bob over his dick. squelching sounds coming from the motion followed by your moans and pants from getting tired. hands quickly going to assist you and pronouncing the thrusts more. harder and frenetic. whines and sobs forming in your throat because it's too much to handle, his movements becoming more eager and desperate, groping your waist as he let out a guttural growl, “you're doing so great, baby. keep up.”

dry humping with renjun, feeling his bulge grow as you rock your clothed pussy over him. the hardness of his erection pressing against your wet folds, soaking his underwear with your arousal, hands going down his length to run your nails up and down, making him moan loudly. “need to fuck you, yn, please.” thrusting his hips at you when he gets needy to put his dick inside your warm walls. both releasing a pleasurable exhale as he guides his tip inside with ease, digits going to your clit as you shove it completely in and start to ride him.

[johnypage95]

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[angelbwrry]

sex for dummies. eren j.

cw 𐙚 kissing, kissing, andddddd more kissing. eren is smart and wants to learn how to fuck, you’re a bimbo cheerleader with experience under your belt who needs help in math!

𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝑒: 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔

You sit in the stark, colorless classroom, feeling the weight of monotony pressing down on you. The walls are bare, devoid of any inspirational posters or artwork, and the fluorescent lights cast a harsh, uninviting glow over everything. The incessant clicking of a pen behind you riddles you with irritation, each click like a tiny hammer tapping against your skull. You try to focus on the teacher, but his bored voice drones on about the rules of precalculus, and you can't help but tune it out.

Your attention drifts to your pink ringed notebook, its cover already filled with an array of drawings, each one a testament to your boredom. You’ve always been an artist, yet you’ve never had the energy or the opportunity to truly pursue your talents. So here they stay, confined to the pages of this littered notebook. As you sketch, your mind wanders, and you lose yourself in the lines and shapes forming under your pencil.

But the tapping of the pen behind you grows louder, its continuous rhythm grating on your nerves. You try to ignore it, but it becomes impossible, each click pulling you further away from your thoughts. Frustration builds inside you, and you begin to scribble harder, pressing the pencil into the paper with more force than necessary. Suddenly, the lead snaps, breaking the fragile silence you had tried to create.

You whirl around to face the boy behind you, your eyes blazing with anger. "Tap it again and I’ll shove it down your throat," you seethe, your voice low and menacing. The boy looks at you, his eyes wide with terror, and he nods quickly, his hand frozen mid-click. Satisfied, you turn back around.

Mr. Johnson, the math teacher, stands at the front of the classroom, his voice clear as he explained yet another problem. The chalkboard was filled with equations, each symbol meticulously written to illustrate the problems.

"Alright, class," Mr. Johnson said, turning back to face the students, "let's solve this equation together. What do we need to do first?" Hands shot up across the room, but in the back corner, you sat quietly, staring at your notebook. The numbers and letters seemed to blur together, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't make sense of the steps Mr. Johnson was explaining.

"We should rewrite the equation.”

Your ears perked up at the familiar raspy voice. Eren Jaeger, the typical nerd whizz kid. He always wore these rimmed glasses that seemed to be perpetually sliding down his face. You could never get a good look at his face, though, because if his head wasn’t down, his messy raven hair was in his face. He seemed like a shy, reserved nerd.

You’d only spoken to him once or twice, and each time you’d asked to borrow a pencil. Eren effortlessly broke down the problem until it was solved. You envied his brain. Mr. Johnson moved on to the next equation, and your anxiety grew as you found yourself zoning out, probably why your grades were suffering now.

You knew you needed help, but you were too embarrassed to raise your hand and admit you didn't understand. You scribbled in your pink spiraled notebook, trying to make sense of the previous examples, but the more you looked, the more confused you became.

You doodled a picture of Hello Kitty, lip mindlessly caught in your teeth.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and you quickly packed your things, hoping to escape unnoticed. But as you reached the door, Mr. Johnson called out, "Y/N, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Shit.

You froze, your heart pounding. You turned slowly and walked back to Mr. Johnson's desk, avoiding eye contact. Your anxiety spiked as you awaited what he was going to say. Would he threaten to call your parents again, threaten to get you taken off the cheer team? Or would he make you stay back for after-hour tutoring again?

"Uh, yeah sure," you stumbled out nervously, fingers pulling at the edge of your uniform skirt as you averted your eyes to him.

"I noticed you drifting off in class. In order for me to help you, I need you to want to be helped," he sighed, pulling his glasses over his tired face. "I know you're on the team and practice can be weighing with classes. I can talk to your coach—"

"No, no. That's not needed, I swear I'll do better, just please don't talk to coach," you pleaded desperately, her last words playing through your head like a broken record.

If your grades drop any lower, I'll have to suspend you.

He gave you a look; you couldn't tell what kind of look seeing as his face was always stoic. After what seemed like an eternity, he nodded, folding his arms over his chest."Fine, I would suggest pairing up with someone to study over the weekend. We'll have a pop quiz come early Monday morning."

Shit, Monday. How the fuck did he expect you to cram an entire semester of math equations into your head in two damn days? You wanted to throw a fit, but you kept your composure, lips curled tightly in disdain as you nodded your head before spinning on your heels and leaving.

You walked out into the hallway, your mind racing. You needed help, and fast. Just then, you spotted Eren Jaeger, the nerdy guy from your class, at his locker.

"Hey, Eren," you called out, trying to sound as casual as possible.

He looked up, surprised to see you. "Oh, hey... Y/N, right?"

"Yeah, that's me," you said, forcing a smile. "Listen, I need a favor."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "What kind of favor?"

"I need help with math. Like, desperately," you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"Mr. Johnson said I need to study with someone this weekend or I'm screwed. And I know you're really good at it..."

Eren sighed, closing his locker. "So, you want me to help you? Why should I? You never even talk to me unless you need something."

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I really need this, Eren. I'll do anything. I'll even pay you if that's what it takes."

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "It's not about the money, Y/N. It's about respect. You think just because you're popular, you can use people like me whenever it's convenient for you."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I don't think that, I swear. I just... I don't know what else to do. Please, Eren. I'm begging you."

He sighed again, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Fine. I'll help you. But not because of the money. Because everyone deserves a second chance. Just... don't make me regret this.Take my number.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you typed your number in his phone. "Thank you, Eren. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, grabbing his backpack.

"Meet me at the library after school. And be on time."

"I will, I promise," you said, smiling genuinely for the first time that day. "Thanks again, Eren." As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn around after all.

Eren was going to kill you. Not only were you late for your study session, but you were also on babysitting duty. Your parents had dropped it on you at the last minute that they had to attend a dinner for your dad’s boss, seeing as he was trying to get promoted.

"Mom, Dad, I can't babysit tonight! I have a tutoring session with Eren at the library," you protested, your voice rising in frustration.

"Sweetie, this dinner is very important for your father’s career," your mom replied, barely looking up from her phone. "You can miss one study session."

"Are you serious? I can't just cancel on him last minute! And it’s not just one session, it's important," you argued, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

"Enough," your dad said sharply. "We provide everything you need. The least you can do is help out when we ask."

"But you never consider my feelings! You just throw money at me and think it solves everything," you shot back, your voice trembling with anger.

"Watch your tone, young lady," your dad warned, his eyes narrowing. "We expect you to handle this responsibly."

Irritation riddled your body as you watched them pull off in the BMW, leaving you with your hyper eight-year-old sister.

"Fuck," You clenched your fists, feeling the weight of your little sister's expectant eyes on you. It wasn’t just the babysitting; it was everything. The constant disregard for your time, your feelings, your life. They never seemed to care unless it was about them.

All they did was throw money at you, thinking it would make up for their absence, their coldness. They were always so distant, so wrapped up in their own world. It was like you were just an afterthought, a responsibility they had to manage rather than a person they cared about.

Deep down, you resented them for it. For always making you feel like you were second place to their careers, their social lives, their needs.

You were tired of being the one who had to pick up the pieces, who had to be responsible because they couldn’t be bothered. They never listen,you thought bitterly. They never care.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you turned around to face your little sister. Her big, innocent eyes were filled with curiosity and concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her small hand reaching out to touch yours.

You forced a smile, squeezing her hand gently. "Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, not wanting to burden her with your frustrations.

“Come on, it's time for bed."

She nodded, trusting you completely, and you led her upstairs to her room. The soft glow of her pink nightlight cast a warm, comforting light over the room. You helped her into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and tucking her in snugly.

"Why are you stressed?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's nothing, really," you reassured her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Just some grown-up stuff. You don't need to worry about it."

She looked up at you with those big, trusting eyes, and you felt a pang of guilt for not being completely honest. But you knew she was too young to understand the complexities of your feelings.

You leaned down and kissed her forehead, smoothing the covers over her small frame. "Sweet dreams, little one," you whispered. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

She smiled sleepily, her eyes already beginning to close. "Goodnight," she murmured.

You watched her for a moment, making sure she was settled before turning off the main light and leaving the room. As you leave the room, you couldn't help but feel a mix of love and frustration. Your sister was so innocent, so unaware of the burdens you carried. But for her sake, you would carry them all.

Your phone buzzes, and you see Eren's name on the screen. You take a deep breath before answering, knowing he's probably annoyed.

"Hey," you say cautiously.

"Where are you?" Eren's voice is sharp. "I'm at the library, and you're not here."

You feel a pang of guilt. "I'm really sorry, Eren. My parents stuck me on babysitting duty last minute. I couldn't leave my little sister alone."

There's a brief silence on the other end, and you can almost feel Eren's frustration through the phone. "Can I come over?" he finally asks.

You hesitate, then offer, "Yes, please. I can even pay you extra for the trouble."

Eren is quiet for a moment, and you hold your breath. "Alright," he says eventually. "I'll be over in twenty."

"Thank you so much, Eren," you say, relief washing over you.

"Yeah, yeah," he replies, trying to sound indifferent but you can sense the concern in his voice. "See you soon."

You hang up, feeling a bit lighter. You glance at your little sister, who's fast asleep, and crack the door to her room slightly, making sure she's still peacefully resting. At least you have someone who understands and is willing to help out.

Twenty minutes later, you hear a knock on the door. You open it to find Eren standing there, looking around in awe. "Wow," he mutters, stepping inside.

“Your house is huge. It looks like a mansion. I think you could fit my house in here three times." Eren says as he steps in, his eyes widen, taking in the high ceilings and elegant decor.Man, this place is massive. He knew you lived well, but this is next level. He shakes his head slightly, trying to hide his amazement. I could probably get lost in here.

You smile sheepishly, a bit embarrassed by the size of your home. "Yeah, it is pretty big. Thanks for coming over, Eren."

Eren nods, still looking around. This is like something out of a movie. I bet she has her own bathroom too.

“No problem," he says, shaking his head as if trying to process the grandeur of your house. You can’t help but stare at him, you’ve never seen him outside of school uniform and it’s hard not to gawk at the tight red compression shirt he’s wearing. His muscles flex underneath it enticingly, your eyes catching ink under his sleeves.His long hair is pulled back and you’re in awe, he’s beautiful.He’s not wearing his glasses tonight, you wonder why,but decide not to pester him.

You notice you’re staring and pull your eyes away,”we’ll study in my room.”

Eren nods,”lead the way.”

Eren tried to fight the way his erection grew as he walked behind you, your round ass in his face. Damn, you look gorgeous. You always looked gorgeous, but like this? It's almost too much.Your hair was pulled into a ponytail, edges laid neatly. The compression shorts you wore had his mind swirling with unholy thoughts, and your shirt was short enough to see your boobs peeking out. God, control yourself, Eren. This is not the time.

And then there was your scent—a perfect mix of cinnamon and vanilla. It was intoxicating, pulling him deeper into his thoughts. You smell so good. He was pulled from his reverie as you pushed open the door to your room. It was just as luxurious as the rest of your house, pink and white themed. Cozy, with pristine tan carpet. The room smelled amazing, and Eren figured you were probably a clean freak, given how spotless everything was. This place is incredible. How do you keep it so perfect?

Eren took a moment to steady himself, trying to focus on anything other than the way you looked and smelled. Get it together, Eren. You're here to help, not to get distracted.But it was easier said than done, and he couldn't help but silently admire you, hoping you wouldn't notice the effect you had on him.

“Geez, is there anything small in this house.” Eren jokes, taking a seat on the bed.You giggle, shutting the door closed before plopping down beside him, ignoring the way your stomach churns when those green eyes look at you.

“My parents are the materialistic type, as you can see.”

He scoffs, yeah no shit.

“I figured out how you can pay me,” Eren finally speaks up, you quip an eyebrow at him.

“Teach me how to have sex,”

You nearly choke on your spit.

“W-what?”

“Like how to kiss a girl and finger her, y’know.Each time we study you’ll teach me a new thing.” He trails off, his olive skin is bright red.

You cross your arms over your shoulder,”what makes you think I’m not a virgin?”

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing,”Just the schools drama page has a photo of you folded in the back of Connie’s truck.”

You roll your eyes, God, how embarrassing.Connie was your ex, typical football player, dumber than a damn rock.You really need to pass, and Eren is really cute, you don’t mind taking his virginity. You sigh after a few minutes,”Fine.but don’t go around running your mouth about this.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He's sitting right in front of you, looking a bit unsure but eager to learn. You smile softly, wanting to make this moment as sweet and memorable as possible.

"Alright, first things first," you say gently, placing your hands on his shoulders. "It's important to relax and just be in the moment. Kissing should feel natural and comfortable." You look into his eyes, trying to convey your confidence and warmth. "Let's start with something simple. Just lean in slowly."

He mirrors your actions, leaning in slightly. You can feel his breath on your lips, and it makes your heart race a little.

"Close your eyes," you whisper, and he does. You do the same, letting the moment envelop you both. The world around you fades, and it's just the two of you, sharing this intimate space.

"Now, just a gentle touch," you instruct, your voice barely above a whisper. You press your lips softly against his, just a light, tender kiss. It's sweet and innocent, and you can feel him relax a bit. You pull back slightly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his.

"See? That's not so hard," you giggle, a playful smile dancing on your lips. He smiles back, looking more confident now.

"Let's try it again, but this time, add a little more pressure," you say, leaning in once more.

As your lips meet again, you guide him with gentle pressure, showing him how to move in sync with you. "Tilt your head a bit," you murmur against his lips, and he follows your lead. The kiss deepens, becoming more natural and fluid. You can feel the connection growing, the rhythm of your movements syncing perfectly.

"Perfect," you say, breaking the kiss and smiling up at him.

"You're a quick learner."

He chuckles, looking both relieved and happy. "Just remember, it's all about the connection. Feel the moment and let it guide you."

You decide to show him a bit more. "Now, let's try something a little different," you say, your voice soft and encouraging.

"When you kiss, you can also use your hands to express how you feel." You gently take his hand and place it on your waist. "See? This can make the kiss feel more intimate."

He nods, his touch tentative but growing bolder. You lean in again, this time letting your hands slide up to his neck, your fingers gently playing with the hair at the nape. The kiss is deeper now, more passionate, yet still tender. You can feel his confidence building with each moment.

"That's it," you whisper as you pull away for a breath. "You're doing amazing." He smiles, his eyes sparkling with newfound assurance.

"One last thing," you add, your tone playful. "Don't be afraid to explore a bit. Kissing can be fun and playful too."

You lean in for one more kiss, this time letting it linger a bit longer. Your lips move together in a dance, sometimes slow and sweet, other times more eager and passionate. It's a perfect blend of emotions, and you can feel the bond between you.

As you pull away, you see the sparkle in his eyes, and you know he's got it. "Thank you," he says softly, his voice filled with gratitude. You smile, feeling a warm glow inside.

"Anytime," you reply, knowing that this is just the beginning.

His face is bright red, dick pressing uncomfortably in his pants.You’d be lying if you said the heat between your legs wasn’t there.He scratches his eyebrow nervously,”we should probably get studying.”

reblogs, comments and likes are highly appreciated! bye🫧

part 2

[spamsass]

tojii....

stars…space…take out…wingstop…filled up…being filled up…toji…toji..toji—

you were suddenly snapped out of your daze with a few playful pats to your face, now subconsciously waking up to a now smirking toji. he gazed down at you with that all too knowing look in his eyes.

“you spacin’ out on me, pretty girl?” his husky voice alone made your walls clench hard against length.

“hm, like being called ‘pretty girl’, huh, ma?” he chuckled, watching a line of drool run down the corner of your mouth as he picked up some speed. the tufts of his hair pressing against your pelvis as his hips slammed against yours at a brutal pace.

his large hand pressed down where the prominent belly bulge was, redirecting his thrusts straight at your bruised cervix. “c’mon, ma. dont tap out on me now.” 

“t-toji…” you whimpered— a whine suddenly escaping your lips as toji playfully slapped one of your pretty tits, groping them roughly as a half-assed apology. “m’favourite girls…” he mumbled against your tits.

so far he had your ankles acting as his earings, the stretch in your muscles having gone numb after being stuck like this for an hour. or was it two? how many times had you cum already? whichever number it was, toji wasnt gonna stop anytime soon: opting to put you through a full 12 hours of a sex marathon…or until you tap out.

he knows his old ass wont last any longer than 5 hours, so he’s leaning on his bets that you’ll tap out after this orgasm — hence why he’s currently jack hammering into your overly sensitive cunt, basking in your cries and pleads for him to slow down and give you a break.

“toj-tojii! c-cant! cant c-cum an-anymore—!” his sharp eyes snapped down to where your smaller hand pressed against his pelvis, doing your absolute best to cut down on the overstimulating pleasure.

right when you were about to let out another sinful cry, a rough and calloused hand slapped over your mouth slobbering, his left hand still gripping your bruised hips tight. “no can do, pretty girl. jus’ shut up and take daddy’s cock like the angel you are, hm?”

[senascoop]

☁︎ . , PINNED DESIRES , P.SH ! 18+

PAIRING: senior ! sunghoon × junior ! afab reader. . . SYNOPSIS: In the secluded history club room, your college senior, Sunghoon Park, corners you with a commanding presence. What starts as a playful confrontation quickly ignites into a heated, passionate encounter. With the cold stone wall as your backdrop, Sunghoon’s touch reveals his intense desire, transforming your nervousness into a thrilling experience. . . GENRE: smut, college au. . . WARNING(S): nsfw, smut, mdni, kisses, lack of aftercare, unprotected sex, semi public setting (?), size kink, uses of word ‘sunbae’ which basically means senior who you are close to, lack of verbal consent, little dirty talk, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything. . . WC: 1.6k. . . m.list : : enhypen mini series

♫︎ REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED

Little did you expect to find yourself entwined with an older guy, let alone your college senior. Park Sunghoon, his name whispered in your mind as he pinned you against the cold, stone wall of the history club room. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing you both in a private sanctuary.

His broad shoulders filled the space, his presence commanding yet gentle. One hand braced against the wall beside your head, fingers splayed wide, while the other traced patterns on your wrist, his touch light, almost tentative, belying the firm pressure of his hips against yours.

His gaze flicked between your eyes and your parted lips, his voice a low rumble, "You're not supposed to be here this late, are you?" His breath mingled with yours, warmth brushing against your face. You moistened your lips, hesitating before replying, "The library..."

"...was closed," you finished, your voice barely above a whisper. Sunghoon's eyes never left yours, his thumb tracing small circles on your wrist as he leaned in closer, his face hovering just inches from yours. "I see," he murmured, his breath fanning across your lips,

"Why so shy all of a sudden?" Sunghoon asked, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. The question was playful, but there was undeniable heat behind it. You glanced down at your hands, your heart hammering in your chest. "I... I wasn't..."

Sunghoon's index finger gently tilted your chin back up, his touch gentle yet insistent. "No?" he challenged softly, his face inches away. "Because I've noticed you staring at me before. And now, here we are, alone..."

"And you're nervous now," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why?" His hand left your chin and traced along your jaw, down your neck, and finally rested on your waist, his touch light, yet searing. You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "I..."

"Yes?" he prompted, his thumb tracing small circles on your waist. You could feel the warmth radiating from his touch, even through the layers of fabric separating your skin from his. "I... I've never done this before," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon's expression softened, and he smiled gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Never done what before?" he asked, his voice warm and reassuring. You bit your lip, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Never... kissed someone," you confessed, your eyes dropping to his lips.

Before you knew it, Sunghoon's hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his breath on your lips, and your heart hammered in your chest. "Now is a perfect time to change that," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

His head inclined, and his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. His hand on your waist pulled you closer, your bodies aligning perfectly. He deepened the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue, tasting you slowly, as if savoring your inexperience.

You clutched at his shoulders, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Your breath hitched, and you felt your knees grow weak. Sunghoon tightened his hold on you, his strong arms supporting you as he continued to kiss you passionately. "See,"

"it's not so hard, is it?" he murmured against your lips, breaking the kiss to gaze at you with a smile. You shook your head, still dazed from the kiss. "N-no," you stammered, your lips tingling and swollen from his attention.

Sunghoon chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath your hands. He leaned in and pressed a few more soft kisses on your lips before pulling away fully. "Good," he said, smirking at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

He stepped back, his hands falling away from you. You swayed a little, unsteady on your feet, your knees still weak from the intense kiss. Sunghoon reached out to steady you, his hand wrapping around your wrist once more. "Careful," he said, his voice laced with concern.

You steadied yourself, your gaze meeting his. "I'm alright," you assured him, your voice barely above a whisper. Sunghoon nodded, his hand falling away from your wrist. "Good," he repeated, his eyes holding yours captive.

"I've wanted this for a long time," Sunghoon growled, his lips crashing onto yours once more. His hands were everywhere, cupping your face, tangling in your hair, roving over your body.

You moaned against his mouth, your fingers clutching at his shoulders. He hoisted you up, your back pressing against the cold wall of the history club room. You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his hardness against your core.

"Sunbae..." you gasped, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his neck. He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin. "Shh, baby. Not so loud," he whispered, his hands squeezing your thighs possessively.

He started moving, his hips grinding against yours in a slow, teasing rhythm. You whimpered, your nails digging into his back. "Please..." you begged, not even sure what you were asking for.

"Please what?" Sunghoon taunted, his voice low and sultry. He nuzzled your neck, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he continued to thrust against you. "Please... touch me..." you panted, your words barely coherent.

Sunghoon let out a guttural growl at your desperate plea. He reached between your bodies and unbuttoned your skirt, pushing it up around your waist. Your uniform socks were the only thing between your skin and the cold wall. "Fuck, you're so tiny,"

"Like a little doll," he murmured, his hands skimming over your hips and waist before gripping your thighs again. He spread your legs wider, his hips settling more firmly between them. You felt the cool air against your most intimate place, realizing that he had pushed your underwear aside.

Sunghoon's grip on your thighs tightened as he pinned you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his hardness pressing into you through the fabric of his uniform pants. “Call me Sunghoon.”

"Sunghoon...?" you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. He silenced you with a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he slowly began to unbuckle his belt. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breath hitching with anticipation.

Sunghoon's cock sprang free, already hard and straining towards you. He lifted your hips a little higher, positioning himself before slowly sliding inside of you. You gasped at the feeling of him filling you up, your body stretching to accommodate him.

You could feel every inch of him as he slowly pushed deeper. Your breath hitched in your throat, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. "Sunbae—Sunghoon..." you whimpered, burying your face in his neck. "You're so...big."

He groaned at your words, his hips beginning to move in slow, deep thrusts. You could feel him hitting every nerve ending inside of you, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through your body. "God, you feel amazing," he gritted out between clenched teeth.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed around the room, punctuated by your soft whimpers and his guttural groans. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove harder into you, chasing his release.

"You're so tight," he hissed, his voice strained. His hands squeezed your bottom, spreading your cheeks wider to deepen his angle. "It's...it's so deep," you panted, clinging to his shoulders. He grinned wickedly, his eyes locked onto yours.

"And it only gets better," he promised. His pace quickened, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. You threw your head back, the sensation overwhelming. "Sunbae...I can't...it's too much," you stammered. He growled, nuzzling into your neck.

"Come for me, then," he commanded, his voice low and dominant. His hands slid to your thighs, tilting your hips to meet his hard, powerful thrusts. You whimpered, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the pressure inside you became unbearable. "Sunbae..."

"That's it, baby. Look at me and just... call me sunghoon," he encouraged, his voice hoarse. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his intense gaze as he continued to pound into you. The combination of his words, his touch, and his unwavering eye contact was enough to push you over the edge.

His face contorted with pleasure, Sunghoon's grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh. His hips bucked forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You felt the warmth spread, filling you up as he found his release, groaning loudly against your neck.

As he filled you with his warmth, your own body reacted, the pressure building to a breaking point. Your inner walls clenched around him, milking his cock for every drop as your own orgasm hit. You screamed into his shoulder, your vision blurring as your body shook with the intensity of your climax.

Sunghoon held you up, his arms the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the floor. He stayed buried inside you, his softening cock still twitching occasionally as he caught his breath. After a moment, he slowly pulled out, his cum trickling out of you and down your thigh.

"Are you okay?" Sunghoon asked, his voice a low rumble as he looked down at you. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that fell from the corner of your eye. He was concerned, the heat and passion from moments before replaced with tenderness.

"I'm...I'm fine," you whispered back, your voice hoarse from screaming. You unwrapped your legs from around his waist, slowly sliding down the wall until your feet touched the floor. Sunghoon kept an arm around you, steadying you until you found your footing.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING !

main masterlist

dreamscape m.list: enhypen

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @moonpri @chexnluv @wensurr

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[naffeclipse]

Brain Damage

Reader x Sebastian Solace

Commission Info

Thank you so much to @o-cinnamonstickz for requesting the hot fish we've both been obsessing over for a hot minute! After a blow to the head, the reader wakes up in none other than the merchant's arms, and he has a few things to check before he'll allow you to continue on. You know, just friendly fish shopkeeper things!

Content Warnings: Injuries. Violence. Mentions of gore.

———

Pain draws you out of the darkness you were so sweetly nestled in. A blunt ache furiously pulses in your right temple, demanding attention. A groan slips from you. You weakly writhe and arms tighten around you. 

A thrum works in your ears, blending into a monotonous buzz before your consciousness begins to splice the noises. A thick stream of water falling in a dull roar. The constant echo of something just beyond the walls and doors, someone screaming or turrets firing. You never did like to focus on those.

A voice springs into your awareness. Lowered into a hiss, it slithers against the edges of your consciousness in a familiar timbre.

“Wake up.” Two firm hands shake your shoulders and you whine. “That’s it, come on. Wake up.”

“Leave me alone,” you mewl. You try to twist away and kick out your feet but a heaviness surrounds you. The sharp pressure points of claws dig into your flesh. You stop at once.

“Not a chance,” the voice chuckles.

The pain persists, and you’re forced to crack open your eyes. A light blue face blurs against the gray facility walls—the north side is ripped out completely. A burst pipe sends a waterfall down into the darkness. The ground is cool but you’re propped up on something solid but slick. One arm slips away from you. Three glowing eyes pierce through the haze of your vision. 

Sebastian?

A few seconds trickle by as your vision focuses on the sharp-tooth grin looming over you. The fluorescent lights are pale, sterile, and cold. Sebastian’s angular fish lure is warm and yellow and soft, dangling above you as his eyes hungrily sweep over your person. 

You didn’t think he ever left his safe room. Of course, he does, but you didn’t know he’d leave it for you.

You grunt as another wave of pain taps into your skull. The blunt ache chisels away at your concentration as if someone with a vendetta and a hammer decided to open up your head. 

“Welcome back.” Sebastian pulls away slightly. He sweeps back his dark hair from his face, and his eyes squint slightly in concentration. In a harsher tone, he commands, “Hold still. Stop squirming.”

“I’m not,” you mutter, but your defiance echoes childishly. You wince and aggravate the pain in your skull.

Sebastian smirks. A smugness decorates his inhuman face as he leans closer. A spark of indignation burns through you but it dies as quickly as it flares. 

Okay, fine. You stop trying to escape from your position, caught against his tail and where he hovers over you. His hands pin down your shoulders. Bulky sensations of packs are tucked behind your shoulders, propping you up in a manner of really, really awful pillows. Slowly, you huff, blowing a piece of hair out of your face.

“There, now is that so hard?” he purrs condescendingly, eyes impish and superior. “You should be a lot more grateful for help, friend.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, your eyes narrow into slits sharp enough to form daggers at the merchant who so decidedly has you in his grasp. 

Through gritted teeth, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

His mouth quirks at one corner. You stare as he lifts a hand from your shoulder to brush your hair up your forehead, exposing the side of your face currently engulfed in pain. His large palm settles delicately above your head wound. Your flesh prickles at the slightest graze of his claws over your scalp, triggering a sensitive input of nerves down your neck that nearly causes you to squirm again.

“I was going to scavenge a few things off of your corpse. Lucky for you, you’re not dead.” His glowing eyes hold your gaze. “What happened? I found you unconscious on the floor.”

“Uh, yeah, that,” you draw out slowly.

Sebastian drums his other hand’s claws along your shoulder, his expression shifting into displeasure or suspicion. You’re not certain.

Your attention shifts. Memory ripples with waves of pain, but you drag a hand through your murky recollection. 

You were walking through a dark room. There were two doors, each with glowing number signs. One held a slight static, but it was closer. You didn’t think anything of it—the facility is compromised in every way, so why not the screens as well? But that was your mistake.

“It was a fake door,” you sigh deeply. “I didn’t know Good People was behind it.”

Sebastian’s stare could pin you to the floor like a bug and write your classification as “stupid.” To your dismay, you can’t rebuttal him.

“You didn’t check to hear if there was growling or breathing?” His voice is so sharp and abysmal with judgment, you flinch. The thick, corded muscles of his tail tense around you. 

“I… I…” you murmur, a heat filling your cheekbones, but you're stalling. Did you check?

It was a blur. You shoved the door open only to freeze at the sight of a red mass of viscera. It moved. A smiling white mask snapped in your direction and three large claws on the end of its three-fingered hand struck, knocking you off your feet and backwards. Your temple hit the ground with a solid whack that reverberated within you.

Darkness rushed into your vision. You remember the slam of the door, the inhuman growl, and then the slight smell of fish.

Sebastian’s hands flex along you. He lowers himself closer, face to face. You try to lean away but his thick serpentine body prevents you from regaining any more precious space.

“What do you remember?” His glowing gaze flashes from one eye to the other, peering into them so deeply, you fear what he’ll find. “Do you have trouble recalling anything else? Concentrate on me.” 

“What? No,” you stubbornly shake your head but his palm grips your skull and holds you still. You only achieve a strain on your neck. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What’s my name?” he asks firmly. His anglerfish lure slips into view, dusting your face in its soft yellow glow. You squint against its proximity. 

You growl under your breath. “Sebastian. Are you happy now?”

He nods. “Yes, that’s my name.” But there’s no joy spilling over his expression now that you’ve uttered what he wanted to hear.

Between the hand gripping your head and the one holding your shoulder, he has you secure like a mouse in the mouth of a cat. You curse as his third arm, slightly smaller than the other two, reaches for your face.

“Open your eyes wide.”

On a reflex of spite, you nearly close them, but the nature of his questions finally slots into place in your pain-riddled mind.

“Oh, please, I don’t have a concussion.” You would roll your eyes but you’re a bit preoccupied with how his hand cups the side of your face.

“You were bleeding and unconscious when I found you,” he retorts. Sebastian’s claws frame the socket of your eye, pressing into your skin to hold your eyelids up. “Open your eyes wide. Let me watch the dilation and then I can see if all of your complaining is due to true brain damage.”

A seething retort sits behind your teeth but your muscles draw taut under his cool skin and wicked talons only centimeters from your precious vision. 

Willingly, you allow him to draw his anglerfish lure back and forth in front of you, into your view, and back out. In the time you’re trapped under his diagnostics, you study him in return. His eyes are wide and bright, unnatural for humans but they refract like fish caught in a flash of a camera in the abysmal depths of the sea. His teeth are razor-sharp. Frills stick out between the locks of his hair in place of ears. You feel the slight wiggle of his tail behind you, his flukes flipping in the slightest while in his concentration. 

“At least your mind seems mostly intact,” he hums. His hand falls from your face and you blink at last. “So you just can’t remember because you weren’t thinking, were you?”

“Can it, tuna fish,” you huff. “I just want to sleep this off and be on my merry way.”

His tail coils slightly tight against your back. You glance down to his shiny scales intercut with belts and straps of pouches from where he stuffs the goods he pillages from around the facility.

“I’m afraid you can’t sleep. Not for the time being,” he muses as he draws his claws over your scalp to cradle the back of your head. “Unless you’d like to never wake up again.”

“And you’re going to keep me awake?” you breathe, exasperated. “I’m not bleeding anymore and—wait, how did you find me?” 

Now you skew you with a look, your brow furrowing with a splash of hurt along your temple. Sebastian shifts in the slightest, caught off guard in a way you haven’t seen the saboteur before. His claws curl.

“Just a little tracking device. No big deal.” 

Your eyes widen, furious beyond words. You lift your hands to shove him away from you, but he catches your wrists. You try to get to your feet but his strength easily overwhelms your own, and he firmly keeps you pressed against his tail. 

“You put a tracking device on me! Of course, you did—I’m not even surprised!” you snarl. “Where is it?”

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” he grins. 

You clench your fists. Your hands are so small, balled up above his three-fingered hand shackles. He reminds you how tiny you are underneath him. 

The tracking device has to be on your air canisters. You would have felt it on your clothes. 

“Why did you put a tracker on me?” you demand, almost thrashing while pain pulses in your temple. You feel rabid like you want to bite him. Could you? Probably, but you have a gut feeling he’d throw you over the ledge if you did.

His grin remains unchanging despite the slight twitch at the end of his tail. “Like I said, I was going to scavenge a few things off of your corpse.”

A bonfire ignites within you. You can hardly snap your teeth as heat fills your mouth.

“I’m going to smoke you and dip you in tartar sauce.” You test his grip but he holds firm, and you remain trapped. “Let me go!”

“If you want to take a nap and never wake up, be my guest,” he hisses, the sound curling in your eardrums and sending a shudder through your body. He presses closer, each sharp tooth in his maw on full display. “But if you don’t want to pay the ferryman, I suggest letting me help you, friend.”

You hold his unyielding gaze, licks of furious flames still eating away at your ribs. There’s logic in his argument. Though you’re not so sure why he’s offering to help you without a price tag attached. He’s helped you, yes, allowed you to buy some of his scavenged goods, and told you to be careful, but this seems to be more than a merchant’s role. Can you refuse his offer? You may very well be concussed. And if you die, do you want to spare a coin for the ferryman?

Slowly, you breathe out.

“Fine,” you jerk your chin at his hands still engulfing your arms. “Give me back my hands. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I thought so,” his smugness is not much better than a fire poker stirring up your rage. A chuckle rolls out of his mouth. 

His large hands unfurl, releasing you, and you cross your arms over your chest with a scoff. You smell the slight scent of salt-like sweat and the musk of fish. You wonder how long his essence will stick to your skin. Sebastian settles back onto his tail, still close to hovering over you, but no longer bursting your bubble with his three hands.

You froth with rage. Sitting in the crook of his tail, propped up, almost child-like in your pouting, you search for barbs with which to spur Sebastian, and you do not come up empty-handed.

“I used most of the stuff I bought off of you,” you announce, baring your teeth in something that could be a smile were it not for the internal fire you’re still fueling. “You would have gone to a lot of trouble just for a broken flashlight and one flash beacon—oh, wait. I forgot. You love flash beacons, don’t you?”

His scowl could curdle your blood, but he shifts, jostling you slightly and causing the wound in your temple to pound. You lift a hand to it, cursing under your breath. Growling low under his breath, he leans forward and sweeps a few locks of your hair back to study where you hit your head against the floor. You hold still at his touch.

“At least I’m not the idiot who chose the door that had the Good People behind it.” He hisses quietly under his breath, mumbling something more; most likely more insults while he studies your wound. “Keep talking. We’re going to be here a while and I will keep you awake.”

Your arms slowly loosen from around you. Sebastian reclines, resting his face in his hand as he remains draped around you, a coil of safety against the dangers and unknowns of the facility.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you mutter, but give a nod of agreement.

[chososdiscordkitten]

Kento Nanami In Bed.

Pairing: Nanami x fem!reader Content: No plot, just filth. use of good girl, pretty girl, ect, oral (f&m), throat fucking, hand stuff overall just stuff I think of when I look at Nanami Word Count: 1.5k

(a.n) bum bum bum hammer time (＾▿＾）

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MDNI

When it came to prep, Nanami was always very attentive in that area. One of the few men who don't hesitate to make sure you finish a few times before even considering his own needs. He prefers using his fingers rather than his mouth. Nanami always greedily ate up your whines that spilled from your lips. Enjoying the way your lips vibrated against his whenever you'd let out a hearty moan. And even more so, he felt you even more when he used his fingers.

Being able to tell when you came, walls pulsing around his thick digits as he kissed you- precise movements with his tongue would go unnoticed by you. Too caught up in your own orgasm to notice. Only offering sloppy movements from your tongue and shivers that rumbled from your shoulders down to your hips as his thumb refused to falter its movements on your clit. 

Briefly pulling away from your puffy lips, only to look at your expression. “One more-” he huffed, making you let out a whine. Crashing your lips back to his as his fingers started pumping in and out of you again. When it came to pleasuring you- he always preferred to see your expression. Wanting to see you unravel bit by bit. Orgasm by orgasm. One thing about Nanami; he always liked seeing the honesty on your face your face offered after 3 orgasms from just his fingers. 

When you'd be good, of course he'd offer praise. Taking advantage that your ear was in close proximity- Nanami would trail his lips from yours, kissing softly on your cheeks to your ear, lips brushing against the shell as you stood on your tippy toes. Head pounding from how overworked he had you, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips before speaking. “My pretty girl-” he’d huff, fingers curling up to the spot he had been abusing for too long.

Causing you to let out a drawn out whine at the pet name he used, “Doing so good for me.” that smirk growing, knowing you're too caught up in trying to cum again for him to notice he was soaking in the sight of you struggling to stay up right on your own two feet. 

Knuckles turning white against the counter as he slowly inched you up higher on your toes. He'd only want to make you feel a tiny bit of pain when you didn't behave. Like the burning in your calves when you unwillingly stood on your tiptoes for however long he'd want you to. And when you'd be too eager- welcoming him home and almost immediately popping his fingers in your mouth. On occasion- and with your permission, he'd call you demeaning names. Knowing all too well you were uninterested in behaving just to hear them.

Nanami knew you'd work equally as hard for him to call you the filth that made you crack a smile. He liked pretending that with a few degrading names, one or two firm spanks to your bottom, and a stern hair pull you’d behave. But if Nanami was honest, he knew all those things would lead to you misbehaving once more, just for him to do it all over again. 

And when it came to pleasing him, Nanami was always overly grateful. Praise spilling from his lips as your hands massaged the tops of his thick thighs. He liked letting you set your own pace at first, letting you gently lick up his shaft and fondle his heavy balls in your hand. 

And when you finally wrap your pretty lips around his flushed cockhead, he’d throw his head back on his office chair, “There you go-” he'd drag out the words, eyes fluttering to the back of his head at your tongue swirling around his tip. “That's it-” he'd huff, feeling you start to lower your lips down his shaft, “Good girl.” he’d grunt, feeling his tip brush at the back of your throat.

When he'd feel your throat start to tire from his size- jaw growing tired from how thick he was in your mouth. Nanami never hesitated in grabbing the side of your head gently, hearing small whimpers vibrate onto his cock from him easing his member into your throat. Making sure to keep a gentle hand as he felt your throat contract around his tip. 

Nanami would be gentle, slowly forcing your head to bob up and down his cock and you’d happily let him. When he's near his orgasm, his gentle hands would press their touch firmly against your head, making you let out a small choke at him holding your lips closer to his base. Leaving you to breathe from your nose as his cock twitched inside your throat. Knowing he was a head pusher- you and him created a tell whenever you knew you wouldn't be able to take it- rare were the times you'd use it. 

The choice of where to cum when you blow him was always a difficult one for Nanami. Enjoying seeing your shocked expression whenever his cum would drip down your throat. But he equally enjoyed seeing his cum decor your face, that dilemma was always something he pondered the second you'd take the first kitten lick on his cock.

When Nanami would want to see your flushed face covered in his seed, he’d release the sides of your head and let you pull from him with a long gasp for air- Wasting no time in connecting his fist to his wet shaft, grunting as he worked himself over the edge. And you being the over welcoming lovely person you were- you'd open your mouth to get a taste. Tongue covering the bottom of your teeth as he grunted, teary eyes looking up at him. 

With one strangled huff, he worked his cock- ribbons of white came from his tip, batting your eyes closed knowing he wasn't aiming for anything but your face. Nanami always took a few seconds as he worked himself down, admiring the sight of his cum splayed on your skin. Not even needing to tell you- you'd swallow whatever landed on your tongue. Making sure to open your mouth again to show him your clean tongue. Earning his hand to hold the side of your neck, his thumb brushing your chin with a smile. “Good girl.”

Nanami is a classic man, he’s almost always the top, his favorite positions are the usual ones. Missionary, doggy- whatever. But, the one that always made his cock twitch with anticipation, was when your legs were pinned to the side of your ears- face burning from how much pressure he was applying. Fucking into you; deep. Almost shifting into a mating press- but not quite there. Your cunt swallowing him with loud shlops and squelches, on full display to his prying eyes. 

Feeling your nails dig crescent moons on his thighs as he thrusted himself as deep as he could. So deep your ears were ringing- eyes rolled to the back of your head when his uncaring fingers started rubbing rough circles on your clit. Using one hand to cuff your ankle to the bed, giving you a little more room to move the other one. 

Nanami always enjoyed the sight of your face flushed from the overstimulation, the unfiltered groans from your trembling lips as he unknowingly bullied your sore cunt. So much so, that oftentimes you'd end another orgasm he'd pull from you, slack jawed and eyes shut tight as he praised you for taking him so well. Knowing he wouldn't be handing out those hard earned praises unless he believed you deserved it. 

Cunt pulsing around him causing the hold on your ankle to weaken, clenching around him as you came. Only for him to release your ankle with a loud groan, feeling him pump one final firm thrust into you before he filled you. Making your crack your eyes open and engulf the sight before you, damp forehead and pinched eyebrows, low eyes glued to the ring of white forming at the base of his cock. 

Definitely not the type to enjoy cock warming. Taking only a few seconds after he drove himself down from his high- enjoying the way your cunt hugged him perfectly in that moment. And so warm too- trust. Nanami always struggled with pulling himself out of you. But he would, making sure to press gentle kisses to your face as you let out small pants. “You okay darlin’?” he'd murmur against your skin, making you close your eyes and let a smile form on your lips. 

“Mhmm-” you'd hum feeling his gentle hands hold onto your sides as he rubbed soothing circles to your skin, “I’m alright-” you exhaled with a smile, cracking your eyes and looking at him hazily. Your cunt threatening to push his hardworking cum out of you with every small convulsion. “Let's get you into a bath, hm?” his deep voice would ring through your ears in a way only heard in dreams. Tired eyes blinking shut as you nodded your head softly.

-

sum short to post while I finish a chosito piece xoxo

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[hoshigray]

js thinking abt sukuna fucking reader and toji at the same time (you can add aftercare if you want) 🫦🫦

၇͜ᩘ𑁍 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna + Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - smutty then fluffy - size difference - double penetration; anal & vaginal + 2 dick! kuna - biting - back-to-front + missionary positions - prostate orgasm - light choking - pet names (baby, little girl, mama, princess) - aftercare; cleaning + massages + cuddles - mention of drool/spit.

Sukuna, ironically born as a cursed man, was blessed with something that most beings on this Earth lack.

“Fuuuck, goddamn, y’ feel so good, baby.” 

“Haaahhh, ohmyGo—Ahhh! S-so f’ll…”

And now, he uses it to please the two sprawled under his bow. 

In his shared quarters, the four-armed beast spends tonight in the comfort of his two partners. Candles lit to bask the room in a warm glow, nude bodies stripped of their clothes and situated upon the soft futon that cushions below them.

Toji lay first, his bare back to the soft surface while your back was glued to his front, exchanging sweat with the heat as he held your legs up by the back of your knees. Sukuna towers the both of you; his lower hands keep Toji’s arms spread for easier access to his two cocks—one for each of his companions. 

The top cock was buried into your cunt, clenching on the girth with every scrape of your upper wall, causing you to whimper uncontrollably. The lower one is currently inside Toji’s ass, pushing his frame with every push of the hips, which aids him into thrusting into your anus all the while. 

“OhhGaaahhd!” The air around is steamy; hot skin meshed onto yours, and wet kisses are placed on your neck and cheek by Toji. “Feel so good, so…biiig!”

“Haaah, heh, I know, mama,” the raven-haired one huffs hotly to your ear. “Y’re doin’ good, though…Hnnnm! Holyfuuck, ‘Kuna!” 

A guttural chuckle is heard while the tongue of his stomach teases your thighs with licks. “What did I do? Was it…this?” He snaps his pelvis, and both his dicks venture deep into the both of you. A poke to your cervix, combined with a graze to the tissue of his prostate, has you and Toji moan in unison. “Hmph, felt that good, huh?”

“—Ghhhh, fuck, y’re such a dick,” Toji laughs hoarsely while his face is guided by your hand to bring him in for a kiss. The two of you sigh at the feel of each other’s lips, your tongue licking his def scar while placing soft pecks on the corner of his mouth.

Four scarlet eyes narrow at the sight of his partners being intimate under him, unable to suppress the predatory purr of his grin. The mouth of his abdomen lays smooches to your tummy—albeit a little sloppy yet endearing—and he cups your cheeks to face him the moment your kiss with Toji breaks, heavy pants causing the air to get hotter. “Enjoyin’ yourself, aren’t you, little girl?” He sneaks another rut to have you both curl your toes.

Your hands come up to hold the giant’s face. “Nahaaa, Suk’naaa,” the way you say his name makes him gulp. “I’m close, so cl—Mmmphfuuck!!”

“Fuck, you smell good,” the scent of your lotion clouds his nostrils as he bends down, the addition of his weight cages both you and Toji. His upper right hand comes to your throat, pressing on it not to choke but enough to deepen your haze. The same goes for Toji with the wrap of his upper left hand. “Gonna be good and wring me out, right?”

“Yessss,” you nod with a ditzy smile. “Make us cummm like you know how…!” 

He liked the sound of that. “Then stay still, and let me end this.”

Sukuna releases both throats and uses his upper hands as leverage while flexing his abdomen, his pelvis hammering his cocks down to the hilt, slapping his heavy balls onto Toji’s taint. Wails and groans of pleasure are expressed in the room’s atmosphere. More hits to your womb has you wrap your arms around Sukuna’s wide neck, clamping your walls more onto your husbands’ dicks. The length inside Toji keeps rubbing his prostate, and the deep murmurs flying out his scarred mouth sound bewitching to your ear. 

It isn’t before long that you submit to the climb of your orgasm; the contraction of your asshole and cunt have the two men hiss. Toji is second to succumb to an orgasm, ejecting his load into your tight channel while burrowing his face close to your neck. The both of you climaxing on Sukuna’s shafts are too good to avoid, pushing him into releasing his semen into his mortal lovers with a grunt. Shocks are shared amongst each other, and Sukuna claims your lips with his own, shoving his tongue inside for you to tend and hum to.

A few more pumps of his hips before the behemoth lets his muscles relax, sighing deeply to your kiss until you need air, placing his heavy forehead on yours. All three figures calm down, allowing the sounds of crickets outside to act like a spell to center themselves. Sukuna’s exhale tickles your skin. “You two did well.”

Toji scoffs. “We hope so; puttin’ us through a workout.” The salmon-haired other begins to move, slowly withdrawing his lengths from his partners. You and Toji sigh breathlessly at the subtraction, and your body slides off the onyx-headed one. “So much fr’ takin’ a bath before this, huh, princess.”

You titter aimlessly. “At least we came prepared.” Your conversation is cut short as Sukuna returns with a wooden bucket and washcloth. He wrings the cloth of the water and damps it around your lower half, wiping the come that’s spilling out and messing your thighs. He massages your ankles with his lower hands while he works. “And as promised, Sukuna takes care of his mess.”He glares at you while you giggle. He then places your legs down and does the same to Toji, wiping his ass with the warm washcloth. 

“That’s true,” the mortal man chuckles as Sukuna pushes Toji’s left leg to his chest, cleaning the excess come trinkled to his bum. “Not gonna have us all sweaty and sticky fr’ nothin’.”

“Shut up and get ready for sleep,” he ignores you two laughing at him while he stands to dismiss the bucket and cloth out of the room. A hand comes up and quickly moves with the flick of his fore and middle finger, slicing the burning ends of the candles to darken the room. He finds the futon, grabs the comforter from behind, and positions himself between you and Toji—his upper arms pulling both of you closer for warmth to flourish.

“Thank you, my Lord,” you say with appreciation, answered by a low purl by the behemoth. You then cling close, “Goodnight, Toji.”

“Night, baby.”

Crimson eyes don’t close until the two pairs of eyelids fall on their own, and Sukuna finally lets the darkness keep you three warm and safe.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ☆ dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.