#I like talking about this things so... yeah :>

[onlypinkslut]

warning 18+ older roommate!toji fushiguro x college f!reader he’s sad. quiet. heavy. you let him use your ass when he’s upset 🎀

you weren���t even supposed to live with him that long.

it was meant to be a temporary thing three months max. just until your lease got sorted out, or until your boyfriend found a place closer to campus. but then three months turned into five, and then midterms came, and then your boyfriend said he didn’t want a roommate after all. and you were still here. still in that quiet, cool apartment with the fridge full of protein shakes and beer, and the hallway that always smelled like his cologne.

toji was older than you. older in that hard-to-place way. he never said his age, but you knew it was somewhere between thirty and forty. maybe closer to forty. the lines around his mouth made him look tired, but his body didn’t. he worked out every day, left early, came back late, didn’t talk much, didn’t smile much either. you always felt like he noticed more than he let on. always watching, but quiet about it.

it wasn’t flirty. not at first.

just weird little moments.

like the way he’d look at you too long when you came home from class in one of your tiny skirts. or how he never asked about your boyfriend, even when you were pacing around the living room whispering into the phone at night. or how he always seemed to walk in right after you showered, towel still wrapped around your body, hair dripping down your back.

but he never crossed the line.

until tonight.

you were on the couch, like always.

your little shorts were riding up from how you were lying on your stomach, tank top thin and braless underneath. you weren’t even trying to be cute. just comfy.

your boyfriend had texted you something boring, so you were ignoring him. scrolling tiktok. humming under your breath.

and then the front door slammed.

you jumped a little. turned your head slowly.

he was standing there. fists clenched. jaw locked. breathing uneven like he just came back from a fight.

you blinked.

you okay?

he didn’t answer right away. just stared at the wall for a second like he was trying to talk himself down from something.

then, he came over. not fast. not threatening. just walked slowly to the couch and dropped down beside you, hard, his big body sinking deep into the cushions.

he was still in his gym clothes. black shirt stretched tight across his chest, sweat dried along his collar. you could smell him.

he didn’t look at you when he spoke.

fuckin bitch at work tried to make a scene.

you stayed quiet. let him talk.

snapped at me in front of everybody. like she thought i was gonna sit there and let her.

you rested your chin on your palm. glanced over at him.

what did you do?

he scoffed.

walked out. told the boss she could fire me if she wanted.

he rubbed his face.

i’m fucking tired.

you nodded. it was weird seeing him like that angry but quiet. his voice low and hoarse, like he’d been holding it in all day.

he looked over at you.

you always this quiet?

you shrugged.

sometimes.

you heard him sigh again. then he leaned back, stretching one leg out, his thigh almost touching yours.

you laughed softly, glancing back at your phone.

he stared at you for a second too long.

you don’t mind if i sit here a bit, right?

you shook your head.

you live here too.

his gaze lingered.

can i ask you something?

you nodded.

what’s your boyfriend do when you’re upset?

you paused. looked up.

uh… i guess he talks to me? i don’t know. asks what’s wrong.

toji smirked. not cruel. just… knowing.

talks.

yeah.

he leaned over suddenly, one thick palm resting on your lower back, fingers spread gently.

can i try something?

you blinked.

what?

his tone was calm. quiet. almost careful.

s’nothing, don’t make it weird. just… helps me calm down.

his leg moved, sliding up behind yours. his whole body shifted until he was hovering over your ass.

i’m just gonna sit like this for a second. don’t move.

you didn’t have time to react. he eased down, slow, his full weight settling over the backs of your thighs, his hips pressing gently against the swell of your ass.

you could feel it. thick. heavy. even through both layers.

your mouth parted.

toji…

shh. not weird. it’s not sexual.

he rocked forward, slow, grinding his hips into the softness of your ass, slow and rhythmic.

just helps me. not thinking about you. just need to relax.

his hands smoothed up your sides. then back down. you felt his breath on your neck.

you feel warm. soft. grounding.

your thighs squeezed together.

you should’ve told him to stop.

you had a boyfriend.

you weren’t supposed to like this.

but he rolled his hips again, slower this time, a soft grunt in his throat.

feels better already.

and you didn’t move.

you didn’t even breathe.

just stayed there, heavy on top of you, hips pressed into your ass, breathing slower now. you could feel the heat of him through his sweats. the way his cock had thickened, twitching occasionally against your soft shorts.

you didn’t say anything. neither did he.

for a long time, it was just the sound of the tv playing something you weren’t watching, your phone screen dimming in your hand.

then, slowly, his voice came again. lower this time. not angry. just… tired.

she took everything.

you blinked.

he was staring at the floor in front of the couch, arms braced on either side of your waist.

the house. the cars. even the fuckin dog.

his body moved over yours, barely rocking, just enough to keep himself calm.

and megumi. she took him too. didn’t even let me fight for custody. said i was too unstable.

his voice cracked a little.

was i a bad dad?

you didn’t know what to say. you swallowed hard.

i don’t think so. you’re a kind man toji..

his breath shuddered behind you.

he leaned down a little, chest pressing against your back.

you remind me of how things used to feel before everything went to shit.

you looked down at your hand. it was trembling.

toji…

he cut you off, softly.

no, i’m serious. you’re calm. sweet. you don’t make me feel like i’m losing my mind every time i come home.

his hips rolled again. slower now. deeper.

i’m not trying to make this weird.

you squeezed your thighs together.

it’s just comfort.

you didn’t move.

you should’ve.

his hips were still rolling gently over yours, steady and quiet, like it was just breathing. like it wasn’t anything filthy, just some low, grounding rhythm he needed to stay sane. he wasn’t moaning. wasn’t panting. he wasn’t even hard yet. that’s what made it worse.

he was just calm.

and something about that scared you more than if he’d pinned you down.

his hand was still on your back. not holding you. just resting there, like he needed to feel you moving with him.

you felt so soft tonight.

you felt like permission.

he didn’t say anything for a minute. just moved slowly, the heat of his sweats dragging over your ass with every push of his hips.

his hips pressed forward just a little more that time. the drag of him against you firmer now.

you were quiet. you didn’t want to hear this.

but he kept going.

she got cold after megumi. turned into someone else. someone bitter. angry.

you closed your eyes.

and you? you’re not like that.

he reached down again, the tips of his fingers dragging over the waistband of your little shorts.

you’re still warm. you still make people feel safe even broken bastards like me.

you sucked in a breath. your legs tensed, thighs trembling.

toji…

his hand didn’t move. it just stayed there, warm and big and slow.

shhh. not doing anything. just feeling you.

he leaned down now, chest heavy against your back, breath brushing the edge of your ear.

you’re tense. don’t be. this isn’t weird.

you tried to shift your hips. his hand caught them. gently. firmly.

i know it’s hard. being touched like this by someone older. someone who’s supposed to be safe.

his voice dropped lower.

but baby, i am safe.

you let out a shaky breath. your phone slipped from your hand to the floor.

he didn’t even flinch.

you want me to stop?

you nodded.

he paused.

then pulled your shorts down anyway.

only halfway. just enough to let your cheeks spill out, bare and soft under his palms.

see? nothing bad’s happening. just skin. just you and me. you have a cute butt sweetheart.

you should’ve screamed.

you should’ve left.

but he was gentle. slow. sweet even, in a way that made your stomach flutter and ache.

his cock was hard now. you could feel it dragging thick and heavy along your ass, clothed still, but pulsing.

his hands held your hips like they were something fragile.

god… your body.

he breathed it out, low and wrecked, like he’d been holding it in for years.

so much softer than hers.

he lifted you gently. rolled his hips up against your bare ass, the thin fabric of your panties wet now, clinging.

just keep letting me.

you whimpered.

but you didn’t stop me.

he leaned in closer, lips brushing your neck.

your boyfriend still young, chasing life.. maybe he doesn’t touch you like this.

maybe he doesn’t see you like i do.

he thrust again, slow and deeper this time, grinding into the soft spot between your thighs.

your legs spread without meaning to.

fuck, he whispered. that’s it.

just let me soothe myself.

he rubbed his cock along the curve of your pussy, still covered by your soaked panties, every stroke a little longer now, a little heavier.

you felt his hand move around to your stomach, holding you still, the other sliding over your lower back, stroking you.

you’re not doing anything wrong.

his breath was so close now.

you’re just helping me.

and the worst part was..

it felt true.

he didn’t stop.

his hands stayed on your body even while he talked, like touching you helped the words come out smoother. he kept one palm low on your spine, warm and firm, grounding you to the couch, while the other slid lower, curving over the round of your ass.

he gave it a squeeze first.

then rubbed it.

then shook it once, gently, like he was testing the weight of you.

god… she never let me touch her like this anymore.

he said it like it was nothing.

like he wasn’t palming your bare ass cheeks while grinding his cock up between them.

every fake thrust was a little heavier now, cock dragging up the crack of your ass through his sweats and your panties. you were soaked. you didn’t even know when it happened. maybe sometime after his first groan. or maybe after that third thrust when he whispered you’re softer than her.

he rolled his hips forward again, this time deeper, until the fabric between you was hot and damp and clinging.

his voice cracked mid-sentence.

before the baby. before the fucking lawyers.

his thumb hooked the thin waistband of your panties. didn’t pull just played with it, twisting the fabric, tugging it up slightly between your cheeks so it pressed tighter against your pussy lips.

she used to beg for it. used to say she loved how strong i was.

he tugged your panties again. then let them snap back lightly against your skin.

you stayed silent. frozen. dizzy.

now i’m just a paycheck. just a man she wants to rot.

he lifted your hips up again, forcing you to arch slightly, your ass in the air now, bare and soft and trembling under his weight.

but you… fuck, baby, you’re like a memory.

he moaned a little under his breath, grinding down harder, dragging the full length of his cock along your soaked fabric.

you’re like how women used to be. quiet. soft. grateful.

you let out a shaky breath.

his hand stroked the curve of your ass slowly, then squeezed again.

then both hands were on you palming, groping, parting your cheeks just enough to press himself between them.

you feel so fuckin good.

his voice cracked again.

i haven’t touched anyone since the divorce.

he rolled his hips again. the fabric twisted. your panties were soaked through, sticking to your slit, your clit catching just slightly with every grind.

and your boyfriend… he has no idea.

he chuckled softly. not mean. not cruel. just… certain.

you’re laying here with your shorts pulled down and your soaked little pussy rubbing against my cock.

he leaned closer, lips at your ear, breathing heavy.

you whispered his name.

toji…

he kissed the back of your neck.

not sweet.

not gentle.

just claiming.

shhh. i know, baby.

his fingers slid under the band of your panties this time. deeper. skin to skin now. not rushing. just resting them there.

you’re just helping.

and i’m gonna keep using you like this until my cock stops hurting.

his hips pressed forward hard. slow. deliberate. your clit throbbed. your thighs trembled.

just my own little remedy.

my soft little cure.

his hands started rubbing again. up and down your hips. over your ass. down to your thighs.

you’re such a good girl.

his cock dragged right over your cunt. again. again. again.

and the worst part was

you were clenching.

his hands didn’t stop.

they moved like he was sculpting you, rubbing your skin slow, gripping deep in some places, featherlight in others. he was rocking his hips now in soft, lazy grinds cock heavy and leaking behind the fabric of his sweats, dragging up and down your soaked slit through your panties like it was nothing. like it was natural.

your shorts were bunched around your knees. your panties soaked and crooked. and your ass was wide open in his lap, his hands sliding around it, shaping it, spreading it every few seconds just to watch it part.

and god, he watched.

he looked between your cheeks like it was holy.

not rushed. not desperate. just fixated.

fuck… look at this.

he whispered it like awe.

look how perfect you are down here.

his thumbs spread your ass open wider. you felt the cool air hit everything your folds, your twitching hole, the slick that made your panties stick.

you whimpered.

he leaned in. you felt his breath on your lower back.

you’ve got the prettiest lil pussy i’ve ever seen.

he let your cheeks fall back together with a soft slap. then parted them again.

and this fuckin hole… twitchin like it knows.

he chuckled under his breath. slow, low.

baby, this is insane. it’s so tight. so small.

he spread your ass again. stared. watched it clench.

god, you’re squeezin up for me.

you buried your face in the couch.

toji, please…

please what?

he closed your cheeks again. rubbed them in slow circles, then grabbed both and shook them softly, admiring the bounce.

you feel how hard i am, right? just from looking at it.

he ground his cock back between them, slow, dragging it over your pussy lips again and again.

not even fuckin you. just looking at you.

he parted your ass again. slow. careful. reverent.

your lil hole is fluttering like it wants to be kissed.

you let out a soft cry. he groaned.

fuck, you’re perfect. every inch of you. this is what real women look like. not those fake women who don’t know how to take care of a man.

his hand dragged up your inner thigh, fingers brushing the damp edge of your panties.

you’ve got folds like heaven. warmth like home.

he rocked again. slower. your panties clung to your clit now.

i could stare at this pussy for hours. never even fuck it. just rub on it. feel how soft she is.

he kissed your lower back. then kissed just above your ass.

you were trembling now. thighs shaking. face buried in a pillow.

you’re made to be held like this.

he spread you again, slowly. wider this time.

fuck. it’s twitching again.

he moaned, dragging his cock between your cheeks like it was a silk pocket.

don’t worry, baby. i won’t put it in.

he kissed the dip of your spine.

not unless you beg.

and even then, i’d take my time.

you’re not a hole to fuck.

you’re a place to rest.

he rubbed your ass again. grabbed both cheeks. shook them. groaned.

i’ll fuckin cum just like this.

he buried his cock between them again, grinding hard, low, moaning softly like he was almost there.

your hole’s too cute to ruin.

your pussy’s too perfect to rush.

he dragged his tip down once more, pressing it just over your clit through the soaked fabric.

let me finish like this, baby.

just let me use it.

just a lil longer.

his hand reached back down.

this time there was no pause. no warning. no question.

he hooked his thick fingers in the sides of your panties and pulled them down, slowly, steadily, inch by inch, until they slid over the swell of your ass, your soaked folds, your trembling thighs.

he groaned softly, more breath than voice, and let them drop to your knees, then slipped them off completely, tossing them somewhere behind the couch.

then he sat back on his knees, both palms full of your ass, eyes locked between your legs like it was sacred.

fuck.

his voice came out ragged now.

you’re even prettier bare.

you didn’t say anything. you couldn’t. your face was buried, your body on fire.

he parted your cheeks again, slow and steady.

little hole’s twitching again.

he stared, quiet, fixated.

then tilted his head.

is it cause you’re nervous? or cause you like this?

he didn’t wait for an answer.

he just kept looking.

your asshole fluttered open gently with every slow breath. your pussy below was wet and glistening, folds soft and slightly parted from how swollen you were.

goddamn, baby…

he rubbed his thumbs around your hole in lazy, slow circles, not touching the center. just framing it.

your body knows what it’s doing.

he spread you wider. let your hole open, then held it. watched it.

look at her.

fuckin opening for me.

he let go slowly.

watched your cheeks fall back together.

then squeezed them in his palms and rubbed them together, fat and soft and warm like bread dough.

what kinda boyfriend lets his girl walk around with a perfect ass like this and doesn’t keep her home?

he smacked your cheeks together lightly.

then peeled them apart again.

look, look how it moves.

he leaned down, nose close, staring like it was art.

your lil hole’s breathing, baby.

he brought your cheeks together again, slowly rubbing them.

and your pussy… fuck. she’s leaking just from being open.

he reached between your thighs, didn’t touch just hovered.

do you even realize how wet you are?

you whimpered. he laughed.

answer me.

you know this isn’t normal, right?

he spread you again. tilted your hips. watched the slick drip between your folds.

what’s your boyfriend gonna think when he sees the mess you made? when your pussy’s all puffy and your lil hole’s red and twitching like someone’s been using it?

he dragged his cock slowly between your cheeks again, this time skin to skin.

you felt the wet spot of pre-cum smear.

you think he could handle seeing you like this?

you think he could keep calm? ´cause i can’t.

he pinched your ass gently and rolled the flesh in his palms.

you’re too soft to ignore.

too fuckin perfect not to look at.

he kept your cheeks parted, watching your hole open again. slow. pulsing.

do you like being looked at like this, baby?

you like when an older man like me stares at your asshole like it’s worth more than rent?

he ground forward again, moaning deep in his chest.

cause i’d pay for this.

i’d worship this.

and you’re just laying here. letting me.

he pinched both cheeks together, held them shut, then dragged them open again slowly.

your hole’s not even shy anymore.

she wants attention.

she wants praise.

he leaned down, breathing against it.

i could put my tongue here and make you lose your fuckin mind.

not even touch your pussy.

just right here.

he kissed the curve above your hole.

light. respectful. filthy.

you whimpered again. he stroked your hip.

shhh. it’s not weird.

it’s just helping me.

i’m just calming down.

his cock slid back into the mess between your cheeks.

his thrusts got heavier. deeper. slower.

and you just laid there.

open.

dripping.

trembling.

while he used you to forget his life.

and you couldn’t take it anymore.

his hands had been spreading and squeezing you for so long, his voice low and warm against your back, whispering about how soft you were, how good your little twitching hole looked, how soaked your pussy was and you were still just laying there, silent and trembling, thighs clenching, trying not to make a sound.

but now it was buzzing.

everywhere.

between your legs, under your skin, up your spine.

he had you bare and open.

panties gone.

folds glistening.

hole twitching.

and every time he moaned, every time he touched you like you were sacred, something in you lit up.

you couldn’t pretend anymore.

not with how your heart was beating.

not with how your thighs kept inching wider.

so you reached back.

you lifted yourself up, just slightly barely on your elbows and then slowly, you brought your hands behind you, palms warm, fingers curved.

your manicured nails grazed your own ass.

and then you parted your cheeks wide.

for him.

you heard his breath catch.

oh… baby girl.

he sounded broken. reverent.

you held yourself open, cheeks stretched wide with your own delicate hands, and you tilted your hips a little, just enough to give him the perfect view. your asshole twitched once, slow, deliberate. your pussy below was swollen, wet, lips parted from all the pressure and grinding.

you took a breath.

you didn’t even recognize your own voice when it came out.

you can rub it there if you want.

not inside.

just… between.

if it helps you cock..

silence.

then a groan.

low and thick and wrecked.

fuck, sweetheart.

he leaned forward, chest pressed to your back, cock heavy between your hands, and you felt it the weight of it, the heat, the slow grind of fabric against your stretched skin.

you held yourself wider.

your nails digging in a little.

you wanted him to see everything.

feel better, toji.

you whispered it like a sin.

and he moaned.

you’re such a sweet fuckin girl.

you know that?

who the hell raised you like this?

his hands gripped your hips again.

his cock dragged along the dip between your cheeks, slow and thick, fabric catching on your fluttering hole.

not even gonna fuck you.

just let me feel this.

he rutted forward again, groaning, his tip catching your tailbone through the fabric, then gliding down over your hole, your folds, your clit.

you felt it.

you loved it.

you whispered again, softer this time.

does it feel good?

he gasped.

feels like fuckin heaven.

your ass is the softest thing i’ve ever touched.

and your lil hole… baby, she’s clenching just for me.

you rubbed your cheeks together gently, squeezing them with your own hands, then spreading them again.

your own fingers were still gripping the underside of your ass, stretching yourself wide while his bare cock rubbed slow between your cheeks. the room smelled like sweat and sex not fucked sex, not messy moaning porn sex but need. tension. body warmth and breath and skin dragging on skin.

you could feel everything.

the way his cockhead slipped down and caught on the softness between your folds before gliding back up. the weight of it dragging between your cheeks. the friction of slick and heat. the tip was wet he’d been leaking on you for minutes now, every grind leaving more precum smeared across your skin. your hole had started twitching from it, flinching from the pressure every time he passed over it like a nerve ending exposed.

you could tell he was trying not to come.

you could hear it in his voice, the way his breathing changed, lips parting, chest rising and falling faster as he buried his cock deeper between your ass cheeks and moaned against your back.

his hands came to your waist, then lower, thumbs hooking into the dip of your hips, pulling you back into him as he rocked forward with a sharp exhale.

fuck, baby.

i don’t even need to fuck you. this is better than anything i had with her.

you swallowed, lips parted, voice soft.

you can… put the tip there.

he froze.

what?

you kept your hands where they were, nails grazing your own skin.

not inside. just… you can press it there. if it helps.

his groan was raw.

oh fuck.

you nodded slowly.

just the tip.

just to soothe you.

he growled deep in his chest, leaned forward over your body, and whispered right into your ear.

you’re so fucking good for me.

you felt him shift one hand bracing the small of your back, the other gripping the base of his cock. his tip slid down again, lower, lower, and then stopped right against your hole.

you gasped.

the head of his cock was hot. thick. slick. and when it pressed gently against your asshole, you felt it pulse. not pushing. just resting there. full contact. your hole twitched on instinct, fluttering under the pressure. his groan came slow, heavy, drawn out from the chest.

oh baby… that’s it.

you’re holding her so still for me.

fuck, she’s reacting already. twitchin like she knows it’s me.

he didn’t thrust.

he just rubbed. slow circles of his tip over your asshole, coating it with warm precum, letting it glide back and forth, pressing just enough to stretch your rim without slipping in.

you’re not even fighting it.

you’re letting me soothe myself right on your sweet ass.

you were made for this.

this little spot right here.

he pressed the head flat against it, not pushing in, just covering you with the heavy heat of his cock.

you stayed perfectly still.

open.

offering.

not because you wanted it.

just because he needed it.

just to help.

you’re my good girl.

you hear me?

fuck your boyfriend. fuck everyone.

this is mine now.

he ground forward again, hips slow, cockhead sliding wetly against your rim, rubbing his release over you like it belonged there.

and your hole just twitched under him, again and again, waiting.

he didn’t push in.

but he wanted to.

and you could feel it in every quiet breath.

his cock didn’t leave your skin.

it was resting right there, the tip broad and flushed, heavy against your hole. you could feel every twitch of him. the way he throbbed at the base, the heat pooling inside him, the way the pressure kept building, slow and unbearable, until he couldn’t control it anymore.

then he pulled back.

not far.

just enough to let the tip hang.

just enough to slap it.

his cockhead hit your ass once right over your twitching rim.

you gasped, body jolting softly under the weight.

it wasn’t rough.

it was intimate.

another loud slap again. louder this time.

sticky now.

wet.

a ring of his precum had built around your hole, glistening. and when he slapped himself down again, the sound was so filthy it echoed in the quiet room.

fuck, baby.

listen to her.

he slapped again.

you’re clenching every time i hit her.

you like that, don’t you?

you whimpered.

you didn’t say yes.

but your body did.

he pressed the tip back into your rim, slow and heavy, then dragged it down between your folds and back up again.

he could’ve slid in.

you both knew it.

but he didn’t.

he rubbed.

slow, sticky circles, cockhead grinding soft on your asshole, sliding down, collecting slick, dragging it back up like he was painting with it.

then the moan came.

thick.

guttural.

and then..

the first hot spurt.

right on your hole.

it landed heavy.

wet.

thick.

his cock twitched hard in his fist.

you held yourself open tighter.

the next spurt hit the curve of your cheek, then down the split between them, dripping into the mess of your folds.

fuckfuckfuck… your ass takes me so well.

she wanted this.

he was groaning through it, thrusting shallow, rubbing his cockhead through his own cum now, smearing it over your hole, circling it slowly while your body stayed arched, spread, obedient.

he didn’t stop moving.

even as he came, he kept rubbing.

cockhead swirling over your rim, dragging slick into your soft skin.

massaging it in.

you’re mine now, sweetheart.

you’d let me do this again.

no one else gets to see this hole twitch like this.

no one else gets to paint her.

he gave one more slow slap, thick with cum, letting it drizzle down your crease.

you stayed exactly where you were.

hands on your ass.

hole dilated.

pussy throbbing.

his breath on your back.

and he just kept rubbing.

soothing.

like it was never about the sex.

just the comfort of being buried in your warmth.

his calm.

his good girl.

his favorite place to break.

≧∀≦ this little filth has been rotting in my notes for literal months and i finally gave in.🎀

thank you for reading this💗💗

onlypinkslut

[cameronsbabydoll]

younger!ditzy reader x drew starkey … she does a day in the life with them on tiktok ? well techinally it’s supposed to be her day in life / grwm but he’ll pop in !

the tiktok starts with a blurry shot of your pink ceiling and a very chipper voice.

“okayyy good morning!! i’m gonna do a lil day in my life with my boyfriend but he’s still asleep so shhh—”

cut to: you tiptoeing past drew’s very bare back, tangled in your floral comforter. you zoom in on his ear. “look how cute.”

he groans off-camera. “babe, please.”

“okay sorry sorry!!”

next clip: you in your mirror, glitter rollers in your hair, a heart-shaped brush in your hand.

“i have like three outfit options,” you say. “but drew hates the cowboy boots with this mini skirt so i might wear it just to annoy him.”

cue drew’s voice from the hallway: “i heard that.”

there’s a clip of you doing your makeup—glossy lips, rhinestone clips, cream blush dotted on your cheeks like strawberries. drew walks by shirtless in the background, coffee in hand.

“you’re so hot,” you whisper.

he raises an eyebrow. “me?”

“no, me.”

“ah. yeah, accurate.”

you try to do a haul—“so this is my purse, i got it because it looks like a bunny—” but then drew literally picks you up mid-sentence and tosses you over his shoulder.

you’re screaming-laughing, and the caption reads:

me trying to be a girlboss vs my overgrown boyfriend

there’s a jump cut to you guys at the farmers market. you’re holding an iced matcha and trying to talk about the strawberries you bought, but drew’s feeding you one while you talk and it turns into a whole thing.

“stoppp, i’m filming,” you giggle.

“nah. open.”

“ugh you’re obsessed with me.”

“mhm.”

final clip: you in bed, makeup off, wearing his hoodie. you look into the camera and whisper,

“okay i think he’s finally asleep. i had so much fun today. should we do his day in the life next?”

drew mumbles behind you: “no.”

“he said yes!!!”

“no i didn’t—”

“okay love you bye!!!”

caption: ✨day in my life with my big hot bf✨ #ditzygf #boyfriendsoftiktok #grwm

[madamechrissy]

PS5 remote Sukuna ruins your twitch career!

pairings - PS5 Remote Sukuna x gamer reader (YEP)

contents/warnings- You're a pro streamer, and your remote has broken! You dig up your old favorite remote, but it just SUCKS! - You're so mad you throw it, but that's when a sexy ass demon comes out of it! He's NOT HAPPY with being locked in your junk drawer, so he decides to give you a lesson in the form of backshots!!! Explicit sex/oral (m receiving) sukuna calling you a slut

My contribution to the unholy trifecta @indiewritesxoxo @yenayaps <3

You're trying your best but you keep losing in every match during your APEX stream. It's because your favorite remote is broken and you're stuck using this old crappy one with a joystick that keeps spinning you to the left! This was the first remote you had and shoved in a drawer forever, but you hoped it'd get you through the game.

"I know, I know! I carry you all the time, pick up my banner, shit! Yeah I'm the number one Loba so- and I'm broke!?" You're cursing with your teammates, furious as this stupid red remote keeps fucking yanking every direction.

It's an old, raggedy remote, your cat literally chewed on the toggles so the rubber is falling off. The buttons are sticky - you don't even know what from! You long ago loved this damn thing and called it your lucky remote until you bought a fancy pro one for several hundred dollars.

You even nicknamed it baby girl, and would give it a little kiss as you climbed to the top - the number one player for your main in the country. Usually, streaming made plenty of money, but you had far too many expenses this month (and a really bad Love and Deepspace addiction - oof!) and ol' reliable had to come out.

"Come on baby girl, work with me," you're biting your lip as you sit in your bright pink gamer chair, with your kitten headphones, and people are talking shit in the chat, earning you talking shit right back at them. They're tipping you a fuck ton telling you to buy another, but it's late and you'll have to order online!

You feel the damn remote vibrating against your lap as you wait for them to revive you again, cursing as it shakes your hands, you're not even sure what it's doing now. It keeps vibrating nonstop, flashing different colors over and over, and you're smacking at it, shaking it, but it's like it's possessed!

"Oh fuck this," you pick up the remote and throw it against the wall now, your name isn't crash out queen for no reason! "God, I can't wait to get paid again."

You're turning off the PlayStation now, when a hand -a huge tattooed fucking hand with black nails - grips your wrist. You scream then, looking up to see a huge man with red eyes and pink hair, naked!?!? You can't help but look and see his cock thick and huge even on soft, growing under your gaze.

"What the... who the fuck are you? A stalker?" He chuckles then, towering over you - god this dude must be seven foot tall almost!? His cock is just swinging all heavy, raising up more as his strong hands grip your arms now.

"I'm baby girl or whatever dumb fucking name you call me, insolent brat!" You gasp now, eyeing where your remote was thrown - and it's GONE!

"No way," you're shaking your head, and he smirks at you, before picking you up like you're some doll. "Hey!"

"How about I fucking throw you, huh?" He tosses you across the fucking room and you land on your bed, it bounces as he's unceremoniously tossed you. "Call you a 'cheap peace of shit' what do you think?"

"I'm sorry, fuck are you some... demon!?" He's chuckling then, the sound far too throaty and inviting, when he yanks off your cat headset, throwing them. "Hey!"

"Tired of your attitude, you're always raging - you're not even that fucking good at playing-" You smack him then, hard, and his ruby eyes glare, but the problem is you've made him hard now.

"I'll fucking exorcise you, demon!" You're shoving at him, when you notice his thick, throbbing cock, wrapped with veins and leaking pre. "Are you horny right now! Where are your clothes??"

"You think remotes fucking have clothing?"

"Go back in there then!"

"I think I'll cum inside you instead," he's yanking your panties down, ripping them in the process. "Had me shoved in your junk drawer next to your broken vibrator? Throw shit out."

"Should've thrown you out - ngh!" Sukuna's shoved two long fingers right in your hole, it gets way too wet, you're trembling, thighs shaking on either side of his hand as you cry out. "What are you doing, you can't fuck... you're a remote!"

"Hah, I was trapped in there, but finally you threw me hard enough you freed me - fuck you're wet," he's moaning now, scissoring his fingers in and out, stretching you too much. "Also, think I didn't notice how you'd set my on your lap when I vibrated? Slut."

"Am not even! You're a stupid... oh fuck, there... remote- no, don't stop!" He's yanked his fingers out then, sucking your drippy cunt off them, his cheeks hollowing.

That's when it hits you -

He's hot.

Your attitude shifts a bit as his cock gets even bigger, red tip leaking pearly drops onto your bed, and your tummy clenches. "Oh, dropped the attitude huh? Ya think I'll let you cum?"

He's shoved your thighs up now, putting his tip along your slit and rubbing, groaning as he feels a wet cunt for the first time in years. He's been sealed away for at least six years in this fucking remote, last time he was shoved in a Nintendo Gamecube! He's not going back in again.

He's determined to make sure he fucks you good enough you never send him back, also, Sukuna always missed you, locked away! He'd only see glimpses of you with new remotes, and that made him very sad. He loved you touching all of his toggles and buttons </3

"Beg for it, brat," he's talking shit even though he honestly wants to tell you you're pretty, but you're shaking your head. "Stubborn huh? Beg for it."

"Put it in! No - no not there!?" Sukuna's pressing against your ass hole instead, tip burning as you panic, he throws his head back and laughs at you.

"Can't take it up the ass? Pathetic mortal."

"Oh shut up - fine, please... what's your name? Baby girl?"

"I'm not baby girl!" He shoves his cock deep then, you're screaming out as your cunt barely takes him, drooling down his cock with each stroke as he presses deeper. He watches your tummy bulge and smirks at the sight. "Look, fucking wrecking your insides"

"You're... ah... so baby girl - your hair is so - pink and - hah!" Sukuna's fucking you hard now, for his pleasure, mean fucking strokes as he leans down, glaring and grabbing your chin, pink hair falling over his brow that you kinda wanna run your fingers through.

"My name is Sukuna, I'm the King - don't you laugh brat - of curses, okay!?" You're gasping in pain when he shoves so deep he hits your cervix now, you're so wet you hear it, the squelching wetness of your cunt, over and over. He shoves up your top, smacking your tits then, grinning as he sees them jiggle.

"Ah! Ow, baby girl!"

"I'm not baby girl!??!" He's done with your insolence! He flips you over then, using your crumpled up skirt as leverage as he starts making mean backshots. "Call me my name, now brat."

"S-Sukuna, fuck..." He's moaning then, shoving your head against your pillows, railing you as your game sits in the lobby, your character making weird NPC moves that somehow match the rhythm of Sukuna's cock.

"Beg me to cum, huh? Pathetic brat, look at you," he's talking shit because he's close, your gummy walls are gripping him too fucking good, he can't take it. He groans and leans over, shoving you in his prone position, biting your ear. "Beg me."

"Lemme cum, please... best remote ever..." He's moaning at that, it's just what he needed! He's reaching a hand around, finding your clit and running in circles, you're gripping your sheets and whining out, head falling back for more of his bites.

"Gonna fill you up s'good, won't even game without my cock inside you, huh?" That sounds great to you actually, you're so close now, whining and nodding when your - remote!? - kisses you, and drinks your moans.

His saliva drips in your mouth as he busts his hot white ropes in your cunt you're cumming with him, milking him for more, when he finally pulls back, he's standing and coming over to your drawer then, as you catch your breath. His cum is dripping out of your pussy, so much.

"What is it?" You manage to as, and he's holding up one of your mini skirts and glaring.

"This will never fit me!? You need to buy me a wardrobe."

"No, I need a new remote! I can't afford clothes too!" He's standing now, walking up to you, dick still on hard and dripping from you.

"You will have me naked all the time so you can game more!?"

"I'm a professional streamer!"

"That's it," Sukuna's shoved his cock in your mouth then, pulling at your hair, you get so fucked out you order him clothes when your direct deposit hits </3 Your pussy hurts too much to game right now anyway.

NOT EVEN SORRY anymore <3

perm tags - @cutelittlesugarfairy @kitananami @todorokiskitten @grapesandraisins @kymber96 @vamqyx @sleepykittyenergy @mistytojigetolover @jaeminsmilk @thisisew @innocent-and-angelic @amethystarchild @ohreallyfriend @raendarkfaerie @rjreins @ti-mame @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @aeeliy @yourlocalcatscammer @angelzrulez21-blog @sabztov @beereadzzz @zetianzz @gamerhere @imsuperawkward @thelightknight21 @poopooindamouf @bhocalatebhipbookies69 @whorekyuu @simp-plague @chlefnikkl @jud3thedude @inotaku-talkz @morganmorine777 @1tsleesee @tolerantxo @hoesoflamentation @lizatonix @allilovessatoru @yamadramallamaqueen @delphiakira @felix4eversun @erendipi @nazzysworld13 @tenaciousavenueavenue @lucilleheart

[dolcecherub]

so close, so cruel⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

✧ pairing: oscar piastri x virgin!fem reader

✧ tags: virgin reader, lotssss of teasing, oscar is kind of a menace, first time, oscar begs, aftercare, dirty talk, established relationship, thigh fuck!!, sex, pnv, unprotected sex

✧ yap: honestly haven't written smut in a bit so i hope this is enjoyable and good but i neeeeddeddd to write an oscar that begs to fuck so yeah! i hope y'all enjoy and please ignore any mistakes it's currently 3:25am lol

✧ word count: 6.2k

It started with a simple hand on your thigh.

Innocent, technically. You were curled up together on the hotel bed, lights dimmed aside from the table lamp, some half-forgotten Netflix show playing in the background. Oscar had his usual calm about him, an arm slung around your shoulder, the other tracing idle patterns along the bare skin on your thigh. Every movement left a trail of fire in its wake.

You weren’t naive, you knew exactly what he was doing. Oscar had a way of teasing that never felt overly dirty, but it always lingered, always left you feeling flushed, thighs pressed together. Words that didn’t cross a line, but danced right on the edge. 

“You’re tense,” he said, voice low against your ear. His fingers had started to move, inching higher up your thigh, tracing a lazy path from your knee up through the inside of your thigh, only to trail back down before they got too far. “Something on your mind?”

You swallowed hard, eyes returning to the TV, attempting to focus again on the show. “No.”

He grinned like he didn’t believe you.

That was the thing with Oscar. He didn’t push, but he loved to see how close he could get before you’d squirm. And you always did, not because you didn’t want it, god no, but because you were still figuring this all out. You hadn’t been with anyone before him, at least not like this, and he knew that. And oh, was he so respectful about it.

Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t a menace. 

“You sure?” His head leaned down closer to you, breath skimming your neck, hand dipping just a little higher. Just enough to make your heart stutter. 

You leaned into him instinctively, legs shifting against each other in the smallest, most telling motion, his smile widening against your skin as he placed a soft kiss against your neck. 

“Oscar,” you warned, voice barely above a whisper, tone falsely threatening 

“Hm?” He hummed innocently, nuzzling into your jaw, peppering light kisses, momentarily flicking his tongue across your skin. “I’m not doing anything.”

But he was, he always was. Maybe not always with his hands, but with the way he looked at you. Like he could see straight through every layer of hesitation, of nervousness, and he wanted to unravel it all, softly, slowly. 

He was patient, too patient, and somehow that only made the waiting worse. 

And hell if he stopped teasing you. 

-‘๑’-

You were making a quick coffee the next morning, setting up a cup for Oscar’s tea as well, wearing his t-shirt and nothing else. The sun poured in through the hotel blinds, warm and soft, casting long golden lines across the dull colours of the hotel room. You didn’t hear him pad out from the bathroom, now barefoot behind you, his arms circling your waist. 

“You always wear my shirts like that?” he murmured, voice husky with sleep, his head leaning down, his chin resting on your shoulder as he tucked his head into your neck.

“Like what?” You asked, stirring a pack of cream into your coffee.

“Like you’re asking for trouble.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking a pack of sugar before dumping that in as well. “It’s laundry day.” You excused.

Oscar chuckled against your neck, feeling the vibration of his chest against your back. “We’re in a hotel.”

“Exactly.”

He laughed again, quietly and knowing, his hand grazing the bare skin of your thigh under the hem of his shirt, lifting it daringly. Lingering. He was far taller than you, his body nearly caging yours from behind as he was bending down towards you. 

“You know,” he added, lips brushing just behind your ear now, your body shivering at his contact. “You could just say the word.”

You turned your head to get a better look at him, eyebrows raised slightly. “I thought you liked the anticipation.”

His mouth curled, “I love it, but don’t pretend it doesn’t drive you insane,” he teased, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Touche.

-‘๑’-

Later, you lay in bed, reading on your Kindle while Oscar mindlessly scrolled his phone next to you, one hand absentmindedly resting on your lower back. He liked to keep in contact, just enough to keep your body aware of him. It didn’t help that now and then, his fingers would trace small paths, sometimes grabbing you a little tighter. Always random enough to throw you off.

“You’re quiet,” he said, without looking up.

“I’m reading something,” You mumbled, mind focused on the warmth of his hand on your back.

“You’re flushed,” He said, finally glancing over.

“No, I’m not-” 

He rolled over on top of you before you could finish, pushing your Kindle to the side, pinning you gently to the mattress, straddling your hips. “You think I don’t notice what I do to you?” He whispered, breath fanning your face as his eyes darkened. 

His fingers hooked into the bottom of your shirt, well, his shirt, and lifted it slightly. His hands roamed the skin of your waist, hands warm and rough. “I think you like it when I take my time, darling.”

You shivered underneath him, hands coming up to rest on his neck, lightly playing with his hair. His weight on you, the soft graze of his thumb along your stomach, left your body squirming. 

You exhaled shakily, “I hate you.” 

He smirked before leaning down to kiss you, his lips latching onto yours roughly. You let out a whimper. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, tugging your lips open, his tongue slipping into your mouth hotly. His tongue swipes against yours as you whine, hands tugging his hair, Oscar groaning at the pull. 

He pulls his head back, lips glossy and cheeks flushed as he began trailing kisses down your neck, wet and sloppy, sometimes pausing to suck a light mark into your skin. 

“Osc,” You whimpered, tugging a little harder on his hair as he groaned, lips trailing lower, leaving a wet trail of kisses. 

Reaching his head back up, he placed a light kiss on your lips before tapping your hip. His eyes were blown with want, his lips upturned deviously. “Alright, time for bed.” He spoke, your body slightly relaxing from disappointment, a teasing smirk covering his face. 

You pouted at him, cheeks flushed bright red, lips bitten raw as he climbed off of you.

Calling him a tease was an understatement. 

-‘๑’-

The next evening, you were both running late, on the brink of missing a team dinner with the grid. Your hair was still half done, dress zipped halfway, the strap nearly sliding off your shoulder as you finished your makeup, face as close to the mirror as humanly possible, trying to get the best possible liner wing. 

Your mouth was slightly open, forming an ‘o’ as your hand shook a little. You saw Oscar come up behind you, his eyes looking at your reflection adoringly, a small smile stretching his face. You yelped quietly, feeling his hands grab the arch of your ass, rubbing over it a few times before resting one on your hip and the other still palming your ass. 

You could see your cheeks redden at the action, feeling Oscar’s hips press against your backside, his arousal pressing into you. His eyes darkened as you watched him behind you, his eyes stuck on the shape of your hips in the dress, entranced. 

You huffed out quietly, deciding the wing was the best it was going to get as you straightened up, pressing completely against Oscar as you put away your makeup. 

His knuckles brushed the bare skin your unzipped dress exposed, sending a shiver down your spine as you bit your lip. “Need help?” He asked, full well knowing you did.

“Please,” You requested, tone soft and nervous. He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your neck, trailing a few further down as his hand slipped up towards the strap, gently pushing it off your shoulder. His knuckles trailed lower, nearing your tailbone, then back up again. 

“I don’t know if I wanna zip it up,” He murmured, the strap of your dress sitting idly off your shoulder, threatening to fall completely. 

“Oscar,” You warned, tone stern, knowing you both had somewhere to be.

He chuckled lowly, the sound thrumming through your chest. “Okay, okay.”

The zipper slid up slowly, torturously. His lips brushed against your shoulder as he brought the strap back up. 

“You have no idea how hard you make it to behave,” he whispered, lips brushing against the back of your ear as you pushed your hips back against him, his hands tightening on you. 

You swallowed, “Maybe that’s my goal,”

His hands paused at your waist before he let you walk away.

Barely.

-‘๑’-

You woke the next morning to his fingers tracing your arm. You’d fallen asleep tangled together, as usual, limbs warm and overlapping in a way that made it impossible to tell where you ended and he began. 

“Do you ever think about it?” you asked softly, voice less than a mumble. 

Oscar’s finger paused. “Think about what, darling?”

You turned over to face him, your voice quiet, a little nervous. “Us, that night. You know, when it does happen.”

He blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, “Every night.” 

Your breath caught.

“But I don’t imagine it for me,” He added. “I imagine it for you. What you’ll need, how to make it not scary, how to make you feel good, how to make you want it again, what I can do for you.”

That was the thing about Oscar. Sure he could be cocky and shameless all day, but when it came down to you, the real thing, his teasing quieted. 

He kissed your forehead lightly, “No rush, baby, I don’t mind. I’m ready whenever you are. I’ll wait.” He reassured.

You smiled, heart bursting, “Even if it drives you mad?” 

He grinned, a huff coming out lightly. “That’s the best part, darling.” 

-‘๑’-

Oscar had a sponsor event coming up, and of course, he had wanted you to be there. Your stylist had sent over a few options for you to try. 

Oscar insisted he help you decide, and so you found yourselves sitting in the quiet hotel room after a long media day, cycling through dress options that were best fit for the event. 

He watched intently, offering his opinions when he deemed necessary, ensuring he always complimented you regardless. 

You stepped out in a navy dress, tight, strapless, and fairly short, cinching your waist in essentially accentuating your hips. You couldn’t even make it to the mirror to look at yourself.

Oscar’s gaze snapped to you, eyes dragging across every inch of your frame. He sat up slowly, inching towards the edge of the bed, jaw clenched. “No.”

You blinked, a hand running across your body, smoothing any wrinkles. You gave a slight twirl, presenting your backside to Oscar, a small look over your shoulder catching his eyes staring. “No?”

“You can’t wear that.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “Why not?”

He stood up, walked over slowly, and circled behind you. “Because,” He murmured, mouth brushing your ear, “If you walk around in this, I’m going to get into a fight.”

You laughed, lighthearted, your head falling back slightly onto his chest. “You’re not the jealous type.” 

“Not usually,” he said, voice low, his hand sliding up your thigh towards the hem of the dress. “But right now I’m thinking about how easy it would be to slide this dress up.” He teased, his fingers pushing up the hem of your dress, dangerously close to exposing you. “Or off. No zippers, no buttons.’

You bit your lip.

He smirked. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You glared at him through the mirror, watching his hand roam your hips in the reflection. “I hate you,” you tried, your knees slightly wobbling when you said it. He tugged the edge of your dress, completely exposing you. His foot pushed your ankle, spreading your legs a little as your breath caught. 

“I don’t think you do, baby.” He said quietly, fingers grazing your inner thigh, seeing your arousal drip down slightly, his fingers catching it as he rubbed his fingers against your core teasingly. Your body shook, feeling his rough fingers spread your arousal. 

“You knew what you were doing. Knew I’d lose my mind the second I saw you in this, or that I’d want to ruin it, didn’t you?” He teased his finger teasing your entrance softly as he lightly fucked his fingers into you, your knees buckling, his arms around your waist being the only thing keeping you up. You whimpered, he was giving you enough to tease you, but not enough to actually feel good just yet. 

“Osc,” You whined out, body buckling from pleasure as he held you up, his fingers hitting a spot deep inside you.

“Take it so well, can’t wait to see how you fit me, baby.” He teased, quickening his pace, your stomach tightening. “Look at yourself.” He demanded, his other hand reaching up around to grab your throat, not so hard that it was painful, but enough to limit the air to your lungs, brain fogging at the intensity. 

You caught sight of yourself in the mirror, cheeks flushed red, eyes blown wide with need, tears brimming in them from pleasure. Your lips were parted, breathy and glossy. Oscar’s hand looked obscene around your neck, veins bulging as he tightened slightly. His eyes were dark, glazing over your body wantingly. 

The sounds of your arousal mixed with gasps and whines as Oscar continues mumbling sweet nothings encouragingly to you brought you closer to your release. His fingers slowed, teasing, pulling out before slowly fucking back into you, your mind dizzying at the stretch. 

“Oscar, please,” You begged, needing just a bit more. He chuckled from behind you, placing a soft kiss on the back of your head, his fingers plunging deeper, hitting exactly where you needed, a breathless moan escaping your throat as you crumbled. Your body clenched, writhing against Oscar, and he slowly eased his fingers out, a teasing pump making you whine.

You exhale a breath, body slumping as he circles his arms around you, pulling the dress down to cover you. “You did so well, darling.” He praised, kissing the top of your head, mumbling ‘I love you’s’ into your hair as you caught your breath. 

“Now you definitely can’t wear this dress or else I’m gonna spend all evening thinking about doing that,” He mumbled, placing one last gentle kiss against your head as he tapped your bum. You lightly slapped his arm jokingly, walking towards the bathroom to change back into your clothes for bed.

You heard Oscar chuckle behind you as he watched your legs tremble slightly from the aftermath of his actions. 

A menace. 

-‘๑’-

It had been a hectic day, lots of physical activities, and simply exploring the city with a few of the other drivers’ girlfriends. Tennis, a bike ride along the boardwalk and coast, a pretty hike and picnic, and my god, so many pictures. 

You had come back home to Oscar in the shower, the sound of water running mixed with the heat of the bathroom making the home feel cozier. After changing, your body needed a stretch to loosen all its muscles. You heard the shower turn off as you nearly flopped onto the floor in your bedroom. You laid out a few dynamic stretches, letting your body relax, sighs of relief leaving your mouth. You stood up, bending forward, your hands reaching for your toes, hamstrings burning at the pull. 

You closed your eyes, exhaling a deep breath as you heard the bathroom door open, footsteps padding closer. As you go to stand up, a hand steadies itself on your lower back, pushing your body back down as Oscar pushes against you. 

You immediately regretted the choice of stretch, vulnerable and exposed. He straddled your legs from behind, his other hand gripping your waist. 

“Need help?” He asked, far too innocently, for the way his hands were roaming your hips and his hips were pushing against you. 

“No,” You stuttered out quickly, unsuccessfully attempting to push yourself back up.

“Adjust your posture. Back straight, hips forward.” He instructed, his voice breathy. “Breathe, baby.”

You nearly died on the spot.

“I’m trying to stretch,” You muttered, muscles tensing up as your heart hammered against your chest.

“I’m helping,” He said, fingers splaying wide against your back. “This is very technical work.”

Momentarily, you ground your hips back into him, Oscar groaning at the movement. “You’re the worst.” You mumbled, a smile still evident in your tone.

“Correct,” He chuckles, “but look how deep you’re stretching now.” He spoke, his tone sultry with innuendos. 

You couldn’t even respond, just exhaling exasperatedly. He knew exactly what he was doing. 

He always did.

-‘๑’-

It was a particularly hot day this weekend in Miami. You were sitting on a curb outside the garage, licking a near-melting ice cream cone while Oscar stood next to you, sipping water. It was a few hours before free practice 2, his suit undone, sitting at his hips as his fireproof clung to his body. 

He watched you for a second too long.

“Baby,” He sighed, cheeks lightly flushed from the heat or the sight of you.

You looked up at him, eyes alight with energy.

“You can’t eat it like that.” He groaned, tone almost a warning. 

You blinked at him, taking another slow lick before asking, “Like what?”

He raised a brow, arms crossing against his chest. “You’re lingering, it’s obscene.”

You rolled your eyes, mind revelling at how easily you could also get him riled up. “It’s just ice cream.” 

He sat down, leaning in close to you, his voice low, meant for only the two of you. “It was ice cream. Now it’s a public indecency charge.”

You took an extra slow lick, simply to spite him, your eyes not leaving his. Oscar made a strangled noise, running a hand over his face and looking away. “You’re going to kill me.” He said, voice muffled by his hands.

“Good,” you said, smiling at him as if you hadn’t just made him hard. 

He reached a hand out, swiping a bit of melted ice cream from the corner of your mouth, slow and deliberate. His thumb dragged just enough to make your stomach drop a little, heart pounding. 

“You missed a spot.” He said, eyes heavy as he brought his thumb to his mouth, suckling the ice cream off, eyes glued to yours. 

Your breath hitched at the sight, his tongue swiping over the pad of his thumb momentarily. You didn’t speak for a full minute after that. 

-‘๑’-

You were sitting on the floor in front of a mirror, testing a few different hairstyles for fun. It had been a slower day, Oscar mostly out training for the day, as you stayed at home. He wandered in a bit later, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He leaned against the doorframe, simply admiring you as you fiddled with your hair. 

After a while, he walked over, squatting down behind you, placing a soft kiss on the back of your head. He twirled a finger through your hair before gathering it whole in his hands.

“So pretty like this,” He said softly, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Then he leaned closer, voice warm against your ear. He tightened his hold, pulling your head back slightly as your breath hitched at the pull.

“D’you ever think about what I’d do if I had your hair in my hands like this for another reason, baby?” He asked, tone deep, vibrating through your chest as your heart pounded against your ribs. 

You nearly choked on your breath, cheeks flushing.

He just walked out, satisfied with himself at the red on your face.

-‘๑’-

The hotel room was quiet, the low hum of traffic and the soft rustling of bedsheets filling the room. You weren’t asleep, nor was he.

Oscar was lying on his side, one arm tucked neatly under his head, the other resting gently across your waist, a comforting weight. His mouth was warm against your neck, trailing slow, reverent kisses.

Your shirt had long since been pushed up, panties pushed aside as his hands roamed your body as if he couldn’t get enough. His hands were everywhere, on your hips, your thighs, the sides of your neck. He kissed you as though he was trying to keep it gentle, but you felt it, his control hanging on by a thread.

He pushed himself up and on top of you, his weight welcome and warming, as his lips found yours, tongue desperately swiping over yours as you whimpered, one hand scratching the back of his neck and the other trailing down his chest towards his waistband. 

His hips bucked forward, your fingers pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants, his cock springing up, flushed and aching as your hand pumped him. You spread your thighs a little, feeling Oscar nibble on your lip before smoothing it over with his tongue. Your hand trailed back up his abs, nails lightly scratching along his body as he groaned. 

His hips pressed forward, and you felt it, him. Hard against you, not inside, but nestled perfectly between your thighs, slightly coated in his arousal mixing with yours. The thin friction, skin on skin, made you gasp. He lifted his head from yours, eyes watching your face as he pushed his hips. 

You clenched your thighs, wanting to make Oscar feel good too as he moaned. This, by far, had been his favourite way to get both of you off without crossing any lines. He bucked his hips, groaning at the wet slide between your thighs.

He exhaled shakily, forehead pressing to yours, his eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck.” He let out breathily as you looked at him, wide-eyed and cheeks flushed. 

You arched into him, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails slightly digging into him as his name spilled from your lips. You felt his warmth slide against your core, body begging for him. 

He rocked slowly, getting used to feeling as you clenched a little tighter, his hips faltering a little. 

You nearly fell apart watching him stutter.

He shuffled back, sliding off his sweatpants and boxers, dropping them off the side of the bed as his hands stumbled to throw off your t-shirt. His hand gripped your thigh, pulling it higher to rest upon his waist as his hips moved again, slow and controlled, dragging the full weight of his want between your legs, watching your arousal coat him. 

He groaned, eyes locking with yours as he spoke, “You feel…” he whispered, teeth grazing your jaw. “So fucking soft, baby, unreal.” He continued, voice shaky with need. 

You moaned softly, back arching. It was overwhelming, but you craved it. Every press of his hips sent sparks ripping through your spine. Although he wasn’t inside, it felt like he was claiming every inch of you anyway.

“Fuck baby, please,” He begged, although you weren’t quite sure for what. “Please let me fuck you, please I-” He exhaled, his voice whiny as you moaned his name. “Need to fuck you.”

Your heart pounded, nails clawing up his back as his cock throbbed between your thighs, your arousal’s mixing messily. “Oscar…” 

“Please, you feel so-” he gasped, hips rutting into yours especially hard, “so warm, so fucking perfect.” 

His tip slid between your folds, catching at the entrance momentarily as it slid, you whimpered at the feeling. He placed a shaky kiss to your lips, shuddering at the feeling. 

You moaned softly, eyes blown wide with want as you watched Oscar huff with need. His mouth hovered over yours, hot breath spilling across your lips. “All I can think about is how good you’d feel around me.”

You whined softly, you were right there with him, burning up with need. 

He kissed you, hard and messy, full of want. He pulled back, his face looking as though he was breaking. 

“Please,” He breathed. “Let me fuck you,” He begged, his voice raw and torn. 

You stared up at him, breathless, heart pounding in time with his. 

“I want it,” You whispered, his eyes closing at the words, a low groan rumbling from his chest. He exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for months.

“Say it again,” He begged.

“I want you.” You whimpered.

He kissed you again, slow this time, like the desperation from before was folding into something deeper. He leaned his forehead against yours, one hand trailing down between your thighs, the other cupping your check like he was in awe of your words. 

His fingers slipped between your thighs, pumping lightly, your thighs dripping with arousal as his eyes caught sight. You groaned at the slight stretch, heart clenching with nerves. He  

“I’ve got you,” He reassured, noticing the worry on your face. His fingers curl, hitting a deep spot, body arching at the feeling before he slid them out. He spread the arousal across himself, pumping his cock a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. 

“You’re everything,” He spoke, tone soft as he pushed in. Just the tip, your breath hitched, and he did too. His mouth fell open, eyes squeezed shut like the sensation wrecked him instantly. The stretch was unreal, your body shuddering. 

“Shit,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You feel-” he groaned as you clenched around him. “Fuck, baby.”

He hadn’t moved yet, simply just held it there, letting you adjust, watching you carefully through blown pupils and clenched teeth, his tip pulsing inside you. 

“You okay?” he asked, brushing a soft thumb over your cheek. 

You nodded, words caught somewhere in your throat, “Yeah.” You let out breathily, eyes brimming lightly with tears. Oscar bent down, kissing your forehead then your nose, then your lips, soft, slow and grounding. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered. “Tell me if you need anything.” He spoke, gently and caring. 

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling his body closer as you curled your leg a bit tighter around his waist in response. 

That was all he needed.

He pressed in deeper, the stretch making your head spin as he slid in, inch by inch, until he was fully there. Oscar breaths landed heavy into your neck, one hand on your waist and the other gripping the sheet beside your head like it was the only thing keeping him together. 

“God,” he groaned, “You’re fucking soaked, dripping all over my cock.” He spoke, the words making your tummy turn. You were clinging to him, gasping softly, overwhelmed by how close he was, how he fit like he was meant to. You could hear the slick drag of him between your thighs. 

He rocked his hips gently, rolling in slow careful waves. Not hard, not fast. Just intentionally, every motion is a promise. You moaned softly, body arching up into his, matching the rhythm. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth, “You’re okay. You’re perfect, so perfect, baby.” He reassured, his tone gentle with love.

You tighten your grip around his back, feeling his cock throb inside of you, vision blurring at the feeling of him pumping inside you. “Oscar, fuck.”

“I’ve got you,” he breathed again, one hand tangling in your hair, holding your forehead to his. “You’re mine baby, I’ve got you.” His words emphasized with a thrust.

“More,” You whimpered out brokenly. His thrusts quickened slightly, the sound of your arousal and skin slapping against each other fucking filthy in the air. 

Your head spun at the feeling of him, nails scratching along his back as he whispered sweet nothings. “Fuck you feel so good, you’re so tight.” He whined head falling to your shoulder as he fucked into you. “Gripping me like you were made for me.”

“You’ve fucking ruined me,” Oscar groans, hips rocking into you. He angles his hips, hitting a better angle as you whimper. You’re babbling at him, lips bitten raw as you look at him, eyes blown to filth. 

You clench around him, your body needing release. And fuck, Oscar nearly cums feeling you tighten around him. “Look at yourself, baby. Clenching around me like you’re fucking desperate for this, hm?” He teased, sitting up slightly as he fucked into you, watching your body rock up with each thrust. His hand reached up, thumb tweaking over your nipple as you whimpered.

He hissed through his teeth. “You feel that, baby? Right there?” He spoke, hand pressing down against your lower stomach, the pressure making your chest ache. You cry out, feeling his cock bulge inside you. You whimpered, nodding desperately.

He buried his face in your neck, breath hot and shaky. “You’re fucking melting around me. So wet-” He swore, voice shaking as he groaned. “I can feel everything.”

His hips snapped into you, rougher now, and the sounds it made, skin on skin, soaked and absolutely filthy, only made you clench harder. Oscar exhaled, grabbing your hips to keep you where he wanted you, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. 

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” he growled, teeth dragging against your skin. “Like I can’t help myself?”

You moaned, arching beneath him, eyes fluttering shut. “Yes, fuck Osc, please.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes glassy and dark and completely undone. “Open your eyes, darling, look at me. I want to see your face when you come.” He demanded, your stomach churning at his tone. 

You did, barely able to keep your eyes open as he slammed into you, again and again, hitting that perfect spot, your tummy bulging at how fucking well he was filling you. Your body went tight, heat building until it snapped. 

You shattered under him with a strangled cry, legs trembling, your cunt clenching around him so hard it made him swear, loud and filthy. 

“Fuck, that’s it. That’s it, baby, just like that. You’re so fucking good”

You were still fluttering around him, overstimulated and gasping as Oscar’s thrust slowed slightly. His pace stuttered, hands flying to your thighs to hold you open as he drove in deeper. 

“Where- fuck, where do you want it?” he gasped, barely coherent. “Tell me where you want me, baby. I’m not gonna last, fuck, I’m so close.” He begged, his thrusts getting sloppier. 

You clenched impossibly tighter, a tear spilling from your eye as you whispered, “Inside, I wanna feel it.” you whimpered.

That broke him.

Oscar let out the filthiest sound you’d ever heard from him, a half groan, half moan, as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself deep, his whole body going rigid as he came with a choked moan against your mouth. 

You felt it. Every hot pulse, deep and perfect, his cock filling you with warmth. 

He didn’t move at first. Just held there, twitching inside you, breath heavy, chest heaving against yours. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours.

He kissed you then, slow, open-mouthed, filthy, and tender all at once. And when he finally pulled out, you gasped at the loss, feeling disappointingly empty. “You’re perfect.”

He looked down at you, watching himself drip out from between your thighs, and let out a shaky laugh. “Look at you, fucking filthy baby. Look at what I did to you.” He said, running his finger through the slick mess between your legs pushing it back into you as you whine. 

He leaned in again, kissing your shoulder, dragging his lips down your chest lovingly before whispering, “You’re mine now, every fucking inch.” 

You whimpered, hips twitching at the pressure. “Oscar-” you gasped.

“You think I can stop now?” He growled, voice low and rough, his body sliding down against yours. “When you’re this wet, this open for me, when I can see what I’ve done to you?”

He sat back a little, spreading you open again. He knelt between your legs, eyes fixed between them, lips parted like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to ruin you with his fingers of his mouth. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered. “You let me know if it’s too much okay, baby?” He reassured, his eyes hungry with want. 

He dipped his head and licked a striped through the mess he left inside you, groaning low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you. 

You sobbed, a hand flying to grip the sheets, the other threading through his hair, body jolting at the overstimulation. 

“You taste like me,” he said, almost smug, tongue dragging over you again. “So fucking sweet, how the fuck am I supposed to be gentle, hm?” His eyes running over your body hungrily, peering up at you from between your legs. 

His hands pinned your thighs wide as he sucked your clit into his mouth, rough and hungry, pure filthy, wet, need. 

You were already close, too close. “Oscar, I- please,” Your voice cracked, hips bucking up. 

“Yeah baby,” he groaned into you, “I know, gimme another darling. Let me hear how pretty you sound with my cum still dripping out of you.” 

That pushed you straight over. You came hard, again. Your whole body shaking, breath catching on a scream as he worked you through it with his tongue and fingers, relentless and soaked. 

He pulled back only when your thighs were twitching, lips slick and shining, eyes glazed with lust. 

He looked wrecked. 

And hard again.

“Turn over,” he said, voice hoarse, wrecked and commanding. You blinked at him breathless.

He reached down, slapping your ass once, just enough to make you jump. “On your knees. I’m not done with you.” a tone of ferality to him. 

You obeyed, barely able to hold yourself up, Oscar’s arm coming around your waist to support your body. He lined himself up behind you, dragging his cock through your folds teasingly, 

“Gonna fuck you one more time okay, baby?” he groaned, hand gripping your hip like a vice. “And you’re gonna take it.”

You moaned, shameless and needy.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, voice strained, “Opening up for me again, you’re mine.” You nodded, barely able to breathe.

“Say it.” He commanded, sliding into you slowly.

“I’m yours,” you gasped, face falling onto the pillows.

“That’s right,” he muttered darkly, sliding in and out, deeper and rougher, more possessive now. Filthy, and in love, and completely fucking obsessed. 

And it was quite safe to say he didn’t stop until you were crying into the pillows, shaking, and ruined all over again. 

“You okay?” he asked, your body collapsing forward into the pillows, legs trembling, heartbeat still fluttering somewhere in your throat. Your body felt wrecked in the best way, used, filled, warm.

You barely registered the sound of the sheets rustling behind you until you felt Oscar’s hands on your hips again, softer this time, thumbs pressing light circles into your skin. 

“Hey,” he whispered, voice rough from the use, but gentle now. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”

He eased out you slowly and carefully, you winced at the loss. Oscar leaned forward, kissing the top of your spine, then the back of your shoulder, his lips lingering. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He disappeared for a moment, you heard the tap running, the sound of a warm cloth being wrung out, then he was back, sinking onto the bed beside you, gently coaxing you onto your back. 

His eyes flicked across your body, his work. The redness on your thighs, the marks on your neck, the mess between your legs. 

He swallowed hard.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said softly, in awe. “Completely mine.” You shivered at his words.

“Too much?” he asked immediately, eyes snapping up to yours, alert. “No.” you whispered, “Not even close.” A small smile crossing your face.

Relief washed across his face, and he kissed you, without any hurry. His hand cradling the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, you leaned into him, your body aching but weightless now, as if everything inside you had finally settled. 

He cleaned you gently, his touch light but focused, whispering quiet apologies every time you flinched. 

When he was done, he pulled you straight into his arms, blankets pulled up, limbs tangled. You tucked yourself into his chest, cheek against his warm skin, listening to the slowing rhythm of his heart. 

He kissed your forehead, then again, and again, like he couldn’t stop. 

“You okay?” he asked again, his voice barely above a whisper now.

You nodded into his neck. “I’m fantastic.” you let out lightly. 

His arms tightened around you. “I love you.” he murmured, burying his face in your hair. You smiled, half-asleep already. “I love you.” you mumbled happily. 

There was a long pause. Just the two of you, breathing together.

“You know I’m never letting you out of this bed again, right?” he whispered. “Like… we live here now.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You say that now.”

“I mean it,” he mumbled, already pulling you impossibly closer. “You’ve got me obsessed.”

And with your body against his, the smell of skin, sweat, and something softer between you, you fell asleep with him wrapped completely around you. Safe, warm, and entirely his. 

-‘๑’-

[anonf1writer]

Lando gives you his 4 tally mark necklace so everyone knows you're his 😍

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written. 3,1k words. warning: suggestive language. +18. note: this took me almost two months to get done. I'm so, so sorry! I hope you're still around to read it, and I hope I didn't disappoint. Thanks for the request, it means a lot to me!

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The context of your relationship with Lando was easy to describe: you two had met through mutual friends less than a year ago, started casually hooking up right away, and had been officially dating for over six months now.

Giving the nature of Lando’s occupation, and the attention his every move got, things were still pretty private between you, meaning that the general public new nothing about your existence yet. Or of what was happening behind closed doors. Like the fact that you had met each other’s families, that you were comfortable around each other’s friends, and that at this point your visits to his apartment had been frequent enough for you to consider his place a little bit yours, too.

For the most part, when he was traveling and busy being a Formula 1 driver, you spent your time at your own place, doing your own thing. But on those weekends when he was back, or during those rare two or three days off in between races, you joined him in a blink of an eye. No invitation needed—not anymore. Both always on the same page when it came to making the most of it, as in everything, together.

On that particular Monday night, the one that set this storyline into motion, it wasn’t any different. You and Lando were at home, his home that was slowly becoming your home, and one of your closest friends was over for some wine and food. The two of you enjoying each other’s company in the living room, laughing and gossiping on the couch, while Lando distracted himself and livestreamed with his own friends behind closed doors. Nothing big, nothing new.

Sometimes, as you two blabbered and laughed, he would pop out of the room to get a snack, to go to the restroom, or just to check up on you. Just to say hello. To make a silly joke and move on. Never a big deal. Never anything that interrupted the conversation that was going on between you and your friend. Not even when the topic shifted to your new co-worker, a guy who had joined the company you worked at less than three weeks ago, and had quickly developed a not-so-subtle crush on you.

“What about that guy from work?” your friend asked, synced with the opening of Lando’s game room door. “Is he still texting you at random hours?”

Busy chewing the last remains of your pizza, you just grimaced and shook your head. Then watched Lando cross the living room and disappear into the kitchen.

“I think…” you said, then stopped to swallow the food, “I think he finally got the message.”

“Good...” Your friend nodded, and took a sip of her wine. “What was his name again?”

“Vincent.”

Mimicking her earlier movements, you leaned in and grabbed your half-finished glass from the coffee table. And then, as you were sitting back and bringing the wine to your lips, a tiny snort left your nose, and you shook your head. All to yourself.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing... He just followed me on insta the other day.”

“Shut up...”

“Mhm…”

You sipped more of your wine, watching your friend frown as you did so.

“How did he even find you?”

“I don’t know…” You shrugged. “But he did, and then he liked a bunch of my older pictures.”

“Noooo!”

“Yeah…”

“Oh my God! Can a guy ever read the room?”

A soft chuckle left your mouth.

“I didn’t follow him back tho, so again, I think he got the message.”

“He knows you’ve got a boyfriend, right?”

You shrugged again, then shuffled on the couch, pulling your legs up and making yourself comfortable.

“Everyone at the office knows, so maybe someone told him? I don’t know.”

“Wait, so you didn’t tell him?”

“I  didn’t even tell him my name, let alone the fact that I’m dating someone I can’t really talk about.”

Your friend rolled her eyes, and then sighed. “Look, I think it’s lovely how consistent you two are on keeping each other a secret, but just this once I think you should tell him you’re dating and therefore not available.”

At that, it was your time to roll your eyes. “Or... He could realize I’ve done nothing to suggest I’m interest and back off because I don’t want him.”

“Right,” she laughed. “You’re talking about a guy that’s been acting like a creep.”

“Exactly. So if he bothers me again, I’ll raise a complaint to HR for harassing.”

You changed the topic after that, and a few minutes later Lando stepped out of the kitchen, the salad he had ordered in hands. He paused to chat a bit with you two, then kissed your temple and made his way back to the game room.

Eventually, your friend said goodbye and left Lando’s apartment, and you took a moment to clean up the mess left behind. Lando was still busy in his own world, his loud laughter vibrating through the walls and making you laugh along from time to time.

It was on your way to the bedroom that you decided to stop by. Just to let him know.

You knocked on the door once, and then another two times—the code you had unintentionally created to avoid interrupting his livestream and getting caught on camera.

“Yeah?” he shouted, but you knew better than shout back at him. Instead, you cracked the door open slightly. Barely. Only enough for you to peek inside and glance at him.

Lando’s eyes were already waiting for you, his head turned to the side while he fully leaned back into his chair.

“Heyyy…” he breathed out, lips curling up into the cutest, softest smile while he stretched his arms up in the air.

“Hey...” you whispered back, lips curling up as well.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you said quietly. “Just saying hi before I get to bed.”

Lando dropped his arms and placed his hands on his lap, then tilted his chin towards the computer.

“It’s muted,” he said. “No need to be quiet.”

You raised your eyebrows, not changing the volume of your voice as you answered, “That’s what you said last time.”

Lando’s smile got bigger, and his eyes wrinkled at the sides. Mischief and playfulness taking all over his expression at the mention of that chaotic memory—when a female voice laughed loudly in the background of an allegedly muted livestream and caused a very serious online meltdown.

“I checked twice,” Lando said, turning back to the camera and giving a thumbs up. “Right, chat? You can’t hear me right now, can ya?”

He leaned in, then, squeezing his eyes to the screen.

“See? They are all lecturing me. Lando, we can’t hear you. Mic’s off, Lando. Lando turn your mic on. Lan—”

“Okay, okay.” You rolled your eyes and pressed your temple against the frame, but a soft chuckle still left your chest at his silliness. “Got it, yeah.”

He leaned back and turned his head to you, smugness written all over him. “Told ya. I learn from my mistakes.”

He winked. And, once again, you raised your eyebrows.

“They can still see tho, can’t they? So don’t get cocky.”

“You’ve barely opened the door,” he laughed. “Not even I can see you, I doubt they’ll be able to.”

“Yeah? Just watch them read your lips or start analysing who you’re talking to so late at night.”

“C’mon…” he laughed again. Head tilting back as he faced the ceiling. “Don’t be si—”

“Ooookay…” you snorted and stepped back from the door, a little too tired to get into one of his playful arguments. “I’ll save you from finishing that sentence.”

“What? C’mon… I’m just teasing.”

“I know. You’re having fun while I’m worried trying to protect your wishes. Then tomorrow you’ll be snapping at me because someone found out you’re not alone and I’ll have to watch you overthink while trying to find ways to prove I don’t exist.”

The world paused around you.

Time paused inside the room.

You watched the moment his face fell. How his expression changed along with the drop of his shoulders. As if some unknown truth had been thrown at him.

And just like that, regret dawned on you, a tight knot twisting low in your gut as you tried to make sense of your words. Of your abrupt change of mood.

You looked down to your feet and sighed, your voice coming out like a whisper when you spoke again. “Sorry… I don’t know why I said that.”

Lando nodded.

You noticed his movements, the way he turned back to his computer and leaned forward to reach his keyboard. How he typed, then clicked a few things, and then how everything went off. Heavy silence easily filling the room.

“C’mere,” he said, once again leaning back into his chair, then fully turning it towards you. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and Lando tilted his head slightly to the side. “Please?” He stretched his arm to you. “I’m not streaming anymore, I promise.”

You checked the screen, just to be sure, then dropped your arms to your sides and sighed. Embarrassment taking over your chest—and flushing across your neck and cheeks—as you walked towards him.

Lando didn’t wait for you to stand in front of him before reaching out for your waist, hands grabbing your sides and pulling you down to his lap with the easiness of someone who had pulled that move hundreds of times before.

You gasped, even squealed a little, a smile curving your mouth as you adjusted yourself to sit on his thighs. Body to the side and legs hanging in the air. Arms circling around his neck. Eyes settling inside his gaze.

Silent.

Comfortable.

Easy.

“Sorry,” you said. Again. “Didn’t mean to snap.”

“I know,” Lando smiled, placing your hair behind your ear, then cradling your cheek. “I never tried to prove you don’t exist. You know that, right?”

“Of course, yeah.”

“Is it how I make you feel, tho? Like I’m trying to hide you or something?”

“No... C’mon... I understand why you’re so... Protective. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Ok…” He nodded, arms settling around your waist, pulling you a bit closer to him. “Just making sure.”

“Sorry for making you end the stream.”

Lando smiled. “Thank you for making me end the stream.”

A smile grew on your face, too.

There was a pause, in which he held your stare in silence as he moved one hand to the back of your neck.

“C’mere,” he said, then pulled you in, his lips brushing over yours once, then twice. Slowly. Softly. As if it was the first time he was getting a taste of them. As if he wasn’t really sure he was allowed to do that.

Your chest fluttered, and you leaned into him. Melted into him. Eyes falling shut and hands moving to curl tightly around his jumper. To hold onto its neckline like you were afraid he would suddenly stop and leave. Like he could vanish.

A low, contented hum escaped him, almost like he didn’t mean it. Like he couldn’t help it. Like he was melting into you, too. Hand pressing on the nape of your neck and arm anchoring around your waist, guiding the pace while he tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

You exhaled through your nose and followed his lead. Stomach flipping and thoughts blurring. Getting lost into the tenderness and casually of it. Into how personal, intimate, and affectionate it felt. How soft, how steady, how electric it was. The way he moved, the way he sounded, the way he tasted. How he treated you with respect and carefulness, like you were the most delicate and precious thing in the world, and yet made you feel breathless and powerless, like you could die if you didn’t get more of it. Of him. Or this.

And then, Lando pulled away. Panting. Hand still holding the back of your head and lips still brushing yours when he asked, “Who’s Victor?”

Your lips searched for him, unwillingly. Automatically. Your body craving for more before his words clicked inside your mind.

He didn’t stop you, kissing you back and allowing your mouths to ghost over each other as you spoke between kisses. Never quite gone.

“Victor?” you asked.

“Mhmm…” His nose bumped against yours, and he slipped his hand between your hair, making sure you wouldn’t lose the pace.

“I don’t… Hmm… I don’t know… Shit… Who’s Victor?”

“I don’t know…” he repeated. “Someone that’s been hitting on my girlfriend… Or so I’ve heard…”

You blinked your eyes open and flinched back. Just an inch. As far as he allowed you to. Only enough to meet his eyes.

“What?”

Lando shrugged, and you licked your lips. Trying to gather your thoughts. Trying to make sense of what the heck was going on.

“You mean Vincent?”

He rolled his eyes and pulled you back in, his lips barely touching yours before he was tilting your head back and moving them down your jaw.

“Potato, patahto,” he murmured, his warm breath hitting your neck while he kept smothering your skin. Your throat. “Still hitting on my girlfriend.”

A smirk grew on your lips, and you closed your eyes, feeling his lips kissing your sensitive spots. Feeling his tongue getting its own taste, his teeth grazing right behind.

“Didn’t know you were listening to us...”

“Was I supposed not to?”

He sucked onto your sweet spot, and you gasped. Thighs clenching and fingers twisting even tighter around his jumper.

“Fuck…” you breathed out.

“I know…” Lando murmured, brushing the tip of his nose up and down the same spot. “I wonder how many until I leave a mark…”

“You never leave any…”

“Maybe I should start…”

He kissed you again, softly, moving his mouth and making sure no inch would go unattended.

Heat built low in your belly, slow and relentless, and you shuffled on his lap—even though the position you were in didn’t allow you to feel much of him.

“Jealous?” you managed to ask.

Lando snorted and pulled away, guiding your head so you would look at him.

“Just annoyed… Pissed, actually… Why is some random guy texting you and going through your photos? Who the fuck does he think he is?”

You smiled, hands loosening up around his clothing and moving up through the back of his neck. Fingers tangling with his curls as you said, “Someone who stopped texting after I left him on read, and who never got a follow back from me…”

“Hm…” He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut while you ran your nails up and down his scalp. “Can’t say I’m not happy to hear that.”

You chuckled. “Did you think I’d react differently?”

“No…” he said, eyes meeting yours again. “But as confident in our relationship as I am, can’t ever get too comfortable, can I?”

You tilted your head, not really knowing what to say at that.

Thankfully, Lando didn’t give you too much time to think about it before he added, “Don’t want him to think you’re single, tho.”

“We don’t know if he thinks that.”

“Then I want to make sure he knows you’re taken.”

You smiled. “I’m taken, huh?”

Lando rolled his eyes, hands sliding down your spine while he stretched his back and got taller underneath you.

“You’re mine,” he said, voice an octave lower and fingers reaching to the hem of your sweater. “Just like I’m yours. Yeah?”

You nodded, curling your body to place your forehead against his. Feeling his bare touch pressing on your lower back, warm and needy.

“Yeah... You know I am… Yours.”

“I know… I want him to know, tho. Not just him, everyone.”

“Lan…” you sighed. “If this is because of what I said, you don’t have to—”

“Not saying this because of what happened,” he said. “I’m saying it because I love you and because you’re beautiful and I don’t want stupid wankers hitting on you when I’m not around.”

“Well… That’s not really fair, is it? I can’t stop girls from hitting on you while you’re not around.”

“Babe, not one single girl has flirted or—”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Loudly enough that you had to bring one hand to cover your mouth.

Lando smiled. And you noticed how something softened inside him. How he dropped his shoulders. How his touch went from greedy to affectionate. Still pulling you closer, still holding you in place, but with a different intention behind it.

 “I mean it, tho,” he said. “I don’t want to keep hiding it anymore. I heard when you said I’m someone you can’t really talk about, and I don’t want you to feel that. I want you to say ‘I’ve got a boyfriend’ and throw my name into a conversation if you feel like it. Just… Y’know… Want it to be natural.”

You pressed your lips together and sighed, pushing the playfulness aside to understand the seriousness of what he was suggesting with that.

“Okay… But just so you know, this feels natural to me. I don’t have to say ‘my boyfriend Lando Norris’ for me to talk about you. People who know me know I’m not single, the only reason why I haven’t told Vincent it’s because I haven’t really sat to chat with him. He saw me twice and decided it would be a good idea to get my number without even asking me about it.”

“Fucking idiot.” 

“Right?”

“Can’t really blame him, though… Kinda hard to look at you and not to fall in love.”

“Oh my God…” You rolled your eyes, but also smiled, shoving his shoulder playfully before hugging his neck. “Shut up.”

He did as you told, busying himself by kissing you instead of talking again.

From then on, the kissing melted into something more. The chair becoming uncomfortable to hold so much want and so much need from both of you, and your touches and steps guiding you blindly to his bedroom. To your bedroom. To your bed. Clothes getting lost along the way.

“I love you,” he said, over and over again.

Stealing your breath away.

Making you forget your name.

How you got there in the first place.

Until you were shaking and falling on top of him, his hips digging and pushing until he got the last bit of pleasure out of you. Of him. Of both.

Erratic. Intense. Everything.

The next morning, Lando left earlier than you. You didn’t even hear him, didn’t even feel him. Tangled and sprawled in the sheets. Blissfully happy. Satisfied.

You saw it when your alarm went off, though. His tally mark necklace, his number four shining in the sunlight. Right on top of his pillow. And a post it right in between the two.

For you. So everyone knows you’re mine ;) Love you. LN.

And that’s how it happened.

That’s how you ended up clasping his necklace around your neck.

And that’s how now, every time you think of him, you bring your hand to your chest and hold onto him. How you know he’s always there, like a part of you. Loving you. Whether everyone knows it...

Or not.

──────────────────

[dcxdpdabbles]

Jazz: Hi Honey!

Jason: ?

Jazz: This is my boyfriend, the one I was talking about so I really can't give you my number.

Creepy guy: Is he really your boyfriend?

Jason catching on: Yeah, I am. You got a problem?

Creepy guy: No, no, no. I can see she's already claimed for. Sorry didn't mean to overstep. I'll go. *runs away*

Jazz: *Angry Huff* Claimed!? Like I'm a thing!? Agh!

Jason: Are you alright? Did he do anything to you?

Jazz: I'm fine. He was annoying more than anything. Creep followed me from the subway station on the seventh.

Jason: That's far.

Jazz: Yeah if you didn’t help I was going to break my promise with my brother and send the creep to the hospital then get arrested again.

Jason: You have a criminal record?

Jazz: Whats with that tone?

Jason: Sorry, you don't look the part. I mean no offense, but you're dressed like you work in a libary.

Jazz: I do work in a libary. I just also happen to be a highly train ghost hunter and humans are far easier to hurt then ghosts.

Jason smiling: Oh? How so?

Jazz: For one thing, humans don't usually notice when I disarm them. *Holding up Jason guns*

Jason: Wha- when did you-!?

Jazz: *Handing them back* See? I'm dangerous. Anyway see you around Motorcycle Boy.

Jason: Motorcycle Boy?

Jazz yelling over her shoulder: I picked you to be my fake boyfriend because you looked good on that bike. Stay hot, Motorcycle Boy!

Jason watching Jazz flip her hair over her shoulder and walk away: Im going to bring thay girl home to Alfred.

[tonycries]

Type Dangerous - R.S.

Synopsis. Five times Ryomen Sukuna’s “wingmanning” family is the biggest cóckbIock in existence, and the one time he finally gets what he wants - you, his nephew’s hot preschool teacher.

Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!teacher!reader, 5 + 1 things, Itadori family shenanigans, unckuna, he has the BIGGEST crush on you, making him blush, face-ríding, síxty-nine, Sukuna with tattoos, PÚSSYDRÚNK Sukuna, he goes feraI, p sIapping, p talking, he’s BIG, chokíng, tummy buIges, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, creampíes, through pantíes, cúmplay, slight bréeding, getting together, nosy families, lowkey crackfic, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.6k

A/N. HEHE TOLD Y’ALL I’D WRITE IT…

“This is my uncle, he just got out of jail.”

“Hell yeah.” Not the most courteous introduction to Yuji’s wide-eyed lil’ friends - but if Jin had bugged n’ blackmailed him into picking the brat up from preschool today then he was going to make sure it never happens again.

And as Yuji starts swinging from Sukuna’s broad, beefy biceps, he grins at his miniature crowd. “He also has tattoos and likes to drink.”

“Hell yeah- don’t forget about the cars, twerp.” Sukuna’s nodding, breezing past the horrified faces of parents that tugged their children at least seven feet away. Seriously, how long was this teacher going to take? He could see your back hunched by another corner of the classroom, hugging a sniffly student goodbye.

“Oh yeah- and he likes driving fast and slashing tires.”

You straighten, probably hearing every word - not that he cared, Sukuna couldn’t imagine who’d want to be around this all day. “Hell ye- oh.”

Until you turned his way.

And Ryomen Sukuna feels his heart drop- right along with the muscular right arm that was stuck out for Yuji to climb all over like a handlebar. And with it, his nephew. 

Who seems quite disgruntled at his sudden meeting with the soft, padded floor of the preschool classroom, standing on his own two feet for the first time since Sukuna had arrived here. He furrows his light brows, “Hey- wha’s the big- oh! Teacher!”

Seems like it runs in the family, Sukuna muses - because all it takes is one glimpse of you starting to head their way before Yuji lights up as brightly as the Sun itself. And to Sukuna, whose nephew was a perpetual Christmas tree, it almost made him wish he wore his usual shades.

At least that would’ve hid the way his crimson eyes sweep up n’ down your figure, languidly. Breath stuttered, mouth partly agape. 

Sukuna’s utterly forgetting himself before he’s called out by one of Yuji’s friends- a squeaky, orange-haired girl no older than five. “Ewwww- why are you red?”

“Shut it, bob-cut.”

“So—” Perfect timing, you sidle up to the bustling little group right as Sukuna spits out the tail end of his sentence. A brow of yours raised, bob-cut? 

And oh- you’re even more perfect up close. Is it really too late for him to enroll in preschool? He didn’t see any age restrictions around, and he could count till ten, surely. Genuinely considering, he’s gulping at the way your pretty eyes narrow. “Jin’s not here today? Yuji, do you know this man?”

The boy in question bounces with excitement, “Of course! This is Sukuna, my uncle who just got out of jail and drives fast cars.”

“Ah- ahah.” Said Sukuna chuckles gingerly, eyes flitting between his beaming nephew and your blank expression. Finally settling on the kid, “Yuji! What have I told you about uh- the benefits of um- safe driving and caring for our fellow civilians on the road?”

And there was Sukuna’s first mistake - asking a question, because surely that was a sign for Yuji to nod solemnly. “That it’s for lame pussies who- mmpf!”

“Ah…” You blink.

The damage was already done- but Sukuna’s clapping a meaty palm over Yuji’s mouth already. Oh, he was smashing this kid’s iPad when they’re home. A thin line of nervous sweat beads down his temple as he stares up at you, “K-kids these days, right, ma’am?”

Yuji frowns, “But you do call them lame pussies who-”

“Yuji!”

“Right right, miss.” The lively girl from before - Kugisaki, he thinks her name was - latches onto your swaying skirts. “And he also likes to drink.”

“And slash tires.”

“Tuna mayo.” 

The crowd mercifully quietens down for a split-second. “…”

Until a grumpy black-haired boy peeks through his bangs at that last line, as if translating. “He says he also sets fires.”

Sukuna never said that - but he doesn’t get a single chance to say so. Too busy staring at the constant knit of your brows, the way your gaze was darting from the children to Sukuna like a tennis match, trying to bite back a smile. “I-is that so?”

“And he has a lotta tattoos.” Yuji pries off his uncle’s muffling palm, back to climbing him like his very own jungle gym. As if to prove his point, he pokes the bulging band of black ink that encircles Sukuna’s bicep. “See?”

And if he was any less devastated about making himself look like an absolute fool in front of his nephew’s pretty preschool teacher, then maybe he’d have noticed that look in your eyes. 

Maybe.

Maybe he’d have seen the slight glint in them as you followed Yuji’s pudgy, directing finger - from the wide tattoos at his biceps, to his wrist, to the circles peeking through Sukuna’s off-white undershirt. So tight that it was like the pale color was nearly painted onto him- if Itadori Jin was the sweet, soft single dad that was always early for pick-up, then Sukuna was just rugged. 

From the dishevelled state of his twinning rosy hair, to the studded piercing on his left earlobe, to the naturally-honed muscles that made him look hulking.

And it almost seemed like you were…checking him out? But surely that was a figment of Sukuna’s imagination, right? Right?

You’re nodding as Yuji looks to you impatiently for approval, “Why, you’re quite right, Yuji.” The corners of your glossed lips curl upwards as you turn to Sukuna - and he feels electricity pang down his body. “Uncles these days, huh?”

Ah, he was gone for. 

It was almost a comical sight, you’re thinking - such a large, towering man well over six feet, speechlessly gawking at you. Leaned forwards, ears red; barely even registering the way his nephew grabs onto the tufts of his coral pink hair like a horse- whispering for the rest of his friends to join in.

Kugisaki makes two treks grabbing onto his sides before she’s looking up and crinkling her nose, “Ew. You’re red again, Mr. Felon.”

“He’s not Mr. Felon, he’s Mr. Tire-slasher.”

Yuji shakes his head, “No, he’s Mr. Mugshot.” Seated upon Sukuna’s broad shoulders, the boy adjusts his body to stick a hand inside his backpack and search. “Would you like to see the mugshot, miss-”

“Okay, time for us to get home.” 

Firmly, Sukuna tries to shoo away the army of toddlers trying to climb him as gently as possible - only four glares, now that’s a record. Nephew still on his back, bag now wrestled into his hand and well away from where Yuji could procure any printouts of his (admittedly flattering) mugshot. 

He’s feeling his heartbeat pick up just a lil’ as he darts his eyes back to you, “I-it was just probation, by the way. Happened to slash some uh- tires…” 

“And also drive fast!” Yuji pipes up happily.

“…That too.” Grouchy face wincing at the amused smile on your face- goddammit he’s never going to be able to show his face here ever again. Sukuna simpers out a wave, making sure to flex his chiseled biceps at you ever-so-slightly - if he couldn’t keep reputation, at least he could make you stare. “See you ‘round, teach.”

“See you around, Mr. Mugshot.”

Fuck. 

.

.

.

“I thought I said I’m not doing shit for the brat’s school again.” 

Jin patiently gestures for him to hush with the swearing in front of the gaggle of children, humming as he keeps handing out sugar cookies - half-off for dealing with Sukuna’s shoddy customer service. “Well, technically, we’re not in the preschool. We’re in the park.”

His younger brother seethes, flicking the ribbons of his pretty pink apron (Jin’s doing, of course.) “Having a damn bake sale-”

“Shush, Ryo. There are children around.”

“Exactly my point!” Was Sukuna the crazy one? He must be the crazy one. And he’s running a grumpy hand through his unruly pink locks- before remembering that one of those damn kids running around this bake sale had called him cotton-candy head and now he’s both irritated and unable to self-soothe.

It’d been Jin’s idea to drag him to the preschool bake sale, held at the nearby children’s park- something about raising money for a talent show.

Honestly, fuck talent shows. It didn’t even take two minutes surrounded by all the fanfare for him to have half the mind to eat those sweet treats himself and just leave-

“Oh hey, you’re Mr. Mugshot.” A little boy wearing a panda mask, one he’s never even seen before, points up at him and giggles as Sukuna glares. Did that nickname really spread?

He’s bending over their frilly pink stall with a damn good word or two about-

“Oh! Jin, thank you for coming.” Before he’s hearing the sound of the pearly gates of heaven, and an angel to accompany right along with it. You. Who’d silently meandered up to their cookie stand with an expression of both delight and concern. Your gorgeous mouth pursing as you stop to think, “And…Sukuna, right? Thank you, too, the children really appreciate the work you’re putting in.”

You remembered his name. He has to hold back a squeal. 

“A-ah, yeah- yeah! Of course, of course.” He’s swiftly leaning over the stall, arms crossed so that you can fully take in the way they streeetch his tight sleeveless turtleneck. 

In the faint distance - honestly, it feels like miles away - he’s hearing the panda-mask boy unsubtly whisper something to his father about how ‘Mr. Mugshot has turned red.’ 

Not! Obviously not- smooth. Ryomen Sukuna is supposed to be smooth, and he’s desperately attacking his features into something that resembles suave nonchalance. “I’m a…real philanthropic type of guy, y’know?” Cocking his head with a smug grin, “So, you come ‘round here often?”

You’re smirking, your giggle sounding like his favorite song. “Well, it is my preschool class.”

Ah, shit. His eyes widen just a fraction, right. 

Scoffing, “Tch, uh, yeah. I knew that.”

So many days spent mentally praying that yet another one of Jin’s work meetings went over time again - just so that Sukuna would have an excuse to see your pretty face. And that’s the first thing he says?

Suddenly, he’s too aware of the ogling toddlers, of the snug pink apron that he was currently donning - and the way your eyes seem to stray down to the gaudy bow settled between his pecs.

At this point, it seems even his brother takes pity on him. Adjusting his glasses with a soft chuckle, “It seems Ryo here had the greatest time at pick-up last week, he only had good things to say about you, ma’am.”

You blink in slight surprise, eyes taking in Sukuna’s large, fidgeting figure. “I’m quite flattered.”

Yes! Sukuna’s pleading eyes snap to the interested twinkle in your eyes, and then to the other man- yes, keep going!

“Of course, Yuji did tell me he was upset he didn’t get to show you his printed mugshot of him. It was all that he could-”

Fuck no! 

Catching the other’s urgent eyes, Jin sputters- “B-but- but, it was just a little vandalism, of course. Just a little ah…a little driving and- eek!” Cutting himself off promptly as soon as Sukuna steps down on Jin’s foot, syllables stumbling, looking ‘round anywhere for any distraction. “Why don’t you- ah! Why don’t you give our lovely teacher here a cookie, Sukuna. Free of charge.” 

You’re waving your hands, oh-so-sweetly, “I could never, please let me pay-”

“Nah, a pretty girl like you? I should give you more, ma.” He could give you a totally different type of cookie but this might just not be the place to say those words out loud- ah, he’s still got it. 

Sukuna’s thumbing out the biggest baked treat between a fluffy tissue and handing it over to you- ready to feel the sweet, sweet graze of your fingertips, if he was lucky.

But oh- it seems like the gates of heaven really have just opened up to him, because instead of taking it from his hands, you’re leaning down and taking a bite. Straight from where he held it. Humming as the candied taste floods your mouth, the soft pushness of your lips taps against the edge of his thumb.

And he wonders how they’d feel on his lips, instead. 

“Ah, sorry.” You’re taking a peek at him through your lashes and maybe he doesn’t still have it because Sukuna feels his breath hitch. “It just looked so good, and my hands are a little…”

And it’s only then that he’s noticing just how many boxes upon bags of things you’d bought from nearly every stall here. Happy to support your students - oh, you really were an angel. 

“Oh, let me.” Ever the gentleman, Jin hastens to move around a few bags so that you’re more comfortable. All while Sukuna can only hold out the cookie and freeze. Slack-jawed. 

Completely ridiculous. 

He doesn’t move a single millimeter, not even when you’re now able to easily grasp the baked good from him. Expectantly waiting, palm raised - while he only ogles you. 

“I uh- let me just-” And it takes Itadori Jin both hands to pry the crumbling cookie from Sukuna’s hands, sighing before wrapping up about two more in apology and handing them over to you. “We do hope you like them, ma’am.”

“Mhm—” Rubbing over the crumbs at the edge of your lower lip with one hand, you look dead-set on Sukuna as you murmur. “It was delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

Sukuna might not have been the chef - baker, whatever you said goes - it was Jin, but he can’t help but feel on top of the world as if he was. Waiting just until you’re out of sight, walking through the sunny Spring park up to the next parent-manned stand, to pump his fist with a low ‘hell yeah!’

“Ryo, you haven’t been this smitten since- well, ever.”

“Daddy, Mr. Mugshot is really weird.”

Sukuna whirls at a few staring parents- “The fuck are you lookin’ at?”

.

.

.

“Remind me why you’re here again?”

“Remind me why you’re here again?”

Arguing with a thirteen-year-old wasn’t very high on Sukuna’s bucket list, and yet, it seemed to happen on a nearly daily basis. He would blame middle school for being the root of Choso’s attitude, but he suspects the new emo look has something to do with it, too.

And maybe the fact that the older man was accompanying one of his weekly visits to Yuji’s preschool playground. Cutting off just the last of Friday’s classes just so that he could walk down the street to see his little brother. Despite seeing him at home every day, but still. 

That’s also what Sukuna himself was here for- of course. Why else would he-

“Ah ah- Kugisaki, what have I told you about using the toy construction hammer for things other than construction? We don’t hit, m’kay?”

Sighing, the way that Sukuna’s towering frame leans against the playground’s cherry blossom tree for support draws such disgust from Choso. Dark eyes flickering between his blushing uncle, and you - in the middle of the sand pit, trying to wrangle a class of toddlers. “You’re pathetic.”

“Shut it, scrawny.”

“Why don’t you just talk to her?”

Sukuna’s life flashes before his very eyes, and strangely it’s mainly made up of every moment where he’s embarrassed himself in front of you. Looking away with a huff, “It’s…complicated.”

The other snickers, “Well, it’s about to get a whole lot more complicated because she’s coming up to us right now.”

Oh, fuck.

Now, he might have had the sense to ‘accidentally’ bump into his oldest nephew just as he was on his route to meet Yuji (Sukuna had memorized his schedule, sauntering by this very block for an hour until he’d run into Choso) - but he didn’t have enough wit for this.

Conversations? With both parties and a classroom of preschoolers participating? 

He was just about ready to race right out of here and leave Choso to the wolves-

“Cho! You’re here as always.” You’re smiling as you waltz up to them, a neat line of toddlers following you as they would a mother duck. Hitting him with your scent of flowers n’ the sunniest of days, “And I see you’ve brought along a guest with you- how are you, Sukuna?”

“F-fine.” F-fine? With a stutter? Sukuna simply bristles at the smirk his nephew shoots his way, already feeling the tips of his pierced ears start to scald bright hot. 

“Bubba!”

Saved by the bell-like shriek of Yuji, enough to make Choso take a few steps over and hug his toddling brother so tight that the former squeals. Checking him over for scratches, dust, stickers- you name it. 

You’re catching the raise of Sukuna’s brows and chuckle, “He is always quite the attentive older brother. You should join us more often, I’m sure Yuji would enjoy having his favorite uncle around.”

Mouth dry, “I’m- I’m his only uncle.”

Yet, your grin still stands - a slight knowing curve in them that makes his brain fuzzy, and his lips just a bit too loose. Did he say he liked drinking again? What a fucking lie, you got him more buzzed than a shot of straight vodka pumping through his nerves. 

And he’s finding himself reaching over to brush a stray petal of cherry-pink from your crown. Blurting out before he can stop himself, “Hey…so what’s your ty- I mean, are you seeing any-”

“She’s mine!” Cuts off an annoying, grating voice - one that understood what you evidently didn’t, with the few syllables that Sukuna had been able to croak out.

And he’s looking over your shoulder to find himself being stared down (stared up at?) by a boisterous, buzz-cut boy slightly older than Yuji. Protectively standing behind you as he glared daggers, “When I’m old like you, she shall be my bride, Mr. Mugshot.”

Huh.

You’re droning out in your nicest tone, wagging your finger. “Now now, Todo Aoi, what have I told you about not proposing to your teachers?”

“To not.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Proposing.” Stifling a sigh, you realise that it would be yet another chat with Todo’s guardian about the boy’s harmless little puppy crush. 

But before you can direct the conversation back towards anything else, he’s stabbing an accusing index up at Sukuna’s looming frame. “Miss teacher here-” Not quite your name, but close enough. “-and my sweet idol Takada-chan are the only ones I shall marry. You can’t have either!”

“Who the hell…” Sukuna furrows his brows- what was this boy talking about? “Listen, kid, I-”

“Pffft–!” He could recognize that burst of muffled laughter anywhere, and at least Choso was having a grand ol’ time- whispering to Yuji, “Don’t you think this is like those late-night dramas dad pretends not to watch?”

No! Sukuna’s internally groaning. 

“Oh- oh yeah!” An over-hearing Kugisaki bounces at the mention of dramas, “My mommy watches those. Times like this the two guys will fight over the pretty girl.”

Todo puffs up his chest, “Then fight me, old man- I demand a duel!”

“I’m not even thirty?”

“That’s old.” Choso nods.

“You’re thirteen.”

“I’m five!” Yuji jumps up, and immediately his older brother’s pulling his phone out to snap a few hundred photographs at the cuteness. 

Todo stomps, “Fight me, fossil–”

And his young nephew - that traitor - is the next one to shrill with glee at the altercation, clapping his hands once Todo charges forward with a damn war cry to pummel Sukuna’s abs with hits about as fierce as cotton. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

At the slight raise of your brows at the chaos, Sukuna rushes to explain, “Please excuse my nephew’s behaviour, ma’am, I don’t know where he got it from-”

Choso deadpans, “But you’re the one that taught us that the best talk is to talk with your fists because-” The two brothers turn to each other in unison, as if preaching the truth and nothing but the truth. “-we’re no weakass bi-”

“Their father.” Sukuna grits out- okay, maybe that kid’s punches were getting a little more painful. Or maybe it was just the way you were cocking your head at him that made his stomach churn, “Surely.” 

“Defend the honor of your woman, geriatric–!”

Seemingly snapping out of the little reverie of taking in whatever the fuck this was, you clap your hands in that teacherly way to demand silence. “Alright alright, break it up. You wouldn’t want me to take down any of your star points, would you, Aoi?” Tugging away the boy from Sukuna, you grimace up at him. “I’m so sorry about all of- well- this.”

Waving off- remember, Sukuna, nonchalance. Nonchalance. “Don’t worry about it, mama.”

“Y’know how they apologize to each other in the dramas?” Kugisaki speaks up, and honestly, this girl really did speak up at the most inopportune times. She glows at all the attention on her, “They kiss.”

And she was a genius.

An absolute genius, bob-cut!

Yuji - ever his lil’ ally - starts pumping his fist with whoots- “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Starting up a slight chant within your group, you turn to him in question.

“I uh…” Sukuna starts, tilting his body down ever-so-slightly, until you could could nearly every thread on his dark hoodie. The way his slashing tattoos framing his jaw ripple as he gulps, “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, ma- that’s assuming you wanted to do something, and what I meant was-”

It was one second. A singular, heavenly second that your lips graze the right side of Sukuna’s cheek as he rambled - fluttering away right before his skin started to scorch with a blush.

Quite frankly, fuck nonchalance. 

“Ewww, he’s red again. What’s wrong with him?”

“Were you this red when you were setting fires, Mr. Mugshot?”

“He looked nothing like this in his mugshot- wanna see?”

“Salmon.”

Ears tinting a shade that matches his hair, voicebox void of any coherent words, Sukuna barely even functions until he’s hearing the sharp ka-chick! of a camera shutter. Whirling his head ‘round to find Choso with his phone pointed at him, catching him in all his flustered glory. “I’ll send it to the family groupchat.” He turns to you. “And to you on the preschool groupchat.”

Imagine Sukuna’s surprise when he finds you nodding, “Mhm, oh, and I should really be getting the kids back now, it’s almost time for the bell.” Making the kids waddle into a neat line once more, you wave. “Thank you for the visit- do come again, it was quite…interesting.”

And they stare - Choso at Yuji, Sukuna at you - as you and your classroom disappear back within the preschool walls. “No phone for you for two weeks.”

“No hot teacher’s number for you forever.”

Only after a second- “Hey- hey kid. Show me that number again? I’ll make it one week.”

.

.

.

Sukuna had almost, mercifully, forgotten about that damn talent show. 

The bake sale? Gaping at you for nearly five full minutes straight? Never happened. 

And he’d almost convinced himself of that- until the time came for him to be seated right on the very front row of the cozy preschool auditorium. Taking up nearly three chairs as he squeezes himself into the humble seat, arms crossed and scowling. 

“You know…” Jin claps as Yuji and Kugisaki fight to clamber onto stage first, with a reluctant Fushiguro in tow. About to showcase whatever it is that they’d been practising with doves and sticks all week. From the corner of his mouth, “When we had the kiddos over, Megs told me something very interesting the other day.”

“Hm.” Sukuna’s grunts noncommittally when Yuji pulls out a comically large fairy wand - ah, a magic show.

“Something about you duelling with a kid for the hand of a certain someone.”

Letting out a strangled groan, his eyes immediately find you - as they always seemed to do. Stuck on the way you were kneeled by the front of the stage, motivating each little performer tonight. “Y-ya don’t say…”

Jin beams, “You know, you should really ask her out, Ryo- oh! Do you need our help? I can tell you this, the Itadori family makes great wingmen.”

“Ya don’t say.”

Tattletale, Sukuna’s grousing. And just as Fushiguro Megumi finds himself being stuffed into a box - to be sawed in half as all good magicians did, apparently - the older man slowly, menacingly pulls out his prized camcorder. 

Just in time for Fushiguro to glance over and have his face pale at the blinking, recording lens. 

“After all, Megumi did say you were blushing like a- what was it- ‘maiden in love’ that day. How cute.” 

“Ya don’t say.” Sukuna zooms in, right on the black-haired boy’s ashen face once the saw raises high in the air to magically cut him in half. And to make things even worse, he starts pointing at his camera, mouthing through a grin, ‘Oh yes.’ At Fushiguro’s slight shake of his head. ‘You are dead.’

But, alas, it was too good to be true.

And instead of having the little snitch be the casualty in one of Yuji’s magic tricks, the talent show goes shockingly smoothly. Hell, Wasuke slept through only about half of it, which was as much of a compliment as one could get. 

All because of your efforts, surely - and when the entire thing ends with (surprise, surprise) every little brat getting awarded a winning prize, Sukuna finds himself not half-annoyed that he’d actually sat through all of it.

Well, right up until about when it was time for the exhausted preschoolers to be taken home by their families. 

And Yuji comes bounding up to the four with a squealing—“Dadda–! Bubba–! Gramps–! Mr. Mug-”

“Another word out of you and I’m throwing your iPad out the window.” Sukuna grumbles, heart leaping to his throat when he’s spotting your chuckling figure follow up behind his nephew, as if Jin’s elbowing wasn’t a sign enough.

Yuji frowns, “Aw, but I already told everyone here.”

Damn gremlin- but before he can get another word in, you’re already greeting his brother and father with a smile. “It’s so great to see you again, Mr. Itadori- I hope that blood pressure you were telling me about is better now.”

“Ah, ya know- I won’t be dying any time soon.” Wasuke barks out a hoarse noise of laughter, before beadily eyeing Sukuna. “This one, however…”

Your gorgeous face drops in worry, and he doesn’t know whether to whine at his father for letting you make that expression, or giggle because you cared about him. Fuck. “Oh no- everything alright, Sukuna?”

But Wasuke answers for him, “No. Not at all, quite the incurable disease, my dear.”

He watches on in matching confusion with Yuji as Jin lights up beside him, “Ah- ah! Right right, that-” Soothing his face into something pitiful as he turns to you, “That ah- thing that only heh- one person can solve.”

About as subtle as a sledgehammer. 

And just as efficient in bagging the woman of one’s dreams.

Because you only furrow your brows in confusion, “I’m…sorry? What?”

Sukuna’s older brother’s smile tightens in desperation, nervously laughing. “You- you know…that thing?” And you tilt your head, eyes darting between the four as if trying to work out the punchline. “The thing like- the heart condition? No- not something serious but like…the butterflies?” Now looking to Sukuna for help - as if the other man wouldn’t just let him rot in the very grave he’d dug for himself. 

Then at Choso, who’d been quietly attempting to disappear into the wall plaster. Trying not to laugh as he dotes on Yuji, “The doki-doki.”

Jin snaps his fingers, “Yes! Like the doki-doki? The-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake- he wants to fu-”

“That’s enough for tonight, pa.” It really does run in the family - because in a split-second, Sukuna has his palm clapped over Itadori Wasuke’s mouth. Smile painfully plastic, “Did you take your meds today, dear father? I don’t believe you took your meds today.”

He plunges his sprightly father into Jin’s arms, “Say, Jin, why don’t you get dad his meds.” Making note of the way that you - still thoroughly confused, and now thoroughly off your shift helping each student get to their guardian - were toyin’ with the cute decorations of your car keys. 

Letting his mouth work before his brain could regret anything- “And why don’t I walk you to your car, ma?”

“I- what.” You’re somewhat shocked at being addressed so directly, and at the kindly incline of Sukuna’s head. “Don’t you have a heart condition? I wouldn’t want to exert you, Sukuna.”

Wasuke grunts, “Exert him in another- mmpf-” Hastily shushed by Choso’s palm, more for his sanity’s sake than his uncle’s.

These damn- he narrows a glare down at an unabashedly-eavesdropping Jin and Wasuke. “No. No, don’t worry about it, they were just joking. Ha. Ha.” 

Well…it was quite dark outside the building, even with the surrounding streetlights. And your vehicle might just be a little ways away but it never hurt to be extra safe, did it? Especially when his stature was so intimidating anyways?

And so, you nod. 

And he walks with you.

More like floats beside you on cloud nine, actually. Sukuna’s sure you two made quite a sight in the corridor, if the way passing parents whispered to each other signalled anything - him, with his ears flared red, unable to even look at you directly as you two were alone. You, as perfect as ever.

“Ah- so-”

“What did you-”

You’re both speaking at the same time once you’re out of the school building, laughing into the nearly-empty night air that forms clouds out of your puffs of laughter. The few minutes of a walk to the parking lot seemed like eternity - and Sukuna would have gladly let it be. 

“You speak.” You’re urging.

“No you.”

“You-”

“I refuse.”

“Fine.” Rolling your eyes, you never noticed the way he always seemed to nudge his head ever-so-closely to you whenever you spoke. As if he was hanging onto your every word. “What did you think about the talent show?”

“Brilliant. All because of you, of course- got so much blackmail to use in ten years.” He cackles.

Though, that’s stopped short very soon the nanosecond you’re nudging him playfully. Heat touching heat. And he shivers, “Hit me if this is strange.” Letting the tense air clog his throat, at least, that’s his excuse for it. “But do you remember that thing I meant to ask you that one time at the playground…”

“Yes—?”

“Are you-” Sukuna’s husky baritone cracks and he twists his face into a wince, “D-do you happen to be seeing anyone?”

You blink, and there’s something about the way you look at him that makes him feel like you’re holding back such a smile. How he wished to see it right now. Musing into the silent night air, only thrumming with your footsteps towards the car, “Nope.”

“O-oh.” And if this was any other time, then he’d be embarrassed about how obviously relieved he sounds. How you surely must have picked up on it.

Faking nonchalance, he’s stuffing his hand into the baggy cloth of his ripped jeans, “Cool.” And it was a damn good thing you didn’t have x-ray vision like all the heroes in all those weekend cartoons Yuji watched - because then you’d have seen the way his painted nails dig in so deeply into his palms in pure excitement. Nearly hard enough to draw blood. “Very cool.”

“Very cool.” You’re echoing, now stood by the driver’s seat of your car - just waiting for him to say something. Anything. 

Waiting as he opens his mouth- “What’s your ty-”

“Yuji- Yuji noooo- don’t interrupt your uncle’s k-drama moment- oh, dammit.” Itadori Jin, who’d been chasing after an adventure-hungry Yuji, balks at the way you were both so close. Snatching up his struggling toddler, “Forget about me! We- we never here- go back to doing whatever you were doing!”

And somehow, you lurch apart as if you’d just been shocked. Only now realizing just how warm the temperature of his proximity was, fighting to keep your professional façade in front of your spying audience. 

“I bid you goodnight, Jin- Yuji.” Gesturing out a wave, you’re getting into your ride so quickly that Sukuna thinks he must’ve been dreaming you up. “And you, Sukuna.”

Nevermind- not a dream. 

Definitely not a dream. Because even in his sweetest hallucinations he wouldn’t have been able to make you say his name like that. Almost a purr. Almost batting your lashes.

Almost ripping out his heart from his very chest as you then speed down the road.

“That’s the best ya could’ve done, sonny? Even after I taught you everything to know about wooing a woman?” How very much like Wasuke to manifest from nearly thin air, from somewhere out of the shadows of the building. 

“Not that.” 

“Especially that.”

The older man only waves off Jin’s bemoaning concern about ‘ruining the moment- they had a doki-doki moment!’ “Choso’s in the car, can’t believe I lost a bet to a middle-schooler. Dammit.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen, “You…bet on me?”

“Whaddaya think, sonny?” 

Jin smiles, “Guilty.”

“Gwuilty!” 

“No- no, Yuji, not guilty.”

Wasuke paces away, shaking his head. “Thought I raised you better- keh! Thought I’d get grandchildren from you, too. Tch, now I owe a middle-schooler fifty yen, oh, woe is me.”

It takes a second for Sukuna to register the words, “Wait- only fifty yen?”

“Yeah, that’s just about my belief in you, kid.”

.

.

.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! 

“Oi- oi, Jin. Go get the door.”

“I’m cooking dinner–! Cho, could you get the door?”

“I’m in the middle of homework- ask uncle.”

Sukuna grumbles, why the hell was he the one to always answer that damn door? Honestly, Yuji could buck up and get some experience yelling at sleazy salesmen sometimes. Sprawled out across the TV room couch, he stares at his nephew playing with a toy bow and arrows set on the floor, “Yuji, could you get the-”

“I can hear you, Ryo.”

Dammit- there was a reason why Itadori Jin was the older brother. 

And there was also a reason why Ryomen Sukuna had a reputation in this quaint neighborhood for being a boor - not that that was much of a brag. But at least it explained why he was stomping up to the oak front door, damn near ripping it off its hinges with a growl- “We’re not buying any- oh.”

‘Oh’ was right.

Because standing right there on his porch was a damn sight for sore eyes - you. 

You, with your mouth parted and your brows slightly raised as you looked from the messy bangs of his locks to the oversized sweater he was wearing. You, who doesn’t even flinch about the fact that he’d just answered the door yelling. You, donned in a pretty lil’ skirt that makes him gulp- 

“You okay, Sukuna?”

“No. So how are you doin’ on this fine day, ma? ”

“Oh!” A happy call of your name makes you turn - even though Sukuna just stares, shell-shocked. Jin shoves him bodily out of the way, opening the door wider, “Please- come in, we’ve been expecting you.”

Looking down at the slight stain of something at the hem of his sweatpants, the other man frowns. It’s not like that was news he’d ever forget - so why the hell was he looking like that? “We have?”

“Yes?” Jin’s showing you the way in- only for you to be dragged in by an overeager Yuji anyways. And as the two of you disappear down the halls, he’s turning to his taller brother in genuine confusion. “Did Cho not tell you that we were having Yuji’s teacher over for dinner tonight?”

At Sukuna’s sputtering, Jin wastes no time grasping a nearby broomstick and thumping the wooden end up against the ceiling. “Kamo Choso–!”

And out comes a muffled reply, “I told grandpa to tell him!”

“Haaah? I told Yuji to.”

It sinks in. The fact that you were here, all prettily dolled-up and at their family home - and you’d happened to see him in nothing but a stained, ratty sweatshirt and pants torn down the side of his thigh to show off one tattoo. 

Jin grimaces, “Um…we can still wingman our way through this?”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

Murder does not, in fact, come before dinner; as all good manners dictate. And Sukuna decides that revenge can wait after he’s totally, completely, utterly made you swoon.

“S-so-” Only after a quick change into his best tightly-fitted turtleneck and his silver chains did he dare to show his face ‘round you again. Spritzing enough cologne to almost overpower Jin’s omurice, he tries to smize from where he was sitting right opposite you on the kotatsu. “Nice place, huh?” 

The shot of extra, extra strong sake that Wasuke slides over is a consolation as much as a ‘you’re not in a restaurant, you fool!’ He finishes the cup in one go.

“You do have a very beautiful home.” You’re nodding over at a proud Jin. 

“And the- food- how is the food?” Another cup- what moral support, father. 

“Mmm- amazing, I usually never have the time to cook much for myself with the kids n’ all.”

Which Jin takes as the cue for him to butt in on the conversation, helping it flow as smoothly as an enclosing dam would to a river. “You like kids, huh?” Kicking Sukuna underneath the kotatsu, he rattles the plates. “Our Ryo here also…tolerates children.”

“Really?” You’re teasing, “I couldn’t tell.”

“Why I love kids, yeah.” Sukuna tuts as he lifts his hand to pat the crown of Choso’s head- who only swerves out of the way, food finished n’ leaving the room to join his brother playing. Hiccuping, you were so pretty sat in front of him like this- too pretty, that the vision of you was starting to get blurry. 

And another cup.

He’s jostled by the tap of Jin’s hand on his arms- “And he’s actually quite sweet in his own way once you get to know him. I’m sure dad agrees-” Ignoring Wasuke’s ‘I don’t’. “-that he’d make such a responsible-”

“U-unless you don’t like kids.” Still stuck on that - still. Sukuna downs it and then shakily pours himself another. “In that case, I don’t like kids either. Yeah, can’t stand them.”

And another. 

Jin and Wasuke share a glance between themselves when the hulking man leans over the kotatsu towards you with what sounded suspiciously like a whine. “Would you want kids with me?”

And- 

“Sukuna-”

“W-well—time for Ryo to be put to bed, I think.” Jin hastily stands up, struggling to hoist his oversized younger brother from his seat. Failing, evidently, as in that time he’s managing to gulp down another two or three sake cups. “Dad- a little- help?”

Wasuke only shakes his head gravely at you, “You should know he was switched at birth.”

“We’re nearly identical twins–”

“Twins? What-” Sukuna babbles, “Does she want twins?”

Glassy eyes blinking n’ squinting furiously down at you as if trying to figure out whether you were real. Before ultimately giving up, it seems.

Because he’s stumbling a few unsteady steps forwards, pulled by Jin, before dropping to his knees and toppling his head over your lap, just by the gap of the kotatsu edge and your stomach. He’s nuzzling his face right against your tummy, “Mmm— maybe triplets. Would be the cutest fuckin’ things if they looked anything like hck! her.”

You giggle and he gasps- as if the epiphany had just struck him. “Quadruplets?”

Starin’ down at him, at the rosy blush painting his ears, you’re muttering. “You wish.”

“Dammit- even this hck! illusion of her is fine as fuck. Shit. I wonder if her type is…” 

Trailing off, he looks to his older brother for assistance- who helpfully supplies, “Sad and drunk?”

Wasuke’s contribution- “Zero game- as the kids say?”

“Dangerous?” You pretend to think, assessing over the mountainous heap of a man. “Actually- only pretends to be but is really a softie inside?”

“Yes! That- wonder if he type is dangerous…pretend dangerous. I’d give her all the kids she’d ever want- all big…n’ glowing…” It was almost like the setting of the sun, and just as quietly that Sukuna’s dipping past the edge of consciousness. “And…mine…if she wants. Oh, only if she wants- I’ve gotta- hck!” He turns up slightly to you, “-gotta woo her first, you see? Gotta date her…marry…but- but most of all…” Words slowing, heartbeat still racing whenever he looked at you. “I…just want to love you, pretty girl.”

And with that, he was out like a flickered light. 

With only Wasuke, Jin, and Choso with his camera snooping through the doorway as witnesses for when you’re snaking a hand down to the phone bulging in Sukuna’s pocket. Quickly entering a few coordinates and a date. 

And a heart emoji.

.

.

.

“Oh- oh, shit, mama.” Sukuna’s tongue lays over the sheeny insides of your thighs, throat muddled with groans and the cloying taste of your slick gluing to his rovering mouth.

Honestly, fuck whatever tips his family had made him memorize before coming over for his lil’ ‘talk’ at your cozy apartment, as promised. Because the two of you had barely made out two or three words before Sukuna found himself sprawled on his back on your bed. 

Your knees framing his face, your clothed cunt right near his mouth.

Right near where he’s dotting your skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses that make your entire body tremble. Whimpering over your shoulder, “D-didn’t think you’d be such a tease, Kuna.”

“Because this isn’t real.” He’s breathing out, as if he’s just so sure of that fact. As if he can glide his ringed index down the dampened slit of your folds and drool- because this feels like a dream n’ he was going to savor every moment. “Fuck, there’s no way this is-”

And just at that very moment, he’s craning his head up further between your pretty, pretty legs. Greedy tastebuds darted out just so he can catch the treacly splat! of your leaking slit.

Dampening his tongue n’ drooling all down the edge of his tattooed chin, “Do you even know how many times I’ve imagined this exact moment?”

“Mmm- no-” You’re wrenching out a heady puff of air- spread on your front in the meanest sixty-nine. You gulp down your parched throat as you’re taking in the wet, bulging outline of Sukuna’s erection through his boxers. “But I can guess.”

He was just so big, aching- 

Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just rock-hard. He was hard enough that he’s sure his round, bawling tip was damn near ready to fall off, twitching oh-so-painfully in his pants as he’s snapping back your soaked panties with a wet thwack!

Just a glimpse of the wet haven you were hiding and he’s groaning throatily, “Guess-” He hisses, close enough that the straight end of his nose slides down your puffy pussylips. Nudging your panties to the side and sniiiiiffing you, “You’ll never be able to guess how badly I want you, pretty girl.”

Never.

Never would you have even been able to register that within mere split-seconds, he’d have one beefy arm looping around your hips to make you sit on top of his mouth.

Slamming the edge of your cunt against his chin, plopping your full weight down until he’s nose-deep between your quivering legs. “Fuck-” Letting the first gush of your saccharine juices flood his throat, lips against lips. “Fuck fuck fuck- what was I even…saying?”

“W-wait–” Your breath hitches, spine arching into such a perfect curvature. You claw onto his meaty thighs in an attempt to regain balance, “You won’t be able to breathe like this, Sukuna-”

“You think I fucking care?”

It’s spat - spat - out right against the swollen nub of your clit. Hazed crimson irises rolling to the veeeery deep, dark depths of his skull at the first long gliiiide of Sukuna’s tongue from top to bottom of your pussy. 

Cheeks hollowed the very moment he’s pushin’ himself even closer, “You think I ngh- can care about anything else?” The very moment he’s tugging you back down - with the full force of his upper strength, hard enough that your heated aches with raw, primal bruises. “Be a good girl n’ put that hah- pussy on my face. Fucking- sit-”

“I don’t- fuuuuck—” Fingers twitching, it’s all you can do to fumble with the drawstrings of his wettened boxers. 

Thighs shaking at every flicker of his slimy tongue swirlin’ and stirrin’ every inch of your outer pussy. Your head muddles with the realization that Sukuna’s tongue was just so long that he could lap at your glisten hole n’ still have enough length left over to snag on your clit. “You’re not going to be the only hah- one-”

Whimpering, you find your eyes blurring up each time the ridged texture of his tastebuds glissade between your folds. Curlin’ in just past the elastic circle of your entrance-

And you’re gasping - but you don’t know whether it’s because of the lecherous intrusion or because of the way you’re pushing down Sukuna’s snug underwear to free his massive cock.

Reddened, swollen.

He’s bulging all solid and girthy that it makes your hole clench ‘round his flexible tongue. The cutest ruby-red at the top of his shaft, forming a gradient all the way down to his tight, heavy balls. Mentally, you’re counting about nine- fuck, maybe even ten damn inches that hit the end of your chin as he springs up. 

And from where you’re straddling him, you can make out what looked like a matching thick, black band of ink around his bulky hilt. 

Letting the polished pink crown of his cockhead smear out a generous dollop of pre, you’re teasing your tongue out just enough to taste the salted caramel taste. 

“You’re so…” Sinking him past your spit-slicked lips, his swabbing mushroom tip is just so big that your jaw aches just by looking at him. Just by fitting him inside, right until his drivelling slit- “-s-sho big, Sukuna.”

“Fuck- fuck-” He’s spitting into your cunt and you find yourself flinching, hard enough that his pearly white canines nip at your thighs and you cry out.

And he’s only holding you back - not letting you shift your restless hips even a single centimeter as he’s eating you out like a man dying of thirst. Dry tastebuds lavishing himself with wads of slick, Sukuna’s stuffing your tight hole with the entirety of his tongue. “You’re m-making me drool.”

You swear you’re feeling the thin line of his wet spittle stain the front of your cunt, whimpering around his bulbous cockhead. “Made ya stutter, too, Sukuna.”

“Ohhhh- talkin’ smart, are we?” Snickering, he lets off a loud spank against the front of your pussy - one that makes your bones reverberate, and your mind numb. Pushin’ back to ride the circling girth of his tongue, to ride him. “Why don’tcha put that mouth into use elsewhere?”

Elsewhere - his cock was so hot and throbbing between your swollen lips. Just the slightest slip n’ slide makes it feel like he’s pulsing all the way at the back of your throat. 

Creamin’ out a spray of syrupy precum that slides down your tongue, “So big- too big.” And yet- it was just so cute how you’re suckling him like your favorite lolly, eyes criss-crossing when you’re trying to take more. He couldn’t even bottom out. “Mmm– dunno if it’ll even all fit.”

“Well…” 

The way he’s drawling out in a smoky tone makes you ponder that this won’t be ending well for you. And Sukuna’s dark chuckle hits your cunt in a murky gust, “You’re takin’ it in from here—” Just at that sultry second, he’s crowning the snug circle of your hole with two fingers. 

Making you break out with a shrill waiiil as he sinks in the thick, calloused curves of his fingerpads. Letting such thick digits stretch you out fully, make your head spin. “So shut it n’ take this looong fucking cock, ma.”

All that it takes for him to plunge a few more throbbing inches past your maw, oh-so-big that you’re drooling down the sides of your mouth already.

Striking the edge of your throat and making you choke on his sheer size, your nose wrinkles as you’re tickled by the curly tendrils of his pinkish hair. “This enough or you want three, pretty girl-”

“I-”

Letting out such a cloying squelch that spurts from your pussy once he’s teasin’ your entrance, “Not you, mama. She wants three.”

Moaning away wildly after each pump of his fingers- Sukuna doesn’t even have to try to dip into each nook n’ orifice. Slamming to fingers down to each knobbly knuckle with a resounding slam- “See? See?” 

So cockdrunk on the feeling of his velvety tongue that you’re only partly registering the way his vocals are higher. Unsteady. 

The way you’re clamping your dewy walls in a cute, squelching smooch ‘round his digits makes his voice fucking crack. “J-just take it a bit- fuck- deeper.” Mindless little half-thrusts up into your heated mouth like he can’t even control it- “You can swallow it up like a reeeeal good girl, can’t you?”

“Mmm—” Purposefully letting off your pretty sounds all over his fleshy girth, “Yes- yes yes yes- more.”

“More?”

“More.”

As if he wouldn’t fucking ruin you if he could. 

“You want more?”

“Y-yes- oh.”

Only to be gifted with such a rude slap of his doughy palm, “Not you.” And he’s waiting for the soppy squelches leaking out from your cunt, the way you’re talking to him from your swollen lips just to continue. 

Squelch after squelch.

Your pleas only spur him to tug at the sweet, softened ring of your cunt, latching his lips over the flexing muscle. “If you say so—” Crooning, you can feel the cold hiss of his metallic rings upon the insides of your thighs. Sukuna’s biceps shifting as he starts to tug them off–

“A-actually-” You’re popping off of the strawberry-pink curve of his cocktip with a plop! a few glittery strings of pre and spit still connecting you lewdly to it. “…Keep them on?”

“Oh. Ohoho- you naughty lil’ thing.” He’s swatting over the slope of your dripping wet pussy n’ giving your clit a good pinch with his ringed fingers. “You like it like this- like- this-?”

He’s spitting out each word into your cunt, thrusting the barrelling tips of his fingerpads to graze just below your pulsating g-spot. “All those mouthy lectures?” In vulgar tandem strokes with the thwack! of his heavy, curvaceous balls slapping your chin. “And you wanna take it like- this- mama? Ohhh, it just makes me wanna…”

Trailing off, Sukuna’s body is just bulky - oh-so-tall that he can bend and reach down to cup your throat with his one free hand. 

Digging five of his fingertips into the side of your throat as he’s holding your neck and squeezing- feeling the cylindrical outline of his cock bulging your poor mouth. Up n’ down, up n’ down- he’s feeling for the precise moments his plump cockhead lodges at the back of your throat. 

“Who’d have known the cute lil’ teacher would be such a slut f’me. Cat got yer tongue, girl, orrrr—s’it just my dick?” Humming over your clit, he’s adding a fourth finger that swabs at the texture of your gummy walls. 

“F-fuck off- ngh-”

“Wha’s that? Try- try and say my name?” Squeezing. Only feeling your ripped, pathetic vibrations. “Can f-feel myself over here.”

With four neatly pushing fingers. 

Pulling back with a sluuurp–! Slowly, just so that you whimper that the knobs of his joints, just so that he can thump right on the target of your g-spot and make you cry out in cute bliss. “So s’only fair that I’m over here, pretty girl.”

“Yes- yes yes yes—” Words bubble out and slur out of your maw, in unison with such sloshing spurts of saliva. 

You’re drooling everywhere - from both pairs of lips. Your mouth over Sukuna’s hard, vein-covered erection, glazing his puffy lines of veins with sap. And your pussy slide-slide-sliiiiding down the gaping area of his mouth, wide open and eagerly lapping up each sloppy drag of your hips.

Faster.  

And now that Sukuna had actually found your most favorite spot, he couldn’t fucking stop.

Not when each whack at that same exact spot makes you splash your sweetened slick all down his throat, not when you were clenching your walls and cryin’ out at the frigid brush of his thick rings.

Again and again, he’s probin’ his crowned fingertips to push against the insides of your pussy, “Don’t think m’gonna last ngh-”

 “Yeah-” And that’s not to say his tongue was letting you off easy, either- simply aching with the feverish state of his movements. But it hurt Sukuna more any moment he wasn’t snogging your glossy cunt, n’ so he’s slapping your clit with a wet one-two. Spank after spank to make your hips jerk back and forth, “Whaddaya want? To cum? S’that it?”

Blubbering over the taste of his slick, sensitive slit, “Yes- yes, please- m’so fucking close.”

“Not. You.” Each word ended with two swats on your simmering pussy, you’re webbing his chin all down with syrupy sap. 

Moving off from your throat with a final squeeze, a bicep tightening ‘round your hips to squeeze you in place. “Not you- but you, pretty girl.” Slickly gliding back and forth all over your pried-open cunt, all over the quivering rim of your hole. Everywhere and anywhere. “Why don’tcha talk louder?”

And it’s not just you riding his tongue dry - it’s Sukuna bucking animalistically upwards, too. Pressing the ridges of his washboard abs up against your front, you’re just fountaining out so much sappy slick that it’s running down to the large mouth that he had tattooed across his stomach. As if both his ravenous mouths were gulping up each of your slick puddles. 

Crooning at the oversaturated squelch that spills out of you- he’s nodding like he’s never heard a sweeter sentence. Nudging his knuckles to bump against your g-spot, “If you say so—”

You don’t get to find out what he’s hearing - but you’re registering the gist soon enough.

Because by then Sukuna has his ringed index swiping your g-spot, coldly massaging that bundle of nerves. Hard. Sloppy. At the very same second he’s settling the fringes of his canines on your perky clit and streeeetching-

“O-oh my god I’m—” Keening out a whimper, your high runs you over like a rollercoaster. And you’re rocking your boneless body to and fro just as much, thumping your thighs into Sukuna’s sharp jawline. 

“Yes-” Clenching around his motions so hard that he has to fight to unstick his digits from the sides of your bubblegum walls, still fucking you through your lecherous high. “Oh, hell yeah, been so good for you, mama- why don’tcha reward me? Use me- hck- use me.”

As if you weren’t thrusting your cunt back into his face in a frenzy already, he’s using the arm holding onto your waist to keep you repeatedly moving. 

Tired-out. Fingers tugging into each crevice of your velvety walls. Cheeks aching and hollow where he’s putting such force on your throbbing clit to suck- “Ride my- mmmf-” Talking with his mouth full, “Ride my fuckin’ face raw- wanted to taste y’cumming on my tongue for so long.”

With your spine arched, you’re pulling off of the bulged tip of his cock just as he’s spewing out a slimy ribbon of ivory white. Just a single drivel of cum- just from the way you’re cumming. 

“God- god fucking dammit.” Sukuna spits, right into your cunt. And he barely even takes his eyes off of your slobbering pussy to snake a free hand down and plug his geysering orifice with his thumb.

Stopping himself promptly from cumming if it isn’t anywhere near your pussy.

But that didn’t mean he was letting you get away.

Oh, no- he’s still pulling you back with inclines of his head like a man addicted. Thoroughly drunk on the heady globs of slick that travelled between your legs, pushing and pushing himself upwards to glue his glossed lips all over your cunt.

You can feel yourself squealing with each lap of his scratchy tongue- the primal overstimulation too much that great droplets of tears take over your eyes. 

“O-oh– fuck- m’so sensitive, Sukuna.” You’re arching your back away- “I don’t know if I- oh!” Only to get pulled back down. Toes curling when this only spurs him to dive himself even deeper, flopping out the flexible end of his tongue to try n’ flit past your squeezing hole. 

Drawling, “Remember those fuckin’ sugar cookies? You taste- hah- even fucking better.”

Sniffling, your spine zings with a few more zaps of electricity as he’s starting to caress your sweetened g-spot once more. 

And the only thing you can do is try and pathetically pry his firmly-planted palm from his lengthy shaft, trying for the life of you to just get another taste-

“Oh. Oh.” Sukuna gasps from behind, pink brows raising. “I see what you’re doing, pretty girl. H-heh…hungry for more, are you?”

He didn’t need any further answer - because the way you’re cutely clenching to glaze his scouring digits tells him more than enough.

And before you know it, you’re finding yourself pulled off of his long, aching cock like some glorified ragdoll. Sukuna was just so large - in every sense of the word - that he could manhandle you with only one arm. 

Clinging onto the side of your waist as he’s sitting up, he makes you straddle the twitchy length of his cock. And now that you were seated upon his lap- oh, could you admire him.

Ryomen Sukuna was a fucking masterpiece. 

From the bands of tattoos circling his biceps, his wrists, straight down to the plush of his sculptured thighs. “Like what you see?” He tilts his head cockily down at you, slouching sexily back on your wooden headboard to let you take in all of his tensed core. 

Glistening pecs all temptingly large, abs ripped. 

“M’gonna get those pretty haaah- fucking initials of yours tatted.” He’s tapping the prominent side of his left v-line with a polished finger, “Right here.”

Climbing further upon his lap, you rest your ass cheeks back against his swaying cock, bobbing so hard n’ proud between your sheeny thighs. Pouting, “Only if you fuck me, Kuna— ngh-”

“Kuna? Tch- you see that lil’ tattoo here, mama?” He sounded as if he was shattering, and he’s leaning back so that you can take a goood, long look at the circular tattoo on his base. Nuzzled by the tufts of his pinkish happy trail, and his tender underside - but it was still there.

Like a target. And Sukuna’s thinking the exact same thing, “You’re gonna take it riiiight- till- here-” Lodging the swollen end of his shaft to plug your hole, it’s such a tiiight fit as he starts bullying inside. “Until- hah-” Feeling a hand down your tummy, your womb. “-here.”

He was going to fit himself until your pretty pussy won’t be able to forget him.

And it takes only seconds for you to be clawing onto his tattooed deltoids for dear life, feeling the inner parts of your thighs slip n’ slide down his own with perspiration. You scramble with the stringy, slightly-torn fabric of your panties still on- “Kuna- Su–Kuna, this-”

“Nah, let it stay.” Snickering, he claws onto the top of your scalp. “You have much…heh- bigger ngh- problems ta worry about, pretty girl.”

Bigger - his prolonged shaft was simply ravaging your walls. Plumply ballooned-up enough that his veiny layer rubs your sweetest spots without even meaning to, and you’re just seeing stars with every inch deeper his mazing cock spears through. “Fuck- fuck, it really is big-”

“Mhm– and you’re going- to take- it all.” Times like this he’s wishing he had just about four fucking hands. Because one’s pushing down, down, down on the lolling top of your head, the other’s pushin’ your trembling thighs apart just so you could straddle his meaty hips. “All hah- say my name. Say my name while you take it-”

And he always did love the way you said his name.

The way you’re letting free a few bubbly spurts of saliva as you’re babbling away–”Sukuna- Su-” Throat clogging up with so many sobs of utter bliss, “Kuna—”

“Again with the ‘Kuna’- s’not my name, silly girl.” Even though each sound of that slurring nickname makes him twitch against your deepest insides. 

But you can’t even hear him properly, eardrums distantly popped until the only thing you can feel is the thump! of your heartbeat between your legs. And the way that his reddened, slick-glazed tip was thrashing your tight insides, “Kuna- ngh, please, Kuna. Wan’ it a-all hck! Inside.”

The swabbing girth of his cock was so fat that he has you stupid with just his size, biceps bulging as he’s pressurizing down on your head. “God-” And you can only blink pathetically once he’s bringing up his free hand to your blurry line of sight. Hissing, “Bite down-” Lips smirking as you plant a kittenish bite, he fucks up into you once to make your force increase. “Bite down harder and take it.”

He wasn’t wasting any time - he didn’t have the fucking patience.

He barely even had the sanity to tease you and edge you for hours on end like he’d always wanted to. Instead fucking up into you like a damn animal- he’s swatting your cunt with the edge of his throbbing cock. Spitting through clenched teeth, “O-oh, if yer gonna ask for all of it then m’not playin’ around, ma.”

You sink your teeth in and nearly scream into the flesh of his forearm, gnawing down right at his tattoo. “Mmmpf- big- nghh–” Unable to fucking take it, the only thing you can do is arch your hips deeper and let his pummeling rams spike your poor insides.

Hitting the very back of your cervix with a wet thwack! that makes your eyes damn near bulge out of your head.

He…bottomed-out. 

“Lemme check now…” Taking a single peek at the way his hilt was all covered up by your bloated folds until he couldn’t see that tattoo anymore. “S’all in.”

And the towering man wasn’t celebrating once he did - he was pumping all his fleshy inches into you like he’d gone feral. 

Eyes dazed and hooded, mouth frothing with a line of silver drool - Sukuna grunts after each singular gliiiide of his watery orifice drawing down the bottom of your pussy. Sloppy. “F-fucking hell, never felt like this- what the…”

“Are you okay- oh god nghh–”

“M’fuckin’ more than okay.” Spitting out crassly, Sukuna swerves his hips off of the rickety bedsprings to drag his cock harder down your cunt. And it just felt so delicious to have his swollen veins stir up your walls, “S’just— who let you feel this good?”

Your honeyed cunt has made him way too pussydrunk that now he’s tattling out everything from his melty mind. And you can only whine– “Heh-” One hand grazing his scorched ear, “You’re blushing, Kuna- better not be ngh- tapping out on me.”

“Tapping out?” Punctuated by a hard spank against the door to your womb - exactly where he said he would be - and then a harder one against your mapped-out g-spot. “Me? Me tappin’ out?”

Blinking through the splotchy whites sparking in your vision, “Y-yeah- fuck!”

SPANK!

Oh-so-hard, he’s swatting your pussy with enough stinging force that it makes glittering drops of slick splash across his slamming palm. “You n’ this smartass pussy are gonna see.” He’s gritting through dangerously grinning teeth, “There’s a fuckin’ reason I’m Ryomen fucking Sukuna.”

Because he’s rude - and he fucks even ruder.

Pounding away upwards into you like he doesn’t care if he’s bruising great purple bruises at the bottom of your cervix. The mattress creaks in fervent protest after each gyration of his hips, “P-please-” The only thing you’re mewling out like a broken record, “I-it just feels so…”

Trailing off, your movements are sluggish as your hand starts to slither down between your rutting legs. Yearning to just touch your neglected clit-

SPANK!

“Oi- and who’d ya think you are to touch- hngh- my pretty girl?” He’s grinning, manhandling you in an instant. Before your candied brain can catch up, Sukuna has both your arms pinned behind your back, chin hitting his cushy pecs. “I’ll touch her when I feel like it-”

Such a fucking tease, at the constant timing of his slimy mushroom tip spearing your cunt like a headlight- Sukuna lifts off one of his hands downwards.

Replacing your own with his roughened fingers, he pinches your poor clit—“Sh-shit m’so sensitive there- keep going, Kuna–”

And at this point you weren’t just drooling you were sheening the entirety of his smooth pectorals with a shiny polish. Letting it smear down the side of your cheek as you drunkenly lean on them like pillows, “Chehhh-” He’s spitting out, staring down at the glistening glaze dripping down to his bumpy abs. “Tha’s supposed to stay inside, pretty girl.” 

“I-inside?” Dazedly, the only thing you can think of were your rummaging insides, the way that Sukuna was fucking you like he hated you.

But it was the complete opposite. And he’s draggin’ on your clit, giggling to himself like he’s in love as he watches you huff n’ puff. “God you love it like this- c’mon, ngh- teach, milk this fucking cock- why don’t ya?”

“I-I am-”

SPANK! 

“Harder, mama, make me feel it.”

With a right spank to emphasize his sentence, he’s jostling his hips upwards so you’re left throwing your head back at the full, stretching impact. Unable to even handle the slightly spring recoil that comes with striking your cervix, he’s bouncing you on his pelvis. 

“S’this what you thought about every- hah- time you saw me?” Taking hold of your neck for a brief moment, he’s spitting doooown your throat. “Wantin’ me to fuck this- ngh- pussy raw?”

And the locked restraint on your neck helps bend you into the perfect geometrical curvature to stare up at him as he collapses forwards. Hot breath wafting your features, you whimper- “Y-yes.”

“Not you.”

“Kuna.”

“I’ve been dreamin’ of this for aaages now-” His clammy forehead crinkles as he’s scratching down your clit with the rough texture of his happy trail. Leaving it all stinging n’ raw to make sure the impact is extra sensual as Sukuna rubs over a slooow ‘K’ right on top. 

Rutting into your poor cunt so hard that the skin surrounding his v-line was all reddened- and he can’t help but take one look and moan. “M’getting that tattooed.” Watching as his mean, curvaceous cock molded your walls constantly to him. “Oh- trust when I say-”

And then a ‘U’

“Fuh-fuuuuck, please-” It almost feels like you’re begging for your damn life by now, lungs ripping with moans every time he’s thumping up. You ride your hips in a sexy figure-eight and feel the way Sukuna’s thumb trembles on your clit. 

A wobbly ‘N’

And you already knew what was headed next- oh, you were already prepared. 

But what you weren’t ready for was the completely vicious way that he’s accelerating his papping hips, so fast that the dark tattoo nuzzling your entrance was almost a blur. Thump after thump- 

You’re falling over until that symbolic inking of a widely-opened maw on his stomach licks up your core. Body twitching with white hot flashes of something electric running through your veins, “F-fuck- fuck, s’not gonna last-”

“S’that soooo—?” Sukuna asks down at your pussy to confirm, and only after a few ‘uh-huh’’s does he bore into your stupidly heart-shaped eyes. Tongue lolling straight out for him to lap up into his own mouth, “She says you’re close-”

A firm ‘A’

Another SPANK!

“-and I say you’re cumming already.”

“Wh-what…”

He’s ending off with a perfect heart shape rolled over your clit. What’s that spell- he’s asking mentally. 

Only for you to mewl wantonly as if you’d just heard. “Kuna- Sukuna- Yes- yes m’cumming m’cumming—” 

It’s like you’re enveloped in a tidal wave - you didn’t know where your orgasm started and where it ended. Just that Sukuna’s moans break into something octaves higher as he fucks you through your bliss.

You claw down the expanse of his flexing back with each burst of pre splattering your gooey insides. Toes curled, eyes all teary. “I-it’s so- hck! Feels too good…”

Turning you into absolute mush every time he pumps his thorough inches into you- and the mean fingers on your nub just tug n’ tug.

And it’s only after a few more of your shrilling whines that you’re still feeling the hot entrance of his shaft plummeting through, your walls squeezing ‘round his flared tip. “I want you to cum, too, Sukuna.”

“F-fuck.” He lets out, softly.

Cupping his attractive face, if you thought you were gone then you weren’t ready for the way that Sukuna looked. Cheeks burning hot and red, mouth parted with overspilling drool, brows furrowed into such an expression that it almost makes you feel shy.

Repeating those very same words, you start sloppily swervin’ your hips straight to his. “Cum inside m- ngh, please?”

All this time and his cute lil’ teacher was still minding her p’s and q’s. 

So, of course, when you’re asking him that nicely- it’s the least he could do to listen. To let out a final, vulgar stroke that has him spilling over the edge.

In great, piling heaps of ivory cum that puddles at the bottom of your pussy. There’s so much of it that your ears ring with the lecherous sluuurp–! as your cunt walls suck up every last steaming drop. 

You can feel it trailing down the insides of your thighs like a waterfall and keen, “Just like that, f-fuck…” Almost like you’re hypnotized, you drag one of his much-larger hands to palm the outside of your tummy. “Can feel it all the way here.”

“O-oh my god…” He’s groaning, eyes drifting off to the back of his head as soon as you’re meeting his tempo. Slamming down to rob his aching balls, milking him all dry - you were overspilling and it still wasn’t enough. “Y’really are a dream.” 

And there’s something about the way he’s sluggishly brushing away a stray bead of perspiration from your temple. Something about that lazy, half-lidded look in his eyes, the complete n’ utter reverence in his tone as he asks- “So…s’your type ‘dangerous’, mama?”

Almost…shy.

Oh, it hits you. He’s pussydrunk.

You’d made big, bad Ryomen Sukuna completely and utterly pussydrunk.

To the point where his studded ears flare a deep crimson once you giggle, “Mmm- pretend dangerous, Kuna.” His eyes shine. You think back to that night at the Itadori household, “And I also remember something about quadruplets?” 

It’s then that Sukuna whimpers. 

Not even pulling out. Not even considering such an impossible feat for even a split-second before he rolls your weakened body over.

Hovering over you now, it’s so easy for his beefy arms to tug your legs over his shoulders. Still shaking. Still suffering from the aftermath of your orgasm as he’s holding them tight and bending down, down, dooooown.

Straight into a mating press. 

Oh, your breath catches.

“Before I pound you until you can’t haaah- walk, mama-” Uncharacteristically, Sukuna gulps as he shifts his crimson eyes away from you. “-m’I giving you quadruplets that’ll have my last name?”

Now that was a round-about way to ask someone out- and he knows it, too. 

But it only makes you shuffle up onto your elbows on the now-ruined sheets, sticking to you like glue. You place a lingering peck on Sukuna’s wobbly, overstimulated lips, “Mm- I love you, too, Kuna.”

Oh, how he loves you. He almost cums right then and there. 

Fuck.

He does. 

.

.

.

“You.”

“You.” Yuji narrows his eyes down at the sight of Ryomen Sukuna towering over the busy preschool pick-up. Trying to look over his broad shoulders for any sign of his father, “Huh? But dadda said he was coming to pick me up today?”

Sukuna gingerly scratches the back of his head, “Yeah, well…listen, twerp- I mean, kid. There’s something I need to-”

Only to be cut off by a dramatic gasp—“Oh no- Did dadda go to jail just like you-”

“No,”

“Did he drive fast-”

“No.”

“Did he drink-”

“No-”

“Did he slash tires-”

“Maybe once?”

And fuck- he really didn’t understand tiny children, because explain to him why the pink-haired boy starts bawling in his arms. Pitiful enough to draw the glares of parents wrenching their own children away from the perpetrator, loud enough to draw the sweet concern of you.

Walking from your station saying goodbye to one other student, “Yuji what- oh!” You’re pressing your lips together to contain your smile as you happen to see who was throwing Yuji on his shoulders to soothe him. Bouncing him lightly until he smiled- and you did, too. “I didn’t expect you so early today, Kuna.”

“Yeah, well.” He’s using Yuji’s palms to cover the pinkish ends of his blushing ears, “Decided I wanted to see ya off from work today.”

Now past grief and straight into utter nosiness- “Wait- what do you mean ‘see off’.” He gasps, “Is she going to ja-”

“Brat-”

“What your uncle means to say, Yuji-” Playfully pinching his chubby cheeks, you try to ignore the gawking stares of every other one of your remaining students as you promptly turn to face Sukuna. Giving him a sweet, sweet peck on his. “-is that you’ll be seeing a lot more of me around.”

Another gasp - well, multiple.

One from Itadori Yuji, who gapes, open-mouthed between you and his uncle - as if wondering how he ever managed to bag you, and wait does that mean you’re his auntie now?

About twenty from your crowd of students, right along with a few whispers. 

“Hey, isn’t that weird Mr. Mugshot?”

“So that’s why Mr. Mugshot was always red- eugh! In my momma’s dramas they don’t get together, they just die.”

Fushiguro frowns, “I would rather die than watch him like this. Gross.”

“Caviar.”

Walking up from the group, Fushiguro tugs on your skirt. Innocently - but Sukuna could feel the evil intent. He just knew that boy was a villain. “Inumaki asks whether you mind that he sets fires, miss.”

What the fuck is with the fires-

And then finally - three distinct, unfortunately familiar gasps that make Sukuna dread turning around. Struggling against it, even as his nephew tugs on his locks of pink hair with a delighted squeal- “Dadda–! Bubba–! Gramps-”

You smile, watching Choso take flustered pictures of his uncle. “How the hell did you even win her over? All of these are going in the blackmail folder. Maybe your wedding presentation too.”

Sukuna bites back a shy blush- turning it into a scowl, “Maybe…”

“Well, I’ll be.” Wasuke nods his head in approval, “All thanks to the ah- ‘wingmanning’ as the kids say. I’ll be expecting at least three grandchildren in the future, sonny. And when I say ‘future’ I mean in nine months-”

“Dad! It’s too early for that.” Jin, ever-the-voice-of-reason, gives you a breezy handshake. “Congratulations- by the way.” And it’s all soft. It’s all sweet- that is, until you’re trying to pull your hand back and he only tightens his grip. Smile still tightly in place, “I will be the kids’ godfather, by the way.”

Settling an arm around you now, You and Sukuna don’t know whether to laugh or stand in shocked silence as Jin finally sets you free - but you don’t have to make the choice.

Because the annoying, grating voice of Todo Aoi breaks through—“Noooooo– my bride!” 

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

Plagiarism not authorized.

[pittsick]

WHAT HE KNOWS.

summary: Spencer wouldn’t go as far as saying he was inexperienced. He’d had sex before. But to say he knew what he liked? To say he was confident in bed? That would be a lie. What he knew, though, was that he liked when you rode him.

pairing: spencer reid x afab!girlfriend.

cw: +18. mdni. 2.8k words. submissive Spencer. soft teasing. nipple play (reader receiving). soft dirty-talk. cowgirl position. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. gentle sex. praise.

taglist: @blastzachilles, @lvve-talks, @jordiemeow, @222col, @soulxinxthexsky, @diyasgarden, @jinxedbambi, @lexiiscorect, @religionlost, @bluestrd, @jclolz22, @museboos, @imperishablereverie, @lovefaist, @shahabaqsa0310, @prismozo, @jesuistrestriste, @grimsonandclover, @nozhdyved, @yardofbrunettes, @hangels, @sweetheartfaist, @lacelottie

Spencer wouldn’t go as far as saying he was inexperienced. He’d had sex before. Technically. There’d been a handful of times scattered across his twenties—some sweet, some awkward, none particularly bad. But to say he knew what he liked? To say he was confident in bed?

That would be a lie.

But there was one thing—one constant in the scattered, breathless memories that clung to him like cotton stuck to damp skin. One moment that came back to him when his mind wandered in the quietest hours of the night:

It was you. Above him. Hands pressed to his chest, hair falling forward, your hips rolling slow and steady. Spencer remembered the way his fingers trembled against your thighs, the way you cooed his name like a secret no one else could know. The pressure. The control. The softness of your lips as they brushed his cheek and whispered, “Doing so good for me, baby.”

That’s what he knew.

That when you rode him, when he gave everything over to you—he came undone in the most beautiful way.

He wasn’t sure how to ask for it tonight. You were curled up with him on the couch, reading something old and worn. His hand rested over your thigh, tracing slow circles with his thumb, barely skimming under the hem of your sleep shorts. Your skin was warm beneath his touch, smooth and soft, and he swore he could feel your pulse when his fingers stilled just shy of your inner thigh.

“Spence,” you murmured, glancing down at him from over your book, “you’re being awfully quiet.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Mmm. Dangerous,” you teased, brushing your fingers into his curls. He leaned into it instantly, like a plant craving sunlight. “Thinking about anything in particular?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “You.”

You smiled, slow and knowing, setting your book aside. “Yeah?” He swallowed thickly and shifted to face you more fully, thumb still grazing your leg. “There’s something I like. A lot. When we… y’know.”

“You’re gonna have to use your words, sweetheart.” You teased, leaning in, brushing your nose against his jaw. “C’mon. Tell me.”

His ears were flushed red now. You felt the heat radiating off him, the way his breath hitched when you kissed just below his ear. But he answered. Carefully. Quietly.

“When you’re on top. Riding me.”

Your hand froze against his chest. You leaned back just enough to meet his gaze. “Yeah?”

Spencer nodded again, and this time his hand tightened around your thigh. “You… You take your time with me. You know how to make it last. I like that.”

You felt the shift in the air between you—slow-burning tension simmering just below the surface. You swung one leg over his lap until you were straddling him, soft cotton of your sleep shorts brushing against his sweats. He was already half-hard beneath you, and he gasped the moment you rocked forward.

“You could’ve just said you wanted me to ride you, baby.”

“I didn’t wanna be—forward,” he breathed, hands trembling where they settled on your waist.

“You’re allowed to ask for what you want,” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth, “especially when you’re this sweet about it.”

You tilted your hips again, and Spencer whimpered. It was high, involuntary—like the sound had surprised him. You swallowed it with a kiss, lips melting over his until his hands fisted in the back of your shirt.

He always kissed like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. It was soft, deep, a little messy—like he’d never learned to pace himself when it came to your mouth. You could feel his hips twitching beneath you, his need pulsing through the thin layer of clothing between you.

“Let’s get this off,” you murmured against his lips, tugging at his tee.

He lifted his arms wordlessly and let you strip it away. Pale skin flushed pink, chest rising and falling with uneven breath. His hands rested against your thighs like he didn’t know what to do with them—like he was afraid to touch you too much, or not enough.

You smiled, then reached down to pull your own shirt off. His eyes widened when he saw you were bare underneath—no bra, nothing at all. Spencer stared for a beat too long, lips parting like he’d never seen you topless before, even though he had. Countless times.

But something about tonight felt different. Slower. More reverent.

You took one of his hands and brought it to your breast, letting him feel the way your nipple stiffened beneath his palm. He gasped again, and the sound made you clench. “Y-you’re so warm,” he whispered, thumb grazing your skin. “And soft. I… I always forget how soft.”

You leaned into his touch, arching just slightly. “You can touch me. Don’t be shy.”

“I’m not— I mean, I am,” he admitted, cheeks still flushed. “You just make me nervous sometimes. In a good way.”

That made your chest ache. “You don’t have to be nervous, baby. I love the way you touch me. Especially when you let go.” He nodded, still fidgeting, still flustered. You kissed the corner of his mouth again and reached down between you to tug at the waistband of his sweats.

“Want me to keep going?”

“Yes. Please.” His voice cracked.

You eased his sweats and briefs down enough to free his cock—already flushed and leaking at the tip. His hips bucked at the cool air, and you wrapped your hand gently around him, thumbing over the sensitive head until he was whining under his breath.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “Feels so good when you touch me.”

“You always say the nicest things,” you teased, leaning forward to kiss down his throat, over his collarbone, while your other hand slid under your shorts and panties, pushing them down your legs, letting them hang down your calves. You were soaked—slick and ready and aching for him like you had been thinking about riding him too.

When you lined him up with your entrance and sank down, slow and steady, Spencer choked on a gasp and held your hips like his life depended on it.

“Holy shit— You feel—” His head tipped back. “So tight, so warm, I—God—”

You braced your hands on his chest and rocked gently once you were fully seated. It was slow. Deep. The kind of rhythm that built from the inside out, made his whole body tense under yours. “That’s it, baby,” you whispered, hips rolling, your voice sweet and breathy. “You like this?”

He nodded furiously. “Yes—yes—don’t stop, please—”

You moved slowly. Intentionally. Rocking your hips in a deep, lazy grind while Spencer clung to your waist like he was scared you might disappear if he let go. His eyes fluttered open just enough to watch you—watch the way your face twisted in pleasure, the way your chest heaved with each motion, nipples pebbled in the low light of your bedroom.

“Y-you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice thick with awe. “When you’re like this. When you’re on me.”

You cupped his face with one hand, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. “You like watching?” His lips parted, but the only sound that came out was a whimper.

“Tell me, baby. Use your words.”

“I l-love it,” he choked. “I love how you ride me. You feel so good. I don’t— I don’t want it to stop.”

“You don’t have to worry,” you murmured, circling your hips just so. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not done yet.” He groaned, the kind of sound that came from somewhere low in his chest, desperate and strangled. You could feel how close he was already—how every little shift of your body made his cock twitch inside you.

But you weren’t rushing. Not tonight. Not when he’d asked so sweetly, so shyly, for something that made him feel this good.

“You wanna help me take this off?” you asked softly, guiding his hands up your sides and down your thighs, toward the hem of your sleep shorts still bunched around your legs.

He nodded and helped you tug them down gently, before throwing them out of the way. Your thighs spread wider now, letting you sink down further on his cock, and he swore under his breath when your hips met his again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—so deep,” he gasped, his hands coming up to cup your breasts now. “Can I touch here too?”

“Of course, baby, go on,” you breathed, leaning forward just enough for him to mouth at one of your nipples.

He was slow with it. Shy. His tongue flicked experimentally across the stiff peak, and your breath caught in your throat. Then he did it again. And again. “Just like that,” you praised, threading your fingers into his curls. “You’re doing so good, Spencer.”

He moaned against your chest, lips wrapping around your nipple now, sucking just gently enough to make your back arch. Your rhythm faltered for a moment, hips stuttering, thighs shaking.

“Oh—fuck,” you gasped. “Baby, that feels so good.”

“I like making you feel good,” he said, moving to your other nipple now. “You always take care of me. I wanna do that for you too.”

“You are, sweetheart,” you whispered, kissing his temple. “You always do.”

You started moving again, this time a little more deliberately—grinding down in slow, wet circles that made him whimper into your skin. You could feel how close he was already, his hips twitching up helplessly, breath ragged.

“Don’t hold back,” you told him, voice low and steady. “Let me see everything. Let me hear you.” Spencer’s eyes met yours again; glassy, wide, overwhelmed. “I’m—gonna come—I can’t—”

You slowed your hips instantly, hovering at the base of his cock, squeezing around him just enough to make him shudder.

“Breathe,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss him slow. “Not yet. I want you to last for me.” He nodded frantically, trying to hold himself still beneath you, cock twitching inside you with every breath.

“Can I—” He swallowed. “Can I make you come more than once?”

“God, yes,” you breathed. “You can make me come as many times as my body can handle.” He whimpered, nearly sobbed. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

You smiled against his mouth. “Yeah? You wanna be good and let me ruin myself on you a little?”

“Yes. Please. Please—”

You rolled your hips again, slow and steady, tightening around him just to watch him fall apart. “You’re so sweet when you beg, baby,” you murmured, voice going soft. “Look at you—so flushed, so needy. I’ve barely even started.”

“I c-can’t take it,” he moaned, grabbing at your waist. “You’re gonna make me—fuck—”

You rocked down hard once, just enough to press your clit flush to his pelvis. The friction had you gasping too, body jolting from the jolt of it. You chased that again, this time slower, dragging your clit against him while his cock filled you perfectly.

“I wanna feel you come first,” he whispered, voice high and desperate. “Wanna feel you shaking on me.”

“You’re gonna,” you promised, breathing heavier now. “You feel so good, Spencer. So deep. I’m already close.” You took one of his hands and guided it to your chest again, pressing his palm flat over your breast. “Keep touching me here. Nice and soft.”

He obeyed instantly, thumb grazing over your nipple again while you rode him—deliberate, focused, slow grinding that had both of you unraveling by the second.

When your orgasm hit, it was warm and slow-spreading—like honey flooding your chest, heat blooming from your core. You gasped his name, hips rolling through it, thighs shaking as you pulsed around his cock. Spencer was a mess underneath you. His mouth open, chest heaving, face twisted in awe and disbelief as he felt your pussy clench around him over and over again.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I could die like this.”

You smiled through your orgasm, cupping his face again. “You’re not going anywhere.”

You didn’t get off him right away.

Even after your orgasm crested and ebbed, even after your thighs twitched from the aftershocks, you stayed seated on his cock—still pulsing around him, still impossibly wet. Spencer was gasping beneath you. Eyes dazed, mouth parted, cheeks burning. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself—only that he wanted to give you everything.

“You okay?” you whispered, brushing the hair from his damp forehead.

He nodded shakily. “Y-yeah. More than okay.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, then the other, just slow enough to make his eyes flutter. “You’re still so hard inside me, baby.”

“I— I can’t help it,” he admitted, voice breaking. “You feel too good. It’s like—my body doesn’t want to stop.”

A quiet laugh slipped from you. “That’s exactly what I want.”

You rolled your hips again, gentle but full, grinding down with purpose. Spencer whimpered, fists tightening in the couch beside him. “I’m sensitive,” he said, as if you hadn’t already guessed. “But I want it. I want to feel everything.”

“I’ll take care of you,” you promised, voice soft, firm. “Just breathe for me, yeah?”

You leaned back enough to sit upright on him again, letting gravity do the work—his cock hitting that deep spot that made your breath hitch. He was pulsing inside you, twitching with every movement. Your own body was still greedy, slick and hot and aching for more.

You started riding him again—slow, deliberate, dragging your clit against him with every grind. You were chasing that second orgasm, but you were chasing his even more.

Spencer was completely undone beneath you. “F-fuck, please,” he stammered. “It’s so much—I feel everything—”

“Shh,” you cooed, grinding just a little harder. “Let it happen. Let me make you feel good.”

“You’re gonna make me come,” he gasped, voice raw. “I— I can’t stop it—”

“I don’t want you to,” you whispered. “I wanna feel you come inside me, Spencer. I wanna feel how good you feel when you let go.” His whole body shuddered beneath you, and then he was moaning; loud, shameless, desperate, as his hips jerked up into you.

“Fucking hell—yes—”

You could feel the warmth of it as he came, thick and deep inside you, cock throbbing hard as he filled you. He trembled through it, chest rising in panicked little bursts, hands grabbing at your hips like he needed to hold on to something real.

You didn’t stop moving.

Not quite yet.

Even as he came, even as he whimpered your name in a choked voice, you rocked gently on him—slow and teasing, coaxing every last pulse out of him. “Too much,” he breathed, dizzy. “Too much, it’s— God, you’re gonna kill me.”

“You said you wanted to feel everything,” you teased, your own breath hitching again. “You can take it. You’re doing so good.”

He moaned weakly, nearly slurred. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

You cupped his face again, leaned in to kiss him sweet and slow. “You can. You do. I love you like this.”

He whimpered, lifting his hips weakly into yours. “I want you to come again.”

“I will,” you promised, riding him slowly, deeper, already feeling that telltale pull tightening again. “You’re gonna make me come just like this. With your cock still buried inside me, all wet and soft and leaking—”

Spencer whined.

You reached between your legs and started circling your clit, using his body and your own rhythm to chase your second high. Spencer’s hands ghosted over your thighs, trying to help, trying to touch, even though he was wrecked. His eyes never left your face—watching, hungry, reverent.

“Come for me again,” he begged. “Please. I wanna feel you squeeze me.”

That did it.

Your body shook as the second orgasm rushed through you—harsher this time, quicker, your hips faltering as you rode it out. You were gasping his name over and over, hands gripping his shoulders, thighs trembling so hard you nearly collapsed onto his chest.

Spencer caught you in an instant, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight against him.

You both stayed like that for a long while. Sweaty, trembling, still joined. His cock eventually softened inside you, but neither of you were in a rush to move. He kissed your shoulder. Then your neck. Then the corner of your mouth.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. You nodded, chest still heaving. “More than okay.”

He smiled, cheeks still pink. “That was the best I’ve ever felt in my life.”

You laughed against his cheek. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” he said sincerely, voice low and earnest. “You make it better every time.” You kissed him slow—messy, deep, lingering. Then you whispered against his lips, “Next time, I’ll keep you begging even longer.” Spencer groaned softly, burying his face in your neck.

“I’m not going to survive you,” he mumbled.

And he sounded like he didn’t mind one bit.

[moondustbaby]

Always On Your Side

bsf!Rafe x bsf!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

summary: You walk out of a party after an argument with Topper and Kelce leaves you fuming. But Rafe’s not far behind — because when you’re upset, he’s already halfway out the door to find you.

⸻

You shouldn’t have come to this party.

That was your first mistake.

Your second mistake was letting Rafe talk you into pregaming with the boys—because now you’re standing in a stranger’s kitchen, clutching a red solo cup filled with watered-down tequila Sprite, trying not to lose your shit on Topper.

“Okay, but you literally said—”

“No, you said that!” Topper cuts you off with a loud laugh, pointing at you like you’re some kind of joke. “I said it’s not that deep. You’re the one who made it a whole thing.”

You blink. “Because it was a thing—”

Kelce interjects from the other side of the island, already grinning. “She’s getting mad. Look at her.”

Your blood heats instantly.

You open your mouth to fire back, but Topper holds up his hands like you’re hysterical, voice patronizing. “Relax. Jesus. You’re cute when you’re mad, but like—just take a breath.”

That’s it.

You slam your cup down on the counter and shoot both of them the nastiest look you can muster. “Fuck you. Both of you.”

“God, she’s feisty tonight—”

You flip them off as you spin on your heel and storm out of the kitchen, pushing past sweaty strangers and trying not to scream. You hear Kelce laugh, and Topper say something else—probably another you’re overreacting or calm down—but it’s drowned out by your pulse rushing in your ears.

You barely make it down the front steps before you hear him.

“Hey.”

You don’t stop walking.

“Hey.” He calls again—closer now. “Slow down.”

“I’m fine,” you snap over your shoulder, marching toward the street.

Rafe catches up anyway.

Long strides, slightly out of breath, hoodie hanging off his broad shoulders, baseball hat tugged low. He jogs up beside you, a little frown forming as he sees the look on your face.

“You’re not fine,” he says gently.

You look away, jaw clenched.

“Seriously, talk to me.”

You keep walking, arms crossed tight. “I don’t wanna talk.”

“Okay. That’s fine,” Rafe says easily. “We don’t have to talk. But can you slow down so I don’t have to jog beside you like a golden retriever?”

You crack a tiny smile despite yourself, biting the inside of your cheek.

He sees it. Smirks. “There she is.”

You shake your head, eyes still stinging with rage. “They’re so fucking stupid, Rafe.”

“I know.”

“And they think it’s funny to just—to gang up on me and laugh and treat me like I’m some dumb girl who doesn’t know what she’s talking about—”

“I know, baby.”

The word slips out without hesitation. Like it belongs to you.

You go quiet.

Rafe’s voice softens, warm and grounded. “You’re not dumb. And they know you’re not dumb. They’re just dickheads when they’re drunk.”

“They weren’t even drunk,” you mutter.

“Even worse.”

You finally stop walking, turning toward him. You fold your arms tighter, chin tilted up.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Rafe blinks. “I was literally halfway across the kitchen—”

“Yeah, but you always say something. You’re always on my side.”

“I am on your side,” he says quickly. “Always. But I didn’t even hear what started it—by the time I looked over, you were already going full murder mode.”

You scoff. “Nice.”

“Hey,” he steps closer. “I’m not making fun of you.”

“You laughed.”

“I smiled. Different.”

You narrow your eyes.

He’s not smiling now.

He just stands there, letting you breathe.

“You know I’d never let anyone actually mess with you, right?” he says after a second. “I’m not gonna let Topper or Kelce—or anyone—treat you like shit. That’s not happening.”

You swallow hard. Your voice drops. “Felt like it was.”

Rafe’s jaw tenses.

He steps in again—close now, his cologne and hoodie and those sharp blue eyes all wrapped around you like a net.

“Then I’ll talk to them,” he says simply. “I’ll get in their faces. I don’t give a fuck.”

You blink. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

“Rafe—”

“They make you cry?”

You hesitate. “No.”

“Wanna cry?”

You nod once.

He exhales. “Then yeah. They’re getting an earful. Maybe worse.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up. “You gonna fight Topper?”

“If he says one more dumbass thing, I might.”

You sniff, finally letting your arms drop to your sides.

“Thanks for coming after me,” you mumble.

He shrugs. “You stormed off like a main character. What was I supposed to do?”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh my god.”

“No, like—full dramatic walkout. Spinning on your heel, flipping everyone off. I had no choice.”

You hide your face with your hands. “Shut up.”

He’s grinning now. “You looked hot, though. Not gonna lie.”

You nudge him with your elbow, rolling your eyes. “Rafe.”

“What?”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love it.”

You exhale a quiet laugh. “I really do.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “You good now?”

You nod, still avoiding his eyes. “I just—I hate when they talk to me like that. Like I’m some little sister they get to pick on.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t,” Rafe says, voice suddenly firm. “They don’t get to talk to you like that. You’re not some side character. You’re my—”

He stops.

Then shrugs again, more relaxed this time.

“You’re my person. That’s it.”

Your throat tightens.

“I know,” you say softly. “You’re mine too.”

A pause.

“I love you, y’know.”

Rafe looks over at you, eyes soft. “I love you more.”

You nudge him again, and this time, he tugs you into a sideways hug, arm slung over your shoulders as the two of you start walking back toward the house.

“You still wanna go back in?” he asks.

You shrug. “Not really.”

He nods. “Cool. We’re leaving.”

“Rafe—”

“Nope,” he says, already pulling out his keys. “I’m taking you home. Or—my place. We’ll get food. Watch something dumb. You’re done being mad for the night.”

You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder as he steers you toward the truck. “You’re really bossy when I’m upset.”

“I’m always bossy,” he says, flashing a grin. “But yeah. Especially when someone messes with you. That’s my cue.”

You smirk. “You really don’t have to fix everything for me.”

He opens the passenger door for you, voice quiet as he looks at you. “I know. But I want to.”

a/n: hi hi!! thank you for the request angel! give me bsf!rafe chasing after reader the second she storms off?? absolutely yes. no one gets to make you feel small when rafe’s around. i hope you love this soft, protective moment and as always, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

♥️ lani

Send Me Requests! 💌

Masterlist

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉:

@psychicnatural @superlegend216 @rafesbabygirlx @raineshua @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @angelofcigs @tiaajosephin

[bullet-prooflove]

Courting: Jack Abbot x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis @gabsgabsvaz @fadeinsol

Summary: You don't realise that Jack's courting you.

Companion piece to:

Tummy Tingles - Jack feels his first flush of desire since Maria's death.

Go Your Own Way - Jack struggles with his feelings for you.

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

You don’t realise that Jack is courting you.

If he’s honest Jack doesn’t realise it either. He just knows that he enjoys spending his Saturdays trawling late night vintage record shops with you, flicking through the vinyls trying to find the missing ones for your collections, listening to a track through the same set of headphones. It takes a while for him to realise that maybe he’s not actually looking for that rare Bob Dylan pressing, that maybe he just likes spending time with you.

Those evenings, they usually bleed into nights, to dinner at diners and late night double features at the movie theatre just a couple of blocks from your house.

“If we keep this up and I’m gonna start thinking we’re dating.” You tease as his palm comes to rest on your lower back guiding you towards your row of seats. He laughs but that’s exactly what he thought the two of you were doing. Taking it slow, working towards something.

I’m an idiot, he thinks as he sits next to you, his gaze focused on the screen. A woman like you, so smart and fucking pretty, she wouldn’t date an asshole like him.

He feigns disinterest the next time you ask him about record shopping, there’s a few new places you want to try, you think you’ve got a lead on that missing Fleetwood Mac album you’ve chasing. It’s all too much for Jack, he’s too wounded, too heartbroken to pretend it doesn’t eviscerate him to be around you.

“I don’t think I can go.” He tells you, keeping his focus on the patient chart in front of him.

“It doesn’t have to be record shopping if you’re getting bored of that.” You say, leaning over the desk so your face is close to his. He can smell the delicate scent of your perfume, it reminds him of daffodils swaying gently in a meadow during the first throes of spring. He wants to press his face into your neck, to inhale it as his mouth ghosts over the slender column of your throat. “We can see another movie, Unforgiven is playing…”

“I said I’m busy.” He says with a ferocity that makes you flinch. He hates himself for that, for snapping at you, for making you pull away as suddenly as you do. “I don’t want to be your friend Faye. I don’t want anything from you.”

You stare at him like you’ve never seen him before, like you don’t know the man that’s standing in front of you. Your jaw clenches as you look away, nodding your head in understanding.  

“Yeah.” You say as you turn your back on him and walk away. “I’m starting to get that.”

It’s five seconds later he feels a kick to his prosthetic leg, the damn thing nearly goes out from underneath him with the force of it. He twists his head to see Myrna sitting there in her wheelchair, her expression one of extreme dismay as she stares at him.

“What the hell was that?”

“None of your damn business.” Jack snaps, placing his good foot on the front of her wheelchair and pushing her away from him.

“Sweetcheeks…” She begins but Jack shakes his head as he picks up the tablet once more to review his patient’s chart.

No.” He says firmly, scrolling through the details on the screen, blocking her out. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kaijutegu]

What a handsome Komodo dragon!

Except... what's going on with those labial scales? Something about them looks off. And that row of spikes down the back, Komodos don't have that. And their nostrils aren't so round. Hm. I think I know what's happening here.

I did not realize that this was AI at first glance; I thought it was just a really heavy editing style. I saw the missing central toe, yeah, but Komodos will do that to each other sometimes. The other forefoot, the one with four toes, is positioned in such a way that the fifth toe could be hidden, and the lifted hind foot could be similar.

But if you know Komodo dragon anatomy like I do, the inaccuracies pop up pretty quickly. Still, it's not like it was during the early days of GenAI; what I'm seeing here is that the GenAI image algos are getting better at discerning what part of a picture is a Komodo dragon. Since the inception, GenAI has really struggled to make accurate reptiles. In the beginning, everything was an iguana... even the Komodo dragons.

Over time, the models have been refined, but there are still some pretty obvious anatomy differences- the slit pupils, the mouth shape, the overall definition of the snout...

And they often struggle with the tongue. This isn't what the inside of a lizard's mouth looks like!

There's a lot of talk about how GenAI is bad for the brain- but it seems like most of it is actually about writing. And I think we should be talking more about images, too. Not even just about the stolen training data or the erosion of opportunities for artists, but... what is such easy access to these generated images doing to our ability to perceive what's real versus what isn't?

Every single one of the images I pulled is from a highly popular stock photo site. In case you don't know what a stock photo is, it's a photograph (you can also have stock illustrations and stock footage) that's been licensed to use in different applications. These pictures aren't taken for a specific client; anybody who pays can use them within the terms of the image's license.

But all of these images- they're not photos. They're inaccurate illustrations. I recognize them for what they are because I spend a lot of time looking at lizards, but what if you've got someone writing a quick news story, or designing a science worksheet, or throwing together a museum brochure or a zoo sign? If they don’t know what a Komodo dragon is supposed to look like, they’ll use whatever looks convincing.

Images trigger something deep within us- you know that saying "A picture is worth a thousand words?" We're wired to trust what we see. But the problem here is that genAI doesn't create an image of the thing; it creates what its internal logic says is associated with the subject of the prompt. It all comes down to probability; generative AI makes images by looking at its training data and creating output based on what the data is associated with.

(For more info on how AI "sees" what it does, check out the LENS project, which you can read more about here.)

We don't see things the same way the computers do, and we're willing to trust images more than words. How many stock photos do you think you see each day? It's probably more than you think; after all, the average American sees around 5,000 ads per day. And while those photos are marked as AI generated on the stock sites, they aren't marked as AI generated once someone has licensed them. And if the stock site doesn't have what you need? No problem, just use the AI image generator to fake that photo yourself!

We already have seen political deepfakes and AI generated images used to spread misinformation. Did you see the image of an ICE agent arresting a Doordash worker? That was an AI fake, part of a larger hoax. Some of us are already learning to respond with increased skepticism to important images, because people have an agenda to fake those. But what about the less important images, the background images, the completely mundane images? GenAI seems to be quietly coming for them, and it's something we should be paying attention to, because if we're exposed, constantly and quietly, to generated images and are trained to believe it's photography, we'll be more accepting of the bigger lies when we see them.

I don't really know what the solution is here, other than for people to be aware of the stock image issue, and to stop using stock sites that allow generated images, like Adobe Stock. We can't put the generative AI genie back in the bottle, but we can at least be aware of the damage it's causing. And maybe part of the solution is to look for alternative stock and reference options. Maybe we'll start to see more photographers licensing their images directly, or putting together specialized repositories of images based around a theme or topic that they specialize in. The downside there is that it's less convenient than the stock model where there's thousands and thousands of images on every conceivable topic to choose from. I don't know what genAI is going to do to the traditional stock model, but I'm concerned about what the end results might be and what those results might do to our ability to perceive reality.

Komodo Dragon

[slattlicker]

Imagine, if you will, virgin gf whos just so fucking horny for Schlatt, girl is down BAD, for this man so much so that Schlatt has to be like “woah hey let’s slow down okay dont wanna hurt yourself toots” (Toots🤤🤤) and has to like pin (gently but still pinning) you down and talk to you in that like (idk what to call it) like “gentle parent” (???) voice so you don’t hurt yourself cause hes just so BIG and he could also probably potentially hurt a partner who HAS had sex before cause of his size so his partner whose never had sex? Oh hes terrified he might tear you in half of he isn’t careful.

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * baby’s first time ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: third date. a movie. a kiss. a girl too far gone to think straight—and a man trying his hardest not to ruin her. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: inspired by a not-so-little ask about a virgin reader down bad for schlatt ♡ i may have wandered into tenderness territory, and,,, i'm not sorry!!

warnings: explicit content (MDNI !!!) · virgin reader · size kink · dom/sub dynamics (soft) · thigh riding · fingering · handjob · creampie · aftercare

enjoy, ma luvs ♡

✧✧✧

the door clicks open, and schlatt steps aside like he’s done this a hundred times before.

“welcome to casa de big guy,” he says dryly. “wipe your feet, don’t judge the furniture, and if anything smells like axe body spray, it wasn’t me.”

you laugh, stepping inside. “real strong opening. totally reassuring.”

his place is… honestly, kind of nice. not in a curated, architectural digest way. just warm. lived in. the couch is stupidly big, the rug doesn’t match, and there’s an open bottle of something expensive on the kitchen counter. but it feels like him.

he closes the door behind you. “you want a drink?”

you nod. “water’s fine.”

“boring,” he says, already heading to the kitchen. “love that.”

you roll your eyes and tug off your shoes. he’s still in his button-up from dinner, sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone. the chain at his neck catches the light when he moves, and your brain short-circuits just a little.

you perch on the edge of the couch. try not to look like you’re imagining things you absolutely shouldn’t be imagining this early into a relationship.

he brings you a bottle of water and flops down beside you like gravity owes him something.

“so,” he says, stretching out with one arm behind you, “movie or mario kart?”

you glance at him. “you’re letting me choose?”

“no,” he says. “just seeing what you’d pick before i put on something i like.”

you scoff. “you’re the worst.”

he grins—wide and smug. “yeah, but i’ve got surround sound.”

you snatch the remote before he can reach for it.

“put on something you like,” you say innocently. “let me see what kind of freak you really are.”

he gives you a look. the kind that makes your stomach flip.

“careful,” he says, leaning back, spreading his legs just slightly. “you might find out.”

you raise a brow. “oh no. not—i mean, your taste.”

schlatt laughs, low and lazy. “you think i’ve got bad taste, toots?”

“i think you have questionable judgment and a subscription to every streaming service but HBO.”

“jealousy’s ugly on you,” he mutters, shifting closer, one hand sliding behind your neck like it’s nothing. “good thing you look cute in everything else.”

your breath catches.

that look in his eyes—just amused enough to be dangerous—makes it hard to think.

he leans in slow, gives you enough time to pull away.

but you don’t.

he leans in, and when those lips meet yours—it’s not just a peck. it’s hungry. it’s claiming. it’s everything you’ve been craving since date one.

your fingers tangle in his shirt. his hand cups your jaw. every nerve in your body jumps.

you press closer, breath colliding, wanting it to go further—but just as you're about to lose control, he pulls back.

with the most smug ass smile you've ever encountered.

you’re blinking, breath caught, body still hot.

he taps your water bottle like he’s reminding you to hydrate. “told you i’ve got taste.”

you stare at him, deflated and fired up all at once.

he picks up the remote again. turns the volume up. settles back.

“so,” he says. "movie."

✧✧✧

you’re nestled into the corner of the couch now, tucked under his arm, legs draped over his lap like you’ve done this a hundred times.

the movie plays—low volume, muted light, something with a plot you’re not following.

you’re too focused on the way his thumb brushes the inside of your arm. the occasional squeeze at your waist. the weight of him beneath you.

you’re warm. a little sleepy. a lot horny.

and without realizing it, you start to move.

just the tiniest roll of your hips. back into his thigh.

barely anything.

but the friction makes your breath hitch.

you do it again.

and again.

you don’t even know you’re doing it until he shifts slightly beneath you—just enough to make you freeze.

“…you good, toots?”

your eyes snap open. “what?”

he tilts his head down, chin brushing your temple. his voice is low, soft. amused.

“you keep grinding on my leg like you’re trying to make coffee or something."

you go completely still.

a beat passes. then another.

and then—humiliated—you bury your face in his chest with a groan.

“oh my god. i wasn’t—i didn’t mean to—”

his hand rubs your back slowly. “i know.”

you peek up at him, mortified. “please tell me you’re not mad.”

“mad?” he huffs a laugh and grabs the remote, clicking the movie off. “sweetheart, i’m flattered.”

he sets the remote aside, then shifts so he can face you more fully. one arm still around your waist. the other rubbing your thigh—gentle, slow.

“but listen,” he murmurs. “i gotta be honest with you, alright?”

your stomach flips.

“yeah?” you ask, quiet.

his gaze drops—thigh, hand, then back to you.

“i’ve been doing this a long time,” he says, voice low and even. “you haven’t. i know that.”

you go a little rigid in his lap. “did i… say that?”

he huffs a laugh—low and knowing. “you didn’t have to.”

“okay, well—” you sit up straighter, shrug like it’s no big deal. “i mean, i’m not completely inexperienced—”

“no?”

“i’ve done stuff.”

“stuff.”

“yes, stuff.”

he tilts his head. “like?”

you blink. “like—like things.”

he’s smiling now. “specific things?”

“god, why are you interrogating me—”

“because you keep lying, sweetheart,” he says, gently. “and you’re really, really bad at it.”

you sputter. “i’m not—i’m not lying—”

“you moaned when i kissed your neck. Once. and your whole body went stiff the second my hand hit your thigh.” he leans in, eyes dark. “you haven’t done anything.”

you go silent.

he softens. “that’s not a problem. it’s just a fact.”

you glance away—embarrassed.

“...i didn’t want to seem totally clueless.”

“baby. i like you clueless.” he cups your jaw, tilts your face back to his. “i’m not tryna scare you off. i just—look, i’m a big guy. and i can be rough without meaning to. so if we’re gonna do this—if you ever wanna go there—i gotta know it’s not just because you’re all worked up and desperate for it. i gotta know it’s you. choosing it.”

you blink.

heart hammering.

because this is not what you expected.

he smiles a little at your expression. “that surprise you?”

you nod slowly. “i just—i didn’t think you’d care.”

his brow lifts. “toots,” he mutters. “you think i’m gonna risk splitting you in half just so i can blow my load five minutes faster?”

your face burns.

but you laugh, burying your face in his chest again.

he wraps both arms around you now. holding you close.

“tell me what you want, baby,” he says, voice lower now. slower. “not what you think i wanna hear. what you want.”

you swallow.

“i don’t know,” you whisper. “i just… i wanna feel you.”

he hums.

and you feel it—in his chest, under your hands.

“yeah?” he says softly. “you think you’re ready for that?”

you nod, but it’s hesitant. you’re still tucked close. still trembling a little.

he pulls back just enough to look at you.

his eyes are soft, but there’s heat behind them. serious heat.

“you ever ridden a thigh before?”

you blink. “ridden a… what?”

his lips twitch. “that’s a no.”

“i didn’t say no,” you protest, even as your brain scrambles for anything close. “i just—I mean, it’s not exactly common—”

“it is when you know what you’re doing.”

you stare at him. “and you just… sit on it?”

he chuckles. “no, baby. you grind.”

your mouth goes dry. “oh.”

he raises a brow, watching the realization hit you. “still wanna try?”

your throat’s dry. your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt.

you nod.

“yeah,” you whisper. “okay.”

his smile is small. quiet. something between gentle and dangerous.

“attagirl.” he shifts beneath you, spreading his legs a little wider, patting his thigh. “c’mon, sweetheart. right here.”

you crawl over hesitantly, face burning, nerves crawling under your skin. the second your knees settle on either side of his leg, you realize just how big he really is.

your core is barely brushing his thigh.

you’re not even fully seated and you already feel stretched—high up, slightly off balance, comically small on top of him.

“is this… okay?” you ask quietly, looking down at him. “like—am i doing it right?”

he smiles—lazy, warm, and just a little crooked. his hands settle lightly on your hips.

“you’re perfect,” he says, thumbs stroking circles into your skin. “we’ll get you there.”

you start to move—tentative, cautious, rocking your hips forward just a little. the friction is barely there, but it already lights something up in your belly.

you shift again, trying to roll your hips in a smoother motion.

“…is this how you do it?” you ask. “i feel like i’m not…”

schlatt cuts you off with a quiet hum, and his hands tighten just slightly.

“hey. you don’t gotta know how,” he murmurs. “that’s what i’m here for.”

he lifts his thigh just a little under you, adjusting the pressure, guiding you forward with a slow tug at your hips.

“try that.”

you gasp. the contact is better. more direct.

“oh—oh, okay…”

you keep going. a little clumsier than you’d like. shifting, huffing, trying not to grind down too hard.

you look at him again. “sorry—i’m just—i don’t wanna mess it up.”

he chuckles under his breath, voice low and thick.

“baby, you’re not gonna break anything,” he says.

“but—you're so—i mean, your leg is—”

he tilts his head, smirking.

“what? big?”

you nod, mortified. “yeah. that.”

his voice dips even lower. “you ever stop to think what the rest of me might do to you if we’re not careful?”

your breath catches. you can’t answer.

he leans forward, mouth brushing your ear.

“trust me, toots,” he whispers. “you’re doin’ just fine.”

you’re trying—god, you’re trying—but every shift of your hips feels clumsy. your thighs are already shaking, and you can’t tell if it’s from the effort or the nerves or the fact that his hands haven’t left your waist since he put you there.

“i—i don’t know if i’m doing this right,” you mumble. “it feels good, but it’s not—like—how it’s supposed to be, right?”

schlatt’s eyes narrow slightly. not annoyed—just watching. reading you.

he shifts under you again, thigh flexing between your legs, dragging right where you need it.

“sweetheart,” he says, voice low and slow, “look at me.”

you do. hesitant. flushed. bottom lip caught between your teeth.

his hand cups your jaw gently—thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, just enough to make you still.

“you’re not here to perform,” he murmurs. “you’re here to feel. and feel good. got it?”

you nod, barely breathing.

“good girl.”

your breath hitches.

“you feel how wet you are right now?” he asks, one hand sliding from your waist to between your legs—pressing you down harder onto his thigh. you gasp. your hands clench at his shoulders.

“that’s what i care about,” he mutters. “not rhythm. not looking cute. just you, soaking my leg like it’s the only thing that’s ever made you feel good.”

you whimper, and he grins, a flash of teeth.

“yeah, that’s better,” he says. “that’s my girl.”

your hips start moving again. this time instinctively. not polished. not graceful. just needy.

“you hear those sounds you’re making?” he breathes, eyes locked on you. “you think i give a fuck how ‘right’ your hips are moving when you’re whimpering like that on my leg?”

your eyes flutter closed, head tipping back, and he grabs your waist again, guiding you now—gentle but firm.

“don’t stop now, baby,” he murmurs. “you’re doin’ perfect. get what you need from me.”

you’re getting there.

fast.

too fast.

your hips are stuttering now—small, frantic rolls, thighs trembling as you grind down hard enough that the seam of your underwear is soaked through.

and still, his hands stay on you. firm. supportive. in charge.

“you gonna come like this?” he asks, voice a rough whisper against your ear. “just from my thigh?”

you nod—desperate, whimpering.

“i—i think so—feels so good—”

“you poor little thing,” he mutters, teeth brushing your cheek. “you wanna come that bad? just like that? just from rubbing yourself on me?”

your breath hitches. your hands claw at his shirt.

and then—

he stops you.

big hands wrapping tight around your waist, lifting you off his thigh before you can fall over that edge.

you whine—loudly—hips twitching, eyes wide, clit pulsing and unsatisfied.

“wha—why—?! schlatt—”

“uh-uh,” he cuts you off, voice calm but firm. “i felt you getting close. didn’t say you could come, did i?”

you shake your head, nearly crying with frustration.

he shifts you in his lap, laying you back gently against the cushions, kneeling between your legs now. and you feel it—how big he is, crouched over you, gaze dark, hands trailing slow up your thighs.

“you know what your problem is, baby?”

you shake your head, still breathing hard.

“you’re too busy thinking about what it’d be like to ride me,” he murmurs, hand sliding between your legs again. “aren’t you?”

your eyes go wide.

he chuckles—dark and amused.

“you were fuckin’ fantasizing. thinking about how good i’d feel inside you. weren’t you?”

you nod helplessly.

“yeah. that’s what i thought.” he hums. “bet you got a whole little movie going in your head, me on top of you. me inside you. ruining that tight little pussy before you even know what to do with it.”

you squirm under his gaze, but he’s already tugging at the tie around your waist. undoing your dress like it’s a gift he’s taking his sweet time unwrapping.

✧✧✧

“you don’t even know what you’re asking for, do you?”

you shake your head, breath shaky. “i just—i want to feel you.”

his expression softens—but only slightly.

“you will,” he says. “but you’re gonna feel my fingers first.”

he pulls your panties aside, thick fingers brushing through your soaked folds. you gasp—hips lifting instinctively.

“you’re so wet, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “all from my thigh? from grinding like a needy little thing?”

you nod, helpless.

he slips one finger in—slowly. carefully.

you moan—high and shocked, head tipping back.

“god, you’re tight,” he breathes. “clenching already and it’s just one.”

his free hand presses gently on your belly, keeping you grounded.

“this okay?” he asks. “want me to keep going?”

you nod frantically. “please, sir—”

he smiles at that. then adds a second finger.

you cry out, legs twitching as he stretches you open—slow, steady, mercilessly gentle.

he leans in close, voice right at your ear.

“you feel stretched?” he murmurs, voice low.

you nod, lips parted, struggling to stay still.

“mm.” he smirks. “and that’s just two fingers, toots.”

his other hand trails down your thigh, thumb stroking your skin like a reward. like praise. but his tone stays calm, clinical, almost condescending.

“you’re squeezin’ so tight, i can barely move,” he says. “and you were thinkin’ you could take my cock?”

you moan again—helpless, humiliated.

he chuckles softly. “gonna hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re not even close. maybe if you were able to take four...”

his fingers press in deeper, curling just right—and you jolt, crying out, hands gripping the cushions like lifelines.

“shit—okay—okay—”

“you feel that?” he breathes. “that’s what a fraction of me feels like.”

you blink up at him, glassy-eyed. his shirt’s still buttoned, collar open. he hasn’t even rolled his sleeves down. meanwhile, you’re wrecked—basically naked, needy, completely undone.

he leans in, mouth at your ear.

“you’re not takin’ my cock, baby. you’re takin’ my fingers, and barely that.”

you whimper, shame heating your skin.

“and you’re doin’ your best, you are,” he soothes, voice soft now—mockingly tender. “but if i tried to fuck you tonight? you’d cry just from the tip.”

your hips twitch. you hate how wet you are from that—how your cunt clenches around his fingers like it agrees.

he feels it.

“ohhh,” he breathes, grinning. “you like that idea?”

you try to look away.

his hand grabs your jaw—gentle, but firm—and turns you back to face him.

“don’t look away now,” he murmurs. “you just squeezed around my fingers like that was the best fuckin’ thing you ever heard.”

you swallow hard, lips parted, heart slamming in your chest.

“you like the idea of crying on it, don’t you?” he presses, voice low. “sittin’ in my lap, all cockdrunk and teary, beggin’ me not to put the rest in?”

you whimper.

and that makes him grin. slow. cruel.

“jesus. you been thinkin’ about that for a while, haven’t you?”

you nod—helpless.

“how long?”

you blink, trying to gather words—but you can’t.

so he curls his fingers just right, and you gasp—back arching, thighs twitching.

“c’mon, toots,” he says, soft and coaxing. “use that mouth. tell me.”

you breathe, high and shaky. “since… our first date.”

that stuns him for a second. his brows lift—just a flicker of disbelief.

“first date?” he echoes, lips twitching. “we split a pizza and you were already thinkin’ about gettin’ split open?”

you cover your face, humiliated. “i didn’t know it’d be like this.”

he pulls your hand away—still grinning, still wrecking you with just the look in his eyes.

“like what?”

“big,” you whisper. “so big.”

his grin deepens, fingers dragging slow and deep, hitting a spot that makes your hips jerk.

“haven’t even shown you yet,” he murmurs. “but you’ve been thinkin’ about it—how wide you’d have to stretch. how it’d feel when i finally push in. that right?”

you nod, eyes wet, lips trembling. “mm-hm.”

he leans in—voice low, coaxing, wrecked.

“and now you know,” he breathes. “now you really know what you’re beggin’ for.”

then his thumb finds your clit again—circling firm, slow, devastating—and your whole body locks up.

“go on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek. “come for me. just like this. just from my fingers.”

you shatter—body seizing, legs shaking, hands scrabbling for anything to hold onto. his wrist. the couch. the air. your cry breaks in your throat.

he groans low, thumb easing up, fingers still deep, drawing it out as long as he can.

“that’s it,” he whispers. “good girl. there you go.”

and then, slowly, finally, he slips his fingers out.

you whimper at the loss.

he brings them to his mouth.

licks them clean.

eyes never leaving yours.

you swallow hard, flushed and shaking and so far gone—but when he starts reaching for the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch, you blink.

“…what are you doing?”

he tilts his head, amused. “trying to wrap you up before you fall asleep sittin’ in your own afterglow.”

you frown—confused, needy, offended. “you’re just… done?”

schlatt pauses, blanket still half-unfolded. “i mean—yeah?” he says, hesitant. “was kinda hopin’ to get you cozy again…maybe finish the movie, head to bed…”

you stare at him, lips parted. “but i don’t want to sleep.”

his brow furrows. “toots…”

“no, i’m serious.” you sit up, pulling your shirt down as best you can—not that it helps, considering your whole body’s still humming from his fingers. “i don’t want to stop. not yet.”

“you just came so hard i thought you forgot your name,” he says, voice rough but not unkind. “i figured you’d wanna—”

“i didn’t come here to nap on your couch,” you say, more force behind your words now. “i came here because i like you. because i trust you. and because i knew if you touched me—really touched me—it was gonna feel this good.”

he doesn’t speak.

so you go on, cheeks burning:

“i’ve been wanting you for weeks, schlatt. but if you’re not into it—if you think i’m just some wide-eyed virgin who can’t handle you—then say that. but don’t sit there and act like you don’t want me when you’ve got a goddamn tent in your jeans.”

that makes him snort—actually snort—but the sound is low and almost pained.

he rubs the back of his neck, looking away for a beat before meeting your eyes again.

“fuck, toots,” he mutters. “it’s not that i don’t want you. jesus. believe me, i do. i’m dying over here.”

“then what?” you ask, quieter now.

his jaw ticks. “i’m tryin’ not to be the asshole who rushes a girl into something she’ll regret. especially one who’s never done it before. especially you.”

you sit still for a moment. swallow hard. then:

“i’m not rushing. i’m asking. and i’m not trying to jump straight into sex. i just… i wanna see you. i wanna touch you. i wanna make you feel good, too.”

his breath hitches.

you shift closer. rest a hand over his. “let me?”

he stares at you—searching. maybe for fear, maybe for hesitation?

but he finds neither.

“…alright,” he says, voice lower than before. “we’ll take it slow."

you nod.

and then?

he leans back on the couch and spreads his thighs—just a little.

“then c’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “you wanted to touch?”

you nod again—heart pounding.

“be gentle with it, now,” he adds, undoing his jeans. “he’s not used to sweet girls with tiny little hands.”

schlatt undoes his jeans slow, deliberate—like he’s still giving you time to change your mind.

you don’t.

can’t.

not with the way your mouth’s gone dry and your thighs are already pressing together again.

he shoves the denim down his thighs and leans back, boxers tented—massively—the outline of him enough to make your breath catch.

and then, finally, he tugs the waistband down.

you suck in a breath.

jesus.

he’s huge.

long and heavy, flushed dark at the tip, veined and thick and impossibly real. he’s hard—painfully hard—and lying against his stomach like he knows damn well you’re staring.

and you are.

because your mind’s blank.

wiped.

replaced with the single, earth-shattering thought:

there’s no way that’s fitting inside me.

but you want to try.

and then?

you notice it.

a glint of silver.

pierced—through the underside of the head. a smooth, shining barbell catching the soft lamp light, nestled against all that flushed skin like it belongs there.

your thighs press tighter.

“holy shit,” you whisper.

he raises a brow, cocky but cautious. “too much?”

you shake your head violently.

“no. no, i just—” you blink, still stunned. “it’s just… bigger than i thought. and the piercing…”

he smirks. “didn’t peg you for the kind who’d like that.”

you lick your lips. “i didn’t know i liked it.”

he lets out a low, breathless chuckle. “fuck, you’re cute.”

you reach out—hesitant at first—until your fingers brush against his length, and he exhales hard through his nose.

“careful,” he mutters. “he’s shy.”

you glance up, wide-eyed.

he’s already watching you, his gaze dark and steady, one arm thrown over the back of the couch like he’s trying to look casual—but the flex of his thigh beneath your knee gives him away.

you wrap your hand around him, featherlight.

his breath catches. “a little tighter, baby.”

you squeeze—barely.

he groans. “yeah. just like that.”

you pump once, twice, awkward and unsure. “am i…?”

“you’re doin’ so good,” he says, voice rough. “just keep goin’. nice and slow.”

you bite your lip and keep your eyes on your hand, watching the way his skin shifts, how your fingers don’t quite close all the way around.

god, he’s thick.

he guides you gently—fingers curling over yours, setting the pace, the rhythm.

“that’s it,” he murmurs. “easy, yeah? keep your hand right there—good girl.”

the praise makes your stomach flutter.

you pump again, smoother now. his hips twitch—just a little—and he sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“try twisting your wrist a little at the top,” he says, almost too calmly. “not too much. just—fuck, yeah, like that.”

you look up at him again, half-proud, half-hungry.

his jaw’s tight. he’s breathing hard. and the muscle in his thigh jumps every time you give him a firmer stroke.

you’re learning fast.

another slow pump and there it is—a bead of slick, glistening at the tip.

you blink.

then, without thinking, you lean in and press a kitten lick to it—light, curious, reverent.

he chokes.

“jesus—fuck, baby—”

you flinch back. “sorry! i didn’t—was that—?”

he huffs a breath, eyes squeezing shut like he’s trying to reset the entire planet.

“no, that was—shit, that was perfect. you’re so fucking perfect.”

you glance down again.

still curious.

still hungry.

you lean in—and this time, you press your tongue flat to the base and drag it all the way up. slow. careful. lingering at the tip with another kitten lick, like it’s instinct.

he bucks.

actually bucks.

“fuck, baby—!”

you sit back again, blinking up at him, lips slick, proud and a little uncertain.

“…did i mess up?”

he stares at you like you’ve just reinvented sex. like he can’t decide if he’s terrified or in love.

then you do it again.

same motion.

same wide eyes looking up at him.

his hand shoots out—grabs the base of his cock like it’s the only thing keeping him from losing it all over your pretty, determined face.

“okay,” he rasps. “okay, that’s enough.”

you pout. “why?”

he looks wrecked. cheeks flushed, hair mussed, thighs tensed like steel under you.

“because if you do that one more fucking time,” he growls, “i’m gonna come so hard i black out, and that’s not how i wanna finish this date.”

you blink. then slowly smile.

“…so i’m good at it?”

“sweetheart,” he huffs, tugging you into his lap again, “you’re a goddamn menace.”

he tucks you into his lap like muscle memory—your bare thighs stretched over denim, your flushed face resting against his shoulder.

his cock is still hard, still leaking, still angry at the denial.

you squirm once and feel it press against your stomach.

“…can i try?” you whisper, voice small but sure.

he stills.

“...try what, baby?”

you don’t look at him. “…taking you. at least a little.”

he goes quiet. one long beat. then another.

“you sure?” he asks finally—low, serious.

you nod. “i just… wanna see. i wanna try. i know it might not go all the way, but—”

“but you want to know how it feels,” he finishes for you, voice gentling. “you wanna feel us.”

you nod again.

he sighs like he’s aging a decade on the spot, but you catch the way his arms tighten around your waist—like he’s already imagining it.

“…we’re goin’ slow,” he warns.

“okay.”

“and the second it’s too much, you tell me.”

“okay.”

he looks at you for a moment—long and steady—like he’s memorizing the curve of your face.

then: “all right, sweetheart.”

you sit up.

and he leans back.

cock thick and flushed, resting against his stomach like it’s just waiting for you.

you swing a leg over, settling above him, shaky hands bracing on his chest.

“you’re gonna guide it,” he murmurs. “take your time.”

you reach down, wrap your hand around him again—he twitches in your grip—and you line him up to your entrance, already slick and fluttering and so ready.

your breath catches.

his hands come up to your hips.

“i got you,” he whispers. “don’t rush. just—go as far as you can handle, baby.”

you nod, eyes fluttering.

and slowly—so slowly—you start to sink.

the head presses in and it’s already a stretch.

you gasp.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out. “jesus, you feel like a vice.”

you whimper. but don’t stop.

“an inch more, maybe,” he murmurs, watching your face. “that’s it.”

you exhale shakily.

but you want more.

your thighs tremble as you inch lower, one centimeter at a time, cunt pulling him in greedily even as your body resists.

“good girl,” he whispers, voice raw. “just like that. that’s it, sweetheart. you’re doin’ perfect.”

you make it about halfway before your body stalls and the pressure inside you starts to burn.

it’s too much.

but also—not enough.

you brace your hands on his chest, panting, thighs trembling, walls clutching him like you’re scared to let go.

“shit, baby,” he grits, hands hovering like he’s torn between helping you up or holding you down. “you—you can stop now. that’s already so much—”

you nod. you try.

you lift your hips—just barely—

but the friction is molten.

you gasp—then drop right back down with a helpless cry.

his groan punches out of him, ragged and low. your eyes fly to his.

wide. stunned. wrecked.

you grind again. shallow. experimental.

both of you moan.

“oh,” you whisper.

“fuck me,” he breathes. “do that again.”

you do.

rocking in slow, shaky circles—just halfway down, just where it feels good.

his fingers dig into your hips like anchors, his chest rising hard beneath your palms.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “you’re riding just the tip—”

“not the tip,” you pant, biting down on your lip. “i got halfway.”

he huffs a breathless laugh, brushing a hand through his hair as he looks at you—flushed, trembling, perfect.

“yeah, baby,” he says, voice rough. “you fuckin’ did. and you feel unreal.”

his hands slide lower—settling on your hips again, firm but steady. “slow it down a sec,” he murmurs, coaxing your movement into something smaller. “not just back and forth—try…rollin’ your hips. yeah, like that.”

you follow his guidance, circling your hips slowly, shallowly, and your breath stutters out at the way it drags him inside you.

“feel that?” he asks—low, careful, watching your face. “better?”

you nod, a little dazed. “s’good,” you whisper. “i—i didn’t know it could feel like this…”

“mm,” he hums, guiding you through another slow grind. “it’s different for everyone. different positions, different angles. but this—this one’s good for you, huh?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “yeah, it’s—fuck, schlatt—”

his eyes flutter shut for a second, like he’s trying to hold himself together. “legs okay?” he murmurs. “you need a break?”

they’re shaking, but not in pain. you shift a little and shake your head a bit, side to side. “just tired.”

you whimper. your head tips back, mouth falling open, cunt fluttering around him with every slow drag of your hips.

“can’t think, can you?” he murmurs, voice a gravelly purr. “too full to think. you like bein’ dumb on my cock, sweetheart?”

you nod. frantic this time. you do.

he chuckles—hoarse, wrecked.

“you’re so fuckin’ tight like this,” he groans. “fuck—every time you move, i feel your pussy pulling at me.”

you try to answer, but it comes out a whine.

“drunk on it already?” he teases, and his hand slides down—rubbing slow circles over your clit. “and i’m not even all the way in.”

that makes your whole body twitch. you bite your lip. squirm a little.

“i—maybe i can—”

“no,” he says gently, pressing his thumb a little firmer. “you don’t have to, baby. half’s already fuckin’ killin’ me.”

but it’s too late.

your body’s greedy.

you grind down again—slow, thoughtless, dizzy—and your hips roll just right, angling perfectly, and suddenly you slip.

lower.

deeper.

your eyes snap open.

he gasps—loud, choked, shocked.

you freeze.

and the second he’s all the way in—buried to the base—you scream.

not loud, but ragged. guttural. like the air’s been punched from your lungs and replaced with heat and pressure and the overwhelming stretch of being full.

you’re shaking. writhing. every nerve ending flaring at once. your hands claw at his chest. you can’t breathe. can’t think.

“oh my fuck, baby—” schlatt grits out, voice wrecked, hands flying to your hips like he’s trying to steady himself before he loses all control.

your body clenches around him on instinct���so tight, so wet, so goddamn full of him it’s like your body doesn’t know whether to panic or come.

“i didn’t mean to—” you gasp, tears in your eyes, head spinning. “i just—it just slipped—”

“i know, i know,” he breathes, voice wild, thumb brushing your hip like it might calm you down—even as his grip twitches, even as every muscle in his body begs him to move.

but he doesn’t.

not yet.

because when he looks down—it’s right there.

the base of his cock flushed dark, your folds swollen and stretched taut around him, a slick, shiny ring where your body’s clinging like it doesn’t want to let him go. like you were built for this.

he groans, deep and guttural. “jesus christ.”

you blink down at him, dazed. “what?”

“look at this,” he mutters, dragging his eyes down to where your bodies are still locked. “look at this. you’re fuckin’ made for me.”

his hand slides between your thighs—spreads you open just enough that you both get a better view.

your breath stutters.

because fuck, it’s obscene.

the size difference, the way he fills you, how swollen and stretched and stuffed you are—it’s so much. too much.

and still, your cunt clenches around him again like it wants more.

he grabs your hips—rough now, greedy—and starts grinding into you, slow but deep, like he wants to feel every inch of your walls wrapped around him, stretching, clenching, taking.

“oh, my fuck, baby—” he hisses, watching where he disappears inside you. “it fits. it fits. i can feel your cunt choking on it. look at how tight you are—look at how deep i am—fuck—”

he laughs under his breath. wrecked.

your hips twitch at his words.

you’re still panting. flushed and sensitive and wide-eyed. “i didn’t mean to take all of it—i just—i wanted more—”

“i know,” he says again, gentler now. “but all of me? on your first time?”

his head drops. his forehead rests against yours.

“fuck, you’re unreal.”

then he pulls back just an inch—slow, cautious, like he’s testing the water—and your body on top of his.

his jaw clenches. his hands twitch against your hips like he's holding back something barely contained. he drops his forehead against yours again—like he’s trying to ground himself in your skin instead of the way you feel wrapped around him.

you whimper softly, body twitching with aftershocks, and that’s when he really looks at you.

eyes wild.

lips parted.

hair a mess.

his gaze drops between your bodies—where he’s still buried, where he can feel you throbbing around him, leaking down his length—and something shifts.

he exhales.

rough. shaky. dangerous.

like he’s one wrong move from losing control all over again.

“baby—” he murmurs, voice low and fraying. “i need to—”

he cuts himself off. swallows. you watch his jaw clench.

then softer, almost pleading:

“can i take over?”

you blink up at him, dazed and glowing, still fogged with the kind of high that leaves your soul floating.

“…please,” you whisper.

“fuck yes,” he growls—and then you’re weightless.

in one swift movement, he slips out and flips you onto your back, spreading your legs with zero hesitation. the air hits your slick skin and you shiver—but he’s already there, lining himself up, kissing your knee like it’s the last gentle thing he’s got in him.

and then—

he thrusts in again. deep. hard.

the new angle makes you see stars.

his piercing brushes right there—a heavy, deliberate drag against your cervix that makes you gasp, body seizing up around him.

“there it is,” he growls, watching your face twist with pleasure-shock. “you feel that, baby? you feel me all the way up there?”

you can’t answer. your mouth is open, soundless, tears pricking at your lashes from the intensity.

he grabs your thighs, spreading you wider, pulling you down onto him like he’s got something to prove.

like he’s trying to brand you from the inside out.

“fuck—this pussy—i knew it was good, but goddamn.”

you sob out something close to his name, and he loses it.

he leans over you, caging you in with his forearms, his hips slamming into yours with loud, wet slaps that echo off the room.

“taking me so fuckin’ good,” he pants, voice right in your ear. “letting me ruin you, sweetheart. letting me fuck you dumb on your first time.”

“say it,” he demands again, voice shredded. “say it’s mine.”

and then—without thinking, without breathing, without even realizing what you’re about to say—

you choke out:

“it's already yours.”

his whole body jerks.

he stills—deep inside you, cock twitching, throbbing, fighting for control he doesn’t have.

his eyes snap open. meet yours.

and something in both of you just breaks.

the tension snaps like a wire under pressure—and you both come together.

you sob. your body locks around him. your vision goes white at the edges.

he groans—deep, animal, like he’s never felt anything like this before—and spills inside you, hips grinding down to push every drop as far in as it’ll go.

neither of you move. not at first.

just panting. shaking. stunned.

and then, slowly—so slowly—he pulls back just enough to watch it happen.

his cock slips out, wet and swollen and trembling, and a thick string of cum follows, dripping out of you in slow, obscene globs.

he watches it—entranced. then looks at you again. hair wild. eyes glassy. body still trembling with aftershocks.

he exhales, rough and ragged, like he’s trying to catch up with himself.

“shit,” he mutters. “okay. hang on, baby.”

he moves fast—but gentle. stands, tucks himself back into his boxers with one hand, and disappears down the hallway. you blink, dazed, and only just register the sound of running water.

when he returns, he’s got a warm, damp washcloth. his brows are drawn, focused—his expression all quiet care and no teasing for once.

“lift your hips for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kneeling beside you again.

you do. barely.

he takes over—one hand cradling your thigh, the other so gentle as he wipes between your legs. cleaning you. soothing you. making sure you’re okay.

“think i might’ve overdone it, huh?” he murmurs. “first time and i go feral like a fuckin’ animal…”

you shake your head, still hazy. “was perfect.”

he exhales—almost a laugh, almost a sigh—and kisses your knee.

“lift your arms,” he says next, reaching behind for the throw blanket. “we’re not sleeping on the couch. not after what we just did to it.”

you comply, sluggish and boneless. he bundles you up in the blanket like a little caterpillar in a cocoon, one arm wrapping under your legs, the other steady at your back.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, grinning to himself as he picks you up. “third date and i’ve already fucked up your ability to walk. great impression, schlatt.”

“you’re doing amazing,” you mumble into his neck, eyes heavy, lips smiling.

his condo’s quiet except for the shuffle of his steps, low muttering as he opens the door to his bedroom with his shoulder. it’s clean—cool gray sheets, big comforter, scuffed dresser with tiny tower of hats, an empty glass on the nightstand, his cologne still hanging in the air.

he sets you on the edge of the bed, then disappears into the closet.

“don’t even think about crashing in that dress,” he calls, rummaging.

you blink, foggy. “but it's...pretty comfy.”

“it’s not sleepwear, toots. catch.”

he tosses a shirt—soft, black, oversized. you tug it on with wobbly arms, his shirt swallowing your frame, no panties in sight, letting it fall down past your thighs. schlatt turns back around once you’re changed, holding out a water bottle and two pills.

“advil,” he says. “preventative. i know it’s gonna hit you in the morning.”

you swallow them, obedient, and let him help you into bed. the mattress is warm from the sheets, and you sink in immediately.

he joins you a beat later—still in his sweats, shirt rucked up slightly—and pulls the blanket over both of you. his arm slides around your waist. his other hand rests over your stomach, fingers grazing against your skin, almost tickling you.

his voice is quieter now. lower. honest.

“…you okay?”

you nod into his shoulder. “mhm.”

“wasn’t too much?”

“you asked. every time.”

a pause. then, softly:

“i’m really glad it was you.”

his fingers flex against your side. he presses a kiss to your temple.

“i know it’s only been three dates,” he murmurs, “but i really fucking like you.”

your breath catches. you tilt your head to meet his eyes.

they’re softer than you’ve ever seen them. tired. awed.

“i wanna be your boyfriend,” he says simply. “if you’ll have me.”

your chest swells. you smile.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i want that. i'd really, really like that.”

he exhales like he’s been holding it in for hours. “jesus. okay. okay, good.” he buries his face in your hair, arms tightening around you. “best third date i’ve ever had.”

you huff a sleepy laugh. “me too.”

the rest of the night settles around you in warmth and softness and the steady thump of his heartbeat, echoing against your back.

[jarofstyles]

I love the idea of like imagine them having a random conversation completely unrelated to anything theyre doing, maybe its like after sex or something so theyre naked and shes straddling him or honestly hes straddling her doesnt matter lol, and he is just palming at her and pinching her nipples with a ~hiss~ , but still being engaged in the conversation

Omg love this idea let me write a bit of that!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 300+ exclusive writings

Warnings- nipple play, cockwarming, unprotected sex, play fighting, slight chihuahua slander (I had one I promise it isn’t personal), name calling, gossip

“S’not really my business, but in my opinion they aren’t compatible.” It wasn’t Harry’s business, no, but he always had an opinion. The man had a soft spot for gossip.

“I don’t think so either.” Y/N’s hands dragged down his chest, stroking over the soft, thin layer of hair that had begun growing there. “It’s like… she told me they get dressed right after sex. They don’t like seeing each other naked besides for sex.” Her face showed how odd she thought it was, but she knew she was a bit biased. Considering they’d been finished for a little bit now and she was as naked as the day she was born- and he was still snugly warm inside of her- she knew that their relationship acted on different perimeters than most of her friends.

There was no hint of shy between the two of them. Being naked together was an activity they both enjoyed since the earlier days of their intimacy. Skin to skin did wonders for them.

“Mm.” Harry sighed, looking from her tits back up to her eyes. “Yeah. Wouldn’t really fly with us, now would it?” Taking her pebbled nipple between his fingers, he tweaked it a little bit to get a squeak out of her. The tiny glare melted when he tugged at it a little bit, rolling it between his fingertips. “Think I’d probably die if I didn’t get my all access pass t’these babies.”

Letting out a little snort, Y/N closed her eyes as she let him play with her. “Yeah, yeah. We’ve got an abnormally nice relationship though. I’m always sitting in silence when some of my friends talk about their partners like they hate them. It’s weird.” It wasn’t like Y/N hadn’t had bad relationships but she didn’t like that it felt like the norm for a lot of people around her.

“Well, S’a bit complicated. A lot of them probably feel like they invested a lot of time into the relationship and don’t want t’call it because it’ll feel like a waste.” He was speaking from prior experience. Before he met Y/N he had been in a dull, resentful relationship that he was simply too stubborn to leave.

Thank fuck that was over.

“Yeah. I don’t want to be super judgmental.” Her breathing caught as he switched to her other nipple. Tossing her slightly sweat damp hair over her shoulder, she leaned further into his touch as he sat up with her in his lap to give her a kiss.

“You? Judgmental?” Harry was being facetious against her lips. His girlfriend had subjected him to her inner monologue while watching Project Runway. She was at least a little bit judgey.

“Watch it.” Her fingers pinched his nose lightly which made his features scrunch up. “Or I’ll pinch your nipples this time.”

“Do it. A little tit play doesn’t scare me.” He sniffed, taking her other breast in his hand. Double fisting, so to speak. “I’m happy to explore things with you. Just say the word-“ A hiss interrupted his sentence, a handful of his hair now tugged roughly and jerking his head back a little bit. “Rude.”

Y/N rose a brow at him considering they both felt him twitch inside of her from the manhandling.

“I’m correcting you. You keep misbehaving. Have to train you somehow.”

“What am I? A golden retriever?” He sputtered, though there was no real displeasure on his face. They both knew he liked to be roughed up a little bit.

“No. You’re a chihuahua.”

“A chihuahua?” The word was exasperated, the ego taking a hit. “I’d much rather be a golden retriever. The fuck?”

“Yep. You’re yappy, you tend to have one or two favorite people, aka me, more bark than bite- ouch, watch your fuckin’ fingers- like to play dress up, you could be considered an ankle biter-“ The last of her sentence was cut off with an ‘Oof’ as he took the relaxed state of her to manhandle right back, tossing her on her back.

“Watch your mouth.” He grunted, wrestling her slightly as he trapped both her wrists and pinned them above her. “Rude ass little thing you are. Thought two orgasms would have fucked the attitude out of you, but apparently- stop fucking squirming- you like to be a brat.”

Y/N blinked up at him with a scowl. “You like my attitude. Quite literally told me that when I talk back, you get hard.” Despite the play of trying to free her arms, she lifted her legs to wrap around his hips. “Now we’re both stuck. See? You had to go n’toss me like a doll or something.”

“A man with the essence of a chihuahua wouldn’t be able to do that.” Harry snarked back, pushing himself to the hilt inside of her. “Made me have to take over and you’ve gone and leaked spunk all over the place. What a mess.” Shaking his head, he leaned down to bite her bottom lip, not exactly gently. “Now M’gonna have to push it all back into you. Always causing problems, aren’t you?”

[all4yoi]

𝓣he 𝓓addy 𝓓iaries

!? . . ★ 𝓜ood 𝓢wings — wherein they realize just how real pregnancy mood swings are and how they try (and fail) to survive them.

➹ enhypen hyungline x fem!reader ✦ cw: fluff fluff fluff super fluff !! some crying (ofc), pregnancy, and that's it?? just fluff really, lmk if i missed something. not proofread

➹ taglist 2: open! SEND AN ASK — SERIES MASTERLIST

LEE HEESEUNG

Heeseung has heard about the eventual mood swings you'd go through, specifically now that you're pregnant. "Take her easy." his mom has said to him hundreds of times. No matter how many times he has seen you cry over the littlest and silliest things, he couldn't get used to seeing you cry.

Just like now.

"Baby? What happened?" Heeseung asked upon seeing his pregnant wife sniffling quietly on the couch. He sat down next to you, placing his hand instinctively on your lower back and rubbing.

Your glassy eyes looked up at him and he could hear his heart cracking. "They got it wrong." your voice cracked as you whined, gesturing towards the box of chicken nuggets on the coffee table. Heeseung frowned, opening the meal and looking at you with worry and confusion.

"What's wrong baby? Did they give the wrong sauce? Should I go get-"

"They gave me twenty-one instead of twenty!"

Heeseung blinked.

Wait.. shouldn't.. that be a good thing? Nevertheless, he nodded solemnly as if it had offended him too, wrapping his arms around you. "That's okay, baby. I'll eat the extra one." and before you could say anything, his hand reached towards the box and put the lone nugget in his mouth.

Big mistake.

Heeseung flinched when you suddenly slapped his shoulder, glaring at him. He raised his arms in confusion, his eyes wide like a bambi's.

"That was for me! The twenty nuggets were for the baby!"

Yeah, Heeseung could get used to this. Maybe. — more under the cut!

PARK JONGSEONG

You were only ten weeks pregnant and yet your moods were all over the place, and ever since then, your husband has been walking on egg shells.

A single misplaced glass on the kitchen cabinets can either trigger a meltdown or a full-on crying session. Jay had even stopped making eggs for breakfast after you once yelled at him for "stinking up the whole kitchen," only to burst into tears seconds later because you felt bad for snapping at him.

Despite all that, he still found you charming. He'd coddle you, calm you down, and kiss you breathless just to bring your mood back up.

But there were times where he let his guard down, just like now.

"Baby, can you please fetch me some water.." you whispered sweetly into his ear, pleading politely and softly. Jay didn't answer but merely sat up from his position on the bed with a grunt.

A grunt.

But you didn't hear a grunt. You heard a groan and a heavy sigh. A sigh that only an annoyed man would do.

"Are you mad? Why are you mad?" you furrowed your brows. "I just asked for water from the fridge, you should be thankful I'm not asking for fresh spring water that you'd have to get from a waterfall."

To say that Jay was taken aback was an understatement.

"Baby, what are you talking about? I'm not mad." he said gently with a frown, looking at you in confusion. His confusion deepened when you slapped his hand away when he tried to touch you.

You shook your head and turned your back towards him. "You are. Don't hide it. You sighed."

He raised his brows in amusement but didn't let it show in his tone. "What?"

You turned your head at him, lips pouting and eyes narrowed. "You sighed, Jay. I heard it." you whined in annoyance.

He hadn't. But he wasn't about to argue with a hormonal woman carrying his child.

Instead, Jay pursed his lips before planting a soft kiss on your temple while his hands stroked your hair. "Okay, I'm sorry baby. It's not gonna happen again, okay? I'm so terribly sorry-"

"So you admit you were mad!"

He really wasn't, but if it meant seeing you smile at him again, he'd apologize a hundred more times.

SIM JAEYUN

Despite being only ten weeks pregnant, Jake had been treating you like your due date was just around the corner. He'd help you up the stairs, one of his hands would always be on your back when you'd sit up, and he didn't let you do any chores even though there weren't any physical changes in your body yet.

After long talks with each other and both families, you'd decided to keep the baby, especially after getting nothing but love and support. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest when your mom simply hugged you through tears and when Jake's mom embraced you just as tightly, apologizing for her son with a laugh.

Jake was over the moon. He's always wanted a family and to build it with you? He could die a happy man.

He was enjoying himself too much, even through your mood swings.

Jake watched you spread butter on a toast with heart eyes, utterly lovestruck. His attention averted to his phone when it vibrated, notifying him of the food you asked for being delivered.

Really, he only took three minutes max to get the food from the front door before walking back to the kitchen to see you kneeling and sobbing on the floor with a fallen toast beside you.

"Lovely, what happened?" he asked with a smile, kneeling down beside you to wipe your tears with his thumb. You hiccuped a few times before you spoke.

"That was the perfect slice, Jake! It was golden on the edges, it was for our baby," your hand cradled your still-flat stomach. "Now it's dirty and... unhealthy."

Jake widened his eyes, his jaw dropping. "The baby's toast?!" he gasped. "That's no good!" he exclaimed, gathering you in his arms and helping you up.

Jake knew that telling you it wasn't a big deal and that it was fine because it didn't fall on the buttered side was inevitable. He could tell you. Instead, he let you cry to your hearts content while he held you, his lips pecking your temple at every hiccup.

"Shh, look at the brighter side," he murmured as he pulled away gently, just a tiny bit to look at your red, swollen eyes. "Your requested chicken tenders just arrived, fresh and hot." Jake smiled when you paused mid-sniffle, your eyes flicking towards the paper bag on the counter.

"...Yay," you mumbled, before curling back into his embrace and kissing his neck.

"I love you, Jakey."

"I love you too, baby."

He'll clean the floor later.

PARK SUNGHOON

After two whole years of yearning for a baby and now finally having it, Sunghoon was sure that he was prepared for the long journey ahead. That included the morning sickness, your cravings, and your mood swings.

Or so he thought.

"Im hungry." you suddenly said from beside him on the couch, pouting while rubbing your still-flat stomach. Sunghoon hummed, pausing the movie and turning to you with a gentle look.

"Yeah? What would you like this time, baby?" he asked, waiting for you patiently as you looked towards the ceiling as if it had the answer to his question.

"Um.. I don't know." you mumbled, ashamed as tears started to form on your tear ducts. Sunghoon sat up straight, both hands cradling your face as he cooes at you softly. "Shh, don't cry. We'll figure it out together. Let's go to the kitchen."

He helped you up, pressing a sweet and warm kiss on your cheek as you both walked towards the kitchen hand-in-hand. He helped you sit down on a stool before walking across the counter and looked at you with a determined look.

"Okay baby. Bring it on. I'll do anything."

You giggled, watching your husband in awe and began thinking.

Ten minutes passed. Your smile had faded, now replaced with frustration as your lower lip was caught between your teeth. Sunghoon stayed patiently, one hand holding yours  and giving it gentle squeezes

"I want.." you hesitated. "Something sweet. No, maybe salty? Or crunchy- Ugh! I don't know, baby." you rambled, voice cracking in guilt and frustration.

Sunghoon merely nodded. "It's okay, I got you baby."

Those were his last words before he disappeared from in front of you and into the walk-in pantry. Minutes later he came out with a tray filled with chips, sliced pickles, strawberries and a spoonful of peanut butter.

You looked at it in disbelief. "This isn't what I wanted, Hoon!"

Sunghoon paused mid-step. "..Okay. Um.. do you know what you do want now?"

He shouldn't have talked and just came up with something more appetizing because now you're full-on crying. Sunghoon panicked and rushed towards you to pull you in a warm hug and murmured apologies profusely against your hair.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll come up with something new. I'll fix it baby, shh."

Sunghoon thought he was prepared, turns out he wasn't. He just needed more creativity (and yummy) ideas in the kitchen.

taglist 1! bold can't be tagged — @stawberri @saphiranishimurashan @strxwbloody @heesexual74 @jooniesbears-blog @ayablogsblog @teddybeartaetae @gandaengene @snowprincehoon @e-r-i-15 @ijustwannareadstuff20 @maveysoup @hhyvsstuff @tobiosbbyghorl @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia @lostwonderwall @starlit-rin @luciathcv @kkamismom12 @1-hypegirl @50-husbands @talesofthegreatest @kristynaaah @izahere @aeri-shi @shawnyle @riribelle @storeyz @17ericas

[rawstalker]

1- I don't know, like 40?

2- A year ago.

3- I've already lost count lol

4- I don't wear shoes. (sensory issues)

5- They used to be white, but my mom painted them beige. I hate that color.

6- I'm at home.

7- nah.

8- With a girl from my high school.

9- My bed is full of those.

10- I don't know, but I like leather clothes.

11- urban

12- All the clothes I have were stolen from my brother or are second-hand.

13- Loyal.

14- I like to collect jewelry.

15- A cheese sandwich.

16- My last therapist was a jerk to me, so no.

17- I've always wanted to buy one of those porcelain Chinese male dolls you see on Aliexpress. They look human and have that doujin beauty that makes me want to watch them for hours.

18- My Bestfriend.

19- 9.

20- Maybe when MTV played good music. ( I know it's not a TV show lol.)

21- Oh, yeah! I'm a punk.

22- Katy Perry...

23- CDs

24- Stupid things like aliens are real, or that we live in a simulation, like in the movie Matrix.

25- NO.

26- Barnie, you know, the dinosaur.

27- I consider her my platonic soulmate.

28- Loud depressing music is my therapy.

29- My pajamas

30- They are not many, but yes.

31- old money, eww. It's just minimalism disguised as elegance.

32- 2 times a week?

33- Gold.

34- Twilight. I can explain-

35- A style similar to visual kei, or jirai kei.

36- I have them painted black

37- Cannibalism and necrophilia perhaps?

38- Her name is Lula.

39- Idk.

40- A radio from the 50s that belonged to my grandfather.

41- Museum, the concerts are noisy.

42- There are many but I would not like to talk about that.

42 personal questions ask game

how many followers do you have?

when’s the last time you went on a date

how many posts have you made?

What type of shoes do you wear?

what colour are the walls of your room

where are you right now? (not exact location. ex: at a park)

would you consider yourself good at art?

who was your first kiss?

do you still sleep with stuffed animals?

what’s your favourite piece of clothing you own?

do you live in an urban, suburban, or rural area?

what’s your favourite store to shop at? (online or irl)

if you had to choose one POSITIVE word to describe yourself, what would it be?

do you collect anything?

what’s the last thing you ate?

if you go to therapy, do you like your therapist?

what’s one thing you want to buy, but don’t have the money or resources to get?

Who’s the first person you can think of?

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?

If you could revive one tv show that has been cancelled, what show would it be?

do you consider yourself a part of any alternative subculture? if so, which one(s)?

who was your childhood favourite music artist?

CDs or record players?

Do you believe in any conspiracy theories?

would you get back together with an ex if given the opportunity?

favourite kid’s show character?

is the person you call your best friend actually your best friend?

when you’re sad, do you prefer to listen to music to match your mood, or listen to happy music?

what’s the last outfit you wore?

do you have any online friends?

least favourite clothing style that is currently popular

how often do you do your laundry?

do you prefer silver or gold jewelry?

what’s your book/movie/tv guilty pleasure?

if you could change your hair however you want, how would you change it?

do you paint your nails?

what’s an uncommon/specific /obscure topic you’re interested in?

what’s the name of your first pet/what would you name your first pet if you had one?

what’s one feature you would change on tumblr?

what’s the most interesting item you own?

would you rather go on a date at a museum or a concert?

what’s one regret you have?

[rafeslvbug]

how did nba!rafe and singer!reader come public w their relationship??

singer!reader and nba!rafe publicising their relationship..

soft launches and hard launches didn’t exist.

there was no curating your relationship for the media, even when your publicists insisted you should.

no, rafe made it very clear that you would do what you wanted.

so you did. you went to rafe’s games, posting highlights on instagram like it was the most normal thing. you walked away with his arm around your shoulders, paparazzi taking pictures and ignoring every comment because you could.

rafe would come to your concerts. be filmed by fans, blushing with every song about him, cute shout outs and kisses you’d blow to him. caught wearing bracelets. caught walking off with you in your tour bodysuit outfit, infatuated and pressing kisses to your shoulder.

you’d talk about each other openly. in interviews. podcasts. online. commenting on each other’s posts. mentioning casual things you did on the weekend or conversations.

– “oh yeah, well, rafe always says he prefers the blue outfit so i wear that more often.”

– “me and my girl went out last night to this Italian restaurant i have to recommend to you, if you’re gonna take your wife anywhere.”

– “rafe tries to explain sports to me, all the time. i support every team he supports because i really don’t know any better, he doesn’t like us going into separate rooms to watch our own stuff so he gets into what i like, and i get into sports for him.”

– “i went to y/n’s recording session once and it’s mind blowing really the work that goes into it. fun too, she let me mess about with her guitar - and she loves that guitar.”

she’d subtly post him on her tiktok/insta, filming a quick video at night, resting on a muscled arm that’s so blatantly rafe’s, because everyone can see the small lines marking his tattoo. or maybe she’d do a quick video recap of her month, and he’d be featured in every few videos.

rafe would always have a picture of her in his photo dumps, maybe a photo of him carrying a purple bag filled with things that definitely don’t belong to him. late night photo of him in bed, you in the background, playing your music and writing songs, having had some midnight epiphany.