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inseobts · 3 months ago

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Unintentional couple behaviour

you two acts like a loving couple all the time, so what happens when someone points it out?

characters: luffy, kidd, katakuri, shanks and mihawk

(zoro, sanji, law, ace and sabo)

a/n: since a loooot asked for more, here I am eheh

words count: around 0.4k - 1.1k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

You don’t know when it started.

Maybe it was the way Luffy always stole food from your plate, but make sure to never let anyone else touch it.

Maybe it was how he always grabbed your hand first whenever the crew split up.

Maybe it was how he insisted on napping with you, his head always finding your lap, his arms always looping around you like a makeshift pillow.

Whatever it was, it had been going on for way too long. And the worst part is that you never questioned it.

Until now.

It starts with Sanji.

You’re sitting at the dinner table, picking at your food, when Sanji suddenly snorts “You two should just date already.”

You blink “…What?”

Sanji gestures between you and Luffy “You’re basically a couple anyway.”

You choke on your drink.

Luffy just tilts his head, mid-bite “Huh?”

Sanji raises an eyebrow “Seriously? You guys act like a couple all the time.”

You open your mouth to argue, to deny everything, but then Nami nods “He’s right, you know.”

Usopp grins “Yeah, I mean, have you even seen yourselves?”

Franky chuckles “Super obvious, bro.”

You stare. And then Zoro, of all people, grunts “They’re not wrong.”

Your brain short-circuits. Luffy just blinks at all of them, then turns to you “Wait… are we a couple?”

Your face burns “No!”

The crew groans.

“Oh, come on.”

“You’re in denial.”

“This is painful to watch.”

You glare “We’re just friends!”

Luffy nods “Yeah! Just friends!”

The crew stares. Then Brook smiles “Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked y/n out on a date?”

Silence.

Then Luffy’s fork snaps in half and the table goes dead quiet.

Luffy grins at Brook, but it’s not his usual happy-go-lucky grin. It’s the grin he wears before picking a fight.

“Yohoho,” Brook laughs nervously “Just kidding.”

Luffy hums, still smiling “Good.”

Your stomach flips because holy shit. That was jealousy. Luffy was jealous... Over you.

The realization haunts you for the rest of the night. Because if Luffy was jealous then what did that mean?

Did he actually—?

No.

No, this is Luffy. He’s just protective. That’s just who he is.

…Right?

You barely sleep, and the next morning you wake up to Luffy in your bed.

Sprawled across your mattress. Arms locked around your waist. Face buried in your shoulder.

Like it’s completely normal.

Like he always does this.

Your heart pounds.

Because—wait!

He does always do this. Every night. Every time you’re on the Sunny, he sneaks into your bed without even asking. And you never questioned it.

Because it was just Luffy.

But now everything feels different.

You slowly try to move, but his grip tightens.

“Mm… don’t go” he mumbles sleepily, lips brushing against your skin.

And that’s it. You lose it.

“LUFFY, WHAT ARE WE?!”

Luffy jerks awake “Huh—?”

“What are we?!” you repeat, flustered as hell.

Luffy rubs his eyes, confused “We’re us.”

You groan “That’s not an answer!”

He tilts his head “What do you mean?”

You gesture wildly “This! Us! The sleeping together! The hand-holding! The food-sharing!”

Luffy suddenly grins “Oh.”

Your heart stops “What do you mean, oh?”

Luffy laughs. And then, without hesitation, he leans in and kisses you.

Soft. Certain.

Like he’s been waiting to do it forever.

You freeze. Your brain short-circuits.

He pulls back, grinning “So? Are we a couple now?”

You gape “…WHAT?!”

Luffy just laughs “Well, we’ve basically been dating this whole time, right?”

Your eye twitches “AND YOU KNEW?!”

Luffy shrugs “I just thought you knew too.”

You sputter, because what the hell. What the actual hell. Luffy just decided you were dating. And you never even noticed.

You flop back onto the bed.

Luffy just grins, tugging you closer “You’re thinking too much” he mumbles, nuzzling against you.

Your heart races.

Your face is burning.

But… maybe the crew was right. Maybe you and Luffy were always meant to be.

Even if you were the last person to realize it.

── .✦ Eustass Kidd:

You’ve always known Kid was the stubborn type. He was gruff, intense, and always had that tough guy act. But lately, you’ve noticed something strange. The more you were around him, the more he didn’t seem to mind you being there. In fact, he almost seemed to expect it.

It starts with those small things, things he doesn’t think twice about. Like when you’re both sitting on the deck, and a gust of wind hits just as you’re about to stand. Before you can catch your balance, Kid’s hand shoots out, steadying you. He doesn’t say anything, but his grip lingers just long enough for you to notice.

“Watch it” he mutters, his usual gruff tone, but there’s something softer behind his eyes. You smile but say nothing. Killer, standing nearby, simply raises an eyebrow before looking away, smirking under his mask.

A few days later, when the crew is at port, you notice Kid keeping an eye on you more than usual. Every time someone gets too close or even bumps into you, his sharp gaze zeroes in, and he doesn’t hesitate to step in between you and whoever’s too close. At one point, a shady pirate from a different crew tries to flirt with you. Before you can even respond, Kid steps forward, pushing the pirate away with a low growl.

“Get lost.”

You blink, surprised at his intensity, but he doesn’t look at you, just at the pirate who’s now backing off.

“Kid, I can handle myself” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Doesn’t mean you should have to” he grumbles under his breath, clearly annoyed by something. He turns away before you can say anything else, muttering about how annoying it is to babysit you. But you know it’s not just that.

The crew knows it too.

Heat lets out a low whistle as he passes by “Damn, Captain, didn’t know you were the protective boyfriend type.”

Kid turns on him with a glare “Shut the hell up.”

Heat just laughs, walking away. You shake your head, but the warmth in your chest lingers.

Then, it all comes to a head one evening. The crew’s just finished a round of celebrations, the ship rocking gently in the quiet of the night. You’re leaning against the rail, enjoying the peace when you feel him behind you.

“Can’t sleep?” Kid asks, his voice low as usual.

You turn around, finding him standing there, arms crossed, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his scowling face.

“I could ask you the same thing” you reply.

There’s a quiet moment as you both stand there, not speaking. His eyes never leave yours, and the tension between you both seems to grow with every passing second.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching. Instinctively, you move closer to Kid. You don’t even think about it, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand shifts from where it was casually resting at his side to just hovering near your waist.

The ship creaks, the quiet atmosphere making you both more aware of each other’s presence. He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. His fingers are so close, just barely grazing your side as if to assure himself you’re right there.

The closeness feels… different. Intimate.

You glance up at him “Kid?” you ask softly, your heart beating a little faster.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead, his eyes flicker over your face, and you can see the internal struggle within him. It’s a battle, and for a second, you think he might just ignore it, keep up the stubborn front.

But then, his hand finally rests against your side. His touch isn’t harsh, but gentle. You don’t pull away.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this shit” he admits, his voice low but clear “But when it comes to you… I don’t want to risk something happening.”

You blink, surprised “Risk what?”

His gaze softens, and the gruffness in his tone fades away. He looks straight at you, the usual deflective annoyance replaced with something more vulnerable.

“I don’t want anyone else near you. Not after I saw that idiot trying to hit on you.”

You smile, your heart fluttering in your chest “Kid, I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“I know,” he replies quickly, but there’s no hiding the quiet affection in his voice now “I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and before you can even respond, something unspoken passes between you both. In a split second, his lips are near yours, and the kiss is soft, almost hesitant, like he’s still not sure if he’s allowed to show this side of himself.

But you kiss him back, your hand gently resting against his chest. The kiss lingers for a moment longer than either of you anticipated, but it feels like the world has paused, like this is the only thing that matters in that moment.

When you pull away, you both stand there in silence, but this time, it’s not awkward. It’s comfortable.

And then the moment is completely shattered by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You both snap your heads toward the entrance to the deck, where Killer and Wire are standing, watching with amused expressions.

“So,” Wire says, smirking, “you two finally gonna admit you’re basically married, or should we keep pretending this isn’t happening?”

Your face heats up immediately, but Kid just groans, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Go to hell” he grumbles.

Killer just shakes his head “Too late, Captain. Everyone’s been taking bets on when you’d figure it out.”

You gape “What?”

Wire grins “Yeah. Heat won. He said you’d kiss before the next port. Guess we owe him a round of drinks.”

Kid looks absolutely done. You, on the other hand, can’t help but laugh. Because honestly? It’s not surprising.

You look back up at Kid, who’s still scowling but isn’t pulling away from you. You squeeze his hand briefly before grinning.

“Guess we were the last ones to know, huh?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, but there’s no real annoyance in his expression anymore. Just acceptance. And maybe, just maybe, the start of something real.

── .✦ Red-Haired Shanks:

Being part of the Red Hair Pirates meant living in a constant mess of drinking, laughing, and reckless adventures.

And somehow you ended up being the most responsible one. Which was probably why everyone assumed you and Shanks were together.

The problem?

You weren’t.

But apparently, no one got the memo.

It starts with Yasopp.

You’re in the middle of patching up Shanks’ arm because, once again, he got into a bar fight for fun, when Yasopp smirks at you from across the deck.

“You know,” he says casually, “you’re basically married to him at this point.”

You nearly stab Shanks with the needle.

“What?!”

Shanks, meanwhile, just laughs.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even deny it.

“C’mon,” Yasopp continues, “you take care of him, clean up after him, yell at him when he’s reckless...”

“I yell at all of you.”

“Yeah, but you baby him.”

Shanks grins “It’s true. You do.”

You glare “I do not.”

Shanks just shrugs “If you say so.”

And that should be the end of it. But it’s not.

Because after that the whole crew starts treating you like... ugh.

“Oi, Y/N! Can you grab Shanks another drink?”

“Y/N, tell the captain to stop picking fights with Marines again.”

“Hey, Y/N, Shanks says he wants something spicy, maybe you could help... and it's not about food”

You want to scream.

But Shanks?

Shanks just goes along with it. Smiling. Laughing. Letting everyone assume you’re his.

And the worst part is that you let them, because deep down you don’t hate the idea.

And that’s dangerous.

Then one night, it all clicks.

You’re sitting at a bonfire, surrounded by the crew, listening to them sing and drink and bicker over who can hold their liquor best.

You’re not paying attention until you hear your name.

“So, Captain,” Lucky Roux says, “when’s the wedding?”

You choke on your drink. But before you can argue, Shanks just grins.

“Oh, give it time.”

The crew erupts into laughter.

You just stare at him.

Because... what????

Shanks turns to you, smiling like he didn’t just casually imply he plans on marrying you.

And something in his expression—

Something warm. Something knowing.

It hits you all at once.

The hand-holding. The lingering touches. The way he always pulls you onto his lap when there’s no room to sit.

The way he lets you fuss over him when he gets hurt, the way he only ever listens to you.

The way he looks at you like you’re something precious.

Your heart pounds.

And Shanks just grins against your lips.

“Took you long enough” he murmurs.

And when you pull back, breathless, flustered, you realize that maybe you’ve been his this whole time.

You blink, heart still racing as the weight of his words settles in. The laughter of the crew fades into background noise, the warmth of the bonfire casting flickering shadows over Shanks’ face. He’s watching you, waiting, like he already knows the answer, like he’s known it for years.

And maybe he has.

Maybe he’s been waiting for you to catch up.

Your throat is dry. You open your mouth, but no words come out, just a strangled sound of disbelief.

Shanks chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners “You alright there, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he hasn’t just upended everything you thought you knew.

Your hands tighten in his shirt, and you can’t tell if it’s to ground yourself or to pull him closer “You...” you swallow, voice quieter now, meant just for him “You should’ve said something...”

He tilts his head, considering “I thought I did. Plenty of times.”

You scowl, smacking his chest lightly, which only makes him laugh “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, I know.” His fingers brush your jaw, featherlight, reverent “I just like seeing you all flustered.”

You groan, but you don’t pull away. And well, that says everything, doesn’t it?

And Shanks knows it too, because his grin softens, something unreadable flickering in his gaze “So,” he murmurs, close enough that his breath tickles your lips, “now that you’ve finally figured it out, what do you plan to do about it?”

The challenge is there, teasing, but there’s something raw beneath it, something real.

You take a breath. Then, before you can overthink it, you grab the front of his coat and pull him in, kissing him again, firmer this time.

The crew erupts in cheers. Someone whistles. Someone else yells about winning a bet.

But all you can focus on is the way Shanks smiles against your lips, like he’s just won something far more important.

And maybe you have too.

── .✦ Charlotte Katakuri:

The first time someone calls you Katakuri’s spouse, you nearly drop your mochi donut.

“Excuse me, what?”

The Big Mom Pirates stare at you like you’re stupid.

“Well, yeah,” Oven says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “You take care of him, he lets you into his tea time, you’re the only one who sees his face—”

Brûlée smirks “And you always defend him when people talk behind his back.”

Daifuku nods “Might as well be married already.”

You sputter “That doesn’t mean—! We’re not—! He’s just my commander!”

Oven raises an eyebrow “You ever see Katakuri treat anyone else the way he treats you?”

You freeze.

Because... okay.

That’s a good point.

Katakuri isn’t exactly warm with people. He’s respected, feared, distant. A perfectionist. The strongest Sweet Commander.

And yet, with you?

He lets you tease him. Lets you see him.

Lets you in.

Your stomach flips.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

You try to forget about it.

But after that you start noticing things.

The way Katakuri always saves you the best snacks at tea time.

The way he steps in front of you during battles without thinking.

The way he lets you touch him, his arm, his back, his face.

His unguarded moments are always with you.

And suddenly you can’t ignore it.

Neither can the crew.

It all comes to a head one evening.

You’re sitting with Katakuri in his usual spot, tea cooling beside him, the setting sun casting a warm glow over his sharp features. He’s eating, as usual, but his guard is down because you’re here.

And then the words slip out.

“…Katakuri.”

He glances at you, chewing “Hm?”

You hesitate. Then screw it.

“Are we… something?”

Katakuri pauses.

Slowly, he sets his cup down. Then he exhales, like he’s been waiting for this.

“You tell me,” he says, voice steady “Would it bother you if we were?”

Your heart pounds. Because no, it wouldn’t.

You swallow “No.”

Katakuri watches you for a long moment. Then, he smirks.

“Then I suppose we are.”

Your brain short-circuits.

“Wait—WHAT?!”

Katakuri chuckles, low and deep “Did you really think I’d let just anyone this close to me?”

You gasp, because hold on. Has he known this whole time?!

Your face burns “You could’ve said something sooner, you jerk!”

Katakuri just leans closer, his presence overwhelming.

“…Would you have been ready to hear it?”

You freeze, because damn it.

He’s right.

── .✦ Dracule Mihawk:

Living on Kuraigana Island with Mihawk isn’t easy, but somehow, you get used to it.

You get used to the silence. The way he watches you over the rim of his wine glass. The way he corrects your sword stance with the barest touch of his fingers.

You get used to the way he does things for you without asking, bringing you an extra plate at meals, fixing your sword when it’s damaged, moving his coat so you don’t sit on the cold stone steps.

It’s just how he is... Or so you think.

Until one day Perona stares at the two of you across the dining table and snorts.

“You guys act like a married couple.”

You choke on your drink. Mihawk just raises an eyebrow.

Perona grins “Oh, come on! You live together, train together, eat together—hell, you even drink out of each other’s cups sometimes!”

You freeze.

Because—wait. When did that start happening?!

You sneak a glance at Mihawk, expecting him to argue.

But instead, he just takes a sip of wine and says, “And?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because what does he mean, ‘and’?!

Perona cackles “Oh, this is gold.”

Meanwhile, you’re too busy spiraling to notice the small, knowing smirk on Mihawk’s lips.

Because the truth is, he knew all along.

The next few days pass in a strange haze. Every time you’re near Mihawk, you’re hyper-aware of his actions. The way he hands you your sword when it’s too heavy for you to lift properly, the way he adjusts your stance when you’re practicing, even the way he leaves his wine glass half-filled so you can sip it without asking.

You can’t help but start noticing the little things. And it makes your stomach do these strange little flips you can’t quite explain.

You try to convince yourself that you’re just overthinking it. After all, you’ve spent so much time together, working side-by-side, that it’s only natural for him to be a bit… attentive. But you can’t help but feel that there’s more to it than that.

One evening, you’re training in the yard. Mihawk is watching from the porch, as usual, but today there’s something different in the air. Maybe it’s the cool breeze, or the strange feeling of him staring at you.

“Focus” he calls out when you fumble with your sword.

You grit your teeth and refocus, sweat already beading on your forehead. Your movements become sharper, more determined, but you can’t quite shake the feeling that something is… off.

When you finish the routine, Mihawk’s still leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his gaze. You give him a quick, sideways glance, noticing the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Something wrong?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

His response comes as a slow, deliberate drawl “You still aren’t quite in sync with your sword. I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

You feel your face flush, but you push through it “Yeah? Well, I’m not some grandmaster swordsman like you, Mihawk.”

He steps closer, his presence almost overwhelming, but his gaze softens for a moment “You’re getting better. I’m simply making sure you don’t lose track of your progress.”

The softness in his voice catches you off-guard, and for a split second, you feel as if you’re standing on the edge of something, something new.

But you quickly push it aside, shaking it off as just another passing thought. You turn to grab your sword again, determined to change the subject.

“Thanks for the help,” you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady “But I think I need a break. My arms are sore.”

Mihawk doesn’t respond at first. Instead, he merely watches you for a moment before he speaks again, his tone unusually gentle.

“Are you sure you’re fine? You’ve been training for hours without rest.”

You give him a small, appreciative nod “I’ll be fine. You’re too used to looking out for me, Mihawk.”

He lets out a faint chuckle, but you notice that there’s a strange intensity in his gaze now “I suppose I am.”

Before you can react, you feel something slightly off, a flicker of tension between you two.

It’s subtle, but it’s there. And you feel it in the way he looks at you, the way he almost seems to be waiting for you to say something.

But, just like that, the moment passes. He steps back, motioning for you to take a rest.

“I’ll prepare dinner,” he says quietly, as if nothing had happened “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

You blink “You cook?”

“Of course,” he says with a slight, almost invisible smirk “It’s not difficult, and you’ve been working hard all day. You deserve a proper meal.”

You feel your heart race at his words, but you manage to keep it together “Alright, I’ll take you up on that.”

But as Mihawk turns to walk away, you pause.

For just a second, you wonder... has this always been a normal interaction between you two? Or has it grown into something more without you even realizing it?

The unease gnaws at you as you sit down on the steps, watching him disappear into the house.

You’re overthinking it. You’re just friends.

...Right?

Later that evening, you’re sitting across from Mihawk, your meal already finished. The conversation is easy, but there’s still that lingering, unspoken tension hanging in the air.

Finally, Mihawk breaks the silence, his voice low and casual “You’ve been avoiding the subject.”

Your brow furrows in confusion “What subject?”

“The subject of us.”

You choke on your drink, sputtering “What—us?!”

His expression remains unreadable, but there’s a faint glimmer in his eyes “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been acting strange around me lately. Ever since Perona made her comment.”

You freeze “I—uh—”

“Let’s stop pretending,” he continues “We’ve been behaving like a couple, whether we admit it or not.”

Your heart starts to race. You open your mouth to deny it, but the words get stuck. Instead, you just stare at him, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

And that’s when Mihawk leans forward just slightly, his voice dropping lower “I don’t know what you’re feeling, but I do know that I don’t want you to leave.”

The bluntness of his words takes your breath away.

“I never planned to leave” you manage to say, the words barely leaving your lips.

Mihawk gives you a rare, genuine smile, one that’s so small and almost imperceptible that you’re not sure you saw it at all. But something in his eyes shifts.

“Good.”

And just like that, the tension finally breaks.

You’re not sure where this will go. But for now, you’re content to just be here with him, uncertain, but sure of one thing: neither of you are going anywhere.

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tonycries · 1 year ago

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Men In Uniform F*ck Better!

Synopsis. You want him and you want him now. It doesn’t matter if you have to fúck him in his uniform - in fact, it just might make it better.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] professor! Gojo x Reader, yakuza boss! Sukuna x Reader, calligrapher! Geto x Reader, baker! Nanami x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, no curses! AU, oral (male + female receiving), men at work, manhandling, marking, slight gúnplay, degradation, smacking, choking, Sukuna is mean but he’s a yakuza boss so, spitting, semi-public, brat-taming, bunch of heinous stuff idek, cúmplay, slight foodplay, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.6k

A/N. Was gonna add Choso and Toji but this got too long, dw I’ll make separate ones about them later <3

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The baker

Watching Nanami Kento at work could make even the most ardent non-believers worship God.

Kneading. Spreading. Every motion of his strong hands deliberate and purposeful. Muscles rippling in his forearms with each movement.

You watch - almost hypnotized - as the devilishly handsome baker at your favorite bakery prepares his dough for tomorrow. By God were you glad you managed to bat your lashes just enough to convince him to let you stay after closing - for educational purposes, of course.

Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily as long fingers sink deep into the dough, squeezing. Pulling. Teasing. A delicate bead of sweat trickling down between his furrowed brows and disappearing enticingly between those chiseled collarbones. Oh, how you wished it was you under his hands instead.

“How long’s it gonna take? I see the way you’re watching me, y’know.”

A low rumble breaks the silence, sending tremors down your spine - all the way to your already-heated cunt. Eyes snapping up to meet Nanami’s darkened ones, your face burns at being caught red-handed. Stammering out excuses, “W-wha- I didn’t-”

Soft dough now forgotten, he steps closer, presence overwhelming, dominating the space around you. “Always do. Watching me with such slutty eyes.” Low words that make your pussy throb. You’re dumbfounded by his eyes, intense and stripping - making you feel so exposed and vulnerable before him.

In the dimly lit kitchen, the tension is palpable. You can’t help but lean into his presence, standing toe-to-toe with his muscled front.

With a slight smirk curling his lips, Nanami leans in, his breath warm against your ear and making you shudder in anticipation. “But don’t worry, darling. I like it.”

They’re the last words said before he pulls you into a searing kiss, a hand tight around your neck, neat fingernails digging into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him as his tongue demands entry, intertwining with yours. It’s possessive, it’s feral - and tastes oh so very sweet - just like his delicate pastries.

Nanami breathes you in like a man starved. A desperation that carries into your frantic fingers untying that godforsaken apron.

And in his steady hands as they lift you up as if you weigh nothing, fingers groping and kneading your ass as he seats you on the kitchen counter. The surface cold under where your skirt was messily bunched up. “Mm- hngh- please, Nanami.”

Pulling away with a final bite to your lower lip, he leaves a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down your body that send chills racing through you, and have your thighs rubbing together for an ounce of friction.

“Tch” Of course, he wasn’t a fan. Grip bruising, manhandling your legs open so shamefully, he splays you out deliciously for him. Nanami’s greedy gaze devours the sinful way your dripping cunt leaks through your thin panties - ones you wore especially for him.

Seems he knew too, pushing his glasses up contemplatively before dropping onto his knees with a fucked out oh. “Always knew you were naughty, darling, but to be such a slut? Driving me crazy, hm?” his voice thick with desire and whispered mere millimeters away from your swollen folds.

Moaning softly, you arch your back into the warm breath hitting your quivering cunt, whining out an embarrassed “Noo- only for you, Nanami.”

“Oh yeah?” Huffing out a dark chuckle, he all but rips off your soaked panties. The tattered fabric stark against the sterile floor. You gasp at the cold air that hits your heated cunt - but not for long, because Nanami’s hot mouth is on it like a man dying of thirst.

Nose-deep in your pussy, the cold metal of his glasses makes you flinch in sensitivity. His hands spread your cunt bruisingly, letting his tongue bully it’s way past your folds, urgently lapping at your juices as if you were the sweetest damn thing he’s ever tasted.

Chin hitting your cunt, nose rubbing against your pulsing clit, he makes out with your sloppy pussy in methodical, merciless movements of his tongue that have you keening and bucking your hips for more more more.

Looking up at you over his glasses, his hungry gaze devours your half-lidded eyes, the grip searing on his hair, and the whimpers of his name leaving your swollen lips just as greedily as the mouth on your slutty cunt.

“Wanted this right, darling?” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Vibrations making slick bead out of your cunt and pool onto his waiting lips. “Wanted to break under my hands?”

“Yes. Yes, yes yes, s’all I’ve wanted.” teary whimpers leave your bruised lips, you craved the sting of his hands, the burn of his fingers. Your hips buck uncontrollably, grinding yourself against his mouth as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Hands now groping every inch of skin he could find, leaving pretty purple marks that remind you of his mouth-watering pies.

Exploring every curve and valley, bending you to his will, languid where his tongue was merciless. Savoring you. Groping your breasts, squeezing your ass, as if he wanted everything all at once.

Your entire body was sore now. Cunt throbbing in sympathy with the tender flesh. Marks littering your skin as if you’d been thrown to the wolves. Ah, all these weeks you’d been right - heaven really was in Nanami Kento’s hands. And right now you were putty in them.

He grasped your thighs, squeezing them roughly and lifting them higher, opening you wider for his unforgiving pace. Clearly enjoying the way your face contorted in pain and pleasure, Kento slipped a finger inside you. One. Then two. Stretching you to your limits. Spreading open your already-stretched entrance further.

His fingers frantic now, fucked-out, jerky movements. Wilder. Animalistic. Driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Open your mouth.”

You listen - drunk on his tongue as yours lolls out so lewdly. The taste hits you before the realization - sweet sugar and the taste of you on your tongue as two thick fingers are shoved into your mouth. They reach the back of your throat, pressing hard onto your tongue. You force yourself to fight off the gagging as some animalistic part of you sucks desperately on them for the sweet, sweet taste.

“Almost as sweet as you.” Nanami groans, words muffled into your cunt and sending white-hot pleasure racing up your spine. Words hanging in the air, he speeds up the movements of his mouth, frantic movements matching your need for more.

Your climax hits you with a jolt, cumming till you see stars behind your eyes. Maybe it was his words, maybe it was the way his tongue quirked just right on your throbbing clit to make you throw your head back as you fell apart underneath him.

“Hngh- Oh fuck, Nanami. M’cum- cumming!” you whine, grinding your cunt down impossibly harder on his pretty face. Fingers tangled in his silky blond locks as you force him deeper, riding out your high greedily.

You’re still dazed - vision blurry as Nanami pulls away from your cunt with a lewd squelch! getting up from his position kneeling on the floor. “So delicious on m’tongue, darling.”

Devastatingly handsome face flushed, breaths ragged, muscled front now pressing against your sinfully spread legs. And in your orgasm-hazed mind you still manage to hear the arousing clink of a belt unbuckling, and the metallic screech against marble of the nearby bowl of your favorite frosting being pulled closer. White - to match the precum dribbling down his leaking cock.

The distinct feeling of something wet and achingly hard against your needy cunt.

Oh. Ah, it really was a sweet, sweet life.

♡ GETO SUGURU - The calligrapher

You didn’t exactly think the live calligraphy show your friend dragged you to was about to have you on the edge of your seat.

But here you were.

Eyes locked on the way the tall figure onstage, clad in a dark yukata - sinfully slipping off to reveal a milky, toned shoulder. Geto Suguru exudes an air of raw sexuality that the entire audience was aware of, eyes not being able to decide between the masterpiece on the canvas or the masterpiece of a man on stage.

His fingers, long and agile, effortlessly over the bamboo pen. Each stroke a sensual caress, dark eyes pools of desire that match his long, flowing locks, and the inky characters on the page.

Chest heaving with passion, with a final, dramatic sweep of his arm, Geto completes the last stroke. And as the audience erupts into applause, you merely stay rooted to your seat, thighs pressing together and breath caught in your throat - only one thought ringing in your mind.

You just had to have him.

Which is why you found yourself following your friend to the chaotic atmosphere backstage. But despite the buzz of activity, you could still hear Geto’s deep, velvety voice carrying through the crowd.

Pushing through the sea of people, “Ah! Long time no see, Geto-san. This is my friend, she really enjoyed your performance tonight,” your friend introduced, gesturing towards you.

Eyes gleaming he turns to you, “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, I enjoyed it very much.” you grin, batting your lashes. Relishing in the way Geto’s dark eyes appraise you from head to toe. Taking in every inch of you - and you do the same.

Geto’s eyes harden, as if deciding on something. “I’m flattered. Why don’t you two lovely ladies join me for some drinks with the crew?”

Yeah, you had to have him - you just didn’t think that would be so easy.

Walls lined with paintings, the scent of ink and sin hung heavy in the air, as you two snuck away from the animated group downing celebratory shots. Geto’s hand hot in yours as he leads you down a dimly-lit corridor to “his favorite lil’ spot”, as he’d whispered to you.

You could tell you were getting closer - because Geto promptly pulls you closer, hands grasping your waist possessively.

“No turning back now, pretty girl.” he whispers, breath hot against your ear.

“S’all I want, Suguru.” you mutter, desire coursing through you like a wildfire, pooling into something sticky and hot at your cunt.

Perhaps seeing the pure, feral need in your eyes, Suguru murmurs, leaving no room for disagreement now, “Follow me.”

The room he led you to was heady with seductive candles, beautiful artwork lining the walls. His own - you assume, as Suguru leads you to a low wooden table in the center of the room. On it is a bottle of sake and two cups.

Movements fluid and precise, Suguru pours the sake, filling it to the brim. He hands it to you, eyes never leaving your face. “Drink up, pretty girl.” he hums, low and seductive. And honestly fuck stranger danger, how could you not when he looks at you like that?

So you drink, sake burning its way down your throat. Predatory eyes locked on you as you set down the cup, Suguru’s mouth quirks up into a sly grin around his as he asks, “Liked it?”

You’ve barely gotten out the nod - not trusting yourself to speak - before Suguru downs his shot abruptly, slamming down the cup with a thunk!

Lips parting slightly, slender fingers squish your cheeks together into an almost-embarrasing pout. Forcing you to look up at him with an almost predatory grace as he looms closer. You don’t know if you should’ve expected the steady, warm stream of sake and saliva that hits your tongue. Sliding so obscenely down your throat.

Guess Suguru Geto was filthy in bed where he was the embodiment of grace in public.

It’s sweet on your tongue - both the sake and Suguru.

Eyes glassy, a mixture of sake and drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth - Suguru really can’t help the lips that come crashing down on yours, tongue plunging deep into your mouth. His tongue was relentless, keeping yours intertwined in a heady kiss.

Arms wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to his heated body. Hands tugging on your hair, mapping your curves. All the way up to cup your breasts, thumbs running tight, little circles around your perked nipples.

You moan into the heated kiss as something rock-hard pokes your thigh. Hand greedily grabbing at his yukata with the need for more.

Breaking the kiss, Suguru’s breaths come in ragged gasps. “On your knees, pretty girl.”

And what Geto Suguru wants, Geto Suguru gets.

Which is why you were sat, eyes hungry and greedily watching the way Suguru slowly, and deliberately peels open the front of his yukata, exposing his toned torso. A sly grin curling his lips at you gape at his leaking cock, standing proud and achingly hard. Thick and unforgiving.

Fuck, could you really take him in your mouth? He was at least twice as big as anyone else you’ve been with before…

“Open.” he orders, voice low and commanding and making your cunt clench so deliciously in anticipation. Suguru’s flushed tip pokes your lips - glossy with sake and saliva - precum salty on your tongue. God, he was huge. Parting your mouth wider, lips stretching around his length you desperately try to fuck him into your mouth - eager to please.

But it just wasn’t enough.

Because Suguru has a searing grip on your hair, holding your head steady as he pushed his cock all the way down your throat. Delicate veins throbbing against the roof of your mouth as he starts up a steady, merciless pace fucking your mouth as if you were nothing but a fucktoy.

“C’mon now, you said s’all you want. Better act like it, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly, pushing you impossibly further down so that your nose presses into the tufts of thick, black hair at his pelvis. Like delicate strokes of a fine art. Breathing in the heady, masculine scent so sinfully.

This man is a masterpiece, you think deliriously - completely cock-drunk as you gag around his length, eyes burning at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. Over and over. A ceaseless cadence you were losing your mind to.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, jus’ like that.” he hisses, as you tongue at his slit. Fingers deftly pressing around your neck to feel his dick ramming down your throat.

The once-serene room rings with your pathetic, wet gurgles around Suguru’s cock and the smacking of skin on skin as his heavy balls hit your chin. “Take it, take it all.”

You moan, body arching as you claw at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Nails digging neat lines down his milky skin. Balls tightening, he thrusts animalistically into your mouth, each one deeper and harder than the last, cock sliding in and out of you brutally.

Messy.

Saliva and precum drip down his length, dirtying his yukata. Tears streak down your cheeks onto Suguru’s wrist, fingers tightening ferally around your throat. Blood roaring in your ears, choking at both the throbbing cock and the hand blocking your airway.

It was so fucking messy.

So it only made sense that Suguru’s orgasm was the same.

With a guttural cry of your name, Suguru came in hot spurts of cum, shooting rope after rope down your ready throat as his cock pulsed and stuttered in your mouth. You felt so dirty, his seed pooling on your tongue.

But he wasn’t done - no, far from it - pulling out from your abused mouth with a lewd pop! Twitching cock heavy on your face as he paints your face white. Hips bucking deliriously, a smug smirk playing on his lips at his masterpiece.

Face and mouth covered in his cum, fucked out enough that you basically had heart eyes looking at Suguru, you ready yourself to swallow it all. Needing to taste Suguru immediately.

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want.

Because Suguru drops to his knees, hand still tight around your throat as he captures your lips with his. Teeth clashing, lips bruising, forcing his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself. Tasting you. It was absolutely animalistic.

A barely-lucid, disappointed whine leaves your swollen lips as he pulls away. Only to spit once. Twice. Three times on your face.

You flinch as wads of saliva and his cum hit your face, warm and dripping down your cheeks. Staining the pristine tatami mats below as they fall with a resounding tap! tap! tap!

And you gladly offer yourself up for the abuse. A fucked out smile spreading across your face as you take in the feeling of being so debauched by Suguru. Somewhat-delirious, you barely register the dark mutter against your ear, “Hope you’re not tapping out yet, pretty girl. I haven’t even gotten out my paintbrushes yet.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The yakuza boss

“Strip.”

Standing in the dimly lit room, red-hot irritation flashes behind your eyes as you bristle at the words falling out of his mouth - devastatingly handsome had it not been for that smug, leering smirk.

Eyes half-lidded, long legs spread on that gaudy armchair, smoke falling from Sukuna’s lips as he stares at you intently. Eyes piercing through yours over his cigar. Demanding compliance.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you rip your gaze from his, flitting panickedly between the imposing yakuza boss in front of you - all alluring tattoos, and heavy, gold rings - and the glinting pistol that lay silently on one, muscular thigh.

You can feel the heat of his gaze burning into your skin as your hands tremble, fumbling with those tedious buttons. Breathing heavy, nipples hardening - your top hits the floor. God, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into.

Cursing your father’s debt, you move on to your pants. Desperately trying to avoid catching a glimpse of those blown-out pupils, something prickly and hot pooling in your stomach. Shit. You won’t start liking this - you refuse to start liking this.

One by one, it falls away. Leaving you bare and completely exposed under Sukuna’s intense scrutiny. A low growl escapes his lips at the way your thighs clench together so sinfully, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“Come here, doll.” Low, raspy words that go straight to your cunt. But you steel yourself, heels clacking against the polished floor as you step closer. And closer. Watching the way he drinks in your naked form.

But apparently too slow.

Before you can even react, a muscled arm reaches out, pulling you to fall into his waiting lap, straddling those toned hips. A jolt of electricity going through your body as you register the cold metal of the gun digging into your leg.

Sukuna leans forward, the scent of tobacco and sin overwhelming your senses. “Dance f’me.”

Shit. How dare he talk to you this way - and how dare you let your pussy clench in anticipation at his demeaning tone.

Biting back a groan at the way your hardened nipples brush against his button-up, you tentatively roll your hips forward. A thrill going straight to your pussy as something long and thick presses against you. Involuntarily, you press closer, grinding against him. Hard.

Large, calloused hands find your ass. Squeezing roughly to pull you closer, rocking your hips back and forth on his throbbing erection. Back and forth back and forth back and-

Cool metal pressed against your skin - the barrel of his glinting gun pressed lightly against your forehead. Goosebumps erupt down your spine, painfully prickling at your skin as you realize just what the fuck he was doing. “As much as I love you humping me like a bitch in heat, doll. I asked you to dance f’me.” he murmurs, tone was positively dripping with something dark and dangerous.

Well, you think, gritting your teeth in determination. Might as well give the bastard what he asks for.

Staring defiantly right into those darkened, intense eyes, you begin moving your body agonizingly slow. Hands tantalizingly tracing the outline of your body. Teasingly caressing the skin, sliding your fingers along your collarbone, down your rib cage, grazing your navel before slithering lower. Lower.

Your soaked cunt forming a wet patch right on his straining erection.

Sukuna’s eyes follow your every move - every circle of your hips down on his throbbing bulge. The corner of his mouth curving into a satisfied smile as he takes in the sight of you so sinful and shamefully exposed for him.

The desire simmering beneath his composed exterior is basically palpable.

And then, it snaps.

Suddenly, his arm snaps up, grabbing bruisingly at your waist. With a slow, deliberate motion, he takes a long drag of his cigar - blowing the smoke right in your face, the warm breath mingling with the heady air.

Your surprised gasp is swallowed by his heated kiss, tongues wrestling as a hand digs into the tender skin of your neck. As if he owns you.

Hips bucking wildly, and more frantically on Sukuna’s clothed cock - the expensive fabric of his pants now wet with your slick and his precum. You lose yourself in the moment.

But what you do register is the sharp unzipping of his pants.

Snapping your eyes open, they meet with the large, leaking cock now pulsing in his hands, prominent veins glistening with precum that dribbles down his flushed head. Pulling away, you rip your gaze from his throbbing erection to look in his eyes - with what, fear? Anticipation? Both?

Sukuna lounges back on his armchair leisurely, relishing the way you watch - somewhat-awestruck - as his large hand begins moving in small, unhurried motions up and down his rock-hard length.

A harsh push of the barrel against your forehead snaps you out of your debauched reverie. “Didn’t tell ya to stop, did I, doll?” he hisses out, venomous and needy.

The tension in the room is almost tangible, the air thick with lust and fear. As you watch the rhythmic jerks of Sukuna’s hand on his erect cock - up and down up and down up and- your body betrays you.

Mind hazy with arousal, you place your hands on his shoulders, cunt clenching at the strong, defined muscle beneath your fingertips. You lean forward, lips meeting his in a desperate, desperate kiss.

Pulling away, you reach for his heavy cock, wrapping your fingers around it, feeling it’s thickness and the heat. Sukuna lets out a low growl, eyes closing momentarily as you begin to stroke him in urgent, desperate tugs that have his hips bucking involuntarily.

As you let him fuck your fist like his own personal fleshlight, you grind down against his thigh. Hard. His tight, twitching ball stimulating your clit just right as you get yourself off on Sukuna like a bitch in heat.

Maybe it was the pure feral need in your hazy eyes - or maybe it was the way you lean your head into the gun pressing against your forehead - but Sukuna’s eyes widen, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. Only growing more amused by the second as you lean impossibly closer to take the cigar from his hand, placing it between your lips.

Drawing deeply, inhaling the sweet, rich flavor of the tobacco. As you exhale, you deliberately blow the smoke into his face, the tendrils of vapor swirling around his beautiful features, mixing with the sweat and the scent of his cologne.

A deep bark of laughter makes Sukuna throw his head back - and you to clench around nothing on his lap. Hips becoming more and more animalistic against his. Your wrist now aching and wet with precum, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off.

Sukuna wraps his arm around you, pulling you close, his hand cupping your breast possessively. The other surges back with the gun on your forehead - where it had been faltering from pleasure before. “Make us come within the next five seconds before I blow your head off, doll.”

One.

Your fingers tighten around his cock, milking him. Movements from both ends become more and more filthy with the need to release.

Two.

You cup his heavy balls in your hands, clit catching on his zipper and making you mewl at the stimulation.

Three.

A thumb pressing down between his balls, hard. Hips stuttering with your impending release, losing your mind with each stroke.

Four.

Sukuna body goes rigid, choking on what sounds like your name, bottom lip catching between his teeth as he throws his head back and-

Five.

Cums all over your fist, thick, hot spurts of seed that paint your hands white. Splattering on your palm, and onto the chair below. You not too far behind as your body bows into his, stars behind your eyes as you chase peak after peak grinding down on his lap. You shudder, release taking everything out of you until it’s nothing more than mere tingles.

A finger on the trigger. Pulling.

Click!

As Sukuna’s maniacal laughter rings in the heady room, you blink away the haze of your orgasm as you realizing with a jolt that there were no fucking bullets.

Yet this bastard shot you anyway.

Skin heated against yours, lips ghosting your ear as Sukuna whispers. Low and gravelly.

“I don’t need a gun to kill, doll.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - The professor

“You see, I really, really need this A to pass, sir.” you bat your lashes innocently, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet.

Short skirt hiking up as you lean over the desk in Professor Gojo’s stuffy office. Making sure that tight top you purposefully wore lets those striking blue eyes see a perfect view of your breasts - no bra today, of course.

Eyes flickering down. Once. Twice.

Success.

Yet, Professor Gojo’s easy grin stays steadfast, “Well, maybe you should have studied harder then, hm?” You’d almost be fooled by his little act, yet your eyes catch the way he subtly crosses his legs, something stirring in those alluring cerulean eyes as he looks up at you through his lashes.

Deciding to play along, huffing as you cross your arms across your chest, “I did, maybe you should just let me take on an assignment for extra credit.”

His eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows raising in question, “What kind of assignment?”

You bite your lips coyly, holding back a smirk at the way he makes it so easy for you. Reaching out immediately to trace a thumb across his full lips, leaning down far enough that your tits were basically spilling out of your top now.

“The one where you fuck me, right here. Right now, on this desk.”

You could feel his pulse quickening against your hand, voice strained with need. “I should fail you right now for this.”

Brushing your lips against his earlobe, you whisper, “But you won’t, sir.”

Before you can react, in one, fluid motion strong arms lift you off the desk to splay you out so sinfully on it. You almost get whiplash from his pure strength, brought back only by the feeling of his muscular thighs warm against your ass.

“If you want that A, then prove how badly you need it.”

Your heart races as you nod, cheeks flaring with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. With a feral grin, you spread your legs apart, toying with that soaked g-string - exposing your bare pussy. Beads of slick pooling underneath you on the desk as the way Gojo’s eyes harden as you clench around nothing.

You trail your hands enticingly down, down down. A delicate finger swiping at your folds, collecting your juices - popping right into your mouth. A smug huff of laughter leaves you at the way Gojo’s mouth drops into a surprised oh!

“You’re such a lil’ fucking minx, princess.”

You needed him now.

Rubbing your thumb over your swollen clit, index finger bullying its way into your snug cunt the way you wanted Gojo to. You gasp, arching your back as waves of pleasure, “Oh, sir! Mmm- feel s’good inside me. Want more- hah-”

Pornographic whines of pleasure send blood rushing straight to Gojo’s cock. He was losing his mind at your little show. He was going insane.

“Your turn now.” you mewl,

Your hungry gaze was locked with Gojo’s as he stands, removing his belt and unbuckling his pants. Your eyes follow the movement greedily, mouth watering at the impressive size of his erection. Leaking tip furiously flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Delicate beads of precum smearing on the frantic, jerky movements of his fist up and down and up and down and-

It’s a silent staredown. Your fingers matching the delicious rhythm of his fist, urgently fucking yourselves to each other. Trying to see who would break first. Up and down up and down - in and out in and out. Faster.

“Didn’t think you were all talk, sir.”

That’s what makes the great Gojo Satoru break. Surging forward in hasty steps, your hands pinned to the cold surface of the desk, pussy now quivering in loneliness.

Smack!

“Count to five, then I’ll give what you want. If you can’t even do that then I don’t think you deserve an A, princess.”

“O-one.” You whine at the harsh hand that smacks your ass, large handprint stinging into your searing skin.

“This the hand?” Gojo whispers, voice ragged. Inspecting your hands before his tongue sticks out to lick a long, languid stripe up your fingers, pooling your juices on his tongue. Pretty blue eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licks your fingers clean so filthily.

Electricity courses through your veins as his long fingers deftly rip off your flimsy g-string, pocketing it safely in his work pants. You have half the mind to snark about it before you register Gojo’s throbbing cock flush against your pussy, leaking tip teasing in between your dripping folds leisurely.

Your slick mixing with his precum, trailing down down down his glistening length, pooling on where he tightly gripped his base - splattering onto the hardwood office floor with a deafening tap! tap! tap! that matched the heartbeat in your ears.

“Beg for it, princess.”

“Hmmm, no.”

Smack! Smack!

“Ah! Three! Hah- please, sir.”

You didn’t even know exactly what you were begging for - but you got exactly what you wanted. Breath catching in your throat at the way Gojo pushed into you with a raspy grunt, cock hot and heavy against your fluttering walls.

His sheer size makes you feel like you’ll split apart any second now, but oh how you desperately wanted to be broken by him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Gojo began to thrust. Shallow, mindless strokes, each one just to drive his enormous cock deeper to fit into your snug, ravaged cunt.

“Fuck me, please, sir. Need you feel me up insi-”

Smack!

“...four.” you whisper, voice strained with need and frustration.

Ass sore, marks probably there for days. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as Gojo loses grip on his restraint - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. Sheathing himself inside your dripping heaven till his heavy balls smacked your clit, your ass flush against the neat tufts of white at his pelvis.

Wasting no time, Gojo starts up at an uncontrollable, merciless pace, every inch of him being forced all the way into your snug pussy. Your walls suck him up greedily as his prominent veins throb and graze just right on all your sweet spots.

“This what you wanted, princess?” he rasps out, pace unwavering. “This is what you wanted, right? To be fucked like the pretty little slut that you are, huh?”

“Yes! Yes, please, sir.”

Each ramming of his cock drives you further and further up the cold desk, a pathetic little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth at each slam. Knees weakened by his relentless pounding, you didn’t know how you were gonna hold yourself up anymore-

Ah, but you didn’t have to. Gojo Satoru, ever the gentleman, wrapped a single, muscular arm under your hips, kneading the skin underneath his fingertips, fucking you deeper onto his cock as if you were his personal fucktoy.

“Oh fuck! Hngh- sir, right there.” you yelp at the new angle, his furiously flushed tip kissing your cervix so painfully good, g-spot abused as he grazes it over and over.

Smack!

“Ah, sir! Five-”

And then you’re cumming. Hips pushing back animalistically, fucking yourself through your high. Chasing peak after peak.

Boneless and exhausting, dripping cunt clamping down on him you mewl, “Fill me up inside, sir! Wanna feel it dripping down my legs.” At the sound of your voice, Gojo’s eyes rolled back, his features contorted in pure ecstasy as his cock twitches savagely inside you, finally letting himself release. Cum gushing out in thick, pulsating spurts.

Filling your abused pussy to the brim, coating your walls an obscene white. Gojo keeps fucking himself through it, milking even the last drops of his length on your cunt. Breaths ragged, hips animalistic, low murmurs of your name leaving his lips.

And as his climax bates into nothing more but mere tingles, lust-hazed, tired ears catch the distant knocking from outside. Ah, right that appointment.

Blinking back the vision to his eyes, he looks down at you. All fucked-out, swollen lips pouty, and his cum dribbling enticingly down your thighs. Oh how he just wants to bite into you - or have half the mind to just send you out there like this to show all those college losers who you belong to.

Or, he thinks, eyes twinkling as he looks down at the generously large space under his desk.

You catch his gaze, a dangerous glint in them as he maps every curve and dip of your body. Marked and so very obviously his. Your pretty lips falling into a soft oh! as you realize just what idea was forming behind those darkened blue eyes.

“Come in.”

Before you know it, you’re shoved hastily under the desk, Gojo’s still-furiously flushed tip kissing your bruised lips as the door swings open. God, if every assignment was like this then you’d probably end up valedictorian…

A/N. Can’t believe this got me b@nned for like a hour bro pls.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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goaskangel · 4 months ago

Text

perv!toji and his sweet virgin gf - part two!

part one

toji’s got you exactly where he wants you. soft and pliable, a little cold to the side of him on the couch. you’re invested in the show broadcasted on the TV, mouth dropped a little with your eyes glued on what’ll happen next. your hands are clenched gently on toji’s shirt as you guys cuddle with a small pull-over on the both of you.

he couldn’t care less about the show but he’s real intrigued by you. his hands rub and grope at the fat of your thighs carefully, smoothing his knuckles on your cold skin.

his face resting on your head, leaving the occasional kiss to your temple or a sniff of the perfume behind your neck.

usually the closest he could get without you flustering up immediately was casual cuddling. so these little touches on your legs and his body pressing up behind yours was the biggest privilege to him. he can’t scare you off so easily so he continues.

“awh!” you jolt up slightly when the episode’s left on a cliffhangers, advertisements and trailers play on the cable. “can’t believe it.” whispering as you accept defeat and relax back down again, a pout on your face as your hand trails down to find your boyfriend’s strong hand on your upper thigh.

“toj’...” your squeeze at him, your body suddenly warming.

“don’t know how you focused. so invested. i definitely couldn’t pay attention.” he emphasizes by kneading the fat of your hips.

you roll from your side to resting your back on the armrest, “mm, you’re so dramatic.” taking your hand to brush your fingers on his sculpted jaw. he takes this time to get a hold of it and pepper kisses on your hand

“yeah, for good reason.” he speaks between pecs, taking his time to trail down your body. but crawling down quick enough before you can object. cherishing the pieces of skin that’s exposed from your raised shirt, all the soft skin your shorts expose. your arms coming to rest beside you, unsure what to do as the experienced man presses smooches into you.

deep and possessive mutters come from him, “so perfect. this untouched body, all mine. you know how sexy it is? knowing i’m the only one who knows how you feel?” he dips his head between your thighs as he looks up to your needy but nervous expression. you close your legs to hold any modesty you have left. you’ve never done anything with him, let alone anything with anybody. your hearts racing–it’s too much to decide if you do really want this, what if you embarrass yourself in front of him? he rubs low and shallow circles on your kneecaps, open-mouth kisses on your body.

“you’re overthinking it, baby. i jus’ wanna make you come, right on my fingers–make you feel so good. that so bad?”

“toji, i don’t…” you pause.

your fingers dip into the waistband of your shorts and you slide them down.

“yeah, there she is, my good girl.” he helps you with the rest. he’s so incredibly eager and he shows it. throwing your shorts to the ground like they’re nothing before diving between your legs. he smiles hard at the sticky spot of your panties and presses his thumb at your clothed clit. your back arches off the couch from the sudden impact, starting to moan quietly at how he conditions you to his touch by circling his finger on your wanting bud. before you know it, your only protection is ripped away and toji’s eyeing your cunt like the greedy man he is. he spits a good glob of saliva on the hood and watches how it dribbles down past your folds, slick with your own arousal, to the couch cushions.

he sucks on his middle finger for a second and teases the tip at your fluttering hole,

“pretty virgin pussy, you ever take anything besides your own little fingers?”

you shake your head, biting your lip knowing just one of his fingers could deflower you alone. you throb at the thought and buck your hips, “put it in already.”

“mhm, can’t wait to hear that again.” he squeezes past the soft folds whilst thumbing your clit, his finger digging in carefully as you wince. you’re pouring of soppy gloss as he manages to reach another finger into you, cooing at your little curses and urges. reassuring you with dirty words like you’re so warm, sweet girl. gonna feel this way around my cock when i have my way, huh? gonna sound so pretty when i fuck your little body. tight and fuckin’ wet, bet you taste so good.

he tongues at the mess around your labia and tight hole, making you gasp. something so warm and fluid, nothing like you’ve felt before. just safe vibrators and your hands to make you come but this, this was so much. so much more intense��now he’s fucking your tight pussy with his tongue. it already felt so long and hot in your mouth and now it’s inside you.

your hips roll, a strong stir in your lower back. “toji–augh, oh! mmm–can’t, it’s so much. gonna come toji i’m close”

you come undone, right on his mouth as he continues fucking you through your orgasm. praising you and kissing your inner thighs, licking his fingers clean. pressing a few to your clit, making you giggle through exhaustion when he tries kissing your lips when his are covered with your wetness. mmm he can’t wait for the day you let him really love you!

masterlist

taglist : @tojisfourthbiatchoftheweek @booboobear-12 @anthy-jay-ander @euhphoq @duooy

lmk if yall want more/to be added to the taglist!!!!!!!!!!

#goaskangel #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk headcanons #toji fushiguro #jjk smut #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk toji #shiu kong #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x you #dilf toji #fushiguro toji x reader

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enhaflixer · 4 months ago

Text

HARD HOURS - enha reaction when you wont let them sleep because you're too needy.

cw (MDNI): breeding, explicit activity, super filthy, face sitting, spitting, mean language, swearing, squirting, oral m!receiving, oral f!receiving, harmless choking let me know if theres anyth i missed! AN: i had a stroke brought back to life and produced this. wc: 10K

@naurwayyyyy @ziiao @somuchdard @ijustwannareadstuff20 @brianashiftz @niki-tty @jakeyismine

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

Heeseung is dead to the world—or so it seems. He’s sprawled on his stomach, head half-buried in the pillow, blankets barely hanging onto his hips. You can tell by the slow, heavy breaths that he’s on the edge of deep sleep. In other words, the perfect target for your mischief.

You start small: a soft kiss against his ear, teeth gently dragging along the shell. Nothing. Heeseung barely stirs, only letting out a faint groan. You smirk, inching closer until your body is pressed flush to his back.

Then, you whisper your first sinful line:

“God, Hee, I can’t stop thinking about you filling me up… Wanna feel your cum dripping out.”

A slight twitch of his shoulders. Still not enough. You drag your lips lower, biting softly at his earlobe, letting your breath fan over the sensitive skin. This time, you feel his entire body tense, a quiet grunt rumbling in his chest.

“Mm… baby,” he mumbles, voice muffled by the pillow, “why are you so… fucking horny?”

You grin into his ear, hooking your leg over his calf to keep him from rolling away. “Because you’re so goddamn hotwhen you’re half-asleep,” you purr. “And because I know you love the idea of breeding me.”

Heeseung freezes. Then, a soft exhale that sounds suspiciously like a groan. “Shit… not this again,” he complains, though his tone betrays a hint of intrigue.

You trail your hand beneath the blanket, grazing the waistband of his boxers. “Yes, this again. Don’t pretend you don’t get off on the thought of knocking me up.” You can’t help the wicked smile curling at your lips. “Think about it, Hee… I’d be so full with your baby—everyone would know you fucked me so good that—”

“Stop,” he grumbles, face still squished into the pillow, but you hear his breathing pick up. “Don’t talk like that when I’m… trying… to sleep…” His words are disjointed, lazy from exhaustion, but there’s no mistaking the twitch in his boxers.

You press closer, cupping him through the fabric. He’s already half-hard—despite how desperate he is to stay asleep. “Feels like you don’t really want me to stop,” you tease, giving him a firm squeeze. “C’mon, Hee, you can breed me in your sleep if you want. I’ll do all the work. Just fill me up ‘til I’m pregnant with your baby.”

Heeseung lets out a muffled curse, finally rolling onto his side to face you, though his eyes are still lidded with exhaustion. “You’re… so fucking… relentless,” he mutters. “I was literally about to pass out.”

You just tilt your head, giving him your sweetest, most innocent smile. “Well, if you can’t handle it, guess I’ll just—” You start to pull your hand away, as if giving up.

But the second you try, Heeseung catches your wrist, pressing your palm fully against his length. “Shut up,” he mutters, brows furrowed. “You started this. Now you’d better take responsibility.”

You arch a brow. “Responsibility?” The corner of your mouth twitches. “As in… riding you ‘til you pump me full?”

He swallows hard, cock throbbing beneath your hand. “If that’s what it takes to get you to let me sleep afterwards,” he growls, though the sleepy rasp in his voice makes him sound more needy than threatening.

You can’t help the rush of arousal pooling between your thighs. You slip your hand under his waistband, fingers closing around the hot, stiff length of him. He gasps—quietly, but it’s enough to confirm you’ve got him.

“Fuck…” Heeseung’s eyes flutter, half-lidded, teeth sinking into his lower lip. “Fine. But don’t… don’t expect me to do all the work. I’m literally about to pass out.”

You laugh softly, sliding your leg over his hip until you’re straddling him. “I told you,” you purr, leaning in to nibble at his ear again, “I’ll do everything. You just gotta lie there and let me use that gorgeous cock. Let me fuck your baby into me.”

A trembling exhale leaves him, and for a second, you think he might actually fall asleep mid-conversation. But then, he ruts upward, desperate, jaw clenched. “Don’t… say that if you’re not serious,” he warns, voice cracking from both arousal and exhaustion. “You know how I get when you mention… that.”

You smirk, shimmying your sweats off, aligning yourself with him. “Who says I’m not serious?” Another deliberate roll of your hips, letting the tip of his cock slide between your folds. “Wanna see you get all possessive, Hee. Wanna watch your face when you realize you can’t help but fill me up ‘til I’m stuffed with your cum.”

He hisses, fists gripping the sheets as you sink down on him. His eyes squeeze shut, a low groan vibrating in his throat. “You’re… so fucking wet,” he mutters. “God, babe, you’re insane.”

You start a slow grind, rolling your hips to coax him deeper. “Mm, blame yourself,” you tease, leaning in to brush your lips against his ear again. “You’re the one who made me this wet by… existing. By being so fucking adorable even when you’re grumpy.”

He exhales a laugh—somewhere between a scoff and genuine amusement—then clutches your hips, fingers digging in as he tries to thrust up. But you quickly pin him, reminding him of your promise that you’ll do the work. He shudders, letting his head fall back into the pillow, letting out a string of curses when your pace increases.

“Fuck… you’re—” he starts, but the words catch in his throat as you slam down harder. His hands slide up under your shirt, caressing your waist as he tries to hold on to some sense of control. But you can tell he’s close to just letting go.

“You gonna cum already, Hee?” you taunt sweetly, nails scratching lightly along his torso. “Gonna fill me up with your baby while you’re half-asleep?”

He practically growls, eyes fluttering open to glare at you in a haze of lust. “Shut up,” he groans, “you’re the one who started—fuck—this.”

The slide of his cock is delicious, each wet smack of your bodies echoing in the quiet. His face contorts with pleasure, and you can tell from the shaky moans that he’s right on the edge. Suddenly, he grips your thighs, forcing you down until you’re fully impaled, burying himself to the hilt.

A ragged cry leaves him. “Shit, babe—I’m… oh, fuck—” His eyes roll back as he spills inside you, warmth flooding your core. His entire body trembles, half-lidded gaze locked on the sight of you perched on his lap.

Panting, you watch him struggle to stay awake, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “God, you’re so—fucking—difficult,” he gasps out, voice raspy with exhaustion. “But… so good.”

You gently stroke his hair, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Told you you’d like it.”

Heeseung groans again, arms wrapping around your waist. “Yeah, yeah. Now let me sleep,” he mumbles, eyes already fluttering shut. “Unless you want me to… pass out mid-round two.”

You laugh, settling over his chest, feeling the sticky warmth of his release still dripping between your thighs. “Mm, maybe I’ll let you get some rest, big boy.”

He half-smiles, nuzzling into your neck. “Why… are you so… horny… all the time…?”

You just chuckle, letting your fingers trace random patterns along his spine. “Maybe it’s because you’re so fucking irresistible, Hee.”

He makes a small, pleased sound—somewhere between a hum and a sigh—and finally drifts off, still inside you, arms locked around your waist like you might vanish if he loosened his grip.

You won this round—but at least he gets to sleep now… right?

��𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

Jay was out cold. Face half-buried in the pillow, arms stretched above his head, lounge pants slung low around his hips. He’d come home dead tired—only to doze off in that weird position where his eyes stayed half-open, like he was on autopilot even in sleep.

Meanwhile, you were in the bathroom, freshening up… and slipping into a brand-new black lace lingerie set. The bra was sheer enough to flaunt your nipples behind intricate lace, a garter belt hugged your hips, and the star of the show? Crotchless panties that revealed you in all the right places. The plan was to wake him gently—or, well, not so gently.

When you crept back into the bedroom, Jay let out a sleepy grunt, barely stirring. You flicked on the bedside lamp to a dim glow, stepping into his line of sight. He blinked once, confusion painting his features. Then he actually registered the lace.

His half-lidded gaze roamed you from head to toe, lingering on the straps across your thighs and the mouthwatering curve of your hips. “Mmph,” he muttered, voice thick with sleep. “Is that… new?”

You grinned, coming closer. “Wanna see the best part?” Without waiting for an answer, you lifted the edge of the delicate garter belt, letting him notice the open gap between your thighs.

His eyes snapped all the way open. “Fuck, are those… crotchless?”

“Mhm.” You tilted your hips, showing him exactly how very little was covered. The lace was basically framing your folds, leaving you entirely accessible. “Thought you’d like it, babe.”

A soft exhale left him as he tried to push himself upright. Sleep still clung to his movements, but the desire in his eyes was quickly burning away any drowsiness. “You’re so… fucking… I can’t even think.”

You slid onto the bed, hooking a leg over his hip. “So don’t think,” you teased, brushing your lips against his ear. “Just do what you do best… service top, right?”

He let out a quiet laugh, pressing a hand to his eyes. “God, you’re gonna kill me. I’m supposed to be passed out right now.”

Your answer was a playful nibble at his jaw. “But you won’t pass out. Because look at what I’m wearing—for you.”

He parted his fingers, peeking at you through them. “Yeah, well, you know I can’t resist that.” His hand dropped, sliding around to cup your ass, fingertips brushing the lace. “I mean, shit, you’re basically exposed but still so fucking sexy.” He swallowed hard, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. “Okay, okay, I’m awake now.”

Leaning back, you very purposefully let him see the parted crotch of your panties. “Let’s put them to use,” you murmured, your voice low.

Jay bit his lip, half a smirk forming. “You really want me to devour you right now, yeah?”

“You say that like it’s a question.” A single tug at his lounge pants exposed the growing outline of his cock, straining for attention. You pressed a palm over it, feeling him twitch. “I want to feel that mouth of yours first, though.”

He groaned, “Fuck… I can’t say no to you, can I?” Carefully, he pushed himself up, fluffing a pillow behind his head. The faint shadow of a grin on his lips. “Come here, let me see those crotchless panties up close.”

Your stomach fluttered as you crawled forward, positioning yourself above him—straddling his chest. You hovered for a moment, letting him admire the black lace hugging your thighs, the sheen of your arousal already evident.

His gaze flicked from your eyes to that sinful opening. “Christ,” he whispered, “they're so fucking—” He shook his head like he couldn’t find the words.

Taking it as a cue, you moved up, planting your knees on either side of his head. His hands automatically flew to your hips, steadying you. The closeness, the warmth—it was intense. One of his hands slid beneath the lace, and his breath caught when he felt how soaked you were.

“Damn,” he murmured, voice rasping with lust, “already this wet?”

You smirked, “I’ve been thinking about this all night.” Lowering yourself an inch more, you whispered, “You ready for me to ride your face, husband?”

A flash of pure hunger lit his eyes. “Fuck yes.” Then, half-lidded gaze locked on yours, he tugged you down the final distance, pressing his mouth directly to your exposed folds. The first caress of his tongue had you shivering, your entire body drawn tight.

“Jay…” you moaned softly, threading your fingers into his hair. The angle was perfect: he didn’t even have to remove the panties, just push the delicate lace aside with his nose, leaving you completely accessible to that talented mouth.

He started slowly—soft, deliberate licks that explored your folds. Each pass of his tongue was accompanied by a low hum of approval, a subtle roll of your hips. Then, gathering more confidence, he parted you further, letting his tongue delve deeper, swirling around your clit in lazy circles. You inhaled sharply, nails scraping his scalp, which earned a muffled groan from him.

Husband material, indeed.

“Shit…” you gasped, thighs trembling around his face. “God, you’re so— so good at this—“

His only response was a low chuckle, the vibrations making your toes curl. He pressed his tongue flat against your bundle of nerves, flicking it with just enough pressure to make your head spin. Each ragged breath, each swirl of his tongue, coaxed you closer to the edge.

Desperate to balance yourself, you gripped the headboard, half-riding his mouth in a rhythm that matched your ragged moans. The black lace framed his cheeks, reminding you again how easy it was for him to devour you in these crotchless panties. You bit your lip, panting harder.

He seemed to sense you edging near your climax, because he slid one hand up your thigh, hooking around the garter strap. With the other, he reached up to dig into your hips, urging you to bear more weight. And you obliged, pressing down, letting him bury his face fully against your heated core.

Your breath caught. “Jay… I’m gonna— oh fuck—“

He took that as permission, latching onto your clit with suction and a flick of his tongue that ripped a choked sob from your throat. The orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of trembling pleasure, your thighs clamping around his head. He rode it out with you, licking and kissing through each aftershock.

When you finally released him, he gasped for air, lips slick with your arousal. But the grin on his face? Absolutely triumphant.

“Feel better?” he teased, voice still rough with lust. Before you could answer, he reached out, tugging you down for a messy kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue, a heady mixture of heat and satisfaction.

You pulled away, chest heaving, eyes glazed. “Fuck, Jay… that was—“ “Yeah?” he murmured, half-smiling. “Think you can still handle me inside you, or did I wear you out?”

You let out a breathless laugh, “Oh, I can handle you. Don’t forget who started this.” Sliding off him, you kicked aside the sheets. “Now hurry up, big boy… you’re not going back to sleep until I’ve made you come at least twice.”

A crooked smirk tugged at his lips as he positioned himself over you, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his sweats to shuffle them off. “You’re trying to kill me, huh?” Then, leaning in to nibble your ear, he whispered, “Glad you woke me up for this, wifey.”

Your only response was a blissed-out hum as he lined himself up, the crotchless panties conveniently parting to give him full access. Husband material? Absolutely. Service top? One thousand percent.

And you were about to enjoy every second of it.

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

Jake lay on his stomach, hair damp from a rushed shower, half-naked in a pair of boxers that barely clung to his hips. The clock on the nightstand blinked an unholy hour—he had football practice at sunrise, and he’d been moaning for the last hour about how he needed rest. Yet the moment you snuck onto the bed behind him, hooking your fingers under his waistband, his body betrayed all that whining.

“Stop,” he mumbled into the pillow, voice muffled and trembling with fatigue. “I—swear, I’m dying, I can’t do this.” Even as he spoke, you felt him twitch under your touch, a half-muffled groan escaping his lips. His half-lidded eyes flicked open, shooting you a watery glare. “You... you’re so damn pushy.”

With a soft smile, you trailed your nails along his back. “But you’re already half-hard, Jake,” you murmured, pressing a kiss just below his shoulder blade. “Look at you, complaining about sleep when your body obviously wants more.”

He huffed a pitiful laugh, letting his head turn on the pillow so you caught a glimpse of his flushed cheeks. “I—I can’t help it,” he stammered, eyes fluttering shut again. “If you keep going, I’ll... I’ll do something insane. I can’t even stand.”

A surge of excitement twisted in your belly. “Then eat me out from behind,” you suggested, your voice carrying a teasing, sultry note. “It won’t take much movement.”

Jake froze, letting out a ragged exhale. “God, you’re unstoppable. Fine. But if I pass out mid-lick, it’s on you.” He rolled slowly onto his side, hooking his arm around your waist to nudge you into position. His half-dead eyes scanned your body as you shoved your shorts down, arching your back, cheeks aflame. “Jesus,” he muttered, voice shaky, “you’re... so wet already. Are you really that needy?”

A tremor ran through you at his drowsy, borderline mocking tone. “Mhmm,” you breathed. “All yours, baby.”

“Don’t call me that,” he groaned, pushing your thighs apart as he knelt behind you. “I’m too tired for sweet talk.” He tugged your underwear free, letting it drop onto the sheets. The next second, his warm breath ghosted across your folds. “If I say something messed up, it’s your fault for pushing me this far.”

And with that, he latched on, tongue dragging a wet stripe through your slick. The shock tore a sharp moan from your throat. “Oh—Jake,” you gasped, fingers clenching in the sheets. “That’s— oh god—”

“Shut up,” he slurred, half-laugh, half-growl. “You asked for it.” He pressed his mouth tighter, swirling his tongue around your clit in sloppy, uncoordinated but devastating motions. Every time you jerked or whimpered, he let out a whiny grunt, eyes barely open, jaw slack with exhaustion. “Fuck, you taste so good. Hate you for making me do this when I’m half-dead. You— you little whore, waking me up... oh, shit.”

Your cheeks flamed at the nasty name, a sob-laced moan slipping out. “Jake, oh my god—”

He let out a broken giggle, hooking an arm around your hips to pin you in place. “I told you,” he muttered. “No filter. You’re basically my cocksleeve, right? Couldn’t even let me rest.” Another swirl of his tongue, and you felt him bitelightly at the undercurve of your ass.

A startled cry left your lips. “Jake, that hurts—”

“Shit, sorry,” he said, sounding half-dazed. “I— can’t help it.” Then, in a swift, delirious move, he latched onto the same spot, sucking until you knew it’d bruise. “Marking you up. My messy little bitch.”

Tears burned at your eyes from the mix of pleasure and stinging pain. Your nails dug into the mattress, breath coming in short, ragged pants. “N-never heard you talk like that,” you managed, voice trembling with arousal.

Jake half-laughed, half-whined. “Yeah, well, I never let myself go this far. Tired as fuck—makes me nasty.” He sealed his lips around your clit, sending a white-hot spark through your core. The sloppy suction and swirl of his tongue drove you to the brink in record time.

He let out a pitiful moan, half-lidded eyes threatening to shut completely. “Hurry up,” he mumbled, mouth dragging along your folds. “Come on my tongue so I can pass out. You’re so fucking tasty— shit, I love this, but I might die. So hurry.”

That final taunt threw you over the edge. You let out a wail, thighs trembling violently as a wave of ecstasy slammed through you. He groaned, lapping you through every aftershock until you collapsed forward, sweat beading along your spine, tears stinging your eyes from the intensity.

Jake pulled away, panting, chest rising and falling. “God,” he grumbled, pressing his forehead to your lower back, “that was insane. I can’t believe the shit I just said. My brain is mush.”

You gave a shaky little laugh, trying to catch your breath. “I... loved it,” you admitted, cheeks aflame. But a surge of leftover arousal still hummed in your veins. Turning your head, you shot him a pleading look. “Jake... I still want more.”

He stiffened, letting out a half-yell of frustration. “You want more?” he nearly shrieked, voice cracking. “I’m half-dead, woman. What else do you want from me?”

Biting your lip, you shifted around until you were kneeling to face him. “Let me ride you,” you whispered. “Just once. We can finish quick. Please?”

He glared at you with watery eyes, fury warring with raw lust, cheeks flaming. “Ugh, fine,” he snapped, hooking an arm around your waist. “Come on, then.”

He flopped onto his back, yanking down his boxers enough to free his cock. You saw how stiff he was, the tip gleaming with his own arousal. “Do it,” he mumbled, voice slurring. “Ride me. But if I fucking black out, that’s on you.”

Heart racing, you straddled him, letting your knees frame his hips. Leaning down, you murmured a soft “Thank you,” but he just grunted.

“Don’t thank me,” he mumbled, hooking his hands under your thighs. “Use me, you goddamn succubus.” Another delirious laugh, then in a shocking move, he grabbed your chin, tilting your face down. “Open,” he commanded, half-lidded gaze glinting.

You parted your lips in confusion, and he spat lightly into your mouth, the humiliating shock making your entire body jolt. “There,” he slurred, cheeks aflame. “You want filthy? I’m fucking filthy. Now move.”

A stunned moan escaped you. You swallowed reflexively, your mind spinning at the primal gesture. Then, carefully, you aligned yourself and sank onto his length, a gasping cry tearing from your throat as you fully impaled yourself.

He whined, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, that’s— so tight,” he whimpered, nails biting into your hips. “Can’t believe I’m letting you do this. You better ride me well, you slutty— oh god, you see? I can’t shut up.”

You started moving, thighs burning, the angle hitting deeper than you anticipated. He hissed, moaning loudly, half-laughing at how overwhelmed he felt. “Shit, you’re so wet,” he rasped, voice cracking into a higher pitch. “Keep going, keep grinding. I can’t do anything or I’ll collapse.”

Tears clung to your lashes from overstimulation, your earlier orgasm making you extra sensitive. His filthy words poured out in a half-slurred stream: “That’s it, fuck, you ride me so good. My pathetic whore, always wanting more, can’t get enough of my cock, can you? Gonna make me come so fast, oh god—”

Your own breath stuttered, hips rolling faster, each bounce driving you closer to a mind-shattering peak. “Jake,” you sobbed, nails scraping his chest. “I’m gonna— oh fuck— I can’t believe how filthy you are.”

He let out a pitiful yelp, hooking an arm behind your back to pull you down, letting his teeth graze your shoulder. “I’m filthy because of you,” he hissed, voice fracturing. “I— I want you screaming, baby. Scream for me.”

It all came crashing down: your body locked up, a desperate scream tore from your lips, tears streaming as your orgasm blindsided you. Jake moaned brokenly, hips jerking up even in his half-conscious state. He spilled inside you with a ragged cry, arms trembling to keep you close.

For a moment, you both stayed locked together, hearts racing, sweat glistening. Then Jake let out a raw, shuddering breath, hooking his hand around your neck in a softer hold, pressing quick, frantic kisses along your jaw and collarbone.

“Shit,” he whispered, voice still high and whimpery but now laced with guilt. “Oh god, I’m so fucking sorry, my baby,” he stammered, the tears in his eyes no longer just from exhaustion but from sudden remorse. “Did I hurt you? Did I say something awful? Fuck, I bit you, I— spat in your mouth, called you a whore. I’m so sorry, my beautiful wife, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Your heart flipped at the sudden shift. “Jake,” you breathed, wiping his sweaty bangs aside. His cheeks were glowing, tears threatening to spill. “No, it’s okay,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I liked it, I promise. You didn’t hurt me in a bad way. It was perfect for me.”

He let out a shaky sigh, hooking an arm around your waist to bury his face against your chest. “I can’t believe I said all that. M’ just so tired, I can’t filter. I’m so sorry, my baby, my sweet girl— please forgive me,” he mumbled between kisses to your collarbone, each one almost frantic with guilt. “I love you, I love you— I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You cradled his head, tears pricking your eyes for a different reason now. “I love you too,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his damp forehead. “It was so intense and raw, but I’m okay, truly.”

He let out another half-sob, half-laugh, relief flooding his features. “Thank god,” he murmured, letting his eyes finally drift shut as he clung to you. “You’re my baby, and I called you all those names— I just— oh my god.”

“Shh,” you soothed, brushing his cheek. “We’ll rest now, okay?”

He gave a small nod, exhaling the last of his tension. “Rest,” he echoed, voice spent. “I can actually sleep.” Another watery chuckle, then he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he repeated in a near whisper, arms wrapping around you in a lazy embrace.

You settled against his chest, letting him roll onto his side so you both could fit under the covers. Despite the sticky heat and bruises you’d surely find in the morning, a drowsy peace enveloped you both. He drifted off, still half-mumbling apologies, and you held him close, heart full—knowing that no matter how filthy the night had been, the love that followed was unwavering and sweet.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

Sunghoon was drifting in that half-awake, half-asleep realm—eyes heavy-lidded, cheek pressed into the pillow, hair messy from tossing around. He had one arm slung across his stomach, the other dangling off the bed, looking like he might doze off at any second.

You, on the other hand, had far too much energy. And far too many thoughts about your craving for roughness—particularly choking. But rather than just blurt it out, you wanted to theorize, to talk about the deeper psychology behind it… with him, while he was half-asleep.

So you scooted closer, your knee brushing his thigh. He grunted, eyes flickering open to a sliver.

“Sunghoon,” you started, voice low, “can we talk about something? Like, a deep… philosophical something?”

He exhaled, shifting onto his back and letting out a low groan. “Oh my God,” he muttered, obviously not thrilled. “You… want me to have a deep philosophical conversation right now?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “It’s about choking.”

He squinted, brow furrowed. “Choking. As in… me choking you.” His gaze darted to your throat, then back to your eyes.

“Mhm,” you confirmed, pushing a stray hair from his face. “I’ve been thinking about why I want it. Is it about trust? About letting go of control? Or, like, the raw primal side of us—”

He let out a weary groan, rolling his head toward the ceiling. “You’re a psycho,” he mumbled, not even bothering to keep his voice down. “Who the hell sits here and tries to dissect choking kink like it’s some academic thesis when I’m literally about to pass out?”

You tried not to laugh, pressing your palm to his chest. “I just think it’s interesting. I mean, it’s not just ‘I want you to choke me’—it’s why do I want you to choke me? Don’t you ever wonder about the deeper—”

“Shut up,” Sunghoon cut in, eyes pinching shut as if he could block you out. “Seriously. I’m too tired for your ‘fascinating deep dive’ on kinks.”

You arched a brow, half-smiling. “You can’t just bury your head in the sand.”

He let out a sharp exhale, turning onto his side so his back was partially to you. “Yes, I can,” he grumbled. “I can bury my head in this pillow. Then maybe I won’t have to listen to you psychoanalyze choking.”

Undeterred, you scooted closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “But Hoonie, imagine how hot it’d be if you pinned me against the wall, your hand around my throat, talking about how you’ll—”

He jerked away, letting out a soft snarl. “You’re seriously insane. Why the hell are you wanting a full lecture on me choking you? Just—shut up or I’ll… I’ll shut you up.”

You blinked, pulse skipping at the edge in his tone. “That sounds promising,” you teased, eyes glinting with excitement.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, half-laughing despite himself. “You want me to choke you so bad?”

You nodded earnestly. “Yeah. And maybe call me your little slut or something—”

He shot you a scandalized look, half-lidded eyes burning with a mixture of exhaustion and sudden arousal. “Jesus,” he breathed, raking a hand through his messy hair. “You seriously don’t know when to quit.”

You grinned. “Nope.”

For a moment, he just stared, seemingly debating whether to actually indulge you or roll over and pass out. Then, with a low grunt, he shifted, turning all the way to face you. His hand came up, fingers wrapping lightly around your throat—not applying pressure yet, just resting there.

“This what you wanted?” he mumbled, gaze flicking over your face.

Your heart thumped as you nodded, pressing your neck into his palm. “Yes. I like it rough, and I trust you to not actually kill me,” you said, half-laughing.

He let out a short, exasperated snort, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “You’re a menace.” Then, without warning, he tightened his grip—not painfully, but enough to send a bolt of arousal straight to your core.

A surprised gasp escaped your lips. “Hoon—”

“Shut up,” he repeated, voice suddenly dripping with that dark amusement you’d been craving. “You talk too damn much.”

Your cheeks flamed, the mixture of slight pressure on your windpipe and his rough tone making your skin prickle. “So you are interested in the ‘philosophy’,” you tried to joke, but he tightened his hold just enough to cut you off.

“I said shut up or I’ll do it for you,” he whispered, eyes half-lidded with sleep but blazing with intent. “Guess the best way to keep you from yapping is by fucking you speechless.”

Your pulse skyrocketed. “Then do it,” you challenged, letting your hand curl around his wrist lightly in a silent sign of both caution and consent. “Show me how you’d shut me up.”

Sunghoon let out a soft grunt, hooking his free arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. You could feel the hardness beneath his boxers pressing into your thigh—so apparently, he wasn’t too tired to get turned on.

“God, you’re so—” he started, but cut himself off, leaning in to capture your mouth in a rough, hungry kiss. The hand at your throat stayed in place, a persistent reminder of his quiet dominance. Every time you tried to speak, he muffled it with his lips, swallowing your protests or giggles.

A muffled moan left you, your body arching into his. He parted from the kiss only to growl, “Turn over,” voice heavy with drowsy impatience. “I can’t choke you properly like this.”

You complied in a heartbeat, flipping to your back. He followed, pinning you underneath him, knee nudging your legs apart. The weight of his hand on your throat never wavering, though it wasn’t enough to cut off your air—just a firm, possessive hold.

“How’s this?” he muttered, half-lidded eyes scanning your face. “Better for your psycho talk?”

You swallowed, breath shaky. “Mmm, yes. Love it,” you whispered, letting your hand cup his cheek. “Now maybe—”

He tightened his grip slightly, a cocky smirk curving his lips. “What part of shut up don’t you understand?”

Heat pooled between your legs, your lips parting in a silent moan. “H-hoon,” you stammered, cut off by a slight squeeze that halted your voice.

“Still talking,” he teased, leaning down to brush his lips over yours. Then, he thrust his hips forward, letting you feel his erection straining through the thin fabric of his boxers. “You want me to fuck you so badly, you can’t stop hammering on about it, huh?”

A strangled whimper escaped you, nodding fervently. The pressure on your neck, the sleepy yet intense glint in his eye—all of it was turning you on beyond belief.

Sunghoon snorted softly, sliding his hand from your throat to grab your jaw instead. “I’ll do it,” he murmured, hooking a thumb under your chin to tilt your head up, “but next time, pick a better moment for your philosophical kink talk. Deal?”

Before you could respond, he lowered his head, kissing along the line of your jaw while his free hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts. The chill of his fingers against your heated skin made you gasp, and he smirked at your reaction.

“God, you’re soaked,” he mumbled, eyebrows arching in mild surprise. “You really do get off on this, huh?”

You exhaled shakily, “Mm. Yeah. Hard choking… your rough side… everything.”

Sunghoon let out a quiet chuckle that bordered on an exasperated sigh. “You’re fucking insane,” he repeated, though he pressed a sweet, fleeting kiss to your lips that took the sting out of his words. “But I guess that makes two of us, because I’m into it.”

He parted your thighs, tugging your shorts down enough to expose you. Sliding himself free, he lined up, and in one swift push, sank into you with a low moan that made your toes curl.

He pinned you by the throat again—not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you from speaking easily. The sensation danced on the edge of adrenaline and euphoria, exactly what you’d craved.

“You want me to… slam you so hard you can’t think?” he panted, voice shaky from both fatigue and lust. “‘Cause I can do that.”

Your eyes fluttered, a wave of arousal washing over you. “Yes, please,” you gasped, reaching up to grab his wrist lightly, ensuring you could tap out if it got too intense.

He started thrusting, each roll of his hips pushing you deeper into the mattress. Your breathing stuttered around his hand, and it was glorious. Each stroke fed the craving you’d asked for: that borderline savage, primal taking, balanced by the knowledge he’d never actually harm you.

“Oh God, Hoon,” you moaned, nails raking down his bicep. “This is—”

He cut you off with a tighter squeeze, delivering a sharper thrust that stole any chance of finishing your sentence. “I said shut up,” he teased, though you could see the corners of his mouth tugging in a faint smirk. “Don’t you get it?”

Your retort died in your throat, replaced by a series of moans as he slammed into you harder, faster. The bed creaked with the force, and every breath you managed was ragged, tinted with the exhilarating rush of being pinned at the neck.

It didn’t take long before your body tensed, that coil in your lower belly about to snap. Sunghoon must’ve felt it, too, because he groaned, eyelids drooping with pleasure. “Fuck,” he muttered, “you’re so tight—gonna come too soon.”

You tried to reply, but all you got out was a choked moan as the orgasm washed over you, limbs trembling. He followed in short order, a broken cry escaping his lips as he spilled into you, hips stuttering with each wave of ecstasy. His grip on your throat eased, letting you gulp down air.

Panting and spent, he collapsed half on top of you, one arm bracing him so he didn’t crush you entirely. “You… are a fucking… menace,” he breathed, voice rough. “But God… that was so good.”

You gave him a languid smile, sliding your hand up to brush his damp hair from his forehead. “Thanks for indulging me,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He closed his eyes, letting out a tired laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. “Next time, remind me not to call you a psycho or you might bring up a million more kinks.”

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Admit it, you love that I’m psycho.”

A half-snort. “Maybe,” he teased, snuggling closer. “But if you ever start another deep philosophical conversation about choking when I’m half-asleep, I might just choke you out of spite.”

“Promise?” you teased, eyes shining with amusement.

He kissed the corner of your mouth, letting his head flop onto your shoulder. “Shut up and go to sleep,” he murmured, voice drowsy again.

You both drifted off in that warm afterglow, your throat bearing the faintest trace of his grip—and your heart absolutely brimming with satisfaction. Because for all his complaints, Sunghoon had given you exactly the intense, borderline savage scene you’d been craving… with all the trust and love behind it.

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

Sunoo lay on his back, eyes half-shut, body sinking comfortably into the mattress. He wasn’t completely knocked out, but he was definitely hovering on the edge of slumber—breathing slow, shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm. From the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you could see his hair falling softly across his forehead, lips parted in a faint sigh. He looked adorable, all relaxed and unguarded.

A spark of arousal buzzed through you as you took in the sight of him, that subtle line of bare skin where his shirt had ridden up. You really wanted him, but not in the usual way—this time, you wanted your mouth on him. Swallowing the slight nerves, you slipped onto the bed, edging closer until you hovered just above his side.

“Sunoo,” you whispered, running your hand over his chest in gentle circles. “You awake?”

He breathed out a quiet exhale, lids fluttering open a fraction. “Mmh,” he responded, voice thick with sleep. “A little. Why?”

“Well,” you said, letting your palm drift lower toward his stomach, “I was thinking… I really want to take care of you tonight. With my mouth.”

His eyes opened a bit more, revealing that soft, drowsy confusion. “You… want to do that right now?” he murmured, eyebrows lifting slightly. “I’m kinda… half-asleep.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “I know. But just let me do the work, okay? You can lie there and relax.”

Sunoo let out a soft grunt, shifting onto his back more fully. “Alright,” he conceded, the corners of his mouth curving in a faint smirk. “Though I can’t promise I’ll be, like, super talkative or anything.”

You chuckled, leaning in to press a light kiss to his shoulder. “Don’t worry about talking. Just let me make you feel good.”

With that, you lifted the blanket, revealing his waist. He was wearing a loose pair of boxers, and from the slight shape beneath the fabric, you could tell his body was already responding, if only a little. Your hand slipped under the elastic, wrapping around the warm length of him. He inhaled sharply, eyelids falling shut again.

“Oh,” he breathed, biting his lower lip in a subtle show of anticipation. “You’re serious about this, huh?”

“Completely serious,” you teased, stroking him with a gentle motion to coax him fully hard. “Does it feel nice?”

He let out a low hum. “Yeah. Feels… good.” He wasn’t whiny—but the light rasp in his voice suggested a battle between comfort and arousal. “I was, like, thirty seconds away from dozing off, but now… you’re making me want more.”

“Mm, that’s exactly what I’m aiming for,” you murmured. “Lift your hips a bit?”

He complied, letting you slip the boxers down enough to free him. You settled between his legs, the blanket sliding down to pool around your knees, and watched as he dragged in a steadying breath. You couldn’t help but smile at how relaxedhe still seemed, even with the flush creeping into his cheeks.

Slowly, you lowered your head, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. Sunoo’s breathing hitched, and you heard him mutter something too low to catch—possibly your name. Then, you licked a gentle stripe across the head, tasting the faint salt of his skin. His stomach tensed under your palm.

“S-still tired?” you asked, voice quiet, lips ghosting over him.

He opened one eye halfway. “Tired, yeah,” he admitted, “but I’m definitely not complaining.” A lazy grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he let out a calmer breath. “Keep going.”

You did, taking him in deeper, inch by inch, letting your tongue swirl around him. Sunoo parted his lips in a soft moan, not loud, but filled with enough warmth to make your blood race. His hand drifted to your hair, a gentle touch that neither pushed nor pulled—just a sweet sign of appreciation.

“Feels… amazing,” he murmured, breathing more heavily now. “Like I could drift off, but also… can’t, because you feel too good.”

Your heart fluttered at that. You began a slow, steady rhythm—bobbing your head, stroking the base with your hand, letting each motion draw out another quiet moan or short, content sigh from him. He didn’t whimper or whine—he just exhaled in these controlled, hushed groans, the edges of sleep still clinging to his voice.

“God,” he whispered, eyelids flickering shut again. “You’re so good at that.”

Encouraged, you took him deeper, relaxing your throat, letting him feel more of your warmth. His spine arched slightly, and you heard the sheets rustle as he bunched them in one fist.

“Mm,” he hummed, letting out a shaky breath. “You’re… making it hard to stay calm.” Even half-asleep, there was a sweet chuckle layered with arousal in his tone.

You smiled around him, pumping the rest of his length with your hand in time with each bob of your head. The slick sound of your mouth on him filled the quiet bedroom, and he exhaled in something that approached a groan, head lolling to the side.

When you glanced up, you saw that his eyes were still mostly closed, though his mouth formed a small ‘o’ with each ragged breath. “You good?” you asked softly, lifting your head just enough to speak.

He nodded, letting out an unsteady sigh. “Y-yeah, keep going. Please.” Another short laugh. “I can’t… believe how chill this feels”

You took that as your cue to slip him back inside your mouth, swirling your tongue against the underside. This time, he gave a longer, deeper moan, hips pressing up involuntarily—though not forcefully enough to choke you. You found a perfect synergy in that moment: him too sleepy to control everything, and you fully in the driver’s seat.

Eventually, his breath grew more labored, each inhale trembling with need. The subtle push of his thighs told you he was close to the edge. You hollowed your cheeks, moving quicker, coaxing him toward that release.

“Ah— oh, fuck,” he muttered, voice taut, a slight tremor in his thighs. “I’m— I think— yeah, ‘m gonna… oh God—”

His back arched off the bed, a sudden wave of pleasure making him jerk. He came with a few short thrusts, and you stayed with him, swallowing everything he gave you, feeling his entire body shudder beneath your hands. A breathy, almost disbelieving moan escaped him, half-lost in the pillow he’d turned his face into.

The aftershocks lingered, and you eased off him slowly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He blinked up at you, eyes drowsy but deeply satisfied.

“That was…” he breathed, a serene smile curving his lips. “God, you’re… incredible. I can’t even form words properly.”

You crawled back up to his side, pressing a gentle kiss to his flushed cheek. “You don’t have to form words. Just rest. I got what I wanted,” you teased softly.

A soft chuckle left him, and he slipped an arm around your waist. “You’re so smug,” he murmured, letting his eyes drift shut again. “But I’m not complaining.” Another quiet breath, and he nuzzled into your hair. “Loved it, truly. Thank you.”

You snuggled closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “Anytime, Sunoo. Sleep well.”

He let out one last contented exhale, drifting back toward that drowsy serenity. Because even if he was exhausted, he’d let you do anything to keep you satisfied—and you both wouldn’t have it any other way.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

Jungwon sprawled on the bed, face half-buried in the pillow, shirt ridden up around his ribcage, one foot sockless. He looked so done with the world—like all he needed was unconsciousness to recharge his soul. The moment you crawled on the mattress, he let out a theatrical groan.

“Don’t,” he muttered, voice thick with fatigue, “just…don’t. I’m literally about to pass out.”

You snickered, resting a palm on his exposed waist. “You always say that, but then two minutes later, you’re losing your mind.”

He nudged your hand away, letting his head roll to the side so he could half-glare at you. “Because you never give me peace,” he grumbled. “You’re always whispering disgusting things until I can’t think straight. I’m exhausted, and you’re about to—”

You silenced him by lifting two fingers to his lips. He blinked, eyebrows arching in confusion, but parted his mouth anyway, letting you slip them in. The instant his tongue met your skin, a tremor of lust sparked in your belly. He sucked lazily, half-lidded eyes drifting shut like he might as well indulge before dozing off.

He popped them out with a soft, wet sound, cheeks noticeably pink. “I can’t believe you,” he groaned, flicking a glance downward. “You see this?” He gestured at his shorts, where a distinct bulge now strained. “I was about to sleep. Now I have a boner. This is your fault.”

A smug grin curled your lips. “Your body can’t resist me,” you teased, trailing your hand to the waistband of his shorts.

He grunted. “No, my body can’t resist your filthy mouth. Big difference.” Then, with a dramatic sigh, he pushed your hand away. “I’m so done. Done.”

You let your palm slip lower, purposely brushing his stiffening cock beneath the fabric. He sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “Stop,” he hissed, half-laughing in exasperation. “God, you’re unbearable. Just say your nasty line about wanting me to ‘fuck you ‘til you cry.’”

You leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I want you to fuck me ‘til I cry, Jungwon. That’s exactly it. And I know you want that too, even if you’re too tired to admit it.”

He twisted, half trying to turn away, half pressing closer. “I swear to God, you’re an actual menace,” he spat. But you felt the twitch under your fingers, proving he couldn’t resist. “Fine,” he mumbled. “If I ruin you, don’t come whining tomorrow.”

In a flash of frustration-laced lust, he flipped you onto your back, pulling down your shorts in one yank. You barely had time to blink before he thrust inside you—harsh, sudden. Your eyes watered from the abrupt stretch. A startled cry tore from your lips.

“Fuck,” you gasped, clinging to his shoulders. “Jungwon—holy—”

He exhaled shakily, setting a pace that felt half-punishment, half-lust. “You asked for rough,” he grumbled, each thrust knocking a breathy sob from your throat. “I was about to conk out, and now I’m pounding you. Don’t whine about it.”

Tears already pricked at your eyes from the intensity, stinging and exquisite all at once. “D-don’t worry,” you whimpered, voice hitching. “I love it—God, you’re so—”

“Shut it,” he murmured, an edge to his tone, though his cheeks flamed red at the sight of tears spilling down your cheeks. “You want to cry? Fine, cry for me.”

The tension built alarmingly fast, each collision of his hips pushing you higher. Tears blurred your vision, your nails biting into his arms. Suddenly, that coil in your belly snapped, a hot rush of fluid spattering out. You let out a raw scream, mortified yet overwhelmed by pleasure.

Jungwon froze mid-thrust, eyes wide. “What the—?” He felt the warmth drenching his thighs, and a flicker of disbelief crossed his face. “You just…did you squirt?”

Fresh tears streamed as you half-sobbed, half-laughed. “I—I think so. Oh my god, I’ve never—”

“Holy shit,” he breathed, blinking down at the slick coating your inner thighs and his stomach. “That’s…” A shaky laugh escaped him. “That’s fucking hot.”

Without warning, he pulled out, ignoring your tremors, and shoved your thighs apart to inspect the wetness. You burned with embarrassment and leftover pleasure, tears still dripping. “Jungwon,” you started, but he was already leaning down, pressing a slow, messy lick to your oversensitive folds.

A gasp wrenched from your chest, oversensitivity slamming into you. “Wait—no—I can’t—”

He groaned against your skin, lapping up the fluid with a low, humming satisfaction. “God,” he muttered, “I was so done with you, but I need to taste this.” His tongue slid in broad, lazy strokes, ignoring your sobs of overstimulation.

You could barely see through the tears, your body twitching. “I—I’m so sensitive, oh my god—”

“Too bad,” he mumbled, pulling back at last, chest heaving. He looked at you with a crazed mix of exhaustion and pure, unhinged lust. “I can’t believe how unbelievably fucking hot that was. I didn’t even know you could do that. Didn’t think I could get so turned on by it.”

Your cheeks flamed, tears still welling. “I—I didn’t know either,” you whispered. “I thought you were tired…”

He snorted, wiping the back of his hand across his chin. “I am tired. But guess what?” He nudged his still half-erect length, letting you see how it bobbed for attention. “You just woke me up. And now, I want more.”

A watery laugh escaped you. “You’re unstoppable,” you teased.

“Apparently,” he said dryly, hooking a hand under your knee. “Now, come here, baby. Sit on my face. Squirt on my face this time.”

Your heart stumbled, adrenaline spiking. “You can’t be serious— I might actually die if I come again.”

He flashed you a half-deranged grin. “Then die. Don’t think you can just do that once and get away scot-free.”

Before you could form a coherent protest, he manhandled you upward, guiding your trembling thighs until you hovered above his mouth. Tears still clung to your lashes, the entire bottom half of your body throbbing. “Careful,” you choked, bracing your arms on the headboard.

Jungwon gripped your hips, ignoring your oversensitivity. “No complaining,” he muttered, eyes gleaming with challenge. “If you squirt again, it better be on my face. Understand?”

You gave a weak nod, tears slipping anew. The moment you lowered yourself, he latched on, mouth devouring your slickness in messy, hungry motions. You let out a wail, overstimulation rocking your core. “Jung— oh God—”

He hummed a response against you, the vibrations almost too much. Your thighs shook, tears dripping off your chin. You felt his tongue swirl around your clit, each motion a jolt of borderline painful pleasure.

Sobs caught in your throat. “It’s— too strong, oh god, please—”

He just pulled you down more firmly, his grip relentless, his own breath ragged. Even from above, you could see him half-rolling his eyes like, This is what you get. “Wanted me so bad, wanted to cry,” he murmured between licks. “Deal with it.”

Surprisingly, you didn’t squirt again this time, but you came dangerously close, tears pouring as you trembled on the edge of blacking out. Finally, he released you, chest heaving, face shining with your fluids. He managed a tired smirk, eyes glazed with leftover adrenaline.

“Look at you,” he said, voice low. “You’re crying, you’re half-dead, and I’m still fucking hard. This is your fault.”

You collapsed to his side, breath stuttering, tears still on your cheeks. “I—I know,” you croaked, adrenaline crashing into exhaustion. “Sorry, guess that means no sleep for either of us.”

He snorted, half-laughing at the absurdity. “Guess so.”

Then, ignoring every complaint he’d had about being done, he buried his face in your neck. “You might’ve awakened something in me,” he muttered, eyes drifting shut with a lazy grin. “So next time, watch your filthy mouth… or maybe don’t.”

Despite everything, warmth spilled through you at his words. “I won’t,” you whispered, resting a shaky hand on his cheek. “I like turning you into this insane version of yourself.”

Jungwon just let out a short laugh, hooking an arm around your waist. “Then don’t blame me when you cry and squirt all over the place again,” he quipped, pressing a small, affectionate kiss to your temple.

Your entire body still hummed with leftover pleasure and oversensitivity, tears drying against your skin. But there, wrapped up in his arms, both of you wide awake and sticky, you couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else. Sleep? That could wait.

Because with Jungwon complaining and you pushing every button, the night had only just begun.

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

Riki was sprawled face-down on his bed, still wearing his loose training shorts, hair damp from a quick shower. He looked done for the day—exhausted posture, half-buried face in the pillow, letting out random grunts that signaled just how close he was to passing out. The bedside clock read 10:47, and he had to be up at 4 AM for football practice. Yet here you were, creeping onto his bed, brimming with a plan that definitely wasn’t “sleep.”

He let out a muffled groan the second he felt the mattress dip under your weight. “Don’t,” he mumbled, not even lifting his head. “I’m a dead man walking in six hours if I don’t sleep. Whatever insane idea you have, can it wait?”

You grinned, moving to sit beside him. “But,” you cooed, laying a gentle hand on his back, “I want to try your favorite position.”

He froze for a second, letting out a short laugh that sounded half in disbelief. “My—my favorite position? That’s what this is about?” A resigned sigh left him, and he half-turned his head so one eye peeked out from the pillow. “You pick now, of all times, to bring that up?”

You shrugged, rubbing soft circles over the dip of his lower back. “I can’t help it. You talked it up so much, said it was the best feeling in the world. If it’s your favorite, I’m curious.”

He groaned dramatically, rolling onto his side, blinking up at you like he was the sole survivor of a disaster. “I do love it. But it’s, like, really…involved. And I have to be up at four. If we do this, I’ll get, what, five hours of sleep max?”

“And you’ll be unstoppable on the field,” you teased, sliding your hand up to his waist. “Trust me, you’ll feel amazing.”

He parted his lips to argue—only to draw a sharp breath when your hand brushed dangerously close to the obvious bulge forming beneath his shorts. “You see?” he complained, half-laugh, half-whine. “I was literally about to pass out, but you had to show up with that filthy grin and mention my favorite position. Now I’m awake in the worst possible way.”

Your grin spread wider. “Worst for your sleep schedule, maybe. Best for me.”

He snorted, pushing himself up on one elbow. “Fine,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face in exasperation. “Fine. But I swear if you make me come so hard I can’t function in the morning, it’s on you.” He pressed his lips together, cheeks pink. “And if we do this, you better not bail halfway. My favorite position’s kinda—intense.”

“Deal,” you said sweetly, hooking a finger into the waistband of his shorts. “Show me. Or are you too chicken?”

That got him. “Oh my god, you’re the worst,” he muttered, cheeks burning as he scooted onto his knees, motioning for you to get into place. “You remember how I told you to—yeah, yeah, just turn around.” He gestured for you to face away from him, then pulled at your clothes, yanking them free of your hips. “I still can’t believe I’m doing this. I should be unconscious.”

You bit your lip, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you positioned yourself the way he’d once described—one leg bent, the other extended a bit, letting him fit behind you. “Then don’t think,” you teased softly. “Just do.”

He exhaled a half-laugh, half-groan, hooking one arm around your waist. “Don’t blame me,” he warned, “when you can’t handle how good this is.” Then, in a quick motion, he pushed his shorts down enough to free himself, pressing his cock against you. You shivered at the heat, bracing for the rush.

When he thrust in, it was sudden, deeper than expected, and you let out a shocked moan. He dropped his forehead against your shoulder, letting out a shaky exhale. “See?” he mumbled, voice vibrating with frustrated lust. “This is why it’s my favorite. Angles, control…so good.” A half-smile twitched on his lips, despite his annoyed tone.

You whimpered a bit, arching into him. “Okay, I get it,” you breathed, heart pounding. “It’s—really intense from this angle.”

He let out a breathless laugh. “Told you. You said you wanted to try it.” Carefully, he adjusted his stance, starting a slow, deliberate rhythm that made the muscles in his arms flex as he guided your hips to match him. Each motion was potent, a targeted friction that drew gasps from your throat. His tiredness seemed to fuse into this almost savage focus on the pleasure. “God,” he whispered, voice cracking, “you feel so…holy crap.”

You couldn’t form coherent words, overwhelmed by how every thrust hit that perfect spot. Your nails bit into the sheets, a half-laugh falling from your lips. “You’re sure you’re about to pass out?” you teased, breath hitching.

He grumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Shut up,” he whispered, laughter stirring in his chest. “I’m so tired, but my body’s going insane.” He rolled his hips, hitting even deeper, and you let out a strangled moan that made him smirk. “Mmm, yeah, that’s it,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering. “This is it. Best position for a reason.”

Your body trembled, overwhelmed by the relentless strokes that seemed to find every nerve. It was filthy and comedic all at once—Riki complaining about his schedule yet pounding into you like he had all the time in the world. Overstimulation built quickly, pleasure surging, your cries getting louder.

“R-Riki,” you gasped, voice quivering on the edge. “I’m so close—”

“I can tell,” he muttered, breath ragged. “God, I can barely keep my eyes open, but I can feel you clenching. That’s insane.” He upped the pace, a low moan slipping out when you squeezed tight, your walls fluttering around him. His own voice wobbled with nearing release. “We’re finishing this fast, okay? I can’t do a marathon tonight.”

You nodded frantically, each thrust a jolt to your system. Overstimulation soared, your body threatening to snap. “I’m close, I’m—”

“Me too,” he cut you off, letting out a soft whine of disbelief. “That’s what you get for messing with me right before bed. Gonna—gonna come—” He let out a guttural moan, hips snapping roughly as he lost himself in the final moments.

You fell headlong into orgasm with a cry, your nails scraping the sheets, body seizing around him. He followed you with a broken groan, spilling inside you as his thighs tensed. For a moment, you both froze, locked together, breathing ragged. Then he stumbled back, pulling out with a shaky laugh that wobbled in his chest.

“Damn,” he panted, half-laughing through the haze. “That was—like, the best worst idea. I’m definitely half-dead now, but I can’t even be mad.”

You let out a tired laugh, letting your arms and legs sprawl. “So…worth it,” you managed, face flushed, body still humming from the overstimulation. “Your favorite position is no joke.”

He dropped onto his back next to you, chest heaving as he stared at the ceiling. “I told you,” he murmured, a lazy grin on his lips, “I’m unstoppable in that position. Good thing we went quick, though, ‘cause I can literally feel my eyelids shutting as we speak.” He peeked over at you, cheeks still warm. “You satisfied, demon?”

“Very,” you replied, wiggling closer to press your lips to his damp shoulder. “Now you can sleep, unstoppable football star.”

He chuckled, letting his arm drape over your waist to tug you in. “If I show up tomorrow and pass out mid-drill, it’s on you,” he teased, burying his face in your hair. “But I guess it was worth it.”

As you both settled under the covers, hearts still pounding, you marveled at how he remained half-lidded with exhaustion yet so unbelievably satisfied. Tomorrow’s early morning might be brutal, but neither of you regretted diving into that comedic, filthy chaos for the sake of his favorite position. If anything, it just made the night that much sweeter—and the morning that much more hilariously challenging.

fin.

guys this was insane sorry abt that where did all thsi even come from

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solxamber · 5 months ago

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You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: First Years (-Ortho)

Other parts: Housewardens ; Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Ace Trappola

The argument wasn’t loud—no yelling, no dramatic walkouts—just tense words exchanged with a little too much bite. Ace had been his usual smug self, which, unsurprisingly, only made you more pissed off.

So, rather than continue arguing, you grabbed a blanket, stomped off to the couch, and flopped down with a huff. If he wanted to be insufferable, fine. He could enjoy the bed all to himself.

You had just started arranging the cushions when you heard footsteps.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, a pillow dropped onto the couch beside yours, and Ace casually sprawled out like he had been invited.

You blinked. “Ace??”

He glanced at you, completely at ease. “What? We’re sleeping here tonight, right?”

You stared at him, then at the couch, then back at him. “We?”

Ace, the menace that he was, patted the tiny sliver of space beside him like he hadn’t just hijacked your whole plan.

You gawked at him. “You have an entire bed.”

“Yeah, but you’re here.”

“That’s the point, Ace!”

He had the audacity to grin. “Exactly. So, obviously, I’m here too.”

You gaped at him, absolutely stunned at the sheer level of his nonsense. Meanwhile, he just folded his arms behind his head, getting even more comfortable.

You glared. He grinned wider.

Then, after a long moment, he scratched his cheek, his bravado slipping just a little. “...Okay, maybe I should’ve asked first.” He glanced at you, a little sheepish. “But, uh. I don’t like going to bed when you’re mad at me. So… can I stay?”

The worst part? He actually looked kind of earnest. Like he meant it. Like this wasn’t just another one of his schemes to get his way, but something real.

Your irritation wavered. Damn it.

With a dramatic sigh, you gave in, flopping down beside him.

Ace, the absolute menace, beamed like he had just won the lottery. Then, without missing a beat, he threw an arm around you and pulled you right into his chest.

“You’re insufferable,” you grumbled against his hoodie.

“Mm. But cuddly, right?”

“…Shut up.”

He snickered, pressing a quick, lazy kiss to your forehead. “Love you too.”

And, annoyingly enough, you found yourself smiling as you drifted off—because, as much as he drove you insane, Ace Trappola was impossible to stay mad at.

Deuce Spade

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no dramatic exits—just an exchange of clipped words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Deuce had been tense, his frustration clear in the way he crossed his arms, in the tightness of his jaw. You weren’t much better, snapping back at him until the conversation hit a dead end, leaving you both too stubborn to fix it in the moment.

So, rather than risk making it worse, you grabbed a blanket and went to the couch, throwing yourself onto it with the kind of determination that came from being just annoyed enough to stick to your decision. You adjusted the pillows, tucked the blanket around yourself, and ignored the way the room felt too quiet now.

Behind you, there was a pause. A shuffle of feet. Deuce lingered, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, trying to get comfortable. It didn’t work. The couch was fine, but it wasn’t your bed. And the silence—the weight of the unspoken apology hanging between you—only made it worse.

You half-expected Deuce to just go to bed, to let you sleep off your irritation. But then—soft footsteps. Hesitant, careful. He stopped just behind the couch, lingering for a moment before speaking.

“…Can you come back?”

His voice was quieter now, no longer laced with frustration, just uncertainty.

You didn’t move.

A longer pause. Then, softer, “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, already halfway to turning around, ready to tell him that you were sorry too, that this was stupid, that you just wanted to sleep—

Then you heard it. A quiet sniffle.

Your heart lurched.

You shot up, turning so fast the blanket nearly slipped off. Deuce was standing there, head slightly bowed, arms tense at his sides. He wasn’t crying, not really, but his eyes were red-rimmed, his breathing unsteady, his lips pressed together like he was trying to keep everything in.

Oh.

Your frustration vanished instantly.

“Deuce,” you breathed, already reaching for him.

He stiffened for a moment when your fingers brushed his wrist, but then, slowly, he let you pull him toward the bed. He didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. The second you both reached the mattress, you wrapped your arms around him, tugging him close, feeling the way his shoulders finally relaxed under your touch.

His breath shuddered against your skin. He held onto you tightly, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. You squeezed him in return, as he pressed his face into your neck, letting the warmth between you say what words couldn’t.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured after a long moment, his voice quieter, steadier.

You ran your hand down his back, a slow, soothing motion. “Me too.”

His breathing evened out, his grip loosening just slightly. Neither of you spoke after that. There wasn’t a need to. You just held him, letting the warmth settle, letting the tension fade.

Jack Howl

The argument had been sharper than usual—words exchanged with too much heat, frustration lacing every syllable. Jack’s ears had flattened, his tail flicking sharply behind him, while your own patience had worn thin.

Neither of you had raised your voice, but the weight of it had been enough. Enough that when silence finally fell between you, it felt like standing on the edge of something unsteady.

So, in an act of pure pettiness, you had grabbed a blanket and stormed off to the couch, settling in with all the stubborn determination of someone who refused to be the first to cave. You curled up, pulling the blanket tight around yourself, pointedly ignoring the way the room still felt charged with unresolved tension.

For a while, there was nothing. No footsteps following, no hushed words attempting to fix things. Just silence. You shifted, adjusting the pillow beneath your head, exhaling sharply. Fine. If Jack wanted to sleep alone tonight, so be it.

Then—the faintest creak of the floorboards.

You blinked, turning over just enough to peer into the dim light of the living room. Jack was there, sitting stiffly on the couch opposite you, his arms crossed, tail curled loosely around the edge of the cushion. He didn’t look at you directly, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, expression unreadable.

You furrowed your brows. “…What are you doing?”

His ears twitched. A beat of hesitation. Then, a quiet, gruff reply.

“Go to sleep. I’m just keeping watch.”

Something in your chest ached at that. Even after the argument, after the sharp words exchanged, he was still looking out for you. He always did.

You sighed, sitting up, the tension in your body already loosening. “Jack.”

He glanced at you then, ears flicking back slightly, wary.

Without another word, you stood, dragging the blanket with you as you crossed the room. Jack stiffened slightly when you reached for his wrist, but he didn’t pull away. You tugged, gentle but firm.

“Come back to bed.”

He hesitated. Then, slowly, he let himself be pulled up, following you without resistance.

The moment you both settled back onto the mattress, his tail curled around you instinctively, pulling you just that much closer. The warmth of it, of him, seeped into your skin, comforting in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

A quiet exhale. Then, low, barely above a whisper—

“…I’m sorry.”

You pressed closer, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt. “I'm sorry too.”

Neither of you said anything after that. There was no need to. The steady rise and fall of his breath, the solid weight of his arm draped over you, the way his tail tightened slightly before finally relaxing—everything else could wait.

For now, this was enough.

Epel Felmier

The argument had spiraled out of control so fast that you barely remembered how it even started. One second, it was just a disagreement—sharp words exchanged, but nothing too serious. And then, all at once, it was a mess, voices raised, frustration bleeding into every syllable.

You had hit your limit first. Not because you didn’t have more to say, but because you were just too tired. Too tired to keep fighting, too tired to keep letting the hurt simmer in your chest. So, without another word, you had grabbed a blanket and settled on the couch, turning your back to the bedroom.

The anger still sat heavy in your stomach, but beneath it, sadness gnawed at the edges. You hated arguing with him. Hated the way silence felt like a wall between you now. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to just sleep through it, to let the exhaustion pull you under.

It worked—for a while.

Then, the sharp clatter of pans yanked you back into consciousness.

You blinked blearily, registering the soft muttering, the sound of something nearly toppling over, the distinct smell of something cooking. Still wrapped in your blanket, you dragged yourself off the couch, stumbling toward the kitchen.

Epel was standing at the stove, back turned to you, gripping a pan with slightly unsteady hands. His hair was still messy from sleep, and even though his voice was quiet, you could hear the edge of frustration in the low curses under his breath.

You hesitated in the doorway, taking in the scene. The counter was a mess, a dish towel discarded haphazardly, the remnants of a nearly-spilled carton of eggs sitting precariously close to the edge.

At the sound of your footsteps, he stiffened slightly. Then, without turning, he muttered, “Go back to bed. I’ll bring it to you.”

His voice was rough, but not unkind. Just strained.

You stepped closer, noticing the way his shoulders were set too tight, the way his fingers clenched the pan handle like he was trying to steady himself. And when he finally turned just enough that you could see his face—he still wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Your heart clenched.

Without thinking, you reached forward, gently prying his fingers from the pan. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. The moment his hands were free, they hovered awkwardly at his sides—until, in one swift motion, he grabbed you and held on tight.

His arms wrapped around you, his grip desperate, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, breath warm against your skin as he exhaled shakily.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with something heavy. “I shouldn’t’ve pushed you that hard. Shouldn’t’ve let it get that bad.”

You softened instantly, guilt pressing at the edges of your own frustration. You wrapped your arms around him just as tightly, hands smoothing over his back. “I’m sorry too.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just holding onto each other, letting the warmth settle between you.

Then, after a pause, you murmured, “C’mon. You’re gonna burn the eggs.”

Epel let out a small laugh against your shoulder before finally pulling back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, alright.”

You nudged him toward the stove, settling beside him. Together, you finished making breakfast, the quiet weight between you easing with every passing second.

Sebek Zigvolt

The argument had been bad. Worse than usual. Sebek had always been intense, but tonight had been different—his voice sharper, his stance rigid with frustration, his words carrying the weight of something neither of you had been willing to back down from.

So you had done the only thing you could think of before either of you said something you’d truly regret. You left.

Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off to the couch, body still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. You barely managed to settle in before you heard heavy footsteps marching straight toward you.

Then, a firm voice cut through the quiet.

“Take the bed.”

You cracked an eye open, already exhausted. Sebek stood at the edge of the couch, arms crossed, expression unyielding. His stance was as rigid as ever, but there was something beneath the surface—something uncertain, something hesitant.

You exhaled through your nose and turned over, pulling the blanket higher. “Go to sleep, Sebek.”

“I will. Once you’re in the bed where you belong.”

You groaned, but before you could snap at him, he was suddenly kneeling beside the couch, eyes burning with unshaken resolve. His voice dropped lower, quieter, the sharpness softened at the edges.

“A knight cannot allow their beloved to sleep on the couch. It is unbecoming. Please.” His jaw tightened for a moment before he exhaled and added, “I… I should not have let it get this far. I should not have raised my voice at you.” His head bowed slightly, shoulders stiff. “I am sorry.”

You blinked, caught off guard. Sebek was loud. He was brash. He was stubborn beyond reason. But kneeling there, humbled in the quiet glow of the moonlight, his apology raw and unguarded—you felt your own frustration ebb.

Slowly, you sat up, watching the way his hands clenched against his knees. And then, instead of answering, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

Sebek froze.

Then, before he could react, you grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged.

He let out a startled noise as you dragged him onto the couch, his balance thrown as he landed beside you. The couch was too small—he was too tall, too broad, and neither of you fit properly. But you didn’t care.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, pressing against his chest, letting his warmth ease the last remnants of your anger.

Sebek let out a strangled sound, arms hovering as if unsure whether to hold you or allow you to push him away. When you didn’t, when you simply curled closer, his hesitation melted.

With a deep exhale, he shifted, adjusting his position so he could wrap his arms around you. His hold was steady, protective, his warmth seeping into your bones.

“…This couch is entirely unsuitable for sleeping,” he grumbled, but his voice had lost its earlier edge.

You huffed a quiet laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder. “Then go to bed.”

A pause.

“…No.”

You smiled against the fabric of his shirt, and he squeezed you a little tighter. The couch was too small, the position awkward, but as long as he was holding you, it was enough.

Masterlist

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade x reader #deuce x reader #deuce spade #jack howl x reader #jack x reader #jack howl #epel felmier x reader #epel x reader #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt

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eraserbread · 1 month ago

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midnight messes are no match for your husband, nanami ✧

→ afab!reader, period sex, oral f!receiving, nsfw

he wakes you up with a kiss to the shoulder, golden hair strewn about his head and a tired look in his eye. the bedroom is overwhelmingly dark, you're lying on your side, stirred from sleep.

"my dear," he mutters into your naked shoulder, closing his hand around your arm. under the blankets, your legs are tangled together. you smile into the touch.

"mm,"

"i know," he reassures, kissing you once more. "but, we're a bit bloody under here."

your eyes fly open, staring off into dead space at the realization. now that he's mentioning it, your stomach is tighter–back ringing with the most delicate of aches. you rush to sit up, pushing him away as you pull your knees to your loosely covered chest.

"holy shit kento, i'm so sorry.. i don't know what to do." you can't see much in the darkness, but you can feel. it's warm on your thighs–thick, crimson, and sticky. "I'm usually so good about... a-about avoiding this, I'm so sorry."

if you could see him through the darkness, you would see the confused sort of half-dead stare he gives you when he sits up. "it's just blood, baby. you didn't shit the bed."

if you could get any more flustered you would, but you're already burning hot and aching at his side. aching everywhere. sizzling like a vampire when he reaches to flick the bedside lamp on.

then the murder scene is shrouded in light and you're staring at him like a guilty puppy. he thinks it's so damn endearing, you're so pitiful and pretty tangled in your bloody sheets that when he goes in to kiss you, it doesn't stop.

and when he starts to dip his head between your thighs, you don't stop him. not even when he's peeling your soiled panties from your skin, inhaling the pure scent of you when he finally comes face-to-face.

blood is soaked into the mattress, past the sheets and blankets, so kento doesn't care anymore. he'll drag you to the couch after a shower anyway and coddle you to sleep, but right now, this was too tempting a situation to pass up. he licks his lips.

"god, you're such a freak. it's always the quiet ones." you're holding your breath as he situates between your thighs, laying on his stomach, trapping your thighs between his big arms.

kento's in his element, breathing in your essence like a perfume. "are you insulting me?"

"what normal man goes down on his wife during her period? mmf- it's unheard of." you bite your lip, rustling against the soaked sheets as kento's soft lips trail over your leg.

"men who are obsessed with their wives and worship the ground they walk on," he pauses, sinking his teeth into the fleshy, sensitive inside of your thigh. "and everything that comes with being so close to a woman." he's making his way up to your warm, pulsing cunt, nose digging between your slit as his tongue makes its way to your hole.

he breathes you in, then licks you clean in one thick stroke.

and you immediately reach to tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him closer, your breath sucked from your lungs. "m'god, it's so sensitive."

"focus on me, baby." kento breathes, lapping sloppy streaks through your cunt. his face is covered in it, the dull light paints his red-tinged face in holy hues, casting shadows against his most prominent features.

his fingers dig in your thighs like he'd die if you moved, so you don't. you arch your back, moaning his name into the damp midnight air.

kento does a better job at cleaning you up than you ever could in the shower, especially because he just doesn't stop. his eyes drift shut like that, red lips sucking at your sweet cunt, moaning into it when a fresh wave of bloody arousal passes his lips.

#cleanup on aisle flo!!#its the fact that nobody asks for this freaky ish but me #.nanami <3 #.the wife guy!! <3 #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami smut

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bunnis-monsters · 7 months ago

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NSFW

note: my commissions are open ><

No nut November ends early for your wolf hybrid bf when you go into heat.

You’re such a soft and cute bunny hybrid, your ass in the air and cotton tail wagging like crazy as your pussy drools down your leg. It wasn’t uncommon for you to go into heat at this time of the year, but he hadn’t been expecting it.

His red cock bobbed with need, desperate to plunge into your wet cunt. You were making such cute sounds as his fingers pumped in and out of you, wanting to satisfy your heat without having to lose the game.

But your scent, your little cries of pain and the sight of your tears made him mount you immediately. Nothing was more important than pleasing his little bun!

Being stretched out on his knot was such a relief, you needed to fill his cum filling you up. He bred you like a proper mate should, biting down on your neck to keep you still as he ravaged you.

By the end of the night he had already forgotten about no nut November.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

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moossings · 5 months ago

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yo, listen up here's a story about a little guy that lives in a blue world

#so excited for this new era 💙#carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz edit #cs55 #f1 edit #f1 art #williams racing #formula 1 #f1 2025 #formula one #mm: soft bite #mm: skill survival

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shariasweet · 1 month ago

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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 𝐐u𝓲ckl𝓨 s𝓽ic𝐤y

p.sunghoon 𝒙 f.reader

𝓦c ::: est -1k 𐙚 𝓢harinote ::: returning to my roots 𐙚 warnin𝓰.ᐟ ::: somnophilia · prone bone · thigh humping/fucking · whiny sunghoon · pet-names · f.ᐟreader

sunghoon wakes up hard.

he doesn’t know what time it is—the digital clock on your bedside isn’t any use.

all he knows is his cock is throbbing… it’s aching and leaking against the soft cotton of his boxers. the tent in his pants is suffocating. and you’re right there.

fast asleep on your stomach—-warm, soft, and oh so close that it makes him dizzy…he can practically smell the sweet vanilla of your body wash still clinging onto your skin from last night's shower.

and it’s driving him insane.

the way your lips part slightly. the way your hair’s barely tied up. the slow rise and fall of your chest with every shallow breath, your tank top’s strap slipping down your shoulder—all of it.

but most of all, your thighs…

pillowy. slightly agape. just enough space for him to press himself in between the muscles.

he tries to ignore it. really, he does.

he shifts under the sheets, clenching his fists, palming his boxers, biting his lip—but it won’t go away.

not when you smell like sleep and sin… not when there’s still a faint, sticky wetness dampening the center of your panties from the night before.

not when he’s so fucking hard it hurts.

he breathes out a curse—quiet and ragged, careful not to wake you. then, he carefully pushes his boxers down just enough to expose himself.

his cock springs free, flushed and wet at the tip as he shakily slides in between the dip of your thighs with a breathy gasp.

“fuck—fuck,” he whispers, already shaking. “s-sorry, baby… need it so bad…”

he rocks his hips slowly, dragging his cock between your thighs, your soft skin hugging him perfectly. the friction of your lacey underwear makes his head spin. It’s too much—his hands rush to your waist, squeezing and pawing at your sides.

“mm…” you shift in your sleep, muttering something barely coherent. he stills—heart pounding. cock heavy and aching. It’s not like he was doing anything wrong… you two had had the talk.

“don’t mean to wake you,” he breathes, gently kissing your shoulder. “just—just let me use you for a second, yeah? promise i’ll be quick…”

he’s panting now, talking more to himself than your half-asleep figure as he continues rutting between your thighs like he’s lost his mind, which he he feels like he is…

eventually, you stir awake completely, your eyes fluttering open softly, feeling the veins of his dick rubbing against your clit between your thighs. “a-ah… hoon, fuck..!”

“feels so good, baby. always feel so good for me.”

his hips stutter and his voice cracks as he comes, grinding helplessly into your thighs, painting your skin with it; the sticky ropes of white cum spurt from his tip—ruing your panties and littering the plush of your thighs.

his chest trembles against your back as he whines into the crook of your neck.

and even as his eyes flutter shut again, lips brushing your spine, his cock softening between your legs—he’s still whispering your name like a prayer. “couldn’t help myself… fuck you’re perfect, so perfect.”

#shariasweet ༉‧₊˚.#enha hard hours #enha hard thoughts #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut

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yoyomomiko · 8 months ago

Note

omg you should definitely talk more about marking daisuke and the other way around 🙂‍↕️ i would love to mark him up

Pairings: Daisuke x F!reader

Warnings: BITING; marking, hickeys, SUGGESTIVE (nsfw but not fully, so I guess mdni??), praising kink, small mention of dirty talking, small mention of bottom, submissive and soft dom Daisuke, cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(A/N): I was so embarrassed to write this but like UGH I'm obsessed with Daisuke so badly rn it's insane😣 Also I'm so sorry this is kinda short and rushed😢 -> m.list

★MARKING HIM

You have to hold a hand over his mouth, he won't shut up. He's whining and making so many noises❗

He's not really that much into you marking him, but he surely won't mind one bit

Leave a trail of hickeys and watch him PANIC.

He's so scared that somebody (Swansea) is gonna notice, and then scold him and also possibly you too😔

Imagine the look on his face while he realizes you left marks

IMAGINE PRAISING HIM WHILE YOU'RE NIPPING AT HIS SKIN THOOO

"You're doing so good for me," "Shit, mm, uh-huh..."

Sitting on top of him in one of your rooms and kissing him, leaving dark red marks trailing from his neck to his chest

He doesn't know how to cover them up, you gotta help him🥲

Like, he's gonna have something around his neck and when Swansea asks about it he's like

"Oh, you know, fashion."

He asks you not to mark him too high up because he's scared😔

Overall he enjoys it, not too into receiving from you but if you like it then he's all for it🙌

★MARKING YOU

Boy oh boy😍

When I tell you to get ready, to prepare yourself fully, then do it. Take a break, stare at the invisible camera for a second and then go back to reading.

UGH Daisuke is so fucking IN FOR IT

He loves loves LOVES giving them to you, he's so into it, it boosts his ego to see you all marked up by him🙏

Will gently kiss your skin before completely BITING into you, leaving so many dark purple marks over your neck and shoulders

Thinking about sitting on top of the desk in the utility room while Swansea is having his lunch break, making out with Daisuke, his lips all over your skin, leaving hickeys everywhere (might write a fic about this)

If you let even the slightest noise escape your mouth, he's gonna take it as a "go on"

Bottom Daisuke this, Submissive Daisuke that, WHAT ABOUT SOFT DOM DAISUKE??

Imagine just cuddling with him at night and he just buries his face in your shoulder. You think it's a cute gesture until you feel a slight sting and realize he's nipping at your skin (also might write a fic about this)

He's gonna gently kiss the hickeys he left on you to soothe you, he's just sweet like that😋

If you like it, TELL HIM.

"Am I doing good?" "Yes, very good-"

You can barely even talk because he's digging his teeth into you so much

He's gonna ask if he's doing good in between kisses just because🫶

Did I mention he's not big on dirty talking? I mean, he does it accidentally sometimes, but he just cringes whenever he tries.

BUT HE'S BIG ON PRAISING SO😝

CALL HIM A GOOD BOY WHILE AT IT

Will also leave full on teeth marks, just a heads-up, he's a vampire❗

Overall he likes giving marks more than receiving

"It's not accurate, that's not how Daisuke would be!!" idc these are MY headcanons so shoo😠

★yoyomiko ★miko

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viviansturns · 14 days ago

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𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

... in which cocky!sub!chris swears he'd never whimper or beg and you try and prove him wrong

cw: subbbyyyy, whimpering, handjob, blowjob, p in v, pussy eating

“You’re so full of yourself,” you said, hovering just close enough for him to feel your breath against his jaw.

Chris grinned like the devil. “I mean, can you blame me?”

You rolled your eyes, letting your fingertips drag slowly down his chest. “You really think you’ve got all the control, huh?”

“I know I do.” His voice dipped, cocky and confident. “I’m not like those other guys you mess with. I don’t beg. I don’t whimper. And I sure as hell don’t give up control.”

That made you laugh—low and dangerous. “Is that a challenge?”

His eyes flicked to your mouth. “I’m just telling you what’s real, baby.”

You stepped in closer, letting your hand slip lower, pressing over the bulge in his jeans with featherlight pressure.

Chris sucked in a breath through his nose—sharp. But his eyes were still dark and lustful.

“I could make you fall apart,” you whispered, teasing him through the denim, slow and maddening. “I could have you crying for it if I wanted to.”

He scoffed—rolling his eyes. “No chance.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and mocking. “You’d beg me to let you come. You’d sob when I didn’t.”

Chris swallowed. You felt it. “I don’t sob.”

“You will.”

You dragged his zipper down slow. Deliberate. Let his cock spring free into your hand, already twitching, already flushed deep and leaking. His jaw clenched.

“Still think you’ve got all the control?” you purred.

Chris tried to speak. Tried to say something cocky. But all that came out was a stuttering breath and the tiniest noise from the back of his throat.

You smiled.

“You’re already whimpering.”

“I’m not—’s just cause you’re holding my dick” His thighs flexed under your grip. He looked down at you like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to pick you up and flip you over or let you do whatever you wanted to him— but he wasn’t giving up easily.

You squeezed him gently, twisting your wrist the way you knew he liked.

His knees buckled.

“Oh, fuck—” he gasped.

There it was. The high, soft groan he swore he didn’t make. Cracked right out of his pretty mouth.

You looked up at him, all fake-innocent. “What was that?”

Chris shook his head, pretending it didn’t happen, cheeks flushed, lips parted. “Wasn’t a whimper.”

You leaned in, pressed your lips to his throat, feeling the frantic pulse there, despite his cocky demeanor.

“I haven’t even started yet.”

“I can take it,” he muttered, jaw clenched. “You’re not gonna break me.”

You raised a brow. “No?”

“I’ve had worse.”

You leaned in close, your breath hot against his cheek. “Mm. You’ve never had me.”

And then you sank to your knees.

Chris flinched.

His hands twitched like he wanted to grab your hair, but he didn’t dare. You licked a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, deliberately slow, teasing. His hips jerked forward before he could stop them.

“Already twitching?” you teased. “That didn’t take long.”

He let out a low, strained breath through his nose. “It’s not like you’re bad at it,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.

You smirked. “I’m better than bad.”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Because then you took him into your mouth—deep, wet, slow enough to burn. His hands balled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. You watched his stomach contract, his thighs tense.

Still silent.

Still trying to win.

So you got meaner.

You hollowed your cheeks, sucked harder. Let your spit drip down his shaft as you bobbed your head, slow and relentless. You moaned around him, loud on purpose, and he whined. A barely-there breathy little gasp that gave him away.

He bit his lip. You pulled off.

“You’re gonna bleed if you keep biting down like that,” you warned, pumping him lazily with your hand. “You gonna cry before you come, Chris?”

His eyes were glassy. “I’m fine.”

You tilted your head. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m—fine.” His voice cracked on the word.

You gave him one long stroke, base to tip, and his hips thrusted without meaning to.

“You’re thrusting into my hand,” you pointed out.

He swore under his breath.

“What’s that? Didn’t catch it.”

“Fuck. You.”

You grinned. “Eventually.”

And then you stood.

He looked wrecked, but still trying to keep his chin high, pretending he wasn’t seconds from begging. You straddled him on the bed.

Then you guided him inside you in one slow, steady motion. His head thumped back against the headboard, a full-body shudder wracking him.

“Oh my—fuck,” he choked.

You rolled your hips once.

He let out a moan—sharp and sweet.

Then immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, like he could stuff the sound back in.

You grabbed his wrist, pulled his hand away. “Let me hear it.”

He blinked up at you, sweat on his forehead, pupils blown wide. “I don’t—”

You clenched around him.

Chris whimpered.

The sound spilled out of him—high, broken, completely unlike the cocky, smug voice he usually used when he had you under him. He looked horrified the second it escaped, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe he’d made that noise.

But you could. You knew this would happen.

You leaned down, lips brushing just under his ear. “There it is.”

He shook his head weakly, like he could take it back, but you rolled your hips again—slow, grinding—and he shuddered.

“F-Fuck, stop—” he gasped, but his hands were gripping your thighs like he was the one begging you to stay.

“Thought you didn’t beg?” you whispered, dragging your nails lightly down his chest.

“I’m not—shit—I’m not begging.”

You clenched again, fluttering tight around him, and his whole body arched.

“You’re trembling,” you said, smiling like you weren’t seconds away from completely shattering him.

Chris tried to laugh, tried to play it off, but it came out ragged. “You’re—nngh—so full of yourself.”

“And you’re full of me,” you purred, dragging your hips again, slowly, rhythmically, keeping him right there on the edge.

He bit his lip. His hands were gripping you now, not for control—but for balance. You could feel him shaking. His jaw clenched. His abs tightening.

“You can let go,” you whispered, cupping his jaw, tilting his head back to look at you. “You don’t have to pretend.”

Chris whimpered again—louder this time—and his eyes fluttered shut like he was trying to block it all out, but it was too much. You were too much. His breath was coming in shallow pants now, his whole body strung tight like a rubber band about to snap.

“You wanna come, don’t you?”

He shook his head again—reflexive, desperate.

You dragged your hips down hard once, clenching tight.

His hands flew to your waist.

“Fuck—okay, okay, please—don’t stop—”

Your eyes lit up.

“There it is.”

He blinked up at you, wrecked. Face flushed, lips parted, pupils blown black. He didn’t even try to talk anymore—just stared at you like you were the only thing holding him together.

“Beg for it,” you said, gentle. Not teasing now—just real. “Say it.”

He hesitated. Swallowed. And then, voice breaking:

“Please—please let me come—I need it—fuck, I need it—”

You rocked your hips once more and he sobbed, the sound spilling out like he didn’t even know he was capable of it.

“Oh my god, look at you,” you whispered. “Fucking ruined.”

“Please—” His voice cracked, desperate and wrecked and real. “Let me come—please, I swear I’ll be good—please—”

You didn’t stop moving. Not for a second. You kept that same rhythm, same pressure, tight and wet and relentless around him, riding him like your only mission was to wreck whatever pride he had left.

And then he started to shake.

It happened fast—like his body knew before he did. His hands clawed at your waist, not guiding you, not controlling—just holding on, desperate and twitching.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna—” His head dropped back hard against the headboard. His whole spine arched. “Oh my—shit, fuck, I’m coming—”

And then he did.

It ripped out of him like a storm.

His cock twitched hard inside you, pulsing thick ropes as he cried out—sharp and unfiltered, all pretense gone. He came so hard it throbbed, his body jerking with every wave, hips stuttering helplessly beneath you. His thighs were quaking. His chest heaved. His voice cracked on your name as he spilled into you, moaning like it hurt to feel that good.

You didn’t slow down—not right away. You stayed moving, slow and deep, milking every drop from him, watching his eyes flutter open wide before rolling back.

“F-fuck—nngh—oh my god,” he gasped. “I—holy—fuck—”

You finally stopped when he slumped back against the bed, completely limp, sweat clinging to his chest and forehead, mouth open, eyes dazed. His cock twitched again weakly inside you, like it still hadn’t recovered.

You ran a hand through his hair, smiling down at him sweetly. “What happened to ‘you’re not gonna break me’?”

Chris just blinked at you, lips still parted. He looked like a man who had just seen god and got wrecked by her.

“…I think I just blacked out,” he muttered.

You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Good.”

He blinked up at you, dazed. “…Wait.”

You tilted your head.

His hands twitched, eyes darting between your face and your thighs. “Did you…? I mean—you didn’t—fuck, you didn’t come, did you?”

You bit your lip, letting that silence stretch.

Chris sat up so fast he almost wobbled. “Shit, I didn’t even—fuck, I was supposed to—” He ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair, looking genuinely distressed.

“Relax,” you said, trying not to laugh. “You were kind of busy cumming your soul out of your body.”

But Chris was already reaching for you, urgency building now that he realized the tables had fully turned.

“No, no, no—lay back.” His voice was rough, broken around the edges but dead serious. “I’m not letting that slide.”

He nudged you gently down onto your back, crawling over you, pressing messy kisses to your chest, your stomach, lower. “You’re gonna come,” he muttered. “As many times as you want.”

You hadn’t even finished teasing him when he was already shifting down the bed, settling between your thighs with a shaky breath.

His hands were trembling. His lips were swollen. His cock was still soft and leaking—but none of that stopped him.

He kissed the inside of your knee first, then lower, then lower, until he was hovering right where you wanted him. He looked up through his lashes, still flushed and glassy-eyed.

“Tell me how,” he whispered.

You propped yourself on your elbows, heartbeat thudding. “You want instructions now?”

Chris nodded, eyes fixed on your pussy like it was sacred. “I—I need to do this right.”

You felt heat flood your cheeks. “Just keep your tongue flat—don’t rush. Focus up top.”

And fuck, did he listen.

His mouth met you softly, reverently—like he was trying to memorize the shape of you with his tongue. He licked a slow stripe up your folds, then flattened his tongue right over your clit, warm and wet and so careful, like he was scared to move wrong.

You gasped. He moaned.

And then he did it again—again—building this steady rhythm, mouth moving like he was praying between your legs.

“Just like that,” you breathed. “Fuck, Chris—don’t stop.”

He whined into you. The sound vibrated, and your hips jerked.

His hands—still trembling—gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer, anchoring himself there like he needed to stay attached.

Every few strokes, he’d glance up at you, just to see your expression. Like your pleasure was oxygen, and he was holding his breath between every gasp you gave.

You felt the orgasm start deep—low, coiled heat, getting tighter and tighter with every swirl of his tongue.

Your hand slid into his hair, tugging, guiding. “Right there—don’t fucking stop—”

Chris whimpered at your tone. His hips twitched uselessly against the mattress—like even his body was still trying to please you.

You tightened your grip. “Fuck, Chris—yes—”

And then you were coming. Hard.

Your whole body arched, your thighs clamped around his head, and he groaned into you, tongue never stopping, drinking it all in like it was his favorite thing he’d ever tasted. You rode it out on his mouth, hips grinding helplessly as your orgasm hit wave after wave.

When you finally stilled, breath ragged, Chris pulled back slowly—chin soaked, lips swollen, eyes wrecked. He looked like he was in awe. Like he was the lucky one.

“Did I…?” he whispered.

You grabbed his wrist and tugged him up the bed, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“You did,” you murmured. “You good little thing.”

And Chris—red-faced and shivering—just nodded, burying his face in your neck.

“…You can ruin me anytime.”

hollyyyyy i want to write more of this hehehehehehehehe

i can confirm this is exactly how chris would act.

@cursed-carmine dividers

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