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theamberparadise · 2 days ago

Note

Hello, This is my first time making a request on your block.

Can you do a NSFW and dating headcannon for Jeff the killer and ticci Toby x Jessica Rabbit like s/o ( separately ) , please

HI HONEY IM SO SORRY THIS WAS SO LATE TUMBLR DELETED MY 2K WORD DRAFT AND NOW I HAVE TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN IM SO SORRY

TICCI TOBY AND JEFF THE KILLER X JESSICA RABBIT READER

SYPNOSIS; How would Jeff and Toby react to reader who looks like Jessica Rabbit?

TWs; toxic relationship, blood

A/N; hi hon!! welcome to my blog!! im so sorry this was sooo late tumblr hates me sm, i hope you like this as much as i liked writing it!

ps! i assumed reader is also a killer.

"Seriously, what do you see in him?" "He makes me laugh."

TICCI TOBY

The first time he saw you, Toby was beyond bewildered. Were you real or were you another figment of his twisted imagination?

Nonetheless, his eyes were on you now. And he needs your eyes on him.

His first instinct? Flaunting his muscles at you whenever and wherever he can. Getting a glass of water? His shirt is suddenly off. Fixing yourself in front of the living room mirror? He mutters it’s hot then slowly rips off his jacket. Seeing him during training? He flexes his muscles a bit more.

He thinks this is a widely accepted way of getting girls when really it’s so awkward when he does it.

Second instinct? Getting as close to you as he possibly can just to sniff your scent. Even if you’re just leaning gracefully against a counter, he might walk in, head high, shoulders back while he leans right beside you. Not across, not near, beside. Like there aren't any more spots for him to lean on.

“Toby, hon,” you cleared your throat. “You’re getting a little close.” “Am I?” he cocks his head to the side. “My bad, I’ll move aside.”

He moves literally three inches away.

His third and final attempt? Leaving you gifts! Although it does leave you confuzzled.

One moment your Versace heels are there, and the next second, you hear your door close and now it’s gone. The next day, you wake up to see your Versace heels back again, with a pair of sword heels from Paciotti– in your size.

More of his gifts would include a sketchy brand of lotion from a drugstore, a cracked eyeshadow palette, and a seemingly used lipstick.

You appreciate his efforts but you couldn’t help but feel perplexed.

Once he notices you haven’t been saying “thank you” to him like you should be, he trudges to your door post-mission holding a bundle of snapped flowers that looked like they were pulled from a couple’s anniversary date (it was) with his breathing awry and ragged.

He keeps his eyes steady on yours. And as soon as you asked what was wrong, he shoves the bouquet in your face, like he didn’t cause you to have an allergic attack.

“Fuh–flowers. For y-you.” You gently press the cloud of petals down. “Okay, Toby– Okay, honey.”

He would still press his gaze onto you like you owed him something (which you did) and after about five minutes, he speaks once again. “Why ha-haven’t you wearing m-my gifts?”

You stay silent, backing away as your heel meets the floor again, your face looking to your side.

You feel his thumb and index gently hold your face in the right direction– where he is, and leans even closer than ever.

“I wa-want you. Do you want m-me t-too?”

Ever since you said yes to him, his ego had been fueled to the MAX.

If somebody even slightly mentions you, he’s on them and joining the conversation he had nothing to do with. “Oh, h-her? Yeah, I pu-pulled her. Not li-like you g-guys can do anything ab-about i-it,” that statement earns Toby a nasty black eye, of which he thankfully didn’t feel, but caused his face to swell for a week. He crawls back to you seeking validation even though it was him who started the mess.

He does anything and everything for you if it means he won’t lose a part of his pride like he did last time with Clockwork. Complaining about the heat melting your makeup off? He’s installing a new air conditioner. Notice a rip in your oh-so-glittery dress? He’s suddenly suitable as a surgeon. Need to detangle your hair? He’s treating it like a frail animal.

It’s the same when you’re on missions together. A rowdy victim scuffs your shoe? “That little sh-shit,” he’s off hacking the poor guy to hell.

He blushes shamelessly when you call him "my boy" or "my good little champ" while pinching his cheeks, makes him feel like one of those guys back in his middle school that would steal his crushes.

And although all of this seems sweet, it doesn’t mean it won’t have toxic tendencies.

His jealousy problems can overwhelm the relationship. He immediately jumps to conclusions every time he sees you hanging out with someone who’s not him. “Why were y-you looking at h-him? You’re not th-thinking of talking t-to him, are you?” “Did you go for a smoke with them j-just now? You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

It hurts, yes, but try to actually pursue another guy and he’ll come crying floods with his knees on the floor, gripping on your dress like it’s his life line.

"Toby, baby, no pulling, please." You try to snag the fabric gently from him. "No, no, no, no, don't leave me-- p-please no, I'm s'sorry," he chokes out, "Never again, hon, please,"

NSFW

The reason why he takes care of your hair so gently and attentively is because he likes to pull on it whenever he’s fucking you from behind or receiving a blowjob from you. Seeing you wince in pain while you’re so used to being taken care of by him is like cocaine.

He memorizes all the spots you like to reveal in your outfits just by him staring at you for hours on end. He uses this to his advantage and cheekily leaves bites on there.

Purposefully buys you makeup that isn't kiss proof just to see your lipstick stain his lips and his cock. Sometimes, he takes pictures of them and sends them to whoever was bullying him recently.

Have a meeting with the major proxies and need to orgasm in the middle of it? No worries, he’s under your dress sucking your clit like there’s no tomorrow.

Loves it when you wear heels during sex. He cums in his pants by the thought of you stepping on his dick with them.

Once he gets home after a particularly frustrating day of missions, he drops down to his knees and starts humping your leg with his bare cock while massaging your hands and arms through your silky gloves.

He circles his thumb on the seams of your long dress while you give him the best titjobs of his life.

Lives for the idea of you having a wardrobe malfunction in front of him and the other proxies. Lowkey a cuck.

Bites every cellulite line he finds, every stretch mark he finds, kisses every scar you might have and thanks you for even letting him.

Moans a little louder than he’s supposed to when you suck on his adam’s apple.

He finds cumming in your hair so enchanting, seeing milky white beads of his honey absorb into your smooth hair has him groaning.

JEFF THE KILLER

“Holy shit,” were the first words that escaped his mouth when he first saw you.

I mean, how could he not? Look at you, all shiny and pretty, it’s like you were made by an angel from heaven. He’s seen his fair share of hot supermodels and sexy porn stars, but none of them even come close to a creature as beautiful as you.

His approach for you is… not great.

Catcalling, whistling, and pervy pick-up lines were his first thoughts. “ *wolf whistle* Nice tits, dollface!” “ *imitates animal clicking* Here, kitty, kitty.” “Over here, sweetcheeks!”

He does this especially when he knows others are watching. It’s his twisted way of calling first dibs.

Jeff loves how you play hard-to-get with other guys in a smooth, jazzy way. Even more when you do it to him.

When he feels as if you were ignoring him (which you were) he likes to leave twisted drawings of you taped on your door. Nothing too crazy, just you in your usual outfit of glamour and heels, but this time your boobs are way bigger than they are and your butt is wider than they should be. You figure that it’s how he looks at you.

You crumpled his drawings and threw them away? That’s fine, he’ll just go a little bit further and bring you a severed finger in a ziploc bag with a ring still on it. Surprisingly, the ring is actually a real diamond worth fifty thousand dollars. And it fit perfectly, too!

You thank him a day later and he thinks he’s the sexiest man in the world.

He then takes it even more up the road– weirdly just touching your hair with his grimy hands until you turn around and gently ask him to stop. Taking extreme observation of your face like it’s an art piece. Even stealing your perfume and spraying it on him even though he has never come close to even hugging you.

After Jeff feels like it’s time to go in for the catch, he breaks inside your room while you’re sleeping and hovers over you, caging you with his body. You’re still sleeping, face freshly moisturized and pretty. He lets his ragged, heavy cold breath blowing onto your face to wake you up, and once you do he grins even wider than humanly possible.

“Y’know, you coulda been sleepin’ in my bed.”

Once you said yes, he was on top of the world. He got cockier than he should really be.

He makes uncomfortably loud grunting and throat clearing noises to make everybody look at him and you, with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, beaming wildly like he just caught a bear.

He purposefully makes out with you in public view, not caring about your lipgloss absolutely coating his face

For his bit of toxicity, he isolates you whenever too many people serve as competition.

This stems from his insecurity of not protecting what he should be protecting, so to keep your eyes only on him, he either locks you up in his room or a wide plain full of nothingness.

He ventures and finds you pretty daggers to keep on a garter on your thighs especially if you have a dress with a huge slit, both for show and for protection, even though he’s there beside you practically 24/7.

Goes crazy for you in red. Going out in an all-red outfit for a date? He’s insisting you stay at home.

He lets you use his blood from his mouth slit as lipstick.

Speak to him in that sultry voice of yours and he’s in love forever.

"Jeffrey, baby. Get me my eyelash curler, will you?" "Oh, shit," he groans, throwing his head back. "You sound like sin, sweets."

NSFW

Remember him dragging you back to the house because you wore red? Well, you’re now on the floor, getting plowed into next week.

Also goes crazy for you keeping your heels on during sex, especially when you can’t take it anymore and you’re pushing him off with them, just for him to push your legs up to your ears and fuck you deeper.

He likes it when you keep your dress on while you ride him. It makes the whole thing feel risky– forbidden.

Jeffrey likes you to get messy. One time, you come back from a rough mission looking like utter shit. Hair tangled like matted fur, dress ripped at the seams, stockings ruined, makeup smeared to hell… It took him everything from within to not pounce on you right then and there. Instead, he drags you by the arm, skin bruising under your glove to his bed and makes you look even worse the following morning.

He loves it when you have a full face of makeup and a pretty outfit before you have sex. It’s like a trophy to him– mascara stains on his pillows, your poor dress ripped to shreds on the floor.

Remember your sultry voice? Use it on him when you order him around and his heart will stop. He might cum in his pants without you touching an inch of his pale skin.

He likes making you stumble out of the door, limping out with his cum still inside and your panties in his pocket, leaving you to pray that your dress doesn’t fly up in the wind.

Do you like your bra being stolen from you? I hope so. Because he’s not going to return it after making you strike up a conversation with everyone while your tits threaten to pop out.

He purposefully messes with your clothing, cutting the seams just right so when you put it on it rips at the most ridiculous places. A huge rip from your clavicle to just under your tits. The seam at the slit of your dress lets go when you take a little step.

Loves watching your usually tired and sexy eyes shoot open when he hits that sweet spot.

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lestatthelioncourt · 2 days ago

Text

My Home My Rules

Sinners Mardi Gras/Modern au (Prompt by @brownskincheyenne ! 💜)

Synopsis : Annie is taking her beloved found family to Mardi Gras and she was invited to join a parade. Be prepared for chaos and a jealous Smoke.

This most likely will be a 3-5 part story, that's the goal at the least!

Author Notes: Smoke/Annie and Stack/Mary are 24-25, Sammie and Pearline are 21 . Just fyi

Disclaimer: use of n word (I'm black raah)

Chapter 1

“Just let me try again bro, it's important to understand the phrase and say it right- you wanna be a failure around a big ass group of people?” Stack asked frantically, gripping onto Smoke’s arms, emphasizing the utter embarrassment he'd feel. Smoke let out a huff of air through his nose.

“Fine, go on ahead, try it for the 50th time.” He grumbled, watching as his younger brother stood up from the couch.

The two of them were in Annie’s living room, the soft brown sofa lightly smelled of cocoa fabric softener. He saw her use it on the furniture many times. He loved how she took care of everything she owned. He watched as Stack somehow knocked his heel into the bottom of it, even if it was slight, it made his nose scrunch up in irritation.

“Laissez les bon temps rouler…” Stack said with much more confidence, and he quickly turned to the couch in excitement. Flexing his arms in his red Adidas-branded shirt, “Did I say it right? Do you know Smoke?”

Smoke was glad he wasn't the only one around to comment; Sammie was also there, just sitting on the love chair with his legs crossed while texting on his phone. He wore a yellow hoodie with jeans, and his foot shook gently in his sneakers. One AirPod was in his ear for him to listen to music. He looked up at his older cousins in amusement, a small smile on his face as he tuned into the conversation.

“You said it right, Stack.” His low voice was gentle and reassuring. “Laissez les bon temps rouler.” He repeated.

As the eccentric man grinned, his gold grills shone, “Well, look at us, Sammie, you think we can get some New Orleans baddies with that line?”

“Why would you want a ‘New Orleans baddie’?” Sammie used quotations with one hand.

“Damn fool… It's not even sexy.” Smoke muttered.

“Aren’t you tryna get stuff right with Mary?” The youngest of the three asked, lacking the confidence to glare at Stack as Smoke had started to.

Smoke stood up from the couch. He walked towards the TV and grabbed his cart out of his sweatpants, took a hit of it, and then put it back. He let it flow out of his nose as he coughed softly. “Is she still coming on the trip?” He asked.

A loud groan full of exhaustion echoed through the room. Stack was the cause of it as he had his hands covering his face. He was animated; he couldn't help what others would see as a dramatic display. “She ain't text me or call me yesterday, I think I fucked up y’all…” he groaned again before standing next to Smoke and yanking the vape out of his pocket and taking a hit.

Smoke softened up as he saw him truly discouraged, “She still coming on the trip though? This is for Annie; she put a lot of time into this.” His twin nodded, and he just sighed. “Maybe y'all can use this as a chance to get things straight. She can realize you ain't mean what you said.” He took the cart back from Stack as he could feel the mellowness from him. It caused his own usual sour mood to worsen.

Sammie looked uncomfortable too when Stack took a while to say anything, he filled the unusual silence with a question of his own. “...What even happened again?” His voice was a hesitant whisper, hoping not to open the wound further in the room. He was glad to see Stack at least sit up and take a breath to speak.

“She saw me kissing some girl-”

“Kissing a girl?”

“Let me finish, Sammie,” He said while putting his hands in front of himself, “I didn't mean for it to happen! She just pounced on me, but Mary holds everything in mind. She is like a goddamn folder drawer of all of my wrong doings, she brought back when I cheated on my ex in highschool! Before I even dated her! Can you believe it?” he ranted, reaching for the cart in Smoke’s hand, but he couldn't grab it since it was already in the other's mouth. He scoffed and then just crossed his arms. “As if high school me and now are even remotely the same.”

Elijah blew the smoke away from Annie’s couch; he didn't want any of it on it. It smelled too much like her to ruin like that. “Truthfully, you ain't changed too much.” That earned him a glare that he easily ignored. “You told her what happened?” He asked while stuffing the vape in his brother's hand.

“I did, but she said she needed time to process it,” Stack grumbled.

“And you're upset that she didn't text you yet? She specified that she needed time, you gotta try and relax, cuz.” Sammie said, Stack reached his arm out to wave the cart in his face. He pushed it away and shook his head, “No, I can't be high right now, I'm seeing Pearline later.”

“The fuck that's supposed to mean?” Smoke asked, usually stuff didn't fly out of his mouth but it was rare for Sammie to say no to a hit. He wasn't annoyed by it but genuinely surprised. He made him wait ‘til he was 18 to even have some from him at all, even though he knew he snuck around on his own. “Pearline don’t like it?”

“No man, it ain't like that, I just wanna be sober tonight,” Sammie said shyly, and Stack’s mouth hung open in shock when he understood what he meant.

“Oh shit!” Stack adjusted the cap on his head as he exclaimed, before rushing over to him and shaking his cousin by the shoulders. “You getting some!”

Sammie swatted his hands away, “Maybe, I just gotta stay sharp-” he paused when the door opened, everyone looked at the hinge, softly squeaking, and the keys jiggling out of the lock.

The world stopped for Annie’s entry; she was holding a brown paper bag. Surprisingly, only one, and she wore a short bright blue dress with black heels. She took a whiff of the air and hummed before locking the door behind her. “Hey y’all!” She said before walking towards her kitchen and going to the table.

She received greetings upon her return, but Elijah made his way behind her in a flash. He ignored the snickering from Elias. As he crossed into the kitchen and watched her unpack the stuff from her errand. She was holding lavender oil, and her hand lingered right near her chest. He couldn't help but stare at them both before his eyes went up to her face. She looked up just as he did.

“You ain't gotta stare at me like that, Elijah, you see me like this all the time,” Annie mumbled, already knowing what he was going to comment on.

“Stare like what?” He huffed, looking her up and down. Already feeling caught for doing something wrong, she always managed to do that to him.

“Me in a dress, god forbid I feel comfortable.” She said lightly, knowing he didn't ever see it that way, but he had an underlying issue with letting her show off her thick curves. He sputtered at her words, quick to deny it.

“No boo, that ain’t it.” He grunted, “You look good.” He put his hands on her hips. “Too good.”

“Here we go, Elijah, you are gonna have to work on this. I'm preparing for a whole parade, they invited me!” She intertwined her fingers with his, grabbed the cart, and then pushed his hands off of her. She gave him a small smile before taking a hit as she marched out of the kitchen. Smoke used that as a chance to watch her sway from the back and also recollect his emotions.

Mardi Gras was important to Annie, and he agreed to go because she finally found time to plan for the extravagant event. She had invited him, Stack, Mary, Sammie, and Pearline. Her Mississippian family, as she puts it. And he was open to seeing where she grew up; he loved every aspect of her. From her looks to the way she held her head, right.

Ever since he laid his eyes on her in their general English class freshman year in college, he knew she was the one.

As time went on, it was further set in stone, they balanced each other out perfectly. But despite that, they still faced problems; they were both jealous people. Elijah showed it with ease when it came to how people looked at her; he couldn't take it. Especially, when she shared the times she was sometimes ridiculed in her youth. But then, all of a sudden, others would act like she wasn't in a relationship when she was showing some skin.

It pissed him off. But in New Orleans, they were meant to be flashy, and he knew the people were going to be fawning over her. He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples, and slightly paced the kitchen before walking out to the living room. He saw that Annie was looking through her phone and addressing Sammie and Stack.

“Okay, so y'all checked off your packing lists?” Annie asked the group, her tone stern.

It was a couple of days before they got ready to hit the road. However, since she was from there and familiar with the chaotic next couple of weeks, she had to make sure everyone was prepared. She had been planning for this trip since last year, the only way they'd get the best hotel rooms and plan out their days accordingly. She couldn't afford to do anything last minute.

The room bustled with conversation and questions about the trip.

A few days passed in what seemed like a split second.

Stack and Mary made up just as quickly as they always did, which threw a lot of stress out the window. Yet that meant they had to be put in line every waking moment.

“But Annie, I wanna try some beignets or that gumbo stuff they got down here!” Stack yelled, even though he was walking right behind her, he had Mary close to his hip. They were the light of the party, but they were naturally always up for adventure. Opposed to how Annie and Smoke were, ones to stick to the plan.

“No, we gotta check in first, I got us rooms.” She said firmly, and Smoke nodded along as he rolled two suitcases. Annie had only her purse and phone to read over their hotel details while they moved closer towards it on foot. She made sure everything was close to her body.

“You better listen to her, Stack, we in a new place.” Smoke grumbled, not tolerating any disagreement from him.

“Oh, come on, it's still early! We are right near one too, according to Google anyway…” Mary tried to convince, and she reached the phone out towards Annie from behind.

“Mary, keep that phone close,” She pushed the phone towards the lighter woman, “Best practice now before we go to a parade. And when the time comes, I'll take y'all to the best places for such things, okay?”

Mary sighed and just decided to put her phone away. There was a short period of silence as they approached the hotel before Stack ruined it.

“I'm so hungry…” He complained, he gripped the suitcases he had as if they were keeping him upright.

The eldest twin’s eye twitched, “Boy shut your ass up, the hotel is right fucking there, get a snack there!”

“I'm so hungry I could eat a beig-”

“Utter that shit and imma make sure you eat one right up your ass.” Elijah glared back at his brother, and he only earned a devious chuckle. Great, he was doing this on purpose, and he was just getting on his nerves at this point. Falling right into his younger brother's trap as always.

“This trip is gonna be a hoot…” Pearline muttered at Sammie, the two of them were close behind, watching the interactions. The preacher's son couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle.

“Sure is,” Sammie confirmed.

Annie led them inside and went to the desk, checked them in, she motioned for everyone to follow her. It felt like a school trip; she even walked backwards and made sure all of them were paying attention before turning back to make it to the elevator.

“We are all on floor 3. Sammie and Pearline, y'all get room 2, Stack and Mary, y'all get room 5, and Smoke and I get room 9. Get comfortable, but in 2 hours we gotta go shopping. Prepare for the events starting tomorrow. I suggest a nap.” She announced as they handed each of them their key cards.

“Yes, ma’am.” Everyone said in unison.

They all split their respective ways. Annie was the one with the key card for her and Smoke’s room. She opened it and was in complete awe at the space. It had simple colors like white for the carpet, beige walls, and the furniture was set to match. She went straight to the tan couch and felt the material, “Oh nice… this is better than mine.” She muttered.

Elijah didn't agree with that, but he didn't see anything wrong with the hotel either. “You bugging.”

And that was all he said before closing the door; he swiftly locked it and continued to tow the suitcases. He glanced at the kitchen, he walked further towards the bedroom, and he squinted at the dressers and the bed as he put their suitcases against the wall.

The sun was blazing even through the curtains, so he decided to just go ahead and open them and look at the bustling city underneath them. He heard his girl walk in, and she stood right beside him, taking in the sight herself.

“How are you feeling, baby?” She cooed before kissing him on the cheek while she let her hand rub along his back, she could feel some slight nerves, but didn't wanna assume why.

He let out a deep breath, leaning into her side from the touch. The initial stress of making it to her city left him. “Fine.” He muttered.

He had been to major cities before, but NOLA held more pressure for him. This was her hometown, her family and friends from before she went to college were much closer. She spent so much money and effort to even plan the trip, and was going to keep doing so until they left. He only wanted to do good by her, not mess anything up, and keep everyone in check.

She knew that he felt obligated to make sure her trip went well. She needed him to relax, let some of the pressure fall on her shoulders as well. “You all tense, baby.” She put both of her hands on his shoulders and gave him a slight massage. He let out a soft grunt in reply. “Let's take a nap, hm?”

He couldn't sleep that easily with so much going on around him, and he looked over warily. When he looked at her brown eyes, they managed to dim the harsh sun that was beating down. His own heart felt heavy in his chest; he would do anything for her. He grabbed her hips and backed her up into the bed. he leaned forward and pulled her into a kiss as he pinned her against it. She groaned and gripped his shoulders tightly.

He gave her a chance to breathe and reached down to lift her onto the bed by her thighs. She let her back fall on the comforter, “Elijah!” She giggled, the sound making his body match the heat of the sun.

“You so cute.” He muttered, before letting her go and going to the window and shutting the curtain.

She always adored how transparent he was with her; she bit her lip as he now towered over her at the side of the bed.

“Not used to a nigga calling me cute.” She said with a big smile on her face.

He took off his pants, then his shirt, he slipped into the bed beside her. His hands grazed along her t-shirt and pants, soon just resting on her hips.

“I ain't just a nigga.” He spoke into her ear.

He started to lightly kiss her neck and pull her closer. He noted how she became more limp against him, and her breathing slowed down; she was on the edge of sleep.

“Mhm…” She agreed as she closed her eyes. “You my nigga, all mine.’

“All yours.” He said in a heartbeat.

She fell asleep soon after, and despite his fight to stay awake and keep an eye on her, he passed out himself.

Taglist: @boonoonoonus @sunshinerepublic @coolfoodrunworld-blog @bigjh (lemme know if you wanna be added!)

#sinners #smoke x annie #annie sinners #smoke moore #mardi gras #fanfic #writing

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firelilyfox · 2 days ago

Text

Not your personal assistant

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: Having a secret relationship with Bucky, but not all secrets meant to last.

Wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: swearing. fluffy fluff. sfw. secret relationship. indicated nsfw content. couple kissing. found family vibe. mocking & teasing. tears.

————————-

His lips left traces of hot kisses on the side of your neck while he laid on top of you.

This wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. You buried your hands in his dark hair, pulling him closer to you. Bucky moaned against your skin and sent pleasant shivers through your body.

„I could do this all night“, he mumbled against your lips. His hands cupping your waist. Your bare chest was pressed against his and he moved his hips with a steady rhythm, sending your mind to the edge of satisfaction.

„Good thing that we have all night for ourself.“ You smiled and Bucky hooked one bionic finger under your chin to raise it.

„Let’s make it last.“

*The Next Morning*

„You are late … again“, John grunted as you entered the conference room. The rest of the Team was already there. Bob greeting you with a smile and an awkward little wave. Alexei and Ava were discussing something and didn’t even notice your appearance.

And Yelena frowned over Johns comment and throws a pen at him. He failed to catch it and the pen hit him at the back of his head. „Don’t be a dick, Walker. If i were working for you, then I wouldn’t show up at all.“

„I would never have you as my personal assistant“, he snorted. „You can’t even make a cup of coffee.“

That’s when Ava snapped her head around in indignation. „Excuse me? She is not your personal assistant. She is our assistant. And without her we would’ve been hunted with torches and pitchforks by now.“

Walker rolled is eyes. „Yeah yeah whatever. But she is late!“

„Well, so is Bucky. Will you also hold this against him?“ Bob asked shrugging.

The urge to defend you made you smile a bit. It really felt like a family arguing about some minor disagreement, mocking each other at every chance they get. You could see in Walkers face, that he wanted to counter with something clever, but the words died in his throat when Bucky entered the room.

„Yeah Walker, would you?“ He asked with a cocky grin on his handsome face. Bucky stood behind you and even though you weren’t touching, you could feel him with every fiber of your being.

John narrowed his eyes, defeated but pissed. „Fuck off. Whatever. Can we get started now? I have places to be.“

„And where would that be? Getting a spine transplantation?“ Ava mocked him.

That made everyone laugh. Well except for Walker obviously. He just rolled his eyes and flipped them off, before he sat down at the large table. You clenched your fingers tighter around the documents pressed against your chest, when you felt a reassuring touch on the small of your back. Just for a second. Then Bucky stepped around you and sat down next to Yelena.

Her eyes narrowed and she studied your face a little to extensively. When you sat down next to Bob and across from her and Bucky, she smirked. Something tells you that she suspects something. You tried your hardest to keep a cool and collected expression on your face. Even when the way Bucky flexed his bionic hand a few times made your lower stomach ache, craving for his touch.

The meeting with the Ministry of Defense went surprisingly well. Never you’d been so lucky with a contract before. Especially when you think back to the past couple weeks. Instead of diving into work, you’d been very distracted by a certain super soldier.

You’ve tried to deny it. For months you ignored all of your thoughts about him and the feelings that had been attached to it. But on one fateful night all of your walls, that you build around your heart, were torn down by Bucky.

He just grabbed and kissed you. You were defenseless against the overwhelming passion and attraction you felt for him. Nothing could stop you now. From that moment on, the two of you weren’t able to keep your hands off of each other. Every night Bucky sneaked in your room and stayed until the sun almost rises over the skyline.

So understandably slowed down a bit. But the others didn’t noticed anything that had been going on between the two of you.

Not until today apparently.

„So“, Yelena exclaimed when you stepped into the kitchen. „You and Barnes, huh?“

You almost dropped the full coffeecup. „What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.“

You tried to smoothen your dress a bit, to hide the sudden shake in your hands. Yelena grinned and lifted herself on the kitchen counter.

„You can’t fool me! I totally saw you getting all flustered back in there.“

„What is flooded?“ Alexei asked alarmed when he joined the conversation.

Yelena sighted dramatically. „Not flooded, Dad. Flustered. Bucky makes her nervous.“

„Why? Is he mean to you?“ Now Alexei sounded even more alarmed. „I will teach him manners! You don’t scare a woman!“ He stormed out of the kitchen, still cursing in russian before you even said a word.

„Ohh shit. I should stop him before he gets himself hurt.“ Yelena jumped off the counter, but turned back to you before she left. „I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry.“

Well that was … unfortunate. Suddenly you wished you stayed in bed this morning. Not just because you could still feel Bucky hugging you tightly, with a arm wrapped around you and how his face was buried in your neck. But because of what a mess this day already had become.

And you couldn’t catch a break.

„Bucky are you kidding me?“ Walkers voice was thundering against the walls of the hallway. You peek around the corner and saw the two men having a stare off.

„I don’t know what you want me to say, Walker.“

John threw his hands in the air. „That you’re fucking my personal assistant!“

The accusation in his tone felt like a knife twisting inside your guts. Bucky got alarmingly silent. His whole body was tense and from where you stand, his eyes narrowed with a unspoken warning. „She is not your personal anything, Walker! And I’m not fucking her.“

The knife just got twisted again. You were well aware, that you said something similar to Yelena, but hearing it from him hurts. You never discussed what that thing was between you and him. And you weren’t interested in finding out while eavesdropping on Bucky and John.

So you left before you could hear another word.

„Oh c’mon! Don’t try to lie to me. You are such a bad liar!“

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. „I’m not lying. Because I don’t fuck her. I …“ He hesitated because he realized, that he never said those words out loud. Those three very important words. And he didn’t wanted to say them to someone other than you first. „I have feelings for her.“

Walkers mouth dropped open. „Oh you can’t be serious! You fell for my…“

Bucky grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. „If you ever call her your personal assistant again, I will break your face, John. I fucking mean it.“

Walker raised his hands submissively. „Fine! Fine. It’s your funeral if this shit goes down and end in a huge mess.“

„It won’t. Ever.“

When the night dawned Bucky found you in your room, still wearing this damn dress that had him in a chokehold since the second he saw you in it. How it highlighted your curves and flattered your stunning frame. Even though it fit you phenomenal, he couldn’t stop imagining ripping it off your body.

„I’ve missed you, doll.“ He mumbled while hugging you from behind. You felt so right in his arms. So perfectly made for him to hold you.

You shoulders tensed, slightly, but Bucky noticed anyway. „Oh. Yeah, busy day.“

„You seem upset, love. What’s wrong?“

Bucky loosened his hug, only to be able to turn you around to face him. To his surprise, he found you crying. Dried tears traced on your cheeks and your nose was red.

„I’m sorry, it’s stupid. I just got caught up overthinking.“ You avoided his gaze, but Bucky cupped your face gently to make you look him in the eyes.

„About what? What is going on in that pretty head of yours?“ More tears filled your eyes and Bucky almost regretted asking. The last thing he wanted was for you to cry.

„I just … I heard you.“

„You have to be more specific, doll. I talk a lot when the day is long.“

You snorted. „No you don’t.“

„Okay, maybe I don’t talk that much. But something I said made you upset. And I want to know why.“

You sniffled and blinked the tears away. „I heard you talking to Walker about … us. And he accused you of fucking me. I know we haven’t talked about this much and I don’t want to make things weird or awkward!“ The words just burst out of you like a waterfall, and now there was no stopping in sight.

„But I …“ Bucky started.

You overheard him. „It’s okay as it is really! I have no idea why I reacted that way, because we never said it would be something serious. We never said it was more. I just …“

Bucky stopped you from talking more nonsense by pressing his lips on yours. He smiled during the kiss, because he couldn’t believe how much you’ve misread the situation.

„You’re cute when you overthink“, he mumbled against your lips.

Your fingers clawed into his jacket, holding on to Bucky as if he were the anchor to your floating self. „W-What?“

„I told Walker I wasn’t just fucking you. I told him that I fell for you, love.“ He brushed a loose strand of hair out of your face. „Didn’t you hear that part?“

You shook your head. „I left before that.“

Bucky smiled and kissed your forehead and then the tip of your nose. „Maybe it’s better this way. That way I can tell you without anyone hearing it.“

You tilt your head, looking at him with widened eyes. Bucky wiped the fresh tears away with his thumb.

„I am in love with you, doll.“ He whispered with a soft smile. „I never thought I would say those words or even feel this way for someone. But you proved me wrong. I am so madly in love with you, that it scares the shit out of me.“

A little clumsy you got up on your tiptoes, crushing your lips on his and digging your hands into his hair. The relieved sigh hanging between you two.

„I feel the same. I love you, Bucky.“ You beamed.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and sweeps you off your feet in more ways than one.

————————

Thank youuu for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated 💙 (but please don’t copy my work)

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

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raekensluver · 2 days ago

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nsfw alphabet - chris dixon

masterlist | main masterlist

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

aftercare with chris is deeply affectionate but never overbearing. he teases you all the time, but the second you’re spent and soft beneath him, he’s gentle. kisses your forehead, grabs a warm towel, murmurs things like “you good, baby?” while rubbing circles on your hip. he’ll pull you onto his chest and stroke your back until you fall asleep. if you ever need reassurance, he’s already giving it—quiet, real, and constant.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on you: your neck. he’s obsessed. always leaving kisses there, always dragging his teeth gently over your skin like he wants to mark you. he lives for the way you shiver when he breathes against it. on himself: his hands. he knows what they do to you. watches you go wide-eyed when he flexes them, rests one on your thigh and smirks when you press closer. they’re strong, sure, and he knows how to use them.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

chris is messy. unashamedly, deliciously messy. he likes seeing it -dripping from your thighs, smeared on your stomach, catching on your lips. it’s visual, it’s his, and he’s lowkey obsessed with the aftermath. his favorite? pulling out last second and finishing all over you while panting, then leaning down with a smug, “look at that. so fuckin’ hot.” but he’ll clean you up after, whispering sweet nothings while he does.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he secretly wants you to dominate him - just once. not full-time, not all the time. but enough to flip the script. pin him down. make him wait. tease him until he’s whining your name and twitching under your touch. he gets off on the idea of losing control, of being at your mercy while you take what you want. it’s buried under all that confidence, but it’s there. and it’s loud.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

chris knows what he’s doing. he's been around. but he's careful with that confidence—never cocky, just capable. he reads your body like a language and gets better every time. every sound you make, every time you clench around him—he takes notes. fast learner, deeply focused.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

doggy. he loves the view, the way he can grip your hips, pull you back into him, go deep and rough while you moan into the pillow. he’s obsessed with watching you arch your back, with the way your breath catches every time he changes the angle. that sound you make when he grabs your waist? he lives for it.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he can be. especially in the buildup. teasing comments, cheeky grins, maybe a “you look desperate already, babe” with a wink. but when things get hot? he’s locked in. voice drops, eyes darken, and all the playfulness turns to focus. he knows when to stop joking and start ruining you.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

well-groomed. keeps things tidy. likes a little hair but nothing wild. same with you—he doesn’t care what you do with yours, as long as he’s invited to be between your thighs regardless.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

when he’s in love? he’s so intimate. keeps your face close to his, says your name like it’s a prayer, whispers soft praise into your skin. even when it’s rough, there’s a tenderness underneath. he wants to be close to you. always. it’s not just about the high—it’s about you.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he does it—especially when he's away or you're teasing him too hard. he’s visual, uses vids or your photos (the private ones you send at 1am when you miss him). he groans your name when he finishes. then immediately texts you something filthy and needy.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

he’s into teasing, praise, a little control play. loves when you need him. when you whimper, beg, pull at his shirt. also into mutual masturbation—watching you get off while he does is a scene for him. lowkey has a thing for lingerie and seeing you in his hoodie with nothing underneath.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

the bedroom is ideal, but chris gets ideas. he’s done it in the backseat of a car, a quiet stairwell, even once in the dressing room of a store. he loves the risk. the thrill. especially when you wear a skirt and give him that look.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

your voice. your laugh. the way you bite your lip or roll your eyes at him. any outfit that hugs your waist. you sitting in his lap and acting like it’s innocent. he gets worked up so easily, especially if you act like you’re not trying to.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he won’t do anything degrading or that makes you uncomfortable. hard no to anything involving pain beyond light spanking or rough grip. if it crosses a line, he’s out. respect first, always.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he’s obsessed with giving. obsessed. buries his face between your thighs like he was made for it. moans into you. grips your thighs. won’t stop until you’re pulling his hair and crying his name. he likes receiving too, but giving? that’s his religion.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he can go slow and teasing or rough and fast depending on the mood. either way, he keeps it steady and deep. he likes dragging it out, watching you squirm, then flipping the switch when you beg.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

absolutely down. especially if you’re in public and whisper something filthy in his ear. he gets hard instantly. fast and messy in the bathroom or car, hand over your mouth, whispering, “quiet, baby, or they’ll hear.”

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he likes taking risks. semi-public, toys, mirror play, blindfolds - he’ll try most things once. if you bring up a fantasy? he’ll listen, then make it happen. no shame, just curiosity and confidence.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can go for multiple rounds, especially if you keep teasing him. one round? not likely. two? standard. three? depends how badly he wants to prove himself (spoiler: it’s often).

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

yes and yes. loves using toys on you - vibrators, plugs, handcuffs. he gets off on making you fall apart. also into remote-control toys in public. the little remote stays in his pocket, and the smirk never leaves his face.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

very. teases you until you’re begging. will edge you for fun just to see how long you can take it. says things like “not yet, darling” while you’re whining under him.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

low groans, deep moans, breathy curses. he talks a lot - dirty, praise, commands. growls, “just like that, baby,” and “fuck, you feel so good.” gets louder the closer he gets.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he’s filmed you before. not to share. never that. but just once, on his phone, with your permission - grainy footage of you riding him, his hand gripping your hip, both of you moaning like it’s your last night on earth. he watches it when he misses you. or when he needs to feel you.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s thick. above average length, but it’s the girth that ruins you. curved just right. when he pushes in, you feel every inch. leaves you sore, satisfied, and thinking about it for days.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

very high. he thinks about sex a lot. especially when you’re around. he’s always touching you, kissing your neck, running a hand down your back like he’s deciding whether to be good or ruin your night.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he doesn’t fall asleep right away. holds you close, murmurs sleepy compliments, traces your skin with his fingers. eventually crashes, but not before making sure you’re warm, clean, and tucked in against him.

taglist: @themdera @beanhardy (sorry if you didnt want to be tagged, i can remove you, if you want - i'm just assuming you did based on your reactions from when i revealed i was writing this.)

#chris md smut #chris dixon smut #chris md x reader #chris dixon x reader #chris md blurb #chris dixon blurb

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067supremacy · 1 day ago

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Summertime in Jackson 18+!

Dom! Ellie Williams x Fem Reader

On a hot day on patrol, you decide it would be fun to tease Ellie. She makes sure you remember the rest of the day….

Warnings: Dirty talk, Fingering, strap-on sex, very light degradation, Dom Ellie, Fem Reader, squirting

Ellie Williams Masterlist

"Fuck, " you groan out while wiping the sweat from your forehead. You usually enjoyed patrol with Ellie, but this heat was almost unbearable. You look over to your partner, who rides her horse with grace. Ellie holds on with one hand while the other rests on her hip, just above the handgun in her holster.

The thoughts on your mind were the last you should have while outside of the comfortable walls of Jackson City, but she looked so good. Ellie wore her famous converse and washed skinny jeans; the best of all was your girlfriend had put on a tank top to deal with the sweltering heat. You thought this wasn't just for her sake; she knew what this does to you, the sight of that tattoo you love so much on full display, glistening as a light coat of sweat had covered her arms. You do the best you can to hide your attraction, but the throb you feel is hard to ignore.

Ellie flexes her arm as she holds on to the reins tighter. This action alone was enough to send your thoughts into overdrive; Ellie turns to look at you and gives you a sweet, innocent smile. If only she knew the rampant sexual images rushing through your mind right now.

"I love this," Ellie says to herself, but loud enough for you to hear it. She looks up to the sky and takes a deep breath. Her hot skin shines in the sun; you loved it too. This is the kind of moment that you cherish permanently.

"I love you," Ellie speaks again; this time, her eyes are solely focused on you. Only Ellie could make you go from sexual thoughts to heart-melting cuteness. You always felt her love, every day without fail; she would make sure it was known. Ellie wasn't exactly keen on being overly affectionate in public, but when it came to you, she hated the thought of others trying their luck. It reminds you of a time not long ago when such an event took place, a person Ellie had been assigned with for patrol had quite the track record with the females of Jackson. Much to Ellie's annoyance, he had made a few lasting comments about you, but for your sake Ellie simply ignored them. A night of celebration took place; the annual festival was a time where everyone could get together and let loose. The same person assigned with Ellie had been loitering around you and Ellie for the night; all it took was the time of Ellie going to get a drink and back to your location for him to make a move. Raged with jealousy, Ellie made it her mission to cuss him out with every bad word known to humankind, but that wasn't enough in her eyes; a swift jab to his nose was enough to satisfy her. But something that always sticks about this certain time is how frustrated Ellie was when you returned home. She made sure you knew who you belonged to that night, more than once,,, over and over again.

"I love you too," you reply with a bright smile in return. You and Ellie continue the route for more than half a day. It was a struggle both in terms of the heat and how good Ellie looks. She caught you a few times staring and made a show of everything. She knew what she was doing, but two could play at that game. You had also made a wise choice in clothing; something that was a little known fact to you was Ellie loved the sight of you wearing her clothing. And today, you picked up her blue, ripped sleeves, button-up shirt. Every now and then, a button would "seemingly come loose on its own." you notice that Ellie can't quite hide her love for your chest much longer.

Ellie signals to check a block of buildings to your left, which hadn't been checked for a while. They were safe from what you could remember, so decided to make it your mission to leave her red-faced, this time with no relation to the heatwave. Ellie's reason for checking the buildings was entirely innocent and in the name of keeping Jackson safe; you readily agreed because this also happened to be the site of your first time with Ellie, ammunition that would come in handy in just a few minutes.

After the pair of you had secured two buildings, you enter the third and final building. The very one you couldn't wait to tease Ellie with. The second floor was upon you; your handgun is firmly gripped at the handle. "Clear!" Ellie shouts from across the dusty corridor before making her way to your position. You sharply turn the corner into the room you knew so well. As expected, empty and clear. Ellie arrives and instantly recognises the place, but can't put the pieces together. "Do you remember this place, babe?" you ask seductively in her ear, giving a light nibble to Ellie's lobe for good measure.

Seeing Ellie shiver on the spot brings a cocky smirk to the surface of your face. You still can make her weak after all this time together; it's a heartwarming gesture, but right now, you still had to get her hot and bothered.

"Is this,,,, where we first, " you don't let Ellie finish her sentence; another thing Ellie loved was when you were direct. This was the perfect time to be that.

"Where we fucked, El. You fucked me right there; I can still feel your teeth digging into my neck, you know." throughout your filthy tirade, you had taken your rightful place on her tattooed arm, curling one of yours around hers and using your free arm to stroke the tattoo. You can feel her breath get heavy; Ellie closes her eyes and attempts to compose herself, them kissable lips strain as she keeps from biting her bottom lip. Ellie almost snaps when you whisper in her ear again. "I want you, Ellie. Right now."

"But I suppose I'll just have to wait until we get back to Jackson," you say while turning to leave the building; just before descending the steps, you take a look over your shoulder to see Ellie still standing in the same spot. "Are you coming?" You giggle to yourself as when she turns to look at you, as hoped, her face is bright red.

The ride back to Jackson was torture for the both of you. Barely a word is spoken, rarely do your eyes connect to one another. The tension can be felt for miles, but the tension lies between the two of you; as you enter the safety of Jackson, Ellie makes eye contact with you; her eyes are sealed with lust. Excitement builds within you as she grabs your hand and hurries you back to her place. You witnessed this side of Ellie three times before, and each time led to multiple hours of stimulation.

The destination of your pleasure arrives shortly after, still with no words spoken and a tight grip around your hand; she throws the door open and slams it behind her, with your body immediately being pinned against it. The kiss she gives you is rushed, full of need and pent up aggression that she would likely take out on you. The feeling of being trapped between Ellie and the door with her knee pressed against your center is otherworldly. You use the friction to rolls your hips sharply; the contact gives you some relief, but with the way you're feeling, it had to be Ellie, and it had to be more.

"You think that was funny, huh?" Ellie rasps out between a flurry of kisses. "Teasing me like that, wearing my shirt. Begging to get fucked? You're mine." Ellie growls in your ear; this ruthless, animalistic Ellie makes you wetter than you thought possible.

"Look at you, riding my leg. So fucking needy." it's true; you are needy for Ellie's touch. She takes both your hands in hers and pins them above your head; you could easily get out of the situation but submitting to Ellie is your role in this; it's what you loved, and most importantly, it's what she loves. She begins to mark your neck with her teeth, something that would often need to be covered after sex with Ellie, not that you were complaining.

"Ellie, please." you manage to breathe out, to which she chuckles. Ellie loves the way her name rolls off your tongue; it's like silk to the ears, a wonderful nectar that she soaks up every time.

"Come on; you can do better than that, princess. Beg for me." every word rings through your ear and wraps around your brain, the lengths you would go to for this girl weren't possibly known yet. If Ellie asked you to do something, there was no thought behind it; you did it.

"Fuck,, please Ellie, do something, anything. I'm yours, all yours." and that was enough for her; that's all she needed to hear. The confirmation of you being hers flicked a switch as your two hands above your are trapped under one of her hands . Ellie sloppily works at getting you undressed, she opens your belt buckle. She undoes the button of your jeans and dips her hand into your underwear.

Her fingers meet your already sensitive bud and massage it just the way you like it. Your moans are a delicious treat for Ellie, who only increases her speed. You struggle to stand as Ellie continues her pleasurable assault on your clit. You pulse with even more need than before, and when Ellie's fingers leave your clit and rub along your wet slit, you know exactly what you need. You need Ellie inside of you.

"So wet, fuck." Ellie mumbles to herself. On the inside, a proud feeling runs through her body as she has this effect on you. Ellie feels your juices run down fingers, and her arousal peaks, how she needed to taste this, and that she does. Ellie pulls her hand free from your jeans and sucks on her fingers that are coated with your cum. Ellie moans to herself at the blissful taste; in rapid succession, she spins you around, so your front meets the door; she shimmies your jeans down your legs along with your panties followed with her shirt and your bra which is thrown in any direction. Once you kick off the jeans, she instructs you to hold on to the door frame. Ellie gives your ass a harsh slap before giving the handprint an open-mouthed kiss. You jerk at the action, only getting more wet if that's even possible.

She stands behind you; her dominant presence looms over you; the excitement you felt earlier was finally here and Ellie couldn't wait to have you screaming her name. A quick kiss to your cheek and the usual wait for your authorisation is followed by a single digit gliding through your slick folds. The molten heat emanating from your core is addictive to Ellie, her drug that she needs a fix from. Pressing her own stiff nipples on your back, she finally enters the digit into you. Your body shudders at the spectacular feeling; after a full day of wanting her, it gave you relief but not enough; now you needed to finish.

Ellie Starts slowly, letting you adjust to the intrusion of her finger and builds the rhythm every ow and then until the lewd sound makes it known you are ready for more, her middle finger soon enters you as well; the delicious stretch makes you coo and moan Ellie's name the way she loves. Ellie encourages you to let out any noise that you like, regardless of whether people could hear. In her mind, the world just consisted of the two of you. No one else is present.

Ellie's wrist works overtime as she pumps into you at a furious pace. Your satisfying moans don't deteriorate her efforts, as this is what she lives for. You scream your pleasure when Ellie tangles her left hand in your hair and yanks it back; with your neck now exposed, she scrapes her tongue along the side, making you weak at the knees.

"Scream my name, babe." Ellie says directly in your ear before nipping on the crown. You didn't really have a choice when she curls her long fingers into the very spot that made your toes curl.

"OH FUCK, ELLIE." you scream out, much to Ellie's satisfaction. All this build-up had you on edge already. A few more accurate curls of her digits inside of you made you crumble on her fingers. A burst of wetness coats her hand as you fall limp on her shoulder. Ellie subtracts her hands from your core and rubs your clit lightly to bring you down. It takes a while, but your senses come back, you feel charged up, ready to go again; luckily for you, Ellie had something special already planned. Carefully, Ellie walks you to the bed on jelly legs; she lays you down and admires your perfect body. "Fuck, you look so hot, baby." Ellie husks above you.

For a short while, Ellie had disappeared; you lay waiting in wonder at what she had up her sleeve. It flicks like a light bulb in your mind at what the surprise is, but before you can give it any thought, Ellie returns with a large thick toy connected to a strap. It had been a while since you had seen this toy; the last time gave you much pleasure and countless mind-bending orgasms. But Ellie was new to it at the time, now with some experience behind her, she knew this would make your night. She strips herself of the clothing she wore and secures the strap with full intent on making you know who owns you. Not that you needed reminding, but Ellie sure thought so.

Ellie crawls up your body, making absolutely sure to kiss every available patch of skin she crosses along the journey. Ellie licks her lips as she passes your wet hole; with a swipe of that talented tongue, you writhe against the bed; as much as Ellie would love to lick your sacred area; she was so ready to pound you with the toy she has attached. So continues her journey, a shy smile arrives on her face as she meets yours. A reassuring kiss to your lips reminds you of the loving, gentle side, but that side was quickly overturned as the toy breaches your entrance.

"O-oh fuck, Ellie." you stumble along with your words, the sheer size makes it hard to adjust, but Ellie has time for that. Small kisses plaster your face as she instructs you to breathe. Eventually, you relax around the strap, and Ellie can push forward until the entire toy is inside you. You moan uncontrollably, swear words and Ellie's name are the only words you know right now. Spurred on by your reaction, she drags out slowly and pushes back in at a slow pace. It doesn't take long for you to become accustomed to it. Her thrusts get harder every few pumps of her hips. To get the best angle, you curl your leg to rest on Ellie's bare ass. Soon she is driving into you with reckless abandonment; Ellie groans and grunts in your neck as she places loose kisses wherever she can. Her hands get placed in yours, and she controls them at either side of your head once again, assuring herself of the dominant nature of your sex life.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" you chant over and over again. Each rough thrust hits the spongy patch deep inside of you. Ellie is skilled with the strap; she makes it seem like an art form the way she can give you pleasure. And you hadn't even given her stamina the credit it deserves. Despite the girl dripping from head to toe with sweat, and her body burning with exhaustion, she keeps pounding into your pussy.

Ellie has a change of heart of all a sudden. She sits up pulls the strap out of you, making you groan at the feeling of being empty. "ELLIE!" you shout in frustration, but she was already grabbing you at the hips and turning you around. She places you on your hands and knees, a sight that makes her mouth water. She looks down at the strap to see it covered in your juices. Knowing it's wet enough to reenter automatically, she pushes forward and instantly starts a blistering pace. You take the pounding like the champion you are; every thrust is heard with the connection of yours and Ellie's skin, something that loved to hear. Your moans continue to scream out; at this point, everyone in Jackson could probably hear you, but you couldn't care less as long as Ellie kept fucking you; it was worth it.

She watches the way your ass bounces back in against her; it was like a brand new fascination had been discovered for her; she pulls your hair into a ponytail and slaps your ass with the freehand before harshly grabbing your hips to make sure she had a good grip. Through all of the energy she was using, Ellie was heavily breathing, and keeping up the pace was now impossible; just out of luck, your pussy tightens around the toy, making it hard to drill into you, and your liquid bursts out once again.

You mumble incoherently as your brain tries recover. Ellie had well and truly fucked you. You held a delightful pain; it is dull and just enough to not create any comfort, just the reminder Ellie hoped you would feel. Ellie pulls out of you and unclips the strap. She straightens your position on the bed and brings you into her sweaty side, still panting like she had run a marathon.

"Are you okay, princess? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Ellie asks innocently, the concern evident in her voice. You were too tired to respond; you cuddle into her side and get comfortable. That's all the answer. Ellie needs to know that you were satisfied with the outcome.

"I love you, sweetheart." Ellie whispers into your temple while placing the softest kisses possible, allowing you to get the rest you deserve.

#imagine #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie smut #elliewilliams #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #tlou ellie #ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #the last of us part 2 #the last of us smut #the last of us imagine #tlou smut

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theotherrookie · 5 hours ago

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Erica, of course, couldn't do anything but cheer at that. "Heck yeah! That guy deserved all the bruises he got."

Somebody had to stand up for children. It was nice of Travis to take the matter into his own hands.

"It sounds like willow and I." Erica said, before she pointed to her double, "She scares people just by standing around and nobody ever hears me coming!"

Both taking great pleasure from the effect they had on people. Willow's attention briefly shifted to the car as Travis got it started and listened to the noise of the engine just a moment before losing interest. Disappointing like its former owner. She might let the others keep this one, after all.

"I'm sure it would be her pleasure to do so." Willow replied, "You should inquire about it directly. There is a high chance she already has some stories to share."

It would have been beneficial in more than a way. The ghost lady would have loved to brag about doing something like that. Having that waiting for her on the other side might have actually persuaded her to take time off more consistently with her needs.

"Let's leave the area. Then I will provide directions to our destination." Willow instructed, "Or we could have a little fun with the GPS."

"We should put on that song that plays in that sketch with the three guys in the car!" Erica suggested.

"We shall, Erica."

They could indulge as long as it was funny.

Like a good host, Rook was keeping track of her guests, especially the ones who had visited before. Russell had made it through on his own last time, strong of the fact that the pocket didn't enjoy holding onto regular humans.

That had changed, but Lucien was already on the case.

"Well, now we know what it feels like to visit the Backrooms." the half fae mused.

"It's more like that infinite Ikea thing." Rook replied. She was quick to summon two endless shelves filled with all kinds of books and knickknacks that stretched past them as far as the eye could see.

It was an excuse to flex the full extent of her occult collection, but it also offered a distraction while she quietly reached to place her hand on Antonio's shoulder. Younger siblings had to be supportive too when needed.

"In my professional opinion, his entire family has never really shined in that regard." Veronica said, "They're just a bunch of power hungry hypocrites. It wouldn't surprise me if he was actively discouraged to improve his technique. He wouldn't be this deranged if he did. They essentially ruined their own child."

As a parent, she simply couldn't stand the thought.

Rook briefly looked at the chainmail, before shutting the chests. "I'm glad you didn't need that."

The battle had gone better than she could have ever hoped for. Both chests floated up to an empty spot on one of the shelves. They would be safe there for the time being.

"Alright, then. Let's all line up and follow mum outta here!"

Veronica sighed and moved to lead the way. "The first one to make a duck joke will take the express way out."

Lucien opened his mouth to reply, but decided for his own good to keep quiet.

Rook fell into step, moving more quickly now that her wings were gone.

"Do you guys mind if we stop by my stash? It's been a long fight..."

Her marks were starting to nag her already.

Erica's ears perked up. She was glad Travis appreciated her choice of nicknames. That meant they could both have fun with it.

"Yep! And then you could do all sorts of things like standing ominously behind someone, or breaking things in two for no reason—" she tilted her head, "Do you think you could break a phone book in half? We could also find other stuff that is more readily available than one of those old things."

Indeed, the elven shenanigans couldn't be so easily stopped once they were encouraged.

"Nah. Willow has to do her thing on that fancy dashboard screen over there." Erica paused to slide in once the windows were rolled down, "And I get more leg space back here!"

It wasn't safe to ride with her legs resting on the seats, but she too could have some fun while the kids weren't around.

"Or my creator's office." Willow added, "Some smokers do their very best to discourage others from getting addicted. They fail to realize that effort should be better spent towards dropping it themselves."

"But that gets some of them out of the way faster." Erica said, leaning back, "You know, Rook's mum goes back to the afterlife sometimes. I bet she's been looking for Cassandra..."

"With nefarious intent, of course."

Rook's attitude had to come from somewhere. They could only imagine the kind of commotion Veronica caused whenever she had to retire beyond the veil for a few days.

"Yeah. I don't think I'd be able to sit back here if we had to keep the windows up." Erica said, before grinning, "Hell yeah. Hit it, Willow!"

Willow placed a hand on the dashboard and quickly disabled the GPS, before tapping into the radio. She decided to start with a song that should fit everybody's taste, as well as the general atmosphere.

"I'm taking requests." she stated casually as she leaned back.

The pocket dimension used to be a secret so jealously kept it was at one point something of a mystery with the Order itself. Had he known about it, Five would have thrown a fit over how it looked like Rook might just start organizing guided visits at this point.

Lucien felt the need to keep an eye on Russell as they proceeded. He was in a pretty ragged state the last he had been there. Lucien figured it could bring back some bad memories.

"Well, I guess you guys now know where the mean monsters go when they get in the orb." Rook said, "This is actually more effective than standing around waiting to be smacked off your feet while in the middle of sucking someone off."

She had no idea why Five didn't use the orbs, but she had the feeling he either didn't know about them or simply refused to use them for some reason. He probably wouldn't have been such a sadistic freak if he for once did things like everybody else.

"Thank you, Leofric. I'll be happy to show you around." Veronica replied, before she stuffed a few more vials in her bag.

Rook did her best to help store all the equipment, calling up an extra chest for Leofric's armor. She appreciated the logic of leaving the bulk of their equipment behind. Not everybody's outfits fit like a glove the way her armor did.

So she considered her options, then decided to call up her necklace and hide her wings. "Well, that's one weight off my back."

Lucien rolled his eyes, "That certainly makes a difference."

"Hey. When I change out of this, it'll be into my pajamas." Rook snapped back, "Well, you could have Antonio take a thirty minute dive, or you could be stuck on the infinite stairs from Mario 64."

Both were equally unfortunate situations. But with Rook around, there was no risk of them getting lost.

"All because the Brotherhood guys are a bunch of idiots."

"Excuse me, they're my easily manipulated bunch of idiots." Lucien pointed.

"Yes, well, we can get going when you guys are ready."

#pushspacetocontinue #scholar of flames - Rook #cyber core - Willow #elf in training - Erica #hunter hunter - Lucien #ardens medica - Veronica

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rillils · 2 days ago

Note

rils your smutty one liner prompt list you reblogged, consider this: steve DOES say this without making the connection. bucky starts snickering from underneath him and steve's like aw buck come on....

LAV OMG SJDHKJSADKL!!!!!!!!!! YOU ABSOLUTE GENIUS, THIS IS PERFECT SKAJSKK 💕💖💕💕💖

Imagine they've been at it for a while.

Steve's got Bucky exactly where he wants him, how he wants him: like sweet, pliant putty in his hands. Letting Steve fold him in half on their big soft mattress, gasping when Steve catches his legs by the back of his knees and pushes them up to Bucky's chest, spreading him up for Steve's cock and Steve's gaze to have him, devour him, feast on him like Bucky's the only food he'll ever need to consume.

Bucky can't bite back a soft little moan when he looks up at Steve leaning over him, a sheen of sweat glistening across his golden skin, dampening the whorls of Steve's chest hair and the burnt gold hair at Steve's temples. He watches the subtle flitting of Steve's abs, flexing with every purposeful thrust of his hips, and feels his whole body light up from the inside, fingers clutching helplessly at the rumpled sheets under him.

He all but sees it when Steve decides that oh, he's gonna draw this out, he's gonna make it last as long as he possibly can, milk every last drop of pleasure out of this that Bucky's willing to take.

Steve's pace slows to a torturous rhythm, his gaze locked with Bucky's with intent, watching him hungrily while he sinks inside, one maddening inch at a time, sliding in deep, deep enough to let Bucky feel him, feel the hard, blood-hot, throbbing shape of him opening Bucky right up like it's just what it was made for, thick and heavy and glorious just like the rest of Steve is.

And then pulling back out at his leisure, slow, slow, slow, and slick and all sorts of perfect while Bucky's body clenches around him, tries to hold onto him like it never wants to let him go.

The drag of it is so delicious, it has Steve gasping and wetting his swollen, slack lips with a flicker of his pink tongue, and there's a hunger in his eyes, a need, a fever that makes Bucky wonder if Steve can taste him every time he licks his lips, if he can still feel the weight of Bucky's cock on his tongue even now, while he's up there between Bucky's spread legs, tall and aglow and magnificent like the first sun that ever kissed the earth.

If his mouth is watering, if it wants back on Bucky's skin -- if Steve's starved enough for him that he'll sink his teeth in the meat of Bucky's shoulder the second he gets the chance and lap at the fresh pink bruise with his tongue after, sloppy and needy and filthy like a french kiss, tasting his own mark on Bucky’s smooth skin.

Steve's hands grip his hips, his blue eyes fixed on Bucky's face, roving over every inch of him they can reach, the wet tip of his cock kissing the pucker of Bucky's entrance like he's asking for permission before he slips back in easy and sweet and relentless--

And that's when Steve suggests, in a low rumble, that maybe. Maybe he should keep this up until Bucky's forgotten every word that's not Steve's name. Maybe he should just keep at it for hours, fuck Bucky slow, so slow, sink into the butter-soft give of Bucky's flesh over and over, and over, giving him just enough to keep Bucky aroused out of his mind, his skin on fire, his lungs melting with each hot breath, but never quite enough to push Bucky over the edge. Not until Bucky's so desperate to have it that he's begging for it.

"Whaddya think, sweetheart?" Steve husks, his voice warm, rich; dark and irresistible, like every decadent pleasure life has to offer. "D'you want that? Think you can take that?"

The hot skin of his hips presses flush against Bucky's ass when he bottoms out, the searing length of him deep and snug inside Bucky like it belongs there and nowhere else, and Bucky feels molten, feels like the moment before fireworks burst up in the sky, those charged two seconds of complete quiet before fire and colour bloom into the night, the anticipation building up and crawling like a shiver up his spine.

"Steve," he breathes out, gasping with his mouth wide open when Steve's cock brushes up against that spot inside him with exquisite purpose.

"'Cause I can do that, baby, I can give that to you," Steve rumbles on, a bead of sweat pooling invitingly in the hollow of his throat. "Give it to you just the way you like it, fuck you so slow, so fucking deep, Buck, wet you up till you’re dripping with it, make you come till you can't see straight anymore, till I gotchu all sweet and messy and melting right into these sheets."

And Bucky wants it, wants it so bad he's writhing under Steve's hot hands, chanting, "Steve, yes, yes--"

"All you gotta do is say the word, baby. We've got all the time in the world, and I'm only just getting started," Steve says, moving sinuously above him, inside him, everywhere Bucky's senses can reach, the greedy curl of his smirk something Bucky will see in his dreams. "Trust me, sweetheart-- I can do this all day."

Bucky hears it through the well-fucked haze in his brain, the slow molasses of pleasure dripping hotly down his spine, and when his glossy eyes snap up to meet Steve's -- well, he thinks that's when Steve hears it, too.

Bucky's chin starts quivering. His chest shakes with barely restrained giggles, until he knows he can't hold back anymore.

Steve's eyes grow comically wide. His hips halt immediately, the tips of his ears quickly catching fire, they flush so red. "Wait, no, that's not what I--"

But Bucky can't help it, he's bursting with it, erupting into laughter, cackling so deep that his belly his shaking, sending little zings of pleasure to his system when it jostles Steve inside of him.

"You actually said that," he wheezes, tears springing to his eyes even as he squeezes them shut tight, head thrown back against the pillow 'cause he can't fucking breathe, "I can't believe you actually said that, oh my god--"

"Buck, c'mon," Steve groans above him, one shovel-sized hand covering his eyes, looking about three seconds away from combusting from sheer embarrrassment. Bucky’s not letting him forget about this one for a long, long time to come, and they both know it.

(they still fuck afterwards btw. the fucking is just delayed by like 10-15 minutes, after which Bucky's pretty sore from all the laughing - but not opposed to getting sore from other things as well. Steve-shaped things. Steve's dick-shaped things.)

#lavenderbuckyy #stucky #stevebucky #I'M SORRY LAV HONEY IDK WHAT I WAS THINKING AHSJKDASKD #i was thinking gutter-worthy thoughts that's what i was thinking #ashdkajsljdkasd #rillers scribbles #i didn't even reread this i'm gonna cry #.................i need some fries #top steve #bottom bucky #should i even tag this idek ashdgsjdkfdgbhgsfhdkjfg helpppppppppppppp

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m4y4fun · 2 days ago

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I went to a waterpark today…I lazed in the lazy river…I pondered. What would the boxers do?

Punch Out at a waterpark! 🌊💦

Joe

Was enjoying himself for a while. Got there on time, said hi to all the others, and got in the water a decent amount of time. Had to leave early though since he broke a bone on one of the rides.

Kaiser

Got there at the time the place opened so he could get a moment of peace in the lazy river. He was there before anyone else and nobody believed him until he sent a picture of himself there. He left once the families started flooding in though.

Disco

Rode all the rides, swam a lot, ate the food, he had a ball! The only normal person here…

Hippo

Was too heavy to go on the rides and be in the lazy river, so he ate nearly everything in the food places. They thought they would run out of food feeding that hippo!

Hondo

Didn’t want to wait in all of the lines so he just chilled in a rented hot tub.

Bear

Got kicked out. He brought animals along that dumped in the water and attacked people (he didn’t plan on that, but it happened.. :\ ) He said the food was good though!

Tiger

Rode everything and ate everything. Clones were just spread across the park and then it was over. He got bored and left a lil early.

Don

Bro thought he wasn’t getting wet so he dressed to impress…got SUPER upset when he was splashed, but loosened up when he realized Carmen was having fun!

Carmen :3

Had a swim suit under he clothes, and ACTUALLY DRESSED PROPERLY FOR THE OCCASION…had a blast in the pool with the others and helped push Don in.

Aran

Got injured and banned. He peed in the public pool, ran from security down a water slide, and broke something because he wasn’t in a tube and rammed into someone in front of him. Menace…

Soda

Came late, swam for exactly 2 minutes, drank soda, threw up in the lazy river, and stayed with everyone’s stuff until it was time to go.

Bull

Immediately rented a hot tub and stayed in there until the public caught him. Hondo was there too!

Macho

Got kicked out. A fan spotted him, and he used that to advertise, flex, and get all of the attention onto him. Some fans were getting violent…

Sandman

Was in the hot tub with Bull and Hondo. Was cool with all of the fans, but it got to a point and the moment was ruined. He left early.

Doc

Tried to chill with the other boxers, but decided to stay with Mac, Disco, and Carmen. Got lost in the Lazy River at some point lol…

Mac

Was with Carmen, Don, Disco, and Doc majority of the time, only leaving them to get food and drinks. Kinda lost his appetite when he saw Joe and Aran being wheeled out though.

The Ref???

Rode one ride, went around the lazy river once, and booked it when Aran arrived.

PLEASE ADD MORE I WANNA TALK TP YOU GUYS…

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oldrainfall · 3 days ago

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CW: Discussion of character death, (Soap), grief, angst, hurt/no comfort, not beta read, implied poly!141

(Pls don’t hate me for this one y’all ;-;)

I’ve seen some fics about post-MWiii, and it’s usually about how the boys process their grief (or don’t, if we’re being honest with ourselves), but d’y’all ever think about what the drive up to the cliff side to spread Johnny’s ashes must’ve been like for them?

Because I’m thinking about what it must’ve been like right now.

Nothing but rolling glades for miles around, and a rickety dirt road that cuts through it, disrupting the serenity with a man made scar on the land. Little rocks and stones would bounce off the underside of the jeep as it rumbled along, making soft sounds as it hits the metal, the only noise aside from the steady rumble of the engine.

Price would be behind the wheel, his fingers flexed just shy of too tight around it; dully he’d be able feel them aching from holding the same position for so long. He would just squeeze the wheel harder, feeling the way it creaks under his hands. With the way the road — or suggestion of a road really — was he only had to make micro adjustments here and there to keep on it, and that left his mind free to its own devices, which meant remembering the mission over, and over, and over, his mind picking it apart from every possible angle. John is a logical man, he knows this won’t change anything, but he can’t stop himself from trying to find something, anything, one tiny little moment, a choice, an action, that would have changed things— if only he had held onto his gun a little tighter, or gotten up a bit faster, or had been the one working on that side of that goddamn bomb, everything could’ve been different; but he hadn’t, he didn’t, and he wasn’t, so everything had went to shit. He wouldn’t be able to stand being helpless like this, it’d make something sharp and bitter claw it’s way up the back of his throat— it’d make him angry, at himself, at Makarov, at fucking Shepard, at the entire bloody world for letting men like that get their crooked fingers on so much power. For now he just swallows it down, letting it fester and stew in the back of his mind, his men needed him, and that came first, always.

To John’s left would be Gaz, staring out the passenger side window watching the way the grass ripples in the wind. There’d be a sort of dullness to his eyes, glazed over and not all quite there. His hands would be stuffed into his pockets, curled stiffly into fists, with his nails biting into the fabric. Everything would feel wrong, as if the entire world had tilted a few degrees, and left Kyle behind, just standing there staring after it. Kyle’s eyes keep drifting up to the rear view mirror, each time expecting to catch a glimpse of Johnny, of his sharp eyes or thick eyebrows, like he’d have done dozens of times over, and each time he feeling something cold wrap around his heart, before he’d remember, and have to force his eyes back out the window again. There’d be a thick layer of static buzzing around his brain, the sort that made his ears ring dully in the heavy quiet. Something would churn in his chest, making him feel ill, and forcing his eyes to glance back up at the rear view mirror again. But there’d still be no Johnny, and he’d have to swallow down the bile rising up the back of his throat. No matter how many times he’d look back it just wouldn’t feel real. This couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t be. The world wouldn’t dare to just keep on spinning if Johnny wasn’t in it. So Kyle would check again.

In the backseat would be Ghost, half hunched over himself, with Johnny’s urn in his lap, while both of his rough hands would cradle it, his eyes fixating on it, barely blinking, as if he’d be worried it’ll be broken or stolen from him if he looks away from it too long. His dog tags would dangle from around his neck, gently bumping against Johnny’s hanging from the same chain. A choking feeling would rest heavily on the back of his tongue, making every breath he draws a conscious effort. His would eyes sting as he shifts the urn — drawing it closer to rest more securely against him — though he doesn’t cry, which in of itself would cause another layer of guilt to bare down on his shoulders with enough force that his bones threaten to splinter under it. He’s already dragged his body through hell and back, over and over, loosing more of himself each time, more than he ever knew he could— the evil of the world had done nothing but take from him, but he still had continued on, fighting as hard as he could. Simon would have gotten through hundreds of things that had almost killed him, and one thing that had. By the time that he had met Johnny he would’ve been not much more than outline of what he once was— but Johnny hadn’t cared, just took one look at him and accepted him how he was, and stuck by him, helped him rediscover aspects of himself that he had figured he’d buried forever. Then Johnny was gone, snuffed out like a lid put over a candle. And Simon would ache, ache like someone was using a spoon to hollow out his organs, just relentless scraping on and on, until he was left raw and hollow and unable to remember anything else— but he doesn’t cry, couldn’t, there wasn’t enough left of him to.

When they finally arrive, none of them would make a move to get out of the car. John would put the jeep in park, likely as Kyle undoes his seatbelt — the click of the mechanism oppressively loud in the still quiet they all sit in — while Simon tightened his hold on the urn, running his thumb back and forth along the edge of the lid, trying to find comfort that would never come.

The engine’s rumble would ease into silence as John switches off the ignition, though they still wouldn’t make any efforts to leave the jeep.

If none of them move, they could all pretend that this isn’t really happening. That they’d came out to the gales on whim, that maybe Johnny arrived early, and is simply waiting over the other side of one of the hills for the three of them to show up, any moment now he could have come trotting over, a wide cocky smile on his face as the Scottish winds whip around the soft strands of his mohawk. If they all just stayed in the car, they could keep pretending, never having to see for themselves on the other side of the hill that there’s nothing but a steep cliff face, and rolling waves far below.

A door lock would click, the noise cutting through the thick air even with how soft it is, before the jeep door eased open.

Just something short that was kicking around in my head. It’s been a while since I’ve written angst— so feel free to let me know how I did (I also wrote this late at night so apologies for any errors/inconsistencies).

Have a lovely day/evening/night, folks.

✨My Masterlist✨

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dee-daa · 6 months ago

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zagan's thighs

that's it, that's the post

#deembles #what in hell is bad #whb zagan #i want to ride those thighs...#just imagine riding them slowly and he grabs your waist and gently pushes you down so that you grind even harder #all while he's flexing them from time to time #zagan my beloved...#sharing the paid card art again but i'm pretty sure it's okay to share the art since literaly every player saw it in game #also pretty sure pb posted it on their socials #not counting the fully nude version ><“

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madamechrissy · 3 months ago

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Baby You're a Star Masterlist // Pornstar Satoru headcanons

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream.

Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation, mentions of drug use, weed smoking, Gojo has an OF hehe, lots of longing, pining, Satoru can't get hard if it's not you, whipped ass Satoru, explicit sexual content, angst - WC 67k 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 Playlist -Ao3 link-Headcanons below!

Pornstar Satoru is one of the most famous pornstars there are, hence him constantly wearing jet black shades and hoodies at times, he never knew just who he'd run into that would recognize him. Whether it's his flicks or his OF - he's the top .01 % - he gets a lot of notice, especially in bustling LA. But, he loves what he does, he especially loves watching his abs flex in the camera as he hits one of his lovely costars from the back.

Pornstar Satoru loves making the costars and girls he collabs with actually cum, where they're shaking and squirting all over his latex covered cock. Not that fake shit like he watches them do with other men- no Satoru makes sure to slam that curved tip against their cervix, to roll his thumb right on their clit with the perfect amount of pressure. Perhaps that's the secret to how famous he really is, along with his good looks.

Pornstar Satoru makes so much money from each shoot and is in high demand, so he can have whoever he wants as a co star. They line up to have a chance at him, watching his videos and aching for a chance to feel his cock hitting them deeper than damn near anyone could hit, to say they got to shoot with the Satoru Gojo. This just makes Satoru fuck them harder, smiling right at that camera, as women dream it's really them that have captured his pretty blue eyed gaze.

Pornstar Satoru thinks it's a pretty damn good life, being rich for fucking beautiful women on camera, as he's inhaling a blunt after a threesome shoot with his best friend - and often costar- Pornstar Suguru, as they talk about who got the girl to squirt more, right in the middle of a bouguie party in East LA. Suguru let's out a throaty laugh, while Satoru narrows his blue eyes. 'I had her cumming so hard she was shaking' he says, taking a hit and handing it back to Suguru. 'Nah, that was all for me, did you see...'

Pornstar Satoru stops listening when he sees you enter the room, completely out of place at the coke filled, booze filled party, wearing a pair of black glasses that cover half of your pretty face, and a little nervous look as you stand there, in a cute white pleated skirt and a big oversized sweater. Satoru smacks Suguru on the shoulder then and he coughs up smoke. 'Shit what is it?' Satoru looks back at you, when you're handed a drink, some guy flirting as you look down shyly. 'Who's she?' Suguru blinks a bit curiously. 'I don't know, she's pretty though'

Pornstar Satoru scowls at Suguru who snorts in laughter then. 'Satoru we don't have 'girlfriends' and she... looks like a good girl' your eyes catch his then, across the room, like something shifts as you smile sweetly, before peering at your phone, biting your lip in concentration. 'I'm talking to her' Suguru chuckles as he watches his friend, and Satoru feels his heart race when he comes too close to you, something he can't say he's felt, even pleasing countless beauties, nothing has quite altered him as your sweet turn of lips, as you look down at your converse, so out of place you're fucking adorable. 'Hey sweetheart... Satoru Gojo' he says, introducing himself with ease, expecting you to maybe notice him, get starstruck, fuck women get wet just near him, but you simply grin, and your name whispers through his mind when it spills from your lips.

Pornstar Satoru has you sitting with him later, you fall into easy conversation, you're a little gamer nerd, you love science and the environment, he just bets you were head of your ecology club in college, which you quickly confirm, all while you're in awe of just how beautiful this man is. He's sweet, he's sexy... you feel he shouldn't even be talking to you. You're pretty but... he's experienced so clearly, by every way he moves, he's worldly, so confident, and you've never really left this little part of LA, but the two of you can't stop talking, to the point you forget what brought you here.

Pornstar Satoru laughs with you, as you're sitting side by side, and he lights up a blunt, leaning back on the burgundy couch on the outskirts of the party, inhaling it deep into his lungs. 'Want a hit, sweets?' he murmurs, you take it nervously, putting it to your lips and inhaling a bit, before coughing, covering your mouth. Satoru chuckles, 'you're cute' earning your cheeks heating up. 'Can you tell I don't do this?' you're nervously tapping your leg now. 'Yeah, what does bring you here, doesn't seem your...' 'my scene?' he nods then. 'yeah, that.'

Pornstar Satoru watches avidly as you sip on your drink, wincing at the strong liquor. 'Well, my friend invited me over, but she's running late' Satoru grins now. 'Party time is different, everyone comes late, that's on time. About fifteen minutes late' 'oh no I came early!' you smack your own forehead, giggling along with him. 'Are you like... a model, or an actor?' you ask, eyeing him and his baby blues, the cheekbones so perfect, those lips that wrap the blunt again. 'You could say I'm a bit of both,' he muses, then spits out his drink when you ask 'what are you in!?'

Pornstar Satoru coughs just a bit, he's never been ashamed of what he does, but he's nervous for some reason to tell you. Why, he doesn't know. 'I'm... into some indie flicks' you brighten up then. 'Oh, let me know, I love lowkey films! I bet you're great' Satoru sighs, gulping down the rest of his drink and eyeing your cup. 'Want more?' you frown now, maybe you're asking too much, or offending this actor that you don't recognize him!? You nod, the amount of people around you making you press against this friendly, pretty white haired stranger just a little more.

Pornstar Satoru has another drink, eyeing the sea of bodies undulating in the extravagant mansion, and soon the two of you are dancing together you're cute and so awkward, Satoru's enjoying this far, far too much. He has plenty of costars and fans come up to the two of you, but he's too interested in showing you how to move your hips to pay them any mind, when finally your friend comes. Satoru instantly recognizes her, she's a pretty famous co star he's collabed with on her Onlyfans not long ago. When she sees you giggling and enjoying yourself so much, she damn near drags you away, making Satoru curse.

Pornstar Satoru eyes you when your friend whispers in your ear- 'you really don't recognize him!?' you blink curiously, looking at him more closely. 'Should I?' she sighs then, eyeing Satoru up and down. 'He was in my OF videos, we collabed' you heat up furiously then. 'I never watched your videos! I just subbed to be supportive!' she giggles. 'You're so cute, I thought you at least watched some?' you shake your head nervously. 'I don't really watch, is he... like an OnlyFans guy?' Satoru is back over with Suguru now, while you sip your drink, feeling your body warm up. 'He's the top pornstar there is, the collab was like a dream. He's really sweet but you should know is all, you're kinda...' you glare. 'kinda what?' she giggles again. 'you're just... sweet, emotional, is all'

Pornstar Satoru expects you to be done with him once you find out, after all you just seem innocent, uncorrupted for this city, not the kind of girl to be at this party where lines are being snorted off bodies, and people are naked and jumping in the pools, a heady, wild atmosphere. But you smile at him, as you murmur - 'he's sweet?' to your friend. She nods then. 'He is, but just know... he doesn't date so, it'd only be physical' you frown at that now, that's not something you think you can do, you're about as demisexual as it gets, hence your very limited experience. 'He doesn't date at all?' Your friend gently touches your shoulder. 'No, love, I'd hate to see you hurt'

Pornstar Satoru catches you before you leave later that night, when you are just feeling too out of place, his big hand wrapped around your delicate wrist, earning you looking up at him. He can't stop thinking how pretty your eyes would look rolled back, how good your lips would feel wrapped around his cock, as you relax a bit, turning and looking up. 'Headed out already?' he asks softly, you flush as you remember just what he does for a living, your friend had just described his cock in far too vivid detail. 'It's not really my thing, but I'm glad we met, Gojo' you smile so cute then, leaning up and pecking him on the cheek, his arm wraps your waist as he leans down, inhaling that sweet vanilla scent cloying to your skin.

Pornstar Satoru pulls you in closer, blue eyes staring under snowy lashes. 'Can I... get your number?' Satoru has never asked for a number a day in his life, but he delights in watching you shift nervously, nodding as you tuck your hair behind your ear. 'Yeah, I'd like that' he exchanges numbers, tilting your chin up then, watching the way your eyes dilate, the color spread on your pretty cheeks. 'She told you?' you clear your throat, nodding a bit, still being captured by his fingers. 'I don't judge at all, Gojo, I'd still like to be... friends...' your whisper is met with the most subtle kiss on your lips, shooting desire hot and heavy until Satoru releases you, plump lips smirking- 'sure, sweets, we can be friends'

Pornstar Satoru can't get you off his mind, the feel of your skin on his, the sweet sigh against his lips. He is on a big shoot and - the Satoru Gojo that never gets soft - is having trouble keeping it up, to the amusement of his costar Pornstar Sukuna. Satoru scowls at his comments, just picturing your sweet lips against his for that brief moment. A man who just fucks and fucks, and doesn't feel, is hung up just on some fucking kiss. He has to take a break after pleasing his costar with his fingers, she's cumming so much she doesn't notice, but the directors wonder why he's off. He's in his own dressing room, eyeing the phone, hands shaking as he decides to type a message - 'could you give me a picture, sweets, to save as your caller id?'

Pornstar Satoru finds his cock is right back on hard when you send one quickly, just a cute selfie with a little peace sign, but he sees your glossy fucking lips, the teeth indentations he aches to rub the tip of his cock on, along with just a hint of your breasts. Your nipples press against the thin material of your little tee shirt- Pokemon, he notices, smiling- his cock throbbing. 'Can I get one too?' you're biting that lower lip nervously as you ask, getting a picture of him shirtless then, doing nothing to stifle the curiosity in your mind, your heart racing as you seee his body. 'You at a shoot?' you ask in the messages, he hesitates before answering - 'yes' - and somehow you feel jealous of whoever his costar is. You message a - kill it, Gojo! - despite the feeling in your tummy, little do you know you're drowning his fucking mind when he performs later, feeling the star squirting all over his latex covered cock.

Pornstar Satoru can't stop texting you that week, he can't even get hard if he doesn't look at that picture, and you can't stop your curiosity, when you friend mentions he's doing a live stream. Since Satoru can hardly perform, he's decided to masturbate on live cam, in minutes making more than he'd make in a shoot, all while having your picture propped up. People are chatting, watching, dollars by the hundreds being tipped every moment, fuck he's making way more than he usually would, and he can think of you. He laughs softly, abs flexing as he hits the right angle, reading the comments, making you dripping wet, this isn't what you do!?

Pornstar Satoru is stroking his wet, slick cock that's glistening, up and down with his huge hand, and you feel your pussy clench, breath coming faster, unsure whether to look away or keep staring, meanwhile he's picturing you in all sorts of positions, on your knees, a fucking mating press. He's shutting his eyes for a moment, grinning as the viewers go crazy. 'I know, it's pretty, huh?' he spits right on that long, veiny cock of his, pinching his pink tip and whining, white lashes fluttering open right when he sees a familiar name enter the chat.

Your name.

Pornstar Sukuna hcs here // Pornstar Suguru hcs here // Onlyfans Nanami hcs here

Kofi link (if you feel generous & wanna buy me a ☕️

21K notes · View notes

shokocide · 2 months ago

Text

HEY, EMO BOY! - CHOSO KAMO

summary. Choso doesn’t do distractions. But then you walk into his show and ruin his focus with one look. And now, he’s handing you his guitar, his heart, maybe more. And baby, you haven’t even seen what those fingers can really do.

word count. 10.5k (i got a lil carried away)

content. mdni fem! reader, bassist! choso, mutual pining, heavy tension, choso is a tease (and so down bad), really lovey-dovey shi like bro's not even emo, pet names, smut, fingering, oral (fem rec.), p in v, mating press, praise, creampie, slight overstim, aftercare

author's note. saw this fanart and started ovulating on demand.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Shoko says, tugging on your sleeve with the persistence of a woman who knows you have no other plans. "You like music. You like hot guys. This is both."

You squint at her, unconvinced. "You said that last time and we ended up at some dude’s garage while he rapped about capitalism."

She grins. “And it was unforgettable.”

“You spilled beer on my shoes.”

“And I’ve had character development after that.”

You roll your eyes, but she already knows she's won. She’s practically vibrating with excitement as she drags you through the dimly lit alley that opens into an even dimmer basement venue—graffiti-tagged walls, sticker-covered speakers, the scent of cigarettes and something vaguely fruity in the air.

The lights are low, the crowd humming with quiet energy, and the stage is set but empty—just a drum kit, a couple mics, and a bass propped against its amp like it’s waiting for someone.

“You’re gonna love them,” Shoko whispers, already pulling out her phone to snap photos. “The music’s sick. And the bassist—”

You blink at her.

“The bassist,” she repeats, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “Tall, broody, pretty eyes. Never says a damn word on stage but plays like he’s in pain.”

You scoff. “You’ve got issues.”

“Just wait,” she says. “You’re not ready.”

And you’re not.

Because when the band finally comes on stage and the lights cut through the haze, your eyes lock onto him—tall, dark, dressed in all black with his bass slung low, rings glinting on his fingers, and a half-lidded stare like he’s seeing ghosts.

And when he starts playing? Oh. Yeah. You’re done for.

The lights dim, bathing the room in moody blue and red hues. The crowd hushes—just for a moment—then the first chord explodes through the speakers. It’s loud, raw, electric, vibrating through the floor and straight up your spine.

You don’t flinch.

You should. The guy next to you does. Shoko’s already swaying to the beat like she’s been here a thousand times. But you? You’re frozen—entranced.

Not by the music. Not really.

By him.

The bassist, standing off to the left like he doesn’t crave the spotlight, like he’s content letting the others take the lead. But he’s the one you see. The one who owns the stage.

He’s tall and he’s wearing a loose black button-up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top few buttons left undone to tease just enough of his pale, sculpted chest. The stage lights catch on the gleam of sweat on his collarbones, highlighting every sharp angle and subtle flex of muscle as he moves with the rhythm. His fingers dance over the bass strings with practiced ease, and that’s when you notice it—apart from the black nail polish, each one is tattooed with a letter: C-H-O-S-O.

His long, dark hair is loose, falling in waves to the base of his neck, the ends brushing over his collar. The soft purple eyeshadow dusting his eyelids makes his deep-set eyes pop, casting shadows that only add to his sharp features. A bold tattoo cuts across the bridge of his nose, stark against his pale skin.

His brows are furrowed, mouth set in a hard, concentrated line, and his fingers—god, his fingers—they dance over the strings like he was born with a bass in his hands. There’s something hypnotic about the way he plays. Focused. Intense. Like the world doesn’t exist outside of this moment.

You don’t even realize you’re staring until Shoko elbows you lightly. “Told you,” she shouts in your ear, grinning like the smug little shit she is.

You nod, but your eyes don’t move. You can’t look away. It’s like you’ve been put under some kind of spell.

And then—then—mid-song, his head lifts just slightly. His gaze cuts through the haze and crowd and colored lights, and lands right on you. You swear it. A spark of something sharp and electric zips down your spine.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t nod. Just holds your gaze for a breath longer than necessary before he looks away, like he felt it too.

Like he knew.

Like the music wasn’t the only thing pulling strings tonight.

The band keeps playing, song after song bleeding into one another, but you barely register any of it.

Your eyes keep straying to him. Choso—at least, you think that’s his name, judging by the ink on his fingers. Fitting, really. It lingers in your head like a low bassline: heavy, addictive.

At one point, you swear he looks at you again.

Really looks.

And even if it’s just for a second, it feels like a live wire pressed to your skin.

You down the rest of your drink to keep yourself from combusting.

Shoko leans in and shouts something in your ear over the music—probably the band’s name or some fun fact about the drummer—but your eyes are locked on him. You nod absently, your smile weak, dazed, because how the hell are you supposed to listen to anyone else when he’s up there, commanding your every thought?

By the time the band wraps up their final song, you’re already craning your neck for a better look. You don't even realize you're moving toward the stage until Shoko’s hand snags your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

You blink, startled like you’ve been caught red-handed. "I—I don’t know."

But you do.

You’re hoping to get closer. Maybe he’ll notice you again.

Maybe he already has.

You find yourself outside the venue before you even realize what you’re doing—leaning against the brick wall, half hidden in the shadows, heart hammering like you’d just finished a set yourself. The crisp night air cools your skin, but it does nothing to quiet the heat bubbling beneath it.

You tell yourself you just needed some air.

That’s all.

Totally not waiting around like some groupie for a guy you don’t even know.

The door creaks open behind you, and a familiar pair of boots crunches against gravel. Shoko squints at you suspiciously.

“You good?” she asks, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick. “You just disappeared.”

You shrug, too casual. “Yeah. Just needed a breather.”

She takes a drag, exhales slow. “Right. A breather. After not dancing and not drinking that much.”

You shoot her a side-eye. “Do you always interrogate people for wanting fresh air?”

“Only when they’ve been acting weird since the bassist took the stage.” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not slick, y’know.”

You scoff, glancing away before she can catch the way your face warms. "I don't know what you’re talking about."

Shoko chuckles like she definitely knows what she’s talking about, but bless her, she doesn’t press it. Just smirks, gives your arm a little nudge. “He was hot, though.”

You give a noncommittal hum, eyes scanning every shadowed corner, every rusted doorway, hoping—just hoping—you might catch another glimpse of him. Choso. You’re almost certain that’s his name. It suits him. Dark. Sharp.

You won’t tell her, of course, but—yes.

Yes, this was fun.

Yes, she was absolutely right to drag you here.

Yes, the bassist was fine as hell and maybe, just maybe, you’ve developed the tiniest, stupidest little crush on a guy whose voice you haven’t even heard yet.

But god, you want to.

Even just once.

A glimpse. A moment. Anything.

And just when you think it’s time to give up, to stop being delusional and head home—

The door swings open again.

And this time, it’s him.

Panic.

Real, irrational, full-body panic.

Because there he is. Standing a few feet away. In the flesh. The bassist.

Loose black button-up clinging to his frame, sleeves still rolled up from the show, revealing forearms that shouldn’t be legal. The glint of his rings catching the light. A faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his collarbone—god, you can see it because the top few buttons are still undone, teasing just enough pale skin to keep you up at night.

And his eyes—

His eyes are rimmed with that soft, dusty lavender, and they’re looking straight at you.

You glance side to side like you might Houdini yourself out of this moment. Maybe if you ran fast enough, you could avoid embarrassing yourself beyond repair. Maybe if you—

Shoko bumps your shoulder, casual and smug. “Now’s your chance.”

“Chance for what?” you hiss, heart thudding in your ears. “To spontaneously combust? To make an idiot out of myself?”

But it’s too late.

Because before you can overthink your next twelve moves or plan a strategic escape—

He’s walking toward you.

Slow, calm, confident.

Like he knows what he’s doing to you.

Before you can say something completely unhinged, like “your bass playing did something weird to my hormones”, you feel Shoko shift beside you.

You whip your head toward her, silently begging for assistance, for backup, for escape. But she just smirks, looking between the two of you like she already knows exactly how this night’s gonna go.

“Well,” she says with a wink, already turning on her heel. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull. “Shoko. No. Shoko, wait—SHOKO.”

But she’s already walking away like she didn’t just abandon you to the mercy of the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

And now—

Now he’s standing right in front of you.

He smells like sweat and incense and something dark—something addictive.

“You waited,” he says, voice lower than expected, rich. His lips curl, just barely. “Were you hoping for an autograph… or something else?”

You blink.

He knows.

Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again.

An autograph? Something else? What the hell does something else even mean—wait, you know what it means, OH GOD—

“I—I wasn’t waiting— I mean, I was, but not like—like in a weird way or anything!” you blurt, the words tumbling out like a panicked avalanche. “Not that liking your music is weird. I mean, it was good! Really good. You were good. Not in that way, I mean—not that you wouldn’t be—oh my God—”

You slap a hand over your face.

Abort mission. Let the ground open up. End scene.

When you peek through your fingers, he’s just watching you, amused, head tilted slightly to the side.

Then—he chuckles. Actually chuckles.

It’s low and quiet and kind of devastating.

“I was right,” he murmurs, voice all honeyed steel. “Cute.”

You make a high-pitched noise that cannot be classified as human.

And Choso—Choso just leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s offering a secret.

“Relax. I don’t bite.” A beat. “Unless you want me to.”

You definitely stop breathing.

Your brain is just a dial-up tone as you stare at him, stunned into silence, because did he actually just say that? He did. He really did. And he’s still looking at you like he’s waiting for your answer.

But when you open your mouth, what comes out is: “I—uh—yeah. I mean no. I mean—I don’t know what I mean.”

He grins. Not a smirk. A real, soft little grin, like he likes the mess you’ve become.

“Wanna get some air?” he asks, jerking his chin toward the alleyway beside the venue, quieter now that the band’s done and the crowd’s thinned.

You nod way too fast.

So you end up outside, standing under the faded neon of the venue sign, arms crossed to hide how jittery you are. Choso leans against the wall beside you, lighting a cigarette. The glow flares against his sharp cheekbones, his lashes casting shadows on his skin.

“So,” he says, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You liked the set?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying not to look at his hands. His tattooed fingers. “You were… really good.”

He hums, clearly amused. “Still not in that way?”

You bury your face in your hands again.

He laughs under his breath, then nudges your shoulder with his. “You got a name, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

Oh, how you were so very fucked.

You tell him your name. And when he repeats it softly, your knees almost give out.

Then he offers, “I’m Choso, by the way.”

Like it’s a gift.

And before the night ends, he asks if you’re coming to the next gig.

“Only if you’re playing,” you manage to say.

To which he replies, “I’ll be there if you are.”

shoko: hello?? where are you???

shoko: ANSWER ME

shoko: sigh

shoko: i didn’t want it to come to this but you leave me no choice

shoko: i’m checking your location.

shoko: GIRL WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING THERE

shoko: 2 missed calls

shoko: you better give me answers the second you're online...or else.

you: dot dot dot

shoko: WHAT. HAPPENED.

you: emergency phone call

shoko: 🧍‍♀️

shoko: you’re a terrible liar

you: ok but like.

you: it wasn’t a lie. it was an emergency. a hot boy emergency

shoko: OH MY GOD.

shoko: OH MY GODDDDD.

you: he talked to me

you: HE TALKED TO ME SHOKO

shoko: AND???

you: and i said dumb shit

you: and he still talked to me

you: and i think i blacked out at one point??

you: but like. the good kind

shoko:YOU’RE TELLING ME MYSTERIOUS HOT BASSIST MAN TALKED TO YOU AND YOU LIVED???

you: barely

you: i think i ascended actually

shoko: you’re telling me you were about to dip and then HE approached YOU????

you: he remembered me from the front row 😭

you: called me cute 😭😭

you: asked for my name 😭😭😭

you: CALLED ME SWEETHEART 😭😭😭😭

shoko: …girl.

shoko: i don’t wanna be dramatic

shoko: but i might start planning your wedding

you: pls help i’m still outside the venue trying not to combust

you: he said he’d see me again if i came to the next gig

you: SHOKO WHAT IF I GO TO EVERY GIG UNTIL I DIE

shoko: yeah bestie we’re in our groupie era now

You show up a whole forty minutes before the doors even open—Shoko said she’d meet you later, but you’re already leaning against the building like a total loser. Or an over zealous fan. Same thing, really.

You're debating if you should take a walk to kill time when the door swings open, and out steps him. Black button-up, sleeves rolled up again, a few buttons undone, and that familiar purple eyeshadow hugging his tired eyes. His lip quirks up the second he sees you.

“Excited to see me?” he asks, cocking his head as he strolls over. His voice is low, teasing—but not unkind.

Your face goes up in flames. “What—n-no. I mean yes. I mean—Shoko said she’d meet me later and I didn’t wanna be late, obviously.”

He hums, clearly amused. “Mhm. Obnoxiously early, huh?”

“Fashionably early,” you grumble, and he laughs, like you’re the most entertaining thing he’s heard all day.

Then he nods his head toward the door. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you to the guys.”

You blink. Wait. Right now??

You glance down at your outfit—cute enough for the gig, maybe not cute enough to meet him again, let alone his entire band. But he’s already walking, and you’re a fool if you don’t follow.

The door creaks open, and you’re hit with the low hum of conversation, faint music playing from someone’s phone, and the scent of sweat and cologne. Your heart’s going a mile a minute.

“Yo,” Choso calls, and two heads turn.

The tall white-haired man draped across the couch offers a lazy grin. “Oh? Who’s this?”

Choso leans against the doorframe and jerks a thumb toward you. “She’s the one I was talking about.”

Your eyes widen. Talking about?? Since when???

“Ooooh,” the other guy drawls from where he’s fiddling with a drumstick, hair tied back and gaze sharp as ever. “So this is her.”

“Shut up,” Choso mutters, but there’s a hint of pink dusting his ears. He looks back at you, eyes soft. “That’s Satoru—he never shuts up. And that’s Suguru. Don’t let him fool you—he’s worse.”

“Lies and slander,” Satoru says with a wink.

You’re frozen. Do you wave? Speak? Die on the spot?

“Hi,” you say, awkwardly.

Suguru offers a small nod. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Finally???

Satoru leans forward with a devilish grin. “Choso wouldn’t shut up about you, y’know?”

Choso visibly tenses. “Go bother someone else.”

But it’s too late—you’re already flushed to your ears, and Satoru’s howling with laughter.

“You’re cute,” he tells you. “You can stick around.”

You glance at Choso, and he gives you the smallest smile. Like you belong here.

And for the first time—you think maybe you do.

He walks ahead a bit, glancing over his shoulder as he gestures toward the sound booth. “That’s Nao, our sound tech. She’s the only reason we don’t sound like trash onstage.”

Nao waves without looking up from her monitor, and you awkwardly lift a hand back. Choso chuckles under his breath.

He keeps going, showing you the light setup, where they stash backup guitars, even the vending machine he’s pretty sure is haunted. Every person you pass gives you that look—oh, so this is the girl.

Your fingers twist nervously around the strap of your bag. It’s not like they’re being unfriendly. If anything, everyone’s nice. Welcoming, even. But still—you can’t shake the nerves bubbling in your chest.

You feel his gaze before you hear his voice.

“Nervous?” he asks, quiet and low.

You blink up at him. He’s standing close now, one hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket, watching you like he’s not sure if he’s scaring you or if you’re just shy.

You swallow. “A little.”

His mouth twitches—almost a smile. “You don’t have to be. Everyone’s chill.”

You nod, but you know the tension is still written all over your face.

And then—he reaches out. Just a light touch to your wrist. “Hey. I asked you here ‘cause I wanted you to come. Not to freak you out.”

His voice is soft now, just for you.

You manage a sheepish smile. “Sorry. It’s just… new.”

He shrugs, lips curling slightly. “Yeah. But I’m not that scary, right?”

You meet his eyes, and the look he gives you—teasing but warm—makes your stomach flip.

“…Not yet,” you murmur.

And he laughs, head tilted back like you just said the funniest thing all night. “You’re cute.”

Great. Now you’re even more nervous.

He walks you over to the stage setup, lights dim and moody, the buzz of crew members in the background. The instruments are neatly arranged—drum kits, amps, tangled cords, and at the center, his guitar resting on its stand.

He picks it up effortlessly, letting the strap fall over his shoulder. His fingers settle over the strings, and he begins to strum, absentmindedly. It’s not even a real song, just soft notes—but it’s hypnotizing.

Especially the way his fingers move. Long, slender, practiced.

You're staring. Absolutely entranced.

“Wanna try playing?” he asks suddenly.

You snap out of it so fast it’s embarrassing. “H-huh?”

He chuckles, soft and low. “Bit distracted there, sweetheart. You okay?”

“I’m good. Mhm.” You nod a little too quickly, plastering on a tight smile as your face warms. You hope he doesn’t notice, but that knowing glint in his eyes tells you otherwise.

He steps toward you with the guitar, offering it out with a slight tilt of his head. “Here.”

Your hands hover uncertainly. “O-oh… I don’t know how to play.”

He just smiles. “It’s alright, I’ll help you.”

He walks behind you, close enough that you feel the warmth of him at your back. You swear your heart skips a beat when his arms slip around you, guiding yours. He’s gentle as he places your left hand along the neck of the guitar, adjusting your fingers over the frets, his hand covering yours.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, voice right by your ear.

Your breath hitches.

“Shit—sorry, too close?” he asks quickly, voice laced with concern.

“N-no! It’s fine! Totally fine.” You somehow manage to stand upright.

He smiles again, that soft kind of amused. “Alright, just press here... yeah, that’s it.” He places your fingers on the strings. “Now, strum with this hand—lightly. Let the strings breathe.”

You try, hesitantly dragging your fingers down the strings. A clumsy note sounds out.

Choso hums. “Not bad. Now, try a G chord—here, like this.” His fingers mold yours again, warm and careful.

You nod, barely able to think with him this close, and repeat the motion. It sounds... slightly better.

“See?” he says, praising you with a smile in his voice. “Fast learner.”

You glance up at him over your shoulder, heart fluttering. “Maybe I just have a good teacher.”

His lips quirk, and he looks at you like you’ve just made his night.

“Well,” he says, “I am good with my hands.”

Your brain short-circuits.

He grins when he hears that soft, breathy little sound escape your lips.

“O-oh,” you stammer, eyes wide as you blink up at him.

His smile deepens, all teasing and low charm. “Didn’t mean to make you nervous,” he says, though he definitely did.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but your brain’s gone completely blank. The only thing in your head is him. His voice, his scent, the low buzz of his guitar still humming in your hands.

“I—uh, yeah. No. You’re doing great. I mean—I’m doing great. I mean—thank you.”

He laughs. Not mockingly—it's soft, sweet, like he finds you genuinely adorable.

“You’re cute when you get flustered,” he says, voice quiet.

You look down at the guitar in your hands, pretending very hard to be focused on the strings.

“Maybe we’ll get you to play a whole song next time.”

You blink. “Next time?”

He shrugs casually, stepping back just enough to make you miss his warmth. “If you’re coming to the next gig, I figured I’d see you again.”

And then, with the most casual confidence, he adds, “You wanna?”

You blink up at him, heart still pounding from the way he practically wrapped himself around you moments ago. But then—somehow—you find your footing, just enough to muster a sliver of confidence.

You clear your throat, giving him a lopsided little smile. “Let’s see how this one goes first.”

His brows shoot up, clearly amused. “Is that a challenge?”

You shrug, trying not to melt under his gaze. “Depends. You think you can handle it?”

Choso laughs—a low, warm sound that vibrates in your chest more than your ears. He leans in again, just a little, his face dangerously close to yours. “Sweetheart,” he says, voice like silk, “I know I can.”

The crowd is thicker than last time. Hazy neon lights wash the walls in streaks of violet and red, and the room thrums with anticipation. You can feel the energy buzzing through your fingertips, your legs bouncing where you sit off to the side of the stage.

Choso catches your eye just before stepping on. He’s dressed in that same loose black button-up—top few buttons undone, sleeves rolled to the elbows, tattoos stark against his pale skin. His eyes are lined in that soft purple hue again, hair falling wild to his neck, and yet he somehow looks composed. Grounded. Like he was born to be here.

He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a look—half smirk, half something softer—and it sends butterflies flurrying in your chest.

And then: the lights dim. The crowd erupts. The band takes the stage.

Suguru on drums, flashing a grin at the front row before twirling his sticks and slamming into the first beat like a force of nature. Satoru struts forward, mic in hand, already oozing charisma, and Choso—Choso slides into position with his bass like it’s a part of him. One hand gripping the neck, the other plucking strings with a lazy, practiced ease.

The sound hits you like a wave. Loud. Gritty. Addictive.

But even as the music drowns everything out, your eyes stay locked on him.

Choso doesn’t look at the crowd. Doesn’t need to. He’s in his own world—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, swaying with the rhythm like the bass is leading him. And yet, somehow, he still finds a way to glance at you.

Just for a second. A flicker of a smirk.

And that’s when you realize it.

He’s playing for them—but looking at you.

And that smolder in his gaze? That spark that coils low in your belly?

It’s all for you.

The crowd’s roars have faded, the lights are dimming, and you’re still standing there, heart racing. Choso’s walking off stage, sweat-slick and glowing, bass still strapped to his back, and the second his eyes find you he smiles. Soft. Lopsided. Like it’s just for you.

He weaves through the staff with ease, and before you can fully brace yourself, he’s in front of you, that same lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t think you’d actually stick around,” he teases, voice low, raspy from the set.

You roll your eyes, a little bashful. “Had to see if your fingers really lived up to the hype.”

His brows shoot up, surprised—and then he laughs. It’s deep and warm and it makes your stomach do flips. “Oh? And?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I’m not sure yet. Might need a private performance to decide.”

And damn, now he’s the one blushing.

He blinks. Once. Twice. And then that lazy grin deepens into something more—something that makes your throat dry.

“A private performance, huh?” he echoes, slinging the bass off his shoulder, setting it down like he’s done this a thousand times before—cool, collected, practiced. “You planning to book me?”

You cross your arms, trying to look unbothered despite the heat crawling up your neck. “Maybe. Depends on your rates.”

He steps closer, just a little, enough to tilt his head down to look at you properly. His voice drops lower. “I charge in coffee. Late-night conversations. And the occasional secret.”

“Oh?” you arch a brow. “That’s expensive.”

He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re worth it.”

Pause.

Your heart skips. Literally skips.

And suddenly it’s too quiet. The post-show noise is just background hum now—muffled cheers, clinks of beer bottles, bandmates laughing somewhere behind you. But he’s looking at you like you’re the only person who matters in this moment. Like he wants to learn you.

So you try to deflect, half-teasing, “You say that to all the girls who hang around after shows?”

He hums, like he’s pretending to think. “No,” he says finally. “You’re the only one who stayed quiet the whole time. Just… watched.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Was it creepy?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. It was nice. Felt like you were listening to more than just the music.”

You weren’t. You were listening to him.

But you don’t say that. Instead, you glance away, pretending not to be swooning.

And then—

“Hey,” he says softly, nudging your chin with two fingers to bring your gaze back to his. “Wanna get outta here?”

Your breath hitches. “Huh?”

He smiles, easy and relaxed, eyes scanning your face like he’s memorizing it. “There’s this spot a few blocks from here—low lights, decent drinks, great fries. Thought maybe I could buy you one. A drink, not a fry,” he adds with a little chuckle.

Your heart is thudding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. “Are you… asking me out?”

He shrugs, casual but undeniably charming. “If I said yes, would you say no?”

You try to play it cool, crossing your arms even though your insides are a whole storm. “You planning to pull that whole mysterious musician act the whole time?”

He leans in just a bit, close enough for your noses to nearly brush. “Only if it gets me a second date.”

And just like that, you’re done for.

“...I guess I could go for a drink.”

His grin widens. “Good. I’ll grab my jacket.”

The bar he takes you to is tucked away on a quiet street, the kind of place you wouldn’t find unless someone told you about it. There’s warm yellow lighting, a soft hum of old-school music playing on the speakers, and barely anyone around. It’s intimate in a way that makes your skin feel warm before you’ve even taken a sip of your drink.

He lets you slide into the booth first, then settles in across from you. His hands rest on the table, rings catching the light, and you find your gaze drawn to them—again. Damn those fingers.

“I’m not used to people sticking around after shows,” he says, eyes not leaving yours.

“I’m not used to chasing after bassists,” you shoot back, lips twitching.

He smirks. “So I’m special, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the smile you’re fighting wins. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Your drinks come. He lets you steal a sip of his. You let him steal two of yours.

“What got you into music?” you ask after a while, resting your chin on your hand.

He leans back, gaze flickering up like he’s searching the ceiling for the answer. “My dad, actually. He taught me how to play. He was obsessed with rhythm—said it was the heart of everything.”

You nod slowly. “He still around?”

Choso shakes his head. “Nah. Been a while. But I think he’d get a kick out of seeing me like this.”

There’s a quiet between you, not awkward, just full. You sip your drink.

“What about you?” he asks. “What do you do when you’re not falling for mysterious musicians at dive bars?”

You raise a brow. “Who said I was falling?”

His lips curve. “Touché.”

You end up telling him more than you thought you would. About your work, your favorite food, even boring little details. But he listens like every word matters. Laughs when you least expect it. His foot nudges yours under the table halfway through the night, and it stays there.

Eventually, the lights get lower, and the bar empties out.

“Guess we closed the place down,” you say, glancing around.

Choso’s watching you with a soft look. “Wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

Your heart flutters. “Same place?”

He smiles, gaze never leaving yours. “Sure.”

The night doesn’t end there.

He insists on walking you home—no arguments, no jokes, just slips his hand into yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And you let him, fingers intertwining with his, warmth blooming in your chest. It’s a quiet walk, but not the awkward kind. It’s that gentle, late-night calm. Like the whole world slowed down just for the two of you.

And for once, he’s not the brooding bassist with sharp eyeliner and calloused fingers. He’s just Choso. A guy who likes the way your hand fits in his. A guy who lets out a soft chuckle when you shiver and instinctively step closer.

You reach your place too soon.

You stop at the doorstep, neither of you making a move. No one says anything. You should probably say something. Goodnight. Thanks. This was fun. But the words get caught somewhere in your throat.

He steps closer instead.

There’s a breath between you. Just one.

And then his lips are on yours—soft, almost hesitant, like he’s asking if this is okay. And you answer him by fisting the fabric of his shirt and pulling him in. His hand comes up to your cheek, holding you steady as he kisses you again. Still gentle. Still quiet. But it makes your head spin all the same.

When he finally pulls back, he stays close, forehead pressed lightly to yours.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your heart might’ve actually stopped.

You slam the door shut behind you, back pressed against it, heart pounding so hard you swear it echoes in your ribcage. You stare at your phone, wide-eyed, thumbs flying:

you: SHOKO

you: SHOKO I NEED YOU TO WAKE UP

you: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY

shoko: it’s literally 1am

shoko: you better be on fire

you: I KISSED HIM

shoko: what

shoko: WHO

shoko: WAIT

shoko: WAIT.

you: YES. HIM.

shoko: THE HOT GUITAR PLAYER???

you: CHOSO. YES. YES. YES

shoko: oh my god you’re so gone

you: HE WALKED ME HOME. HELD MY HAND. KISSED ME. I AM GONE GONE.

shoko: AAAAAAAAAAA

you: HE SAID ‘GOODNIGHT SWEETHEART��

shoko: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

you: I KNOW

You toss your phone onto the bed, face planting right after it, squealing into your pillow like a teenager all over again.

Because you kissed him. And he kissed you back. And you’re never sleeping tonight.

You’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room is quiet—too quiet. You’ve already scrolled through your entire feed twice, tried reading, even got up to make tea you didn’t drink.

Then your phone lights up.

Incoming call: Choso.

Your heart stutters.

You take a breath and answer. “…Hey.”

His voice is warm on the other end. “Hey. Did I wake you?”

You shake your head even though he can’t see. “No. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Same,” he says. “Kept thinking about you.”

Your breath catches. You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, like it might calm your racing heart.

There’s a small silence, but it’s not awkward. It’s soft. Comfortable. Like neither of you really wants to hang up.

He speaks again, voice a little lower. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

You try to play it off. “I put in effort. Didn’t want to show up looking like I did last time.”

“I liked that too,” he says. “But tonight you walked in and I forgot what the hell I was doing.”

You laugh, hiding your face in your pillow.

“I wish I could see you again right now,” he says.

“Me too.”

“Would it be too much if I said I kinda wanna fall asleep listening to you?”

Your stomach flips.

You whisper, “Then stay on the line.”

And you do—both of you quiet, just breathing, letting the silence say everything.

You're standing outside the bar, shifting on your feet, trying to act like you haven’t been checking your reflection in every window on the walk here.

This time, your outfit isn’t casual by accident. You planned it. Styled your hair just right. Even put on that gloss you save for special occasions.

You step inside and immediately spot him, leaning back against a booth like he owns the place, one arm slung lazily over the seat. His eyes lift—

—and damn.

They rake down your figure slowly, like he’s drinking you in. And when they return to your face, there’s the smallest upward curve to his lips.

“Someone dressed to impress,” he says, standing as you approach.

“Maybe,” you reply, coy. “You are the star of the show, after all.”

He laughs low in his throat, hand brushing the small of your back as he leans in close. “Nah,” he murmurs. “Tonight, it’s all about you.”

You sit together in the same booth. This time, there’s no ice to break. The tension simmers warm between you—his knee bumps yours under the table and doesn’t move away. His eyes flicker to your lips more than once.

“So,” you say, swirling your drink. “What happens after drinks, guitar boy?”

He smirks, elbow resting on the table as he leans closer. “Depends. You thinking of letting me kiss you again?”

You raise your brows. “You planning on asking?”

He tilts his head. “I could. But you didn’t seem to need much prompting last time.”

That earns him a playful nudge. And a flustered laugh.

He grins. "Take your time, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."

The jukebox crackles as the next track begins—slow, dreamy, sweet.

Like falling asleep in warm hands. Like the part in a romance film where everything softens.

Before you can even comment on the vibe shift, Choso is rising from the booth, hand extended toward you, palm up.

Your brows lift. “You serious?”

He just smiles. “C’mon. Dance with me.”

You hesitate—because, what? In a bar? With him?? But his fingers flex, waiting, and the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible to say no.

You slip your hand into his.

He pulls you gently to the dance floor. There’s no one else there—just you, him, and the slow rhythm bleeding from the speakers. His hands settle on your waist. Yours hover awkwardly before curling behind his neck.

You sway.

“I didn’t take you for a dancer,” you mumble, heart skipping when he twirls you suddenly.

He smirks. “I’m not.”

You laugh—loud and sweet and so damn happy. And when he catches you again, you don’t pull away. Instead, you melt into him, resting your head against his chest, feeling the soft thud of his heartbeat under the fabric of his shirt.

His hand traces slow circles on your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, nuzzling in closer. “Yeah… It’s perfect.”

He rests his chin lightly atop your head. And neither of you says another word.

Not when the song ends.

Not when the next one starts.

Because for that moment—it’s just the two of you, swaying under dim lights, held together by the sound of a love song.

You step outside into the night, your breath curling in pale puffs. The air is colder than before, wrapping around your bare arms like a whispered warning. You shiver.

Without a word, Choso shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, tugging you into his side. His hand rests at your waist, warm and firm, grounding you.

For a while, you just stand there—side by side, quiet. The city buzzes in the distance, cars passing, streetlights humming.

You glance up at him, and he’s already looking at you. Hard.

Like he’s trying to memorize the slope of your jaw. The way the wind lifts your hair. The way your lips part just slightly when you breathe.

“What?” you ask, a soft laugh in your voice, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Just wets his lips. His fingers flex against your hip.

“I just…” he starts, voice rough with restraint. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You blink, heart thudding once. Twice.

The pause stretches.

“Yeah?” you murmur, leaning in a fraction. Teasing.

He nods once. Barely.

You smile—heart pounding in your throat. “So why don’t you?”

And that’s all it takes.

He cups your face with both hands, thumbs brushing the apples of your cheeks like you’re made of porcelain. And when his lips finally meet yours—it’s soft. Slow. Full of the tension he’s been carrying all night, unspooling between you in breathless silence.

His nose bumps yours. Your hands fist the front of his shirt again. Just like last time.

Only this time, you don’t stop at one kiss.

And when you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice low:

“You’re gonna ruin me, y’know that?”

You laugh, barely a whisper against his lips, breath mingling with his. “Then I guess I better make it worth your while.”

That gets a reaction.

His gaze darkens just slightly, lips twitching into the faintest smirk as his hands slide down from your cheeks, one settling at the nape of your neck while the other pulls you flush against him. “You trying to kill me, sweetheart?”

You don’t answer.

Because you’re already kissing him again.

This time it’s different.

Less hesitant.

More hungry.

Your fingers find his hair, tangling in the dark strands that fall just past his neck, tugging gently until he groans into your mouth. He kisses you deeper, like he’s starved, like he hasn’t been thinking about this since the first night he met you in the crowd, eyes wide and awe-struck.

His hand grips your waist, fingers digging in—not too hard, but enough to make your breath hitch.

You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to nip at your bottom lip, tongue flicking against it before pulling back just enough to breathe:

“You’re trouble.”

You blink up at him, dazed, lips kiss-swollen and heart racing. “You’re one to talk.”

And he laughs—low and breathy, pressing another quick kiss to your mouth like he can’t help himself.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “Let me walk you home before I get any worse ideas.”

The walk back is quiet—but not the awkward kind. It’s heavy with something, charged with unspoken words and lingering touches. His fingers brush yours with every step, and each time it happens, your breath catches.

You swear he’s doing it on purpose.

But you don’t stop him.

The streetlights cast a soft glow on him, turning his features golden for a moment, then shadowed the next. He looks… different like this. Softer. Less like the untouchable bassist who had you practically drooling the first night, and more like someone you could fall for if you’re not careful.

You sneak a glance at him.

He’s already looking at you.

You look away fast, heart leaping, and he chuckles under his breath.

"Cold?" he asks, tugging you gently closer.

You nod, even though that’s not why you’re shaking.

His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your head fits against him perfectly, and his hand rubs slow circles against your arm, warm and grounding.

“Still nervous?” he murmurs.

You laugh quietly. “Little bit.”

“Me too.”

You tilt your head to look at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nods. “You make me nervous.”

You’re about to say something—anything—but then you’ve reached your place.

And suddenly, you don’t want to go inside.

He stops in front of your door, letting you go with a reluctant sigh. His hand lingers on your arm for a second longer before falling away.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then he shoves his hands into his pockets and asks, “You gonna call me?”

You nod. “If you answer.”

He grins. “Always.”

You hesitate—just for a second—and then press a soft kiss to his cheek. It’s quick, but the way his breath hitches tells you it did the trick.

“Goodnight, Choso.”

And before he can pull you in again, before you can throw all common sense out the window and kiss him properly, you slip inside.

Heart pounding. Lips tingling.

You wake up with your heart still pounding.

And not because of a nightmare.

Nope. This was worse.

Because it was real.

You kissed Choso.

Again.

And not in a dreamlike, floaty, “this could be a maybe” kind of way. You kissed him after swaying in his arms like some romcom protagonist. You kissed him, and he kissed you back, and you felt your knees give just a little, and you definitely whimpered against his mouth like a fool.

You groan and roll onto your side, burying your face in your pillow.

You’re so doomed.

Your phone vibrates.

You blink and grab it, squinting at the screen.

choso: didn’t want to wake you but i just wanted to say

choso: thank you for last night

You freeze.

Sit up slowly.

Your heartbeat? Violent.

You tap out a reply, delete it, rewrite it, delete again. Finally, you just go with:

you: it was nothing :)

Immediately after sending it:

you: i’m being weird aren’t i ignore me please

And then:

you: but also don’t ignore me because i liked it and i like you and i’m going to stop talking now before i make it worse

Your phone is dangerously quiet for thirty seconds.

Then it buzzes again.

choso: you’re not being weird.

choso: you’re being adorable

choso: i like you too

choso: also… can i see you again tonight?

You shriek into your pillow.

And then type:

you: you better

You weren’t expecting it when he texted you earlier that day.

come to the studio. i want you to hear something.

Now here you are, walking through a narrow hallway that smells like cigarettes and worn leather, Choso’s voice telling the receptionist to let you in. He meets you at the door, hoodie on, hair loosely tied back, a pair of headphones slung around his neck.

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes raking over you with a small smile tugging at his lips.

You smile back, brushing past him as he closes the door behind you. The studio is dimly lit, a warm orange hue cast by the LED strips lining the edges of the ceiling. There’s a worn-out couch in the corner, an empty coffee cup on the desk, and wires everywhere.

He leads you to a chair beside him. “Wrote something last night. Thought you might want to hear it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Inspired by anything?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a look.

He clicks a few keys on his laptop, and music starts playing—slow, rich bass, soft drums, a melody that feels like it’s watching you breathe. Then lyrics—his voice, lower and raspier than usual.

And the words? They burn.

It’s about being unable to get someone off your mind. About how they haunt your quiet moments. About wanting something that feels dangerous and delicate at the same time.

When it ends, there’s a beat of silence.

“…You wrote that?” you ask.

Choso nods, slow. “All of it.”

“It’s…” Your voice catches. “It’s beautiful.”

He leans back, watching you carefully. “It’s about you. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

The room feels smaller. Hotter. You swallow.

You murmur, “I didn’t know I had that kind of effect on you.”

“You don’t,” he says, stepping closer. “You have more.”

He’s standing between your knees now. One hand on the armrest beside you. The other gently tilts your chin up.

“Can I kiss you again?”

You nod before your brain even catches up.

And then he does—slower this time. Like he’s savoring it. His lips slot against yours and the world blurs. His hand slips to your waist, drawing you closer, and you wrap your arms around his neck without thinking.

The music plays on in the background. But neither of you hears it.

His lips are warm against yours, stealing every thought from your head. One kiss turns into two, then three—deeper, slower, more intense. His hands settle on your waist, firm, grounding. You melt into him without thinking.

But then—between kisses, you manage a breathless whisper, lips brushing his as you speak.

“Choso, not here—there’s people around.”

His eyes open slowly, pupils blown wide. He glances around, then back at you, and that look in his eyes? It's trouble.

Without saying a word, he grabs your hand. “Come on.”

You barely catch your breath before he’s pulling you along, weaving past people, straight toward the exit. His grip doesn’t loosen, even when he’s fumbling for his keys. He unlocks his car in a rush and opens the passenger door for you before sliding into the driver’s seat himself.

The whole ride is charged—silent, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional stolen glance. He taps the steering wheel with his fingers, the ones that had just been ghosting over your skin minutes ago.

When he pulls into the parking lot of his building, he doesn’t waste time. Hands still locked with yours, he leads you upstairs, heart pounding just as fast as yours.

The second the door shuts behind you, he turns around—and everything finally snaps.

Choso doesn’t pounce. He doesn’t rush.

He leans against the door, just watching you. Taking you in like it’s the first time. His eyes roam your face, your lips—your heaving chest. There’s a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he’s trying not to smile.

“You sure?” he asks, voice low, husky.

You nod, breathless. “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes.

He pushes off the door slowly, strides over like a man with nowhere else to be. His hands find your waist, gentle at first, then firm. His head dips down, lips ghosting over your jaw, your cheek, your mouth—but he doesn’t kiss you yet.

“You look so pretty tonight,” he murmurs, voice thick with restraint.

His nose grazes your neck, and you shudder. Every place his breath touches feels like it’s burning.

“You always look pretty,” he adds, kissing just below your ear now. “But tonight?”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, lips brushing lower.

“You’re killing me.”

Your hands find the hem of his hoodie, fingers twitching as you lift it up slowly—exposing the pale skin of his stomach inch by inch. He lets you, arms raised, letting the fabric slide off and onto the floor. The tattoos swirl over his chest, catching the soft glow of the apartment lights, and your fingers can’t help but trace them.

“Still nervous?” he asks, voice rougher now.

You shake your head. “No. Just… can’t believe this is real.”

Choso tilts your chin up, makes you look at him. His gaze is so intense it steals the breath from your lungs.

“It is,” he says. “And we’ve got all night.”

He kisses you again, this time softer, slower. No rush. Just lips moving against yours with quiet reverence, like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth.

His hands stay on your waist, warm and steady, but you feel the way his thumbs are drawing lazy circles on your skin—like he’s trying to ground himself. Like he’s savoring the moment as much as you are.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He hums into the kiss, one hand sliding up your back, fingers curling into your hair.

The path to the bedroom is a blur.

You’re not sure how you get there—if he carries you, or if you walk, tangled up in each other, lips never parting for more than a breath.

The room is dim, lit only by the city lights bleeding through the blinds. It paints both of you in silver and shadow. Choso backs you toward the bed, and when your knees hit the edge, he pauses. Looks down at you like you’re something sacred.

You swallow, heart thundering. “Are you gonna keep staring or—”

“Shh.” He dips his head, kisses your neck, just under your jaw. “Let me take my time with you.”

You shiver. God, his voice—low, velvet, dangerous.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

He pushes you onto the bed and you bounce slightly on it. He’s crawling up your body, hands trailing along your sides, slipping beneath your shirt—fingertips so gentle it sends goosebumps across your skin. You raise your arms, let him take it off. He discards it carefully, almost reverently, and then he’s touching you again.

It’s not frantic. It’s worship.

The way he kisses down your chest, murmuring things you can’t even process. The way he handles you like he’s scared you’ll break. His mouth is everywhere—leaving warmth and wetness and little marks that’ll be there tomorrow. Proof that this happened. That he happened.

When his hands slip lower, and he finally asks, “Can I?”—you nod, breathless, and he grins, slow and sinful.

“Good,” he whispers. “Because I’m not stopping tonight.”

His touch starts soft. Teasing.

His fingers graze along your thigh, slipping under your skirt. Just the pad of one finger tracing your inner thigh, slow and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to unravel you. He watches your reactions closely—every breath, every twitch, every clench of your thighs like it’s his favorite show.

“Already shaking,” he murmurs with a smirk, fingers drifting up higher, stopping just at the edge of your underwear. “And I’ve barely touched you.”

When he finally slips his hand beneath the fabric of your panties, his fingers are warm, his touch confident. He finds you wet—soaked—and he groans low in his throat.

“Fuck... all this for me?”

His middle finger drags through your folds, slow and deliberate, gathering everything, spreading it around before circling your clit—just barely touching it. It’s maddening.

“You’re already this worked up,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss your jaw. “What happens when I really start?”

He’s rushing to take your underwear off, almost ripping them in the process. Then—finally—he eases a finger inside.

It’s slow at first. Just one finger, shallow thrusts, curling up and stroking that spot inside you until your hips start chasing him, greedy for more. He watches your face the whole time, eats up every whimper.

“Choso… more,” you whisper, barely able to speak.

His eyes flick up, dark and hungry. “Yeah?” he murmurs. “You can take another?”

You nod, breathless.

He slides a second finger in—thicker, deeper. His palm presses against your clit as his fingers work inside you, curling just right, just enough pressure to make your back arch. His other hand grabs your thigh, keeps you open and steady as he builds a rhythm.

It’s obscene—the wet, messy sounds of his fingers fucking into you—but it only makes him grin.

“You hear that, sweetheart?” he says lowly.

You’re gasping now, clutching the sheets, legs shaking. He really is good with his hands.

“C’mon,” he whispers against your neck, tongue darting out to taste you. “Let go for me.”

And with one more curl, one more stroke—you do.

You come around his fingers, back arching, a moan ripped from your chest as he keeps moving through it, working you until you’re twitching, thighs trembling against him.

When he finally pulls his fingers out, he brings them to his lips.

“Tastes even better than I imagined,” he says, voice low and ruined.

He doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath.

The second those words leave his mouth, his gaze drops—hungry, wicked—and before you can ask what he’s doing, he’s already moving.

He’s moving down your body, settling between your legs, hands parting your thighs, spreading you wide open for him. You barely manage a gasp before his mouth is on you.

And fuck.

He licks a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit—moaning against you like he’s tasting something divine. His tongue is hot, wet, firm—flicking against your clit before flattening and dragging against it again. He’s not shy. He devours.

You twitch under him, gasping, and his grip on your thighs tightens.

“Stay still for me,” he murmurs against you, breath fanning over your soaked heat. “Let me eat, baby.”

And oh, does he eat.

He buries his face between your legs like he’s starved—lips and tongue and heat and mess, sucking your clit into his mouth, groaning when your fingers grab his hair and pull. His nose nudges your clit, the piercings in his ears cold against your thigh.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting your hips just right so he can get even deeper. His tongue fucks into you, messy and wet, before he pulls back to mouth at your clit again.

You’re a wreck—panting, eyes rolling back, legs trembling on either side of his head. He loves it. You can tell by the way he hums into you, nose buried in your folds, like every whimper out of you is a personal victory.

Your thighs start to close around his head—he lets them. Arms locking around your legs, holding you there like he wants to be suffocated. And with one more flick of his tongue—one more swirl, one more perfect pressure—

You cry out, hips jerking, thighs clenching, and he doesn’t stop. He works you through it, licking, kissing, groaning against your cunt like he’s drunk off you.

When your body finally slumps back against the mattress, dazed and spent, he pulls back just enough to look up at you.

His mouth glistens. His eyes are wrecked.

And he licks his lips.

“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Choso’s mouth is still hot against yours, the kiss messy and hungry, his tongue sliding over yours like he can’t get enough of the taste of you.

He unbuckles his belt, pushing his pants down along with his boxers, his girthy length slapping against his abdomen. Your mouth parts in a soft gasp at the sight of it. But you don't have time to marvel at it. His hands are already on your thighs, pushing them up—higher, higher—until you're folded in half in a mean mating press.

“Gonna keep you like this,” he murmurs, voice rough, chest heaving. “Wanna see your face while I fuck you.”

Your breath catches.

His hands hook behind your knees, holding them open as he shifts forward. The position has you completely laid out for him, helpless beneath the weight of his body. You feel his cock, thick and hard, dragging over your slick entrance—and then he pushes in, slow and deep.

You whimper—a sound torn from your throat, soft and wrecked, your back arching as he presses deeper.

Choso groans, low and guttural, head falling forward to rest against yours. His breath fans hot across your cheek, and you swear you can feel the tremble in his arms as he holds himself still—just for a second.

“F-fuck…” he breathes, voice rough with restraint. “You’re so fucking tight like this…”

His hips roll forward again, slower this time, the movement deliberate—like he wants you to feel every inch. “Feels like you’re made for me,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a rasp.

Your fingers scramble across the expanse of his back, nails dragging, searching for something to ground you. His shoulders, his arms, anything—because the way he’s filling you, stretching you, it’s too much and not enough at the same time.

Then he starts to move. Deep. Steady. And the new angle is devastating.

He hits every spot just right, his cock dragging along your walls, slow and purposeful, grinding into the deepest parts of you with every thrust. Your legs tremble in his hold, pinned back and open for him, the pressure building with each stroke. Your jaw falls open, a moan slipping free—high-pitched and desperate.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

But it’s not pain. No—never that.

It’s overwhelming. It’s perfect. It’s him.

“You’re taking it so well,” he grits out, eyes burning into yours as his pace deepens. “Fuck—just like that, baby. Taking all of me.”

You blink up at him, dazed, lips parted as your moans spill freely. He leans down—closer, closer—until your thighs are nearly flush to your chest and his weight settles on top of you, heavy and grounding.

And he fucks you.

Not rough, but intentional—each stroke slow and deep, hips rolling so he never leaves you empty. He watches your face, watches every twitch of your brows, every flutter of your lashes. Like he’s trying to memorize it. All of it.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling when his thrusts grind just right. His name escapes you in a whimper—over and over, his name like a mantra.

“Choso—” you gasp. “Oh my God—Choso, I-I…”

“I know,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

You’re soaked—messy, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling where your bodies meet. The wet slap of skin on skin is loud in the room, underscored by the soft creak of the mattress and your broken cries.

He shifts, angling just so, and you shatter.

Your body seizes, nails digging into his back as your orgasm rips through you, sudden and all-consuming. A sob leaves your throat, your back arching as your walls flutter and clamp down around him.

With a low groan, he shifts—gently, carefully—his hands sliding beneath your thighs to lower them. You gasp softly when he wraps your legs around his waist, keeping you close, keeping you full, as his hips press flush to yours.

He groans—a raw, broken sound—his hips stuttering. “Shit—fuck, I’m close—where do you want it, sweetheart?”

You barely think. You just nod, desperate. “Inside—please—inside.”

That’s all he needs.

He presses in deep, body trembling, a shudder running through him as he spills into you, cock twitching with every pulse of his release. You feel the heat of it—so much, thick and warm as it fills you up. And still, he doesn’t stop.

He keeps moving—soft, shallow thrusts that drag it out, that make your body twitch and whimper, overstimulated and glowing.

His name slips from your lips again, quieter this time, your fingers trailing down his back, soothing over sweat-slick skin.

And then—finally—he stills.

Buried to the hilt. Breathing hard. Forehead pressed to your shoulder, lips ghosting over your collarbone.

“I’ve got you,” he says again, voice low and reverent.

His hands settle on your waist, thumbs stroking your skin like he’s grounding himself.

"Don’t want to let go just yet," he murmurs, voice rough with emotion and aftermath. He leans down, kissing your shoulder, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “Feels too good like this.”

You hum, dazed and pliant, arms winding around his neck as your forehead rests against his. His weight, his warmth—it’s comforting. Heavy in the best way.

Every small shift makes you gasp—too sensitive, too raw—but you don’t ask him to move.

You don’t want him to either.

And neither does he.

So he stays there—buried deep, your legs locked around his waist, your bodies tangled as if they were always meant to be like this.

After, when the haze finally starts to fade, Choso is the first to move—but only just.

He brushes your hair from your face with slow fingers, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and full of concern. Gentle. So gentle. “Was that… too much?”

You shake your head, barely able to speak as you whisper, “No. It was perfect.”

He exhales, and the breath sounds like relief. Like he needed to hear that.

Without a word, he slips out of bed, grabbing a warm cloth and returning to you. He moves with such care—his hands slow, wiping between your thighs with reverence, like you’re something precious. You flinch a little at the sensitivity, and he mumbles a soft “Sorry” as he presses a kiss to your knee, his gaze flickering up to check on you again.

Once you’re clean, he tosses the cloth aside and crawls back under the covers. You instinctively curl into him, and he opens his arms wide, pulling you in, tucking your head beneath his chin.

His fingers trace slow, lazy circles along your spine. Your legs are tangled with his, your body warm and sore and safe. He smells like sweat and sex and his cologne, and you want to fall asleep in this exact moment, forever.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs against your hair.

You blink up at him. “That’s my line.”

He smiles, barely-there but so real. “Guess we’ll take turns.”

You laugh—quiet, muffled against his chest—and he hums along with it, fingers still moving along your back.

A silence settles between you, but it isn’t awkward. It’s peaceful. The kind that only comes after letting someone see you bare in every way.

He breaks it eventually, voice thick with sleep. “You staying over?”

“Mhm.”

“You sure?”

You nod, eyes fluttering closed. “Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”

And neither would he.

So he kisses the top of your head one more time, murmurs something soft and unintelligible against your skin, and lets himself fall asleep with you in his arms.

Exactly where you both want to be.

author's note. this is just pure choso brainrot because i could not get that fanart out of my head so ofc i had to write something about it. (choso girlies, i'm borrowing your man for a while, thank you)

please do not steal, modify or translate my work.

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blueberrisdove-sideblog · 4 months ago

Text

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘ SQUIRTING FOR THE FIRST TIME ?!

． paring: Caleb, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Rafayel x bratty fem!reader

．summary: how they react when you squirt for the first time!

．warnings: nsfw/smut, creampie, tit fucking, cum-play, rough s*x, cow girl, mirror s*x, spanking, hair pulling, Caleb is a switch (sub to dom), pussy slapping, fingering, nipple sucking and biting.

．note : not proof read also the art is by : rororo_mg on X. Also dunno if this is ooc for them! Also zayne’s part is very long. ^_^

＠ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ；

Caleb always had that cocky little smirk when he looked at you, all charm and mischief, like he knew exactly what you were up to before you even opened your mouth. And right now, that smirk was stretched wide as he laid beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs while you rocked against his cock, taking him deeper with every bounce.

“God, babe,” he groaned, breath hot against your skin as he pushed himself up just enough to mouth at your tits, teasing one nipple between his lips. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

You rolled your hips a little harder just to hear him moan, just to feel the way his cock twitched inside you. “Yeah?” You panted, fingers threading through his sweat-damp hair, tugging just enough to make him look up at you. “I thought pilots were supposed to have more stamina than this.”

His eyes darkened at that, something shifting in the way he gripped you—less playful, more possessive. “Oh, you wanna play like that, pipsqueak?” His voice was rough, teasing, but there was an edge to it now, one that made your stomach clench with anticipation.

Before you could get another smart remark out, he bucked his hips up, thrusting into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. A gasp caught in your throat as your clit rubbed right up against his abs, the pressure sparking something electric inside you.

“Shit—” you whined, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Caleb smirked, hands sliding up your waist before one gripped your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”

You should’ve been annoyed—maybe even fought back a little—but the way he was fucking up into you, the way his cock stretched you just right, made it impossible to do anything but whimper. His abs were slick with sweat, flexing beneath you every time he moved, and that friction against your clit was too much.

“Baby—” your voice cracked, body tensing. “Fuck, I—”

Caleb groaned at the way your walls fluttered around him, at the way you trembled in his hold. “Gonna come for me?” He muttered, dragging his thumb over your clit, slow and deliberate. “Go on, pipsqueak, make a mess.”

The coil in your stomach snapped all at once, white-hot pleasure ripping through you as you came harder than you ever had before. Your entire body shook, legs squeezing tight around his waist as the pressure inside you exploded—soaking his cock, his abs, everything beneath you.

“Holy fuck.” His voice was thick with awe and something even deeper, fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you through it, prolonging every second of your high. “Did you just—”

You couldn’t even answer, gasping for air as aftershocks shuddered through you. Caleb swore under his breath, hands roaming up your back before he flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion. His cock was still buried deep inside you, still hard, still throbbing.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as he rolled his hips, slow and teasing, making you whimper. “Guess I’ll have to make you do it again, huh?”

Caleb let out a breathless laugh, brushing his fingers over the slick mess coating his abs. His smirk was cocky as ever, but there was something else in his eyes—something darker, more ravenous.

“Damn, pipsqueak,” he murmured, voice husky as he rocked his hips forward again, making you gasp. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Your whole body was still trembling, oversensitive, but the way his cock dragged against your walls, still so deep, had heat pooling in your stomach all over again.

“Shut up,” you muttered, trying to sound confident, but your voice was wrecked, breathy.

He just grinned, leaning in so close his lips brushed against your ear. “Oh? Thought you liked mouthing off.” His hips rolled forward, slow and deliberate, and you whined at the way your clit dragged against his abs again. “What happened, babe? Already fucked dumb?”

You clenched around him, hands gripping his biceps, trying to push him away just to get a second to breathe. But Caleb wasn’t having it.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmured, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. His strength was effortless, like he wasn’t even trying. “I haven’t even started with you yet.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, that teasing lilt still in his voice, but there was something serious underneath—something that made your pulse stutter.

“Y’know,” he mused, dragging his lips down the column of your throat, pressing just hard enough to make you squirm, “I think I like you better like this. All messy and fucked out.”

You glared at him, trying to get some control back. “I can still—”

He didn’t let you finish. One sharp thrust sent you keening, your back arching as his cock hit that spot deep inside you, sending sparks dancing up your spine.

“What was that, babe?” Caleb’s voice was thick with amusement, but his breathing was rough now, too, his control starting to slip. “Didn’t catch that.”

You couldn’t even answer, too lost in the way he was moving—deep and precise, grinding against your clit just enough to keep you on edge.

“Yeah,” he muttered, nipping at your jaw, “that’s what I thought.”

And then he really started fucking you.

The slow, teasing pace was gone. He set a ruthless rhythm, hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with your ragged moans. His grip on your wrists tightened, keeping you pinned beneath him as he chased his own pleasure, his abs flexing against your clit with every thrust.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can’t believe you were holding out on me, pipsqueak.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper, and Caleb cursed, his cock twitching inside you.

“Shit—‘m close,” he gritted out, voice strained. “Gonna let me fill you up, baby? Hm?”

The way he said it sent you spiraling, your orgasm slamming into you so hard your vision blurred. Your whole body clenched around him, nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out, barely aware of anything but the white-hot pleasure consuming you.

Caleb swore, hips stuttering, before he buried himself deep with a rough groan, spilling inside you, heat flooding your core. His grip on your wrists loosened, and he slumped forward, breathless, his forehead pressing against yours.

For a second, neither of you moved, just panting, your bodies still tangled together. Then, Caleb let out a breathless chuckle.

“Well, damn,” he muttered, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. “First time for everything, huh?”

＠ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ；

The soft hum of the med bay was comforting, a backdrop to the electrifying tension building between you and Zayne. He leaned against the counter, a playful grin spreading across his face as he watched you with those piercing eyes, the warmth of his gaze making your heart race.

“You know, I’m technically on duty,” he said, amusement lacing his voice as he crossed his arms.

You smirked, leaning back against the examination table. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of your patients, Doctor?”

Zayne stepped closer, the playful edge in his demeanor sharpening. “Oh, trust me, I have my hands full with you.”

With a swift movement, he caught your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the table. The contact sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you. “Now, what seems to be the problem?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Just a little ache,” you replied, biting your lip as you glanced down at his firm body. “Right here.” You pressed your thighs together, the heat pooling in your core making it hard to concentrate.

“Let me see if I can help with that.” Zayne's hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing over your tits before he leaned in, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. The way his mouth moved against yours ignited something deep within you, and you responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair.

Zayne pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression a mix of mischief and desire. “You’re gonna need to be more specific.”

With a determined glint in your eye, you gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. “I want you to make me feel good, Doctor.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “Well, I do love a challenge.”

In an instant, he had you pinned against the table, his hands exploring your body with expert precision. His mouth found its way to your tits, hot and wet as he sucked and teased, his hands trailing down your sides. Every flick of his tongue sent shivers down your spine, making your breath hitch.

“Zayne,” you gasped, arching into him as pleasure coursed through you.

He pulled back, eyes dark with lust. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Zayne knelt before you, hands gripping your thighs as he spread your legs apart, his breath hot against your core. “Let’s see just how responsive you are.”

His fingers slid between your folds, teasing your clit with gentle strokes that sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. You gasped, arching your back as he worked you closer to the edge.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So responsive, so eager.”

You whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. “Zayne, please,” you begged, unable to control the desperate need building inside you.

“Please what?” He smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over you. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“More,” you gasped, your hips rolling against his hand. “I want to come—please!”

With a wicked grin, he obliged, quickening the pace of his fingers, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. The pressure built rapidly, the heat spreading through you until it consumed every thought.

“Come for me,” he commanded, voice low and sultry. “I want to see you fall apart.”

That was all it took. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you squirted all over him, soaking his fingers and the floor beneath you. You cried out, your body trembling as Zayne worked you through it, his gaze filled with a mix of awe and hunger.

“Damn,” he breathed, wiping his fingers on his shirt, clearly enjoying the mess you’d made. “You really know how to make a doctor’s day.”

You shot him a playful glare, breathless but eager for more. “Don’t think you’re done with me yet.”

Zayne chuckled, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

In one swift motion, he pulled you upright, his hands gripping your hair as he pressed you back against the table, his gaze intense and commanding. “Now, let’s see just how far we can push your limits.”

Zayne's grip on your hair tightened as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin. “You made quite the mess, babe. I hope you’re ready for round two.”

You felt a rush of excitement at his words, your body still buzzing from the intense release. “I can take it,” you replied, trying to sound confident even as your heart raced in anticipation.

“Good,” he said, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Because I’m just getting started.”

Zayne positioned himself between your legs, his hands roaming down your thighs as he leaned in to plant teasing kisses along your stomach. You squirmed beneath him, your skin alive with sensitivity, every touch sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

“Let’s make sure those lovely tits get the attention they deserve,” he murmured, his mouth finally closing around one of your nipples, sucking and teasing it with his tongue.

You gasped, arching your back as waves of pleasure radiated from your chest. “Zayne, that feels so good,” you breathed, fingers digging into the table as you pushed against him, craving more.

He glanced up at you, eyes dark with desire. “I love hearing you say that,” he said, switching to your other nipple, giving it the same attention while his fingers trailed down your stomach to your slick folds.

With deft fingers, he teased your clit again, circling and pressing just right as he continued to suckle your breast. The combination of sensations had your head spinning, your body responding eagerly to his every touch.

“Z—Zayne, pleaseeee,” you whimpered, feeling the familiar tension building once more.

“Please what?” he taunted, his breath hot against your skin. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Just… don’t stop,” you managed to gasp, urgency creeping into your voice.

“Good answer,” he said, a satisfied smirk on his face as he increased the pressure, fingers moving faster as he thrust two of them deep inside you. The sudden stretch made you moan loudly, your hips grinding against his hand instinctively.

“Look at you, baby,” he teased, his voice low and sultry. “So fucking desperate for my cock.”

“Zayne, I need you,” you breathed, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable. “Please.”

“Alright, but first…” He pulled back slightly, positioning himself between your thighs again. “I want you to try something new.”

Before you could process what he meant, he guided your hands to your breasts, encouraging you to squeeze and play with them while he pumped his cock in front of you. The sight of him, so hard and ready, made your mouth water.

“Tit fuck me,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding. “Show me how much you want it.”

You nodded eagerly, wrapping your hands around your tits and pressing them together, creating a perfect valley for his cock. The warmth of your body against him made Zayne groan, and you felt a thrill at the power you held over him, even as he watched you with a hungry gaze.

“Just like that, babe. Perfect,” he encouraged, guiding his cock between your tits, the sensation driving you wild.

You could hardly believe how good it felt, his cock sliding between your flesh as you pushed your chest together tighter, looking up at him through your lashes. “You like this, huh?”

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, his hands gripping your wrists as he pushed himself deeper between your tits. “You’re so good at this, baby.”

The heat in your core grew as you continued, each thrust of his cock making you wetter, slickness pooling between your legs. Zayne was losing himself in the pleasure, eyes rolling back as he thrust deeper, each movement sending waves of satisfaction through both of you.

“Damn, I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice strained, as he watched you with pure lust.

“Do it,” you urged, the thrill of it all pushing you closer to your own edge. “I want to feel you.”

With a deep groan, Zayne thrust forward one last time, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he spilled himself between your breasts, warm ropes of cum painting your skin.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, watching the sight of him losing control over you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“Now, that’s a mess,” he chuckled, looking down at the sticky fluid covering your chest. “You’re lucky I like it messy.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence at the way he watched you. “I think I might have to return the favor, Doctor.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh really? And how do you plan on doing that?”

With a mischievous grin, you slid off the table, dropping to your knees in front of him, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. “Let me show you.”

He let out a low laugh, clearly impressed by your boldness. “I’m all yours, baby.”

Zayne leaned down, his fingers sliding into your hair, yanking your head back just enough to make you gasp. His smirk was wicked, voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re still feeling bold, huh? Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Before you could fire back, he flipped you over, pressing your chest flat against the examination table. His large hands gripped your ass, spreading you open as he dragged the tip of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your clit until you squirmed beneath him.

“Look at you, so fucking wet,” he murmured, his free hand coming down hard on your ass. The sharp sting made you jolt, a needy whimper escaping you. “You act like a brat, but your body tells me exactly what you want.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you bit out, pushing back against him.

Zayne chuckled darkly. “Still mouthing off?” He didn’t wait for an answer—he thrust into you in one smooth motion, stretching you open as his cock filled you completely.

Your fingers clawed at the table as a strangled moan left your lips. “Fuck—Zayne!”

“That’s right, baby. Let me hear you,” he groaned, setting a brutal pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the med bay, mixed with the filthy wet sounds of him fucking you deep.

His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you back onto his cock harder. The angle had him slamming against your g-spot with every thrust, sending pleasure surging through your body.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, one hand slipping between your legs, fingers finding your clit. He rubbed firm, tight circles, making your legs shake. “I can feel you squeezing me—getting close, aren’t you?”

You were falling apart too fast, the heat coiling in your stomach, the relentless pace of his cock driving you straight to the edge. “Z-Zayne, I—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something dark and commanding. “Come for me. I want to feel you gush all over my cock.”

His fingers pressed harder against your clit, and just like that, the pleasure hit you like a tidal wave. Your body locked up, back arching as you came hard, a sharp cry ripping from your throat as you squirted all over him.

“Fuck yes,” Zayne groaned, watching you soak him. “That’s my good girl.”

Your body trembled, but he didn’t stop. He pulled out just long enough to spread your slickness all over his cock, smearing your wetness against your folds before thrusting back into you with a deep, guttural moan.

The overstimulation had you whimpering, but the pleasure was addicting, your walls fluttering around him as he chased his own release.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he rasped, his thrusts turning erratic. “Gonna fill you up—”

With one last deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning as he spilled inside you, hot cum flooding your pussy. He rocked his hips a few more times, letting you feel every drop before slowly pulling out.

A filthy wet sound followed, his cum oozing from your used hole. Zayne hummed in approval, dragging his fingers through the mess before pushing some of it back inside you, his smirk downright sinful.

“Can’t let it go to waste,” he murmured, watching as you twitched beneath him, body still sensitive. “You look so damn pretty like this, baby.”

You shuddered, still trying to catch your breath, but managed to shoot him a glare. “You’re a menace.”

Zayne only chuckled, sliding his arms around your waist to pull you into his lap, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your lips. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

You sighed, leaning into him, exhaustion and satisfaction settling over you. “…Shut up.”

His grin widened. “Whatever you say, babe.”

＠ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 ；

Xavier had you sprawled out beneath him, his toned body hovering over yours as his fingers ghosted over your skin, teasing, taunting, driving you insane. His sharp blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he trailed his hand between your thighs, brushing over your already swollen clit.

“Mm, look at you,” he mused, voice smooth, dripping with arrogance. “So desperate for me, and yet you were acting like a little brat just a few minutes ago.”

You huffed, shifting beneath him, trying to grind against his hand. “Maybe if you weren’t so slow, I wouldn’t have to be.”

Xavier chuckled, but the amusement in his eyes darkened, something more dangerous lurking beneath. “Oh? Is that right?”

Before you could process it, his palm cracked against your thigh, then your ass, the sharp sting sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Ah—Xavier!” you yelped, the sound melting into a moan as he smoothed his hand over the heated skin.

“Now, that’s better,” he murmured, fingers dipping back between your folds, slipping through the wetness there. “God, you’re soaked, babe. You really do like being put in your place, don’t you?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but a sharp slap to your ass had you gasping.

“I asked you a question,” he said, his voice all silk and steel.

“…Maybe,” you muttered, face burning.

He tsked, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You’re such a pain in the ass.” Another sharp slap made you whimper. “But you’re my pain in the ass.”

You shivered at that, but before you could say anything else, Xavier finally gave in, pushing two fingers into your pussy, stretching you open. The pleasure was immediate, your back arching as he curled them just right, finding that spot that made you tremble.

“Xavier—”

“I know, baby,” he purred, working his fingers faster, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re taking me so well.”

Your breath hitched as the pleasure built fast, the coil in your stomach tightening with every stroke. “I-I need more—”

He smirked. “More?” He withdrew his fingers, ignoring your whine of protest as he leaned back, positioning himself between your legs. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck you properly then.”

You barely had a second to react before he was pushing inside, stretching you open with his cock. The stretch was intense, your walls fluttering around him as he bottomed out, a low groan slipping from his lips.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he murmured, rolling his hips, making you whimper. “So damn tight, baby.”

His hands gripped your hips, setting a ruthless pace, each thrust hitting deep, rubbing against that spot that had you seeing stars. The pleasure was dizzying, your tits bouncing with every movement, heat building in your stomach at an alarming pace.

Xavier watched you, a smug smirk curling his lips. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

You could barely think, barely breathe, the pressure in your core reaching its peak. “X-Xavier, I—”

“I want to see you lose control,” he rasped, his thumb rubbing messy circles against your clit, pushing you over the edge. “Come for me, babe.”

And just like that, the tension snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your whole body shuddered as you came, the force of it so intense that you felt yourself squirt all over his abs.

A strangled moan left your lips, your mind hazy as you collapsed beneath him, body twitching from the aftershocks.

Xavier stilled for a moment, glancing down at the mess you’d made, before a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, running a hand over his slick-covered abs before bringing it to his lips, licking it off with a satisfied hum. “That was fucking hot.”

Your face burned, embarrassment creeping in, but before you could protest, he thrust into you again, making you gasp.

“Oh no,” he chuckled darkly. “We’re not done yet. I need to see you do that again.”

And with the way he was looking at you—hungry, insatiable—you knew you were in for a long night.

＠ 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 ；

Sylus sat with his back against the headboard, his toned arms resting lazily on the pillows, watching you with those piercing red eyes. His expression was unreadable—calm, controlled—but the way his fingers kneaded into your thighs told you everything. He was holding back. Letting you set the pace. But for how long?

You were straddling his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, stretching you open in a way that had your whole body trembling. Your hands were planted on his chest, nails pressing into his skin as you struggled to move, overwhelmed by the sheer fullness of him.

“Look at you,” Sylus murmured, voice smooth, laced with amusement. “Acting all shy now.” His fingers tightened on your hips. “Didn’t seem so shy when you were teasing me earlier, baby.”

Your face burned, but you still mustered up a glare. “I wasn’t teasing,” you muttered, shifting slightly, gasping when the movement made his cock press even deeper.

His lips quirked, but his patience was wearing thin. “No? Then what do you call sitting in my lap, grinding against me, acting like you weren’t desperate to be fucked?”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, refusing to answer.

Sylus hummed, his hands sliding up to your waist, his grip steady but firm. “That’s what I thought.” He guided you up, just enough for the tip of his cock to nearly slip out before dragging you back down onto him. A sharp gasp tore from your lips, your nails raking over his chest as pleasure shot up your spine.

The stretch was too much, the sensation unbearable in the best way. You wanted to move, to fuck yourself on his cock properly, but your body was weak, trembling from how deep he reached inside you.

A whimper escaped your lips, and Sylus groaned at the sound, his composure slipping. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your thighs burned, struggling to keep up with the pace you wanted, and he noticed. The second you faltered, Sylus’s control snapped.

“Can’t do it yourself, huh?” he mused, though his voice was rougher now, his patience long gone. “That’s fine. I’ve got you.”

Before you could react, he gripped your ass, holding you still as he rolled his hips up into you, slow but deep, dragging a broken moan from your lips. Then he did it again. And again.

The pace was brutal, his cock hitting spots that had you gripping onto him for dear life, pleasure mounting too fast to control. Your clit throbbed, the friction driving you higher, pushing you toward a peak that felt different—more intense, more overwhelming than anything you’d ever felt.

“S-Sylus—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your throat. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?”

You could only nod, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Then let go,” he rasped, one hand sliding between you to rub your clit, his thrusts never slowing. “Come for me.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, pleasure crashing over you with a force that left you gasping, your whole body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through you. A sharp cry tore from your lips as you felt it—felt yourself squirt, the rush of liquid soaking Sylus’s cock, dripping down onto his thighs.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his red eyes dark with something primal as he watched you tremble in his lap, completely wrecked.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, voice thick with hunger. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

You barely had the energy to respond, your body still pulsing from the aftershocks, but Sylus wasn’t finished. His hands flexed on your waist before he thrust up into you again, burying himself deep as his own release hit, warmth flooding your insides as he came.

Your body slumped against his, breathless, skin slick with sweat. Sylus ran a hand through your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his other hand lazily trailing over your thigh, brushing against the mess between your legs.

“Looks like I fucked you stupid,” he murmured, smug.

Your weak glare didn’t faze Sylus in the slightest. If anything, it made him smirk, that lazy, knowing expression that only made your stomach tighten all over again. His fingers traced over your thigh, slipping dangerously close to the mess between your legs, deliberately teasing.

“You made a mess, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “Didn’t expect you to squirt like that.” His thumb brushed your swollen clit, making your body jolt against him.

Your breath hitched, still sensitive from your orgasm, but Sylus didn’t care. He spread his fingers, rubbing your pink and creamy slick over your inner thighs, then over his cock, still buried inside you, his release mixing with the wetness between your legs.

“Feel that?” His voice dropped lower, more deliberate. “You’re still drippin’ all over me.”

A whimper escaped your lips as he pressed down on your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles. Your body twitched from the overstimulation, your thighs trembling on either side of him.

“S-Sylus—”

“Hmm?” His free hand slid up your body, fingers curling around your tits, kneading the soft flesh. “Something wrong?”

You shuddered, hips jerking involuntarily against his touch. “Too much—”

He only chuckled, rolling a nipple between his fingers while keeping steady pressure on your clit. “Too much, huh?” He tilted his head, eyes burning into yours. “That’s funny, baby, ’cause your pussy is still clenching around me like you want more.”

Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, torn between sensitivity and the sharp need still buzzing under your skin. He was pushing you past your limit, and he knew it.

Sylus shifted, pressing you down against his chest, trapping you against his heat. His lips brushed over your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. “Be good for me,” he murmured, a sharp contrast to the way his fingers slid between your folds, spreading your slick. “Let me have one more.”

You whimpered, body tensing, but when he thrust up into you—slow, deep, filling you all over again—the last of your resistance crumbled.

＠ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ；

Rafayel’s eyes locked onto yours, that intense pink and blue gaze igniting a fire inside you. He stepped closer, his smirk teasing as he caught the challenge in your expression. “Feeling mean today, huh?”

“Maybe I am,” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye. “What are you going to do about it?”

Without warning, he lifted you effortlessly, settling you on the edge of the bed. You felt your heart race as he knelt before you, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading your legs apart.

“You know I love it when you act like this,” he said, a low growl in his voice as his fingers slid between your wet folds, teasing your pussy. “But let’s see how long you can keep up that attitude.”

His fingers worked expertly, stroking your clit and plunging deep into your slick heat. “You’re already soaked, baby. Can’t resist me, can you?”

You gasped, trying to maintain your defiance but quickly losing your resolve. “Shut up, Raf.”

“Make me,” he challenged, his smirk growing wider as he thrust his fingers deeper, curling them to hit that spot inside you. Your breath hitched, and your back arched as pleasure coursed through you.

“Raf, please,” you whimpered, squirming against his touch, desperate for more.

He didn’t waste any time; with one swift motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing and ready. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“I want it,” you begged, feeling the need building inside you. “Please!”

“Good girl,” he said, and in one powerful thrust, he filled you completely. You gasped at the stretch, his cock hitting all the right spots. “Look at you, so fuckin’ needy.”

He set a brutal rhythm, thrusting deep and hard, his body slamming into yours as he kept his eyes locked on yours, watching every reaction. The pressure built inside you, the familiar tension coiling tighter with each thrust.

“Raf, I’m so close!” you cried, feeling your body ready to explode.

“Just a little more, baby. Let it happen,” he urged, his pace relentless, driving you closer to the edge.

With one final thrust, everything snapped. You felt the overwhelming wave of pleasure crash over you as you squirted for the first time, soaking his cock and the sheets beneath you. Your body trembled, and cries escaped your lips as pleasure washed over you in waves.

Rafayel grunted, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he watched you come undone. “That’s it! Just like that!” he growled, losing himself in the sensation.

“Raf!” you screamed, unable to contain the intense pleasure coursing through you.

“Fuck, I’m right there!” he grunted, thrusting deep as he chased his own release, filling you with his warmth as you both rode the wave together.

Breathless, he collapsed against you, the heat of your bodies mingling as you came down from the high. “You really know how to make things wild,” he panted, a satisfied grin plastered across his face.

Rafayel's grin returned as he caught his breath, that playful glint never leaving his eyes. “Damn, babe, you really squirted everywhere,” he said, looking down at the mess you both made. “Guess I really know how to get you going.”

You laughed breathlessly, the tension from earlier still buzzing in your body. “Yeah, well, maybe you should get used to it.”

“Oh, I plan to,” he shot back, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he playfully nudged you with his knee. “Ready for round two?”

With a quick movement, he turned you around, positioning you on all fours. “Time to show you how fun mirror sex can be,” he teased, guiding himself back inside you from behind.

“Just look at those tits bouncing,” he remarked, his voice light and teasing. “I could watch this all day.”

You felt the familiar mix of pleasure and irritation bubbling up, but the way he kept his tone silly made it hard to stay mad. “You’re ridiculous,” you replied, pushing back against him, wanting more of that delicious friction.

“Ridiculously good at this, right?” he quipped, thrusting harder, the sound of skin slapping filling the air. “Feel that, babe? You like it when I hit you like this?”

“God, yes!” you cried, loving the way his cock filled you up, the way he perfectly mirrored your movements, matching your pace with every thrust.

“Then let’s make a mess again,” he grinned, his tone dripping with playful confidence. With each thrust, he picked up speed, pushing you closer to that familiar edge.

“Raf, I’m close!” you gasped, your clit rubbing against the bed as he drove deeper.

“Let it go, babe,” he urged, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements as you both built toward that climax again. “I want to see you squirt again.”

With his words igniting something primal within you, you surrendered to the pleasure, feeling the tension build until it burst. You squirted again, moaning as pleasure washed over you, the sensation more intense this time as he continued to thrust, sending you spiraling into ecstasy.

“Fuck yes! That’s my girl!” he shouted, his own release following closely as he filled you up, both of you lost in the bliss of the moment.

As you both caught your breath, Rafayel leaned down, his playful demeanor returning, pulling you back against his chest. “You ready for round three? I think we can make an even bigger mess this time.”

You smiled, the warmth of his body against yours making you feel alive. “Bring it on, babe. I’m ready for whatever you’ve got.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

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ridingthatd · 5 months ago

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𝐌𝐑. 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

you didn't know nanami could be so kinky? testing his limit till he's angry seemed to trigger something in him

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 nanami kento x reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 heavy breeding kink, a loooot of cùm, squirting, rough s, angry nanami, possessive, jealousy, angry s, choking, talking you through it, creampies, cùm play, period s, eating your p out till it's swollen, man handling, pet names, daddy nanami , cervix kissing, spitting, kinky, very very smutty

nanami was the sweetest boyfriend anyone could ask for. he would treat you with so much gentility. affection. love.

nanami was really the definition of a gentleman. gentle kisses on your forehead. long big arms folding you close to his chest. muttering nothing but sweet things. breakfast made by him, helping you serve dinner then gently place you on his huge thighs teasingly biting the sensitive part of your neck ripping a sweet giggle out of you. giving you massages to your feet after a long day of wearing heels- kissing the top of your feet while he gently rub the soreness out of it.

nanami was such a man, the aura around him screamed musculanity. muscles surrounded every inch of his body, you weren't really shocked by that since you would wake up to grunting and groaning sounds every morning at 4am- sounds coming from your man as he do his push ups shirtless, biceps flexing each time he goes up-down. up-down. it was such a drooling sight that it had your pussy clenching everytime.

as if nanami could feel your eyes on him. he would stop- taking in a deep breath then slowly get up to take a glance at you. you slowly trail your eyes from the sweat that's dripping from his forehead. to his biceps just to slide across his abs to the delicious v line. grey pants hanging lowly against his hips-failing to hide his boxer the same boxer that's hiding the thick, juicy cock, outlined in his grey pants that's already hard from the attention you're giving him.

"hm" nanami hummed lowly while making his way towards you, trailing his hands under the cover of the blanket just to get ahold of your thighs, squeeze them. he has made it his daily routine to have his special- what he calls after work out protein from you every morning. you slowly spread your legs for him to crawl in, he didn't have to remove any clothes from your gorgeous body- because you were already bared and naked for him. only wearing a shirt- his shirt since nanami made it clear that he doesn't like his food to be enveloped.

nanami has always had a quite liking to your breast- he always manage to give them extra attention no matter where you are or what you are doing.

he says it restore his energy- especially after a long exhausting day at work, as soon as he opens the door of the apartment you both share- he walks straight to where you are cooking dinner at the kitchen, he gently lifts you up, and place you on the counter- you just sit there running your finger tips through his hair smoothing it out. he lifts whatever shirt you're wearing and immediately lash into your nipples letting out a groan as if he was a starved man and your nipples was his first meal.

nanami might be your sweet boyfriend. but deep inside you knew there's a side- maybe sides of him, he doesn't wanna show you. after all you have only been together for a few months.

at first you never questioned that. you never questioned the sweetness of your boyfriend. you never questioned the gentleness of your boyfriend.

you wake up at 4am as always but this time- it wasn't because of your boyfriend. it was because of the intense pain you're feeling in your belly- of course it's your period cramps. you groan and burry your head into your pillow-to in pain to notice that nanami has already made his way towards you- crawling into the bed ready to take his protein.

he gently rub your feets giving you a hint to spread your legs- and let him lap on your sweet pink pussy.

"not today nanami, im on my period" you tiredly mumble, to exhaust.

nanami raise an eyebrow up.

"and? i don't mind licking your blood soaked pussy- it's still a natural fluid, coming from your little pussy that I wanna drink on".

he horsely say- clearly indicating that he also just woke up a couple minutes ago.

"ew no nanami that's gross" you say pushing

his hands away with your feets- little did you know that this action activated a side of nanami that you have never experienced.

"so you're denying me from having my pussy?" nanami says through clenched teeth, clearly not happy that you denied him what's his.

you frown caught of guard by the tone of his voice- you have never seen nanami mad or displeased at you before. he's always so gentle and understanding about everything when it comes to you.

you hold your face up from your pillow taking a look at him- standing at the edge of the bed with a blank expression on his face that you can't seem to read.

"I asked you a question y/n. are you denying me from what's mine?" he says sternly as if the next thing you say might be the death of you.

yet you still playfully roll your eyes at him and bring your face back into your pillow mumbling a "it's my pussy, not yours"

it goes silent for a moment you assumed that your boyfriend went to the bathroom to get ready for his work- but oh you were dead wrong.

you let out a gasp as you feel a strong hand firmly hold your hair, pulling your face out the pillow- it wasn't strong enough to hurt but it was sure enough to sting.

your head was turned around to face no one other then nanamis face.

"nanami-" you were cut off by your boyfriend tsking at you.

"I see now what it is- do I have to teach my little baby a lesson? make sure she knows that this pussy is very much mine?".

you stare at him utterly confused- scared because that's completely off for nanami.

"i-" again you were cut off by him shushing you while bringing your face closer to his by your hair.

"you don't utter a word out of this pretty mouth of yours if you don't want daddy getting more mad at you baby".

for some reason the insanity in his face make your pussy throb- you have never thought you would see nanami this way- viens popping out of his hands and neck, hair slightly messy, while his scary-angry eyes are staring at you like they wanna devour you.

you were used to nanami soft gaze at you but this- this was completely new. you were snapped back to him when you felt an aggressive pull at your hair that made you groan out.

"do you understand?" nanami spit out, you node eagerly clenching your thighs together-turned on by whatever is happening right now.

and nanami seems to notice that.

"aw my little baby's pussy is needy for me?" he aws at your pussy as if he's speaking to a baby- he realise your hair out of his grip and instead he holds both of your legs into his shoulder-holding your lower half body up in the air close to his face.

your shirt goes down from gravity exposing you fully- you're basically naked right now in front of his hungry eyes. pussy and ass so close to his face you can feel his warm breath against your pussy.

he groans out as he slowly pulls out your tampon and throw it into the trashcan next to your bed- your mind is to hazy and drung off pleasure to even care about what he just did.

you can feel his hand trailing up your stomach till it reachs your breast and he tugs hard on your nipple ripping a moan out of you- you arch your pussy into his face desperate for something- anything.

he trails his nose up to your pussy down to your ass sniffing everywhere- claiming what's his-then he lashes into your pussy his tongue is restless. lapping at every bit of you- to much to much you think. you couldn't help letting out a sniffle from how sensitive you're because of your period.

"is my baby sensitive?" he groans out trailing his tongue to your ass- as his eyes role behind his head.

you throw your head back and moan out at the ceiling-clearly to much for you to even form a sentence.

"mhm it's okay. daddy is gonna make you coat his cock with your blood and juice first before letting you cum" he says as he free his cock out, stroaking it hard as he lean in-

"open your mouth for me baby" he whispers and you obey without hesitation.

nanami purse his lips and spit in your mouth, warm, wet spit hit your tongue and you swallow it all- nanami let out a whimper at the sight clearly going insane over this.

he slowly line up his cock on your puffy pink pussy, sliding in so fast. so hard. your pussy immediately squeeze around his dick like you're tryna strangel him. nanami couldn't help taking your little suck-covered feets close to his face and groan out into them. the little gasps and mewls that escape your puffy lips make nanamis mouth dry. He begins fucking his hips up.

nanami curses, head tipping back, Every little curl and twitch of your toes, every feel of your curved arch has him dizzy with need. He feels his blood hot beneath his skin, abdomen tightening with an overwhelming lust.

"fuck," he growls, fucking you sloppy and he almost can't recognize himself. It's exhilarating.

"faster, baby, shit-faster. I'm almost there, just a bit—nngh—a bit more."

his words come out in heavy pants, but you rapidly nod along like his perfect girl. You squeeze around his dick as you cum,eyes rolling and he just watches himself slide in you, cursing and grunting until the tension that's built inside of him completely snaps, he pulls out and he comes with a long moan. his come spurts up, more than usual and landing on your toes and top of your feet.

nanami thinks he blacks out for a few seconds.

"nanami" you suddenly breath out, making him to open his eyes just for them to turn dark as he watchs you slowly swiping your finger on your cum covered socks- covered with his cum, before you place it inside of your mouth, so sweetly sucking it, nanami groans, his cock is already hard again, ready to splash you with his cum again.

and suddenly he has the urge to suck his juices off from your sock. So he does. lightly grasping your ankle, kento ignores your little yelp as he licks from the bottom of your foot to your toes. your sock is soft against his tongue, pressed so close to your skin, and then kento tastes his own come. moaning, he takes your toes into his mouth, sucking the small digits and pressing the tip of his tongue in between.

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tonycries · 11 months ago

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BODY-ODY!

Synopsis. Jujutsu powers aren’t used just in fights…sometimes they’re there to make you absolutely lose your mind.

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

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu techniques, INSANE Gojo, breéding, heats (Choso), spítting, cúmplay, marathon séx, slight jealousy (Toji), creampíe, canon Sukuna lactatíon, FÉRAL boys, ratio technique, limitless, extremely neédy Choso, exhíbitionísm (Geto’s), pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.6k

A/N. Hope y’all have a wonderful new week, I’m eepy so I will eep <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - The p*ssy killer!

With Toji’s strength, it was inevitable that he’d break seven bed frames, three couches, and four desks. Unapologetically.

And with the way he had you like this - splayed out like such a slut on your drenched silken sheets, swollen cock pistoning in and out of your sloppy cunt so easily in that mean mating press he had you folded in - you knew he was well and fully intent on adding to that list.

“Toji-” you’re gasping over the protesting creaks of the mattress. “S’gonna…”

“S’gonna what, woman?” he rasps out, bringing his ears millimeters away from your pouty mouth. Not even stuttering, smooth taunts falling from his lips each time he bullies his fat length into you. “Can’t hear you over this- damn- bed-”

Another wrecked snap! of wood nearby makes you squeal urgently, clawing for mercy at Toji’s toned hips, “-break! S’gonna break!”

Dark brows furrow in sultry concentration, that tiny scar on Toji’s lips quirking up in a devilish taunt when he gifts another harsh glide of his fat tip against your honeyed g-spot. “Damn right m’gonna break you.”

You don’t get the chance to correct him - you didn’t even need to, because he knew what you meant. He knew. But it was just so fun to shut up those cute lil’ whines of yours. Wrapping two big arms around your thighs to hike them higher up his muscled shoulders, Toji chuckles when you get even more soaked at the feeling of his abs flexing against your skin.

“Heh…s’bad manners to lie, y’know.” Shivers run down your spine at his sweet little scold, only making his grin grow wider. “Ya like bein’ thrown around me like this? Pretending to care about some- fuckin’ bed when all you really want is f’me to ruin this cunt?”

He’s speaking with such confidence - bleeding out from his grunts and churning into each hurried, jagged rut of his cock against your gummy cunt. Using that inhuman strength from his heavenly restriction to maneuver your hips and figure out which angle has you making the sweetest noises.

You narrow your eyes to meet his glassy one, “M’serious, th-the manager at the ngh- furniture store was concerned last time.”

This earns you a soft smack! right on your sopping slit, Tojis rough palm feeling over the bulge of his massive cock, the hole you were milking him with. Forming a glossy, possessive sheen down his wrist. “You dare talk about another man while m’fucking you like this, doll?”

And, honestly, that desperate wobble of your lips almost makes him feel bad for the way he’s teasing you. Almost makes him wanna cave in and fuck you slow and sensual to save both you and this bed you both had picked out only weeks prior.

Almost.

That is until you open your pretty mouth to snap, the words babbling out delirious and bratty. “Well maybe he wouldn’t make me hngh- b-buy a new bed every month.”

Oh.

That does it.

You keen when his movements come to a torturous standstill, painfully hard cock stretching out your plush walls to every ridge and curve down his cock. And you can’t help the way your pussy pulses at the low, visceral growl tearing from your boyfriend’s mouth.

Teeth bared, back muscles flexing as he raises his head up, up, up-

SLAM!

In a split-second, one of Toji’s arms had come down to bang against the already-rickety headboard. Letting a few sluggish seconds of his absolutely animalistic gaze devour you from your dazed, widened eyes to the snug cunt that was sucking the soul out of him - before the bed frame sags on one end with a defeated groan.

“Whoops.” his words come out in a feverish grunt, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown. “Don’t worry, m’paying tomorrow when we buy a new bed, n’ I can ah- help this manager find you a new one.” A promise - an apology for later.

Still stuffed so deep inside you, he’s securing one arm around you, easily holding you snug against his toned body when Toji gets off the bed - with you hanging onto him in tow. Choking out a gruff, “But for now…”

“F-fuck you’re so deep-” your jaw slacks open to moan sluttily into Toji’s toned pecs, gravity making his greedy thick head slide in so deep to nudge at your cervix. Filling up every nook and crevice of your sweet spots. Molding your cunt to the shape of him.

And the only response you get is a few sultry, lingering thrusts. His eyes only darting his hazy gaze around the room- shit, where was that desk again? Right, he’d broken it last week. And the loveseat- Ah, that was just last movie night.

Well, with a low rumble vibrating from his chest, that’s all it takes for you to be spread so shamefully on the bedroom floor.

Toji’s pushing your face to the cool hardwood, a toned thigh stopping your needy bucking hips, the other keeping your legs open for him to bully back into your hypnotic cunt. Sloppy. Going right for that rhythm from before.

“Better cum before I break the floor too, huh?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - BULLSEYE

“Ken~”

“No.”

“...p-please?”

“Nope.”

It’s been like this for far too long now - with you bent over your husband’s home office desk, being absolutely pounded into the various work documents he really should’ve been focusing on instead.

Of course, there was the speckled yellow tie currently digging into your wrists, pinning them both behind you uselessly as if you were some elaborate sex doll for Nanami to plunge his achy cock into. Though, that seemed to be exactly what he was doing.

And he was holding back.

“B-but Ken–” you’re letting out a thick, sultry whine of his name. Teary lashes batting back at the towering man, “I promise I won’t run away this time.”

His response comes out as a rough grunt, “That was what you hah- said last time before it got too good.” A large hand coming up to thread between your tangled wrists, using the leverage to pull you back onto Nanami’s unforgiving ruts of his length. “And the time before that.” Spearing you about halfway along his swollen cock, he’s splitting your poor pussy open. “And the time before that. And right now.”

As if to test your little resolve, his free hand comes down to kiss your ass with a deliciously resounding smack!

And he’s only humming in satisfaction with your absolute mess of a less-than-composed response. A low gurgle of Nanami’s name in your throat, legs trembling when they fuck down onto his thick cock. Down and up as much as you could, stuttering as if to run away from the burn.

“Shhh shhh, s’okay, my love. You got it.” he’s hushing your moaning cries, soft palm coming to soothe the sting - and the inevitable handprint. “Jus’ like I said- how are ya gonna handle the ratio technique if you can’t handle that?”

“I will.” Is your stubborn response - as expected.

But to your surprise, your husband only grins, “Thought so.” Using the tie to pull your cunt back to grind deeper against him, “How about this, darling-” Nanami propositions, hips halting down to slow, shallow circles around your gummy walls. Swiping at the sweet spots he hits effortlessly, he whispers. Low and just aching for the type of trouble you always get him into, “-try not to run away before you cum this time n’ I might consider taking off these for the next round.”

And then, there’s a sudden shift in the air. It suddenly becomes thicker, almost suffocating. You wince at the sudden feeling of atoms around you standing at rapt attention - before that expression is quickly morphing into one of such bliss when Nanami’s fat head slams straight into your g-spot.

Lingering, nudging against your sensitive spot just before it becomes too much before he’s reeling his hips back to do it again. And again. And again and again and-

“Ken ohhh fuck- oh my god-” you’re going cross-eyed, drool dripping down your mouth with how fucking good it felt. That divot at the gummy tip of his cock branding onto your bundle of nerves. “F-forgot how much I love your technique.”

“Oh, I know.” you can hear the grin in his voice over the crackle of jujutsu. Tugging harder on the restraints at your wrists, “Anything for my wife, after all.”

“Then would you hah- ngh- untie me so that I can touch my lovely husband?”

This earns you another gifted smack! to your ass, and an even harder jam of his thorough cock pistoned right at your magical spot. “Not a chance.” He’s absolutely ruining you from the inside out, and you feel like you’re melting with each expert graze of his veins against your honeypot of sweet spots - not missing even a single one.

Your ass is recoiling against Nanami’s sharp hip bones now, leaving a faint heart-shaped print on his hardened abs. Tufts of blond tickling your searing skin, twitching balls slapping against your forgotten clit.

“F-fuck.” your voice wobbles when his scarily accurate aim is making your ravaged cunt cry out in lewd squelches. Drowning out the strain in your voice when you whimper, “That all you got, Ken?”

“Perhaps.” he huffs slyly against your ear, still pulling back on your restraints. “It’s real a wonder you’re not hah- runnin’ away, yet. Aren’t ya close?”

It wasn’t a question he needed to ask - Nanami could feel the way your slick walls were channeling around him, massaging and convulsing depravedly with each plunge. So fucking wet it was forming a lewd little puddle down to his heavy balls.

So ready.

So near.

“I-I am.” you admit, gingerly shoving back onto his mean cock as much as you could. Somehow, every minute movement hitting at your weak spots, leaving stars behind your lids.

Oh how you wanted to buck away - the feeling too good that you wanted to run. Nails digging sharp grooves into the expensive wooden desk, knees weakening pathetically. Honestly, it was a wonder you weren’t falling on sorry legs on the floor right now - it wasn’t, because if you were in any better state of mind you’d have registered Nanami’s strong arm under your stomach, holding your entire weight up easily.

“Then cum.” he grits out, absolute need lacing his tone. “Cum f’me - and don’t run away, my love.”

So you do - and you couldn’t run away even if you wanted to. Because he’s securing a vice-like grip on his tie, holding your back flush against the sweaty panes of his muscled torso. Legs unable to move anywhere but back into him as Nanami fucked you through your high.

Nanami groans at the feeling of you cumming all over his achingly hard cock. Squeezing and trying to milk out the fucking life of him. “Hah…how gorgeous f’me.” He kisses away those tears of overstimulation rolling down your face, though, he’s still nudging against your bruised sweet spots inside. “Now, s’time for you to hold up that bargain, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “T-the cult leader?”

That cute, wide-eyed little question of yours makes the gorgeous man in front of you chuckle. A deep, slow baritone that sends shivers right down to where he had you sat on the outline of his thick, straining erection.

“Of course I am.” he purrs against the shell of your ear, shuffling you around so the drenched excuse of your panties was making a mess on the damp spot at his leaky tip. “What about it?”

“Well then why-” you look over your shoulder at the rows upon rows of Geto’s cult members. Faces still, expressionless. Bowed at the waist to look at the floor - but still ever-present. Murmuring in confusion, “-why can’t you tell them to go?”

Another sultry smile. “Oh, gorgeous.” He swipes the tip of his fingers at your syrupy juices, promptly stuffing his mouth full of your heady taste. Moaning so hedonistically, “They’re here for you.”

And then Geto’s shuffling around the expensive robes of his yukata, having you bouncing precariously on his lap when he frees his achingly hot erection. So so red and angry.

It’s all you can do to bite back your embarrassment when he’s dragging your sloppy cunt all over that veined length of his. Jolting when a hand of his smushes your cheeks together in a pathetic pout, “Look at me.” he muses, dark dangerous eyes boring into yours. “They’re your welcoming party, after all. Don’t worry, you’re only mine to see n’-” Pecking at your lips in an innocently languid kiss, “-I’ll kill them if they look.”

Right as he says this, Geto’s slipping his fat head past your sopping slit, such a sinful expression of ecstasy taking over his delicate features at the first taste of your heavenly cunt.

“O-ohhh fuck.” he groans, hips coming up in bullying little thrusts to lodge himself inside. “Mmpf- my girl’s cunt feels s’fuckin’ good. How the fuck do you feel this good?”

You’re panting at the sheer stretch - the feeling of your puckering hole being split apart so blatantly - and for hundreds of others to see. Candied lips coming up to graze his in a messy clash, “My girl?”

Ah, just hearing those words echoed back to him has Geto thrusting up mindlessly into your plushy walls. A hand coming back to circle around your clit pooling your juices back on his addicted fingers.

“Yes-” his long tongue darts out to catch those drops of your slick. Before diving back in again- and again and- “My girl. My pussy. And every one of these little worthless pigs are going to know that now.”

You could practically feel the wave of shudders that run through your audience. But a quick glimpse back showed that they all stayed firmly rooted to their spot, eyes trained on the luxurious carpet of Geto’s hideout. Whereas you were shivering for a whole other reason - because Geto’s lengthy fingers are back to toying with your poor cunt.

Two of them spreading out your puffy pussy lips to show off how greedy you were being - the way your dripping cunt couldn’t do anything but milk Geto Suguru for each and every one of his delicious inches. Taking him so well as he pounded up lazily into you, making the fat of your ass jiggle with each calculated pump.

It’s so filthy - so agonizing.

He noses up your racing pulse, “Heh, I can tell ya liked that, pretty. You just go so much wetter, almost drippin’ onto the floor.” You weren’t - yet, simply forming a glossy mess of slick all over the cult leader’s distinctive robes. “So sloppy I bet they’ll see soon.”

“But you said-” you’re choking when a particularly hard thrust has you clinging onto his broad shoulders for stability. Fingernails blemishing his worshiped skin with red, raw marks gifted from you. “-said m’only yours to see.”

Oh, how he knew you’d be fucking fun.

There’s an almost reverent pitch in Geto’s throaty rasp, “You’re right.” As if seeing you for the first time - and he’s just ramming into you with a greedy grin. “So fuckin’ right.”

Geto’s dick is so girthy that it fills out every crevice inside your pussy that you didn’t even know existed. Balls a rightfully sinful side of heavy that made a loud smack! ripple throughout the otherwise deathly quiet room.

“You’re mine.” he whispers, strained like he was losing a bit of his sanity with each press up against your spongy cervix. “N’ I should fuck you like you are.” Which had Geto teething down your jaw, your earlobe - sharp canines digging hard when he bites down at the crook of your neck. Enough to draw blood, to break skin, to have you screaming out for- mercy? More? But he’s already plowing on, “N’ everyone here will accept it.”

He lets out such a lovely moan in tandem with yours, head thrown back when his thrusts get untimed. Sloppy. Glistening with need and slick as you mewl, “S-Sugu m’close m’gonna cum-”

Bang!

You whirl your head up to see Geto with his free hand held out, eyes wide, crazed - glaring intensely at something over your shoulder. Something you don’t get to see, because he’d tilting your head back to his in a romantic gesture.

“Told you I’d kill them if they looked.” He breathes, over the distinct growling of his rainbow dragon. Kissing gently at your lips, the tip of his fat cock colliding into your g-spot. “Now, where were we?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Like an animal

There was something that no one in the jujutsu world spoke about the most advanced curses - something hidden. Something dirty. Something that had you crying out where you straddled Choso’s fat cock, big bulbous tears rolling down your cheeks, throat shot when he was stuffing your poor pussy full of his fifth orgasm this rut.

“Please oh- please.” Choso whines, hips stuttering up into your gummy depths. Strong arms circling your waist to hold you still while his fat head paints your walls white with thick streams of his seed, “Take it- fuck fuck fuck jus’ take it for me.”

Each sloppy half-thrust is all he can manage to drag you through your own climax, lips falling into a soft oh! at the dredges of your sweet sweet juices slobbering down his shaft.

“Baby…” Choso starts, greedy eyes just devouring that sinfully creamy ring now forming around his soaked hilt. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, voice cracking at the end, “I think-”

And you know that tone. You know what it bodes for your sensitive cunt. Reminded that it’s currently that time of year for your poor curse boyfriend. When something dark, and primal pokes its head out. Aching to touch you, to breed you - killing him to make you his.

So you’re gasping out in disbelief, “Cho- what! Again?” Scrambling to perch your hands on his pecs and sit up, “The heat’s still not done?”

You don’t get very far - because he pulls you back onto his body with a possessive tug. Looking up at you with big, teary eyes, “No.”

His syrupy words are coated in desperation, a few octaves higher than normal as he murmurs against your open lips. “N’ it’s a rut, baby. All m’gonna wan’ ngh- do is fuck this cute pussy.” he coos, a slick-glossed fist dipping down to squeeze out the last few beads of cum out of his base and into your overspilling cunt. “Don’t think I’ll ever be done- not until she’s properly bred. Not until- fuck m’not gonna- get out of this alive.”

As if he hadn’t just wrangled out another overstimulated high, Choso’s bucking his hips up sloppily into yours. Toned back arching off of the cotton sheets - soaked and absolutely ruined with pools of your sin.

Over and over and-

“But Cho–” you babble out when his girth is thrashing back at those sensitive areas inside that he’s mapped out so many times before this. “I think I’m not gettin’ out of ngh- this alive.”

In his barely-lucid state, Choso’s taking this as a compliment, flashing a crooked, pussydrunk grin up at you. Face flushed a pretty pink, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead when he bats his heavy lashes, “Mhm.”

Then he takes the opportunity when your lips fall slack in shock at his response to plant a steady stream of his spit. Missing purposefully to thumb away the splattered sheen of him along the corner of your swollen lips. “N’ you hah- not going out until g-get this cute pussy pregnant, m’kay?”

The notion is so dizzying that for a moment you don’t believe him. He doesn’t wait for your response - doesn’t have to.

Back to his mind-numbing addiction of spearing your heavenly pussy on his angry cock. Like he couldn’t stop himself.

Again. And again. And again and again.

And he thinks you look so pretty like this - steady gushes of his cum dribbling down your shamefully spread puffy folds, thighs pathetically shaky trying to keep up with his frenzied tempo.

A whiny ah! ah! ah! leaves your mouth with each kiss against your ravaged g-spot.

“Cho- I don’t think- ngh I can cum again-” your heavy lips part open to moan. Feeling so raw everywhere. “Are you really gonna-”

“Say it.” he begs. Two hands of his coming up to knead your sensitive tits, running his thumbs in awe over your puffy nipples. “Say it- say it please-” He’s attaching his pretty pink lips around one, cheeks hollowing while he sucks as if trying to draw out something delicious. “Please, ma.”

Fuck - you don’t know what you’re getting wetter at - the lil’ nickname or the way Choso’s dancing a hand down to draw sultry, purposeful circles. Syrupy slick saturating all over his toned pelvis with each ram of his hips.

You’re keening, “Are you fuuuuck jus’ like that- are you really gonna fuck a baby into me? Or die trying?”

“Let’s see…” he lets out a low drawl, quieting down to let your obscene squelches take over. Music to his ears, drunk off of every sound with every harsh piston of his hips. Loud. He gives your clit a hard pinch, grinning, “Yeah. My girl’s pretty cunt says I can.”

It only takes a few more hard crashes of his thick head against your sweet spots before you’re clawing at the headboard, the sheets, him - just anything to hold onto an ounce of your sanity while you’re cumming and cumming and cumming so hard you can’t stop. Wave after wave of your high being dragged out of you.

And if you couldn’t stop - then Choso wouldn’t. Whispering praises slurring together and sticking against your mouth as he spills his potent seed into you once more.

Wispy strings filling all the way at the back of your pussy while he fucks you through your high. Milking himself on you like some cocksleeve - addicted. Needing to breed you.

Which is why, when his spotty vision catches a trickle of his own seed out of your bloated pussy, Choso’s clicking his tongue. Thumbing your swollen folds further apart, he gives your clit a slow rub to wake up your droopy eyes. “Rut’s not over yet, ma.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Got milk?

“Tch. Stubborn lil’ thing.” the king of curses lets out a proud noise of disagreement - but you catch that tint of red on his high cheekbones, the way his swollen tip twitches wildly against your gummy walls. “S’not gonna work.”

The only response he gets is a cooing hum, your fingers dancing over Sukuna’s pecs to squeeze and grope at the curve of muscle.

So hypnotized with what you’re doing, it’s almost embarrassing for him. And all he can do is tighten the greedy grip he has on the fat of your ass, sliding your sopping cunt down, down, down until your throbbing clit scratches against those tufts of pink. Sitting so prettily on his throne.

At the site of your lewd entrancement, Sukuna scoffs in frustration, “I told you, brat. I don’t know if you’re already fucked dumb on my cock but- ngh–”

And oh the great Ryomen Sukuna whines - he whines, such a pretty noise that makes your elastic walls tighten around his rock-hard shaft. Rutting up deeper into your pussy so mindlessly mean when you wrap your pretty lips around one of his puffy nipples.

“I know what you said, Kuna.” your voice sends vibrations all the way down to his needy cock. Leaky and angry where he was dragging inside your cunt. “But I also know what I heard.” Sucking. Harsh. “And a little birdie told me that someone can make milk-”

“Fuckin’ Uraume.” Sukuna spits, hips picking up the pace now that he has the answer he’s looking for. Long fingernails leaving neat little marks on your skin, “N’ you seriously believed that shit?”

And then he’s making your back arch more, kicking out your thighs even further to spread over the stretch of his girth. Fucking deeper and deeper until he was sure he was massaging at every inch of your walls.

Managing through pure hissy rage to punctuate each ram of his shaft with threats, “Don’t believe that fuckin’ rumor I swear I’ll kill-” The words die in Sukuna’s chest when he’s snapping his pussydrunk head down at you - the same chest you were still pawing greedily at. “Oi, what did I tell ya?”

When you don’t make a move to remove yourself, he’s dancing a hand down to toy with your neglected clit. Forcing your dazed mouth to pull away.

“I-I don’t know, Kuna.” you purr, still gasping for air. “Because-” You roll his raw nipples between your fingers again - desperate. Making him hiss. Glassy eyes snapping down to the way he was fucking you so filthy now. “-you seem to love this.”

And he can’t deny it - can’t make up any excuse for the way he was bouncing you along his fat veiny length like some cocksleeve. Pussy lips kissing him tenderly, thick head gliding across your cervix. Sinking into your drenched cunt so desperate.

Yet, he grits out, “Won’t work.”

“Will.” you smirk, still teasing his pecs the exact same way he’d do with your tits.

“Won’t.”

“Wi- hah-” your words are being gulped down by Sukuna’s sharp canines nipping on your lips. Drinking in your heady moans with every bullying thrust into your walls. Soft pads of his fingers thumbing at your clit, your puffy folds, pushing himself deeper and deeper. “You’re so unfair-”

That drags out a ragged grin from him, the wet smack of skin-on-skin music to his ears at this point. He’s wiping away the excess drool on your lips from your antics, “Maybe you’re just too gullible. So why don’t you hah- put that pretty mouth instead to-”

And then it happens.

Your cockdrunk eyes manage to focus on that tiny, beading pearl of white at the very tip of Sukuna’s mouthwatering nipples. Without a second thought, you surge forwards, reattaching your lips with his ravaged skin.

“O-oh fuck-” he shudders, fingers stuttering where they were drawing obscene circles on your clit. “Wait fuck oh- fuck fuck fuck, brat.”

That’s all it takes for him to cum. Balls squeezing so fucking painfully as Sukuna cums harder than he has in the thousands of years on this Earth. Mashing his cock into you, drawing out every lengthy spurt of his seed to paint your cunt white.

“Take it-” You don’t know if he’s talking about his cum or his milk. “Fuckin’ take if you want it so bad.”

Each shrill profanity has him reaching deep into your gummy core, bowing his body further to your greedy mouth. The sobbing wet smacks of your lips having him humping you fast. Messy.

And shit anyone would faint if they saw the infamous king of curses like this - if he didn’t kill them first, that is.

You, however, his favorite lil’ human, was having the time of your life. Thick globs of cum smearing down your thigh, forming a slippery coating where you were sucking him through his high. Sukuna’s sweet sweet milk treacles down your lips, rich and syrupy. So much that it was spilling down onto lewd little puddles on the curve of your tits.

“Oi, fuck you greedy little slut.” Sukuna coos at your ravenous pursuit, the way you were pinching at his pecs for more. “Don’t waste- ngh- any of it.”

And upon seeing that grin of yours - that devilishly smug, white-glossed smirk - Sukuna all but forces your lips to crash against his. Hips fucking up menacing - still so pointedly hard, while he tastes himself. “Don’t think m’not gonna make you pay back tenfold for this embarrassment, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Sanity? Optional.

You wondered just how high the kill count would be.

In the hundreds? No, you fear, when your boyfriend slams your apartment door open, eyes hooded, glowing. Barely getting a word out before he’s pouncing on you like a wolf starved, ripping off that useless excuse of shorts with only two fingers.

In the thousands? Probably not, you think, when he doesn’t waste a moment before shoving the entirety of his angry, leaking shaft into your sloppy hole. The only apology you’re getting for the moment being a few praises and whispers of “buying a new pair of shorts for you.”

In the hundreds of thousands? Maybe, you muse, when immediately Gojo is smearing his fat tip against your cervix. Sinking his way into your heavenly pussy to wreak havoc on you where he could be going out of control and destroying a few cities.

“Nah, millions.” His slow, sensual purr is ringing in your ears, and you have half the mind to wonder whether Gojo had a mind-reading technique, too. Greedy lips dragging up to mouth over your thumping pulse. Dangerous. “Might just take out hah- this whole fuckin’ city if it wasn’t for this ngh- sweet pussy hypnotizing me.”

Each and every babble falling from Gojo’s candied pink lips are followed by some of the meanest thrusts. Having his tight balls smack against your ass, running his mouth as mindlessly as he’s fucking you into the living room couch he happened to find you in.

You’re gasping when his long fingers come down to give your poor clit a buzzing tap! Sending sparks with the very dredges of his jujutsu.

“T-Toru what happened?” you’re managing to gasp out, your ears popping at the pressure of the air around your two. “Why are you so-”

“Feral? Out of control? Maniacal?” he fires off, a devilish grin spreading with each suggestion. Eyes wide, tinged with an electric glow, voice breaking desperately as he plows on, “Absolutely fucking losing it?”

If either of you were in a better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the way that lamp on the edge of the coffee table exploded. Shards of glass flinging across the room and stopping short where Gojo had limitless poring over the two of you.

“Well, you see…” he’s humming so sing-song, large hands coming up to wrangle your thighs onto his broad shoulders. Gnawing down on his worried bottom lip when he’s trying to squeeze himself impossibly deeper inside you, “-I had a bad day.”

“That’s it!?”

Those startled words are bursting from your lips without any thought. And they have Gojo narrowing his eyes at you like a predator cornering his prey, teasing grin curling down into something almost garish.

He hikes a muscled thigh up, fingers tightening around the plush of your thighs. “Yes, that’s it.”

It’s quiet - barely audible, even - followed by a low thrust that reaches you all the way in the bottom of your pussy. Somehow bruising - Gojo’s fat tip clashing against your g-spot, your cervix, so hard it makes a broken whimper drag from your shot throat.

And this seems to jolt him back to his senses somewhat, that furiously depraved glint flickering in his summer blue eyes. “Oh, sweetheart.” he sighs, crashing his lips against yours in a sloppy mess of teeth and spit. “Couldn’t stop hngh- thinkin’ about you all day. Couldn’t stop wanting- needing-”

He’s cutting himself off with a pained groan, back to having the soft pads of his fingers roll over your clit in humming, sultry circles. Little buzzes of his electricity going right through your veins. “Fuck, s’all I thought of even when- hah- fighting. Just you, my girl, waiting at home f’me to stuff you full of my cock.”

Sloppier. Incessant - just milking himself on the dripping channel of your cunt. Deep, lingering thrusts that have you missing him every time he’s reeling back. A few stuttering pops of bones have you spitting out slobbering little pleas into Gojo’s panting mouth, gummy walls sucking him in so good. Clamping down until it was almost difficult for him to ram into your greedy pussy.

Honestly, whatever shreds of your rationality wondered how the fuck you two were still unharmed, still having no bones broken - it was because of his reverse curse technique, you later learn.

But for now all that was going through your honeyed, oversaturated mind was how full you were of him and only him - until you could barely even breathe-

“Hey hey now.” His words a smooth coo, not betrayed just how ragged his hips were. Another few smacks of his ruthless fingers right down your sopping slit have you wrenching your eyes back up at him. Your poor clit getting caught in the crossfire, leaving lewd smears glistening all over Gojo’s palm. The overhead lights flicker, illuminating little blue specks of lightning as he kisses gently on your forehead, “F-fuck- keep up, pretty.”

Somehow, you manage to gasp, “Keep up?”

“Mhm, because m’not fuckin’ done until I pass out.”

The words are pushing you over the edge, and before you know it, your velvety walls are squeezing around Gojo’s engorged cock so tight. So heavenly as he fucks you through your high - not even bothering to ease you into it, he couldn’t.

And it only takes a few silky whines of his name out of your mouth before he’s beading out pearly white spurts of cum. Overspilling into the snug channel of your pussy, thick seed gushing out as Gojo shoves it deeper and deeper to decorate your walls. His snowy brows knit together when he cums and cums so fucking hard it’s like something bursts.

And something did - every single lightbulb within a fifteen mile radius of your apartment.

But you don’t notice, too caught up in Gojo’s syrupy sweet hum, “Well, m’not passed out yet n’ since the electricity’s gone I guess there’s only one thing to do, huh~”

A/N. LMFAOOO Toji acting like he can afford to buy another bed smh. Also the way Sukuna being able to lactate is canon?? Gege you hoe.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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