#and now he's the most wet and pathetic of them all

[insociometry]

"Ready Or Not" Minho POV, chapter 31

Drabble of Minho missing your calls. ~1k words.

Minho leaves the studio, checks his phone, gets in the car, checks his phone, comes home, checks his phone, eats, checks his phone, lies down on Jisung’s bed with his face in his packmate’s pillow, checks his phone, falls asleep for an hour, and checks his phone.

When Jisung walks through the door, he’s obviously not in the mood to hang out, eyes flicking to where Minho’s spread out on his bed with that tense, jittery lightning-burn to his scent: get out of the way; a storm is coming, and you’re the easiest target. So Minho gets up, fake-stretching to keep some semblance of normalcy, and sees himself out before Jisung can even finish getting his hoodie off.

He goes to the kitchen and checks his phone. Drinks water and checks his phone. Thinks about sending you another text, even though you’d never even read the last — Call me, he’d said, and then, a minute later, Please.

He hates the feeling of you being upset with him. He hates not knowing where you are and what you’re doing, not getting photo updates of your day, the silly little things that make your voice jolt up and your fingers tack extra exclamation marks onto your words: skylines and flowers and paw prints stamped wet on concrete; funny signs outside street stalls and children’s drawings on the subway wall, hastily scrubbed at by some desperate parent’s hand. Descriptions of things: overheard jokes, the smell of fresh bread, a story your friend had told you. Long, rambling thoughts about your classes that go way over his head, shifting into English like you don’t even think about it, like your thumb is always hovering over the ‘change keyboard’ button.

You didn’t used to look or listen; you’d told him yourself, during your first real conversation. He didn’t think too hard about it at the time; you’d never seemed like the most observant person, and there’s nothing wrong with just trying to get from one place to another, really. But you’ve been so much happier since you’ve started keeping your eyes open — and you’ve sent him more and more texts as a result, too, and more and more photos, letting him scroll through your scattered messages in between schedules like the morning paper.

But now you’re upset with him — with all of them, because they’re all at fault — and when he goes to check anyway, he finds your chat just as he left it, his own words staring back at him like an accusation.

Call me, he tells you, turned into an echo by his constant rereads, checking to see if you’ve opened it yet. Please.

Pathetic, he thinks, washing out his cup. He’s sure you’re being constantly inundated with messages from the others, anyway. He isn’t going to add to the burden of that, not knowing your disposition, not when a missed text from your roommate had made you wince when you were at his apartment months ago.

Still, his thumb lingers over the keyboard when he checks his messages again. Frustrated, he throws his phone on the couch, locks himself in the bathroom, and takes a shower so hot it makes his head spin.

He can’t be in there longer than ten minutes. In that time, he misses two of your calls.

It doesn’t even register at first. Minho blinks at the screen once, twice, three times, fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped around his neck, clothes half-on. Then, he scrambles.

You don’t pick up when he calls — so he tries again, then again. Holds off a while, pacing to Jisung’s room — then picks up that scent again in the hall that marks himself as a lightning rod and their apartment as an imminently burning field, and retreats. Calls you again — nothing. Opens your chat — nothing. Hovers over the keyboard, uncertain, before finally typing out the only things running through his head in an impulsive rush: What happened? Where are you? Are you okay?

No answer. Minho grabs a jacket and trades his house slippers for shoes, keys held tight in hand. Then he changes them back, pacing the living room, wet hair dripping onto his t-shirt.

Not for the first time, he wishes you had meant it when you asked if you should always share your location with him. Not for the first time, he wishes he’d said yes, that he’d said anything, instead of just watching the way your uneasy smile had slipped and stumbled on your face.

The pack is a mess; everyone is a mess. Half of them have been locking themselves away and the other half can’t stop pacing, and no one knows how to settle the feeling kicking at all of them: the protective, placating nature of an alpha turned shrill and piercing with nowhere to go, having failed to protect and failed to placate. Minho still feels like he can taste a wisp of your scent behind his teeth, not enough to satiate but just enough to drive him mad, echoing, Mate, mate, mate— But you aren’t his, and you aren’t here, and you won’t fucking call him back.

Minho goes for a drive just to settle the feeling. He finds himself on your street without even realizing how much time had passed, staring at any lit-up window and wondering if it’s you.

When he does snap back into the present, he all but lunges for his phone, so quickly he picks up his foot without meaning to, unparked car lurching. But even though some time has passed — his screen lights up, and there’s no answer.

He supposes he deserves this. He hadn’t wanted to go along with any of this but he’d done it anyway, and now he’s paying the price for his compliance. Still, he holds onto his phone like a lifeline, opening your chat just to stare at his own words all over again.

Call me, he thinks — rereading the message, living and breathing it, plucking at the bond and hoping you’ll hear. Please call me. Please.

[velvetghoul]

Beneath Him

✦ One-Shot

Reader x Naoya Zenin | 18+ MDNI

cw: smut, toxic dynamic, power play, rough sex, choking (consensual), degradation, brat taming, dom!Naoya, mean!Naoya, teasing, edging, slight hair pulling, possessiveness, hate-sex energy, semi-public risk, fingering, spitting, strong language

⸻

You hated him.

The way he talked down to you, like you were some helpless little thing that didn’t belong in the jujutsu world. The way he smirked every time you got assigned to the same mission—like it was some kind of twisted game he was winning.

But what you hated most… was that you let him talk to you like that. Because the second that voice dropped and he leaned in with that smug little tilt of his mouth—

Your thighs squeezed together like he owned them.

“You look tense,” Naoya drawled, walking in like he owned the damn room, not even glancing at you before he started pulling off his gloves, flexing his fingers slowly. “What’s the matter? Struggling with your cursed technique again?”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh?” He stepped in front of you, gaze dropping to your lips and then lower. “That mouth of yours gets filthier every day. You want me to wash it out for you?”

You didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

He chuckled. “Didn’t think so.”

And before you could call him a bastard again, Naoya pushed you back against the mission room table—fast, unforgiving—his mouth hot against your ear.

“You like this, don’t you?” he whispered, sliding one hand under your shirt. “Acting all tough when you’re dripping through your fucking panties the second I walk in.”

His palm covered your chest, rough fingers squeezing, rubbing slow circles that made your breath hitch.

“I should’ve known from the first day,” he muttered. “You looked at me like you hated me—and I knew right then you’d take me the hardest.”

“Naoya—”

He growled, cutting you off, lips crashing against yours, all teeth and dominance and spite. His tongue slid deep past your lips as he pinned you harder to the table, hand sneaking into your waistband and slipping straight beneath your underwear.

“So wet,” he muttered, smirking as you gasped into his mouth. “You’re lucky I don’t bend you over this table and fuck you in front of the entire clan. Let them see how their little rebel melts for the man she pretends to hate“

His fingers slid inside you, two at once—fast, deep, curling perfectly. You whined, grabbing his arm, but he didn’t slow. He curled them again, faster now, the slick sounds obscene as his thumb circled your clit mercilessly.

“Say it,” he said against your neck. “Tell me you need it.”

“I—fuck—I hate you—”

He grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You reached for his belt—he slapped your hand away. “You don’t get to touch me, slut. Not until you earn it.”

Your whole body jerked when he crooked his fingers again, curling into that devastating spot until your knees gave. He caught you easily, holding you up with a hand on your throat now, his palm squeezing just enough to make your head buzz.

“You’re gonna come,” he growled, biting the edge of your jaw. “On my fingers. Like the pathetic brat you are. And when you do—you’re gonna thank me.”

You could barely speak—but your hips bucked into his hand, chasing it, breaking.

And when it hit—white-hot and toe-curling—you gasped his name, louder than you should have, legs shaking as you fell apart for him.

Naoya leaned in, licking the corner of your mouth.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

Then he shoved his soaked fingers into your mouth, watching you with that smug, hungry look as you sucked them clean.

“You taste like someone who’s about to beg me to fuck her.”

And honestly?

He wasn’t wrong.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he grabbed your arm, yanked you off the table, and dragged you down the hallway of the compound like he couldn’t wait another fucking second.

“Walk faster,” he snapped, tightening his grip. “Unless you want someone to see you with your thighs still shaking.”

You glared at him. “Why? Embarrassed to be caught with me?”

He shoved you against the nearest wall, hand slamming beside your head.

“No. I’d love for them to see,” he whispered, eyes dark with heat and venom. “See how pretty your face looks when I fuck you full.”

He kissed you again—if you could call it that. All teeth and spit and tongue, biting your lip hard enough to taste blood. You moaned into it anyway.

Naoya practically kicked his bedroom door open. The second it slammed shut, you were on your back on the bed—his body on top of yours, his knee forcing your legs apart as he undid his belt with one hand.

“Take your shirt off,” he said. “Slow.”

You didn’t move fast enough—so he grabbed the hem and ripped it himself, tearing it in half with one violent tug, the sound sharp and cruel like the look in his eyes.

“Fucking brat,” he hissed, eyes dropping to your chest. “You really like testing me, don’t you?”

“I like pissing you off.”

He smirked as he shoved your legs wide apart, dragging your underwear down roughly. “Then you’re gonna love what happens next.”

He didn’t ease in. No teasing. No warning.

Just one brutal thrust—and you gasped, your back arching, his cock burying itself deep, thick and hard and stretching you to your limit.

“Shit—fuck, Naoya—”

“I told you,” he growled, snapping his hips into yours again, and again, pace already brutal. “Told you you’d take me the hardest.”

Your hands clawed at his back—he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, using the other to hold your jaw in place.

“You look so good like this,” he whispered, voice like gravel. “Under me. Stuffed full. Too cock-drunk to talk back.”

You tried to argue—but the words got caught in your throat when he angled his hips just right and slammed into your g-spot again and again.

Your moans got louder. You hated how fast he could ruin you.

“You’re gonna come,” he warned. “You better fucking come when I tell you to.”

Your legs started to shake—again. His hand wrapped around your throat, thumb stroking over your pulse, possessive and rough.

“Say it,” he said, thrusting deep, wet skin slapping echoing in the room. “Tell me who’s fucking you like this.”

“You are,” you choked. “Naoya—fuck—you are—”

He groaned into your neck, hips stuttering. “You don’t even know how fucking tight you are—sucking me in like you need it.”

You shattered on the next thrust—body convulsing, mouth open, a cry ripping out of you that sounded like surrender. You didn’t even realize you were crying until his hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing a tear aside while he kept going, chasing his own high.

“Fuck… yeah… that’s it, take it. You’re mine now.”

And when he finally came—he didn’t pull out.

He spilled inside you with a broken moan, grinding his hips down, eyes locked on yours, like he wanted to watch you fall apart with his come dripping out of you.

When he pulled back, you were breathless. Fucked open. Legs trembling.

Naoya looked down at the mess between your thighs and smiled, smug as ever.

“Next time,” he said, licking a streak of sweat from your chest, “you’ll beg for it.”

And you hated that your body was already craving next time.

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!

be sure to check out my other stuff too <3

[msbyslilbimbo]

im making it one 🫶🏻

lips smother yours to shut you up, moans pitched in pleasure as slender fingers curl inside of you. they hit the most delicious spot, prodding it cruelly with precision. your skirt is pushed up your torso as kaiser's hand is jammed in your panties; one of your legs is hooked around his waist, the other quivering under your weight and arousal. kaiser’s palm will graze the swollen bud of your clit occasionally, making your entire body tense and the most pathetic little yip to leave your lips. any time your head tips back to let out moans, his own head follows, once again extinguishing the sinful noises. "you don't want people to hear how fucking easy you are, do you?"

"me?" you whimper out. "you're the o-ne who had-ha! to d-do this now-"

he's not able to quiet the yelp of delicious pain that zips through you as his fingers quickly slip out, spanking your pussy in punishment, a filthy, wet echo ringing in the air of the bathroom. "don't you forget," he snarls. "i brought you in here out of courtesy for you; i will haul you out onto the table and fuck you raw in front of all those people if you keep the attitude, understand?"

you whimper and your pussy clenches around nothing as he spews his depraved words. it makes you sick how turned on his words make you, and you hate how he knows exactly what he does to you. you feel him smirk against you, "you'd let me do that too, wouldn't you? such a filthy girl for some damn attention." his head drops to the side where his teeth sink into your neck, "scream for me then. if you don't care, then why should i?"

you glare at him, but your arms weave around his neck to hold him closer, moans being forced out with every prod his fingers surge through you. you sink your teeth into your lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste doing minimal to distract you from the delicious abuse your gummy walls are enduring. you feel so full, stuffed with his fingers and stretched wide, you feel your juices coating his fingers, and at this unfamiliar angle, he's able to hit every spot he needs to with ease.

it's delicious agony.

your heart stops as you hear the locked door handle jiggle, and you squeak in fear for someone walking in. kaiser smirks against your skin, "tell them someone's in here, baby."

"o-hah!occupied!" you whine, now even more determined to fight the moans that desire to bubble from your throat now that you've opened your mouth. you're whimpering, and your dribbling cunt is so sloppy, embarrassment flares in your tummy at the mere idea that someone hears exactly what kaiser is subjecting you to.

whoever tried the handle once didn’t try again, and you sigh in relief, now fully in ecstasy that you can enjoy yourself comfortably without someone finding out how easy it is for kaiser to shove you in some random room and make you cum.

“micha!” you squeal, letting your moans overcome your nerves. you fist the hair at the nape of his neck, your thighs trembling and burning from the position, and he helps hold you up as your knees grow weaker. “im-im-i needa-“

“then do it,” he whispers causally. “cum in this disgusting bathroom like the easy slut you are. bet you’d love to let everyone hear it too, hmm?”

he adds the heel of his palm to nestle against your clit, and your vision crackles and your moans pitch in volume. you don’t care anymore, michael kaiser is the only thing swimming in your brain, and you cum, the coil in your tummy suddenly going taught and snapping. your head flips back and you howl in delight, wet noises mingling with your euphoria as he fingers you though your orgasm, swirling and prodding and pounding into your most sensitive walls.

when you start climbing upwards to get away from his fingers, pleasure becoming too much, he slips his fingers out and makes a show of licking them clean, the sheen of your slick pussy shining on his fingertips as he licks it all off.

"you wanna bag out?" he mumbles against your lips. "get home and fuck a lot?"

"m'kay," you giggle, leaning in to kiss him, which he returns, making you mewl. you taste yourself on his tongue, and you pant and lean in for more, only making him chuckle and pull back with a bite of your lip. it doesn't take long to get your skirt on straight and smooth your shirt down, and kaiser makes a move to unlock the door and let you out-

only for isagi to trip inside.

you gasp in shock and grab onto kaiser in fear and embarrassment, but when you look at him, he's merely smirking smugly. the commotion causes more than a few party-goers to look over, but most of them are too drunk or high to process what exactly is happening, probably too drunk and high to realize isagi was listening the whole time. “now how did i know it was you, isagi yoichi?” kaiser goads.

isagi's pretty blue eyes wide as they look up at you guiltily, brows curved in worry. he gnaws on his lip and tries to formulate words, which he's clearly trying to pick carefully.

"i... was leaning against the door," he tries.

kaiser snickers, "yeah, i can tell. ear first, right?"

"no! of course not!"

“you know,” kaiser begins, making a show of slipping his hand back under your skirt to spank you. you yip, and isagi whines. “if you’re so insistent on being a disgusting pervert, you could at least own up to it like a big boy.”

“y-you’re the one fingering your girlfriend in the bathroom!” isagi’s voice is unsteady, and kaiser laughs in his face.

“michael,” you whine. “let’s just go.”

“pardon us, isagi,” he hums, dramatically stepping over the trembling man, extending his hand for you to take. “gotta take my girl home and fuck her like she deserves.”

“michael!” you gasp.

“have fun jerking off into the sink,” he continues, beckoning his fingers for you. you look between him and isagi, who’s blue eyes are begging you to forgive him, begging you to please understand, please prove kaiser wrong in that you do care for isagi.

instead, you mumble a soft “bye, yoichi,” and grab kaiser’s hand, letting him guide you out of the party and leaving isagi on the ground.

chat is the concept “kaiser fingers you in the bathroom at a party and isagi is listening on the other side, completely hard, but unable to do anything about it” a thing is there anything there

[pharawee]

What really gets me about PeteKenta this week (and by that I mean that it causes me emotional damage), much more so than in the episode before (or in the whole of season 1 even though the seeds were already there) is how emotionally careless Pete acts towards Kenta (and the mission against Tony but maybe that's for my PeteChrisWay post). And it's all such a mess -- their shared past, their individual traumas, their current preoccupation with second chances -- that I can't even blame Pete, even if I'm fully on Kenta's side here.

Pete treats (and, let's be honest here, this isn't even the first or fifth time) Kenta as an afterthought. I know he means well and that he's driven by trying to make amends for something that was never even his fault to begin with. I also understand that with the way things are right now in canon, his feelings for Kenta were always platonic (even though that makes the one kiss they shared kind of questionable in retrospect because at the very least he was acting very inquisitive, inviting even) which is fair enough. I wish they'd kept the whole "the one that got away" angle because it feels so much more realistic to me than the revelation that all this time Pete was himself secretly pining after Way.

(adding a sprinkle of gifs to this post because clearly I'm not suffering enough already)

The secret pining COULD however at least partially explain why Pete never put a stop to Kenta's one-sided pining either. Because he must always have known. He can repeat the "he thinks of me as a brother" line a hundred times, but he's a telepath. Kenta and he kissed, and every time they've since met and touched, Kenta's thoughts are very obviously all but screaming his longing at him.

And yet Pete has never said anything -- either to spare Kenta's feelings or (judging by how he handled his secret crush on Way) because he found the situation to be overwhelming. Again, I don't blame Pete in the slightest, it's not like he had an emotionally healthy childhood to learn how to approach these things. I don't even blame him for the third possibility: that Kenta's crush is a very useful thing for him to keep around, especially since in the past it's kept him out of Tony's reach (plus, feeling wanted when your own love is unrequited probably feels very nice too).

There's no way Kenta would have let him leave over and over again if it wasn't for his feelings (and remember, Kenta never extended the same courtesy to any of his other brothers until much later). Unrequited or not, not addressing the elephant in the room left Kenta in limbo for years. He's kidnapped children for Tony, probably even killed for Tony, yet as soon as Pete starts leaning into Kenta's longing for him, Kenta can't bring himself to stop Pete (much less harm him or rat him out to Tony) -- which is a really convenient secret weapon to have in a fight against someone as ruthless and powerful as Tony. It's not even deliberate manipulation but pure self-preservation. Babe and Jeff and Charlie and Way have all learned to survive on less than that. It's about time we see the damage that Tony caused in Pete.

And not only that. I think now we also get to see that Pete doesn't know or understand Kenta nearly as well enough as he believes. He literally asks the go-it-alone guy to not go it alone when that's kind of his whole thing (not to mention that OF COURSE Kenta will do the thing for him and not care for the consequences -- it's all he knows to do to earn appreciation). He's essentially leaving Kenta on stand-by, not like the brother he claims to be, but like a thing he can just pick back up whenever it's most convenient for him. And he deals out praise to Kim while openly reprimanding Kenta in the next sentence -- which ironically is such a Tony thing to do because it keeps Kenta small and loyal.

Pete is so willfully blind towards Kenta's feelings and to who Kenta is as a person that it makes him look like a total dick here. And the thing is, his defence doesn't even hold up: you wouldn't treat your brother like that either, someone you claim you share a bond with. Hell, if Pete treated Kim that way -- someone who's only marginally involved -- Kim would surely let him have a piece of his mind. But Kenta has learned to suffer in silence so why bother changing the status quo (and never mind that the status quo was Tony)?

As things are right now, Pete's allowed to have priorities (currently these priorities lie with neglecting everyone's safety by dicking down Chris on every imaginable surface in his condo while not even using a secure password on his private computer) while all Kenta is allowed to do (all that he KNOWS to do) is switch masters from Tony to... what? a very absent Pete?

I'll always love PeteKenta, and I'll always love the could-have-beens from Pit Babe Season 1, but with how things are playing out right now I either need Kim to put Pete in his place (good) or Kenta to walk away and leave Pete on read (even better).

[novaimperia]

★ nerd!nanami x popular girl!reader getting dirty in a closet

“we shouldn’t do this,” nanami whispers. 

rolling your eyes, you continue unbuckling his belt. his pants fall down his legs, revealing the Calvin Klein boxers you got him on a day which happened to be his birthday. you rub up on the bulge in his boxers. “you say that but, ken, you’re hard. have some shame, won’t you?”

as the most popular girl on campus, you have a reputation to uphold – no one can see you with the nerdiest guy around. always with a book and those stupid glasses that get in the way, nanami isn’t someone you want people knowing you’re fucking. and honestly, if you had it your way, he’d be thrown in the dust along with all the pathetic idiots you’ve let in your bed, but…nerdy as he is, he’s also really goot at sex. 

he’s got a huge dick too. 

“i can’t help that,” he grouches. “just leave first and i’ll come out soon; i need to wait for this to go down.”

clearly nervous, you can see, even in the dark, the way his eyes keep darting from your cleavage to the gap in the door. there’s a party happening out there and you have to go on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear just so you can be heard over the heavy bass, obnoxious chattering and whooping.

someone’s closet isn’t even the freakiest place you two have gotten it on – you’ve fucked in your car, in his, in a classroom, in the dean’s office, in a park, in the gym, under the bleachers, in the locker room, and so on and so forth. 

yet he's always just as jittery as all the other times. one would think he's still a virgin if they didn't know all the nasty positions he'd folded you into.

“ngh! s-stop, please.” 

shaky hands try to pull your hands away from his hard and leaking cock. his mouth isn’t very honest but thankfully his body is. already wet, you easily slot his cock in between your thighs, letting it rub on your slit. he moans through gritted teeth. fuck, he’s warm and firm and you can feel every vein on his long length. how unfair that this dick had gone so long without being used. thank god you're here now. he really ought to be more grateful.

“shush, kento. you can leave at any time and you know that, so cut the shit, and move your hips.” his forehead falls on top of your head. you feel his breath fan your face. hands gripping your hips, he keeps you still as he rocks back and forth, coating his cock in your juices. “good boy.” 

he throbs. 

in the cramped space, you two struggle to find a rhythm as you jostle around, trying to make the most of what you have. tightly packed together, you have no choice but to cling to his stupid vest. his heart beats fast under your cheek. cute.

his cock head catches on your clit and the friction is delicious. "hmm, just like that, ken. yeah, that's nice. you know just how i like my clit rubbed, don't you?"

breathless, he replies, "yeah."

annoyingly, his voice drops an octave into something seductive and sinful when he's in deep focus, which happens either when he's studying and scolds you for trying to get in his pants or when he's balls deep in your cunt and he's trying not to cum prematurely.

soon, with the party in full force and the crowd growing thicker and more drunken, he speeds up, unable to help himself. you’ve sprayed more perfume than usual today; it gets him whimpery when he can’t smell anything other than you. it's just one of the ways you like to make sure you're in control at all times.

“keep quiet, ken. you don’t want them to hear you, do you? you don’t want them to see you with your pants down and your pretty cock out, right?”

fingers dig into the fat of your ass cheeks through your skirt. your legs tighten and he groans, all choked up and needy as his pace increases until he’s rutting against your pussy with no rhyme or reason. “n-no. i don’t want them to see you like this either. i don’t want them to see your p-pussy or your pretty face when you orgasm. y-you’re mine.”

you sigh. that would be the sign to leave, to ditch the loser and move on, but ah, fuck, you’re close. any second now you’re going to cum all over his cock and you’ll make him clean you up. 

maybe you’ll give him one more chance. he’s a quick learner after all.

“yeah, ken. i’m yours. now, make me cum.”

he grabs hold of your face and smashes his lips to yours. clumsily and messily, he kisses you, shoving his tongue in just to taste you. you forgot he likes to kiss right before he cums. guess you do too because, at the same time like some shitty cliche, you two shudder against each other, skin slapping and juices flying.

“oh, fudge! t-thank you. thank you so much.” he’s wrapping his arms around you, suffocating you with his chest. good thing he practices good hygiene and actually smell good. much better than some of the other guys around, that’s for sure. another reason why you keep his clingy ass around. 

hot cum floods your panties and you curse the fact that you’ll have to dance with that mess between your legs. 

“yeah, yeah. hurry up and get on your knees. you know i like to cum at least three times before i party.”

nanami also looks good with your juices on those plump lips of his, oh and you do like it when his glasses fog up and he looks dazed with your taste. hmm, for a nerd, he is quite pretty, especially when those blond locks of his get all messy after you’ve had your way with him. if only he'd be better dressed and would pick up a sport or two.

“you have an exam tomorrow – maybe we should -hah- study for that.” not wasting any time in worming his tongue into your hole, he expertly hikes up your thigh over his broad shoulder, pressing his face up tight against your pussy, uncaring of the fact that his cum is mixing on his tongue.

you roll your eyes. “ugh, fine. but we’re fucking in your car before and after, alright?”

he smiles. your heart squeezes.

“good girl.”

“w-whatever.”

[snail-day]

Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.

Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.

Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.

He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.

Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.

Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.

Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?

When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.

And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.

Then he sees it.

A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.

Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.

What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.

He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.

And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.

Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.

You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.

You shift closer.

A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.

He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.

He swears he hears wedding bells.

You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.

His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.

Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.

How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?

[succubusvalentine]

I've seen so many posts about butcher Simon Riley so... Simon Riley who gives you the best meats whenever you come in. CW : rough sex, mentions of overstimulation, drooling.

Simon notices you immediately the first time you walk in. He completely disregards the ticket system that had been put in place so he could serve you. Causing a few people to groan in annoyance.

Simon ignored them, his brain honed in on your sweet smile and request for a chicken. Now usually, Simon would've nodded, and given you an average one.

"'course darlin'" is what he says instead, finding the best chicken he has in stock and wrapping it up for you. Even giving you a discount.

And after that, you keep coming back. Getting the highest quality meats of whatever you request.

Simon makes sure he's fully stocked with all the meats you buy most commonly. He couldn't bear to see the pout on your face for a second time (the first was enough for him to punch the next customer who gave him attitude, arrogant businessman).

You loved all the meats Simon gave you. You thought it was so kind of him to give you these high quality meats at such a low price.

Your favourite, though? Well it had to be Simons.

It just felt so fucking good as you choked on it, looking up at him with wet lashes, disgusting sounds filling the room that shot straight down to your clit.

But, it felt even better when your thighs were against your chest, the brute of a man above you and pounding into you, over and over and over. Each brush against your g-spot and kiss of his tip on your cervix had pathetic little mewls falling from your lips.

Not that Simon was any better, he was barely able to keep his eyes open to watch your tits bounce with every rough thrust forward, he was growling and drooling. His drool splattering onto your stomach every few seconds.

"S-Simon!" you squeak, your nails clawing at his shoulder blades, almost screaming as he finds a new angle to fuck into you at.

"Tha's it, f-fuck, so goo' lovie" Simon slurred, growling as you came on his cock.

Simon then grabbed you by your ass, hoisting you up and ignoring your yelp. He leaned back on his haunches, now kneeling, and he started thrusting up into you. He was so strong that he was practically bouncing you as you squirmed and whined in overstimulation.

Your body was limp. Dead weight. Yet it didn't deter Simon in the slightest. Before finally, you felt his hot seed spill into you.

So yeah, Simon definitely had the best meat.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

[laceyfaeryy]

MDNI 18+

౨ৎ⠀ׄ⠀. ━ simon riley who was just too damn big for your small cunt

cw: size difference, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight dub-con??? idk , not proof read

simon knew that he was a big man, shoulders made him squeeze himself slightly smaller just so he can walk through doors, thighs so big it was impossible to find pants that could accomodate to them. and now, his sweet little bird who couldn’t even take his cock.

it was torture for him, the only thing that came close to fucking you was rubbing his aching cock along your glistening cunt, but yet that made things even worse. he fantasied about what your cunt felt like, how warm and tight it will be around his cock, the pretty moans that would leave your mouth as he buried himself deep inside you.

but now, he had to settle for his hands, too rough and always aching right after he came.

but he really couldn’t handle it anymore, each day he felt like he was slowly losing his sanity, not being able to feel his pretty bird. “please luvie? let’s jus’ try one more time, im a patient man.” simon pleaded, slowly kissing your neck as his large scarred hands rubbed your sides, coaxing you.

“please, i’ll make you feel so good.” it was pathetic how his cock was already straining against his pants, gently pressing the bulge against your clothed cunt. he almost came in his pants from the way you gently grind against his cock, the heat of your body making his blood rush to his groin.

“you want it too luvie, look at you, pretty lil thing desperate for my cock,” his voice hoarse as he gently nudged your legs apart. “can’t deprive my lil birdie from her needs can i?”

“it’s not gonna fit si,” you whined as he gave his cock a few pumps, eyes trained on you.

“it will baby, yer made for me.” he reassured, gently rubbing his thick fingers around your cunt, watching them glisten as he stretched you out. “yer lil cunnie is quite obedient when she’s needy.” simon could groan when he smelt your arousal, you were so god damn wet he was pretty sure he wouldn’t need lube.

“gonna give her some attention yeah luvie?” he leaned down as he gently pressed a kiss against your cunt, your nails tugged his hair as he gave a fat lick against your folds. the only form of intimacy the two of you had was giving each other head, his tongue deep inside you as he savoured each taste, ignoring how hard his cock was from his action alone. “she’s ready, i promise.” simon groaned as your arousal glistened down his chin, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to your cunt.

the moment his tip sank in he lost all control, a guttural groan leaving his mouth before slamming all the way in. “si!” you whined as you tried to back away, the sudden action giving you a burning sensation from the obscene stretch. “fuck, sorry luvie,” his large hands gently cradling your face before peppering your face with kisses. “jus’ not used to this feeling.”

he tried his best to go slow, really he did, but you just felt so warm and tight around him, gummy walls clenching around his cock like it was trying to remember every vein. “fuckin’ hell, it’s like yer tryin’ to milk me dry,” a sharp hiss left his lips as he tried to compose himself.

but he couldn’t stop, god you just felt so good, your cunt so welcoming that he couldn’t stop drilling deep inside you. despite your struggles of accomodating to his length your cunt gushed all over him, the most lewd wet noises filling up the room.

your body trembled with each thrust, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clawed his back. “fuck, i don’t wanna stop,” simon swore that his eyes could roll back from the feeling of your cunt alone. god, something would have to pull him off you.

“‘m gonna give this lil cunt the attention she deserves yeah? poor thing has only felt my tongue and fingers, need to fill her up as compensation yeah?”

simon didn’t stop until he filled your cunt up, admiring the way his cum leaked even with his cock stuffed inside you. “gonna fuck you till yer full of my cum, can’t have my pretty baby all empty can i?”

tag list: @happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy @lilyalone @other-fandoms-reblogs @goonette6969

[oreo-creampies]

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭���𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mean/angry nerd!switch!choso, hate fucking/academic rivals, Daddy/brat, biting, degradation/mocking, two pussy slaps, a hint of oral/fingering for some prep, pain kink, begging, just the tip, choking, light fem dom!reader, biting, hair pulling/dragging, mirror sex, full nelson, squirting

Oreo: @arminsumi @vampress7 lets all be delulu over nerd!choso, normal choso could and would never be so mean. I stand by that but this is nerd!choso Au whose done with your shit even if you are right! 🤤

“You’re such an annoying brat correcting me in class.” Choso grabs your arms pinning them above your head. Stuffing his thigh between your legs. Grinding your hips, your soft clit perfectly rubbing on his thick thigh.

Fighting the urge to groan. “If you weren't wrong, I wouldn't have to-!” Choso shuts you up with a rough kiss, biting your bottom lip. Slipping his tongue past when you cry.

Squeezing your neck, pulling away, smirking down at you. “Say something now, do anything other than grind your clit on my thigh like a pretty dirty whore.” Glaring up at him, unable to stop yourself. It feels to go to rock your clothed cunt on his clothed thigh.

Sneering, “If only the class knew what a pathetic whore you are. Glaring up at me like you won't beg for my cock.” It’s going straight to your needy cunt the way Choso is looking down at you with such angry hunger.

Moving his thigh from between yours. Roughly unbutton your pants, yanking them down your thighs with your underwear Curling two thick fingers into your cunt. “Already stupidly wet for me, nnn can't believe such a pretty cunt belongs to such a brat.” Letting go of your neck, crouching down ripping your pants down the rest of the way.

“Aw Choso Kamo is mad 'cause I’m right! Doesn't matter how much of a stupid cock drunk slut your fat cock makes me it won't change that!” Slapping your clit and cunt repeatedly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, muffling your cries from the sweet sting.

Biting your stomach, gliding two thick fingers. You grab a fistful of his dark hair tugging till he whines. Your sloppy wet cunt quivers around Choso's thick fingers from the beautiful sound. “Annoying brat.” Propping your thigh on his broad shoulder, shoving his face towards your clit.

“Shut up and suck my clit.” Biting your thigh, pumping his thick fingers faster. Massaging your sweet spot, licking your soft clit. Groaning into your cunt, grabbing your hip digging in his nails.

Squirming grinding your hips, swiping your clit on his pierced tongue. Curling from your toes from the sweet pressure of his hard bar. “Fuck you for being so damn beautiful with my cunt on your face.” Sloppily sucking on your soft clit, groaning getting off in the soft squelching of his finger sinking into your sloppy wet cunt.

Gliding his fingers out, slipping your thigh off his shoulder standing up. Unbuttoning his dark pants, pushing them down, kicking them to the side. “No underwear? Figures why everyone could see the fat outline of your cock when you were in front of the class.”

Picking up his beautiful cock. Biting your lip, stroking your clit, you love the way he’s so fat and heavy he hangs. He smirks looking down at you, trapping your head between his large hands.

Grabbing his cock touching stroking your clit. “I knew you were lookin’ n you lied sayin’ you weren't.” He groans when you slide your side lips along his cock, smearing slick into his cock head. Helping you stroke your clit better.

“Fuck you, you didn't deserve the satisfaction after being wrong. You should have studied better, I'm disappointed in you can I even think of you as a rival after that.” Biting Choso’s tattoo of black flowers and dark green leaves and thorny vines.

The large garden covers most of his body. Hiding scars you’ve memorized the placement of. You hate him so much, yet you know his body better than your own.

Tracing over the one above his heart. Kissing the bite mark. “Please you know you’re going to be thinking about seeing me in class tomorrow. Let’s see how good your essay is, if I think it’s less than 96 you’re not cumming.” Grabbing your hair pulling your head back.

Looking up at him, siding your hand down from his thick hard pecs to his sculpted abs. “Fuck whatever stupid grading system you have it's rigged. You just want to hear me beg.” Stepping back, taking away his thick, warm cock on your soft clit.

Choso leads you from his living room into the hallway with a firm grasp on your hair. “Damn right, I want to hear you beg for this cock. Watch yourself, see what a dumb slut I fuck ya into.” Letting go, shoving you into his bathroom, grabbing your arm, and twisting you to face the mirror. Bending you over, lifting your ass up in the air.

Grabbing the counter. Admiring Choso in the mirror. His broad chest, thick arms, and slim waist. “I want to be fucked dumb by your fat cock.” Lining his thick cock up gliding in just his fat cock head.

Suspended in the air with only his tip in you, you look so desperate begging. "Please fuck me with your fat cock, I don't want to think of anything else. Wanna be your pretty dumb cock sleeve." Gliding his cock out, slapping himself on your lips.

Clenching with every wet smack, lining himself back up gliding only his fat tip into you. His fat head alone stretching your cunt feels too damn good. "Please fuck my bratty attitude outta me, make me your mindless cum stuffed slut. NNn." Roughly pulling you back to meet his harsh thrust, stuffing you full of his cock.

Loudly moaning, "Fuck me!" Choso grabs your hair, yanking you upright. Wrapping an arm around his neck. Choso slips his arms underneath your legs, folding you in half. Bouncing you in time with his hard, quick thrusts.

Stroking your sweet spot before stirring your guts up. "That's what I thought it's ok ya can moan you are my stupid pretty slut." Slipping his arm across your body, trapping both your legs over his thick forearm.

You're tightly pinned, knees to your chest watching your cunt get stuffed. Getting off on how Choso needs one arm to support you. Stroking your clit whining from the sweet toe-curling pleasure, clenching his fat cock. "Nnn daddy please!"

"Daddy? Already is it that good? Like seeing how your cunt is making a perfect circle from how fat my cock is." Steadily stroking your soft clit. Over the months of ending up in his apartment he's perfected playing with your clit.

You couldn't do it better yourself anymore. Couldn't cum this hard that your eyes are rolling back, body trembling, jaw-dropping. Your thick slick dripping down Choso's balls, some of your squirt splashing onto his counter.

Forgetting everything but getting fucked stupid on Choso's fat, veiny cock. “Ya cummin' so much for me, thought ya hated me but look at you. Giving me those love sick eyes." You don't have the mind to protest.

Choso smirks, "I might be second in class but I'm still your Daddy. No one else can fuck ya like I can look at ya already a stupid drooling brat.”

oreo’s m.list

[crushmeeren]

ᯓ★ FIRST TIME FUCKING YOU WITHOUT A CONDOM.

⋆ ft. seishiro, yoichi, meguru, hyoma ⋆

⋆ cw ; unprotected sex, mentions of birth control pills, the kind of sex where you both wake up in the middle of the night and melt into one another.

master list

ᯓ★ seishiro

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

For the most part, when you tell him, Seishiro would take it in stride.

It’d be funny though, Seishiro’s video game character dying miserably in the background as he stared at you, dumbstruck. Sleepy eyes wide because he can’t believe you want him to fuck you raw.

“You — what?” He’d still be wearing a semi - bored expression, but his knuckles would turn white from the harsh the grip on his switch.

You’d shake your head with fondness and a soft smile, repeating, “The next time we have sex, I don’t want you to wear a condom, Sei. What do you think?”

Seishiro would swallow the heat creeping up his throat and shift in place on the couch, all his blood rushing south. His dick would get hard just from the thought, sticking hot and heavy to his inner thigh. His shorts would do a pathetic job covering it.

Seishiro’s head would tilt, brows scrunching together. “Won’t you get pregnant?”

“I’m on the pill dummy. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Seishiro would blink a few times and hum, abandoning his switch on the couch. Next time is too far away, he wants to fuck you right now.

He’d drag you to the bedroom and push you on the mattress, pulling his shirt off and shoving at his waistband enough to let his cock bob free.

“Sei! At least take off my underwear!” You’d chide, wrists caught in big hands and pinned by your head as he interrupted your disrobing. Your sweats would lay in a crumpled heap beside you.

“Not waiting,” he’d mutter, inching closer between your legs. He’d gather your wrists in one hand and hook his fingers in the soft fabric of your panties to pull them aside, stroking his cock after. He’d slide his tip over your clit a few times, pleasure jolting through you.

The satisfying stretch would be accompanied by a slight burn, pussy not quite wet enough for him. Not that you’d give a fuck, you’d be as impatient as Seishiro, if not more. “Fuck, Sei,” you’d moan and gasp. “Feels so different without a condom. You’re so big.”

“It’s so fucking good,” he’d whine, thrusting without your say so, pushing your shirt to your collarbone to watch your tits bounce. Seeing Seishiro’s eyes roll back would have red hot pleasure rushing up your spine.

He’d throw one leg over his shoulder and bend you in half, hands planted by your shoulders. “M’gonna cum soon,” he’d warn. “Touch yourself.”

He’d hold out for thirty more seconds, but he wouldn’t stop. Seishiro would use how slick he’d made you to his advantage, working you through your own burst of pleasure.

The sensation, the filthy noise, it’d be enough to make you feel the need to confess your sins in church.

ᯓ★ yoichi

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Yoichi would choke on the water he’s drinking when you ask.

“Sorry,” he’d wheeze, hacking up a lung as his cheeks flush bright pink. You’d rub his back, waiting for him to calm down.

“So, do you want to?”

Yoichi’s mouth would open, then close, then he’d set his water bottle down on the kitchen counter. “You’re serious?” He’d chew on his bottom lip. “You don’t want me to wear a condom?”

“I really really want to feel you.”

You’d sink down on Yoichi’s cock that evening, after he insisted you ride him because he’s “certain he’ll cum too fast if he controls the pace.” He’d toss his head onto the back of the couch, eyes squeezed shut, gripping your hips and digging his nails into your skin.

“Oh god,” he’d moan, loud and needy when you lift up halfway and sit down. You’d clutch his shoulders and use the leverage to help yourself bounce. Dragging a gasp from him that echoes throughout the room when your pussy squeezes tight on purpose.

You’d ride him slow and sweet, trail your lips over his jaw, and press close to whisper in his ear, “You love this, don’t you Yoichi?”

“So fucking much,” he’d pant. Yoichi’s hands would slide to your ass and hold you aloft, heels digging into plush carpet as he thrusts so hard your eyes pop wide open. You’d fall against him and press your nose to his temple, hugging him close. He’d be so warm.

Yoichi would finish fast. He’d grind you back and forth in his lap, cock throbbing steadily, muttering, “Sorry, sorry baby — fuck, sorry. Gonna make you cum, promise.”

ᯓ★ meguru

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

You’d be mid fuck, staring at Meguru who’s tilted his head towards the ceiling. Who’s moaning with his mouth hanging open and smiling like your pussy’s told him directly she loves his cock. He’d bite his bottom lip and squeeze your thighs, moaning your name. Eyes glued to your bouncing tits.

After several shots last weekend, Meguru’d let it slip how bad he needs to fuck your pussy raw. How he jerks off to the thought of it way more often than is healthy because he doesn’t want to push you into something you don’t want.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, they say.

The sudden urge to help him fulfill his dreams would overpower any lingering reservations.

“Take the — oh god, take the condom off, Meguru.” Your hand would press against his lower belly, urging him to pull out.

He’d freeze, pelvis pressed to your ass, and tilt his head. “Did you just say what I think you did?” His tone would be overeager, like a puppy.

“Yes,” you’d confirm, head bobbing.

The condom would be off in less than ten seconds.

Meguru’d be whiny and loud as he pushes in, hips jerking with tiny movements. “I need to cum. Now. Pretty please baby, can I? Your pussy feels so good — I can’t last.”

His cock would twitch and your pussy’d tighten. It’d be no shock at all that he’s so sensitive. “Yeah,” you’d breathe. “As long as you keep going after.”

Meguru would moan and fuck you like he’s paying for it. Head buried into your shoulder, hands tucked under your ass and gripping tight. Your collar bone would grow damp from how hotly he’d pant, sinking his teeth in as he let himself cum.

No matter. He’d fuck you through his overstimulation, not stopping for a second until you’ve had your fun.

ᯓ★ hyoma

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Hyoma wouldn’t be proud at his lack of self discipline in the heat of the moment.

You’d asked him a long time ago how he’d felt about it. Refusing to look him in the eyes when the topic was brought up because you’d been daydreaming about taking him raw for quite some time.

He’d assured you he really, really wanted to, but he’d explained he’d rather not take a single chance at having a surprise baby, even if you were on birth control. You’d respected his wishes and moved on.

Sleepy, soft sex with Hyoma is great. You’d wake up late into the night from a filthy dream of him and, with limbs that’d still be heavy with sleep, you’d shift in bed to face him. Nuzzling your nose against his, pressing sweet kisses to his mouth until he woke up enough to get the hint.

He’d encourage you to turn again, snaking an arm under your neck and letting it wrap around your shoulders to pull you close. You’d both be half asleep still, as Hyoma gripped your thigh and lifted it. As he wiggled his hips until the tip of his cock parted the lips of your pussy.

As he slid his thick cock inside you. Raw.

It’d send a jolt down your spine, brain coming on line a bit more. “Hyo,” you’d gasp, his heavy answering moan vibrating your shoulder blade. “You didn’t — what about the condom? Are you sure?”

He’d give you a high pitched whine. “Don’t want it, baby.”

You wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth as the first slow drag of his cock knocked the breath from your lungs. It’d be the kind of sex that’s steady and sensual, his cock never going too deep, wrapped up in Hyoma’s arms.

Hyoma wouldn’t truly realize what he’s done until after he’s cum inside you.

“Thought you wanted to use a condom?” You’d pant softly, scrunching your nose at the sticky, sweaty sensation of Hyoma’s belly against your lower back.

He’d stiffen slightly, hugging you. “I couldn’t help myself,” he’d mumble. It’d be easy to tell he’s pouting without looking.

“We’re never using condoms again. Just so you know.”

Hyoma’d sigh dramatically, but in the morning he’d throw out the half full box of condoms in your bedside drawer.

[nanamisdollie]

Touched starve rin finally gets his hands on reader, stay with me now

rin missing his girl a lil too much ⋆ 𐙚 ̊.

oh trust me i’m with u anon.

smut, mdni, charecters aged up!! cw: dubcon, somno, rin being pathetic and needy<3

it was late when rin finally got home from post game festivities. he hated them in all honesty, anyone who knew him knew that, but he was also way too exhausted to fight the other grown men physically pulling him to an uber while yapping about shots.

zero drinks and three hours later he was unlocking the front door of his apartment.

he didn’t even bother to take his sneakers off, ghosting through the living room followed by the hallway that led to the bedroom. the door was ajar so a gentle push was all it needed.

rins heavy eyes scanned the dark room. when they landed on the bed the sight made something deep in his chest soften; you. you curled up half under the comforter, bare leg kicked out, hair a halo beneath your head. it was a site that never failed to make him weak in the knees.

he had been so busy lately; practice, games, press…not enough of you. it didn’t help that you had your own priorities, but sometimes he wished he could take you away, run away from all of it with you,

but that wasn’t realistic. he loved soccer, and rin may have loved you more but this was the life he built for himself since he was a kid.

so, instead of taking you and leaving everything without a word, he kicked his shoes off and fell face forward onto the soft mattress you shared. sinking in, his teal eyes scanned your figure once more and a hand came to rest on you hip. you stirred, but didn’t wake.

he admired you as you slept for a while. it may have been creepy, but he missed you so damn much. rin didn’t get love the way most kids did when he was growing up, he had sae of course but his parents weren’t…affectionate.

when the two of you began dating he was confused when you would touch him in small, soft way. a hand on his back when he muttered complaints about how he played in a game, holding his hands in yours when you were talking to him sincerely, caressing his cheek while admiring him; after that he was addicted to your touch.

the hand on your hip slid up to your waist, fingers brushing at the skin where your shirt rode up. itd been so long. god damnit, now he was getting hard, all from a few fingers on your skin! it was pathetic, rin knew it, you even knew it. you let him be pathetic, you let him be different from the rin itoshi the world knew.

he loved you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

it was a choked whine that made you stir from sleep, one right in your ear so close that it made the hair on your neck stand up.

a huff fell past your dry lips as your eyes fluttered open. they fell on the digital clock on your cluttered bedside table; 1:27 am. was rin home?

“shit, m’ sorry…”

well, that was certainly an answer. more familiar whines filled the room while your other senses came to; the feeling of friction and wetness between your thighs, a hand underneath your shirt grasping and kneading at your breast, drool on your neck.

“rin?”

another choked sob following by a sloppy wet kiss to the side of your face

“so fuckin’ s-sorry- mmph-“ rins hips began to thrust faster hitting your ass while his cock slid up against your clothed cunt. he was lost in his own pleasure, he could feel your lips from just how much precum he’d leaked.

you tried to look back at him the best you could and when you met him with a mess of black locks, drool dribbling from the side of his mouth, he kissed you.

it wasn’t rough, it was needy. full of want. he kept mumbling out little ‘love you’s and ‘missed you’s whenever there was a pause to breath. his hips still worked against you at an adjusted angle that let his tip hit your clit just right.

when you finally pulled back and were able to rest your forehead to his in the awkward position you shakily spoke “y-you could’ve woken me- mm- up” it was a whisper, so sweet he whimpered in response.

“jus’ missed you so- fuck- fuckin’ bad! needed to t-touch you” rins face fell into the crook of your neck that was still messy with his own drool. he didn’t care. “i love you, y/n. say you love me. please!”

his begs were persistent, his cock was throbbing against you and his pace slowed. he was close. you turned your head once again to look at him properly, your hand coming to hold his face. another whimper escaped his flushed lips.

“i love you, rin”

that was enough for him. his hips press flush to your ass as he finishes, cum staining your thighs and the bed. he was crying at this point, both arms coming to wrap around you tightly.

“thank you-“ a hiccup followed by a shaky sigh “missed being able to touch you…” he already sounded like the exhaustion was catching up to him, post nut clarity filling his senses

that made you soften slightly. you shifted your body the best you could without making more of a mess with his load still sticky and cooling against you skin. you press a kiss to his cheek.

“s’ okay baby…just relax. we can clean up in the morning”

“you sure?” big eyes look up at you. its as if he’s looking at a goddess.

“i’m sure…you owe me head though”

“anything for you, maam~”

tysm for ur request ^.^ i <3 needy pathetic rin!!! I’m sorry if its diff from what you might’ve imagined :,)

[slightly-knot-insane]

Breaking a Promise

You love your monster boyfriends cock. It's huge, long, ribbed, a wonderful alien shape that you can't even describe. Beautiful colors are splashed across it, along the veins, glans, his balls, and surrounding the lovely hole that shoots that delicious load all over and inside you. You love to lick that little hole, pushing your tongue inside, tasting the pre-cum while listening to the grunts of your handsome boyfriend. His muscles spasm, he barely keeps himself under control. You forbade him to touch you this time. This time, he's your monster toy.

You glide your tongue slowly along his shaft, kissing every curve and stripe, every little marking. He can only squirm under your touch because he promised - he promised! - not to place a finger on you.

Smiling deviously, you continue your torture, soaking his monster phallus with your saliva. You suck his balls and foreskin, pulling them with your teeth. He hisses, his hands curled into fists. "Fuck... you are evil..."

"Evil?" You lift yourself on your knees and crawl closer to his dick. You kneel and start grinding yourself up and down along his soft creases, stimulating your swollen clit. "I am now."

"Fuck..." His head falls backward, exasperated sigh escaping his lips. He swallows hard while he grunts, controlling his arms, scratching the bedsheets like a nervous cat. "Please... Let me, just a little bit..."

"No", you snap, too focused on your pleasure, holding his dick against yourself and rocking your hips. Your moans become louder and you can feel your core aching. You push yourself forward, forcing his cock on his stomach so that you can ride it with more force. "Ah... ah... yes, I'm close."

He puts his hands behind his head, biting his bicep, trying not to look at you. But he can feel and hear every part of you. He can feel your wet cunt, the moist sounds, your pants and whimpers, your folds sliding along his cock.

"I'm gonna—" Your orgasm hard, screaming from delight, still humping his cock, making your clit pulsate. It is so intense, you shake and whimper like a pathetic plaything.

"Fuck this!" He grabs your hips and lifts you up like a doll. You aren't aware of his actions until you feel his full length inside your still pulsating pussy. "Ahhh yes!", you scream.

His pounding cock enhances your ongoing orgasm and just pushes the next wave forward. Hearing him grunt and groan while slamming your pussy against his groin speeds things up. You climax again, him balls deep inside you, chasing his own release.

"Oh fuck, baby, you feel so good... Your pussy loves my cock... It throbs around my cock... Ah..."

He presses you against his chest so that his hips can buck with full force. With a deep guttural growl, he buries his cock deep inside you and cums. He fills you up so much, you feel the pressure inside your womb as it swells.

After catching his breath, he says, in a most fake apologetic voice: "I'm sorry I broke my promise."

With half-lidded eyes, you kiss his chest. "You are not, you whore. At least you break your promises in a really fantastic way."

[cherryheairt]

A Long Day's Night

Remmick x reader

need a pathetic yet protective husband fs

It wasn't unusual for you to keep your doors locked and curtains drawn. The same went for all of your neighbors, and their neighbors after. Your husband considered himself resilient to the outsiders, and you did too. Though their oppression was strong and their numbers mighty, you stood stronger in your core values and beliefs.

No outsiders would tell you who or what to be.

They didn't like that attitude. Thousands upon thousands resisted, though eventually succumbed to them and their brutish ways. Kings and kings and kings fought over land that none would ever set foot on themselves. You were lucky to live outside of the cities, away from the worst of the war and the foot soldiers that invaded unsuspecting citizen's homes. The outskirts of Dublin were as quiet as war-ravaged plains and starved, rumbling stomachs could be. This didn't quell the fear burning a hole in your throat when your husband didn't come home at his usual time.

His days at the farm were long and troublesome, and yours were mentally straining with keeping the children of your little village occupied whilst their parents worked their day away. But it was worth it to reunite at sundown and wind down in a quiet peace together.

His sun-kissed skin was always warm and smelled of soil and sweat when he walked in, wiping his glistening forehead with his sleeve while kissing you delicately on your temple to not sully you with grime. You never cared much, pulling him down surely and meeting his lips with your own, dry and cracked as they might be from his labours.

You'd cook a small dinner to share between the two of you, ensuring he wouldn't pass out from exhaustion and hunger the next workday (not an uncommon occurrence these days amongst the farmers) and drawing a cooling bath for you both to soak in and take in each other's company.

Life was better before they came. Still, any life with him was a good one. Whether that meant starving most days or fearing your door being the next one knocked down—so be it. You knew he shared that exact sentiment.

So where was your dear husband?

It was well past sunset, and the birds had long since made a peep. Even the critters were silent tonight, and you couldn't help the nausea crawling up your throat from worry.

After what felt like hours of pacing your worn wooden floors, potato soup long gone cold, you heard the frantic stomps of a man stalking through grass and gravel outside of your home. Without truly thinking it through, you swept open the door and grabbed your lantern to lighten the pitch black midnight.

There, at the bottom of your porch steps, was your husband, heaving and gasping for breath like a man hunted.

“Micky!” You abandoned the lantern at the table next to the door, rushing down the steps to grab him and hold him up. He swayed a bit before straightening himself, just barely, looking down to you with a wild look of fear in his deep brown eyes. For a moment, you didn't think he registered who you were.

Blood stained his white cotton shirt. It was aged and worn before, but mended carefully by you on the regular. Now it wasn't salvageable—torn at the collar and arms, ripped like claws had dragged through at the waist. Any visible skin on him was muddled red and you couldn't even tell where his wounds were nor how deep. The nearest clinic had to be a few miles walk, one he couldn't possibly make.

His breaths were still ragged as you guided him to the first step carefully. His weight nearly knocked you down. “Mick, talk to me. Did they come to the farm?” You spoke hushed as if the invaders might be in the bushes listening to you.

“Baby—” He coughed, wet and choking. He spit after a few moments of tense heaves, and what left his mouth could only be the very thing covering his body.

“You're coughing up blood, we need to get you to Peter's,” Before you could take another step, he righted himself. He stood rod-straight and seemed broader than when he had left this morning. He wasn't wheezing any longer, but took completely silent and controlled breaths. His grip on your waist tightened and he shifted his hands to your face, inspecting you carefully.

Like he gained some kind of new consciousness.

“Yer’ scaring me, Mick.” You whispered, his intense gaze boring into your own avoidant one.

“You're okay?” He asked, his first full sentence, ignoring your own. “No one came by?”

“No one.” You assured. “What—”

“We need to leave. Now.” He grunted out, stained hands leaving wet marks across your cheeks as he released you and guided you by the waist to the doorway. All the while he shot his head back and forth and looked into the treeline to ensure no followers. If you went silent, you swore you would be able to hear his anxiously racing heart, and maybe your own running right alongside it.

You didn't have much of an option except to blindly follow. You trusted your husband more than anyone, and his judgement hadn't failed you this far. Not when he decided to move outside of the city after your wedding, not when he chased off the men following you home from work, and certainly not tonight when he had clearly seen hell and came back from it.

As you crossed the house's threshold, you paused when you noticed him flinch. He jerked back away from you like he'd been burned, a noise of surprise and pain leaving his chest.

“Remmick?” You turned, eyeing his figure in the doorway. He looked paused in time, brows knitted impossibly tight and grasping onto the frame like he was about to kneel over. “Come on, what was that?”

Remmick glances between you and the creaky floorboards. With a tentative step forward, he crossed the doorway and met you in the living room-kitchenette.

His moment of hesitation didn't last long as he started stuffing necessities into bags. Every few seconds, he moved at an inhuman pace for a brief moment before pausing and taking a deep breath, righting himself and continuing rummaging through cabinets. You stayed glued to your spot, worrying that your husband hit his head when he was attacked.

“I think you need to sit down, Rem.” You squinted, placing a palm on his shoulder and clenching your jaw when he flinched. He was cold to the touch, something you hadn't noticed when you found him outside. You thought it was simply the cool night's air chilling him through thin clothes.

He muttered something incomprehensible.

There was nothing you could tell him. Nothing that could break him from this trance and get an explanation. Wordlessly, you allowed him to move around the home while you wet a washcloth from the cold water left in the kitchen's pail.

“Remmick,” you grabbed his arms, gentle but still firm in your toeing back to the dining table where you sat him down in a chair. He looked up at you, and the lighting finally illuminated him properly. He looked absolutely awful, the product of some massacre you would surely hear about from the town’s mothers the next morning. Something about him stayed eerily still, and you weren't quite sure if his shoulders were moving up and down anymore.

You started with his face, cleaning smeared crimson from around his mouth and down his neck. His stare bored into your face as you worked. The clothes were destroyed completely, but he didn't seem to pay any mind to the damp and shredded linens on his body.

Tugging it off from the waist on up, lifting it over his head was all too easy when he followed every silent command like a dog.

“Are you holdin’ your breath?” You asked, placing your hand over a cleaned part of his chest.

His jaw ticked. His eyes closed for a minute and slowly, he nodded.

“You gotta breathe, baby.” You ushered. Holding his face in your hands, you rubbed your thumbs over the highs of his cheek soothingly. “They're not here. It's just me and you.”

When he opened them again, the flash of red made your heart jump. It was gone in a silver of a second, just a trick of the light against his brown hues, but enough to catch your own breath.

He noticed, of course, being too observant when it came to you. He grasped onto your wrists. “I killed him.”

That shouldn't have surprised you. When he showed up looking like a hound dog fresh from a hare hunt, murder was the most obvious answer. Either for him to commit or another to attempt.

Death wasn't a foreign concept anymore. No, not with war on your front porch.

Death had become your neighbor. He was your neighbor just as much as Mary Corono down the street was. When she went missing—as many did, these days—you kept your questions to yourself. The curious cat gets no reward besides his own end. This time, it was your own business. Your own husband. There was no avoiding him.

Still, you didn't know what to do or say to comfort your husband. It must be justified, it must. Remmick was a good man. Remmick was good.

“I don't know what happened,” he swept his hands through blood-crusted hair. “I woke up and everything felt wrong, I felt like I was seeing someone else's life through my own eyes.”

You shifted to sit on the chair opposite him, still not allowing too much distance between the two of you but letting your shaking knees rest.

“I was so hungry.” He exhaled, finally. He didn't take a breath in to counter, just kept talking. “He stood over me and I could see myself through his eyes. He saw himself, too.”

“Did you take something from Peter?” You asked slowly. His dilated pupils could be from the new drug medication. His panic, hunger, violence.

He continued on.

“He saw you. I saw what he would do to you—what he did to me.” Remmick grasped your hands, grip becoming more than firm and certainly bruising. “I couldn't let him get you.”

Fear was in your husband's darkened eyes as plain as moonlight on the lake.

“He was ancient. Older than countries and laws. I couldn't even move my own body at first.” He swallowed harshly, adam's apple bobbing and splitting his throat.

There were no other sounds, you realized. No crickets chirping away or cicadas ruining a peaceful night of sleep. The world felt dead around you, and you started to believe Remmick was telling the truth.

“He had a way of controlling me. Controlling every man he'd ever turned into this. . .” He closed his eyes. “Thing.”

“I couldn't let him get you. I couldn't, baby—” The hoarseness and guilt in his voice broke your heart.

You'd never know what happened in the fields that night. If the man was innocent or guilty. All you could do was trust Remmick like you had for years.

“I'll keep packing.” You managed to mutter, forcing your voice not to tremble. “We'll leave before sunrise. Get cleaned up and into different clothes.”

His eyes flashed a red that nearly matched the dark smears across his clothes. This time, you knew you weren't crazy. There was no light flickered that made a man's eyes blood-lusted and red. You watched his shoulders finally lift on command as he inhaled, lightly resting his jaw against the smooth area of your neck. Automatically, your hands met his hair and you soothed it down, feeling the warm restraint of his large hands around your waist.

"We'll be okay. Wherever we go, whatever life transforms us into." You murmured lowly, kissing his temple. "We're together. That's all we need."

By the time the sun rose in the morning and your neighbors came a’knocking on your door, the house was empty and lanterns cold.

This ended up fairly shorter than what I imagined but basically occurs during the time when Remmick would first be turned, during the time of Ireland's colonization and invasion by two other countries/parties. I thought it would be an interesting concept if he truly did have a wife, and whether or not he turned her is completely up to the reader.

working on some remmick reqs still! feel free to add some more to my inbox.

[bloomiize]

currently thinking abt gooner/perv!jake and how he cannot keep his hands out of his pants and it’s only getting worse because of you

part one two three

gooner!jake jerks off TOO MUCH. it’s become an issue where even his hand doesn’t do it for him anymore. He probs watches whatever porn he can get his filthy hands on; hentai, Twitter clips, pornhub, cam girls, it’s never ending. His roommate is getting tired of hearing the low groans he lets out through the thin walls

gooner!jake probs has a secret stash of his favourite material. All of the girls look and sound eerily similar to someone he knows, you. It’s just a coincidence right?

perv!jake loves thinking about how you would sound under him. Are you loud? Maybe you’re a whimperer? Or maybe you’re shy and would try to hold back, he would change that if you’d let him. He loses his train of thought when you sit across from him and ask him if he’s done the most recent assignment.

perv!jake stares at you while you study, not in a creepy way of course. He just admires your eyes and thinks about how they’d look looking up at him while you sucked his dick. And he just likes your outfit, especially the way it hugs so tightly to your body basically exposing every curve. Oh and he’s just taking glances at your necklace. It’s not his fault that your tits are sitting so perfectly and your nipples are poking through your shirt like they want his mouth on them.

gooner!jake's pants are getting too tight. He excuses himself to the washroom. He's basically rubbing himself through his pants in the locked stall "Don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, not yet" he repeats to himself.

gooner!jake goes home after your study session and can’t stop thinking about you. The way you sounded when you said his name, so sweet and perfect. He would do anything just to hear you say it again and again while he’s fucking into your tight pussy. He doesn't even say hi to his roommate on the couch, he goes straight to his room and locks it. His hands are already fumbling with his sweats and he's pulling up a video, the girl in it doesn’t sound like you but it’ll work for now

gooner!jake has been fucking his fist for about two hours. He’s cum at least twice. Or was it three times? He lost count and he can't stop even though its starting to hurt. Hes biting his shirt to help stop the sounds from coming out but that doesn't stop the wet noises that are coming from his dick.

gooner!jake has hit a point where none of the videos and pictures are turning him on. He’s been going through his folder, but none of them are good enough, none of them are you.

gooner!jake found your Instagram account through stalking your mutual friends, and lets out a pathetic whimper when he sees that its public. He scrolls through it, weeping dick still in hand. There's the cutest photo of you next to your friends, harmless, right? You're in a swimsuit, the tiniest bikini, god, it's so small he's losing his mind. Why bother wearing it if you were gonna show him everything?

gooner!jake throws his head back imagining how he'd rip it off. He wouldn't even let you go in public if you wore something like that, not unless you were covered in hickies with his seed dripping down your thigh. You would let him fuck you raw wouldn't you? His poor tip is bright red, begging to release again. He would make you feel so good if you would just let him. He sticks his tongue out hitting the damp air and thinks about how you'd taste. Fuck he could die happy if he could just lick your perfect little pussy.

gooner!jake cums with a devestating groan after three hours of nonstop gooning. He says your name while he finishes and looks at the mess he made. His hand is coated in his own cum and his abs are glistening with sweat. He's careful to pull up his sweats due to how sensitive his cock is. He finally leaves his room and checks his phone to find a message from his roommate.

"Stop being so fucking loud when you’re jerking off. I'm going out until your done. You moan the same girls name every time. just fuck her already."

gooner!jake isn't embarrassed. He and his roommate have done a lot worse together. He thinks about the last four words in his head for the next week "just fuck her already". Maybe, just maybe, he'll find the courage to ask you out and do everything he's thought about.

from bloomiize: OMG MY FIRST PIECE OF WRITING AAAAAA i hope u guys like it sorry i got kinda carried away and a little freaky.... mb gang PLS REBLOG AND LMK WHAT U THINK!! thanks for reading ^^

[yurizq]

ෆ Yuji had been talking about this for weeks.

He’d planned the whole thing — lowkey dinner, his favorite casual spot near campus, the booth in the corner where you could laugh and eat and relax — just the four of you. You, him, Megumi, and Nobara. Just friends. No pressure.

“I want them to meet you,” he’d said with a soft grin, arms looped around your waist in bed the night before. “You’re important to me. They should know that.”

You kissed his cheek. “Of course, baby.”

But you hadn’t told him your own plan. You were going to ruin him.

He looked so damn proud when he introduced you.

Yuji stood up as you arrived at the table, pulled you close by the small of your back, beaming from ear to ear like you were some rare prize he’d won at the fair. “This is her,” he said to Megumi and Nobara. “The one I told you about.”

“Hi,” you smiled sweetly.

Megumi gave a nod. Nobara narrowed her eyes. “So you’re the girl who stole his hoodie and disappeared for a week?”

Yuji laughed nervously. “That’s not— She didn’t disappear, she just—she stayed over a few times, that’s all.”

You slid into the booth beside him. Your thigh pressed against his. “I just wanted to keep him warm.”

Megumi’s lips twitched like he was already suspicious.

Nobara snorted. “Right. Sure.”

You leaned over to grab a fry from Yuji’s plate — and your hand stayed there. Dropping. Resting. Slowly sliding down to his thigh under the table.

Yuji froze.

His smile faltered just a little, but he didn’t say a word. Not yet.

“You okay, baby?” you asked sweetly, eyes locked on the menu like nothing was happening.

“Y-Yeah.” His voice cracked. “Totally fine.”

Your hand moved higher. Smooth and slow. A casual brush over the front of his jeans that had his back straightening like he’d been electrocuted.

You watched him from the corner of your eye.

He was already hard.

Pathetic, you thought fondly.

Nobara started talking about some girl from one of her classes — something about a fight and a chair being thrown — but Yuji was zoning out. His eyes were wide, stuck on the table, lips parted, hands balled into fists in his lap as your fingers ghosted along the length of his growing bulge.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna be nervous,” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“I-I’m not nervous,” he whispered back.

You smiled. “Then why are you sweating?”

His hips jumped when your hand squeezed gently. You could feel the heat through his pants, the way his cock was twitching in your palm already. He shifted awkwardly in the seat and cleared his throat again.

Megumi raised a brow. “You good?”

“Yup,” Yuji squeaked. “Yup. I’m just—hungry.”

“Oh, he’s hungry alright,” you murmured.

He shot you a warning look, cheeks flushed.

You just giggled under your breath, unzipping his jeans beneath the tablecloth like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Yuji grabbed his napkin and slapped it into his lap in one frantic motion.

Nobara blinked. “...You okay?”

“Fine. Totally fine.”

You freed his cock slowly — already hard and leaking — and wrapped your hand around it under the table just as Nobara took a sip of her soda and said, “So how’d you guys start dating?”

Yuji flinched.

You stroked him once.

He twitched violently.

“Sh-She came up to me at the gym,” he gasped. “Said I looked like I had bad form.”

Megumi made a noise. “You do.”

You hummed and slid your hand down again, thumb smearing the wet slick from his tip.

Yuji’s eyes rolled back for a second before he bit his lip hard. You felt his cock jerk in your hand. So close already, and you hadn’t even started stroking properly.

“C’mon, Yuji,” you murmured, dragging your fist back up slow. “Be polite. Tell them what else I said.”

His voice was barely a breath. “Y-You said—fuck—said I was cute…”

You smiled. “Good boy.”

Nobara blinked. “What?”

“Nothing!” Yuji barked, too loud. His face was red. “She said I was cute!”

You giggled, hand moving faster now, wrist flicking the way you knew he liked. He was melting. His head dropped forward a little, breath shivering, trying not to thrust into your palm.

Megumi’s eyes narrowed. “You sure you’re okay?”

Yuji didn’t answer. His mouth opened, but no sound came out — just a strangled little moan that he covered with a fake cough.

Your hand squeezed, twisting near the his tip, and his thighs shook under the table.

You leaned close, whispering, “Gonna cum, baby?”

His hips jerked.

“Right here? While your friends are watching?”

“P-Please—” he whimpered.

You jerked him fast now, grip tight and mean, dragging his orgasm out of him with no mercy. His cock twitched and throbbed in your hand, and then—

Hot, sticky cum spilled all over your fingers.

Yuji bit down on his knuckle to stay silent, trembling, entire body twitching while you milked him through it under the table.

It was filthy. Warm and slick and wet in your palm.

You licked your lips and reached for your water like nothing had happened.

“Yuji,” Nobara said. “You’re, like… glowing.”

He blinked, pupils blown, face flushed, still twitching from the aftershocks.

“…I love her.”

[baroupurin]

━╋ cw : smut , oral (m) receiving , slightly submissive (m) , cursing , fem reader . .

men who are DEVOTED munchers becoming a stuttering mess when you ask to give them head… they look at you like you just asked the most incredulous question in existence. you? give him head? right now? he’s so used to servicing you— the thought of you giving him head already had him shamefully twitching in his pants and dizzy.

“are you sure, my love? no, i mean, you don’t need to… i mean—”

poor baby can barely put a sentence together even before the touching has even happened. don’t get him wrong, it’s not that he doesn’t want it. he’s indulged— matter of fact, he’s stroked a few ones out at the thought of you sucking him off. on your knees, pretty glossy doe eyes looking up at him while you struggle to take all of him in your mouth. it’s just that he’s always been a little shy. too embarrassed to ask you. it’s pathetic— hilarious even that a burly, bulking man of his stature couldn’t bring himself to ask his darling little wife something so simple. he was devoted to you. the man worshipped you. he knew his purpose. it was clear as day in fact. to service and care for you. to follow you like the smitten fool he was. he knew that he was meant for nothing else the moment he had laid his eyes on you. he was yours.

your husband’s putty once you begin leaving behind the softest of kisses down his chest and trembling stomach. the smell of his skin and the hushed whimpers every once in a while leaving his pretty lips dulling your senses. you had to pull away to admire the sight— your hungry eyes drinking in the mesmerizing sight of your man. the contour of his prominent muscles; the number of ruthless hours he’d managed to put into training never failed to impress you. the tank he wore now bunched up and resting on the swell of his pecs; buds glossed over with drool while his chest heaved with every shuddering breath he took, and god, the trail of thick hair leading down to his veiny lower abdomen.

he’s practically a pathetic puddle of moans and drool while you attempt to push another inch of his twitching length down your throat minutes later, the tuft of hair on his abdomen tickling your nose as your mouth painfully stretches to take in his fat girth. your tousled hair not going unnoticed as he begins to comb it back, chivalrous as ever while he holds it back with one shaky hand, the other draped over his burning face.

“ah, hnng..! fuuuuck… just—just like that, pretty…”

he drools out, a fucked out mess of groans and praises just for you as he bucks his shaky hips into your mouth involuntarily, apologizing hastily at the sound of your gagging. but oh, how you could practically live off this rare sight. your panties soaking wet at the sight of your husband selfishly chasing his high. you suck in your tear stained cheeks, hallowing them out as his fat leaky tip hits the back of your throat. you were no better than him; a slobbering, gagging perverted mess as you begin to massage and stroke the base of his wet cock.

“gonna… oh— oh, god… don’t… please, baby, i’m gonna…”

he strains out, his hips twitching up as his head presses back against the arm of the couch, his bulging biceps flexing from the iron grip he has on your hair as he thrusts into your mouth once more. you pull away from his thick girth to catch your breath, eliciting a whine that you swore had you ascending. sticky gloss and spit trailing down his cock and connecting from your lips as you push his cock against his tense stomach to lick at the veiny underside. you allow the tip of your tongue to massage against a vein before leaving behind sloppy kisses at the thick shaft down to his twitching balls. he jolts forward in shock, heels digging into the plush surface of the couch. the veins straining underneath the thin skin of his large hands, almost like they were ready to burst with how tight he fingers were interlocked with the roots of your hair.

he can barely control himself, at this point mindlessly babbling on about how lucky he is to have you, how much he loves you, how close he is to cumming. you begin to massage the base of his sticky cock once more before sliding the wet shaft past your lips, slurping shamelessly as you begin to bob your head back up and down. it doesn’t take another second before he shoots his thick load right down your warm, wet cavern. riding out his orgasm as you massage and you pull your head up with a pop, gasping for air as he begins to wipe at your mouth, praising you for taking him so well. he definitely didn’t mind a bit of spoiling here and there. especially from you.

⟢ reiner, erwin, choso, nanami, sendou, niou, noel, tokimitsu, yukimiya, diluc, sanji, zack, aki, vash, gris, sanemi + your favs . . (〃ω〃)

ᣟ៹ ❤︎៝ : first smut sweats .. can you tell i’m a sucker for big men who turn into a whimpering mess for you i’m sorry for any spelling mistakes in advance… i’ll check later after class !! （＾ω＾）