#JAWS WERE DROPPED IN AWE

[st4rsdoyoulikedem]

COURTNEYYYYY🫡🫡🫡🫡

[anonyanonymouse]

I finished the update and can I just. Discord screenshot copy paste

[manmuncher777]

Imagine Virgin!Choso who is just unaware how good his dick is.

He’s inexperienced obviously, and is getting lost in the pleasure you’re giving him.

“Fuck fuck fuck” you squeal out, each swear punctuated by the swift thrust of choso’s hips. You couldn’t stop the moans even if you tried. He was fucking you with such hunger it was a surprise you could still speak. His pace was incredible, so brutal yet he hardly seemed tired. His hips never faltering as he fucked himself deeper and deeper Choso lost it from the second he sunk inside you, watching in awe as your pussy greedily sucked in every single inch he gave. His jaw dropping open as he bottomed out. Listening to the sweet melody of your mewls from beneath him. As soon as he moved, there was nothing that would have been able to stop him, his hips snapping into you so fast, over and over again. His eyes eagerly trained on watching himself enter you. So focused that you were sure he had no idea that he was already about to make you cum a mere few minutes in. All he was processing was the noises of your slick cunt with each move he made His thick cock stretching you to so perfectly you couldn’t stop the rambling moans. With your legs chucked over his shoulders, it just meant he could reach even deeper inside you. “Fuck Cho~ so fucking good” that caused his eyes to snap up to you. First trailing over your tits that were bouncing with every thrust, and then landing on your fucked out face, screwed up in pleasure. He pretty red tip was bullying that soft spot inside of you, pushing deeper and deeper that you were sure you could feel him in your lungs. His eager strokes never ceasing. “Fuckin’ love your cock baby” praise was the only thing you could give the man as he fucked you into the mattress. That look on his face, a look or hunger, of need. It was like he was running on pure adrenaline, that would be the only thing to explain his feral pace. His almost crazed behaviour, the way he never once stuttered in his movements, those moans he let out. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, but you certainly weren’t complaining. There was no way he could be a virgin “R-Really?” His deep voice questioned, coming out as a strain. You would have answered him if something hadn’t cut you off “Holy Fuck- m’cumming!” You cried out, soaking his lower abdomen as you did. Your body squirmed as the pleasure wracked over you, his merciless thrusts still not stopping even as you began to squeal and whine with overstimulation Yes you really did love his cock

[classyrbf]

thinking about jerking off nerd!gojo with your tits in his dorm room. You couldn’t care less for the loser, forced to have him as a tutor because you were failing your chem classes and needed an easy way out of your parents bitching at you. Quite literally you’ve gotten tired of hearing him talk and talk about stupid elements, formulas and equations because you’d rather much see the look on his face when he’s about to cum and hear how he sounds when he’s begging.

So that’s how you ended up on your knees in front of him, shirt unbuttoned and your tits covered in his pre cum, his thick and veiny cock pulsing between the two mounds of flesh as you move it up and down his sensitive shaft. His breath hitches, cheeks flushed a bright red, hands shaking as he struggling to push his glasses back up only for them to slide back down. “F-fuck,” he so sweetly whimpers, licking his dry lips. He loves the way you’re looking up at him, like you’re staring into his soul while simultaneously taking it. His heart pounds against his chest, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin hugging his aching cock, your warm tits only giving him an idea of what your pussy might feel like.

“Nngh, oh f-fuck…we’re…supposed to be…studying,” he managers to croak out through his pathetic moans and whimpers. His sucks in a breath, eyes rolling back when you go even faster, the sound of wet flesh smacking against each other makes the perverted part of his brain go into overdrive. He’s so fucking close.

“Awe, but don’t you wanna cum, Toru?” You teasingly ask, watching the way his throbbing red tip leaks another bead of precum only adding to the lubrication. The nickname alone drives Gojo crazy. He fists the sheets below him, jaw slack, a dazed look in his eyes. “We’ll make a deal, yeah? I’ll let you cum and do this as many times as you want as long as you do my chem work for me.” You smile, holding your tits tighter. “Deal?”

“Ok, ok, ok.” He ferociously nodded, biting down on his bottom lip. “I wanna cum so badly, please.” He let out a ragged breath, falling back on the bed as his body began twitching, hips jolting upward to create more friction. Just in mere seconds, ropes of sticky, hot cum shot up, landing on your tits. “Shit, shit! Ah, ah, nngh!” Gojo’s eyes rolled back. This feels like the most he’s ever came in his life. His legs began to shake the longer his orgasm lasts, groans and whimpers escaping his throat, filling the small room. His raspy breaths fall short, finally coming down from his high. He can barely even think straight now.

“God, you made such a mess!” You huff, looking down at your coated tits.

“Oh, uh—I’m sorry!” Gojo quickly sits up, panicking as he searches around for something to help you clean up. He swiftly hands you one of his shirts, handing it to you. You snatch it from his hands, wiping up every last drop of cum before tossing his shirt to the side. “Are you…um—”

“I gotta go.” You stand up, buttoning your shirt. “Thanks for agreeing to the deal.” You lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Gojo watches as you leave his dorm room without a care in the world, acting like you didn’t just milk him dry with your tits. At least he has something to look forward to every few days now.

[kthologue]

then and now — gojo satoru

synopsis. only satoru gojo would be jealous of himself.

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, mentions of pregnancy, time travel inaccuracies probably, not proofread :x

you’re not quite sure how you ended up here.

one minute, you were curled up in bed, fighting a wave of nausea courtesy of the growing child of the strongest inside of you. the next, you were wandering toward the kitchen, wondering what was taking your husband so long to bring you the damn breakfast he promised — only to find him standing rigid in front of the stove, staring down…

himself.

you blink.

twice.

“satoru, what’s taking so long—”

your voice dies in your throat the second your eyes land on him. no — not him, but a younger, wide-eyed, hopelessly awe-struck version of him. standing in your kitchen, mouth parted, face pale, and gaze locked entirely on you.

you freeze.

he stares.

you stare back.

and then—oh no—he starts to smile. bright. dopey. disbelieving. there might actually be drool.

the younger gojo looks at you like you’re made of stars and everything he’s ever wanted in life, and you’re only in your husband’s oversized tee shirt. 

he looks like he’s about to fall in love with you on the spot.

then comes your gojo.

he appears behind you like summoned by jealousy itself, pressing flush against your back, arms encircling you. his chin hooks over your shoulder as he narrows his eyes at his teenage self with all the warning.

“oi,” your husband growls low, “eyes off my wife, you brat.”

the trance breaks instantly.

“what the hell—she’s my wife too!” younger gojo snaps, voice cracking in disbelief.

“like hell she is,” your husband shoots back, his hand sliding possessively down to cradle the swell of your belly. “i put a baby in her.”

you choke on air.

teen gojo’s eyes drop down—

—and bug out.the younger gojo is practically gaping, his eyes wide in disbelief, as he stares between you and your husband. "y-you let this man impregnate you?!" he blurts out, the crudeness making you flush with heat.

you feel the immediate rush of embarrassment. “i—how— satoru, explain.”

both of them whip their heads around at the mention of his name, as if they were no more than dogs waiting for a command.

your husband rubs your back, “i guess my younger self must have managed to travel to the future.”

you’re gaping at the two men.

the younger version of him is practically wagging his tail, a wide grin tugging at his lips like he’s just won first place in something that actually mattered. he looks completely lost in his own world to understand his future self’s subtle jab, and you could swear you hear him whispering under his breath, breathless and giddy—“i did it, i did it, i did it.”

“ah,” you slowly try to rationalize. “satoru, i know this might seem strange, but—”

“no, no,” your husband cuts you off with a tight squeeze around your waist, leaning slightly into you. “i’m satoru. he’s just gojo.” his tone makes it clear who he thinks should have the honor of the name, but his attention never leaves his younger self, and the muscles in his jaw are flexing.

the younger gojo squints, confused, then his face contorts with a mix of irritation and amusement. “since when did i become so uptight?”

your husband snorts. "yeah, well, you have a lot of growing up to do."

the younger gojo mutters, crossing his arms and leaning back, his posture almost defensive. "i get it. you put on the blindfold and suddenly you're mr. 'i've got it all figured out.'"

the tension in the room thickens, palpable between the two men.

"yeah," the older gojo retorts, voice steady but tinged with a bit of pride. "and i also got the girl of my dreams."

the younger gojo’s eyes narrow, his voice rising, "she’s my dream girl too!"

the older gojo shifts, locking his gaze on his younger self. his expression hardens, becoming a little sharper. "she’s my wife. not yours."

you sigh, exasperated, stepping between them. “oh, for heaven’s sake. you’re both the same person. you’re arguing with yourself.”

younger gojo leans forward slightly, eyes fixed on you. “i could love you just as much as he does, you know.”

your husband scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “please. you don’t even know what to do with her yet.”

“try me.”

“enough!” you snap, your glare cutting through the air like a blade. there’s no mistaking the warning in your eyes, a silent promise that things are about to escalate if they don’t stop.

both satorus fall silent in an instant as they both straighten at your words.

“me and the baby are starving,” you declare, your tone laced with a hint of challenge. “and if neither of you plans on helping, i guess i’ll have to do it myself.”

the younger satoru’s eyes flicker to your growing belly, then back to you.

in an instant, they’re both at your side, moving in synchrony like two halves of a whole, each hand hovering near you, as if they could protect you from something, but you know the truth. it’s not about protection. it’s about proximity—about the excuse to touch you.

“you know,” the younger satoru murmurs, a playful glint in his eyes, “you’re even more beautiful now. who would've thought you could get hotter?”

your breath catches at the unexpected compliment, and before you can stop it, your cheeks flush, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the heat of the room. “t-thank you,” you mutter, not quite looking at him, trying to hide the effect his words have on you.

your husband, who’s been standing just behind you, makes no attempt to hide his irritation. his gaze sharpens, but his voice remains smooth, controlled—too controlled. “it’s no surprise, of course,” he says, his hand sliding around your waist in a possessive gesture, pulling you a little closer, a subtle but undeniable claim. “you’ve always been breathtaking. she’s glowing, don’t you think?”

you feel his lips brush against your temple as he says it, and though his words are directed at the younger satoru, they’re meant for you—just the two of you, wrapped in this small, intimate moment. his grip tightens ever so slightly, a silent declaration of ownership that you can feel in your bones.

“thank you, dear,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, but there’s a flicker in your chest that betrays you—something more than just appreciation for the compliment.

as you open the fridge, you don’t notice the younger gojo’s subtle frown at the pet name, nor the way your husband’s chest puffs just a little, satisfaction practically radiating off him. but you do feel it. the electricity. the unspoken challenge. and you can’t help but wonder which of them will break first.

the clink of chopsticks and the sound of your satisfied hums fill the room as the three of you eat breakfast, the tension at the table simmering beneath the surface. the younger gojo eyes the older version of himself from across the table, suspicion flickering behind his sharp gaze.

he sets his bowl down slowly.

“so tell me,” he says finally, chopsticks tapping against ceramic. “how’d you do it?”

the older gojo raises a brow. “do what?”

younger gojo tilts his head pointedly in your direction. “get her. my [name] doesn’t want to do anything with me.”

your husband doesn’t miss a beat. he smirks, annoyingly smug, and drapes his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side like a trophy. “i charmed the living daylights out of her. obviously.”

you give him a flat look. 

your husband ignores you. “she thought i was endearing.”

“i thought you were desperate,” you add with a sly smile.

he turns toward you, hand over his heart like he’s been shot. “desperation? is that what we’re calling devotion now?”

“you were on both knees when you proposed,” you point out, smug.

“i really wanted you to say yes,” he mutters, now clearly sulking. he stabs at his food like it personally offended him.

across the table, the younger gojo leans in, chin propped in one hand as he watches the two of you. there's something soft in his eyes now, envy tempered with awe. 

“don’t listen to him,” you say with a playful smile, your gaze softening as you turn to your husband. “i only gave you a chance when i realized how big your heart is. how much you really care. your dedication to reshaping jujutsu society—that’s what made me see you weren’t just a nuisance.”

both gojo's eyes widen in shock, clearly not expecting that.

your husband, though, pouts, his usual smugness replaced with playful mock hurt.

“aww~” he whines, a teasing lilt to his voice. “i think you’ve got a little crush on me!”

you narrow your eyes, a warning simmering beneath your words. “satoru, i’m about to bite your head off.”

he grins, leaning in with that signature mischief. “don’t threaten me with a good time.”

the younger gojo’s eyes dart between the two of you. perhaps his future wasn’t too bad.

[elieenaliak]

You didn’t mean to hit him. You really didn’t.

You were just trying to push him back playfully, hands on his chest as he teased you relentlessly, grinning like a devil. But he leaned forward at the exact wrong moment, and your palm connected—not with his shoulder, but squarely with his face.

There was a sickening little “thump.”

Then silence.

“Oh my god—Xavier!” you gasped, rushing to him as he stumbled back, hand instinctively flying to his nose. “I didn’t mean—Are you okay? I’m so sorry—Xavier, shit, you’re bleeding—”

Panic flared in your chest as you reached for him, trying to tip his head back, your hands fluttering uselessly. “I didn’t think—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I swear I wasn’t trying to—”

But then he looked up at you.

And smiled.

That lopsided, heat-slicked grin that melted your words right off your tongue. His nose was bleeding, face flushed, but his eyes—half-lidded, dazed, hungry—locked on yours like you were the most intoxicating thing he’d ever seen.

“Oh...wow..” he murmured, almost in awe. “that was…”

He licked a drop of blood from his upper lip, and his smile deepened, that dazed, turned-on look spreading across his face. “That was really hot...”

Your jaw dropped, he can not be for real right now...right??Maybe you accidently gave him concussion too, he is probably deluded from pain an—

He tilted his head slightly, his hair sticking to his damp forehead, and that pleased, breathless grin widened. “You get so worked up when you’re worried,” he murmured, leaning forward, and you couldn’t tell if the tremble in your hands was from guilt or the way he was suddenly looking at you like that.

“…You gonna kiss it better?”

Saw this piece of a masterpiece by juyo (in tumblr @stardustdusting) and had to get out of bed at 5 am to write about this. (JUST LOOK AT HIM GAWWD)

@uzmacchiato dividers!

[tonycries]

So Lonely In My Mansion!

Synopsis. When he’s sorry, what better way to show you than in bed?

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, apology séx, spítting, bodyworshíp, stuff with pantíes, bréeding, chokíng, cúmplay, Nanami and Geto are a bit mean, squírting, thígh séx, Gojo’s blindfold, overstím, oral (female receiving), pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. Hope y’all are having a lovely day <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Too full!

Now, Toji knows he’ll more than make up for forgetting to join your lil’ shopping spree anyway. Ten times over, in fact, with the way he has you on all fours, tears rolling down your cheeks, pretty lil’ moans muffled into your pillow. 

Stuffing your poor cunt full over and over and-

“Is my pretty baby still mad?” he’s dragging his lips down your neck, throbbing cock ramming into you from behind. Bruising - like he was the one angry here. “Still fuckin’ pouty?”

Too needy, too delirious. It’s all you can do to grit out a determined, “Y-yes…” Your breathless gasps only make his smirk widen, hips stuttering as they get sloppier.

“Aww, what a shame.” Toji coos, angling his head just right to catch the heavenly sight of your poor overfilled pussy, all dripping and painted white with his cum. Eyes lighting up at how you gush around him with each thrust. “Guess I jus’ have to give you another one then, hm?”

“A-another?”

And God, Toji doesn’t even know if he can cum again - vision spotty now, jolts of electricity running down his spine each time he plunges into your snug pussy. 

But the way you’re immediately scrambling to hold onto the headboard - the sheets - just anything to hold onto some semblance of sanity has Toji wanting to more than ever. So painfully good as he desperately speeds up. He needs to - and fuck if he wasn’t going to try - because you’re only getting wetter at his words. 

“Fuck- squeezin’ me s’fucking tight.” he groans, pushing your skirt up higher, not having the patience to even think of taking that damn thing off. “Ya like this, huh? Like me f-filling you up until m’sorry?”

You can only give him such a delirious little nod, one that Toji doesn’t even know if you realize you’re giving. One that has him needing to show you how sorry he is by filling you up so much you can’t even think about how he forgot to accompany you on your lil’ shopping spree. To fuck you so hard into the mattress that you can’t remember anything else but him-

“Toji!” you keen, as he snakes down his strong arms push your legs further apart to show off. Burning at the stretch of how he was handling you like his favorite ragdoll. “What-”

“Said m- ngh- sorry.” he interrupts abruptly, voice so ragged that it takes you a second to even recognize it as your boyfriend. “See.”

And how could you not? 

You were awe-struck at that creamy ring around the base of his swollen cock. The way your gummy walls were sucking him up so easily, fucking back bruisingly into him. 

“See how sorry I am?” One hand tightens on your hips, the other snaking up to press down on your lower stomach. Hard. “See?” Both your jaws fall open at the way your ravaged pussy just coats Toji’s cock in such an obscene white mess. “Sorry, doll, shoulda been there for you.”

“Oh- fuck, s’too much.” And maybe you’re stubborn, maybe you just don’t know what’s good for you - because despite it all you manage to choke out, “N’ you don’t ah- mean it.”

Eyes raising to meet his and oh- oh, you weren’t making it out alive. 

“I do.” Toji drops his head into your neck, running his mouth. Rolling his thumb against your achingly clit as if to prove his point, “Next time m’gonna hah- watch you try on all those pretty outfits.” Hips rocking forward to slam into your sloppy pussy faster and faster. “Kiss you s-senseless in front of any fuckin’ scrubs that thought they had a ngh- chance.”

Movements only growing more erratic - more feral - with each broken little whine that’s fucked out of you. Like he knew he was so close to breaking you. Ruining you. 

Just the thought of it has Toji slamming his dick into you further, mentally cursing himself for forgetting your little invitation today. 

“And this lil’ thing?” he bunches up the flimsy fabric of your skirt. “And those-” nodding his head towards the stacks of shopping bags you barely got to look over before a sorry Toji had you shoved onto the bed. “I would’ve taken em’ all off as soon as I was in that changing stall.”

“I-I get it.” you finally break. Squealing at the hips hitting yours harder, his heavy balls squeezing so painfully. “I get it ngh- I get it-”

“Heh, nah- gotta show you how s-sorry I really am.”

You have an inkling of what he was implying - something that didn’t bode well for your abused cunt, if the way Toji’s cock was twitching wildly inside you was anything to go by. Not a moment wasted before Toji’s pushing your knees up all the way until they were at your tits. A sure sign that he was close. Looking like he was in such delicious agony as he taunted you into asking. 

“H-how?” 

“By fuckin’ you in all of that.” Head tilting at the bags upon bags from earlier today, “Then we’re goin’ shopping all over again.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Squirt if you’re sorry

“Keep your legs open f’me.”

But it was so hard when Nanami already had you spread so shamefully in front of that obscene mirror, placed oh-so conveniently right in front of the plush hotel bed. Sat so prettily on his lap, your back against his hard front, being split-apart on his throbbing cock. 

Any more and you think you might just die. 

“Is that so?” he whispers hotly in your ear and- “Think this is too much?”

Oh, shit, did you say that out loud?

But right now you were too delirious - to fucked-out - to even think of forming a coherent response to that, let alone be embarrassed about your little slip-up. Running solely on the aftershocks of your nth orgasm and the feeling of Nanami’s thumb drawing steady, slow little circles on your sensitive clit. 

“Get it together now, my love.” your husband seems to decide that your broken whine speak for themselves. Placing such a mockingly gentle kiss on your forehead, “M’still not even halfway through my apology.”

Ah, yes, the apology - the sole thing that got you into this entire mess. That one off-hand joke that Nanami should apologize for being 7 minutes late for your date - the one that had you shoved into the nearest suite, while he ‘apologizes’ to you over and over and-

“Now now, darling.” Nanami squishes your cheeks together into a pathetic pout, forcing you to look up at the mirror. “Look at me when I apologize.”

Several things happen at once - your eyes just barely make contact with Nanami’s darkened, dangerous ones in the mirror, and then it’s like something snapped. Because he’s thrusting up deeper into your snug cunt, drinking in all your pretty gasps as he starts up at another relentless, sloppy pace. 

Not even fucking easing you into it because you wanted an apology, right? And Nanami was sure going to give you one - fuck you like he’s sorry.

“M’sorry!” you keen, bucking wildly into Nanami’s touch. Cock so hot and heavy in-between your swollen folds - still not having came even once yet. “Was- was a joke- I can’t oh- my god.”

He knows - oh, how he knows. But it’s just so fun to tease you this way, and Nanami’s not sorry about that one bit. 

So he only lets out a huffed laugh. “Why are you sorry, my love?” Shifting his hips to massage all the right spots that’ll have you breathless and seeing stars. Hitting that one magical spot over and over. “I was the one that’s late.”

And God, you could just cry. You are - big, fat tears streaming down your face, dripping down Nanami’s wrist where he was holding your lolling head steady - but, of course, you’re too far gone to even realize at this point.

“Shhhh, lemme take care of you,” Nanami rocks his hips impossibly harder into yours, eyes on the mirror just devouring you almost as much as he was ruining you with his dick. Watching all your adorable gasps, the way you twitch, how your mouth drops into a soft oh! as he licks a slow stripe up your tears. Dangerous. “Lemme show you how sorry I am.”

And he does, cooing at how your eyes widen when he angles your head to show you the fucking sinful view down below. 

It was so hard to look too, how your snug cunt was trying to suck the soul out of him. Sloppy - making such a mess of the crisp sheets below. Quivering like you didn’t know whether you wanted to run away or to sink down for more more more-

You’re jolting in his bruising grasp, “Hngh- m’- fuck fuck fuck. Yes, oh my god- Ken-”

“Yeah? Ya like this?” He’s fucking you back rougher into him, merciless. Absolutely fucking merciless - and Nanami was only glad he thought to choose a sound-proof suite. “Think m’sorry yet?” Biting down on your neck, hard. “Because I’m sooo fucking sorry, my love.”

He lets out a cruel chuckle, one hand groping down your breasts - your hips - your thighs. Pulling them even further apart like he wanted to break you. 

Because Nanami wasn’t fucking sorry, why would he be? But oh how he loved teasing you. Acting all pissed off while he threw you around like his favorite toy, giving you a bit of your own medicine. How sexy you were when he did. 

“M’sorry.” he breathes against your ear, nibbling on your lobe. “M’sorry m’sorry m’sorry- Next time I’ll be hah- early-” Pooling the fresh wave of your salty tears on his tongue as he toys with your pretty clit. “N’ next time m’gonna make you squirt the first time-”

“Shit- Ken, m’cumming m’cumming-”

Almost like your body is listening to Nanami, you’re squirting all over his achingly hard cock. Absolutely drenching him in all your sweet sweet juices till he was glistening in the dim lighting. Some specks even landing on the mirror in front of you. 

And shit you’re out of control now, limbs trembling, such sinful moans leaving your swollen lips. Loud. Uncontrollable. Nanami’s next words barely audible over them-

“Your turn now.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Nice (and sorry)

“S-so mean-” It’s the only thing you can gasp out, “Y-you’re still not forgiven-” 

Oh, Geto knows. And he doesn’t really feel bad about using his apology to his advantage - not one bit, actually. You won’t hear a word of apology from his sly mouth, instead, he’s got you straddling his pretty lips, breathless and shaking above him. 

“Even when m’being nicer than usual?~” he hums into your clothed pussy, nose-deep and breathing in your essence so fucking sinfully. “Ya sure about that?”

Disgruntled, “What- ngh- what do you mean?” 

“Oh just that-” He licks a long, purposeful stripe up your drenched panties, adding to the mess of your juices beading through the fabric. And God it takes everything in Geto to not just rip off that flimsy underwear and tonguefuck you like he wanted to. “You’re being so loud. Sure you’re still mad?”

You hated it - how he was peeking up at you with those hooded eyes, pupils blown. Hated that predatory glint in them that sends shockwaves right down to your very core. Hated how he was right.

“Th-that doesn’t hah- mean anything.” you scoff, and the excuse sounds flimsy even to you. The way you were grinding down deeper onto his tongue certainly not helping your case either. 

And oh of course Geto pulls away at that, obscene little slicks of string snapping from his tongue and your wet core, your disappointed whine going straight to his rock-hard cock. What was it you were saying earlier? Something about him being too much of a tease? Well, you were about to eat your words before Geto Suguru offered you an apology. 

“Yeah,” he let his tongue dart out, letting your slick pool through your panties and onto his tongue. “N’ this doesn’t mean anything either, huh?”

No warning before he’s surging forward, tongue pushing through your panties to just barely tease your sloppy entrance.

You can only grip at Geto’s long, inky locks - trying your very best to not look like you’re absolutely on cloud nine as he alternates between toying with that first ring of resistance and sucking on your clit. All through your panties.

“Now now,” a hand on your hip stops you from all but ripping your panties off your hips - something that Geto would’ve already done by now, usually. “Keep ‘em on.”

It’s like he’s trying to drive you mad - wants to drive you mad. Torturing you slowly with that soft tongue and that smirk you can feel against your dripping cunt. As if to say - you really think he was a tease before? You haven’t seen the least of it. 

“S’fuckin’ sloppy f’me even through these slutty panties.” he grunts, lips smacking against your swollen ones. “Don’ lie - you like this, huh? Like what a tease I am? Acting so tough when m’so sorry?”

Okay, maybe Geto lied - so what if he said he’s sorry? It was all worth it at how you get so wetter, slick just glistening all over his lips and chin. Walls clenching around nothing - because might’ve said sorry, but oh is he still as petty as ever.

“N-no-” you whimper, and both of you know it’s a lie. Close - you were so close. 

Too close, if you asked Geto.

Smack!

A quick, sharp sting on your ass - just a little reminder that this is Geto. Your Geto. And it’s so torturous - so addictive - when he immediately shifts them ever-so-slightly. Wasting no time before lapping at your juices. Just loving the way your jaw drops open in disbelief as he throws his head back to let it slide down, down, down his throat.

“My girl is such a liar.” Grinning at the way you jolt on top of him with each teasing lick at your quivering hole, dragging your slopppy pussy all over his face. “S’fuckin’ wet and you still think you’re mad? And I’m being so-” Rolling his tongue against your clit. Hard. “-nice, too.” 

He was not - he knew it. In fact, he was probably being meaner than usual. Mean with the way he thinks your fucked-out head shake speaks enough. 

Of course, you still have to run your mouth when you’re being absolutely ruined by him. Whining out an unconvincing. “M’still- m-mad.” - even when you’re deliriously riding his pretty mouth.

Without a word, Geto snaps back your useless panties back in place. One hand on your hip, easily lifting you off his face - letting you fall back prettily onto his lap as he gets up. Weeping tip just nudging your dripping entrance as he reaches behind to tie back his long hair.

And you’re so disappointed at how you were so close, that you almost miss the words that spill from his mouth next.

“Then, will you still be mad if I fuck you just as nicely?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Ruined panties?!

“Please baby, let me put it in. Please?” 

God, how badly you wanted to just break and give your needy boyfriend exactly what he wants - to let him fuck you how he wanted. But, no, he’d just ruined your favorite pair of underwear and you were not going to let him off so easily again. 

“Fuck- Cho.” you huff, fighting to keep your voice steady. “If y’wanna get off to my panties so bad, then ngh- just use that.”

“But, baby. M’sorry.” Choso’s head drops to the crook of your neck, abs rubbing up against your back so sinfully from where he was all pressed up. “I’ll be good this time. So good.” Hands groping underneath your t-shirt, throbbing erection grinding against your absolutely drenched panties. From Choso’s precum or your own slick? You have no idea. “Please?”

And he’s so desperate that Choso probably doesn’t even realize the way he’s sliding his soaked cock between your swollen folds. Fucking his hips forwards languidly, hissing at how dripping wet you already were.

“T-this is being ‘good’?” you gasp at the feeling of his dick, so hot and heavy where you needed him the most. And it’s such a sinful little sound that he immediately snakes a hand down to toy with your throbbing clit - wanting, needing more of it. 

“Yes.” nibbling down your neck. It’s like a dam has been broken with each cute little whine escaping your throat. “Yes yes yes yes- Wan’ this so bad. Please.” 

Your angry facade is crumbling away bit by bit - and both of you know it. Especially when Choso cranes his head until it’s mere inches away from yours. Dark strands of hair tickle your face as he catches your lips in such a searing kiss.

“Oh god.” he groans into your lips, hips stuttering forward in-between your thighs. Precum smearing everywhere and adding to the mess already down below. “Yeah- kiss me properly, baby. I deserve at least that, hm?”

A resounding rip! of fabric sounds down from below. And you don’t know what you break the kiss to say - to tease him some more? Beg him to just fuck you the way you know he wants? 

But it doesn’t matter, because as soon as Choso feels your lips leaving his, he’s chasing after them again with a pained grunt. Licking so sloppily at the seam of your lips, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you deeper onto his cock.

“No- no no no, kiss me.” You can feel his prominent veins rubbing up against you, throbbing in a lewd little thump! thump! thump! as his hips get more calculated. Purposeful. “M’sorry m’sorry, Kiss me ngh- kiss me- need it. Need you-”

And God you should’ve known that Choso wouldn’t be acting this good for so long. 

No sooner are you grinding back down on him in shallow, mindless little motions - he’s pulling your panties to the side just enough for his weeping tip to drag lazily against your folds. 

“Fuck- please, baby.” He sounds so wrecked already - and looks like it just as much. Skin flushed, eyes hazy and miles away, kiss-bitten lips letting out such sinful little moans that you just know he’ll be embarrassed about later. “M’sorry.”

Panties completely soiled with precum and slick, absolutely ruined in just the way you’d been telling off Choso for not too long ago. Nothing but a slightly tattered, dripping wet mess. What a shame.

What a shame you couldn’t care less.

Scoffing, “F-fine.” But it comes out a bit more breathless than you intended - because Choso’s desperation was contagious. Hands everywhere, chest heaving, fat head pulsing right below your sloppy entrance. “Only this time m’ngh- l-letting you off easy.”

You know it won’t be the last time - and your boyfriend does, too. 

Because he doesn’t waste a second. The sentence barely leaving your mouth before Choso’s sinking into your heavenly pussy inch by fucking inch. Brows scrunching together at the way you were sucking the soul out of him, neat fingernails on your hips as he holds you still. 

“G-god- so fucking- good. So tight-” he hisses lowly, thrusting in shallow, mindless little movements just to squeeze inside your walls. “Ah- feel so much better than any panties.” 

“S-so needy, Cho-”

“I know, m’sorry, m’sorry. Hah-” So fucking massive that it feels like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. The stretch too sinful, your panties too soaked, breath too hot against your ear as he whispers.“F-fuck- Now, be good f’me, hm?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - “No more tears.”

“Shut up.” you flinch as he spits on your cunt once. Twice. Feeling like such a fucking toy as he smears it with the mess of your sweet juices down below. “How dare you use those evil, evil tears.”

Why would the great Ryomen Sukuna ever apologize? Why would he ever have you sat on his throne, big arms spreading your legs so sinfully in front of him? Just ravaging your poor abused cunt with his swollen cock. The complete opposite of his image as the merciless king of curses. 

Well, that’s exactly what was happening. And it turns out that only a few tears and a single huff of him “not spending enough time” with you today was all it took - to have him bowing down to you. 

And all you can do is let out a broken, “I-I didn’t.” 

And that only seems to spur Sukuna further, like he was angry more than anything. Angry at you for being so cute and pouty when you’re mad. Angry at himself for letting his pretty lil’ human get this way. Spoiled, so spoiled. 

“Liar.”  he grunts, spreading your swollen folds further apart with his index - just circling your sloppy hole. “The only time you’re s’pposed to be cryin’ is on my fingers. And-” he slides his angry, weeping tip down your cunt in a long, wet movement. Up and down. Up and down. Smirking at how you’re bucking and pleading under his touch. “-my cock.”

As if to prove his point, Sukuna’s dipping his cock past that first feeble ring of resistance - difficult, with how you’re clenching around him so sinfully as if you’re trying to milk him already.

“Yeah, jus’ like that.” he groans, thumb rubbing obscene little circles on your poor clit. “Suckin’ me up so good. Do y’get sluttier when you’re mad? When you’re makin’ me apologise?”

“Ngh- sh-shut up.”

And oh for how suave Sukuna’s acting, he can’t deny the way his heart squeezes so dangerously at the way you’re letting out delirious little moans. Fucking you so completely dumb. 

And he was barely halfway in still.

Legs spreading obscenely wider, clawing onto the chair - his wrist - his shoulders, just anything to help drag your sloppy pussy all over his toned pelvis. To fuck him deeper. 

“Heh, cryin’ like you want me to be like this.” He’s rocking his hips in jagged, shallow thrusts that have you letting out such teary moans. “Want me to fuckin’ apologise?” Hard enough that you know it’ll leave marks - his heavy balls on your ass, fingers on your clit, hands spreading your calves. “Well m’sorry, see? M’so so sorry, brat.”

You gasp, “S-so mean, Kuna- hngh-

Yet he sounds anything but. Tone way too fucking delighted at the prospect of having you crying on his thick cock than over some stupid little argument. 

And fuck, Sukuna should tease you about how fucking wet you are, how you’re grinding your hips down on him like such a slut. So sloppy all over the expensive throne - gonna be a hell of a job for whoever cleans this. 

But, ah, those pretty lil’ tears welling up in your eyes will surely be the death of him. Or maybe the death of you.

“Now now,” he can’t help but huff out a dark chuckle at your disappointed whine as he pulls his fingers away from your throbbing clit. Biting back a deep groan at how glossy they were, just drenched in all of you. “No more cryin’. Told ya I’m sorry, didn’t I?”

And Sukuna meant it.

Because, immediately, he’s shoving two fingers into your mouth. All the blood in his body just rushing to his cock at how filthily you were gagging at the intrusion. 

At the same time, reeling his hips back to let himself fuck your tight pussy to the hilt. Rolling his hips forward, all the way until his fat head just kissed your cervix - nothing at all like the almost-gentle little grinds from before. 

Eyes widening when he presses right at the back of your throat - exactly where he knew would draw out the prettiest noises from you. Like he was pushing all the way into your lungs. To the back of your throat. Too much. 

You’re just as shocked as Sukuna when you cum from just this. Pathetic little moans muffled and slurring together. Jolts of white-hot pleasure going all the way from his fingers in your mouth to your sloppy cunt, fluttering so obscenely around his cock.

God, you were perfect. 

“Oh?” he’s chuckling over your delirious little blubbers, “Well, whaddaya know. M’gonna have to get you to give me more of those tears, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Show you!

When the bouquets and the expensive chocolates don’t work, what else is Gojo to do other than let you tie him up with his blindfold and ride him to insanity? Both a punishment to himself and an apology, of course.

“Sweetheart- fuck!” Gojo groans, hips bucking up to shove his swollen cock deeper into your sloppy pussy. “You’re killin’ me, shit shit shit-”

Nevermind that he doesn’t think he’s ever been harder at the sinful sight of you bouncing on his aching cock above him. 

“Sh-shut up, ngh- Toru.” you gasp, hands trembling on his sculpted chest as you claw for some sense of stability. Cunt so wet and dripping all the way down his thick cock as you fuck yourself on him like some toy. “T-talkin’ too fuckin’ much.”

Oh. how he wanted to ruin you like he could. 

And he’s letting out such a guttural whine, feet planting on the plush mattress to rock you harder - deeper - down his dick.“But, my girl~” Tugging on the blindfold, acting like it did anything to restrain him. “You’re being so hah- mean.”

“And why’s that?” you scoff, undeterred by those long lashes batting innocently up at you. “You’re still- fuck- still not forgiven f-for crashing my hngh- girls night out, Toru.” 

“Still?”

“Still.”

Oh. Well, Gojo might as well just speed up this apology process before he loses his patience - and his sanity. Steadily dwindling away each time you slam your sloppy pussy down on him, with each trail of slick and precum smearing along his pelvis. 

And it’s so easy, too. 

RIP! 

Feeling like he’ll fucking explode, half-lucid mind barely even registering the way he easily tears through that flimsy blindfold, the fabric absolutely nothing against the way Gojo is running on pure need and the thought of you you you-

You can only squeal as his fingers immediately find your waist, gripping so hard you wondered whether it would bruise. “Toru- didn’t you say m- ngh- t-takin’ control?” 

“Change of plans.” Is all Gojo grunts out. Lifting your hips so effortlessly up, up, up - only to ram you down on his rock-hard cock with no warning. Filling you up completely - no more of those teasing little grinds and shallow thrusts you were torturing him with. No, Gojo Satoru was well and fully intent on fucking his apology into you. And he says so, of course. “F-fuck m’sorry. Gonna fuck it into this pretty ngh- cunt. M’sorry.”

“Oh- You’re so deep, Toru- hngh.” you whine, fully letting your boyfriend rock his hips up into yours like his favorite sextoy. “C-can feel you deep inside here-”

And oh Gojo thinks he could cum right then and there as you trail down a hand to press on your stomach, right where his weeping tip was massaging all your sweet spots. Stretching you out so sinfully. 

“You little minx.” he huffs out a disbelieving laugh, eyes narrowing at your obscenely fucked-out state. “Now m’not sorry.” 

“W-wha-” He shuts you up with a quick circle on your pulsing clit, toying with the sensitive nub as he runs his mouth instead. 

“M’not sorry I crashed that hah- lil’ hangout.” Hips so harsh against yours, forcing you to feel every dip and curve of Gojo’s muscled body. “Not sorry I ngh- fuck introduced myself to that fuckin’ loser of a waiter that was ah- eyeing you up. Not sorry that I get to fuck you like this afterward.”

And it’s true - Gojo didn’t sound the least bit remorseful about anything he did. Confidence only growing more and more with each pathetic little moan that leaves your swollen lips in agreement. 

You’re shaking on top of him, the stimulation too much. “Shit- you’re such a smug- bastard, Toru.”

“Don’ act like y-you don’t like this, sweetheart.” he pulls your head down to catch your lips with his. Barely - just a mess of teeth and saliva and words he’s hissing out, “Jus like you’re -fuck fuck fuck s’too good- acting to be mad with me.” Each word punctuated with a harsh, sloppy jab of his hips that have the breath leaving your lungs. “Mad with how ngh- you’ve got the s-strongest groveling at your fuck- feet.” Movements getting faster. Deeper. “M’forgiven r-right?”

Your voice strained as you whisper against his lips, “Kiss me properly, Toru.”

And he is - kissing you like he’s so sorry as the both of you reach your highs. Stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Your gummy walls milking the fucking soul out of Gojo as he cums in thick, hot spurts. Painting your walls a lewd little white that trickles down you shaking thighs. Over and over and-

So, so sloppy. Arms looping around your waist to hold your hips still. Muffling his deep moans into your mouth as his hips slow down only ever-so-slightly, pumping you full of his seed. And it’s almost…sweet.

If only it hadn’t been for the words that leave him as soon as he parts, of course. 

“Hey, now that we had apology sex, can we have regular sex, too?”

“...”

A/N. PSA don’t work out relationship stuff like this hehe.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[screampied]

‘ THIS AIN’T FICTION, BABY! (it is kinda..) ★

☆ sum. jjk men finding out you write jaw dropping smut. boo you whore. can you even do half the things you write about? well . .

warnings. fem! reader, feat. gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna, breaking the forth wall kekw, smut writer reader, unprotected, dirty talk, praise, squırting, manhandling, cuńnilingus, whiny men, cockwarming, daddy kink, overstim, spıt, impact play, breaking the bed, bréeding, size kinks.

GOJO ☆

“oooooh,” a husky low voice coos right next to your ear. hot breath ghosts against the tiny hairs that stand tall near the back of your neck. you bit your lip whilst you’re in the midst of being stuffed full of cock. just plain evil . . satoru’s got you cockwarming him while a fat thumb of his skims down your phone. “let’s see. gojo smut, gojo satoru x reader, hey that’s me, heh,” and he pauses, a snowy brow raising up in daze once he sees your user displayed in bold near the very top of the search bar. “cockwarming gojo, how fitting, angel.”

“toru, fuck,” you whine, making a cute attempt at trying to snatch your phone away. weakly pawing at his wrist, he holds it up even higher. you gasp, feeling his swollen tip swivel its way deeper inside your cunt. “don’t read it,” you fall back into his chest, moaning once he starts to purposely bounce his thigh. embarrassment had you hot, you could practically feel your heartbeat accelerating by the minute. “ ‘s embarrassing.”

satoru squints, resuming to scroll down the glowing screen before a free hand of his trails toward your pussy. he hums, “aw, pretty girl’s got a hobby i didn’t even know of, hm. here, you say ‘he’s got you right on his lap, suppressing a moan with your teeth dug into the bottom of your lip as you’re taking him fully. .’ such nasty literature,” and the edges of your nails pierce into his pants leg. the half on long black slacks that satoru wore were merely all ruffled and ragged thanks to your pretty fingernails tugging at it with all its might. as he continues to read, you’re whining, desperate to move, desperate for at least some kind of friction. as you’re squirming on his lap, satoru’s eye then twitches. “ ‘gojo satoru also would whine in bed?’ this has to be a typo. .”

and of course, his ego gets bruised.

the pout on satoru’s face was adorable. as you’re trying to sturdy your hips, he buries his face into your chest. “mmph,” he’s shoved right between the softness of your tits, his personal happy place.

although—he had to admit, he was flattered that you wrote such lewd compositions about him. you moan as you’re grinding against him, feeling his achy cock slam into you deep within each wet bounce. satoru makes a mess as he’s buried between your plush mounds, remnants of stringy saliva dribbling down the valley of your chest. pretty, his white lashes flutter as you’re quickening your hip movements and he gasps. “oh, f- fuck, angel. ‘s no fair when you ride me like thaaat.”

and you can’t help but giggle—despite your cock drunken state, he’s still got that little glower of a pout on his lips as you’re rutting into him.

satoru’s clenched abs flex more the second you run a finger down the sharp outline of his pecs, watching him immediately fold at your touch. “but you always whine, ‘toru,” you argue in a shivering voice, your cunt tightly squeezing around his length. his wide girth makes your mouth water, such thickness was just insane. you bury your unstable knees into the center of his thighs before his broad big arms wrap around you.

he’s holding you—almost squishing you.

but just like you wrote, satoru whines the second he ends up cumming early. with the way you ride him and the crazed speed of your hips, he never ever lasted long.

it was cute,

he was always confident until he’s buried deep inside your pussy, whining and sobbing pathetic cacophonies of your name at how good you feel clamping around him. it’s merry lukewarm, as he snaps, a puddle of thick syrupy cum shoots into you deep and he’s an entire frantic mess. pants of airy breath slip out of his pink lips as he’s giving you a fill, biting into your neck to hide his slutty whimpers. “god, ‘m gonna die,” he sniffles, squeezing pressure against your bare ass. you hold onto him tight as he’s pouring such slippery wads of seed into you at once—velvety hot amounts spit inside your pussy and you’re matching heavy gasps for air right with him, entirely in sync. “fuck, fuck baby, mommy.”

“what?”

“s- shut up,” he back tracks, and he sees the smug expression growing on your face. satoru lightly smacks a hand over his face before groaning, his cock all milked and flaccid. “i said baby.”

NANAMI ☆

tender mahongy eyes stare deep into your eyes as your fingers happily intertwine with his. tangled and curled, he’s got a soft grip as his body hovers completely over yours.

with ruffled blond strands running down the front of his forehead, nanami brings a kiss toward your cheek as he’s not just fucking you, but making love to you in missionary. “sweetheart, you left your laptop open you know,” and you moan once you feel his plump tip circle its way inside of your gummy inviting walls. already, you’re coating his entire dick with your slimy slick to the hilt. your eyes widen at his words before the left side of your twitching lip is met with another gentle kiss. “i didn’t mean to be nosy, but i saw a little ‘headcanon’ about me, is that what you call it?”

you glance into his eyes with abashed intent as a burning wave of heat sprays over your face. fuck, the pulse of your thumping heart only grew louder as your first response was utter silence.

“i—” you mutter out, and he chuckles at your lack of words, digging his head into your neck. nanami’s scent was strong, it goes through each of your nostrils and you felt yourself throbbing from his touch alone.

his strokes were tender and precise. he’s swaying back and forth as his bare body continues to rut straight into you. pent up muscles of his that were merely perfectly sculptured—identical to the physique of a greek god, you couldn’t help but stare. you just couldn’t help but ogle at how he’s so pretty, how fat tears of sweat race down both sides of his bulky arms. no one could blame you for writing about nanami, although—the things you wrote about him, they were pretty risqué to say the least. with a growing pout, your arms throw over his shoulders as he’s presenting your cunt blissful deep thrusts. “okay, i write about you sometimes, ‘ken. ‘m sorry.”

“sorry for what exactly? being talented, silly girl?” he whispers in a raspy tone.

nanami cups your chin so you could look right at him, naturally leaning into his touch. he focuses on the way your eyes soften and he’s plummeting girthy inches into you raw. your toes curl, running down his back and tickling the scratch marks that paint against his flushed skin. “don’t be sorry,” he adds, pressing a wet kiss near the crook of your neck. “i’m flattered. although, dirty talk isn’t exactly my forte. you know this, my love,” and you moan, feeling the edges of his teeth playfully nibble at your exposed flesh. as pounds of skin resume to smack against each other loudly, nanami slowly lifts up your leg, tossing it over your shoulder. “my favorite part had to be when you said i pulled on your hair ‘n called you a ‘messy whore’ .”

“y- you weren’t supposed to see that,” you nervously grin . . trying to avoid how you were so close to finishing. just a few more thrusts and that was it, you’d be finished, done for. you’ve felt embarrassed before—but never to this extent. he was teasing you, nanami kento was teasing you. and pathetically enough, your pussy twitched as he recited your exact filthy written words. the bed continues to creak and groan as jolting bodies move and move together, amongst each other, and on top of each other.

with kind eyes, nanami watches as you bring both of your hands up to your face, hoping to shield yourself from any more embarrassment.

“oh, honey,” he coos in a melodically low tone. his cock reached so deep that strangled moans flew out from your lips left and right. his tempo was always just right. he never wanted to lose control, but after reading your work, he knew you’d probably like that. crimson damp lips press under your chin before he grunts, preparing himself to be milked dry.

“hngh, don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he huffs, in a soft alluring voice. everything felt abnormally tender, nanami’s softly swerving his body against yours in irregular addictive arcs in such impassioned ardent. the more you stare into your eyes—the more your blown pupils dilate.

once he cup both sides of your face, you lean into his touch. his base was thick, swollen and full. you craved him more than anything, and it’s as if your words were actually coming to life.

“there she is, that’s my girl,” he grits in a raspy voice, prying your hands away from your face. his touch was forevermore gentle. with a soft smile, nanami presses his twitching ruby lips onto yours as you both prepare to cum in euphoric torrent. bedaubing a plump thumb over your bottom quivering lip, he slows his thrusts down a few beats—hearing you vocal pussy’s squelches before a wrinkle of a smile curls against his lips. “now, now. make a mess on your husband’s cock jus how you write them in your little stories, my love.”

GETO ☆

“oh, boo. looks like someone’s innocent all of a sudden when she’s not writing ‘bout dick, hm? wonder why that is,” geto hums, propped right up between your trembly legs. he’s staring at you with a sly smirk that refuses to wipe off his lips. two of his hands spread your thighs apart more before kissing near your slobbering exposed pussy.

with a cunning grin, he gives your drooling folds a few friendly taps as if it was a little mic test. “finish that paragraph. c’mon, wanna make sure ‘m doin’ it right.”

a salty taste of shame fills and salivates inside of your mouth as you watch him with heart shaped pupils. he’s got the most hungry gaze, a bit of spit already dribbling from the thin corners of his lips.

“um, okay,” you moan, picking up your phone again, leisurely dragging a thumb down the neatly typed paragraphs. “it says, ‘you whine, taking s-suguru’s thick fingers happily into your slippery cunt. long digits of his rummage their way inside before curling all around. once suguru spits on your p- pussy, he pats it and calls it a good girl.’ ”

“like this?” geto snickers—copying your exact words, using the flat palm of his hand to rub against your bare clit. you whimper, entirely sensitive as his thick digits toy with your soddened folds. your thighs continue to jostle and shake and he found it so adorable at how you just couldn’t stay still. so cute, he’s got darkened irises focused on you and only you the entire time. these seconds felt like hours, and as he gathers a nice amount of saliva, he spits right on your cunt. just like you wrote it . . you gasp at the sloppy cold saliva cascading down your pussy. the cobwebby strands that pour from his lips had such a pretty glimmer to it. the warm breath of geto that fans against your entrance makes you twitch in elated pleasure.

he’s so sloppy, unapologetically. just like your drabble said—he then pats your cunt with an open palm before leaning right up close, pulling a thumb down your pulsating uvula before licking it passionately. “good fuckin’ girl.”

you whine, your knees practically buckling and he’s just eating your expressions up. “y- yes— like that, fuck,” you move a few long black strands away from his face. geto dips two fingers inside and he stretches you out so easily with his digits. your lips form into a cute ‘o’ shape as you mewl out a desperate cry for more. as he’s watching you succumb into such bliss, he’s got such a pretty face. it makes his dick twitch in his sweats at the thought of you writing about how he goes down on you. the specifics, how sloppy he is, even how he spanks your cunt only to then shamelessly lick the slick mess right up with his tongue.

the thought that probably hundreds of your horny little readers read about this, about him, about his tongue . .

geto’s tongue was ruthless.

he lays it flat against your cunt before fluttering his long black lashes closed. he huskily groans, not even caring that you weren’t reading anymore. as his brows arch into a contorting furrow, he slides in two fat fingers. you whimper at the sudden big yet deliciously enthralling stretch, yanking roughly on his hair. “s . . sugu,” he pulls his slick covered fingers out, licking them clean whilst staring you right in the eyes. you tremor within his hold, feeling his palms tighten its grasp on both of your thighs. you couldn’t lie, this felt a lot better than fiction. so much better . .

he’s making out with your pussy, swirling his tongue around and spelling out all of the letters of his name. creating such a mess, your slick then starts to stream down his chin to which he happily licks it up. groaning, geto then slurps at your drenched hole before giving it yet another kiss. his chin had such luminescent shine to it. you cup his face with shaky hands as he’s eating you out through another orgasm and he jibes.

“mhm, your writing could use a bit more dirty talk though,” he critiques, swiping a thumb against his lips before he spanks your cunt for the umpteenth time.

with your legs sporadically quivering, he playfully bites on your clit, watching you squeal as you’re riding orgasm out on his tongue. “oh, and make sure you add in your little fics that i bite pretty clits too.”

CHOSO ☆

“bottom? w- what’s a bottom?”

choso quirks a brow in cute confusion, slouching back as you’re still getting over your most recent orgasm.

both pounds of sweltering skin melt into each other, sticking together like glue as your hips grow unsteady. choso was reading one of your published works and he can’t help but grow curious. the way you wrote about him, how you portrayed him as whiny and submissive, it does something to him—he personally always thought he was dominant. cute. .

“oh, don’t worry about that, baby,” you timidly utter, trying to conceal an incoming moan once his cock buries its way deep in yet again. he’s nice and snug everyone and it drives him crazy. choso’s got a pout—but it quickly turns into a lewd expression once your sopping pussy swallows him right up again. two jittery hands creep their way onto your rickety hips and he moans once he feels himself already bottoming out. “f- fuck, cho.”

his eyebrows were still all furrowed and he’s got a cute scrunched up expression. “ ‘m not a bottom,” choso grumps, leaning in to sneak a kiss near the corner of your mouth. despite the raspiness lingering underneath his tone—you could hear the incoming whine desperately trying to escape. choso’s black ponytails had cute ribbons in them—by you, and he’s biting his lip at the feeling of your hips starting to grind. “i- i can be dominant too.”

“prove it,” you whisper, a bratty impish glint forming in your eyes. choso scoffs, narrowing his eyes at you but it doesn’t last at all because he’s already pussy drunk to the max.

those two words. . those two words was all it took for him to manhandle you like a rag doll, politely and respectfully tossing you into the springy soft mattress.

it bounces from the abrupt weight crashing down and you gasp once choso backs up his words, and oh, he’s fucking you stupid. you let off a gargled three second moan once choso spanks your ass, using one hand to repeatedly drag you back into his chiseled hips. sharp thrusts plow into you with such speed that you’re left with a dumbfounded expression. your eyes were rolling back and your tongue was lolled out as choso was fucking you in doggy.

as much as you write about him, he doesn’t like doggy, mainly because he can’t see your pretty face. it kills him—but he can’t deny that the view of you like this was so pretty, so enticing. your buckling knees lock as you’re cupping a hand over your mouth, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

choso’s cock was so weighty and thick that it’s got a lazy curve, a mean curve that makes itself known in every part of your insides. he’s no stranger to your body, he knows the exact layout. such stamina—you didn’t expect him to be so feral, it’s as if he was an entire different person. “fuck, fuuuck,” he throws his head back, giving your ass more and more hard spanks. the recoil was his favorite. it was just the way your pretty shaped ass would bounce back onto him. he’s in love with love, in love with your pussy, in love with you. “ngh, gotta show you ‘m not a bottom, baby.”

“c- choso,” you whimper, and his fat base swings against your ass, almost shocking you from the electric friction. you’re drooling—he’s got you stupid as your swollen chaste clit bumps up against his pelvis every single time. the bed hollers out a plethora of cries as he’s jerking more and more into you. your cunt’s drooling dewy slick all down the undersides of your thighs. you even make an attempt at trying to touch yourself. with slickness though, choso snatches your wrist away.

“no baby. ‘s my pussy,” he grumbles, pinning an arm behind your back. you’re babbling—squatting forward as he’s feeding your needy pussy with such inches. choso hisses at the brief twinges of pleasure all due to your sloppy grip. you’re brutal, wetting up his base with your dewy slick. he can’t help but stare and gawk at the way your ass presses up against him. choso’s bottom lip quivers at how good it feels and how good you feel. no matter how much of a front he puts up, he’s gonna whine. “f- fuck. teasin’ me with your hips, baby. so mean.”

yet as he’s dragging you back and forth, watching as your chest heaving and your thighs try to clamp inward—you abruptly cum, gushing all over choso’s cock. he huffs at how sudden it was, and he knew you didn’t expect it in the slightest. so pretty, your final orgasmic cries sounded like a sweet candied harmony and he could feel your quavering body breaking down with his shaft still shoved deeply inside. your mess soaks up the entirety of the dark sheet, now being drenched in a damp grey color. “fuck, fuck,” you whimper, shaking as your head slumps into the pillow. choso whines at your own pleasure, and he doesn’t even care if he doesn’t finish. he pulls out, crawling toward you before burying his face into the nook of your neck. “c- choso, oh my g- god.”

as your flimsy arms hold him close, accepting his embrace, he goes back to his clingy needy self again, speaking in a shivering soft voice. “h- have you ever wrote about squirting yet?”

with droopy eye lids, you were longing for a kiss. as if he read your mind, he leans in—planting a sultry balmy kiss right onto your lips. “no,” you mumble, moving a few strands out of his face.

choso licks near your neck, one of his hands sprawling your sticky legs apart and he brushes a finger against your slick wet cunt. “w- well, you can always write about that,” and you gasp once he lifts your leg up, easily tossing it over his shoulder. with pleading eyes, choso sighs. “but, can we do that again, baby? i- i think i like when you squirt on me.”

SUKUNA ☆

“breeding kink, interesting,” the demon gruffs, hearing you whine after he swipes his phone from your hand, wondering what in the actual hell could be so important.

he’s reading a strange explicit story of himself that’s apparently called a ‘one shot,’ according to you. how stupid, he thinks. sukuna’s irked vermillion-shot eyes skim through the many paragraphs of filth before he spanks your ass, making you keep your most recent arch.

“ah, seems like y’r even more nasty than i thought,” and your breath hitches once he circles a palm over your stinging rear cheek— an attempt at soothing the sudden pang. hearing your cute muffled whimpers, he mocks your noises. “aw, if you wanted me to ‘breed’ you princess, you could have just asked.”

“ ‘kuna, ‘s embarrassing,” you moan, gasping once he smears his leaky tip against your entrance. he was right - you could’ve ask, you could have asked him to do all the little dirty things you wrote about, you could have . .

swallowing the invisible lump that resides at the roof of your mouth, you imagine yourself being stuffed full of sukuna’s cum. so much to where he ends up getting you all swollen—you’d be nothing but sitting pretty with a cute plump tummy, wads and wads of glossy runny cum just slickly dribbling down the sides of your ass and thighs.

“write like a slut ‘n you even act like one too,” he hums, using a thumb to slide down your pussy. sukuna’s staring openly at how you’re already so soaked, so drenched and he looks like he’s ready to feast. your puffy folds glisten with your own arousal and it’s so so cute. “wonder if you write while havin’ a pussy this sloppy too,” and he smacks it raw, feeling your entire body jolt from the sudden impact. you fall into the soft padded mattress and he darkly chuckles at your weakly spot-on reaction time, aligning himself. “poor baby. spendin’ all this time writing when you could’ve been getting . . ah, what’s the word? oh, right. bred, heh.”

and sukuna does more than just breed you—he quite literally overflows your cunt. he’s a demon, and demons cum a lot.

you’re an entire puddled mess that was filled to the brim.

the sheets were all damp and stained and you’re glistening with droplets of perspiration—radiating from his heat entirely. “s- sukuna, fuck,” you weep out his name, hearing the sloppy spurts of cum still dribbling out of you. such a mess, your mouth waters as you realize just how full you are. you always wrote about this sort of thing but never knew that your silly fiction could turn into mere reality. both of your thighs stick together as you’re left trembling with an arch in your back. he’s cackling at your state, watching as globs of creamy ropes leak out of your slobbering pussy.

“how cute, jus might mess around ‘n get you pregnant, yeah,” the demon jibes, a sharp fang poking underneath his bottom lip. you’re haplessly quivering. your panties that were lazily dragged to the side were all torn and ripped, coated in a ivory white color also. as you’re trying to collect breaths—you then let off a moan once he presses himself deep against you.

your womb was completely flooded, you’re drowning with his stringy cum and with his hot burly body right up against you, you feel him right there. you couldn’t miss it, he’s so long and thick that he’s practically tickling your goopy insides. sukuna wraps a hand around your throat whilst another hand sneaks toward your pussy. “bet you’d like that, fuckin’ freak,” and he’s smearing circles against your folds. you twitch at his cursed hand, his cock still tucked inside of you before he laughs against your ear. “you want a baby, huh. wanna carry my demon babies, don’t ya princess?”

you nod and he lets off a snicker of amusement. “keh. bet you do,” and his voice lowly pitches. you moan, feeling him pull out of your dripping cunt, plugging his spilling cum back in with a single thumb. “fuck, better write about this too, princess. let all your pathetic readers know how much of a sloppy pussy their favorite author has,” and you gasp once he quickly flips you over. sukuna suddenly dives head first between your legs, lapping his flick tongue against your folds. “mmph, now watch me clean you up,” and he spits on your pussy only to then look at it with disgust. “messy girl.”

TOJI ☆

“nuh uh, get the fuck back here babygirl,” he grabs you by the hip, and you let off a moan once his fingers trail up your skirt. a wavering crinkle prods near the edge of his left twitching eye as he’s processing such raunchy words about him. a dry chortle leaves from toji’s mouth as he makes you lie on your tummy, multitasking by slapping his swollen cockhead on your dribbling folds. “ya always told me you were a writer but i didn’t think you write ‘bout this,” he purrs, and your toes curl once he’s aligning himself against your slick heat. but fuck was your cunt just was drooling for him. both folds were weeping for him to just go in already, and yet here he was - teasing you. “really? what’s with the whole ‘toji daddy kink’ thing? i look like the kinda guy that’s into that?”

you feel embarrassment creep up your shoulder. he was reading that part, the part where reader calls him ‘daddy.’

sheepishly trying to crawl away from his grasp, you swallow ignominy. “ ‘s not real, i just made it up toji,” you try to explain through gritted teeth. but as he’s reeling you back into his keen structed hips, you lewdly mewl. he’s just so fucking big, happily massaging your walls freely with just a few inches. your mouth widens as you hear him lowly snickering in the background. a snickering laugh that never failed to make your pussy throb.

toji grabs at the fat of your ass, stubby fingertips poking through your skin. with a mean spank, it’s a non-verbal sign for you to stay still. “y’er a fuckin’ slut with your writing, baby. i bet ya haven’t even tried these kinks,” he teases, and you moan again once his cock delves deeper into your walls. with such ease, you back raises up into an even sluttier arch. “hm, lets see if y’er as nasty as you write,” and you hear him grunt briefly, one of his hands gently wrapping around your neck. toji gets right up close to your ear, flicking his tongue against your soft earlobe. “go on, say it.”

“s- say what?” you squeak, but you knew exactly what he wanted. never in a million years would you have thought toji would discover your little erotic hobby. by now, he’s balls deep—you whine, feeling yet another sharp swat smack against your left ass cheek at the lack of response. you’re chewing on the inside of your cheek in guilt before you hear toji smack his lips in sheer vex.

“c’mon, don’t get shy on me now,” he murmurs in a hoarse tone, salacious timbre pouring on his entire voice. toji feels your pussy dripping around him and he hums, giving you just one single tease of a thrust. your body jerks forward and you whimper sweetly. he’s so close up to you, hard washboard abs of his that were proudly flexing grinds against your back. he’s pressing his muscular weight onto you, careful not to crush you but just enough to. inching his lips back toward your ear, he kisses near your neck. “call me daddy. jus like how you write me, little girl.”

as you’re feeling a few throbbing pangs between your thighs, you shiver underneath him. burying your head in shame between your arms, you whine. “ngh, daddy,” and a weird feeling pools around the insides of your stomach. butterflies and a mixture of flutters swarm inside of you and you moan. once those words slip past your lips so prettily, toji raspily groans. he pistons his hips before not even seconds later, he’s fucking you stupid. babbles of babbles leave from you, and you’re acting just like the main character you write for. ironic, you’re clinging onto the silky cream-colored sheets, bawling up the thinly-made fabric with your clammy fists before squealing. “fuck, daddy ‘m not gonna last.”

“should hear how stupid you fuckin’ sound, baby,” he growls, merciless hips snapping into you at full throttle. you were gonna break, you just knew it. toji’s thrusts were so powerful that you’re left squeaking out pathetic whimpers—his cock stretching you out as if you were elastic. “fuck,” he runs a hand through his messy dark tresses. his shaggy strands were unkempt, overgrown a bit and running down his eyes. he’s got to cock his head up a bit just to see your pretty face and your even prettier ass. “c’monnn, do that cute arch you describe in y’r slutty fics.”

“t- tojiii,” you whimper, the weight of the bed dipping after each continuous stroke. he’s thorough. toji’s maddened fat tip has your legs becoming more and more unstable before he smacks your ass. the powerful hit against your rear rings through each of your ears—and you pout, gnawing on your lip, knowing he wants you to correct yourself. “ngh, i- i mean daddy. ‘m gonna cum, fuck.”

but right when you’re about to finish, you’re interrupted by the ear-splitting sound of wood. you’re moaning—feeling your pussy continue to squeeze around his throbbing length that’s coated with veins all the way down to the tan swollen base. it’s loud, you gasp once the weight of the springy bed suddenly drops and you both collapse—toji falling on top of you. he doesn’t even say anything, and he pulls you up to continue fucking you but you let off a whiny whimper. “you just broke my b-bed.”

“yeah, so.”

“so..? you’re gonna have to buy me a new one.”

“right. about that . .”

[anantaru]

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ jealous boys — love and deepspace

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, possessive tendencies, jealous boys, toxic, fingering, oral (male! receiving), oral (fem! receiving), good girl used, spit kink, mirror syx, this is so filthy lmao (especially sylus part)

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

zayne usually doesn't get angry when he's feeling the sudden dash of jealousy crush down on him— he gets calm, in fact, terrifyingly so.

not to mention that the moment he has you all to himself again he's fast on latching onto you with your back now hitting the wall with one of his hands by your head, the other already between your legs, skimming the flesh of your inner thigh with his cold knuckles, memorizing the place where your leg connects to your privates before you can react nor do something.

zayne doesn't say anything to you yet, instead his lips brush against yours once— soft and misleading before he bites down, hard, and before you knew it, your surprised gasp gave him permission for his tongue to fill your mouth like a sin made of salt and heat, in accessory to his fingers stroking your pussy so unbelievably dirty and cruel.

"you smiled at him, i saw it," he whispers against your lips, rubbing your folds as you make a blissful face, "what did he do to earn that?" zayne presses his fingers deeper between your legs as he watches you grind against them, jaw slacked in awe as you coat him with your slick.

"you know, i could fuck you right here," his voice drops, thick with restraint, "perhaps even in front of him, so he knows who you belong to," as his mouth descends again, this time trailing along your jaw, your neck and your collarbone as his sharp teeth tease the flesh with his fingers hooking into your doused panties.

"fuck, you're dripping baby, what are we gonna do about that, huh?" he hisses, his dangerous gaze on you practically glowing in the dark as he taunts your bare pussy like the way you've been making him jealous tonight.

"you like being fought over, don’t you?"

he licks the skin over your pulse before dipping a finger into your tight hole, slowly, menacing, your slick weeping out of your pussy with the slightest pressure, your hole parting for him ever so obediently— and zayne swears he saw the prettiest kind of stars behind your eyes when he slides another finger inside you, curling and owning your cunt, making your stomach turn weightless.

yet the kiss that follows next turned brutal with teeth and spit and groans as if he's feeding off you, imbedding all of his frustration into your frame as if your mouth was the only thing roping him to sanity.

"don't you ever do this again."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

before he even touches you, xavier's trembling— and without a doubt, you've said another man's name, and he's heard it, undoubtedly picked up on how you spelled it out.

so when he kisses you for the first time that night— it wasn't near anything sweet, beyond that was it unraveling, lips trembling and tongue somewhat clumsy and anxious, yet he remained deeply passionate, although wrecked, a moan building into every breath when he slants down one of his hands to squeeze your ass and part your thighs.

"who were you talking to? hm?" he whispers into your mouth before grinding down his groin against your clit, and then, again, more brokenness adds to his confused tone, "do you love me?" and when he says it, he lines himself up with your hole, and the feel of your pussy immediately squeezing and convulsing and claiming his dripping dick was enough to make him wince out your name.

his hips grind into yours harder and more despairing, "i need you," he sobs into your neck as you're feeling him rock himself thick and heavy inside your walls, "you can't leave me, you cannot."

his hands shake as they slide up your tits and at the same time, his mouth became frantic— tongue swallowing yours and teeth clacking, it's gotten so messy that spit began dripping down your chin when you moan his name into the kiss, fingers tangling in his hair and then he breaks— kissing you like he's dying, pounding you down like he's attempting to carve himself into your bones.

"say you're mine, come on," he begs you, his voice decaying into something crushing, velvet and low, the kind of softness that only existed in darkened bedrooms and godless prayers, "even if it's a lie baby, just tonight, say it, please."

and when you do— he sloppily sobs into your mouth with his hips stuttering within a deep thrust, swiftly lifting your legs onto his shoulders and holding onto them with ease as he continues to buck into you, never gentle, only desperate.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

in all aspects, rafayel's jealousy was much quieter than you originally thought it would be— as well as colder in a way which made your skin crawl.

you see, he doesn't shout at you, no— he seethes, and when he touches you, it's never rushed, instead it's intentional, dangerous, like he's punishing you with refusing to give you pleasure.

he crushes you against the mirror like he's trying to make you witness your own undoing, the glass beginning to fog and blur as he fucks your thighs— and with that, you see the curve of your mouth as it falls open, the helpless arch of your spine and behind you, his very eyes— half-lidded, ravenous, like he's not just watching but branding the image into eternity.

your reflection became a witness, a confessional, every noise you were making and every beg for him had to enter his mind fully— those desperate, broken sounds— etched into silver and silence as rafayel wasn't giving you what you wanted this time, his mind circling endlessly in shameful memory as he fucks his erection into the plush of your thighs, never once actually pressing inside your warm cunt to feel inside.

his mouth hovers over your neck before he bites down on it, "you touched his arm," he whispers, but it's not sweet, no, not reminding you of the rafayel you called your boyfriend— it's venom in silk, low and coaxing, the kind of voice that wrapped around your throat while pretending to cradle it, "do you want me to break it?"

then his tongue slides against your neck— long, smooth, calculated as his kiss was equal to liquid sin, measured in chaos before his hands cup the plush of your ass to spread you and finally press into your soaked cunt, balls deep like he's sculpting you into the shape of his length.

yet the man doesn’t grunt, he hums instead, like he's tasting expensive wine and it's in the way his eyes half-close from listening to your moans dragging low from your throat— like the feeling of you milking him was intoxicating enough to unmake his jealousy.

“tell me what he has that I don't," he drawls, teeth grazing your shoulder, "and i'll take it from him," as he bites down hard enough for your flesh to almost bleed before kissing the pulsing spot, dragging his erection till you felt hot and bred in your stomach, his hips making sinful smack, smack, smacks as your body tenses by itself.

you spell out his name, but it somehow felt even dirtier when you moan in, messier than before when you cry it out as he fucks you with a ferocity that knocks the air from your lungs.

"good girl," he purrs, happy with you, "now let me hear you scream."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

mouth wide, tongue deep, with hands rough around sylus's length as he yanks your head deeper into his lap like he's afraid someone will tear your pretty, hot mouth away. fuck, how much he adored seeing you in such position, between his thighs, gurgling on his dick and watching him from under your doused lashes.

"mine," he snarls from above, fingers intertwined in your hair as he helps you bob your head up n down up n down, "all mine."

your mouth sealed around his cock felt like a wildfire to him— smoking hot, a destruction only you could imbed on him— and sometimes it scared him, how much power you held for him to become so riled up when seeing you with another person.

your tongue circles around his cockhead and doesn't ask for permission to go faster, your mouth claiming the moans you sought after instead— and it seizes sylus, truly it bruises him and fuck, if he sees you with this man again, he cannot promise himself to hold back.

thick and flushed, his cock twitches in your mouth and presses right against your throat, aching when you moan against his girth, spit bubbling from your lips and clinging onto his skin when he lifts his hips up to thrust into your wet warmth, gripping the couch underneath him for balance.

it's all so messy and wet, and you loved it— drooling all over his dick and taking the punishment like a good girl, gurgling and sucking and slurping it all up as sylus could barely catch his breath, heaving from the exhilarating desire you imposed on him.

the tension coiled on his body— tight, ravenous— a mounting pressure that climbed like a hymn chanted through gritted teeth, blistering toward something supernatural as you look up at him again, tear stricken eyes and wet mouth sucking him oh so well.

it’s not release that he needed, no, or not yet at least, but the unbearable promise of it, the kind of high that felt less like pleasure and more like divine punishment delivered through trembling flesh, and when you hum around him at last, sylus can almost forget his jealousy there.

for a moment he stops you as his hand silently wraps around your throat, thumb dragging down your swollen, bottom lip so he can spit into your mouth— messily, filthy and possessive, he needs this, okay?

because sylus still found himself agonizingly mad.

"did he make you blush like this?" he mocks you from above, slanting down and licking into your mouth, "did he get you this wet?" as he moves his foot between your legs to rub his shoe against your wet cunt, the scent of your arousal whirling up to touch his nostrils.

his other hand grabs your head, pulling you down again while simultaneously grinding his foot against your pussy— fuck, you're so soaked it's audible, so embarrassingly obscene he could very well applaud himself for this.

and he groans, a sound pulled from his chest like agony when you take him inside your mouth again.

"you drive me insane," he pants, leaning his head back, "you should be locked away, kept for my eyes only."

he doesn't stop moving you off his cock, not once, your lips moving and working, your tongue claiming him until your knees ached and your pussy came all over his shoe, your chin sticky with cum and saliva and filth, eyebrows pulled together in concentration as he watches you fuck his cock with your throat.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

caleb spells out your name like it's a curse he never wanted to learn in the first place, and it kind of scared you a bit— teeth gritted and breathing harsh with his lips crashing into yours mid-sentence, bruising and unrelenting, his tongue pushing past yours like he's forcing himself inside— no space nor time for air, no room for a single thought, for denial.

his head moves between your thighs without restrain and now he feels you unravel in shivers and moans as the soft slap of his tongue on your pussy caught you off guard together with his palms cupping your breasts, his wet muscle lapping against your folds as they part for him obediently, licking between your cunt with sounds of slick noises echoing through the bedroom.

"you let him touch you? didn't you?" he rasps into your cunt, nosing your clit to take in your scent as he groans out filthily, his eyes lurching back into the hollow of his skull, not just in pleasure but in delirium— as if the taste of your pussy was something his body cannot withhold, "you think i didn't see it?"

he thrusts his tongue against you deeper, his cock hard and angry grinding into the mattress like he's punishing himself for letting anyone else near you, "i'll fucking ruin you for this," he growls, voice breaking, "with my fingers, my mouth, my cock— hell, over and over until you break,"

you moan when he lets you hear just how wet he's made you as he's slurping at you with insane hunger, his tongue ravishing your cunt and poking your hole over and over before dragging it up to lick between your folds again, collecting your slick on his lips an chin.

"is this for me? or for him?" tauntingly, Caleb never stopped playing with your pussy to hear a coherent answer form you, because you see, he already knows what you were about to say and he'll make you know as well, who you belong to.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[bizarrelovetriangel]

lipstick stains.

reader decides to dabble with art using several lipstick as her tools and sylus' sleeping face as her canvas.

fluff. inspired by one of sylus' texts in the game (included down below near the end). no warnings, just little kisses and reader having a little fun <3

It's two in the afternoon and there's nothing to do until sunset, when it's time to get ready for a date with your lover who's currently sleeping.

No... maybe there is something you could do.

A certain someone recently just bought you several new shades of lipstick from the brand that you love. Maybe now is a good idea to see which color would suit your outfit best for your date.

You wore a sly grin as you gathered all of your new lipstick and tiptoed your way inside Sylus' bedroom.

He's still in the same position as when you put him to bed: mostly on his back, though his upper body's slightly on a higher level due to the fluffy cold pillow supporting his shoulders.

He's wearing his satin burgundy robe, which had gotten a little loose to expose a portion of his chest. You were tempted to rest your head against it, but you can't afford to be distracted right now. You have a mission.

You're going to test the shades of your new lipstick with Sylus' help.

First up is cherry.

You put on a single layer of that color on your lips, then you carefully leaned down towards Sylus' face and softly kissed his forehead. You made sure it was as light as a feather so he doesn't wake up and end your fun so soon.

Next: rose.

You painted your lips with the brighter shade and pecked Sylus' left cheek. It gave a similar result as the previous contender: it looks great, but this particular color probably won't match your outfit tonight.

Third candidate is: wine

This one went to his right cheek and your gaze lingered on it for a little longer than the rest, as the color seemed so fitting on Sylus' face. The stain of wine always did compliment him, so this shouldn't be a surprise.

Up next is blood-red.

It's darker than wine and you also love its velvety texture. More importantly, the kiss mark of its hue looks wonderful on Sylus' left jawline.

Following that is blush.

This one's brighter and more on the pink side. Even though you like it, tonight won't be the night when you'd wear it. Nonetheless, it certainly looks lovely on your lover's chin, which twitched for a second after you kissed it.

Next one is apple.

You kissed the right side of Sylus' jaw and awed at its surprisingly vibrant tone. This one might work quite well with your outfit.

There's the shade called merlot, too.

It's more on the darker side, but you're not sure if it'll look good with your outfit tonight. On the other hand, it's cute on Sylus' nose.

Last but not least: ruby

This one seems like it's in the middle of the palette in terms of saturation, and it appears to have an appealing texture as well. To test it out, you put it on your lips and left a mark on the little spot just above his lips.

Or at least, that was the plan.

Sylus stirred all of a sudden, so you ended up kissing him on the lips.

From the very moment your lips touched, your face heated up and you backed away in panic.

You've kissed him plenty of times. You've kissed him on the lips and on spots that are not his lips. You've done way more than kissing. And yet still, your heart raced at the thought of him catching you stealing kisses from him while he sleeps.

It's still a little early for him to wake up, so you decided to leave him alone for now. You took all of your lipstick with you and ran out before he could detect your presence.

//////////

Your mouth drops at the text message you just received.

"I need to hide, quickly! You guys better not snitch on me! Especially you, Mephie!" You glared at the crow before leaving Luke and Kieran, suddenly ending your game of Kitty Cards.

You fled to look for a hiding spot, but it's too late. Your face planted against a strong chest.

You swore you heard a cough from behind you, followed by the sound of someone's phone clicking for a picture.

It didn't matter though because Sylus spared no attention to Luke, Kieran, and Mephisto as his eyes are completely focused on you.

"Sylus....." you laughed nervously. "Good afternoon. Had a nice dream?"

"Mhmm." He crossed his arms, giving you a raised brow. "In my dream, I was being attacked by a mischievous kitten while I was asleep."

"...."

"You're coming with me." He took one step towards you and leaned down to whisper to your ear. "You have to be punished for your crimes."

Suddenly, he threw you over his shoulder and retreated back to his bedroom.

Luke and Kieran looked at each other.

"Did you get the picture?"

"Yeah."

[misswynters]

The Noble Daughter

Viktor x fem! reader / wc. 1.5k

synopsis: You are the daughter of a influential noble house. And Viktor is your little secret.

warnings: 18+, smut ofc, getting caught, him whimpering, soft sex 🫶🏼, reader getting eaten out, switch lean sub! vik, fingering

there might be some mistakes… -.-

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned <3

Every shadow and flicker seemed to embrace the secrecy of your meeting, cocooning you in a world that was just yours and his. Viktor turned at the touch of your hand on his shoulder, his amber eyes widening in surprise before they softened, filled with a mixture of longing and tenderness that made your heart ache.

"You shouldn't be here," he murmured, his voice low and gentle, laced with both worry and desire. But his hand found its way to your waist, as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting you go.

"I had to see you," you whispered back, lifting a hand to his cheek, fingers grazing the roughness of his stubble. He leaned into your touch, and before either of you could say another word, his lips met yours.

The kiss started soft, hesitant, but soon grew with a fierce urgency. Viktor's hands moved to your waist, pulling you close, as if he needed to make up for every second you'd been apart. He broke the kiss only to breathe, his lips brushing over your cheek, your jaw, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched. You leaned back against his worktable, the cool metal pressing into your back.

With a glance up at you, Viktor lifted the edge of your blue dress, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your thigh. The contact of his hands sent a shiver up your spine. His gaze flickered up, silently asking permission, and at your nod, he continued, his hands guiding you, exploring every curve with a careful reverence.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice gentle, his eyes searching yours, filled with both longing and concern. "I don't want you to feel..."

"Viktor," you murmured, sliding a hand along his jaw, tilting his face so he could see the determination in your eyes. "I’m in desperate need of your touch."

He bit his lip and with a shaky breath, Viktor nodded. His eyes never leaving yours as he positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your waist. He entered you slowly as he filled you inch by inch. This is what you were yearning for. His eyes were shut close trying to suppress his sounds, however here and there a whimper would slip through.

Each thrust was met with the wet, quiet sounds of your bodies slapping against each other, amplifying every sensation in the silence of the lab. All you could hear was the wet squelching sounds you’re pussy made as he continued to fill you.

As he moved, Viktor's hands slid under your thigh, lifting one leg to rest against his hip. The new angle sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you bit down on your lip to keep from crying out, your nails pressing into his shoulders.

Viktor's breath grew heavier, his forehead pressing against yours as he tried to hold back his own sounds. His gaze dropped down between you, watching where you were joined, the sight sending a shiver through him that made him let out a quiet whimper, his grip tightening on your thigh.

He began a slow, steady rhythm, each movement creating soft, wet squelching sound that continued to grow rapidly. The intimacy of it, the restraint you both held, only made the tension coil tighter. Viktor's gaze was intense, filled with both wonder and awe as he watched the way your bodies moved together. "I never thought..." he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "You're... everything I dreamed of."

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a breathless kiss, muffling both your gasps as he quickened his pace. The sounds between you grew louder, the wet, rhythmic noises blending with the quiet hum of the lab, filling the space with a symphony meant only for the two of you. Every motion, every shift, was precise, Viktor's movements guided by both his passion and his care for you.

The tension built, coiling tight as Viktor's restraint began to slip. His breaths came in shallow gasps, and his eyes met yours with a look so full of longing, of devotion, that it nearly undid you. You clung to him, burying your face against his shoulder to stifle the moans that threatened to escape, your body moving in time with his, caught up in the quiet, forbidden passion.

With a quiet, trembling sigh, Viktor buried himself fully, his own quiet whimpers echoing softly in your ear as he felt you shudder around him. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining, grounding you as the last waves of pleasure washed over you both.

In the stillness that followed, Viktor pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, his hands still resting at your waist, as though he couldn't bear to let go. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice full of awe and tenderness. "For loving me... for being here."

Moments have passed since you have reached your first organism and you were still on the table. As the quiet settled over the lab, Viktor held you close for a few lingering breaths, his forehead pressed gently against yours. But soon, the intensity in his gaze softened, replaced by a tenderness that left you breathless.

With a quiet reverence, he carefully knelt before you, his hands resting on your thighs. He was weary to not hurt himself which would cause him more pain on his limp leg. Viktor’s golden eyes met yours as he slowly lowered himself, his expression filled with something almost worshipful. He pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee, then to your thigh, each touch lingering as though he was committing every inch of you to memory. His lips moved higher, grazing over your skin with soft, open-mouthed kisses that left a warm, tingling trail in their wake.

Your breath hitched as his mouth moved closer towards your pussy, the intensity of the moment making your heart pound.

Viktor's metal fingers traced along your thigh, the coolness of his touch a delicious contrast to the heat he was leaving with his lips. His long, slender fingers followed the curve of your leg, slipping inside your walls with a grace that was gentle. You felt his thumb press softly against your skin, steadying you, while his other hand reached up to rest at your waist, grounding you in the moment.

The coldness of his metal hand sent a shiver through you, heightening every sensation, and he seemed to notice, a slight smile tugging at his lips. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a hint of mischief in his gaze. "Still alright?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern, but his tone held a knowing warmth.

You managed a nod, your hand reaching down to thread through his hair, tugging him slightly closer. His lips quirked into a soft smirk before he returned his focus to you, pressing another kiss to your folds. His mouth moved with a slow, deliberate patience. His kisses growing bolder and deeper, as his tongue darted inside you.

Viktor's metal fingers traced light patterns along your skin, each touch careful, his control a testament to his dedication. As he moved higher, his thumb pressed gently along the inside of your thigh, guiding you open for him with a mixture of care and desire. The coolness of his touch, combined with the warmth of his lips, sent tremors through you that you could barely contain.

His mouth hovered near your folds, his breath warm against you, but he paused, looking up with a gaze full of tenderness. "You're... beautiful," he whispered, his voice barely a murmur, as though he was confessing a secret.

Before you could respond, his lips finally met your pussy, a quiet, reverent kiss that left you dizzy. His metal fingers continued their journey, a gentle, precise touch that sent waves of sensation through you, heightening every nerve. He took his time, savoring each reaction, each shiver, his mouth and hands working in tandem as he explored, worshipping every part of you with a devotion that left you breathless.

As his cool fingers reached deeper, finding your sensitive spots. His mouth followed, leaving soft, lingering kisses that melted any remaining restraint. The contrast of his cold touch and the warmth of his mouth created a rhythm that had you gripping the edge of the table, biting down on your lip to keep from crying out.

Viktor's pace quickened, his cool fingers moving with a newfound intensity. Each motion was calculated yet filled with passion, his gaze flickering between his hand and your face, drinking in every reaction, every quiet sound you made. His metal fingers, precise and deft, moved inside you at a pace that left you breathless, teetering on the edge as he guided you closer with each stroke.

He murmured soft, breathy reassurances between the kisses that he laid on your thighs. His voice filled with warmth."You're perfect... absolutely perfect," he whispered, his free hand caressing the curve of your thigh.

Viktor's replaced his slender fngers with his tongue again, alternating between teasing flicks and deep strokes, savoring every taste. His metal fingers splayed across your thigh, holding you firmly, while his other hand trailed down to his own body. He shivered as he began to touch himself in time with his mouth on you, his quiet moans and hitched breaths vibrating against you, only intensifying your pleasure.

He glanced up now and then, his amber eyes darkened with desire, watching the way you responded, drinking in every soft gasp and tremble. The sight of your flushed face and parted lips seemed to drive him further, his movements becoming more hungry as he lost himself in the pleasure he was giving you. His fingers dug into your skin, his grip tightening as he grew more desperate, his own moans blending with yours, low and needy.

The lab was filled with the squelching sounds of your bodies. A mix of his restrained groans, the wet, rhythmic noises of his mouth, and your own stifled whimpers. You felt like you could cum any second as your stomach turned tighter. Viktor seemed to sense it, as his tongue pressing deeper, his pace quickening. His free hand gripped your thigh harder, pulling you even closer to him, as though he wanted to consume every last bit of you.

Just as you felt yourself reaching the edge, Viktor lifted his head slowly, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. His chest rose and fell in deep, unsteady breaths, his flushed cheeks and slightly dazed expression showing just how much he'd enjoyed himself. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your thighs, grounding you as you came back down, while he gazed up at you with a look of pure adoration.

He brought his metal thumb up to wipe away a stray drop from his chin, a slight, satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You taste... exquisite," he murmured, his voice low and rough, a mix of pride and lingering hunger shining in his eyes as he leaned up to kiss you, letting you taste the passion you had just shared.

Viktor then reached towards your soaked pussy to finger you again. The quiet wet sounds filled the air, amplifying the intimacy of the moment, creating a world that felt entirely your own. But then, a faint creak echoed through the room, and both of you froze. The unmistakable sound of the lab door opening snapped Viktor back to reality, and he stilled, his eyes widening as his gaze shot up to yours. You both turned, just in time to see Jayce entering, a stack of papers in hand.

Jayce's eyes met yours first, and then drifted towards Viktor, his fingers still inside you. For a brief, painful moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the distant hum of hextech machinery. Jayce's expression shifted from surprise to awkward shock as the realization dawned on him. His mouth opened, as though he wanted to say something, but words seemed to fail him.

"I... I didn't mean to interrupt," he finally managed, his tone caught between embarrassment and disbelief. Jayce quickly looked away, his cheeks flushing as he backed out of the room, practically stumbling over his own feet.

"I'll... come back later," he stammered, disappearing from sight. The door clicked shut, leaving the lab filled with silence once more. Viktor's face had gone red, his eyes fixed on the floor, clearly mortified. But as he glanced down at you, the edges of his mouth twitched, and a quiet laugh escaped him, breaking the tension.

"Well," Viktor murmured softly, a hint of humor in his voice, "that... was unexpected." He lifted his soaked fingers towards his mouth as his other hand still lingering on your waist, sucking all of your juices as he maintained eye contact. His mouth made a popping sound as he let his fingers go from in between his lips. He then led his once soaked fingers towards the back of your neck, caressing your hair.

"Perhaps we'll continue... later?" he suggested, his voice low, a promise glinting in his eyes as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. You couldn't help but laugh, nodding as you pulled him into an hug. You hoped that jayce didn’t go out and tell anyone what happened. Because if he did and your parents knew, you would sure be in for a scolding.

taglist: @luneariaa @minagrayson @aliives @mammonsleftring @gxrextxgaidk @anna1-1 @bl-0-ndi-3

banner: @cafekitsune

[nereidprinc3ss]

diva

in which flirty!reader shows up to work in a bad mood and it’s spencer’s job to deal with her attitude. not that he minds. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: fem!reader, mentions of reader coming to work from a casual hookup, flirting, lots of teasing, the BAU being silly geese bc this is before all the trauma, insecurities about reader's job performance, spencer wants to be a cyborg, borderline cuddling hehehe a/n: nanana diva is a female version of a hustler (bandages!reader theme song) no but really i just missed them so much lowkey always accepting requests for these two!! I hope you guys likeeee bc i loveee them and also this was based on a request so i hope u see this LOL

As soon as Hotch calls wheels up in thirty you’re slumping forward, resting your head on folded arms. The to-go cup on the round table in front of you has long been emptied but you look at it longingly anyway. 

Morgan chuckles, slapping his folder down on the table next to you. “Aw, look at that. Bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“It’s Sunday,” you groan. “It’s seven in the morning. Excuse me for not being ready to carpe the diem.”

“It’s just carpe diem,” Spencer interjects, standing and slipping his file into his bag. You sit up and give him the most indignant look you can manage, though it’s hard when you’re this tired and he’s that cute. Slacks. Sweater vest. Button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. An enviable waist. 

“Whose side are you on?”

He frowns, brushing a tuft of shining-clean brown hair out of his eyes. 

“If I was on anyone’s side other than my own it would cease to be their side. We’re all always on our own sides.”

“No, you’re on my side. Defend me.”

His brows only dart up and he looks back down to his bag. It’s a look you know well. Don’t get me involved. 

Morgan spins in his chair to face you, one elbow resting on the table. 

“I’m just saying, if this is your Sunday morning, I’d love to see your Saturday night, little miss forty five minutes late.”

“You heard Hotch say he called me half an hour earlier than everyone else. It was technically fifteen,” you frown. “And I… was at church.”

Rossi gestures at you with his coffee cup. “You step foot in a church, your shoes are going to start smoking.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Wow. I thought old people were supposed to be sweet. Come on, Spencer.”

Spencer knows better than to put up a fight as you get up and grab him by the hand not holding onto your cup and folder, dragging him to the bullpen to sit at your desk until the team is ready to go. 

He stands in front of you, hands in pockets, as you plop into your own chair. “I… can’t tell if you’re actually mad.”

“I am. At you. For not being on my side.”

Spencer sets his bag down and leans against the adjacent desk, arms folded. You stopped caring a long time ago if he’d notice you ogling the long, lithe lines of him. Maybe you never really cared, if you’re being honest with yourself. He’s a little harder to scandalize these days, anyway. But you’ll never stop trying. 

He bites his lip thoughtfully. 

“If you’re mad at me, why am I the one you dragged down here?”

“I’m not taking questions, Reid.”

He hisses. “Ouch. Reid.”

“Mhm. That’s how mad I am.”

“Okay, grouchy. Do you want a refill?”

You borderline pout, continuously perplexed by his kindness in the face of your insolence, but holding out your hollow cup for him anyway as you slouch lower in your seat. 

“Don’t call me grouchy.”

“Then don’t call me Reid,” he says, taking your cup as he passes, and you think you sense the faintest wash of amusement coloring his tone. 

The jet doesn’t do much to put pep in your step. 

“Aberdeen,” Morgan muses, letting his file closed on his lap. “Isn’t that where, uh, Kurt Cobain grew up?”

Spencer sits down in the chair next to you, setting the day’s third cup of coffee in front of you on the small table. “It is. It’s also where Washington’s first suspected serial killer William Gohl resided.”

“First of many,” Rossi amends. Reid nods. 

“In the US, Washington State comes in fifth place in terms of serial killers per capita. Some blame a widespread vitamin D deficiency. Just under eight hours of sunlight in the winter, the least in the contiguous United States.”

Emily gives an abhorrent rendition of a famous Nirvana riff, imitating a twangy electric guitar, before gesturing to your boss. “Hotch, you’re from Seattle. Did you ever get into Nirvana? The whole grunge scene?”

Hotch lowers his folder, giving her an unimpressed look. “Did you?”

While the exchange is amusing, the coffee is not perking you up and you’d like to be slightly less upright, if possible. You bump Spencer’s knee with your own, and he looks over at you obediently. 

“What’s up?”

“I wanna move to the couch.”

He nods and gets right back up. When you pass, and he doesn’t immediately follow, you turn around. Maybe the lack of sleep has rendered you unable to hide your look of contempt as he tries to sit back down. 

“What are you doing?”

Morgan snorts. “Uh oh. Lapdog almost forgot his training.”

“I am not a lapdog,” Spencer defends, giving Morgan a harsh look of his own, before following you, much to the amusement of the rest of the BAU. 

“Don’t listen to them,” you mutter as you step aside to let him pass. 

He settles into the corner of the couch. “I almost never do.” When you cozy up next to him, he seems surprised. “Um, hi?”

“I’m cold. You’re warm.”

“This is… unprofessional.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “Oh my god. They don’t care.”

That’s enough to shut him up. Eventually he relaxes, and though he doesn’t put his arm around you (they remain crossed in front of him) he doesn’t seem too distraught over the way you’re leaning against him, head on his shoulder. The sky is a soft grey where you can see it through the little rectangles lining the far wall, like a pale tea with plenty of milk. 

“What’s up with you, anyway?” He asks eventually, gingerly, and though he’s bold to ask it you know the last thing he means to do is offend. Luckily for him, he’s your soft spot. You let your eyes flutter shut against the boxes of diffuse light. 

“Tired.”

“I know that. You’ve had three cups of coffee and you’re still about to fall asleep.”

“Well… that’s all it was.”

“Mhm.”

“God, you’re—” you lift your head, about to give him a good old fashioned verbal lashing, but he’s so sweet looking, and he’s so kind to you even when he’s not, that you deflate—all your air coming out on a sigh as you settle back against him. “I… was… not home, when Hotch called me.”

“Yeah, you said you were at church?” He sounds utterly bewildered. Your heart melts, and you can’t hide the fondness seeping from every pore as you look up at him through your lashes. He really is so beautiful. 

“That was a joke, Spence. I was with a friend.”

His brows knit and a faint blush tinges his cheeks. 

“Oh. I knew that.”

And he really is getting better at detecting your brand of sarcasm. One day you doubt you’ll be able to pull any over on him, and he’ll stop being so adorable and bashful and embarrassed and sweet all the time. You don't relish the thought.

“What were you doing this morning?” You ask, in a bid to quell the very embarrassment you covet, because you’re not actually a demon, despite what Rossi had implied earlier. 

“Sleeping.”

You hum. Imagine taking his hand. Don’t really take it. 

“Me ’nd you should hang out outside of work more often.”

“Like… in the mornings?”

“Uh, probably not,” you laugh, your own face heating at the implication he’s only sort of and undoubtedly accidentally making. “I mean—we could. We could have breakfast sometimes.”

“I like breakfast,” he muses. “I know a couple of good spots. I can show you when we get back. There are these ube pancakes that are like bright purple on the inside. Have you had ube? I think you’d like them. The pancakes and the tuber. They’re the same color as your laptop case.”

You giggle, too tired for anything more dignified and too charmed for anything less authentic. Spencer has a moment of apparent self-awareness and after a second chuckles along with you, and like 99% of your moments with him, it’s a nice one. 

It slowly fades, and you sigh. 

“We’d probably get called in right in the middle of breakfast.”

“It’s always a possibility,” Spencer agrees, and you feel him nod. He smells really nice—clean and sort of cedar-y. Warm. 

“You ever think about how we’re just… robot arms to do the bidding of the federal government? We’re not even people. We’re cyborgs.”

“I’d love to be a cyborg.”

“But then you wouldn’t be so warm and comfy.”

“If I were a cyborg I could install a heating element. I’d still be warm. I don’t know about comfy. Maybe if I kept the biomechatronics to one side of my torso.”

“You’d install a heating element just for me? So we could keep cuddling?”

He clears his throat. You smile to yourself. 

“Why are we cyborgs, exactly?”

“Because we don’t get personal lives. The job comes first. I could be doing anything. I could be in the middle of eating bright purple pancakes with my good friend and colleague Spencer Reid and it doesn’t matter. If we get called in we have to leave.”

“If we were in the middle of breakfast, we could just… take our food to go and finish it at our desks.”

“Well—I guess it would be different if it was us, but with my other friends… it’s kind of a bummer, sometimes.”

You’re thinking about the friend you left this morning. Nobody you’re particularly invested in, but you wonder if that friend is still asleep in bed—and you realize you don’t much care. You’re glad to be here, and not there. 

“I think if the job didn’t feel worth it to you, you would’ve left by now. But you haven’t. You can complain all you want, but you show up every day.”

You scoff. 

“Fifteen to 45 minutes late, depending on how you look at it.”

“That is… atypical. You’re usually on time.”

“Usually…” you repeat darkly. A moment passes. An uncomfortable insecurity begins to bloom and ache like a rotting tooth. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Do you think…” you falter, unused to this kind of vulnerability. A cloud swallows the jet and the cabin darkens into a place for secrets. “Do you think I’m worth the trouble?”

You know Spencer senses the unease like a sheepdog can sense a storm from the way he perks up next to you. He’s always been like that—incredibly attuned to the moods of others. You hope he doesn’t think profiling is just another of many learned skills. It’s a genuine talent, a sort of savantism in its own right. You can’t imagine him doing anything else as passionately as he does his job. Sometimes it almost makes you insecure. 

“What trouble?”

“Like… Hotch having to call me half an hour earlier than he calls the rest of the team. Or you, accepting my constant teasing. I know I’m—I can be kind of a diva. I don’t always really feel as professional as you guys. Or… qualified, maybe.”

You can imagine the way he’d narrow his eyes as he thinks this over, though you’d still like to see it for yourself—but you keep your head on his shoulder. In a way, he’s already getting a closer look at you than you usually grant to anyone. 

“I think… you’re good at your job. And you care more than you’d like to admit. That thing you do—where you sometimes show up a few minutes late, or you piss Rossi off on purpose, or you flirt with Hotch—I think… we all have things like that. We all self-sabotage, because it’s a really hard job, and I think we all wonder if we’re really qualified for it, or deserve to be in these positions, or if we even want the responsibility of trying to save people’s lives. But you’re a genuinely good person and a gifted profiler. And everyone else knows it, too.”

The deep thrum of the jet’s engine blurs the rest of the team’s incomprehensible chatting and the pounding of your heart into one big muddied streak of paint. Hopefully Spencer can’t feel the heat of your cheek through his shirtsleeve. 

“Oh,” you murmur. 

A moment passes. 

It’s a relief when Spencer’s anxiety comes bubbling up before your own can. “Sorry, was that too much?”

“No,” you hurry, “no, it was—no. That was really really nice of you to say. Thank you, Spencer.”

He relaxes. “Well… it’s all true.”

How could anyone ever deserve him? How does anyone get lucky enough to know a man like Spencer Reid?

When you burst through the other side of the cloud, the sun has come out. It burns away the milky early morning fog and makes your eyes ache just enough to finally wake you up. You blink and stretch against him like a cat. 

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

“I just want to clarify… I don’t flirt with Hotch. I flirt with you.”

[nhmkhnh]

TALK ME THROUGH IT.

CHARACTERS: VI ;; CAITLYN KIRAMMAN ;; CASSANDRA KIRAMMAN ;; SEVIKA ;; JINX ;; AMBESSA MEDARDA ;; ELLIE WILLIAMS ;; ABBY ANDERSON ;; MIZU.

PAIRINGS: ALL X SUB!FEM!READER (one for each scenario)

WARNING(S): lowercase, explicit content (minors & men dni) TAGS: strap-on sex ;; riding ;; gentle dirty talk ;; praise kink ;; eye contact ;; age gap (for cassandra and ambessa) ;; mommy kink ;; manhandling ;; neck holding ;; praise/degradation ;; discipline kink ;; possessive restraint.

navigation.

vi

you were the one who said “i wanna try riding.” you. not her.

so why the fuck are you trembling like a leaf in her lap, thighs shaking, palms braced against her inked-up chest, eyes glassy as the strap pushes up against your dripping cunt?

vi’s grin is slow, almost smug. but her voice? low, dangerous, with that dangerous sweetness you only get when she’s got you exactly where she wants you.

“aw, what happened to all that big talk, baby? thought you said you were gonna take control tonight.”

you whimper, shifting nervously, your bare knees bracketing her hips. she’s fully leaned back against the headboard now, strap-up, arms behind her head like she’s lounging—but her biceps are flexing, jaw clenched, eyes glued to the way your pussy twitches against the silicone.

“i-i still wanna try…” you mumble, cheeks burning.

vi clicks her tongue, and it’s condescending. “you’re already soaked. you’re fuckin’ throbbing for it, sweetheart.” she leans forward and grabs your face with one hand, forcing you to look at her. “so what’s the problem?”

you swallow hard. “it’s big.”

vi smirks. “yeah. it is.” her grip tightens on your jaw. “but you wanted it, didn’t you? so now you’re gonna take it.”

and when you hesitate? that’s when she shifts under you—thrusting her hips up just enough to make the thick head part your folds—and your gasp rips through the room.

she growls, deep in her chest. “you hear that? that pretty fuckin’ sound you just made?” her hands are gripping your hips now, pinning you in place. “you’re not scared. you’re needy. your pussy’s begging to be split open.”

you moan, breathless, overwhelmed, but—fuck—you grind down anyway.

“fuuuck yeah,” vi groans, voice shuddering as you take her inch by inch. “look at you. goin’ dumb on my strap already and i haven’t even moved.”

your hands are clawing at her abs now, muscles twitching under your touch as you force yourself to drop the rest of the way down, letting out a strangled sob when she bottoms out inside you.

vi’s head falls back. “oh my fuck, baby. that’s it. take it all. ride it like a good fuckin’ girl.”

you start to move. slowly at first. rolling your hips with shaky breaths, your thighs trembling under the stretch. but vi’s hands are still on you. still controlling you.

and then—

she snaps her hips up once, sharp and fast. you scream.

“you feel that?” she growls, pulling you back down by your waist and grinding you into her. “that’s what i fuckin’ do to you.”

“v-vi, oh my god—”

“that’s not my name, baby,” she snarls in your ear, dragging your hips up just to slam you back down. “try again.”

“mommy,” you gasp. “mommy, please—”

“oh, fuck, that’s more like it.” she grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back just enough to watch your face twist with every bounce. “that’s my fuckin’ girl. so tight around me. so pretty when you cry.”

your thighs are burning now, pace stuttering as your orgasm starts to build too fast, too sharp.

“can’t—can’t hold it—”

vi’s hand snakes up to your throat, not tight, just there. just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

“you will,” she whispers. “you’ll fuckin’ take it, and you’ll look me in the eyes while you do it.”

you do.

eyes glossy, lips parted, drool slipping past the corner of your mouth. and vi—vi groans like she’s going insane.

“oh, baby. you look ruined already. that cock got your brain all fuzzy, huh?” she lets go of your throat and slides her hand between your legs, thumb finding your clit, circling it rough and fast. “cum for me. now. i wanna feel it.”

you cry out so loud it echoes, body seizing around her, thighs clenching as you grind into her with messy, needy thrusts. your pussy pulses around the strap and your vision blurs.

but vi’s not done.

“again.”

you shake your head, weakly. “i c-can’t—”

“yes, you fuckin’ can.” she slaps your ass once—hard. “ride me until you cry. i’m not lettin’ you off this cock until you give me everything.”

so you do. you bounce, you grind, you sob into her shoulder until your second orgasm rips through you like fire. and vi’s holding your hips in place, panting in your ear, telling you over and over—

“that’s it. that’s my girl. fuckin’ melt for me.”

when you finally collapse against her, twitching and sore and gasping for breath, vi pulls the strap out slowly, watching your slick coat the toy, watching your thighs tremble with aftershocks.

then she tosses it aside and holds you tight.

“hey. you with me?” she murmurs, her voice softer now, no teasing—just concern.

you nod faintly, still panting. “y-yeah. fuck.”

she kisses your temple. “you were so good for me. so fuckin’ beautiful when you break like that.”

her fingers are already between your legs again, gentle this time, rubbing soothing circles.

“next time,” she whispers, lips against your neck, “i’m gonna make you beg to stay on it.”

you moan, boneless in her arms. “next time?”

vi laughs softly. “baby. we’re just getting started.”

caitlyn kiramman

it’s not the first time she’s kissed you breathless. but it is the first time you’re in her lap like this—naked, trembling, thighs straddling her hips, her strap already slicked with lube and waiting.

caitlyn’s posture is perfect as always: back straight, gloves removed, shirt open at the collar, the toy strapped between her thighs like it’s a weapon holstered in silk. her hands are on your waist—steady, unshakable, like they were molded for holding you there.

you shift slightly, and the strap rubs against your entrance.

you freeze.

caitlyn notices. of course she does.

she lifts her eyes to yours, voice smooth as honey over marble. “talk to me.”

you breathe in, shaky. “i… i want to do it. just— i’m scared.”

she hums, thoughtful. her thumbs rub lazy circles into your hips. “do you want me to guide you through it?”

you nod.

a slow smile spreads across her lips, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes—not because she isn’t soft with you, but because even her softness feels dangerous. controlled. commanding. like everything she does is calculated to ruin you just right.

“very well, sweetheart.” she leans forward, lips brushing your ear. “do everything i say. breathe when i tell you to. move when i guide you. understood?”

you nod again, whispering, “yes, caitlyn.”

a low laugh hums in her throat. “good girl.”

she shifts beneath you, lining the strap up with your entrance. you can feel how soaked you are already—nerves, want, fear, all twisted together like a bow being pulled tight.

caitlyn tilts your chin up with two fingers.

“eyes on me,” she says softly. “inhale.”

you breathe in.

“now sink down—slowly.”

you obey. inch by inch, the strap presses into you, thick and unyielding but perfectly guided. you gasp, legs shaking already, clinging to her shoulders as your body stretches to take her.

“there you go,” caitlyn murmurs, eyes locked on your face, watching every twitch of pleasure and fear. “doing so well already. you feel that stretch? that fullness? that’s mine.”

you let out a soft moan. she’s not even halfway in and you already feel like you’re losing your mind.

“don’t rush,” she whispers. “i want you to feel every inch.”

you push down further, breathing ragged, and finally, you bottom out.

caitlyn exhales slowly, like she’s the one getting fucked.

“look at you,” she whispers, almost reverent. “sitting on my cock so sweetly. you were made for this.”

you whimper against her shoulder.

“now,” she continues, voice sharper, “rock your hips for me. gently. just like that.”

you begin to move. a slow, desperate grind—barely lifting off her before sliding back down. the pressure inside you makes your thighs tremble, but it’s the voice that keeps you going. her instructions. her praise.

“good girl. good. you’re doing so well.”

caitlyn’s hands move to your ass, gripping you tighter now, helping guide your pace.

“take a bit more, darling. that’s it. look at you—bouncing already.” her smile is deadly. “and here i thought you were nervous.”

you’re riding her properly now—hips rising and falling, the strap gliding in and out of you with slick ease. your moans are ragged, needy, and caitlyn is drinking them in.

her hand snakes up your spine, elegant fingers threading through your hair.

“let me hear you,” she murmurs. “tell me how it feels.”

you can barely speak, gasping, “s-so good, i— i feel so full—”

“i know, darling.” she kisses the corner of your jaw. “you are full. you’re stuffed with me. you look divine like this.”

her free hand snakes between your legs. her fingers press against your clit—deft, trained, precise.

you cry out, grinding down harder.

“more?” she asks, tilting her head.

you nod frantically. “please.”

“then keep going. you’re in control, but you’ll take what i give you.”

the strap starts to hit that perfect spot with every grind, and you lose your rhythm—hips stuttering, moans falling apart in caitlyn’s ear. you reach for her shoulders again, desperate, your thighs burning with effort.

she notices your struggle instantly and adjusts her position. holds you tighter. slides her hand up your chest to press against your sternum—grounding you.

“shh… i’ve got you.”

and then she starts thrusting up into you.

not wild. not messy. but deep, sharp, timed perfectly with the roll of your hips.

you scream.

“c-caitlyn—”

“that’s it, sweetheart,” she growls, her composure cracking. “ride me. cry for me. let go.”

your orgasm hits like lightning. it rips through your body and you collapse forward with a sob, shaking in her arms, thighs spasming as your walls clench down on her strap.

she doesn’t stop moving.

“still with me?” she whispers into your hair, her thrusts slowing. “one more. give me one more.”

you nod helplessly, tears clinging to your lashes. “y-yes…”

she lifts you slightly, angles her hips, and fucks up into you harder this time—deeper, rougher, her breath right against your mouth as she praises you between thrusts.

“perfect.” “taking me so well.” “you belong here.” “you’re mine.”

your second orgasm breaks you. you scream her name, body going limp as you collapse into her arms, sobbing into her shoulder, cunt still twitching around her strap.

she slows. stops.

and holds you.

she brushes the damp hair from your forehead, kisses your temple, and whispers, “you did beautifully, darling. i’m so proud of you.”

you cling to her like you’re drowning.

“i… i love when you talk to me like that,” you whisper. “like you’re still in control. even when i’m the one on top.”

she chuckles softly. “oh, my sweet girl…” her arms tighten around you. “i’m always in control.”

cassandra kiramman

“you said you wanted to prove something tonight,” cassandra murmurs, silk slipping off her voice like wine off crystal. “so prove it.”

you’re in her lap.

literally. naked. knees bracketing her thighs. the heavy strap between your legs makes your muscles tense and your heart flutter like a frightened thing in a cage.

cassandra is fully dressed beneath you—silk shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease, dark trousers tailored to hell, long legs spread just enough for the strap to jut up between them. the toy is strapped tight to her, perfectly aligned, and her gloved hands rest calmly on your hips. waiting.

and you?

you’re trembling.

“i-i can do it,” you whisper, eyes avoiding hers.

“i know you can,” she replies, voice too soft to be safe. “but i want you to look at me when you do it.”

you meet her gaze.

she looks so calm. so poised. but there’s a hunger there, buried deep behind those eyes. a predator in pearls. her jaw flexes as she exhales slowly, fingers tightening on your hips.

“good girl,” she murmurs. “now… take a breath. and start sinking down.”

you obey, inch by inch, your slick heat stretching around the thick head of her strap. you gasp, hands gripping her shoulders as your legs shake.

cassandra doesn’t move. she doesn’t push or thrust or guide. she just sits there like a throne for you to worship, her voice your leash.

“that’s it. you’re doing so well.” her eyes flick down, watching the way you swallow her strap. “you’re so tight, baby. so warm around me. look how easily your pretty little body opens for me.”

you cry out, overwhelmed, thighs trembling as the strap fills you to the hilt.

“slow,” she reminds you. “i want you to feel it. every inch.”

your breath stutters. she doesn’t stop watching you. one hand lifts—gloved fingers trailing from your jaw down to your chest, resting just above your heart.

“can you hear that?” she murmurs. “you’re fluttering like a scared thing.”

you nod, wide-eyed. “it’s… a lot.”

she smiles—soft, indulgent, and wicked. “of course it is. that’s the point.”

you start to ride.

slowly. nervously. your rhythm wobbles, thighs burning as you rise and fall on her cock, skin slapping wetly, eyes already glossy.

cassandra groans softly, breath warm against your cheek. “you look divine like this. so young, so sweet, fucking yourself open just to impress me.”

“i—i want to make you feel good—”

“oh, darling,” she interrupts, voice like velvet and ice, “you already do.”

her hand slides to your throat—gloved, firm, not choking, just holding. like a reminder. like a promise.

“i could sit here and watch you ruin yourself on me all night,” she purrs. “keep going.”

you bounce harder. faster. your moans grow louder, needier, your pace sloppy with desperation.

she chuckles, low. “there it is. that perfect little sound. cry for me, baby.”

your climax hits without warning—tight, fast, devastating. you cry out her name as your body collapses forward, shaking in her lap.

but cassandra doesn’t let go.

she wraps an arm around you, holding you in place as your cunt pulses around the strap still inside you.

“that’s my girl,” she breathes against your temple. “my sweet, obedient thing.”

when your breathing steadies, you whisper, “i want to do more…”

she hums, fingers stroking your thighs. “you will. but not tonight.”

“why not?”

cassandra lifts your face to hers, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

“because i want you to ache for it next time.”

sevika

the room smells like smoke and sweat. you’re straddling her thighs, naked and shaky, thighs trembling from how long she’s been teasing you.

sevika’s sprawled out on the worn couch, arm slung over the backrest, cigar still burning between two fingers. her shirt’s unbuttoned just enough for you to glimpse the top of her chest tattoo. her strap? slicked, thick, and positioned between her legs like it belongs there.

you shift your hips and it presses right up against your soaked folds, and you flinch.

“scared?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.

“no—nervous,” you whisper.

she exhales a puff of smoke and scoffs. “same thing, baby.”

you bite your lip, shoulders tense.

she watches you like you’re something fragile about to break—or something she’s about to break on purpose. then, slowly, sevika brings the cigar to her lips again, inhales, and speaks with that voice like gravel and heat:

“you wanna be good for me? then ride.”

you nod, hands braced on her shoulders.

“talk me through it,” you plead. “please.”

her eyes narrow, but the corner of her mouth twitches—almost like she likes hearing you beg.

“yeah?” she grunts. “alright. i’ll talk you through it.”

she tosses the cigar into the tray beside the couch, grabs the base of the strap, and lines it up for you.

“start slow,” she murmurs. “just the tip. let me see that pretty pussy stretch for me.”

you sink down just enough to feel the thick head part your folds and whimper, your breath hitching.

sevika’s hand grips your hip. tight.

“there you go. fuck. look at that—already drippin’ all over me.”

you tremble, inching down further.

“breathe. that’s it. take me slow. you can take more. yeah… that’s my fuckin’ girl.”

you slide down all the way and cry out.

her hands stay on your hips, grounding you, pressing you deeper onto her lap.

“fuckin’ hell…” she groans. “you feel that? you’re stuffed full, baby. can feel you twitchin’ already.”

you nod, tear-eyed. “it’s so much…”

she leans forward, grabs your jaw. “you said you wanted it. so ride. i’m not doin’ the work for you tonight.”

so you ride.

slowly at first—desperate, whimpering, fucking yourself on her strap while her thighs flex under you. sevika watches. burns you alive with that stare.

and then—she growls, deep and hungry.

“faster.”

you obey. bouncing now, your moans spilling out, cunt squeezing around the strap with every slap of skin on skin.

she grabs your neck. not tight. just claiming it.

“look at you,” she pants, jaw clenched. “riding like a good fuckin’ girl. you want me to cum just from watchin’? is that it?”

“i—wanna make you feel good—”

she laughs—sharp, wrecked.

“you already do, baby. fuck, you got no fuckin’ clue what you do to me.”

you stutter, grinding harder, your orgasm curling tight in your belly.

“sevika—please—i’m gonna—”

“then fuckin’ do it.”

she grabs your hips and slams you down once, deep and hard, and you scream as your orgasm rips through you, body going limp against her.

she holds you there.

lets you twitch. lets you sob into her neck.

then she presses a kiss to your shoulder and mutters, voice low and ruined:

“…did so good, baby. fuck. you’re mine.”

jinx

your thighs are shaking.

the strap-on’s already lined up against your soaked pussy, thick and veiny and bright pink—because of course jinx picked the most ridiculous toy at the shop—and she’s lying back on the floor of her workshop, grinning up at you like she’s watching her birthday present unwrap itself.

her hands are behind her head like she’s lounging, and her long legs are lazily spread, the harness snug against her hips.

you’re on top. naked. nervous. soaked.

and she’s waiting.

“what’s the hold up, cupcake?” she purrs, her tone sickly sweet and taunting. “you said you wanted to ride me—now you look like a baby deer tryna walk for the first time. ‘cept your legs are full of cum instead of bones.”

you whimper. “can… can you talk me through it?”

jinx freezes. her grin widens. something feral flashes behind those pink-rimmed eyes.

“ohhhhhh,” she drawls, sitting up just a little. “so you want me to coach you through bouncing on my cock?”

you nod, eyes wide, lips parted.

she cackles. full body, head-thrown-back laughter.

“you’re soooo fucked, sugar.”

then her hands shoot out and yank you down by the waist so the head of her strap kisses your folds—hot, wet, right there.

you cry out. she doesn’t move.

“shhhh,” she whispers, voice suddenly soft and deadly, brushing her nose up your neck. “i’ll be nice. kinda. you ready?”

you nod.

“then sink down, slow like honey. let me watch you struggle, babygirl.”

you do.

the stretch is brutal. she picked the thickest one in the box. of course she did.

your nails dig into her shoulders as you try to take more of her, inch by inch, whining, your voice cracking.

jinx moans.

“fuuuck, look at you takin’ it. drippin’ already. you like when i stretch you out, huh? little slutty body just eats it up.”

you whimper, flushed and panting.

“almost there,” she whispers. “c’mon, cupcake. you can sit all the way down. you want me proud, don’tcha?”

you finally bottom out with a cry, trembling in her lap.

jinx growls and licks a stripe up your neck. “there it is. that’s my seat, huh?”

you start moving. slowly. up, down, hips shaking.

and she talks.

“faster, baby. use me. i’m not doing shit. you wanted this.”

“look at you—takin’ me so deep, you’re probably forgettin’ your own fuckin’ name.”

“go dumb on my cock, sugar. bounce like you mean it.”

you’re moaning, gasping, sobbing, and she’s laughing—hands now gripping your hips to help, pulling you down harder, rougher, her cock slamming into you.

“good fucking girl,” she snarls, eyes wide and wild. “make yourself cum on me. you’re not gettin’ off this strap till you’ve screamed my name.”

you do. loud. shaking. clinging to her like she’s the only thing keeping you together as you collapse into her lap and cum hard, crying, twitching on her cock.

she holds you, giggling against your neck.

“there’s my favorite little mess,” she whispers. “told ya i’d talk you through it.”

ambessa medarda

she’s seated in a leather chair like it’s her throne.

her suit jacket is off. her sleeves are rolled. her strap is already fixed to her hips, thick and dark, the leather harness gleaming under the soft golden light of her quarters.

you’re naked. straddling her. knees on either side of her thighs. hovering over the cock she’s watching you try not to flinch from.

and you? you’re shaking. breathless. wide-eyed.

ambessa notices.

of course she does.

her tone stays calm, cool. “you asked to be on top.”

you nod quickly. “i know, i just…”

“now you hesitate.”

you swallow. “can you talk me through it?”

her eyes narrow. but not in annoyance. in interest.

she shifts, sits up straighter. her large hands fall to your hips—deliberate, possessive.

“oh, my sweet girl…” she murmurs, low and amused. “you want to be in control, but still be led?”

you nod again, flushed and trembling.

she tilts her head. “then you’ll do exactly as i say.”

her voice is suddenly cold and sharp. her grip tightens.

“take a breath.”

you do.

“line yourself up. that’s it.”

you lower your hips, the thick head pressing against your entrance, slick and hot. you gasp.

ambessa watches you like she’s training a soldier and seducing a lover all in the same breath.

“now sink down. slowly. no crying until you’re full.”

you whimper.

“don’t start, little one. you wanted this. i’ll tell you when to stop.”

you begin to lower yourself onto her strap.

inch by inch. her cock stretching you open. your thighs burn. your breath stutters.

she doesn’t flinch.

“keep going. i want to watch your cunt take it all.”

you bottom out with a sob, trembling in her lap, face hidden in her shoulder.

her hands trace the curve of your ass, spreading you just slightly. she hums with approval.

“there,” she says, warm breath at your ear. “you took it. and you didn’t break.”

you shift—start to move—and she growls, low.

“not yet.”

you freeze.

“i didn’t tell you to move,” she whispers. “still.”

you obey.

ambessa kisses your temple. gentle. patronizing.

“good girl.”

then—

“now ride.”

you start slowly. her strap drags against your walls, thick and unrelenting.

ambessa leans back in the chair, her hand gripping one thigh, the other curling around your throat—not squeezing, just resting.

“up. down. let me see those hips.”

you move faster.

your moans grow louder. she exhales slowly, her jaw clenched, eyes locked on your fucked-out expression.

“you’re shaking. keep going.”

“i—i can’t—”

“you will.”

she grabs your waist and starts guiding you, thrusting up into you with just enough force to make your breath hitch.

“take it,” she growls. “you asked for this. asked to be led. now follow, girl.”

you ride her harder, your climax ripping through you—messy, wet, broken.

you sob her name and she pulls you close, keeps you there, lets you ride the aftershocks until your body goes limp.

only then does her hand stroke your back.

“there she is,” she murmurs, voice soft now. “my obedient little thing.”

ellie williams

you’re on top of her. straddling her lap. naked. shaking.

ellie’s got her backwards cap tossed on the nightstand, tank top pushed up, tattoos on full display, strap on and already slick with your arousal from earlier grinding.

she’s under you, legs spread, arms behind her head, green eyes locked on the way your cunt flutters just above her cock.

and you're frozen.

“i-i wanna ride you,” you whisper, “but i need you to talk me through it.”

ellie’s smirk falters.

her arms drop. her hands grab your thighs—hard.

“fuck.”

she swallows. voice lower now. realer.

“you want me to talk you through riding my cock?”

you nod, breath catching.

she exhales sharp through her nose, dragging her hands up to your hips.

“okay, baby. alright. i got you.”

she lines you up with one hand, the other sliding up your back.

“take a deep breath. you’re fuckin’ soaked—she wants it. just let her have it.”

you lower down slowly. the strap presses in, thick and hot. you gasp, clinging to her shoulders.

“thaaaat’s it, yeah. just like that. fuck, look at you. taking me so good.”

her voice is wrecked already, hands steady, not forcing—just guiding.

“go slow. feel all of it. let me watch you fall apart on this dick.”

you bottom out, hips flush, and she groans so hard her voice cracks.

“jesus christ—fuck—you feel that, baby? full now, huh?”

“y-yeah,” you whimper. “so full.”

“you gonna start movin’? or you just gonna sit there lookin’ like the prettiest fuckin’ picture i’ve ever seen?”

you lift your hips, shaky, then sink back down—and her hand flies up to grip your throat.

“that’s it. there’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

you start bouncing, desperate now, crying out with every thrust. the strap slams into you perfect, deep, thick.

ellie’s voice is constant.

“atta girl. fuckin’ ride it. use me.” “god—look at you. fallin’ apart on me.” “lemme hear you, baby. you sound so fuckin’ good like this.”

you’re close. so close.

ellie notices instantly—grabs your waist, slams you down harder.

“you gonna cum on me, huh? gonna make a mess on my cock?”

you nod helplessly, moaning.

“then do it. fuckin’ fall apart for me. you earned it.”

you cum hard, crying out, hips jerking. she holds you through it, arms wrapped around you, pressing kisses to your neck.

you’re panting, limp, shaking in her lap.

ellie’s voice turns soft. tender.

“you did so good, baby. fuckin’ melted for me.”

you breathe, forehead against hers.

“again?”

she grins.

“oh, we’re gonna be here all night.”

abby anderson

your thighs are burning.

you’re straddling abby’s lap, naked and flushed, hips hovering over her strap. it’s big—of course it is—and lube-slick, angled up between your legs while she leans back against the headboard, strong arms flexed behind her, chest heaving.

you’d been teasing her all night. until now. now you’re just—nervous.

“can… can you talk me through it?” you whisper.

abby blinks.

the request hits her like a gunshot to the chest.

“…shit,” she mutters, sitting up straighter. her big hands instantly find your waist. “yeah. yeah, of course i can, baby.”

she presses a kiss to your jaw. “take your time, okay? i’ve got you.”

her voice is so soft, but her grip is grounding, the kind of strength that makes you want to obey.

“start slow. just the tip first, alright?”

you nod, lining yourself up, the head slipping past your folds—and you gasp.

“there it is. good girl. you’re already so wet for me.”

you sink a little deeper.

abby groans.

“jesus… fuck. that’s it, baby. just breathe.”

she slides one hand to your lower back, keeping you steady as you take more, inch by inch, her cock stretching you perfectly.

“almost there. you can do this. you’re so good for me.”

you finally bottom out, body shaking.

abby pulls you in close, kissing your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist like you’re the most precious thing she’s ever touched.

“you okay?”

you nod breathlessly. “y-yeah.”

she brushes your hair back.

“then ride me, baby. c’mon. i wanna feel you fall apart.”

you move.

slowly, rhythmically, hips rising and falling—and she talks you through every single thrust.

“that’s it.” “good fuckin’ girl.” “you’re takin’ all of me, huh?” “look at that. you’re so pretty like this.”

your moans start getting louder, messier, hands digging into her shoulders as your body pulses and trembles with each bounce.

her arms? wrapping tighter. helping lift you. pulling you down just right.

“you close, baby?” she murmurs.

“mmhmm—s-so close—”

“then cum. right here. in my arms.”

you do.

you break. writhing in her lap, sobbing her name, soaking her strap and thighs as your climax rips through you. abby holds you the whole time—breath hot in your ear, hand rubbing circles into your back.

“good girl,” she breathes. “you did so good for me. so fuckin’ perfect.”

you slump against her chest, boneless and crying soft, happy tears.

“can i do it again?” you mumble.

she kisses your forehead.

“you can ride me as many times as you want, baby. i’m not going anywhere.”

mizu

you’re in her lap. naked. knees tucked tight against her hips. her strap is thick, cold, perfectly still between your legs. mizu hasn’t moved.

she’s leaning back slightly, sleeves rolled, harness buckled and still—watching. waiting.

her blue eyes flick down to your trembling thighs. then back up. she doesn’t ask why you’re shaking. she knows.

and when you whisper—quiet, afraid, “can you talk me through it?”— she tilts her head.

“say it again.”

you look up at her, flushed, eyes wide. “c-can you… talk me through it? please?”

mizu closes her eyes like she’s trying to breathe through something tight. like she’s in pain.

“…fine,” she mutters. “i’ll guide you.”

she spreads her knees wider beneath you. the strap shifts—black leather, perfectly fitted—and her hands move to your hips.

“start slow,” she says quietly. “no noise. just breathe.”

you lower yourself onto her strap, inch by inch, gasping softly at the stretch. the toy presses deep, thick and slick, and her grip tightens on your hips like she’s barely keeping still.

“that’s it. take all of it. don’t stop halfway.”

you gasp, thighs shaking.

“you’re twitching,” mizu murmurs. “you wanted this. you can take it.”

you bottom out with a cry, trembling in her lap. mizu exhales slowly, jaw clenched.

“you’re full now. good.”

you start to ride.

slow, broken bounces. your body rocks, mouth open in gasping moans—and she watches. still. silent. but her fingers flex against your skin.

“faster.”

you move quicker. slick sounds echo in the air. your moans grow high, desperate, too loud—until she snaps.

“quiet.”

she grabs your jaw, pulls you in close.

“you’re already falling apart?” she whispers, almost cruel. “i haven’t even moved.”

she slams her hips up once—hard—and you scream.

“again,” she says flatly.

you bounce harder, sloppy, overwhelmed—and mizu finally grips your waist, guiding you, slamming you down onto her cock with ruthless control.

“you wanted my voice,” she growls in your ear. “then listen.”

you sob as your orgasm hits, shaking and pulsing on her strap, clinging to her shoulders.

mizu holds you there. breath heavy. one hand in your hair, the other still locked on your waist.

“…you did well.”

you nod, tear-eyed. “thank you…”

her lips graze your throat.

“next time,” she whispers, “you’ll ask before you get on top.”

[missdynamighttt]

i can TOTALLY see date night with husband! katsuki going something like this when something comes up...

after months of late patrols, injuries, missions that pulled him across cities and time zones, you had wrangled him into a firm promise: one night off, just the two of you.

you’d picked the restaurant weeks in advance. the reservation was in an hour. you’d spent all afternoon getting ready—curling your hair just right, finding a dress that would knock him on his ass.

and it had. the second he’d seen you walk out of the bedroom, he’d choked on his water, muttered a swear under his breath, and kissed your shoulder with a reverence that told you tonight might end with a lot more than just dessert.

it was supposed to be your night. but then, as it always seemed to happen when katsuki bakugo made plans, the world decided to fall apart.

"honey," he called from the bedroom, voice already sharp with urgency.

you paused, looking up to the sound of his voice. "what?"

"where's my costume?"

your eyes narrowed, though he couldn’t see them from the hallway. "what?"

"where. is. my. costume?!" he barked, louder now. you could hear drawers opening. hangers scraping.

"i, uh… put it away."

there was a pause. the kind of silence where you could practically hear the twitch in his eye. "where?"

you smoothed your dress down, lips twitching with something between guilt and mischief. "why do you need to know?"

he came stomping out of the bedroom, shirt halfway buttoned, wild-eyed and seething. “i need it—”

"uh-uh!" you stood your ground, arms crossing your chest as you cut him off. "don’t you dare think about running off after doing no dating do. we’ve been planning this dinner for two months."

“the public is in danger!”

“my evening is in danger!”

he blinked. “you—what—you tell me where my suit is, woman! we are talking about the greater good!"

you glared, chin tilted high. "greater good? i am your wife. i’m the greatest good you are ever gonna get."

something in him cracked.

he opened his mouth—probably to argue, to huff something self-righteous and morally correct—but his eyes flicked down. just a fraction. just enough to notice the tiny detail you’d hoped he wouldn’t.

but he did.

“you’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

you swallowed hard. “what?”

he stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “you’re wearing it.”

you froze. “i—no i’m—”

“under the dress,” his voice dropped, low and dangerous. “you’re wearin’ my goddamn hero suit under that dress.”

he didn’t wait. his hands were on you in seconds—calloused fingers curling into the fabric at your waist, dragging the silk up with absolutely no care for delicacy.

“hey!” you yelped, trying to pull back, but he caught you easily. “this was expensive!”

“i’ll buy you ten more,” he muttered, yanking the dress up over your head in one swift motion and tossing it onto the couch. “you’re wearin’ my fuckin’ shit? you hid it from me?”

you stood there in just his compression suit—and the look on his face was equal parts disbelief and awe. his mouth parted, red eyes scanning every inch of you like he couldn’t decide whether to scold you or worship you.

“katsuki…” you started.

he stepped back, swore under his breath, dragged a hand down his face. he looked like he’d just been sucker punched.

you stood there in just his compression suit—and the look on his face was equal parts disbelief and awe. his mouth parted, red eyes scanning every inch of you like he couldn’t decide whether to scold you or worship you.

“i’m sorry,” he muttered, gruff and low. his voice was barely a whisper, like the words physically hurt him to say. “i… i’m sorry.”

you blinked, stunned. “you are?”

he nodded, jaw clenched tight, not meeting your eyes. “yeah. i… i always fuckin’ do this. i swear i won’t bail, and then i do. you go out of your way, wearin’ this, lookin’ like that, and i’m still ready to run.”

his hands found your waist. gentle. careful. he dipped his head, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, breathing you in.

“i promise,” he said, voice raw. “i’ll make it up to you. after this. i swear on my life, baby.”

you exhaled slowly, fingers threading into his hair. “you better.”

he huffed a laugh into your skin, grip tightening. “when i get back, i’m rippin’ it off you.”

“you already are,” you muttered, deadpan.

his grin was pure sin. “then i’m doin’ it properly next time.”

you sighed, reaching behind your neck and unclasped the modified top of his suit. the zipper came down slowly, teeth rasping together like a dare, and in one practiced motion, you shimmied out of it. the fabric fell to the floor in a quiet heap.

you stood there, bare, glowing in the soft light of the living room, chest rising with steady breath and a look in your eyes that wasn’t begging—but wasn’t not, either.

“katsuki.”

he turned fully, and the breath left him like someone had socked him in the gut. he stared.

you stood in nothing but the heels you’d bought just for tonight, his suit at your feet, the remnants of your dress a crumpled puddle on the couch. and you just looked at him like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“i said,” you repeated, stepping closer, “here."

you bent down slowly, god, too slowly—and picked the suit up by the collar. walked it over to him with a soft, unreadable smile, like you weren’t actively lighting his self-control on fire.

“you wanted it, right?” you asked sweetly, voice too innocent. “take it.”

katsuki didn’t move.

his eyes traveled over your skin like he was memorizing it. like if he blinked, you might vanish and he’d never forgive himself for looking away.

he didn’t take the suit from your outstretched hands.

instead, he dropped to his knees.

“fuck,” he muttered, clutching the fabric in both hands like it might keep him from losing his mind. “you—shit, babe, that’s not fair.”

“life’s not fair,” you whispered, brushing a hand through his hair. “but i waited. i’ve been patient. so, if you’re gonna go…”

you leaned down until your mouth was beside his ear, every syllable laced in honey and fire. “then take it from me.”

his fingers twitched. his jaw flexed. but still, he didn’t move.

“you’re gonna make me late,” he growled, voice low and almost helpless.

“you’ll be later if you don’t get your ass moving,” you teased. “but by all means, stay.”

he groaned, actually groaned—like the choice was killing him.

“shit… baby…"

it took him a second to rise, and he didn’t look at you as he changed, probably because if he did, you knew damn well he wouldn’t make it to the front door. you’d broken him. maybe just a little. you knew what you were doing.

and he knew you knew.

when he finally pulled the last gauntlet on and reached for the doorknob, he paused again. glaring, flushed, half-wrecked with the image of you standing there like a walking fantasy he couldn’t touch.

“i’m comin’ back here in under an hour,” he warned, voice hoarse. “don’t get dressed. don’t move. don’t even breathe too sexy.”

you smirked. “that sounds like a you problem.”

he pointed a gloved finger at you. “you’re evil."

“you married me.”

“and i’d fuckin’ do it again.”

and with a final kiss to your cheek, he turned and bolted toward the door—but for once, lighter on his feet, like he couldn’t wait to come home.

‎‧₊˚���[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ inspired by this incredibles scene💗💗 hope you guys enjoyed!!

[gf2bellamy]

okay bc tell me why i’m also in that hotch obsession phase.. if u don’t mind writing recs for him — hear me out: both lawyer!reader and his’ stubborn asses having an argument and you start setting up to sleep in the guest room or on the couch and hotch is just like what are u doing??

stubborn — aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: lawyer!reader , argument, reader is mad at hotch , a/n: hii !! i havent written for hotch in ages sooo forgive me if this isn't good

“Okay, I’m done talking about this.” You stood abruptly from the kitchen table, both hands raised in surrender, not the calm kind. The kind that came after a long, thankless day and a disappointment too many.Aaron stayed seated for a second, then pushed back his chair and followed you out of the kitchen. But you didn’t look back as you walked away, your socked feet padding softly against the hardwood.

"No," he said, following you into the hallway. "We need to talk about this."

“Aaron, I get it,” you snapped, not looking back. “You’re too busy to come.” You didn’t sound like you “got it” at all.

This was supposed to be something, a major trial, and you’d asked, just once, if he could be there. You’d seen him hesitate earlier, mumbling about the BAU’s schedule and not being sure it would work out.Between your clients snapping at you, case files mysteriously vanishing from your desk, and the scalding coffee that had spilled down your blouse in the courthouse lobby, you were at your limit. And Hotch’s hesitation, his quiet, infuriating "I’m not sure if it’ll work with work", had been the tipping point.

“I’ll try to make it,” he offered quietly behind you. His hand settled on your shoulder.

You didn’t even hesitate. Your shoulder shifted just enough to let his hand fall away as you walked into the bathroom. The overhead light flicked on. You avoided looking at him directly, reaching up instead to remove the clips from your hair with trembling fingers.

Click. One pin. Click. Another. Each clink against the porcelain sink echoed louder than it should have.When your eyes finally found his in the mirror, your voice was soft, but the chill in it was unmistakable.

“Don’t worry about it, Aaron. I'll manage just fine on my own.”

Behind you, Hotch watched you in the mirror. His jaw was tight, his dark eyes searching yours. But you didn’t turn around.The way you said his name made his expression flicker. He knew what it meant. Knew that when you repeated it like that, when your tone went flat and cool, forgiveness wasn’t on the table. Not yet. His hand, still hovering where you’d shaken him off, finally dropped to his side.

You took your time unraveling the mess of your hair, fingers dragging through the strands with deliberate slowness. ( Something he usually did for you. )

The bathroom light buzzed softly, filling the silence. In the doorway, Aaron lingered. You could see him in the mirror, arms crossed, brows slightly drawn, trying to find the right words. But you didn’t give him the chance.

“I’m going to take a shower now,” you said, calm but cold, your tone clear enough that it wasn’t just about hygiene.

It was a dismissal. He hesitated for a beat, as if trying to decide whether to push further or retreat. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away. You shut the door with a soft click and leaned back against it, releasing a slow breath. You knew you were being petty. You could admit that much to yourself.

Aaron had come to every single one of your trials, without fail. Sat in the back row, out of the way, sometimes still in his dress shirt and tie from work. He always gave you that same look when it was over: proud, warm, a touch of awe in his eyes. And then the hug, God, the way his arms wrapped around you afterward made the chaos of the courtroom melt away.

This was the first time he couldn’t make it. And, of course, it had to be this trial, your biggest one yet. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but the thought of looking up and not seeing him there, not catching that faint smile of his across the room, hurt. A lot.

The shower helped a little. The hot water washed away the day’s tension, but not the sting under your skin. When you stepped out and reached for your clothes, you realized with a sigh that the only things left in the bathroom were your favorite black shorts… and Aaron’s shirt, slung over the towel rack.

The one he’d worn last weekend, the one that still carried the faintest trace of his cologne. You hesitated, jaw tightening. Then, with a frustrated sigh, you yanked it over your head.

You hated that it made you feel better.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the apartment was quiet. The lights were off in most of the rooms, bathed instead in the faint moonlight filtering through the windows.

You paused near the kitchen.

Even in the dim light, you could see the dishes had been washed and the counters wiped clean. The plate of food you hadn’t finished, because you were too upset to eat, was neatly packed away in the fridge. Aaron had done it, without saying a word. You felt a small pang of guilt tug at your chest.

But then your mind circled back to the trial. To that awful, hollow feeling of imagining the courtroom without him in it. Just like that, the guilt was overtaken by that sharp ache again. You didn’t want to feel it. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to hear reasonable explanations or I’ll try my best or you know how the job is.

So, you did the one thing your stubborn, exhausted mind told you to do.

You walked into the bedroom, still wearing his shirt, where Aaron sat on the edge of the bed, a file open in his hands. He looked up the second you entered. His eyes flicked over you, shirt, damp hair, tired expression, and then back to your arms, where you were gathering a spare pillow and blanket.

He set the file aside instantly. “What are you doing?” he asked, brows drawing together as he stood slowly.

“Getting ready for bed,” you mumbled without meeting his eyes, fussing with the blanket as you tucked it under your arm and turned away.You didn’t have to say anything else. You didn’t need to. He followed you out into the hallway.

“You’re sleeping on the couch?” he asked, voice low but tinged with concern.

“Yes.” You dropped the pillow onto the couch, smoothing the blanket over the cushions with more force than necessary. Your back was turned to him.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said gently from behind you, stepping closer until he was just a few feet away. You didn’t reply. Instead, you lowered yourself onto the couch, still avoiding his eyes, your fingers tugging absently at the edge of the blanket.

“I’m going to try and make it,” he said. “I only brought it up because I didn’t want to promise something and let you down. But sweetheart… I swear I’ll try.”

The sound of him crouching in front of you made you finally glance up. He was kneeling now, trying to meet your gaze, his voice laced with sincerity. You pouted just slightly, more from emotional exhaustion than actual defiance, and he took that as permission to rest his hands gently on your knees.

“I don’t want you sleeping out here,” he murmured, thumbs beginning to draw slow circles over the fabric of your shorts.

You didn’t say anything at first. “I just like having you there in court,” you mumbled eventually, voice barely above a whisper. You were looking at his hands, not his eyes, but the words were honest.His expression softened instantly. The crease between his brows eased, his shoulders dropping just slightly.

"I like being there too," he admitted, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. His thumb resumed its gentle circles on your knee. "And I know this is a big trial for you."

A involuntary shiver ran through you at the reminder, your fingers tightening slightly in the fabric of your shorts.

"I was reading about it and-"

"You read about it?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them, your eyes widening slightly in surprise. That tiny flicker of eye contact made his smile grow. 

“What do you think I was doing in the bedroom just now?” he asked, tilting his head. There was a trace of smugness in his tone.

"Oh." The single syllable escaped in a breathy exhale as you felt some of the weight lift from your chest. Without realizing it, your shoulders relaxed slightly, the rigid line of your spine softening. His hands felt warmer now where they rested against your skin, the earlier anger ebbing away.

“But like I said,” Aaron murmured, continuing those slow, soothing circles against your knees. The muscles in his legs protested from crouching so long, but he gave no indication of discomfort beyond the faint tightening of his jaw. “I will try to make it.”

You shifted slightly at his words, your pout threatening to return, but before it could fully form, he gently pressed a finger to your bottom lip.

“Hey,” he said softly, eyes intent on yours. “I know you’re going to do amazing. Just like you always do.”

His hand moved tenderly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You leaned into the touch almost instinctively, your cheek resting in his warm, calloused palm. Your eyes fluttered shut at the familiar comfort of it, at how easily he could melt you without even trying. Taking your silence as a cue, he leaned in just a little and whispered, “Please come to bed.”

You didn’t answer right away. The emotional fog hadn’t entirely lifted, but it had lightened. You exhaled, a soft, resigned sigh escaping your lips.

“Fine.” You grumbled, but there was no bite left in your voice.

Aaron smiled, just a small one, and let out a breath of relief, standing up slowly and offering you his hand. You took it, and in one gentle pull, he brought you to your feet and into his arms. The relief was immediate, both in the way his shoulders relaxed and the quiet exhale he released as he finally straightened his protesting legs. Your hands fisted in the back of his shirt instinctively.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he murmured into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.

"You should be," you muttered into the soft cotton of his shirt, your words muffled but your meaning clear. The vibration of his quiet laughter rumbled through his chest, and you felt the curve of his smile against your hair.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" His lips brushed your crown once more before he reluctantly loosened his hold, fingers sliding down to intertwine with yours as he guided you toward the bedroom, taking your blanket and pillow with him. You offered a half-hearted shrug but let him lead, your resistance fading with each step. The moment your legs brushed against the mattress, he drew you back into him, your body molding perfectly against his as if you were made to fit there.

"And you also can't hold grudges," he teased, his fingers idly tracing the seam of his shirt where it stretched across your shoulder.

"Hey!" You lifted your head sharply, only to have it gently pressed back into place by his hand. "That wasn't intentional - it was the only thing in the bathroom," you protested, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way you instinctively nuzzled closer.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he hummed, the words laced with amused disbelief as his palm smoothed down your back in slow, comforting circles.

The sheets rustled as he shifted, one hand sliding beneath the hem of the shirt, his shirt, to press against the small of your back.

"You’re still mad," he observed, though his voice held amusement.

"Mm. Maybe." You curled closer, your lips grazing his collarbone.

A pause.

"You know," he murmured, his voice a low rumble you felt more than heard, "I was thinking of sitting in the front row this time." His thumb brushed a particularly sensitive spot between your shoulder blades, drawing an involuntary shiver. "That way you can't miss me when you're tearing the prosecution's case apart."

You tilted your head just enough to peer up at him through your lashes. "Front row? You never sit in the front row."

The corners of his eyes crinkled as his hand came up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "For this case? I'd sit on the witness stand if it meant seeing that fire in your eyes when you cross-examine."

[cherry-zip]

─ • CSC .ᐟ Heaven

› content ┆ Choi Seungcheol x fem reader ⊹ genre .ᐟ smut and cute ending ✎ word-count ┆ 3,2k. ⌁ summary ┆perhaps rambling about how hot Taemin was during his concert isn't such a bad idea when you're dating Seungcheol. ⨯ content warning .ᐟ smut with a little plot, jealous cheo (good way), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), coming inside, light bondage, light choking, coming inside.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated! › minor do not interact, you will be blocked

The concert was everything you’d dreamed of and more. Taemin’s voice echoed through the arena, powerful and mesmerizing, and his dancing—god, his dancing, was nothing short of breathtaking. Every move was sharp, precise, and dripping with charisma. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the stage, your lightstick waving wildly in sync with the crowd. By the time the final encore ended, your throat was raw from screaming, your eyes were red from crying at how unbelievable he was, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Getting to witness his talent in front of your eyes felt almost unreal.

As you made your way home, adrenaline still coursed through your veins; you couldn’t wait to tell Seungcheol all about it. You had been excited about the concert all week, talking nonstop about how much you loved Taemin’s music and how you couldn’t wait to see him perform live. Seungcheol had smiled and nodded along, but you knew that deep down, he couldn’t help but feel a little… insecure. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. But he had been so sweet earlier, listening to you gush while helping you get ready, even though you knew he wasn’t exactly Taemin’s biggest fan—for boyfriend reasons. But that was one of the things you loved about him—he always supported you, even when it came to your slightly obsessive fangirling.

When you finally unlocked the door to your apartment, still clutching the lightstick to your chest, you were greeted by the soft glow of the living room lights. Seungcheol was lounging on the couch, phone in hand, looking effortlessly handsome in his oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. He glanced up as you walked in, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “How was the concert?”

You dropped your bag by the door and practically floated over to him, your excitement bubbling over. “Oh my god, Seungcheol, it was incredible. Taemin is just… ugh, he’s so perfect. His dancing? His stage presence? His voice? I feel like I died and came back to life. I might actually be in love!”

You expected him to laugh or tease you like he usually did, but instead, his smile faltered for a split second before recovering, forcing a chuckle. “That good, huh?”

“The best!” you gushed, pulling out your phone. “You have to see the videos I took. He did this move during ‘Heaven’ where he—okay, just watch.” You leaned closer, holding your phone up so he could see the screen.

Seungcheol watched the video with a neutral expression, though you noticed his jaw tighten slightly as you narrated every move. “Wow,” he said when it ended, his tone dry. “He’s… really flexible.”

You laughed, completely missing the edge in his voice. “Right? His arms, his hips, and his abs—oh my god, don’t even get me started. I mean, I know you work out and everything, but Taemin is just on another level.”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his smile now firmly in place, though his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Is that so?”

You nodded enthusiastically, still scrolling through your photos. “Yeah, like, I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be that cute, hot, and talented at the same time. It’s not fair!”

He leaned back against the sofa, staring at your face as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking serious. “Sounds like I need to step up my game.”

You finally looked up, catching the hint of jealousy in his tone. “Aw, are you jealous?” you teased, poking the dimpled cheek you adored. “Don’t worry, babe. You’re still my number one.”

“Am I now?” he asked, his voice low and playful, though there was a darker edge beneath the surface. “Because it sounds like Taemin might be stealing my spot.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Never. You’re my Seungcheol. No one could ever replace you.”

He hummed, seemingly satisfied, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t quite done. Grabbing your chin so you had to look at him closely, he murmured, “Good. Because I think you need a reminder of who you belong to.”

Before you could respond, he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap, his hands firm against your hips. You squealed in surprise, dropping your phone on your lap as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “And I think it’s time you forget all about Taemin and only remember my name.”

You giggled, trying to squirm away, but his grip was unyielding. “Seungcheol, I was just kidding! You know you’re the only one for me.”

“Do I now?” he asked, his tone teasing but edged with something that made your breath hitch. “Because you were talking an awful lot about someone else’s abs.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a searing kiss, his hands sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed for an entirely different reason.

“Seungcheol…” you started, but he silenced you with another kiss, this one deeper and more demanding.

His tongue explored every corner of your mouth, playfully pulling out your own tongue and soothing every bite he gave to your bottom lip. He broke the kiss again, tugging your hair back so he could look at you—straddling him, flushed and beautiful. He loved seeing you like this, all completely wrecked for him. 

“Fuck, baby, you look so hot in this outfit. I can’t believe I let anyone else see you like this,” he muttered, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

“Gonna remind you why you’re mine tonight. I don’t want to hear his name again,” he said, his voice rough as he trailed kisses down your neck, making you shiver. “From now on, the only name you’ll be screaming is mine.”

You can’t help but whine. He knew how much his words affected you. He knew everything about you. He was confident when it came to understanding every inch of your body: how it looked, how it felt, how it tasted, how it reacted to his teasing. Tonight was just another example of you falling deeper under his spell, trapped in a hold you never really wanted to escape. And… you couldn’t help but love it.

He groaned deeply at your whine, sucking at your neck, leaving marks for everyone to see. He lifted his head to grab your thighs,picking you up as if you weighed nothing. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, clinging to him as his lips found yours again—knowing damn well you were about to protest with a breathless “I’m too heavy.”

“I’m strong enough”, he growled against your lips. 

He was right, you knew he was strong. Staring at his arms or his shoulders became a hobby of yours over time— especially when he was walking around shirtless at home, coming out of the shower, or even wearing one of those tight compression shirts you adored. He was working out to please himself and because he loves seeing you try to hide, secretly looking at his body without him looking. His ego felt good.

With ease, he starts walking up the stairs leading to your room. Unable to help himself, he gets carried away in you, having to stop and press your body against the wall, his kisses deeper than ever, travelling from your mouth down your neck. One harsh bite near your collarbone had you letting out a louder scream. He’s fueled by the desire to remind you that you belong to him. His kisses are getting faster, harsher than ever, his tongue wetting your skin with open-mouth kisses, the grip on your thighs tightening.

You honestly could not remember the last time you felt this wet, this good, this needy for more than kisses. All your thoughts and memories of the night flew out of your head—the only thing that mattered in that moment was Seungcheol and how you needed him more than ever.

You moan for more while he continues to attack your collarbones. He wasn’t gonna deprive you of your needs… even when being punished.

He continues to walk down the hallway, only stopping in front of your bedroom to open it - slamming it shut after entering. He drops you on the bed and starts undressing you, holding your wrists above your head with one hand, leaving kisses and bites all over your body. You're left at his mercy once your clothes are scattered around the room. He snatches a random tie of his from the closet and ties your wrists up to the bed frame. You couldn’t do anything, touch him, pull his hair, scratch his back, hold his biceps. You were only going to be able to scream his name tonight. 

Seungcheol looks down at you, smirking at what he is planning for you inside his head. The way he looked at you made you feel good inside your stomach; just his eyes on you could boost your confidence. Right now, it was a little bit different, you were so needy for him, you wanted him.

“Cheol, please, touch me.” You breathed out. However, he quickly shushed you and went down on your body, leaving kisses on his way between your legs. Grabbing your legs, he spread them apart, kissed the inside of your thighs while looking up to see your reactions. He loved seeing you close your eyes to savour this feeling, breathing heavier in anticipation. He couldn’t help but smile as he kissed and licked your pussy.

“Cheol- ah fuck.” Your back arched from the bed, your hips bucking into his mouth as his tongue entered your pussy. Rapidly increasing the speed of his movement inside you, his thumb found your clit. He was pressing and circling it just the way he knew would push you closer to the edge. 

“I’m so close, please don’t stop - please.” He sucks and licks harder at your inside, then everything stops. Seungcheol gets up from between your legs, licking his lips from your juice, smirking, watching you groan and squirming in need of release. 

“You really think I’m gonna let you come that easily?” Seungcheol sucks roughly on the hickey he placed above one of your nipples, biting into it making you moan in pleasure. “Want to cum so badly baby? You know how it is when you’re being punished.. Unless, do you still want Taemin ?”

“No,.. not Taemin. Just you, you, I want you.” You breathed out quickly, his face in your neck, his soft hair tickling your sensitive skin..

“You sure, baby? You seemed pretty excited about him just now.. Was I mistaken, or did something change your mind?” His fingers back to playing with your pussy, circling your clit with his thumb as two fingers slipped back into your hole. Moaning and dropping your head back as he moves his fingers inside you. Seungcheol groans against your neck as he feels your walls squeeze around his fingers. His dick was growing inside his grey sweatpants just from hearing you, the sounds you’re making was music to his ears. His fingers set a fast pace to drag you close to the edge again.

“Please ch-cheol. I’m sorry please - please fuck me.” You were desperate to come at this point, tears were forming in your eyes. Of course, Seungcheol couldn’t help but be satisfied, watching you stare at his face, mouth open, and glossy eyes. He wanted to make you forget about Taemin, and he did.

“Do you deserve it, baby ?” His smirk never leaves his face as he caresses your cheek with his other hand.

“YES! Please, yes, yes, yes! Cheol, I’m begging you.”

His gaze locked with yours—loving,  for just a moment–he felt so lucky to have you. He slipped his fingers out of you and untied your wrists, kissing each of them before turning you over onto your stomach. 

“On all fours, baby,” he demanded, tapping your hips and making room for you to undress. He unbuckled his belt and pants, throwing them across the room while you patiently waited on your knees with your ass on full display. You were growing impatient, swaying your ass in front of him, earning a firm slap for you to calm down. You could feel the mattress sink as Seungcheol positioned himself behind you, gripping your waist, dragging you closer to him. 

You knew he was smirking when you felt him tease your cunt with the tip of his cock, and it only grew wider when you whined for more. He continued teasing you, slowly pushing until he settled deep inside of you., resting for a moment, groaning as you squeezed around him - he was so big, you felt so full. He slowly slides out of you before gripping your waist tighter, thrusting into you without any warning. You moaned for more, needed more, you wanted him to move and almost destroy you from the inside. 

“Please, Cheol.. Harder”, he didn't say anything and simply chose to act. His thrusts were aggressive and deep. Your hands are holding on to the bed sheets to keep steady, gripping as he fucked you as hard as he could. You asked for it– from your behaviour and words– and he was delivering it all. Your hips matched his rhythm, meeting him in the middle of his thrusts, causing Seungcheol to groan at each thrust.

Your insides were twitching around him, which was hinting that your high was close. He knew you were close, and you honestly thought he was going to close down again, teasing you until the end, but you were so wrong. He slides out of you to turn you around so he could see your fucked out face. He thrusted deep into you, you threw your head back as your eyes rolled back. He loved seeing your reactions, his hand came to wrap around your throat, slightly squeezing it for you to look at him. Satisfied to see you look at him, mouth open, whining his name - he began to fuck you harder than before. His dick so big inside of you, none stop kissing that special spot of yours, pushing you further to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you told him, breath heavy.

“Seungcheol! I’m gonna cum, cheol..” you were panting but you got no answers. He didn’t seem to stop either, he kept his thrust inside of you steady.

“I’m not going to stop fucking your pretty pussy just yet. I’ll keep on going until I get to cum. I told you, I’ll make you remember only my name. You might as well scream it so loud even the neighbours know my name.” his grip on your throat was tighter, he meant every word he said. He didn't stop his movements, as if it was possible, he got rougher, making you come on the spot, and he kept going. 

You were completely fucked out for him, he was using you, making you his. You chanted his name over and over again, not growing tired of saying it. He won this time. 

Seungcheol’s groans got louder and louder. He called your name as his grip on your throat and waist tightened. He was on the edge of coming.

“Do you want me to come inside your pussy or no? Do you deserve it?” He asked, even throwing some more teasing as he was close to coming.

“Inside, I want you inside–please.”

And then, it hits you–you both came undone, hard, his trust deep, and stopped all his movements. You could feel your inside getting filled by his hot cum, coming so much your inside felt full. He pulled out of you smiling at himself to admire his work of art, his cum dripping out of you. He caressed your body, calming you as you came down from your high. This orgasm felt so good, your breath heavy as you watched him admire you, his eyes were full of love.

“Maybe I should make you jealous more often, it looks good on you”, you laughed at him and pulled him by the neck to kiss him on the lips.

“Shut up, I’m not jealous.” He had no reason to be; you were his, but you loved seeing him jealous regardless. You felt love.

The apartment was quiet again, the only sound you could hear was the soft rustling of sheets and mingled breaths. You lay curled against Seungcheol’s chest, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“So,” he said after a long moment, his voice casual but with a hint of amusement. “Still thinking about Taemin?”

You laughed, slapping his chest lightly. “Not even a little. You made sure of that.”

“Good,” he said, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “Just remember—you’re mine.”

“Always,” you replied, snuggling closer. “But just so you know, I’m totally going to his next concert.”

Seungcheol groaned, burying his face in your hair. “You’re impossible.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his chest. “And you’re jealous. But don’t worry—I’ll always come home to you.”

“You better,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind his words. “Or I’ll have to remind you again.”

You smiled, your eyes drifting shut. “I’m counting on it.”

You woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Seungcheol humming in the kitchen. You stretched lazily, your body was sore, but you wore a contented smile on your face as you remembered the events of the previous night. Seungcheol had definitely made his point, and you couldn’t help but feel a little smug about it.

You padded into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “Morning,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his shirtless back.

“Morning,” he replied, turning around to kiss you properly. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” you said with a grin. “Thanks to you.”

He smirked, handing you a cup of coffee. “Good. Just remember who’s responsible for that.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of the coffee. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning against the counter. “But you love me anyway.”

“I do,” you admitted, smiling up at him. “Even if you are a little jealous.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Jealous? Me? Never.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sure, Seungcheol. Whatever you say.”

He pulled you closer, his expression turning serious for a moment. “Just remember—you’re mine. No matter how many concerts you go to.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with affection. “I know. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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