#I resisted watching for a while but then I stopped resisting

[miange1]

I NEED MORE OF UR OLDER MEN.

please do a boyfriends dad where reader(male ofc) accidentally made a sexual relationship with his boyfriends dad because his bf couldn't satisfy him sexually?

COME ON YOU KNOW YOU LIKE..— drabble

pairing: boyfriends dad x male reader

tw: cheating, older man x younger male, "lana" mindset, feminization, reader is described as feminine, crushing, teasing, hinting, obliviousness, being bored during sex, breeding kink, frotting/grinding, hairy kink(if that makes sense), jerking off to pics, HEAVYYY daddy kink(i cringed too don't kill me brah)

note: i love these types. i never proofread

boyfriends dad, who when you first met him already had eyes for you. the way your soft hand wrapped around his, shaking it and trying to be polite. but he saw it, saw the way you stood still and the way you avoided eye contact with him no matter how hard he tried to look at you. "its..it's nice to meet you sir." it was sure as hell nice to meet you too

boyfriends dad, who adores it when you come over. always suggests that you stay over instead of his son staying over at yours. his eyes were always on you. he'd always ask you to reach high places just to see that sliver of skin, purposely dropping things so you could bend over in front of him. your eyes would have that look, like you knew what he was doing but you feigned innocence.

boyfriends dad, who found your Instagram quickly enough. scrolling along the photos that you would post, whether it be your face, outfits, food. he was always looking at them when he had some time alone. he couldn't help himself, sooner or later cum would be all over his screen and he'd have to wipe it off. no shame to his actions.

boyfriends dad, who was a little nosey. just a little bit. he had overheard a phone call a while back, you were talking to your friend and seemed distressed and even disappointed. "i dunno, he just can't..pleasure me like i thought he would." oh? really?

boyfriends dad, who would take advantage of times you two would have alone. sometimes he would give subtle touches, those subtle touches would turn into not so subtle accidents. unlike his son, he could make you squirm and writhe with a few touches. unlike his son, he could have you moaning for real on his dick. unlike his son, he could have you cumming with just his hand.

boyfriends dad, who fucked you like an everyday schedule that just couldn't wait any longer. he'd have you bent over every surface he could get you on. kitchen counter, bathroom sink, couch, your boyfriends bed. shit, if he could compare this to the first hole he fucked this would be much better.

boyfriends dad, who could never stop talking and grunting while he fucked you. he wanted you to know you were his, even if on the outside you weren't, you surely were on the inside. "don't act all wimpy, take this dick like a man— 'less you a lil' girl, hm?" "daddy's got you addicted, don't he? mhm, ain't even gotta tell me with your words i can already see." "shh, shh, ain't none of that cryin'. big boys don't cry." "goood boy, suckin' me in so good."

boyfriends dad, absolutely loved to watch you come crawling back to him after you said you wouldn't. you'd try so hard to be a good boyfriend, try to force yourself to like the way your boyfriend fucked you, but you just couldn't do it. it was so difficult, you had to jerk yourself off beforehand. you just missed it so badly. missed his big hands gripping at the soft skin of your waist, missed the way his chest hair tickled your back when he leant down to go deeper, you missed it all.

boyfriends dad, who would rub it in your face each time you'd come back to him. saying things like you couldn't resist him, and he was right. fucking right. you'd have to give him head as an apology, listen to him degrade you like some side bitch. "fuck..look at ya, chokin' on this dick like you ain't beg me for it." he would thrust his hips the moment you'd get used to it for a second, seeing the way you could only gargle and whimper as a response.

boyfriends dad, who was just as obsessed with your body as you were of his. he paid attention to every little detail, every little twitch and wiggle so he would memorize it and get it right(unlike someone he knew). watch your tummy fill up and bloat with his cum each and every time he plunged in deep so he could feel the relief of cumming inside like he was getting you filled of his damn kids.

boyfriends dad, who would wish you goodbye and watch you kiss his son on the cheek like you didn't just taste his cum in your mouth. like you didn't want him more than anything in this world.

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR: it’s never over

masterlist

• listen while you read

cw: crude humour, mild language, hints of depression

The phone’s glow illuminated a mask of frustration on Megumi's face — a crinkled nose, deepening eyebags, a leg hammering against the floor. In a sudden, violent motion, he threw the phone. It wasn't enough. He pressed his palms into his eyes, his head collapsing into his hands as a wave of pure frustration crashed over him.

The clock on the wall was a relentless accomplice to the silence in the room. Each tick a small and sharp reminder of her absence.

Yn’s absence.

Outside, the rain had started again. A persistent drumming against the windowpane. Not the kind of drumming you would hear from the garage courteous of Yuji, no. It was the kind of drumming that mirrored the dull ache in Megumi’s chest.

He stared out at the streets, glistening as the city lights blurred into a watercolor of melancholy hues. It was a night for lovers, the kind of night that drives people together, seeking warmth and solace from the damp chill.

And yet, he was alone.

The bed was made, the sheets crisp and cool to the touch. He’d smoothed them over for the third time, a futile attempt to impose order on the chaos of his thoughts.

An open window let in the scent of wet asphalt and blooming jasmine, a fragrance that would forever be intertwined with her. In the corner, the soft glow of a single lamp cast long shadows, a solitary beacon in the dimness of his self-inflicted exile. He was a keeper of this lonely vigil, a man burning in a self-made pyre of longing.

He thought of her smile, the easy way it crinkled the corners of her eyes, and the sound of her laughter, a melody he’d trade all his worldly possessions to hear again. It was a fool’s bargain, he knew. He’d been too young, too reckless, too blind to the damage he was causing until it was done. Now, the weight of his own foolishness pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.

His body ached with a weariness that sleep couldn't quench, a yearning for a peace that only her presence could bring.

He rubbed his temples, his mind replaying their last conversation, a fractured mosaic of sharp words and wounded silences.

He had let his pride build a wall between them, and now he was a king in a kingdom of one, his riches the bitter taste of regret.

“Yn, please” he whispered.

The line a desperate prayer to a god he wasn't sure he believed in anymore.

A car's headlights swept across the ceiling, and for a heart-stopping moment, he allowed himself to hope. He pictured her at the door, rain-kissed and hesitant, the space between them finally closing. The image was so vivid, so painfully real, that he could almost feel the warmth of her hand in his. But the light faded, and the room was plunged back into its familiar gloom.

His gaze drifted to his discarded notebook, lying open on the desk. He was drawn to it, a reluctant pull he could no longer resist. His own hurried script met his eyes, lyrics stalling mid-thought. A single, raw line stood out, a testament to his aching regret: To not hold your face or feel embrace, is why I waste... His fingers traced the words, the graphite a faint whisper against his skin.

He knew it was a long shot, a fragile wish cast out into the stormy night. But still, he waited. Because somewhere, buried beneath the wreckage of his mistakes, that unfinished verse was a stubborn ember of hope refusing to be extinguished. It wasn't too late. It couldn't be.

As the rain continued to fall, a pen found the empty space below the last line. He kept his lonely watch, a solitary figure hunched over a flickering promise, trying to write a dawn that might never break.

backstage!

• THE YEARNING💔💔💔 THE PINING💔💔💔

• megumiyn comeback!1!1!1!???? GASP?

• has yn finally came to her senses…. will they finally stop pussyfooting….

• toge doing something right for once in his life? hello?

• toge, yuji & panda definitely fell for the labubu propaganda and spent the bands budget on multiple boxes for the secret

• they didnt get it.

• when yuta found out how much they spent he was pissed (gojo wasnt because he was bribed with a labubu)

• the guy who maki ran into was kamo. & let’s just say he was busted.

• this is all in the same timeline (pretend this chapter wasn’t released 6 months later)

• one last show before they release their album :’) my babies have come so far

a/n: heh.. so who missed me????☺️☺️ was this a jumpscare guys lmk. i had to reread the whole thing bc i forgot what the fuck was happening LOL. maybe i miss my ex and thats why im posting this, maybe i just need to finish the fucking series. next chapter in another 6 months x (kidding…. it’ll be this week..) 3 more chapters guys… who’s nervy… #we’resoback

taglist: @shokosbunny @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @burnishingbagels @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @standcom @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @sluttkuna @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm @syxoki

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[lilithschosen]

if the bed's rocking, don't come knocking

word count: 4091 ships: Betty x Reader (yes you read that right. x reader lmao) rating: E (NSFW) tags: smut, cunnilingus, nipple play, possessiveness (from Betty!! for a bit, lil ooc but shhh it's hot)

(ao3 link)

It’s been a stressful couple of months for you. Not having a job, trying to apply to everything and everywhere while nothing gets back to you. With all of that pent-up frustration, you’ve managed to relieve it with masturbation. It’s normal, natural, and healthy to do. Any sort of resistance in any regard, you’d grumble your way to the bedroom and pull out whatever you were feeling from the bedside table and get down to it. 

Some nights you’d stare up at the ceiling, laying in the middle of your soft bed when you should be sleeping, you’d reach over to that damn table and pull out your vibrator just to finally get yourself to sleep. It was a routine of sorts, a rhythm you fell into easily. 

You live alone, no one could hear you or tell you to stop. So, who cares?

When you finally manage to land a job at Valdivian of all places, you’re excited. Some semblance of pay instead of having your parents front your utilities bills for the thousandth time because they don’t want you blowing all your savings. 

It’s all fine and good until you get a notification literally your first day that you were being relieved of your position, only to be replaced by an AI assistant. 

So much for that, you think. 

You push back from the desk with a long, drawn out sigh. The chair catches on the rug underneath your desk and you nearly topple backwards, hand flying out to grab onto the shelf behind you. You stand slowly, making sure you’re stood firmly on the floor before fully rising up. Pushing the chair back under the desk, you hear the Thiscord notification sound from your phone. 

Fishing it out of your back pocket, you open the message from a username you don’t recognize. The person rambles on about how you’re expecting a package for special glasses then hear a thud against your office window. 

A Valdivian delivery drone.

You watch with bated breath, praying silently the stupid drone doesn’t break through a window. “Don’t break it, don’t break it. I can’t fucking afford a busted window, please.”

It zooms around to your front door and you hear a smash as well as a thud. You curse quietly and rush to the door, seeing the drone stuck in the windowed part of your door, with a package delivered inside your house. You kick at the busted glass and snag the box, glaring at the drone as it whirs. 

You toss the box in your hand, thinking twice before you throw your best fastball at the drone using the box. Instead, you exhale slowly and turn on your heels. You’ll fix the window later. 

The Thiscord notification pings again and you swap the box to your other hand while you open the messages. The person, tinfoilhat, tells you they’re a prototype. A one of one type of technology. You hum, rolling your eyes in disbelief as you climb your stairs up to your bedroom. 

You make your way into your bedroom and toss the box on the bed, now able to fully respond to the person on the messaging app. They ask if you can try the device out and essentially be a guinea pig of sorts. You don’t remember signing up to be a test dummy for anything, but since you didn’t have anything else to do, why not?

You pull the box apart and see glasses. Pink tinted aviators. 

You laugh at yourself, feeling like you’re being pranked. 

Lifting the glasses out delicately with your forefinger and thumb pinching at the metal frame of the glasses, you hold them up to your face. They don’t seem like anything special. 

Another Thiscord ping. 

You brush it off and nestle the glasses on your face. The immediate pink overlay has your head swimming, but you blink and squint until your eyes adjust.

“Damn, she looks good in those.” 

You freeze, hands out as if someone had a gun trained on you. The voice gasps at your reaction and you turn to face where it was coming from. 

A pink haired, curvy woman is sitting on your bed. She has a white billowing coat and a light brown corset of sorts on her torso, with white plush pants to go with it. The tail of the coat falls down to the floor and your breath catches at the sight of her. 

“You can see me?” she asks tentatively, fingers held up to her mouth as she stares at you with wide eyes. “You can hear me?”

You nod, hands still in front of you. You step back a bit, closer to the doorway of your bedroom. You don’t want to startle her and have her do anything rash, but you have no idea how this beautiful woman ended up in your bedroom of all places. 

“Wait, don’t go,” she calls out, reaching to grab you by the wrist, “It’s me, I promise you know me!”

Her hand wraps around your wrist and you blush, staring down at it. “I do?”

She smiles at you, stepping closer. She takes your other hand with hers, holding them in front of you. Your heart pounds in your chest, not knowing where to look so you opt to just stare down at the floor. 

“Well, I'd hope so seeing we sleep together every night. I'm Betty, I'm your bed.”

Your head snaps up in confusion, staring at her now. She bites her lip, looking at you with heavy lidded eyes. The Thiscord notification pings again and you go to take it out of your pocket but she holds your hands between the two of you. 

“You know how to drive a woman wild, that’s for sure,” her breathy voice is breaking you down, just from her talking, “I wasn’t sure if you even knew I exist, but hearing those sounds you make late at night? Hearing you call out for someone, begging to cum? It was for me, wasn’t it?”

You swallow hard and stammer, glasses slipping down your nose. As the frames fall out of view from your eyes, you notice she disappears in front of you. She clears her throat, letting your hand go to push the glasses back up on your face with a chuckle. 

“There you go, baby.”

She drops her hold on your wrist, allowing you to take your hands back as she shifts back to sit down on the bed. You try to wrap your head around the thought that this gorgeous woman is your bed, then start to spiral about everything you’ve done in the bed. 

Betty watches you panic and giggles at you, leaning back on the bed. She tilts her head and shakes it gently, letting her long, pink curls cascade down her back. Her hand runs across the blankets and she sighs sensually. 

“I thought you were just into Ben-Hwa the way you use those toys all the time,” she frowns as she speaks, but perks up as she drags her hand up her body, “But the way you whine and dig your heels into me? I knew it was for me. You put on quite a show, you know.”

Your mouth goes dry, eyes locked onto Betty’s hand as she runs it across her ample chest.

“When you grabbed onto the headboard the other night?” Betty groans, pressing her thighs together at the memory, “I swear I would’ve cum too if you held on any longer.”

“How long have you, uh,” you pause, mouth held open as Betty’s eyes lock with yours and you notice how blown out her pupils are, “How long have you been here?”

Betty smirks. “You don’t remember, baby? Since you brought me home and put me together. Your fingertips tickled as you put together my frame and you were so gentle hauling the mattress on me.”

She spreads her legs, moving them apart as far as she can. She gazes up at you with a curious, hopeful look. Wordlessly asking for you to move in, to come closer. 

Your feet act before your brain can stop you and you step forward, drawn into Betty’s space in a trance. She sits up in the bed with a mischievous grin and wraps her arms around your hips, holding you against her body with her chin resting against the button of your jeans. 

She inhales the scent of your cleaned shirt, groaning before she can rub her nose against it. She holds her forehead beneath your navel for a beat then hooks her fingers through the belt loops of your pants. 

“God,” she rasps with her eyes closed in revelation, “That time you stuck one of those toys you have to the bed frame and rode it. I was praising you so loud, I thought you’d hear me, I honestly hoped you did. You looked so fucking perfect bouncing on it.”

She pecks at your lower belly through the shirt and looks back up at you, face flushed with her eyes open again. You want to look away, to break away from Betty’s hold, run away and call the police of all things. Yet, you stay here. In Betty’s arms. 

Betty bites her lip again and you wet yours with a quick swipe of your tongue, locked in place. 

“I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” she begins, her arms around your waist starting to loosen, “I think I got a little carried away, so I’m sorry for that. I’ve been dreaming of this day for I don’t even know how long anymore.”

She blushes harder, dropping your shared gaze. You feel guilty and cup her cheek on instinct, wanting to comfort her. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, Betty,” you rush out, clearing your throat before continuing, “I’m a little overwhelmed at the thought that you’re a person and not just my bed after everything I’ve done in you.”

Betty moans quietly at the implication, layering her hand over yours on her cheek. She lets you guide her face back to look at one another and you smile. 

“Can we start over?”

She nods, returning your smile. You stay quiet with your hand still holding her face and find yourself rubbing at her cheek with your thumb. She chuckles at the action, turning her face into your palm to press a kiss into it. 

“I’m Betty,” she states, “I’m your bed. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She runs her nails over your knuckles and you shiver, a chill running up your spine. “Nice to finally meet you as well, Betty.”

She grins up at you, other hand snaking up and over your backside until she has her fingers tucked into the waistband of your jeans. You chirp at the surprise but don’t fight her, instead laughing breathily at it. 

Why was your bed flustering so much?

“I don’t think I can hold back anymore, sugar,” she grips onto your jeans, the waistband digging into your hips from how much she holds in her fist, “Can I kiss you?”

You gawk at her, unable to verbally respond and you just nod dumbly. She presses the back of her knuckles into your lower back and scoots back on the bed, forcing you forward even more until you can only fall. You topple onto Betty and she giggles at you, wrapping her legs around yours while holding your face with her hands. 

She drinks you in, committing every inch of you to memory before her eyes fix to your lips. Betty eases in slowly, nearly hesitating to ask for permission once more before she closes the distance entirely and kisses you. 

It’s a sweet, gentle kiss. Testing the waters. Hoping that you wouldn’t break it and run away. 

When your eyes flutter closed, she moans against your mouth. Her tongue slips between her lips and licks between yours, begging for entrance. You let it in, letting her consume you entirely. 

She nips at your lower lip, tugging it back before continuing to swirl her tongue onto yours in your mouth. Her hands drop from your face and splay against your back, hips lifting underneath you to grind against you. 

Betty breaks the kiss with a gasp for air, chest heaving as she pants. “Fuck, I knew you’d be a good kisser, too.”

Your lips throb from the kisses and you surge forward to keep going. She squeaks in surprise but it falls into another moan as you trail down to her chin and groan against her jaw. 

“That’s it, baby,” Betty coos, rocking into you again, “Keep going. That’s my girl.”

You drag your canine teeth against her jawbone before moving down to her throat, pressing sloppy kisses as you crawl. You suck and nip and bite at every part of her neck, wanting nothing more than to cover Betty in kisses. 

Your hands hold just under the swell of her breasts as you lift from her chest, staring at them in hunger. Betty laughs at you, running a finger over the top of them before dragging it between them. She traces the faint stretch marks across her skin and your mouth waters, wanting to do the same with your tongue.

“You want these, sweetie?” she asks with a saccharine sweet voice, pouting at you with her kiss-swollen lips, “Wanna suck on them? I know how much you love rubbing your head between them.”

You pause at the comment, unable to pinpoint when you would’ve until it hits you. You always nestle your head between your pillows when you fuck yourself. Betty gives a throaty chuckle, pulling the fabric of her shirt down with the same finger. Her tits burst out, bouncing in your face. She tucks the shirt underneath them and winds a hand into your hair, guiding your mouth to one of her already hardened nipples. 

“Go ahead, baby. I love when you play with my tits.”

You don’t hesitate, immediately wrapping your lips around one of her nipples and sucking it into your mouth. She groans, holding her head against the mattress while digging her fingers into your hair. She grips it at the base of your skull and pulls, but keeps you against her breast. 

You take her other breast into your hand, running your fingers across the other nipple to play with it. Betty cries out at the dual sensation, grinding into your abdomen. She whimpers at you, nodding while your tongue swirls around her nipple. 

“Fu-uck, baby,” she hiccups, moaning as you pull your mouth from her tit to pay attention to the other. You rub your saliva around her nipple while your tongue laps at the other, “So good for me. Just like that.”

You graze your teeth against it, holding the nipple between them while you run then back and forth providing even pressure. She cries out, bucking into you again. 

Sucking her nipple into your mouth hard, you let it fall with a wet pop. You smack your lips and grin at her. “Need something?”

Betty smirks, shifting underneath you to press her knee between your legs. Your smugness falls as you whimper shamelessly at the sensation, throbbing against her leg. 

“I think you need something, love,” she grabs your ass with one hand while the other tugs your head back and you moan. “You’re far too fucking dressed for me right now.”

“Do something about it, then.”

Betty raises an eyebrow in question, licking her lips as she looks at you. She removes her hands from your ass and your hair, pushing you away from her with a shove to the chest. You cackle at her, climbing off of her to kneel up on the bed. You reach down to pull at the hem of your shirt but she swats at you, grabbing it herself. 

She removes your shirt in a swift move as you raise your arms to help her. She wastes no time, grabbing the button of your jeans and popping it open. She wiggles them down your hips, revealing your underwear and she groans with a lip between her teeth.

“Look at you,” she drawls out, ripping your pant legs off of you one at a time until you’re free of them completely. She cups your center through your underwear, her eyes rolling into her head feeling how wet she made you. “My poor thing, I bet you’re aching. Let me take care of you.”

Betty pushes you back with two fingers to your shoulder. You fall down with a soft thud, but you lean up on your elbows to watch as Betty begins to peel off her clothes. She starts with the headband, wiggling it free from her curls and running her fingers through her hair. She leans over the bed to place it gently on the ground. As she sits back up, she shrugs out of her coat and shoves it to the floor. Then she lifts the top off, winking as her tits bounce up again once the shirt is removed. She tosses her shirt at you with a giggle, and pulls at the button to her pants. 

“I'd normally opt to do a little strip tease,” she says slowly, popping the button, “But I need to feel you and need you to feel me. Maybe next time?” 

The thought of being able to do this again has your brain fuzzy. 

She drops her pants, lifting her legs out of them, and tosses them to the floor to join the rest of her clothes. 

Betty lets your eyes wander, taking in every aspect of her curvy form. The way her hips swell, the soft tummy and the additional stretch marks across it and her thighs. She looks so soft and squeezable, someone you want to touch endlessly. Your hand trembles, reaching for her to do just that.

“Are you ready for me, lover?” 

Your attention pulls back to her face and you nod, parting your legs as an open invitation. She crawls between them, wrapping her hands around your calves and starts kissing up your legs. 

Your cunt aches as she settles with your legs over her shoulders. Betty nips at your inner thigh, sighing happily. 

“You smell so good, baby,” she groans, pressing a kiss to your pussy through your soaked underwear, “I can't believe this is all for me.”

She rubs her nose into you, inhaling the scent of your arousal. The mass of fluffy, pink hair is all you can see above your crotch. You need her, need anything at the moment. Your hand inches away from your body, reaching out toward your bedside table on instinct. Betty doesn't notice at first, looking up at you through her lashes with a hunger in her eyes but stops as she snaps to find your wandering hand. 

“No,” she growls, lifting away from your thigh to grab your hand. She pins it to the bed next to you both. “Don't bring Ben-Hwa into this. I know you use them often enough, but right now you're fucking mine.” 

The possessiveness of Betty, the way her otherwise breathy, soft voice turns hard and raspy shouldn't turn you on, but it does. Your hips buck into empty space where she once was and she smirks. 

“You like that, baby?” she teases, “You like the thought of me making you mine? That's what you deserve after all of those orgasms that tore through your body on me.” 

You mewl a whimper, eyebrows pulling together while you buck your hips up again. She tucks your hand underneath your ass, patting you on the forearm, and wraps it over your thigh once more. 

Betty sticks out her tongue and licks a broad, strong stroke at your core. You cry out, fisting at the sheets underneath you. She hums her laugh into your cunt as she licks again. Tasting you through your underwear alone has her desperate for more. 

She rips your underwear to the side, unable to pull it off of your legs fast enough. She buries her tongue into your core and moans, frantically sucking and licking at every drop of your essence she can find. 

“Holy shit, Betty,” you gasp, rocking into her mouth. Her eyes connect with yours and she winks. “I-I don't know how long I’ll last.” 

Her tongue slips out of you and you whine in disappointment until she drags it through your folds. As the tip of her tongue grazes over your clit, you scream. 

Betty’s fingernails dig into your thighs as she focuses on your clit. She draws lazy shapes across the swollen nerve bundle and you can only grind into her face. You fight to keep your eyes open, wanting to watch Betty as you tiptoe toward your orgasm. 

She starts to write out letters over your clit, starting with a B. She spells out her name slowly, switching from holding her tongue flat against your cunt to teasing the tip of her tongue into your entrance. 

As she finishes the Y of her name, she swirls her tongue over your clit for an O and drags it up and down, writing out a W. She follows it with an N and an S, you push all the letters together and clench at the realization she's spelling out that she owns you. 

Where you anticipate another Y, there's a T. 

Each stroke of her tongue against you is more torturous than the last. 

H.

I.

S. 

You're panting, holding back the orgasm that threatens to send you into a spiral. 

C.

U.

N.

T. 

As she finishes the final letter, she slides her tongue into you and starts fucking you with it. 

“Yes!” you cry out, hand in your own hair with your palm against your forehead while you ride her face. “I'm so close, Betty! Please, fuck, I'm gonna-.”

You scream her name again as she flicks her tongue into you in the exact spot you need, sending you head first into the waves of your pleasure. 

You cum in her mouth and she moans with voracious approval at the taste of your juices, feeling your walls spasming around her tongue. 

Betty keeps thrusting her tongue in and out of you until your orgasm slowly dissipates, leaving your body spent and practically vibrating. She presses a final opened mouth kiss over your clit, holding her nose in your pubic hair for a moment before pulling away entirely. 

She sits up between your legs, grinning from ear to ear with your slick covering the lower half of her face. You let out an exhausted huff, covering your eyes with a hand. 

“I can't believe my bed just fucked me senseless.” 

Betty swipes the corner of her mouth, licking your cum off her thumb. “After everything you've done on me before? I can.” 

You laugh, shifting the glasses on your face. Betty graciously settles next to you, watching over you with a pleased look. 

“I think I've firmly staked my claim,” she scratches a single nail between your breasts, “I'm normally easy going when it comes to lovers, but something's different about you.”

You cough, sputtering with a laugh that came out wrong. It makes you feel like you're floating at Betty's words. You weren't ever sure you could be perceived as different or anyone that stood out, but Betty made you feel like you were. 

She tweaks a nipple, bringing you back to her with a hiss. “Are you okay, sugar?”

“Yeah,” you say, waving her off as you shimmy closer to her on the bed, “Just started thinking a bit. So you said you've been here the whole time?” 

She nods, propping her head up on her hand while she drapes her other arm over your abdomen.

“Since day one, sweetie.” 

Betty has seen every side of you that you've brought out in this house since you bought it. You feel embarrassed at that, despite Betty gazing at you like you've hung the moon in the sky. 

“That's cool. Well, I'm glad to be able to see you now.” 

Betty laughs gently, “Me too, baby.”

She ushers you in to rest your head on her chest, which you eagerly do. She’s just as soft and inviting as you’d want, as you’d expect. Comforting and warm. 

Your eyelids grow heavy and you feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep when she squeezes you tight against her. “You can play around with everyone else in the house come tomorrow. But for now? You’re all mine.”

[vcmpbyt]

✷ PADDY X READER

⊹ A/N; just a quick something while i study,, nothing but filthy thoughts about paddy this is really just jack as paddy in general (looks/personality-wise he grabs me so hard by the balls every time he's on my screen i couldn't resist) but i feel the need to make it clear that i respect the character's queerness and acknowledge it 24/7 padoin come back to me - a gay person jump scare

⊹ WARNINGS; nsfw. AFAB reader. not proofread at all,, as always lazy bit-

⊹ MASTERLIST

=͟͟͞͞ ✧

“christ above- keep those legs open f’r me. don’t make me tell ye again.”

his voice was low, rough, the Irish thick in his throat from both whiskey and the way he was watching you- spread out, flushed and shaking, thighs trembling already after he’d dragged two orgasms out of you with nothing but his tongue and fingers. you couldn’t answer- not with how you were sobbing, chest heaving, slick pouring out of your spent cunt and onto the sheets.

and then came the first slap. directly to your soaked, swollen folds. that was enough to draw a scream from you, full throated and high pitched.

“oh, i fuckin’ knew ye’d like that,” he growled, grinning down at your ruined body. his palm came down again, another wet crack across your clit and lips, the sound obscene in the quiet room. louder still because of how squelchy you were- slick everywhere, thighs shiny, cunt weeping around nothing.

“look at ye,” paddy rasped, voice hoarse with want. another slap. another sob. you clawed at the sheets first, then at your own shirt. then his wrist when he pressed your thighs wide again, keeping you spread even as you tried to squirm away. your legs kept jerking, desperate to close, but he was stronger- far stronger- and you weren't going anywhere. “stay open f’r me,” he said again, tone sharper this time. “or i’ll start countin’.” another sharp smack to your cunt- right on the clit this time. you howled, hips jolting, hands flying to his forearm, trying to push him back but it was useless. his weight was pinning you down, and he was grinning like a madman now, drunk on the sight of you falling apart on his fingers.

“ye'r a fuckin’ mess,” he crooned, dragging his soaked fingers through your folds, pulling them apart to watch you fluttering. “poor thing can’t even take a wee slap without crying” you sobbed even louder, head tossing side to side, hips bucking helplessly when he landed another soft wet slap. the sound was filthy, so dirty... cunt squelching, slick dripping down your ass, mixing with the lewd slap-slap-slap of his palm. It made your humiliation worse, face burning as the tears came faster, your nails now dragging uselessly over your own belly, clutching at your shirt, at anything. “fuckin’ love this,” paddy groaned, his voice ragged. “are ye shy now? after the way ye soaked m’fuckin’ hand?” he murmured, tongue running over his bottom lip.

he dragged his fingers slow through your folds, spreading you apart again but this time with a filthy sort of reverence. “pretty thing ye are,” he breathed, thumb circling lazy over your soaked, twitching clit. “can’t stop flutterin’, can ye?” he kept you open. pressed your thighs wider with his other hand, letting you feel every brutal, overstimulated spank right on your clit, your slit, till your whole body was a quivering mess beneath him. “don’t hide from me now,” he rasped, thumb teasing down to your entrance. “ye were beggin’ f’r me, remember?” he pushed one finger in slow- just the tip- then dragged it back out, watching the way your pussy practically clung to it as if it were some lifeline, sucking at the retreating touch like it couldn’t bear to be empty. “ye want me t’fill ye again, yeah?” another slow drag through your folds. he leaned in close, breath hot over your slick cunt as he spoke against it, voice low and wrecked:

“might fuck ye on m’fingers like this… ‘til ye’re cryin’ f’r cock.”

and just for the fuck of it- he spat, right over your fluttering entrance- no quick little drop- slow, thick from his throat, a wet hawking sound first that made your whole body tense, knowing what was coming. it hit right on your entrance- hot and wet, landing with a filthy, audible splat. the glob of spit sat there a second- thick and milky, glistening in the dim light- pooled right against your flushed, swollen cunt. your hole twitched beneath it, fluttering from the raw overstimulation, the skin flushed red from the spanking, glistening from slick and spit alike. for a breathless second it hung there- sticky between your parted folds, clinging to the tender skin-before it began to ooze. he pushed two thick fingers in again, spreading you wide, the mix of spit and slick coating everything, making you squelch so loud it echoed through the room. he twisted, dragging his fingers back, spreading your folds apart again- just to watch the whole mess drip out.

he could get off on this alone. didn’t even need to sink his cock in. just this- watching you drip and twitch for him was enough to have him ready to blow.

[lvmimis]

cw: love as violence ig. fluff. implied physical injury although reader is okay now. bad things happen to trees.

Chopper had warned you just before you set out for this excursion, and frankly, the perpetrator of the destruction himself admitted it to you as he held your hand with trepidation present down to his fingertips, but you hadn’t really expected things to look quite this bad.

What should be lush, green forest just feet away from your last skirmish on the edge of the island you docked on, appeared ruined by something not quite human - trees collapsed, their trunks struck and splintered just above the roots, others unrooted completely and laid on their sides, grass torn up in large clumps and the very ground sporting large gashes in certain places, cracked earth arising from imprints of fists overcome with emotion and nowhere else to let it out. Stepping over rubble and larger split rocks, some of which you could tell were displaced far from their original positions, you could almost imagine Luffy in your mind as he tore through the forest.

An expression of grief, the same grief that kept him by your side tense and terrified as you came back into consciousness.

But the earth suffered for it. You stand at the border and there is devastation for at least a mile. The question of ‘why didn’t any of you stop him?’ bubbles into your throat but you swallow it down with the bile that rises along with it. 

You can tell Chopper is watching you carefully for guilt so you take a deep breath, trying not to let your surprise and concern be written all over your face. A bag of small seeds gifted from Usopp sits heavy in your pocket. The gash in that same side still stings intermittently but it’s mostly healed, enough that you can take this walk without being carried, something you’d insisted to Luffy and he hadn’t argued about once he realized where you were going.

You wonder if he’s actually embarrassed. Shame is something that is so foreign to him, but this… your eyes drift over a patch of crushed wildflowers… this is understandable.

“He stopped once we got your pulse back,” Chopper murmurs. 

“Mm.”

You continue to walk through uneven terrain, using the side of Chopper’s Walk Point form to remain steady. Without the canopy of overhead trees, it feels much warmer at this time of day. After a few more minutes, you start to reach the untouched edge of the forest. The sharp demarcation between the two landscapes appears almost ethereal, and you kind of wish you could take a picture, but have nothing on your person but the seeds and a water bottle.

You take a mental image, then slowly drop to your knees. Right at the border, you plant a couple of Usopp’s fast-growing plants, and they start to sprout almost instantly as you set them on the ground. Chopper follows suit, placing a few medicinal herbs in strategic areas, in case any of the fauna or other people want to use them. 

The two of you work quietly outwards into the wreckage, placing new shoots in undisturbed patches of grass. Chopper helps you move some tree trunks and larger rocks out of the way, while you use your Devil Fruit power to clear other debris and clutter and repair as much as you can. 

It’s when you’ve crouched to plant the twentieth sapling that you can feel a gentle hand wrap itself around your wrist.

“Don’t do any more.”

You’re surprised you didn’t hear him coming for once, maybe missed over the sound of branches snapping as they were being moved out of the way by Chopper. Luffy isn’t smiling, but he doesn’t appear angry either, just purposeful. He points over to a stump in the corner.

“I know you’re tired. Just sit, I’ll finish planting and cleaning up my mess.”

The crack in his voice makes it clear that he needs you to say yes.

Without further question or resistance, you nod, handing him the half-emptied pouch in your other hand. He helps you stand.

“I love you,” he says as you pass by him. He hasn’t yet let go of your hand. When you look at him, you can see a plea for understanding in his eyes.

Please forgive me. I know it was stupid. I didn’t know what else to do. Don’t get tired of me.

When you’d teased him, your eyes fluttering open atop the medical cot, reminding him that he should be nice to the trees because the trees didn’t hurt you, you had missed the split second of true fear in his eyes.

That you’d be the one to decide he’s too much to handle.

Your forehead presses affectionately against his, pressing the top of his hat onto his head so that it shades the both of you. 

“I love you too. More even.”

His eyes light up.

“No way.”

You chuckle.

“Way.” You take a step back, rubbing dirt on your hands on the side of your pants. “Get working though. Chopper’s taking a break, too.” You throw your head over to him. “Right Chopper?!”

“Huh?!” he asks, having missed your entire exchange, likely intentionally.

“Come sit with me, Luffy’s got it!”

Luffy’s eyes widen, but you grin, and he smiles instead in response. Chopper raises an eyebrow but Luffy’s hand extends, palm open for his pouch of seeds too.

“I’m gonna clean up, you guys just wait, okay?”

Chopper glances at you, but then sees your reassuring smile then nods. 

“Okay!”

[jj-one]

you asked for hard thoughts so i felt the need to pull through 😌😌

ik this is probably a popular thing, but jisung in literally any public/semi public setting. the initial hesitation before the horniness wins out?? feral.

pulling him into a bathroom without any warning? pushing him into a camera booth at the mall and planting yourself on his lap? letting your hand creep far to high on his thigh when no one is looking? yes. yes please.

ANYWAYS THATS MY THOUGHTS OK THANK YOU BYEEEEE 🫶🫶

one thing about me is i love public sex specifically bc of the elements of it being risky and making sure not to get caught so ily for this 🤭 anyways let’s goooo

jisung’s most definitely not the strongest soldier when it comes to being able to resist you— especially when you’re the one continuously provoking him. he notices everything. from your small touches here and there to the side glances you keep making every so often, it pushes him to a point of no return. it makes his head spin. and all he wants is to bury his cock so deep in you until neither of you can think a single thought anymore.

you knew exactly what you’re doing, too. the way you giggle at nothing, fingers trailing along his arm like you’re testing just how far you can go. the way you press a little closer every time you two walk past a store window, pretending to glance at something inside, but it’s him you’re watching in the reflection. his jaw tightening. eyes narrowing. the growing tension in his frame each time your hand almost brushes his belt.

so, really, it should be no surprise when he yanks you into the photo booth at the far end of the mall, drawing the curtain closed with shaky fingers, the low hum of the screen flickering to life just as you land in his lap. the confined space is barely wide enough to hold you both, and yet, you manage to straddle him with ease, your knees pressing into the bench, thighs caging him in like you planned this.

“you’re unbelievable,” he mutters, breath warm against your neck, voice caught between disbelief and pure hunger. his hands already gripping your sides, holding you down against him like you might float away otherwise. you only smile, that wicked little curve of your lips that makes his cock twitch in his jeans, and let your hand creep far too high on his thigh. knuckles brushing the outline of his hardening length, slow enough to make him shiver.

“and yet you’re doing nothing to stop me.”

jisung hisses between his teeth, head falling back briefly against the booth wall as you palm him fully. one arm fastened around your waist while the other fumbles to tap “start” on the booth screen, pretending you’re just two sweethearts taking goofy photos. four flashes. that’s all you get. four timed photos to act like you’re normal, like you’re not pressed against his bulge, grinding slow and heavy, mouthing at his neck like it’s a private room instead of a public setup tucked behind the food court.

but his hips buck up the moment your grip tightens, and suddenly you’re rolling your hips in his lap like you’ve forgotten you’re still technically out in public.

“you keep that up,” he growls low, lips dragging across your jaw, feeling hotter as his tongue flicks the shell of your ear, “and m’gonna make you sit here dripping while we walk out of this damn mall.”

you only hum in response, leaning in like you want that. like you want to push him to the edge, right here where anyone could walk past and pull that curtain aside. you kiss him deep and slow, not sweet— completely feral. tongue sliding into his mouth, moaning low as your body rocks harder into his.

he groans into the kiss, fingers digging into your ass now, shifting you just right so your clothed core presses straight into his zipper. “f-fuck, baby,” he gasps, voice barely holding steady. “you’re gonna make me ruin these jeans.”

you tilt your head innocently, lips brushing his cheek now, and whisper like the little minx you are, “so don’t wait.”

and when the third photo snaps, you’re both already too far gone— half-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, your hips grinding with intention now. anyone walking by would think it’s just a couple being a little too handsy.

but inside that curtain, jisung’s losing it. and you? you’ve never looked more satisfied than when he’s unraveling underneath you.

[totally-here]

The lock to the cottage is an easy pick. Jason waits for a minute before actually going in, steeling himself for what unseen trap his newest mentor must have to make up for such lackluster security. He makes it to the kitchen unharmed before deciding that whoever this Fenton is, he’s either overconfident or stupid. There’s not even security cameras. 

Fenton’s away right now, so Jason takes the time to do a sweep for any less visible bugs or cameras. He finds nothing unusual other than some unlabeled wine. The cottage is small, and almost eerily idyllic. It’s located in the English countryside, surrounded by woods but close enough to a town to not be completely cut off from civilization. 

Jason has no idea what he’s supposed to learn here. 

Gravel crunches underfoot outside, and Jason turns to watch a man walk up to the front door. His steps only falter slightly when he realizes the door’s unlocked, but stops dead in his tracks when he sees Jason sitting at his dining table, arms crossed over his chest and staring daggers at him. 

“Your security’s shit,” Jason tells him. 

“Um,” Fenton says in reply.The man’s probably late twenties, early thirties and doesn’t have much muscle mass. He’s carrying an honest to God wicker basket filled with miscellaneous plants. His face goes through several emotions, completely unguarded. Fenton’s clearly not an assassin. He finally lands on realization. “Oh! You’re Talia’s kid, right? She called a few weeks ago. Didn’t, uh, say why you’re here, though?” 

Fenton passes Jason to drop his basket off near the sink, putting his back to him while he washes his hands like Jason couldn’t attack him right now. Or that Jason isn’t big enough of a danger to consider a threat. He tries to stomp down the indignant anger that wells up in his throat. Fenton turns around quickly without turning off the faucet. 

He stares at Jason, squinting at his eyes. Jason stares back, showing anger instead of confusion at the sudden tone shift. Fenton tilts his head like a cat getting a new angle. Jason tries not to feel like a bird, but the comparison only stokes his anger instead of anything useful. 

“What?” he snarls out, resisting the urge to just deck this guy for wasting his time and leave. He’s here to train, not get stared at like a caged specimen. 

“...Sorry.” Fenton quits glaring and turns the faucet off without looking behind him. “I think I know why she sent you here… Um, what’s your name?”

Talia hadn’t told him? Not even a first name? “...Bennet.” Clearly she doesn’t fully trust this guy with how in the dark he is, so Jason’s not going to trust him either.

“Alright, Bennet. I’m Danny.” He shuffles around the kitchen for a minute, pulling out one of the unlabelled wine bottles from the back of the cupboard and a plastic cup from a cabinet. He uncorks the bottle, fills the cup, then slides it over to Jason. 

Jason looks from it to Danny, who sits across from him. “I’m not old enough to drink.” 

It’s not something he really cares about anymore, especially with the fluctuating limits across Europe, but it’ll say more about what type of person Danny is if he forces the issue or not. Jason takes note that Danny didn’t take a cup himself. 

“It’s not alcoholic,” Danny says. He keeps the bottle on the table, but recorks it. “So, Bennet, I take it you took a dip in the Lazarus pit?”

“How do you know that,” Jason barks out, uncrossing his arms if only to be in a better position to get to his dagger. There’s no way Talia would have told him that but not his name. 

Fenton shrugs. “I have an eye for that sorta thing.” He sniffles. He looks more tired than he did a minute ago. “Also your eyes are glowing green.”

Jason snaps his eyes down, looking away from Danny’s too calm face. His gaze lands on the cup, and looking for a distraction he holds it in both his hands. The smell is more floral than he expects wine to be, even a non-alcoholic one. 

“How’d you get in? The demon’s head is pretty possessive of his goo.” Fenton fiddles with the bottle, tipping it back and forth by the top. 

“Talia,” Jason grits out, still staring at the table. 

Danny hums. “She threw you in? Must be pretty special for her to break the rules like that.” He pauses, and Jason feels eyes on him. “But I guess the why’s not important. The how, that’s what I want.” He hums again. Fenton lets go of the bottle, and it slams back onto the table. “Lemme guess, head injury?”

Jason grits his teeth against the sudden flash of memories the suggestion pulls, and then against the immediate anger at feeling, at being so weak. He’s alive again, it shouldn’t affect him so much. Jason pulls on that anger as an anchor, lifting his eyes again to glare at Fenton. The man doesn’t react, only looking at him expectantly. Like he thinks he’s owed an answer. Jason doesn’t deign to give him one, pointedly downing his drink instead. 

He immediately regrets it. 

Not even a second after it’s down his throat does the burning start. He lurches forward in his seat before stumbling out of the chair entirely. He has mind enough to fumble over to the sink to blow chunks in it. Instead of this morning’s breakfast, however, nothing but sickly green Lazarus water spews into the sink. He coughs out the last of it, collapsing against the sink’s counter. He tries to move his arms enough to get his dagger out of his boot, but his limbs are lead. 

Jason presses the side of his face against the cool surface of the counter, staring across the room at Fenton, who has the audacity to look sympathetic. “What. Was that.” 

“Blood blossom extract,” Fenton answers while swishing the bottle. He sets it down only to wipe at the stream of blood coming from his nose. “It’s toxic to the undead, but flushes out pit residue.” 

Jason expects the anger that rises in his chest, but he doesn’t expect how quickly it subsides to the fear and coldness that follows. He tries to muster up any rage, just for the heat, but only gets another surge of green he barely shoots up to the sink to get rid of. 

Jason leans over, panting against the countertop. “I’m not undead.” His voice comes out shaky. 

“Yeah, which is why the ectoplasm from the pit keeps trying to fix you the only way it knows how: emotional energy,” Danny explains, “It hits harder than usual with head injuries. Gunk in the gears, you know?” 

Jason does not know. His legs waver and he sinks back down to the floor, back against the counter. Fenton stays where he is. Not close enough to be an immediate threat and making no move to put himself in a more beneficial position. 

“Ectoplasm,” Jason bites out, “like the ghost stuff?” 

“Yeah. I’m kinda an expert. I figure that’s probably what Talia wanted me to teach you about, or, like the pits in general I guess?” He sighs. “I can never tell what she wants.”

Jason ignores the chatter, instead focusing on the important parts. Ectoplasm is ghost stuff, Danny got a nosebleed next to the blood blossom extract, the blood blossom extract is toxic to the undead. Talia sent Jason here to learn about the pits from a ghost that poisoned him. Poisoned him with a bottle that’s easily accessible. 

Fine. Not like he expected this to go any different from any of his other mentors. Jason’ll learn everything there is about the pits, then he’ll kill the bastard.

[lucagray813]

Co-Exist AU

I am sick with a cold at the moment so here's a little idea that came to me while I was lying miserable unable to do much but maladaptive daydream.

The core premise of this AU is that Macaque wasn't killed and that after his fight with Wukong during the journey he retreated back to the island. Badly hurt and very traumatised, he hides away in a remote part of the island afraid of what the Monkey King will do to him if he comes back and finds him in his palace.

Once Wukong comes back after finishing the Journey, he tries more than once to reconcile with Mac but Mac always runs away before he can even get close and the one time he does manage to corner him the sheer terror Mac looks at him with is enough to have him backing off.

Eventually Wukong stops trying and the two coexist on the island - avoiding and ignoring each other. Made easier by the fact that Mac more or less becomes nocturnal.

Hundreds of years pass, and finally MK enters the picture and his introduction to Mac happens similarly to how it does in canon.

After a frustrating day destroying murals, he's trudging away from the mountain and towards the beach so he can go home when a handful of monkeys intercept him and seem to insist he follow them, and despite complaining this better not be another giant termite nest or some other fine dining opportunity, he begrudgingly follows them.

Heading towards a part of the island Wukong told him to stay clear of due to feral monkeys he starts to feel increasingly unsettled as if someone's watching him, and he thinks he glances a figure in the branches more than once but there's nothing there when he looks again.

He let's out a scream and instinctively pulls out his staff when someone suddenly appears in front of him but they're gone again by the time he gets his bearings. The monkeys that have been leading him screech at him and eventually he gets the hint that they want him to put his staff away - which he does very reluctantly.

Almost immediately Mac reappears and this time MK manages to resist pulling out the staff and instead starts to question who he is and why the heck is he naked? Mac obligingly uses the shadows to summon some plain black clothes to cover himself, watching curiously as MK gets a little hysterical in his bewilderment.

Eventually, MK stops to breathe and is somewhat convinced this isn't some evil clone of Monkey King when he sees how calm the monkeys are, some of them even sitting at Mac's feet or on his shoulder.

Whether through physical or emotional trauma, or both, Mac can't speak and he communicates purely with shadows. Ignoring MK's questions about who he is, he manipulates the shadows on the ground in front of MK's feet to show him his "training" session with Wukong and then several monkeys playing telephone to eventually whisper in Mac's ear, telling him about it.

Through some unflattering imagery, MK gets the idea that this stranger thinks Wukong is a bad teacher and is offering to teach him instead - and that if he's interested he should meet him in the "haunted" forest that he's been told to stay clear of.

Mac disappears and MK hesitates, asking the monkeys what they think, even if he can't actually understand their chirping he gets the vibe they're telling him to go for it and inevitably he decides it's at least worth checking out. If only so he can report back to Wukong about this stranger on his island.

What follows is a very boring and practical lesson on proper form.

(Mac being very out of practice with the concept of personal space is a bit handsy in how he corrects MK.)

MK complains about how underwhelming the lesson is before Mac invites him to try and fight him and easily trounces him and gives him a shadow play lecture about foundations and building blocks and sends him on his way and "telling" him he can come back next time if he wants to keep training.

This goes on for a while, and while MK struggles with the slower pace - at least he's actually learning something, even if it's not the hero stuff he really wants. Mac does eventually help him with his powers to a certain degree after a small mishap, but it is more or less limited to learning how to control his physical strength.

He also teaches MK to fight using a staff - not the staff because Mac immediately flees if MK even looks like he's about to pull it out but with a normal wooden staff.

One day MK is complaining about Wukong's training and questioning what he's done wrong that he's been relegated to clean up duty and, to MK's disbelief, Mac explains that it's because Wukong doesn't know how to teach. Although upon reflection MK wonders if Mac might be onto something, especially when Mac adds that Wukong never really been a student himself - learning almost everything easily and with little guidance needed.

Out loud, he wonders if he should talk to Wukong about all of this and is taken aback when Mac looks so panicked by the idea - shadows showing Wukong flying into a terrible rage at MK questioning him. He does his best to reassure Mac, and himself, that wouldn't happen but nothing seems to ease Mac's distress.

Despite this, MK talks to Wukong but decides not to mention Mac. The next time Wukong tries to get him to do some busy work he puts his foot down and asks for Wukong to train him properly. Dismissive and a little offended, Wukong tells him that he is training him "properly" - there are important lessons tucked away in these seemingly pointless tasks.

Annoyed MK asks him what the important lessons are because he's taken up some martial arts lessons on the side and- Immensely offended, Wukong starts questioning him about who's teaching him and what sort of credentials they have that they think they could possibly be a match for the Monkey King!

MK reveals that well, he doesn't actually know his other mentor's name and from there is more or less forced to confess with a "OK, don't be mad but I've sort of been training with that other monkey that lives on the island? You know the one that looks like you?"

Stunned, "You've been training with Macaque…?"

He listens as MK explains everything and when questioned if he's angry or not, he replies he's not, just… confused. MK is equally confused when Wukong starts asking after Mac's welfare - genuinely wanting to know how the other is doing.

Wukong starts to wonder out loud if he should pay him a visit and MK quickly tells him that's not a good idea - reluctantly explaining that Mac seemed sort of… afraid of him?

Wukong is very put out by this but ultimately reassures MK that he won't approach Mac and that MK is free to keep learning from him as long as he keeps him in the loop. The rest of the training session is spent with MK showing him what Mac has taught him.

(MK at some point does ask who Macaque is and he gets a sort of "He's my… He was my… It's complicated, bud. But this is as much his home as it is mine.")

Once MK leaves for the day, Wukong summons some monkeys he knows spend a lot of time with Mac and gets them to tell him what's going on, after complaining at them for not telling him this was going on in the first place.

(Most of the monkeys are friendly with both Mac and Wukong but there are some that are very loyal to one over the other, with some of Mac's loyal followers being outright hostile towards Wukong and generally staying far away from him. The group Wukong talks to are not the hostile kind.)

They explain that when news reached Mac that Wukong was being a bad teacher, he decided he needed to step in. But while he is very offended that the monkeys thought he was doing a bad job AND were talking shit about him to Mac, he does do some serious reflecting and decides he needs to get his act together and be a better mentor.

He's tempted to seek out Mac but some very insistent monkeys make him think better of it.

MK for his part leaves to find Mac and tell him the talk went well but he can't find him. After several failed attempts, he asks Wukong, who asks the monkeys, who tell them that he doesn't need to train MK anymore now that Wukong has got his act together.

Disappointing both MK and Wukong.

That's all I've got so far but Mac definitely appears again during the events of Season 2 when Wukong leaves for "vacation".

I might come back and add more to this later once I've thought about it. But in the meantime if anything here piques your interest then feel free to use it!

Part 2

[theoceanoasis]

A little fun idea

Hot Rod is a succubus who targets and hunts those who don't treat their romantic partners well. One day Soundwave is sent out to look for a group of Decepticons who were sent out to scout but haven't returned yet. At first he thinks they just got caught be some Auto bots when not paying attention but when a local bar tender says she saw them leave with a pretty red mech the night before they went missing.

Now that Soundwave has a lead he begins to track down this strange red mech, hoping to get some answers. Little does Soundwave know he isn't the hunter but the hunted.

-💜

He made it to the bar just in time. Outside, acid rain came down hard, preventing him from leaving for a while. He sat down at the bar feeling exhausted. He didn't know why Megatron requested him specifically for this mission. Anyone else could have located a couple of missing Decepticons.

They'd been sent to check out the town and make sure no Autobots were hiding around trying to make things difficult for them. When they went missing, he'd assumed they'd run into a group of Autobots. They'd likely been captured and were probably sitting in a prison cell somewhere.

He was distracted by the bartender coming over. She looked him up and down, her optics focusing in on the Decepticon symbol proudly displayed on his chest. He assumed she was an Autobot sympathizer and braced himself for the lecture. Instead, she was surprised when she mentioned the group he was looking for.

"Do you know where they went?"

The bartender frowned, thinking back to a few nights ago.

"They left with someone."

He straightened, giving her a curious look.

"Who?"

"They left with some pretty speedster. I assumed he was a hooker of some kind."

He listened to the bartender's description, and once the rain stopped, he began his investigation.

Hot Rod watched him from a rooftop. His hunger was currently sated, but not his curiosity. The mech wandering the streets, unknowingly looking for him, had intrigued his interest.

Usually, he went after mechs who cheated or abused their partners. He'd lure them into his trap and hungrily feast on them. The problem was the war, making it harder for him to hunt. People were more suspicious and less likely to hang out at a bar.

He'd been so hungry that he went after the group of Decepticons. Something that might have been a mistake. However, he wasn't worried. The mech before him wouldn't be able to resist his charms, and he could already tell he'd be delicious.

Soundwave might have thought he was the hunter searching for leads and trying to find this mysterious mech. However, he was nothing more than pray. Having no idea the hunt has already began.

[shackleton2]

You ever read a brilliant fic, go to the author’s page, and then dang! Most of the stuff in the works and bookmarks is a different fandom and they seem great but you’re not in that brainrot so you move on with your life with a pang of yearning

And THEN you watch the show or read the thing or play the game and go hmmmm I think this might have it’s hooks in my brain now—

WHERE IS THAT AUTHOR WITH THE HIDDEN TREASURE THAT I DIDNT KNOW I NEEDED HOW DO I FIND THEMMMMM

[7central]

I don’t like torres’ music but I want to because I love Jenna gribbon’s paintings and the weird gay muse thing the two of them have going on

[thepandalion]

and today in "why is fandom so antisemitic" just blocked two more followers in my sideblog, which makes it about 10 of what would have been almost 35 followers over a couple months. because the "all israelis are evil" bs is really big in mcyt circles.

also haven't watched the new season of hc because I don't want to touch the fandom anymore and enjoying things alone isn't as fun when you know there's a fandom. but also the fandom is full of people that wish I was dead so I dont want to be there either. which means right now the only things in my life are the jewish bloggers I follow (love yall) and doing daily challenges in microsoft solitaire. and university ig but it's the weekend and Im trying not to think about my homework rn

also gave up and made a "btw Im israeli plz stop following me if u want me dead" post on the sideblog. hope it works ig.

[wainawtmai]

thinking of sukuna and bimbo!reader who people assume are a pair of kinky fucks. They see Sukuna’s aggressive demands and your quickness to follow them and think he’s the meanest dom and you his pretty little sub. His to tie up, spank and berate while you mewl and whimper pathetically for more.

well, the two of you are definitely kinky…

…no one would believe that the huge and terrifying Ryomen Sukuna liked to be toyed with and tied up. With pretty pink ropes that you use to bind his thick muscular thighs to his ankles and his arms to his wrists. They wouldn’t believe the way your pretty doe eyes light up sadistically as you edge him till he growls, promising vengeance.

“you wanna cum, ‘kuna?” You ask sweetly, dragging the sparkly peach acrylic of your nail up his twitching, leaking cock. “if I don’t get a response, I’ll leave you here and you’ll have to find your own way out of these ropes.”

“you wouldn’t fucking dare.” He snarls, red eyes leering at you as best as he could in his position. “I’ve had enough, make me come. Now.”

what a brat, you think, though this is standard for him, his domineering attitude and general sense of authority and entitlement. Despite the fact that he was literally trembling below you with need, cock forming a pool of pre all over his stomach.

“now that’s not nice, ‘kuna,” you pout, nails digging firmly into the hardened length of his cock. Sukuna jolts and grumbles out a curse, come spurting out of his abused cock pathetically. You watch it with a tight smile, as he comes ropes and ropes all over himself all the while grunting and groaning your name.

“aww, you came,” you coo, loosening your grip around him, “without my permission.” Sukuna could still see your smile through his blurry gaze as he came down from his high, that crazy sort of look in your eyes. He’d done it now.

“just from the feeling of my fingers digging into your cock.” You trace the fading crescent imprints of your nails along his veiny length, humming at the sight, “such a slut for pain aren’t you, ‘kuna? Despite how much you pretend you’re not.” Your right hand once again circles his cum-soaked cock, left stuffing fingers into his mouth to silence him as you stroke him through overstimulation. He immediately bites down on your fingers and growls, straining against the ropes binding him as his cock aches deliciously.

“you asked to come, didn’t you?” You say, “I’m letting you come, ‘kuna.” You giggle as he thrashes against you, drooling all over your fingers as he tries and fails to glare at you through the intertwining pain and pleasure ebbing through him. The ropes feel too tight but the chaffing against his skin only makes his cock harder. he wants to stop—no, he needs to come again.

his second orgasm tears through him, his groans soothing out into pathetic muffled moans. But of course you don’t stop, crazy woman. Your hands tighten and squeeze as you continue to stroke him with no remorse. It hurts so good and you fucking know it, know he can’t resist his bottomless need to feel pain.

...

“do you want me to stop, ‘kuna?” Usually his pride would keep his lips sealed shut, but you’ve fucked everything out of him, loosened his sharp mouth. He doesn’t know how many times he’s come at this point. “Be good and ask nicely.”

you take your fingers out of his mouth and he hates the way he misses the fullness, “don’t…” he croaks, “stop.”

“god, you’re a freak.” You giggle, resuming your movements, relishing the slight whimper in his voice as your hand circles his throat, nails dig into his neck, and you force another impossible orgasm out of him.

fuck, sukuna loved hated you.

[swytdoll]

𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆!𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 [art: @hunnismokah :)]

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮: toji’s bulking and you’re ovulating! how can you keep your hands to yourself when all you want to do is touch? 𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝐸𝒩𝒯 𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢: any color can read<3 size difference (toji has a monster cock ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა), blowjob, female oral, choking, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, cream-pie, explicit language, mirror sex, 69, toji fucks you in a headlock ݁𖥔 ݁˖

BULKING!TOJI who always seems to be wearing the sluttiest clothing. muscle tees that grip his meaty arms enticingly, showing off every curve and bulge of his well-defined biceps. his sweats always seem to hang too low on his hips, revealing a dark happy trail that leads down to his waistband. the fabric clinging to his thick thighs.

BULKING!TOJI who religiously carries a protein shaker with him, even on date nights, because he's serious about his bulking diet. he’s got a variety of protein powders, from chocolate to vanilla, and he loves mixing them with different fruits and oats to keep things interesting.

BULKING!TOJI who loves trying out new high-calorie recipes and often ropes you into cooking massive meals with him. you two have fun experimenting in the kitchen, making everything from giant stacks of protein pancakes to hearty chicken and rice dishes, always ensuring they meet his caloric needs. he’s genuinely grateful. often, hugging you from behind while you cook, placing the sloppiest kisses behind your ears, his tattooed arms coiled around your frame. his gratitude is evident in the way he nuzzles into your neck, whispering sweet nothings about how much he appreciates your efforts. “i love you, y’know that. . .right?”

BULKING!TOJI who’s noticeably chubbier, you like it. really like it, often burying yourself into his pudgy side with a satisfied sigh. “i could die like this.”

BULKING!TOJI who despite his intense workouts, always makes time to cuddle and watch movies, using you as his favorite "recovery" time. he loves resting his head on your lap while you binge-watch your favorite series, feeling your fingers run through his hair as he relaxes. “i hate this scene.”

BULKING!TOJI who gets annoyed and sleeps on the couch when you won’t stop playing with his tits. “you’re so damn annoying.”

BULKING!TOJI who you make sure has a secret stash of snacks in his gym bag for when he needs extra calories on the go. protein bars, nuts, and dried fruits are his go-to, and he always has a little something to munch on between sets or during quick breaks.

have a good workout<3 - signed your amazing beautiful girlfriend

BULKING!TOJI who becomes an expert at meal prepping, and his mini fridge is always stocked with containers of chicken, rice, and veggies. each container meticulously measured to ensure he gets the right amount of protein, carbs, and fats, and he takes pride in his perfectly organized fridge.

BULKING!TOJI who likes wearing your crop tops, flexing in front of the mirror. “take it off! you’re stretching my shit toji.” “no.”

BULKING!TOJI who can’t resist squeezing your face in his bicep, laughing as your chubby cheeks push together. “haha!”

BULKING!TOJI who just throws you over his shoulder during arguments. “i’ll put you down when you’re done being a brat.”

BULKINGTOJI! who thinks it’s dumb as you tie a pink ribbon around his wrist, demanding he stay still. he thinks it’s even dumber when you record it, the video boasting one-million likes on tiktok. “they loveeeeee you!”

BULKING!TOJI who’s entire hand covers your face. jeez, your poor cunt, he thinks.

BULKING!TOJI who can’t help but admire the way your swollen sticky lips suckle at his thick cock, pulling him back in greedily. usually, it’d take some time for him to ease into your tiny hole. but, you were ovulating today and after seeing your boyfriend walking around shirtless with nothing but boxers on, you practically jumped his bones.

BULKING!TOJI who presses all his weight onto you as he fucks your soppy pussy, the pressure in your back dull as he prods into that sweet spot from behind. pale veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, spreading you, revealing your puckering hole. a glob of warm spit followed by his thumb lubricating your asshole has you arching your back in anticipation. “papaaaa,” glossy eyes squeeze shut as he gently sinks his thumb into your asshole, pelvis relentlessly slapping into your sore ass. the sight has his dick twitching, “humph, look so pretty with both holes filled.”

BULKING!TOJI who doesn’t care that you’re overstimulated, rocking his dick into your tight velvety walls at a mean pace. you don’t know how many orgasms the man has yanked from you. “i know baby, doing so good. takin’ all of me like a big girl, fuckkkk.” glazed eyes watching the way you glisten on him as he folds you against the wooden headboard, your legs flush to your chest. “tojiiii,” you whine, he could get drunk off the way you whimper his name. “am i deep baby?” he groans, thick cream building on his base. “mhm!”

BULKING!TOJI who has you in the nastiest headlock, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other forcing you to look into the mirror. you’re a mess, disheveled hair, tear-stained cheeks, swollen lips. the man’s so fucking huge he covers your entire body. “unt, unt. eyes open beautiful.” he sends a particularly deep thrust that has you shivering. slick, slick, slick, a repetitive noise that has him grunting deeply into your ear.

BULKING!TOJI who eats your pussy while you suck his dick. it’s a struggle taking him, drool seeping down your chin as you slurp at the veiny masterpiece. it’s also a struggle to concentrate as he eats you out like a starved man, spitting, slapping, fingering. god, you’re gonna cum again. “cummin!”

BULKING!TOJI who watches as his cum trickles out of your pulsing hole, pushing it back inside with a frown. “stay.”

[hellokittyish]

★ thinking about nanami who is the type of husband to buy you two wedding rings — one for your finger and one to hang on the end of a necklace purely so that he can watch it bounce between the valley of your breasts whenever he fucks you in missionary.

there’s just something so deeply satisfying about seeing you flushed and panting underneath him, stripped completely bare except for the jewellery he gave you at the altar adorning your soft, beautiful body.

and it never fails to make him go absolutely feral when he sees you reach up with a trembling hand to hold onto the ring around your neck while he fucks you, stopping the necklace from flying all over the place as a result of the sheer force behind each of his thrusts.

so in the blink of an eye he has both your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head with the grip of just one of his big hands, sweaty forehead meeting yours as he grunts out a raspy “don’t hide it, sweetheart. i always want to be able to see that pretty ring while i’m making love to you.”

and when he cums, he doesn’t do it inside you — because as much as he’d like to fill you up and watch his sticky mess trickle out of your puffy pussy like he usually would, he just can’t resist the urge to pull out at the very last moment and finish all over your chest instead, despite your adorable little whines of protest.

because the sight of the large diamond wedding ring hanging from your neck being splattered with his goopy white seed makes for a downright sinful portrait showcasing just how much you belong to him, and he loves it more than he would ever care to admit out loud.

so while you’re busy drifting off into a sated slumber, nanami quietly captures a photo of the lewd visual before him, saving it to the only folder he has, which is aptly named ‘my sweet wife’.

truly a romantic, in every sense of the word.

[gojosconsort]

hi! i hope you're doing well and having fun with our requests!✨ I've been thinking about this one for a good while... what if husband!Toji overhear a conversation of son! Megumi's teenage friends about you being a total MILF and teasing him about wanting to become their stepfathers? that'll lead to a NSFW where he feels a mix of proud about his wife and decides to pamper her a bit or something? please, please, please consider it.❤️ (it doesn't have to be necessarily only about Toji, I think this work with every JJK men, but that's on you.) bye, have a nice day. :)

WIFE’S REWARD ♡ // HEADCANONS

⁀➷ CONTENT. you’re toji’s gorgeous wife, and when he overhears megumi’s teenage friends drooling over you as a total MILF, he decides you deserve some extra attention for being so damn irresistible.

♡ PAIRING. afab!reader x husband!toji

♡ WARNINGS. mdni. possessiveness, LOTS of praise, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, light degradation, overstimulation, teasing, mild family awkwardness lmaoo

♡ AUTHOR’S NOTE. loved this one! ty for the request, have a great day too <3

HUSBAND!TOJI who’s lounging in the kitchen, cracking a beer, when he hears megumi’s teenage friends piled in the living room—rowdy as hell, laughing too loud. he’s half-tuned out ‘til one of them, some punk with a big mouth, says, “dude, your mom is such a fuckin’ MILF—hot as shit.” another chimes in, “yeah, i’d be her stepdaddy any day—tell your dad to watch out!” megumi groans, “shut the fuck up, you’re disgusting,” but toji’s already grinning, leaning against the counter, thinking, damn right she is.

HUSBAND!TOJI who feels a rush of smug pride—his wife, you, the woman he locked down, has these kids tripping over themselves. he smirks to himself, muttering under his breath, “little shits don’t even know the half of it.” he’s proud as hell—knows you’re a catch, always has. that night, he’s eyeing you across the room while you’re folding laundry, looking hot as shit in those tight leggings, and he’s like, fuck, i’m lucky—gonna show her tonight.

HUSBAND!TOJI who can’t resist messing with you a little—saunters over while you’re finishing up, big hands sliding around your waist, voice low, “heard some kids today callin’ you a MILF—megumi’s friends are fuckin’ drooling over you.” you blush, stammering, “what? that’s—oh god, embarrassing,” but he’s grinning, “nah, doll, that’s a compliment—means i got the hottest wife around.” he pulls you closer, whispering, “they don’t know i get all this to myself.”

HUSBAND!TOJI who decides you deserve a reward for being so damn fine—scoops you up mid-protest, tossing you over his shoulder, “c’mon, doll—time to treat my MILF wife right.” carries you to the bedroom, locking the door (megumi’s home, but fuck it, he’ll deal). starts slow—kisses down your neck, hands roaming, muttering, “fuckin’ gorgeous—every inch of you,” peeling your clothes off like he’s unwrapping a prize.

HUSBAND!TOJI who dives in with that possessive edge—spreads you out on the bed, big hands gripping your thighs, “these punks wish they could handle you—too bad you’re all mine.” goes down on you like a man starved, tongue working you sloppy and rough, growling, “taste so fuckin’ good, doll—gonna make you scream for me.” he’s relentless, loving how you squirm, knowing he’s the only one who gets you like this.

HUSBAND!TOJI who doesn’t stop when you tug his hair, whining, “toji—s’too much, i’m done.” he looks up, lips shiny, eyes dark, “no way, doll—you’re getting spoiled tonight. hot wife like you deserves it.” goes back down, sucking your clit hard, fingers curling inside you, “fuck, you’re so damn pretty when you shake—cum again for me, c’mon.”

HUSBAND!TOJI who’s all over you—after the second time you cum, he’s kissing up your thighs, biting soft marks, muttering, “look at this body—fuckin’ unreal, all mine.” crawls up, kissing you sloppy so you taste yourself, then slides back down, “third time’s the charm, babe—gonna make you scream my name ‘til you can’t talk.” tongue-fucks you ‘til you’re arching, sobbing, and he’s growling, “that’s my girl—fuckin’ gorgeous.”

HUSBAND!TOJI who keeps the praise coming—lifts his head between rounds, wiping his chin, “you’re so goddamn beautiful, y’know that? every punk out there wishes they had this.” dives back in, relentless, “taste so good, doll—could live between these legs.” when you cum again, he chuckles, “fuck, you’re perfect—gimme one more, yeah?”

HUSBAND!TOJI who finally lets up when you’re a boneless mess, but not before one last ride—flips you over, pulling your hips up for him, smirking, “ass up, babe—gonna finish you off now.” slides in raw and deep, grunting, “shit, so good—spoiled you good, huh.” he’s rough but praising, smacking your ass, “look at you—hot as shit, taking me so good.” pounds you ‘til the headboard’s banging, proud as hell that you’re his, muttering, “those kids’d lose their damn minds seeing you like this.”

HUSBAND!TOJI who doesn’t hold back—fucks you hard ‘til you’re gasping, then pulls you close, flipping you onto your back so he can see your face. “gonna fill you up, doll—my hot fuckin’ wife deserves it,” he groans, unloading deep with a low, “fuck, you’re mine—always.” collapses next to you, panting, smirking, “bet those little shits’d cry if they knew what i just did to you.”

HUSBAND!TOJI who’s still riding that high—pulls you into his chest, one arm draped over you, lazy grin on his face, “you’re stuck with me, MILF or not—nobody’s stealing you.” you laugh, flustered but warm, and he kisses your head, muttering, “fuckin’ love you, y’know that? too damn good for me.” it’s rough affection, but it’s toji—and you feel every bit of that pride he’s got in you, wrapped up in his arms.

————— ୨୧ —————

⁀➷ masterlist