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yanderenightmare · 3 months

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part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you receive the pictures in the mail while the payment is forwarded almost emmidiatly. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all—something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window.

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?”

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

“No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.”

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunted by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.”

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.”

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting.

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.”

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is.

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer.

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars.

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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why-animals-do-the-thing · 2 months

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Folk were really into the post I made about Tandie, the zoo lion with a (then) undergrown mane due a period of time on testosterone blockers. He's having quite the glow up this summer.

But!

Did you know that manes are hormone dependent in both sexes of lion?

Let's talk about maned lionesses!

To recap the previous post quickly: the existence of a mane, and it's color, appear to be pretty heavily androgen-dependent. Neutered males or males put on testosterone blockers, like Tandie was, will drop their manes - but like Tandie, if taken off the meds, it will generally grow it back. Darker manes are indicative of higher testosterone levels, and long/lush manes are generally a good signal of a male's fitness and mate quality. Females seem to show a preference for males with longer, darker manes and other males will preferentially avoid scuffles with them. (Yes, as many comments have pointed out, that means Scar was actually a hunk. Do with that as you will.)

The fascinating thing about androgens being linked to manes in lions is that it goes both ways - females with higher levels will also grow manes!

Mane growth in females lions is most commonly seen with elderly animals who have stopped cycling and are basically in lion menopause. And they have to get pretty old for it to happen - captive lions generally only live into their late teens and early second decade, and most of the maned ladies I know about started growing manes around like, seventeen.

Not all old female lions grow manes, but some of the career cat people I've talked to said it happened to about a quarter of the females they've worked with over the years. Which... is an interesting contrast to the news articles about Zuri, who we'll meet in a bit, that breathlessly reported in 2022 that her mane growth "left scientists baffled."

Old lady lion manes are just... precious. They grow in first at the chest and then around the sides or on the back of the head, but they don’t normally get the length, density, and connectivity seen in the mane of an adult male. It leaves the lionesses manes kind of awkward, in the way I associate with very young males, and they're absolutely adorable. Prepare yourself for the photo spam.

I have to start with Daisy, because she's the only maned lioness I've had the privilege to meet in person.

I don't know exactly when she started growing her mane, but she was over 20 years old when she passed in 2019 with these luscious locks.

Here's another female at the same facility, named Adeena. On the left is a photo of her from 2021, on the right is from this spring (I think she's mid-sneeze in the photo). She turns 20 in October.

If you've heard about maned lionesses before, it’s probably because of Zuri, at Topeka. She’s the most recent one to get media coverage and she went a little viral.

(Just a side note here, but I have some strong feelings about knowledge loss in the exotic animal management world due to political/philosophical schisms. This is one of those topics where it's clear: Topeka told a reporter that the zoo had “never" heard of this happening before, but it's common enough to be well known as a thing in other sectors of the exotic cat world. There's so much expertise and knowledge being lost due to infighting between accrediting groups, and it drives me up a wall).

Anyway. Zuri had one of the best manes I've seen on an elderly lioness. It grew long and lush and she totally could have done shampoo commercials. I mean, look at this.

Zuri lived with her sister, who didn't grow a mane in her old age. Here's the two of them together, Zuri on the left, Asante on the right.

We don't completely know what's going on with these golden girls to cause them to grow manes. It's theorized to be related to the end of estrus and higher levels of androgenic hormones, although it's not clear if that's just due to lower levels of other hormones during "meownopause" or if there's something else also going on.

There was some speculation with Zuri's mane growth that it was caused by the death of the male she lived with, in some biological need to "take over the role." The zoo dismissed that idea pretty quickly, and it makes sense, although there is one other instance where I've heard of that happening before.

The cat people I've talked to say that older lionesses who grow manes don't tend to act differently - they're not taking over new social roles in their prides or anything. Sometimes they can be less active, or be a little more nervous around males, and want to be left alone more, but it was emphasized to me that those behaviors could also just be associated with the fact that manes tends to develop in elderly lionesses.

The mane growth can happen pretty quickly, as we saw in the photos I've posted of Tandie over the last year. Here's Bridget, from the Oklahoma Zoo. The left photo was taken in March of 2017 and the right in November - look how much hair she gained over six months!

The zoo did some research into what might have cause Bridget's mane growth, and found that she had elevated levels of androstenedione, which is a hormone that can be converted by the body into either testosterone or estrogen, depending. In AFAB people, it's known to have a masculinizing effect. The zoo theorized that this was the cause of her mane growth, and that the elevated levels might have been caused by a benign tumor. Fascinatingly, though, blood draws revealed that her testosterone levels were the same as her mane-less sister, Tia.

Tia is on the left in the photo below, Bridget and the beginnings of her mane are on the right. Bridget was 17 when her mane started growing in.

I don't think there's any formal hypothesis that there might be a genetic component to lionesses growing manes in old age, but it's interesting to note that one of Tia's daughters, Zari, also grew a mane. (And she grew it young! It started around age 13, interestingly, also right after their male died). She's on the left in the photo below.

And to circle back around to where we began: Tandie is related to a number of maned ladies! His father, Xerxes, was Bridget's son; Zari was Xerxes' half-sister.

Here's a few more beautiful maned ladies to leave you with. In order, Ngala, Pepper, Skye, and Dandy Lion.

Next up, and last in this lion mane series, is the story of five younger lionesses in Botswana who not only have manes but also express a range of masculine behaviors.

A huge thanks to all the folk who shared photos of and stories about their golden girls for this post: M. Townsen, S.W. Simpson, E. Day, S. Cook, M. Stinner, M. Paul, K. Vanaman, D. O'Halloran, R. Simpson, D. Souffrant.

#lions #lion #big cats #the mane event #maned lionesses #science #zoo animals #golden girls

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rainstts · 12 days

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Dangerous decision.ᐟ

the jjk men get a haircut when you're ovulating? yeah, it was on purpose

✰ including [separate] Nanami x reader, Gojo x reader, Toji x reader, Geto x reader, Sukuna x reader, Choso x reader, Higuruma x reader, Shiu x reader, Kusakabe x reader

✰ warnings. MDNI, fem!reader, established relationships, unprotected sex, overstímulation, bite marks + hickeys, thigh riďing, jealousy, throat fuckiŋg, dirty talk, dacryphilia, rough sëx, praise, creampıe, pet names, HEAVY breeďing, oral (m + f), degradätion (‘bìtch’ and ‘whọre’ are used), nipple play, cüm play, mean and softdom Suguru, kinda mean Toji

✰ word count. 6k (I apologise in advance)

✰ A/N. my ovulation was in control and i made everyone’s problem

──────〃✰ NANAMI KENTO

You knew that allowing your husband to have an app to track your cycle could turn into a bad idea someday. Still, you trusted Kento. What was the worst thing he could do with that anyway? Come back home after work looking incredibly handsome?

Yes. That, exactly.

He was half an hour late, and you were laying in bed when he came with flowers and chocolate in his hands, and smelling so good. God, it made you bite your lips just from looking at him. His loose tie and the perfect suit, it was almost too much to handle, especially when he said he had brought dinner and dessert, and that he got a haircut.

And that was an hour ago.

Now you were sitting on Nanami’s lap, riding his dick and holding tight on his broad shoulders, your nails digging on his skin, leaving red marks all over. None of you broke eye contact, Kento was too stunned for that, mouth half open and his rough, low moans out in the open just for you, fueling that feeling in your core.

“Keep fucking going, love. Don’t stop.” Nanami groaned, his voice a few tones lower than usual, lost in the pleasure only you could give to him, his sweet wife unable to control yourself in your fertile period. The feeling of his cock buried deep inside you making the two of you lose your strengths. His hands holding tight on your hip and waist, guiding you through it when you started to feel tired.

“That’s my good girl, that’s right…”

His fingers were digging on your skin like you were doing with him, still letting you ride him at your own pace. And you felt like you couldn’t stop. Desperate for more, your hips moved up and down, riding him like he taught you, just how he liked it, feeling your gummy walls hot against his dick and the wetness of it making the sloppy sounds echo louder around you two. It hit on the right spots, making your eyes roll back.

“You’re doing so good, fucking yourself on my cock like this, love.” you could feel his words turning that desperate key in your brain, making your hips roll back and forth, his dick hitting the right spots that made you moan his name in that needy tone he always loved.

“’S’Too good, Ken.”

“Yeah? Too good to use your husband as a toy, pretty girl?” He smiled, his gaze locked on his lap and the way he was filling you. His hands tightened the grip on your hips when you felt weak, and started moving you with his own strength and pace as if you weighed nothing for him. “We’re not stopping now, you’re taking it.”

“Ken- Ngh- Please!”

“Please, what, darling?” Nanami teased, leaned in to kiss and suck on the skin of your neck when you tried to babble something back. Your words getting lost in your throat when he moved his hips up and your body down, messily fucking you. Your hands moved up his shoulders to his neck, looking into his eyes with your mouth half open. “Come on, just one more and I’ll fill you up again.”

“Mngh- I can’t- Too much, Ken!”

“Yes, you can. I can feel how tight you are already,” He whispered, never stopping his movements against you and your movements against him. Your bodies colliding against the other, making that painful, sinful pleasure almost drives you insane. “Cum f’me, and I’ll make sure you’re filled enough to give me a baby, yeah?”

“Fuckfuckfuck, Kento!”

“Cum.”

──────〃✰ GOJO SATORU

It had been hours since Satoru got home after leaving to get his monthly haircut, and he still had you open for him in your shared, messy bed. Legs spread to give him the vision he always loved, your body on display for him to do what he wanted, what you loved. His hands holding tight on your thighs to keep you quiet and open for him, while he fucked you tortuously slow.

“Toru, please,” You moaned, your hands tightly tied up with the fabric of his blindfold. Your hips moved down to meet him, barely hiding your needs from him. It only made him smile, squeezing your thighs. “Faster. And harder, please.”

“Fuuuuck, Sugar. You still can handle it? Are’ya sure?”

He was teasing you, it was clear in his eyes, in his tone, but fuck it, you couldn’t care less. Every thrust, every throb, every time he looked down to see his whitish cum escaping from the sides of your sensitive folds, and every time you looked up into his eyes to see that dangerously addicted glow, both of you knew you would take it.

“I need more, please.”

“I can’t deny anything when you ask so nicely.”

He smiled, a wide, feral grin while he pushed your legs even more, his body leaning in, closer and closer when he started to push himself against your aching, full pussy, each thrust harder, deeper and faster than the other.

Satoru had his knees on the bed, placing his weight on top of yours while he picked up the pace, fucking you so mercilessly, giving in to the feeling of how wet you were against his dick. And how you moaned his name, your needy voice, tired from the long fucking sessions he put you through.

“Ngh- Fuck! Oh-n-God!” You could barely keep your eyes open, Satoru was addicted to the feeling of his dick inside your wet and white painted walls, pounding good down on you, his tip dangerously hitting your cervix over and over again.

“Heh- I felt that, baby. Cumming again, aren’t’ya?”

Gojo teased, groaning and moaning shamelessly in your ear when he felt your pussy throbbing against his dick, showing the last signs of strength while he fucked you again. With his left hand on the mattress to hold the weight of his torso, he slid his right hand up by your sides, squeezing your tits, marked by his teeth with noticeable red love bites, until he reached for your nape.

“Gotta make ya come to a good view, sweet thing.” His hand forced on your nape, your head now leaning forward when he made you open your eyes. Curved underneath his body, you could see his painfully hard cock sliding in and out your wet pussy. The sight of it making you shiver and moan louder, that same feeling building up in your core.

“Look at how good you’re takin’ me, hm?!”

“Toru! Don’tstopdon’tstop!” You could barely manage to get the words out of your mouth, already cumming while you said it. Pussy throbbing at each and every thrust inside, harder and harder. The sweet vision of you two connected like that making you orgasm even better.

“Oh, fuck, fuck darling,” He moaned loud, head moving down and his lips capturing the skin of your shoulders, leaving even more hickeys all over, marking you and letting clear that your body was his. “‘M’gonna cum too, Sugar. Fill you up again, right? Take it, fucking take it!”

Tired, fucked into a mess, your right hand moved up until you touched his nape, your fingers feeling his undercut, the hair perfectly shaped, the reason you felt so needy when he came back. The reason why you were now taking one more load from him, leaving both of you tired when he pulled out, panting, just to see your body marked by his hickeys and bites, and the whitish cream leaking out of your reddish cunt.

“Perfect, Sugar.”

──────〃✰ FUSHIGURO TOJI

Toji wasn’t exactly the type to care about how he looked, but you did. And that was why you had insisted on going with him when he said he would get a haircut. There were no big changes, just a trim here and there, but, somehow, the vision got you more excited than it should. Wetter than usual.

But Toji saw it in another way.

His woman in a barber shop full of men looking at her as if she was a piece of meat? He wouldn’t forget that. And he didn’t. Jealousy kicked in fast, even if he tried to deny it, and now that he got you on your knees, tears running down your face and mouth open around his cock, you could see the glimpse of that possessiveness in his eyes.

“You enjoy the attention, don’ ya?” His voice was low, not hiding his pleasure. Asking you questions when you had your mouth full, his tip brushing against your throat. He made you take it, and made you look into his eyes while doing so. “But you’re mine, mama. All mine.”

He looked insatiable for you, a hungry man, discounting everything he felt inside on your poor mouth. “All mine to fuck like this, to feel ya moaning on my cock. Thaaat’s right.” Toji’s hand touched your cheek, feeling how full he left your mouth, snickering at the thought.

Only when you tapped his thighs, he pulled away, letting you breathe while he pulled you onto the bed. Giving you only a few seconds to recover, Toji opened your legs for him, his thumb finding the way to your needy clit quickly, and let out his rage and jealousy on your poor cunt.

You knew what would happen to you as soon as you felt him brush his tip on your pussy, spreading your wet folds. He smirked, seeing how it throbbed in expectation for his next move, but he took his time to tease you, to fill that damn hot egotistical side of his.

“Ya see who does that to you, don’ ya?”

“Fuck, yes, Toji! I need you,” Your moan was somewhat desperate, your voice showing the signs of your used throat. “Pleas-”

The word got lost in your throat when he moved his hips at once, his hard girth sliding in and opening you for him. No giving time for you to loosen up, no fingering you. He used your own wetness and your saliva on his cock to move and fill you in one thrust. Hands tight on your hips to keep you quiet when you squirm, trying to move.

“No running away now, little thing,” He groaned, leaning on top of you, his hips rolling back just to give another harsh thrust in, your body jolting in the bed. “Ya asked for it, ‘m’gonna make you take it, inch by inch.”

When your eyes met his, and you tried to speak, Toji stood straight and started fucking you mercilessly, senseless. His hips slapped against yours as his hands moved your hips slightly up. He had his head hanging back, mouth open to moan for you, taking his frustrations and anger in you.

“Always acting like a bratty little bitch when you’re all fertile and ready for me,” A low groan escaped his mouth when he touched that sweet spot inside that made you clench and scream his name, muffled against the back of your own hand. “You won’t be actin’ like that for long, pretty girl.”

“Oh my G- Fuck, Toji! Too much, bab-”

“‘S’never too much for you, c’mon,” His fingers tightened the grip on your skin, his digits marked on you like he owned you. Your body was sensitive, the ovulation always made you feel much more, and he knew it. “‘M’gonna make them stop lookin’ at my woman.”

“Toji! I- I’m gonna c- I’m gonn-” Your babbling only made him move harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours was loud in the room, mixed with the wet sounds of your aching pussy and how wet you were, and coming more. Making it easier for him to slide in and out and fuck you however he wanted.

“That’s my good girl, now I can fill you up” The man praised, stopping just enough to move you as if you were light as a feather, and sliding back inside once he had you on fours. Face down, ass up, like he so much loved. “Gotta make you a real mama and keep you just to myself.”

──────〃✰ GETO SUGURU

“How many times have I told you to behave, hm?”

His voice was low, giving you chills at every word spoken, his eyes focused on your movements on top of him. He had taught you how to ride his thigh properly, and it was his way to give you release without touching you. His way of torturing you.

“‘M’So sorry, Sugu!” Your voice was shaky at this point, keeping your hands to yourself after he forbade you to touch him unless he said otherwise. You continued moving, rolling your hips back and forth, despite how tired you were. You still felt pleasure and wanted more.

You wanted him inside, burying his cock in you as deep as he could, just how you loved it, but he was making you pay. Only a moment of jealousy and a small, snarky comment about you trimming his hair next time, and doing it better.

He wanted you to prove to him you could do one thing better, instead. Making yourself cum on his cock was never a hard task, but now, all you had was his thigh, over and over, and it didn’t matter how many times you came with his skin rubbing against your red, sensitive clit, and his praising and teasing, it was never enough for Suguru.

“Now you’re sorry, it only took you, what, four orgasms?”

“Please, Sugu! Please, I can’t-”

You choked, that neediness showing in your voice, in your pleas, hoping he would give in this time. And continued moving, feeling the next orgasm build up in your core, your insides twitching around nothing when you wanted him there.

“You can’t, love? Is it too much for your insatiable cunt?” He finally touched you, both hands gripping tight on your waist and thigh, forcing you to stay where you were, his smirk widening when he saw your legs shaking. “If it’s too much, you don’t want my cock, do you?”

It was a trap. A tricky question. It only made you groan in frustration. The sound made Suguru push his leg upwards with quite a strength, pressing his skin against your clit and wet folds.

“Answer me, pretty girl.”

“I wan- Sugu… I want your cock, please.”

He smirked again, pressing his leg on you once more, just to feel your wet, hot skin against his. He was pleased to see how he could easily overstimulate you, and the feeling only increased when you felt yourself closer and closer to another painful, but good orgasm.

“Just because you asked nicely.”

He moved fast, not wanting you to lose the grip you had on that pleasure. Helping you with his hands on your waist, Suguru shifted your weight from one leg to his lips, his cock, already leaking pre-cum, filled you entirely in one move.

Your mouth was open in a slight shock and a wave of pleasure. The same that left Suguru with his eyes closed, and his head leaned back against his chair. None of you would ever get used to that feeling.

“Fucking heaven, girl. That’s how good your pussy feels after cumming so much f’me,” He said every word with that same fierce tone of his, the one that always made you throb, insane for the way he had a hold on you, how he controlled your body without even trying. “It’s all nice and ready for me to feel ya, right?”

“Right.” You agreed, not waiting a second. And, when you moved your hip against him, he snickered.

“Not now, sweet thing. You wanted me inside, I’m inside,” He said, right hand moving up to touch the single tear that fell down your cheek, his cock twitching inside your wet gummy walls, barely unable to control himself after that. “Now you’re on top, I’m gonna fuck you on top. Crying or not, you know how I like it.”

“Suguru-”

“Take it.”

──────〃✰ RYOMEN SUKUNA

“I had enough of your behavior today, my little viper.”

Sukuna’s voice was deep, causing shivers to run down your spine while he pulled his throbbing cock out of you. He was still leaning on top of you, his chest pressed against your back and his left hand in a tight grip on your hair, keeping your body still for him.

“Maybe I gave you too much freedom,” He started, whispering into your ear while he pressed his tip on your pussy, teasing you, testing the limits of your neediness. When you tried to move your hips against his, Sukuna smiled. A wide, devilish grin, followed by a low groan when he pushed his cock back inside you, spreading your tight, wet walls around his fat size. “And you started acting like an insatiable little whore.”

“Nmh- Kuna! Sorry! I’m sorry!” Your voice was showing signs of your weariness. Your hands desperately looking for something to hold onto when he moved back to fuck you on fours, cock filling you up and hitting your right spots over, and over, and over again.

“Now you’re sorry, my suffering?” He asked when his large left hand found its way in between your hair, pulling the strands from the root, arching your back forcefully. “Now it’s too late.”

Your mistake? Tried to rush him while he had Uraume trimming his hair. He loved and hated when you disturbed his rare moments of peace and self-care, always meaning you were going to end up shaking and fucked dumb in his bed. And he had no problem in making you apologize for not being able to control your own hormones.

In such an almost sweet way, manhandling you to any and every position he wanted, just to see how many times he could make you cum. And how many did he have now? You couldn’t remember anymore. Not when your eyes rolled back each time his hips slapped against yours and his tip kissed your cervix over, and over, and over, and over... His hands keep you in your place, holding your waist and hair.

And looking at how you were trying to hold on the sheets, increasing his rough movements until your hands were falling by your sides, turning you into a moaning wet mess when you were so close to yet another orgasm. “You’re not trying to run away, are you?”

“F-Fuck! N-no, Ryo! M’not! I swe-ear…”

“Liar.” He groaned when suddenly pushed back, making your cunt clench around nothing, missing him there. “You know I don’t like when you run.”

Sukuna held you, your body light as a feather, while he switched positions. In seconds, he had you laid in bed, your back hit the mattress as his body moved above yours, both hands pressing the back of your knees until he put you in an unholy mating press. His weight entirely over yours and pounding harshly against your poor cunt at once, your scream muffled against his mouth when he kissed you.

“That’s right, you’ll stay fucking quiet and take it,” Ryomen said, both hands pressing you more and more open for him, your sweet scent filling his nostrils, making his smirk grow. “That’s why you’re acting like a damn brat today? Got your hormones making you crazy?”

Of course, he knew, he had to know. The signs were there from the start, and made the man push himself harder and harder against your reddish puffy cunt, mixing your juices with his pre-cum.

“Mhm- Fuck, fuck, Kuna, please!” You choked out, eyes glistening with tears of pleasure and slight overstimulation. The sight triggered that same deep need in him, a low growl leaving his mouth with his deep grunts when he started pouncing harder. Deeper. So good. Forcing his way into your cunt when you opened your legs even more for him, drunk in the pleasure of being folded by the king.

And the tears came, falling down your cheeks as he continued, unable to stop his movements against you. The sight of your tear-stained face only taking away the last grip of his sanity. His right hand moving to feel your neck and pressing the sides, controlling your breath lightly and your blood pressure there, the feeling of your vision getting even more blurred, only seeing the brutish smile on his face and his red eyes rolling back as you both came together.

“Good- Fucking- pussy, my queen,” Sukuna breathed out, looking down to see the beads of cum escaping when his movements loosened slightly. “All filled up, that must ease that behavior of yours and give me a strong heir, a boy, hm?!”

──────〃✰ KAMO CHOSO

Choso wasn’t a man to have haircuts often. He always loved the length of his dark strands, and, most importantly, you loved it. So when he said he would go out with his brother, you didn’t expect to see how gorgeous he was when he came back home. He had trimmed only one inch or two, but they styled his hair differently than he usually did.

His hair length showed more while the strands fell on his shoulders, his appearance strangely clean, but so pretty and so hot too. It made you melt in a way you weren’t expecting, those hormones of yours messing with your inner neediness and your usual desire for the man only growing.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you when you were like that, both hands keeping your knees apart while your pussy was milking his cock, the girth twitching inside you, his hips moving back and forth painfully slow and his eyes glued to the luscious vision with each movement he made against you.

“Always feel so good like this.” His voice is low, not hiding the necessity within. Choso was edging himself in you, always slowing down his movements when he was about to cum. It was a good fucking torture you taught him.

“You promised you’d cum with me this time, Cho,” your voice was low, almost in a coaxing tone, or trying.

“I know, I know,” He whispers back, leaning his body against yours as he continues with that same pace. His body is shivering above yours, his panting and grunts louder. He couldn’t control himself anymore, but he tried, taking both of you to that sweet overstimulation. “I jus’ need more of you, my love. Just… More.”

The last word comes with a deep thrust, making your body jolt and that same ragged moan leaves his mouth. And it doesn’t take long for Choso to regain his pace again, faster, harder, pounding down on you like a mad man. Both arms caging you in bed while his hips moved harshly.

“Fuck, fuck, Choso!”

“I know, I’m gonna cum too, my love.” He didn’t need to say much, the pleasure took control of both of you, your mouth opening while your moans were running out freely. Sweet words and his name repeating over and over each time thighs slammed against yours. “I’m gonna cum this time, I promise- With you-”

He closed his eyes when a shudder burned up on his skin to his neck, both hands reaching for your face, cupping your cheeks and bringing you close, kissing your lips so furiously, keeping you pinned down for him.

Choso was desperate, moaning sweet little promises with his weak and drained voice while his veiny, leaking cock throbbed inside you. Your moans turning one when you came for him, again, your poor cunt tightening the grip, sucking him deeper, making room for the ropes of white cum that came right after.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck, take it! Take it all! ‘S all yours, my love.”

You were seeing stars behind your eyes before you looked at the raven haired man above you. Even after cumming and having your legs shaking around him after bringing you to your eight orgasm, Choso was still keeping unsteady movements of his hips against you.

“C-Cho…” You breathed out, hands touching his shoulders marked by your nails. “‘S too much already.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. So sorry,” he whispered, kissing your lips and the bridge of your nose softly before he pulled out.

He immediately straightened his posture, eyes darting back to your open folds and the cum leaking out. Breathless, Choso moved his hands, middle and ring finger pushing his seed back inside you. His smile only widening when he moved his hand out to see the cum coming back again.

“Already so full, my love?” Her eyes found yours, noticing that same reddish blush across your cheeks. He smiled, hand moving to finger you again, using his cum to lubricate your clit. “Cum again, and I’ll give you more.”

──────〃✰ HIGURUMA HIROMI

“Fuck, my love. This pussy’s gonna kill me.”

Hiromi couldn’t stop. Not after you took him by surprise, and he did the same to you. It matched so perfectly that he had to fuck you senseless to enjoy the night properly.

You were waiting for him to come home while dressed in your favorite nightgown, the lacy fabric hugging your body so perfectly, it made his mouth water as soon as he stepped inside your shared penthouse. His surprise for you? A haircut. With no warning. He just decided he needed it and got it after work.

Right in the middle of your fertile period. That damn ovulation that got your pussy soaked the second you laid your eyes on him, and, since then, the man was shoving his aching cock into your wet and already aching pussy. Rubbing his tip against your clit to make you cum whenever you mewled, it was “too much, Hiro!”. It was never too much for him.

“Knew you were ovulating, I fuckin’ knew it!” He moaned, breathless, between each thrust of his hips against yours. Having you on all fours like he so much loved and seeing your cunt swallowing his girth always made him behave like that.

Releasing his frustrations and exhaustion in you.

“You always know, Hiro! ‘S so unfair!” You stirred, trying to look at him over your shoulders, until you felt his right hand smacking your ass, the left grabbing your hair from the root, your body curved in front of him.

“Gotta give my wife what she wants, don't’ ya think, doll face?” His husky voice filled your ears when he curved his body on top of yours, the right hand circling your body to find your clit again.

“Hiromi, please!”

“Don’t behave now, doll. You’re gonna cum with me when I fill you, alright?”

Your nods became desperate when he started moving his middle and ring finger in circles and pressuring your clit, the feeling of your nerves being stimulated again, along with the deep thrusts hitting all those sweet spots inside, were making your eyes roll.

Hiromi kept his pace, so eager and so rough, taking all of his goddamn stress into you, cock buried deep in your heat, your juices making way for him to slide in and out with a ravishing sound echoing around you two.

“H-Higu- Fuck, love! ‘M gonna cum!”

“All for me, love. Come on, for me,” He whispers into your ear.

His movements never slow down, his hips slamming against yours, balls deep edging your clit along with his fingers. It was so damn much, and yet you couldn’t stop, giving him another orgasm, hitting you like a furious tidal wave when the squirt got him all wet, the sounds echoing sloppier when he moaned louder.

“Fucking good girl, doll. Such a dirty lil’ princess for me,” Hiromi purred, his forehead leaned on your shoulder while he seemed to try and compose himself. Even with how hard his length was pulsing against your walls. “Remember I love you, ‘kay?”

His murmurs made you open your eyes, trying to understand him. “W-What? Hiro-”

Your voice got stuck in your throat when he stood straight, both hands pulling your wrists to your back and keeping you like that. His pounding got harder, harsher. Hiromi had his eyes closed while he let go of his senses and fucked you. With all the letters, fucked. Hips moving mercilessly against you, your throat sore with your moans, but unable to keep silent whenever he was feral like that, unable to stop.

“I’m gonna fill you, love. Can I? Please, please, I need- I have to!” His words barely made any sense, as if you could even get your own senses to answer him when he had you like that. “Feels so right, ‘m gonna fill you with all of it, love. And you’re gonna gimme a baby, right? A girl, our girl, I’m gonna love you both so much, darling, fuck!”

Hiromi’s body shivered while he painted your tight walls with his seed, cumming deep with the tip kissing your cervix, twitching with his white shots filling you to the brim. The lawyer leaned closer again, kissing your back and shoulders, feeling you stir underneath his body. “Don’t waste it. Make sure it’ll catch this time.”

──────〃✰ KONG SHIU

Shiu felt his body jolting with pleasure, your tongue circling his tip, making it difficult for him not to moan loud, and louder, with each stroke. Seeing you kneeling in front of him with his cock in your mouth always made the man quiver, a glimpse of that deep lust in his eyes.

“That’s my girl, so dirty for your man, hm?!” He smirked, right hand caressing your cheek before going up to your hair, gripping tight around his fist to control your pace. “Making me lose control here, darling.”

“Are you? So fast?” You teased, rolling your tongue around his length again, sliding it into your mouth and intensifying your movements, sucking and controlling your breath and gag reflex. Shiu’s cock touched the back of your throat, and your moans against his mouth made him moan loud again, looking down and slapping your cheeks softly to make you open your eyes.

“Fuck, darling. Keep going like this, and I’m gonna cum fast,” his voice was low, pulling his hips back to give you a moment to breathe. Your hands kept steady movements, never stopping praising him.

“Before me?” Your voice had that same teasing tone again, making him chuckle.

“You know I won’t stop soon, doesn’t matter if you make me cum now,” he replied, caressing your hair, digging his fingers in until he had your strands in a ponytail on his hand. “I’m gonna fill your mouth, and once I make you cum enough, I’m gonna fill your insatiable pussy, alright?”

“Enough?” He narrows his eyes when you ask, touching your chin, silently asking you to open your mouth.

“Yes, enough. Two, three, four times… I’ll decide.”

With that, he has your tongue out and slides into your mouth again, letting you suck his aching dick like you so much wanted in that hungry, needy, hormonal mess you were. Shiu didn’t dare to fuck your throat his time, only sitting still while you kept your movements.

Often licking down to his full, heavy balls while stroking his wet girth, making the man moan and smile, his half-lidded eyes locked on yours, not wanting to lose a single sight of you worshiping him with such desire.

“My girl- Fuck!” His hands move back to your head when you start moving faster, so eagerly, praising him. Shiu’s grip on your hair tightens, but not to stop you, only drowning more into that pleasure that makes him stutter and grunt for you. “Ngh, fuuuuck! ‘M gonna cum, darling. Fuck, fucking good mouth for me!”

Shiu stops, relaxing on the couch and pulsing in your mouth, filling every space with thick ropes of his hot cum, the taste strangely sweet, making you swallow every drop and lick him entirely to finish. “Every month this side of you gets me insane, little love.”

“You know how much I need you, Shiu.” Your voice is hoarse from the slight burning feeling in the back of your throat.

“Yeah? Gotta prove that to me, sweet thing.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss your lips with a deep need to feel you closer. His hands reached for your waist, pulling you up to his lap, letting you adjust your legs on either side of his body. Hands already reaching for the middle of your thighs, feeling your slick folds with his fingers. “Sucking my cock gets you so wet?”

“Mhm… Pleasing you makes me feel good.” Your lips form a small smirk while your hands reach for his shoulders. He keeps stroking himself, looking down to see your juices getting him even more wet before he can slide in, both moaning against each other’s mouth.

“Oh, I can feel it, sweet girl,” He smiled, hands moving up to pull you closer. His hips moving with yours, opening you around his length, both twitching deliciously. “Please me a little more, will ya? Ride your man. I’ll fuck you good once you cum again.”

──────〃✰ KUSAKABE ATSUYA

Bruises.

Your body was covered in them at this point.

Love bites, hickeys, and the perfect shape of his hands marking your ass. Kusakabe loved to see every little mark he put on you. It satisfied him deeply to see how eager you got every time his lips touched your skin. How wet you were always after. And he loved going down, kissing and biting your thighs and the sensitive skin until he had his mouth on your wet slit.

His tongue was moving in circles and eight, up and down around your sweet little and sensitive spot, making you squirm and moan just for him. His eyes were close, his hands moving on your nipples so softly, teasing the skin and pinching them just to feel you jolt and groan.

“Mgh- Fuck, Suya!” Your voice was low, hands tied with his belt above your head, keeping you in place. A low growl escaped when you tried to move aside, his fingers twitching your nipples again, making your needy moan sound louder. “Atsuya! Fuck, I’m- I’m gonna cum!”

Your legs were shaking, moving aside to spread more for him while he reached for your high, gripping your nipples with the same greed feeling consuming him, knowing that those heavenly sounds of yours were about to get louder. Needier.

And it did.

You came on his tongue again, body shaking in your bed while he still moved his tongue, now down to your wet, velvety folds to fuck his tongue into you, tasting you so shamelessly and opening his eyes to watch you. Meeting the hunger in his eyes, you knew that the night was far from over.

“Why were you trying to move?” He asked, moving closer to you, towering over your body and spreading your legs to accommodate him.

“I wasn’t, Suya. I can’t control it.”

“You can’t? My love… I’ve fucked you enough to know,” his voice lowers a few tones, his soft grunt increasing when he brushes his tip on your pussy, lubricating himself with your juices and feeling how you clench around nothing, out of expectancy to feel him inside. “I could leave you like this, right now.”

“No! No, please,” your pleading fills his ear, making his smirk grow wider, way too satisfied with how desperate you get with just the threat of it. It makes his erection almost hurt, wanting to be inside for once.

“Ask for it like the good girl you are, then.”

“Atsuya…”

“Don’t get all shy on me now, princess.” His body moves slightly, left hand holding his weight beside your head, on the mattress.

“‘M not! I swear.”

“Then you’re just being difficult, huh?”

His statement makes you stutter, unable to answer. And the feeling that comes after is almost blissful, when he finally fills you with his girth, opening your wet, tight folds at once. Kusakabe groans in your ear, his knees holding his weight when he moves up, hands now holding your waist and moving harshly, fast, painfully rough. And you loved it.

“I’ll fuck this attitude out of you, princess. Like I always do.” It’s a promise, you can almost see it in his eyes, the way he fucks himself inside of you, over and over, making your body bounce for him, increasing the sloppy sounds around you two.

“Aw, baby! ‘Can’t! I can’t, Suya.”

“Can’t? But you will, for me.” He nods while speaking, making you nod with him. “That’s right. Gotta fill this hungry cunt so you can learn to behave.”

I DO NOT authorize plagiarism of any kind.

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated ᥫ᭡

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ja3yun · 23 days

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"cat got your tongue?" | L.HS

bf!heeseung x gf!reader warnings: smut (mdni) unprotected sex, cream pie, dom!heeseung, gagging on fingers, slight breath play, pwp, just pure filth from the start, hee is loving but a menace, not proof read, anything else lmk! wc: 2.1k synopsis: heeseung's fingers might be your favourite gag a/n: hi! it's me finally with a small wordcount drabble!! who would have guessed it? anyway this was heavily inspired by a conversation i had with my twin flame ruby @dollyyun , so yes babe i hope you love it!! just something filthy and fun. have a great weekend everyone

“Oh God, Heeseung, don’t fucking stop,” you gasp, voice trembling with a mix of desperation and ecstasy.

Your words seem to spur him on, his hips driving forward with a rhythm that’s sharp and deliberate, each thrust more intense than the last. His 7-inch cock plunges deep inside you, the set pace teetering on the edge between pleasure and torment. Every time he pulls back, you feel the delicious drag of his shaft slipping against your walls, only for him to slam back in, battering you deep inside. You can’t decide if you want to savour this maddening tempo or beg for more - something harder, rougher, like a man who’s lost in his own lust.

The room is thick with the scent of sex, love, and a passion that feels almost primal. You hadn’t imagined the night turning out this way; there was a different kind of intimacy in mind with cuddles and romantic movies. But it’s your own fault, really. You knew exactly what you were doing when you slipped into his favourite pyjamas - the ones dotted with cute little hearts, the matching crop top clinging to your skin, barely covering your tits. His reaction was inevitable; you had provoked the beast, and now he was giving you everything you silently asked for and more.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, each thrust driving the air from your lungs. His name tumbles from your lips like a mantra, broken and pleading. "Heeseung...please..." You don't even know what you're begging for anymore - a faster pace, a deeper thrust, anything to push you over the edge that you're balancing on. His gaze is dark and focused, a predatory glint in his eyes as he watches your every reaction, drinking in the sight of you falling apart beneath him. His lips curl into a wicked smile, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of amusement and lust. “So desperate for me, aren’t you?”

A shiver runs through you, his words sinking into your skin, your core tightening around him in response. Heeseung's hands slide down to grip your waist, fingers pressing into your flesh hard enough to leave marks, and with a grunt, he changes the angle. The new position has him hitting that spot deep inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyes, and your moan echoes through the room.

"Fuck, yes, right there!" you cry out, arching your back as your nails rake down his shoulders. Each thrust grows more relentless, his hips driving into you with a punishing, unyielding rhythm that leaves you gasping for breath, lost in the delicious agony of it all. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, blending with the symphony of your moans, gasps, and his ragged grunts.

Your hands trail down his arms, feeling the taut muscles flex beneath your touch as your fingers glide over the sheen of sweat on his skin. They move lower, seeking the hand that’s gripping your waist with such force that you’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises blooming across your skin by morning. You pry his right hand away and entwine your fingers with his, grounding yourself in that moment of intimacy amidst the ferocity.

The wicked grin on his lips softens into something more tender, his gaze never leaving yours. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his eyes speaking the love that words don’t need to convey. For a moment, there’s a gentleness, a shared breath of vulnerability.

But when you guide his hand to your lips, his expression shifts back to that familiar, dark smirk, eyes narrowing with understanding. He knows what you’re asking for without you needing to say a word. His lips curl up, that sadistic amusement returning as he watches you with a mix of pride and desire.

“You want to suck on my fingers, baby?” he asks, his voice low and teasing, but there’s an edge to it that sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, lips parting slightly in anticipation, but Heeseung doesn’t give in so easily.

Instead, he brings your joined hands back to his mouth, and with deliberate slowness, he slips his own fingers past his lips. His eyes stay locked on yours as he sucks them into his mouth, his tongue swirling around each digit, wetting them thoroughly. The sight makes your breath hitch, a new wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You’re so jealous of his tongue that you might grow green with envy, wishing it was you instead.

With a soft pop, he pulls his fingers free, and that smug, dark grin stretches wider across his face. “Open up,” he commands softly, his tone brooking no argument. You don’t even think to disobey. Your lips part further, and he wastes no time, pressing his slick fingers against them and pushing them past your teeth.

The taste of him coats your tongue, and you moan softly around his fingers. He watches intently, his gaze dark with lust as he slides his fingers deeper, teasing the back of your throat. He forces your mouth open, her stare never leaving yours

“You like that, don’t you?” he whispers, voice rough with desire. “Being so good for me. So fucking perfect.” He presses down more firmly, the tips of his fingers brushing against your tongue, and he grins when he feels you gag slightly. His hips never falter and your legs that are wrapped around his waist anchor you both together while he focuses on your pleasure.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you moan around him, sucking on his fingers as he guides you, your tongue swirling around them just like he’d done moments ago. “Nu-uh, baby. Eyes open or else I’ll stop,” he warns, causing you to string your eyes open in a desperate plea. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?” His tone is teasing and degrading but fuck does it turn you on even more.

The way he watches you makes you feel exposed, cherished, and utterly controlled all at once. Three of his digits press on your tongue as he uses his strength to widen your mouth, pushing his fingers deeper until your eyes water, and he can feel your breath coming in sharp gasps, rendering you unable even to answer his question.

The thing about your boyfriend is that he likes you vocal and demands that his questions are answered. Even simple ones like ‘Do you feel that?’ have to be replied with a yes, otherwise he takes the pleasure away from you. But how can you answer when his fingers are imprisoning you to silence?

Heeseung laughs mockingly as he plummets into you at a slightly slower pace. “Aw, baby, what’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” With each question, he bucks his hip forcefully, the tip of his cock meeting your cervix and desperately willing your eyes to close. The intense pressure has your eyes threatening to close, a tear slipping free, but you don’t look away. You meet his gaze, eyes glassy and lips stretched around his fingers, desperately trying to answer him with a look, a plea for mercy.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. “Look at you,” he murmurs with a breathy chuckle. “So desperate to speak. Go on, then, try.”

You attempt to form a word, but his fingers are still lodged deep in your mouth, muffling any sound. All that comes out is a garbled moan, saliva dripping down your chin as you try to articulate anything that might satisfy him. Your tongue moves helplessly against his digits, eyes begging him for some semblance of relief.

Heeseung’s grin widens, and with a sudden withdrawal, he pulls his fingers from your mouth, a slick trail of spit connecting them to your lips. You gasp for air, trying to find your voice, but before you can utter a single word, he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing whatever sound was about to escape. The kiss is hungry, consuming - tongues meeting in a frenzied dance. His hand, still wet from your mouth, grips your jaw, keeping you firmly in place as he devours you.

Heeseung’s hips drive into you with a brutal, unrelenting pace, his thrusts hitting so deep and fast that you feel like you’re coming apart beneath him. His lips move against yours in a heated frenzy, devouring your every whimper, every plea. Your tongue tangles with his, wet and hot, the taste of him mixing with the desperate sounds spilling from both of you. He pulls back just enough to let you gasp for air, but his lips are back on yours a second later, almost as if he can’t stand to be apart for even a moment.

The hand cupping the back of your head tightens its grip, fingers tangling in your hair as he forces your head to tilt back further, deepening the kiss to an almost punishing degree. The intensity of it sends sparks shooting through your veins, your body trembling with need. His hips snap forward faster, the wet sounds of your bodies colliding filling the room, his cock driving into you with a perfect, punishing rhythm that makes your toes curl and your vision blur.

“Hee…I need to cum…please,” you beg into his mouth, your words coming out in broken, breathless fragments between the feverish kisses. Your tongue explores his mouth, whimpering between each word, and he moans against you, clearly loving the way you’re falling apart beneath him. His hips don’t slow; if anything, he picks up speed, fucking into you with a new fervour, as if your begging has ignited something even more primal in him.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growls against your lips, his voice rough and dripping with dominance. “I want to feel you lose it around me. Come on - give it to me.”

His words are like gasoline on a fire, and your entire body seizes up, muscles tensing as you feel the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter. His thrusts are relentless, his cock driving into that perfect spot over and over again, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure is so intense it’s almost painful, your mind going blank with nothing but the feeling of him inside you, around you, consuming you.

The combination of his filthy words, his relentless pace, and the raw need in his voice shoves you over the edge. Your climax crashes into you like a tidal wave, overwhelming and all-consuming. Your walls clamp down around him, squeezing his cock as your entire body convulses with the force of your orgasm. A choked scream rips from your throat, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure pulses through you.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it,” Heeseung groans through a tremble and gritted teeth, his rhythm faltering as he feels you tighten around him. He doesn’t stop, thrusting through your orgasm, drawing it out until you’re quivering and whimpering beneath him, barely able to catch your breath.

His hips stutter, and you feel him swell inside you, his cock pulsing as he chases his own release. His hand on your head pulls you back into another bruising kiss, his tongue claiming yours in a messy, desperate dance. His breaths are ragged against your lips, his body tense and trembling. With a deep, guttural groan, he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go. You feel the hot rush of his release spill into you, his body jerking with each spurt as he fills you completely.

Breaking the kiss, Heeseug presses his forehead against yours as he pants heavily, his breath warm against your face. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your laboured breathing and the feel of your heartbeats pounding against each other’s chests. His hand loosens its grip in your hair, fingers stroking through the damp strands gently now, his touch a stark contrast to the roughness from moments before.

“God, I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft and raw, full of emotion. He leans in and kisses you again, slower this time, his lips lingering against yours in a sweet, lingering caress that has you melting all over again.

“Love you too, Heeseung,” you whisper back, your voice shaky but full of sincerity. You’re still coming down from the high, your body exhausted, jaw sore, but thoroughly satisfied, and you know he feels the same, his lips curling into a lazy, contented smile against yours.

And as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective, possessive hold, you know this isn’t the end but just the beginning of another night lost in each other.

perm taglist: @immortalvessel @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08 @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull @yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm @star-hoon @heelee-01

#enhypen smut #enha smut #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #aj writes #enhypen x reader #enha x reader

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gumified · 3 months

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SHAWTY SO KAWAII !

pairing: nanami x reader, toji x reader, satoru x reader, suguru x reader, choso x reader (all separate)

summary: what they love about you, so much so it's an obsession.

content: 3.4k, smut, dirty talk, praise, degradation, oral (fem. + male. receiving), overstimulation, public sex (nanami), tit worship, impact play, dacryphilia, dumbification

note: please enjoy this as i work on the next fic for you guys c: MWAH big forehead kiss for all of you who've been supporting!!! header is from manga called i can't escape from okami-kun's obsessive love!

KENTO NANAMI - YOUR VOICE

“louder for me darling.” nanami groans into your ear and you moan in response, voice oozing with pleasure. he buries his head into the crook of your neck and you gasp when you feel his hot breath against your skin. “let me hear those pretty noises.”

if there’s one thing that your boyfriend loves it was you, more specifically, your voice in bed. it’s so addicting and every whimper, moan, gasp has him trying to hold back from fucking you stupid. you’re intoxicating and it drives him mad when you moan his name, pleading for him to let you cum. even in the most public places he’ll always urge you to make as much noise as you could, scream his name over and over again.

like right now.

“k-kento-” your words are cut short when you feel his cock thrust into you again. your back’s against the wall and your legs are wrapped around nanami’s waist as you cling onto him, trying your best not to slip out of his grip. “someone’s gonna s-see ahh!”

you try to stifle the mewls that escape your lips but it proves no use as you feel your pussy constrict around his length. his hands grip your waist and he’s strong enough to hold you in place as he rams into your sopping cunt. each thrust it loud and wet and you feel tears fall from your eyes. it feels too good and all you can do is moan louder and louder.

“you’re so gorgeous.” nanami murmurs against your lips and he kisses you once. his tongue tangles with yours and you let your eyes flutter shut, savouring the way your boyfriend worships your body. “need to always fill this needy pussy with my cock.”

“hnngh ken - ‘s too good, feels s’good, need more pleaseee.” your incoherent babbling only pushes him to fuck you harder, snapping his hips to yours as he ploughs into your pussy. your arms are wrapped around his neck, trying to hold yourself up as you feel him plunge into you repeatedly. “nnghh, hah, f-fuckkk.”

nanami’s obsessed. his only goal is to hear those pretty noises spill from your lips as you cry for him. he loves the way you say his name, the way you plead for your release. he loves all of you and he wants to keep the erotic moans you make all to himself. his hands reach up to palm your tits, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples. you yelp in surprise before it melts into a pleasured whine as you feel him play with your breasts.

nanami knows your body like the back of his hand and he knows every spot that will make you whimper and cry his name like a prayer. he loves to hear you as you fall apart on his cock, chanting his name as you let everyone know just who exactly is making you moan like a bitch in heat. you know there’s no escaping his obsession and when he hits that spot in your pussy it has you sobbing out his name over and over again.

“kento kento kento hnngh o-oh my god!”

“that’s it pretty girl, keep saying my name.” he moans into your ear and it only makes those lustful sparks shoot all through your body. his voice is deep and you want to hear him praise you even more, you want to bask in his honeyed words as you release all over his cock. “make sure that everyone knows who’s making you feel this good.”

his cock bulges in your pussy and you feel your walls tighten around his huge length. nanami’s hand grabs your chin and his grip is almost bruising. his lips crash onto yours and he swallows every single one of your pretty moans. you feel his cock throb and you grind your hips against his. the two of you kiss feverishly, lips mashing together with no exact rhythm but it’s still as passionate as ever. he’s so obsessed but he really can’t help it.

TOJI FUSHIGURO - YOUR MOUTH

it’s hard to breathe when toji’s cock is thrusting in and out of your throat. he’s stood towering over you as you kneel before him, cock in your mouth as you try your best to suck him off. key word try. toji had given up letting you seduce him with tiny kitten licks and the slow teasing. instead he had taken matters into his own hands and plunged his fat cock into your mouth so that you choked on all of him.

“such a fuckin’ brat hm?” he growls as he fists your hair, pulling your head back so you look at him with those pleading eyes. “think y’er funny pulling all that teasing crap? keep that mouth open nice and big f’me yeah?”

all you can do is moan in response and even then your voice is choked and strangled by the sheer amount of inches that’s down your throat. your eyes roll to the back of your head as your hands hold onto his thighs. his cock is buried right into your mouth and toji’s unrelenting in his thrusts. he doesn’t slow down and he opts for a harsher pace as he wrecks your tiny mouth. your jaw aches but it’s no use complaining, not when he’s gripping onto your hair and forcing his cock down your throat.

“c’mon baby, i know you can do so much better than that. show me just how much you love this cock.” toji’s words are mocking because he knows you’re too fucked out to even think coherently but he loves it. he loves to see that beautiful drowsy expression you wear as you try your hardest to please him. your mind is foggy and filled with lust as you slobber all over his dick. there’s a wicked grin that spreads across his face as he watches your saliva dribble down your chin as you struggle to breathe.

“tell me how much you love my cock.” toji presses your head further down and you choke on his length. “such a filthy thing, c’mon let me know how much you love this.”

all you’re able to do is let out a mixture of muffled moans and undecipherable words that only widens the sickening smile on his face. tears are streaming down your cheeks and you feel the back of your throat burn from the repeated taunting he puts you through. you're so full and you feel as though your jaw would break at any second now.

“now now, ‘s not polite to speak with y’er mouth full baby.” toji leans down to take your face into his grip and you gaze up to him, eyes cloudy. “tch, gonna have to teach you some manners.”

it’s as if you’ve got no control over your own body. toji’s managed to transform you into his personal toy, using your holes whenever he wants to. all you’re doing is kneeling for him as you open your mouth wide enough so he can bully his fat cock in and out. you moan as you feel him throb inside of you. you want nothing more than for him to spray his sticky cum down your throat. it’s a messy sight but oh it’s so lewd. toji loves it so much. he loves seeing you like this. he watches as you whine around his cock, tongue swirling around his length as you try desperately to please him and he can only smirk at your cuteness. you’re all his and his alone.

he’s thrusting into your mouth once again, jamming his cock down your throat and it isn’t long until he's groaning from above you, pressing your head all the way down to the base of his cock as he releases inside your mouth. his cum spreads across your tongue and you feel the taste seep into your senses. it’s silly to say but you’re addicted to the way toji tastes and you’re greedily lapping up everything he gives you, swallowing his thick load as he pumps you full of it.

toji smirks at your dazed expression when he finally pulls out of your mouth, cum and saliva dripping from your lips. he’d never get tired of that look.

SATORU GOJO - YOUR TITS

satoru gojo loves nothing more than to bury himself headfirst into your tits. he loves to play with your sensitive nipples, twiddling them between his fingers as he watches you mewl out in pleasure. he loves the cute way your expression twists into one of surprise every time he latches onto them, sucking them repeatedly, flicking his tongue as he kneads the other with his free hand. you’re so beautiful and satoru loves nothing more than to worship your body like a shrine.

“pretty.” he sighs against your chest as his body hovers over yours. you smile softly up at your boyfriend who’s eyes are fixed onto your breasts. you giggle at the way he seems so enraptured at your naked body. it would’ve been cute if not for the tinge of lust you see in his eyes. “this is all mine isn’t it?”

you nod your head. “all yours ‘toru, only ever will be yours.”

your answer lights something in him and you see the giddy smile that spreads across his face and he buries his head into your chest. you feel his breath on your skin and before you know it his mouth is spreading hot kisses across the expanse of your body. he kisses every bit of you tenderly and softly, making sure to pay special attention to the tips of your tits. you can’t hold back the moan that spills from your lips as you feel him cup your flesh, squeezing it gently.

“ffuckk baby ‘m sensitive.” you whimper as you feel him tug at your nipple. satoru hums and you know he’s too caught up in what he’s doing to even register what you’re saying to him. he’s obsessed with you and it only fills you up with joy. “baby, ‘toru, we just showered- nghh!”

satoru doesn’t seem to care as his hands trail down your body to cup your dripping pussy and you watch as he grins. his fingers slide into your wet cunt and you moan, gripping his shoulders for support. his mouth never once leaves your tits as he continues to worship you. you feel his tongue on you as he sucks on your skin, leaving blooming red marks in his wake. your legs are wide open for him as he thrusts his fingers into your pussy. you pant at the overstimulating feeling.

“you’re so pretty baby.” satoru murmurs as he continues to pleasure you, tongue licking a long stirp up to your neck. you shiver as the cold air hits your body. his praises fill your ears and you simper at his sweetness. “this pretty little body was just made f’me.”

the words he whispers are cute yet his actions are anything but. his fingers are rough and unsteady as they curl inside you. he’s adding another finger into your cunt and you feel the stretch as he plunges his digits into you. it’s nothing new yet every single time he does it it has you keening over with pleasure. satoru’s long fingers reach parts of your body that you never could and when he curls his fingers repeatedly you jolt at the sudden movement, moaning loudly at how good it feels. his teeth grazes your nipple and you whimper when he lightly nibbles.

“wanna keep you with me forever, wanna have you with me no matter what.” he moans as he grabs a fistful of your chest, squeezing it hard so it causes you to yelp. he melts into your hold and you let your fingers thread through his white locks, admiring as he pays special attention to the things he loves the most.

“i’m gonna be yours forever baby-” you moan as he releases your nipple with a pop before focusing on the other one. “i’m only gonna be, hah, yours satoru.”

it’s euphoric and satoru smiles as he looks up at you through his eyelashes. he loves you so much, so so much. but more importantly, he loves your tits so much and he wants nothing more than to live between both of them forever.

SUGURU GETO - YOUR ASS

“look at that ass.” suguru snarls as he pounds into you. you’re on all fours, gasping for air as you feel his cock bully into your poor pussy. “you think you can go around showing everybody that? this is mine silly girl, all mine got that?”

“y-yes suguru, yes yes yes, nghh, i-i understand.” it’s stupid just how pathetic you sound as you’re being fucked open. suguru leans forward and you feel him grab your hair, tugging you up so his chest is pressed to your back. you feel the hard muscle and you whimper.

“who said you’re allowed to give everyone a look at what’s mine hm? this is my property and no one’s allowed to see it.” he delivers a harsh smack to your ass and you shriek at the contact. suguru smirks at your reaction and another slap is delivered. you feel the tears prick your eyes and it only fuels him further. “awww you crying? pathetic whore, shouldn’t have been such a slut then.”

you continue to cry as you feel him deliver harsh spanks across your flesh. the pain spreads across your body and before you have time to comprehend what’s happening another is given and another and another. suguru’s mean and he’s unforgiving and it’s clear by the way he’s wrecking your ass that he’s angry. you know you won’t be able to sit down comfortably tomorrow and that he’s currently marking your ass with his large handprints. suguru’s cock is still buried deep inside you and you squeeze him tightly at the lack of movement. wrong move.

“i felt that idiot.” his voice is threatening and you whimper at the darkness that’s laced in his voice. “so fuckin’ impatient, can’t even wait for a bit can you? just needa be fucked? god i knew you were just a cock-hungry slut.”

“i-i’m sorry suguru, ‘m so sorry, please please please, ‘m sorry so hnngh s-sorry pleasee-” you hiccup through sobs as you feel him thrust into you again. this time it’s much more rough as he fucks your spasming pussy. you cry as you feel yourself getting stretched beyond belief. “suguru p-please, ‘m sorry didn’t mean it, i-i swear i didn’t mean i-it.”

“you think some sad excuse of an apology is gonna make me forgive you princess?” surugu laughs and you feel your heart drop. surely he doesn’t. he grips onto your hips as he fucks you relentlessly, watching as you get split apart on his huge cock. he leans forward to whisper the words you know are gonna keep you up all night. “you’re gonna have to try much harder than that.”

the sensation is all too much and you feel your pussy convulse around him. a pretty white ring is around his cock and he lewd noises that fill the bedroom make you spin into a frenzied daze. you think it’s been hours since he first started to start teasing you and you can’t take it anymore. you’re so so close but you know that you can’t cum. you know that if you did suguru wouldn’t ever let you go and he would keep you speared on his cock until he’s satisfied, until you’re not even conscious. you know that but you still can’t help it as he stimulates all the places that feel so good. before you know it it’s too late and you’re squeezing around him as you feel your body collapse and you fall onto the sheets, exhausted. you’re so caught up in your orgasm that you don’t even notice suguru behind you, completely still.

“what the fuck did you just do?”

fear shoots through your body and you feel him grab you off the bed. he twists you to face him and you whimper at the dark look in his eyes. he’s glaring at you, anger flaring all throughout his face and you know it’s not meant to be but god he’s so hot. one of his hands is on your ass and you feel a moan bubble to your lips as he squeezes it hard. suguru’s eyes narrow and he throws you back down onto the bed.

“you better get to work otherwise i’m never stopping.”

CHOSO KAMO - YOUR PUSSY

no one loves eating pussy more than choso kamo. he’s pressing hot wet kisses on your thighs as he makes his way to your cunt. they’re soft yet full of lust as he moans every so often. you throw your head back as you feel him finally reach the point you’ve been waiting for. your fingers are gripping onto his long black locks as you moan for more. he’s downright insatiable and choso’s too lost in providing you with the most mind-numbing orgasm that he can’t think of anything else.

his tongue laps at your sopping pussy. he sucks on your clit and he watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head and as you press your hips closer to his face. he smirks at your reaction, sucking harder. both of his hands are holding your legs apart, wide enough for him to completely devour you. choso plunges his tongue into your adorable little pussyhole and you scream his name. he hasn’t even been down there for long but he already has you screaming his name repeatedly.

“choso o-oh my god choso choso choso!” you gasp as he stimulates every little bit of your pussy. he’s meticulous and he just loves to drink up every drop of your arousal. “p-please don’t stop nghhh-”

you’re writhing in his grip, hips bucking up pathetically as you whimper. choso presses you down, hand on your stomach. the both of you lock eyes and you see the foggy look he has on. “you gotta keep still, can’t make you feel good if you keep moving around. can you do that for me?”

you can’t resist him if he looks at you with such adorable eyes and you mumble out a strangled okay. you almost break your agreement once he dives back down to your pussy. he’s addicted to the way you taste and he greedily eats you out, not caring for being messy. you squeal everytime he lightly nips at your clit and you can feel choso grinning at your cute reaction. it’s embarrassing how exposed you are for him but you can’t even close your legs as he keeps you spread wide open for him.

“i love this pussy s’much.” he groans as he sucks harshly. his breath is cold against the heat you’re exuding and you moan at the contrast. your body feels as though it’s on fire and every lick that choso provides you with has you burning brighter. “could live off this pretty thing, don’t need anything else. love eating your pussy out s’much baby, wanna eat you out all the time.”

his words are dirty and you know they hold the truth. if choso could he would most definitely live off just eating your pussy. he loves it so much and he would be happy if he died in between your legs. you tug at his hair as you feel yourself come close to your orgasm. choso continues his rough movements, increasing his pace so it has you unable to keep still any longer. he doesn’t mind though, he holds you close, determined to keep pleasuring you until you’re a writhing mess beneath him.

“choso ‘m g-gonna cum!” you feel your legs shake and your whole body seize up. “c-choso ‘m so close, a-ahhh, ‘m gonna cum choso, feels s’good!”

choso sucks harder and his tongue swirls around your clit and you gasp when you feel him stick two fingers into your pussy. he continues to suck as he plunges his fingers in and out, drawing your orgasm out as he watches as your body spasms as you gush around his digits. choso groans at the mess you make and he’s immediately lapping it all up, drinking everything up greedily.

“that was so hot.” he looks up at you and you see the way his lips glisten and his chin is covered with your slick. choso’s so dazed and you watch the way his eyes are staring into yours with clouded lust. he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before going back down to your cunt and you don’t even have time to stop him. “give me another, please, need you so bad baby you don’t even know.”

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pucksandpower · 3 months

Text

Fixer Upper

Max Verstappen x interior designer!Reader

Summary: Max Verstappen is the most frustrating client you’ve ever dealt with … but maybe he can make it up to you

“How about some pops of color in here?” You suggest brightly, gesturing around the stark white walls of Max Verstappen’s new Monaco penthouse.

The Dutch driver sniffs, glancing up briefly from his phone. “No thanks. I like it plain.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he does. You’ve been working with Max for two weeks now trying to decorate his new home, but so far he’s shot down every single idea you’ve proposed.

As an interior designer based in a principality known for catering to the rich and famous, you’re used to difficult clients, but Max may just take the cake. Still, you’re determined to give him the space he desires … if you can only figure out what that is.

“Alright, plain it is,” you say evenly. “But we should at least add some artwork, don’t you think? Something modern and sleek could look fantastic against these walls.”

Max doesn’t even glance up this time. “No art. Don’t like it.”

You inhale slowly. “Okay, no problem. We’ll keep it artless.” Time to switch gears. You gesture to the expansive bank of windows along one wall. “These floor-to-ceiling windows are incredible, some of the best views in Monaco. We could do some fabulous seating here to take advantage of the natural light. Maybe a chaise lounge or two angled toward the harbor ...”

“Don’t need seating.” Max is focused on his phone, thumbs flying. “I’ll just put my sim rig there.”

Your eye twitches involuntarily. His racing simulator setup — in front of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the most coveted views in the principality? Absolutely not.

“Well,” you begin delicately, “Perhaps we could find another place for your sim, one that doesn’t obstruct the views quite so much. I’m sure we could-”

“No, I want it there,” Max interrupts flatly. “I like seeing the water while I drive.” His attention doesn’t waver from the screen in his hands.

You close your eyes briefly and take a calming breath. Alright. No color, no art, and a sim smack in front of priceless views. So much for design aesthetics. Time for a new tactic.

“You must do a lot of cooking,” you say brightly, turning towards the kitchen. “This is an amazing culinary space. We could do some open shelving with sleek finishes to highlight the quartz countertops.”

Silence. Max just gives a non-committal grunt, still absorbed by his phone.

You soldier on. “Or maybe some nice warm wood cabinetry for contrast? I have some fantastic artisan contacts who could do handmade custom designs.”

“Don’t cook much,” he mutters.

Your smile tightens. “Not to worry, we can keep the kitchen minimal too.” Is there anything, anything at all, you can propose that he won’t immediately shoot down? You’re starting to doubt it.

Switching to the living area, you smooth down your dress and try again. “For the living room, I was thinking we could do built-in bookcases along the back wall there, and maybe expose some of the original brick behind for an industrial chic look ...”

Max glances up from his phone to level an unimpressed look at you. “But we’re inside. Brick would make no sense.”

You close your eyes briefly. Of course not. “My mistake, you’re absolutely right,” you say through gritted teeth. Enough pussyfooting around. Time to be direct.

You plant yourself in front of where Max sits on the couch and place your hands on your hips. “Max, I’m going to be honest. I’m having trouble getting a sense of your style and vision for this space. You’ve rejected all my ideas so far.”

He blinks up at you blandly. “I don’t like any of your ideas. This is my place and I want to do what I want.”

You resist the urge to tear your hair out in frustration. “Of course, and I want you to have exactly what you want. But in order to do that, I need you to communicate with me. Tell me what kind of look and feel you envision for your home. Modern, traditional, minimalist? What colors and textures appeal to you?”

Max just shrugs, his attention already drifting back to his phone. “I don’t know. Just make it nice.”

Oh for god’s sake. You inhale slowly through your nose. “Perhaps you could show me some inspiration photos of interiors you like?”

“Nah, don’t feel like it.”

That’s it. You’ve had it with this infuriating man. You know you shouldn’t lose your cool with a client, but you’re at the end of your rope.

“Well, I’m afraid ‘make it nice’ doesn’t give me much to go on,” you snap sarcastically. “I can’t read your mind, Max. So unless you start providing concrete input on what you actually want, I’m resigning from this job.”

You expect anger, or at least surprise at your outburst. But Max just regards you evenly for a moment, then nods. “Okay, fair enough. The truth is ...” He pauses, looking faintly embarrassed. “I just wanted an excuse to spend more time around you.”

You blink, blindsided. “I’m sorry, what?”

A slight flush rises in Max’s cheeks. “I didn’t actually care about the decor that much. I just thought if I kept saying no to all your ideas, you’d have to stay involved with the project longer.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “Guess I took the stubborn client thing too far.”

You’re dumbfounded. And, if you’re being honest, a little charmed. “Let me get this straight — you’ve been wasting my time and driving me crazy for two weeks because you … have a crush on me?”

Max winces. “When you put it like that, I sound like an idiot.”

You have to laugh. “A bit, yeah.” But you can’t help but feel a warm flutter in your stomach too. You’ve always thought Max was cute in a boyish way. Knowing he orchestrated this whole thing just to spend time with you is, admittedly, very flattering. And more than a little endearing.

Max rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be difficult on purpose. I just ...” He trails off with a helpless little shrug.

You take pity on him. Yes, leading you on a wild goose chase of rejected designs was unprofessional. But the hesitant smile he’s giving you now tugs at your heartstrings anyway.

“Well, I appreciate you coming clean,” you say gently. “How about we start fresh? I’d love to actually get your real input now on what you want.”

His smile widens, grey eyes lighting up. “Yeah?”

You can’t help but smile back. “On one condition.”

He nods eagerly. “Name it.”

“You take me to dinner.” You arch an eyebrow. “To make up for the stress you caused me over the past two weeks.”

Max lets out a surprised bark of laughter. “Deal.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I really made a mess of this, didn’t I?”

“Little bit, yeah.” You grin to soften the reproach. “Next time just ask me out for a drink. It’s a much more straightforward approach.”

“Duly noted.” He smiles sheepishly.

You move to sit next to him on the couch. “So tell me honestly, what kind of look are you picturing for this place?”

Max considers the blank canvas of a space. “Honestly, I’m open to anything you suggest. I trust your taste — I’ve seen your work before and it’s amazing.” His eyes meet yours. “But I do definitely want my sim rig with a view. That part wasn’t a lie.”

You laugh. “We can make that work.” Your gaze travels over the strong lines of his face, the mussed brown hair, the wry curve of his smile that makes your heart beat faster.

As you begin sketching possible layout options, you make a mental note to clear your schedule for dinner soon. Very soon.

***

“Well, this is … quite a space,” you say diplomatically as the hostess leads you and Max to your table.

You’re immediately assaulted by a riot of clashing colors and patterns as your gaze darts around the trendy restaurant he’s brought you to for dinner. Your trained designer’s eye picks out aesthetic atrocities everywhere you look.

An art deco mirror topped by an incongruous ultra-modern light fixture. Fussy rococo chairs paired with sleek metal tables. And dear god, is that shag carpeting?

“Yes, Le Chat Noir is very popular right now,” Max agrees, seemingly oblivious to the decor travesties surrounding you.

You hold your tongue as the hostess seats you. The haphazard decor choices are an assault on your senses, but you don’t want to seem rude on your first date with Max.

A server appears to take your drink orders. You welcome the distraction, busying yourself with the wine list. But as soon as he departs, Max leans forward, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Alright, I know that look. Out with it — what do you really think?”

You bite your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gestures broadly around. “Of all this.”

You hesitate. “The decor is certainly … interesting.”

Max grins. “I can tell you absolutely hate it.”

You wince. Damn, he’s perceptive. And here you were trying so hard to remain poker-faced.

“Sorry,” you say with an embarrassed laugh. “I was attempting to refrain from judgment, but it appears I failed.”

“No need to apologize.” He settles back in his chair. “Please, critique away. I want to hear your professional opinion.” His eyes dance with humor. “Don’t hold back.”

Well, far be it from you to turn down an invitation like that. As your drinks arrive, you take a fortifying sip of wine before launching in.

“Alright, you asked for it.” You set the glass down firmly. “This space is an absolute disaster from a design perspective. It’s like the interior decorator was blindfolded and threw darts at a wall covered in paint swatches and fabric samples. Nothing goes together at all.”

You point above your table. “That light fixture up there? Ultrasmack modern against 19th century crown molding? Make it make sense.”

Max chuckles. “Quite the mashup.”

You lean forward, on a roll now. “And this carpet!” You gesture in horror to the shag beneath your feet. “This trend needs to retire immediately. It looks like an avocado fucked a bear.”

Max nearly chokes on his drink. “A what now?”

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean. Just tragic.”

Sitting back, you take in the rest of the garish space. “The artwork over there is just hideous. And that tufted velvet on the booths makes me want to scream. Who decided olive green was an accent color that pairs well with anything?”

You turn back to Max, on a tirade now. “Honestly, nothing works. The proportions are bad, the color palette is an atrocity, the mixture of styles is absurd. It’s like the designer threw every conceivable element at the wall to see what would stick. I could have done a better job blindfolded after downing a bottle of tequila.” You finally stop for breath, cheeks flushed.

Max has an enormous grin on his face. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling too. “Sorry for the outburst. Like I said, feel free to tell me to zip it.”

“Are you kidding? I could listen to you shred this place all night.” Max shakes his head, looking delighted. “I’ve never seen you so worked up. It’s adorable.”

You blush, smoothing your hair self-consciously. “Oh hush. I just have … strong opinions when it comes to interior design choices.”

“Clearly.” Max’s eyes positively dance with affection. “I love how passionate you are. And your criticisms are spot on. This place really is horrendously designed.”

You blink in surprise. “Wait, you actually agree? You’re not just humoring me?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not. My knowledge doesn’t come remotely close to yours, but even I can tell everything in here clashes hideously.” He gestures at the table. “I mean, a wooden chair back with a metal seat? Just pick one material!”

You grin, happiness blossoming in your chest. It’s such a treat to have him validate your expert opinions instead of just patronizing them like many dates would. You launch eagerly back into listing all the ways the restaurant decor offends you, with Max chiming in occasional agreement or egging you on for more.

By the time your food arrives, you’ve dissected the lighting, furniture, textiles, and color schemes within an inch of their lives. Max watches you intently the whole time, blatantly enraptured by your critiques. Your wine glass is nearly empty from all the gesticulating.

“Well, I think that covers all the ways this interior design should be illegal,” you conclude, taking a bite of your meal. “Thanks for indulging me. I know I can get carried away analyzing spaces.”

“I could listen to you trash talk bad design forever.” Max can’t seem to rip his eyes away from yours. “I love how opinionated you are. And you look so damn sexy getting all fired up about it.”

A pleasurable shiver runs through you at his heated look. Maybe ripping this restaurant to shreds wasn’t the most conventional date conversation, but it clearly impressed Max. Nothing like a shared hatred of garish decor to bring two people together.

“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoys these tirades,” you laugh. You cock your head coyly. “Maybe I could come over sometime outside of work and critique your place again now that it’s shaping up. I’m sure I can find a few more things to complain about.”

Max’s eyes darken. “I’d like that.” He leans forward with a roguish smile. “Maybe we can get out of here and you can tell me all the ways you’d redesign the bedroom in my current apartment. You know, so we can avoid making those mistakes again while you help decorate my bedroom in the penthouse.”

You nearly choke on your wine, heat flooding your face. And lower regions. Goodness, Max’s flirty side really brings out your inner vixen.

You recover and stroke his ankle lightly with your heel under the table. “I’d be happy to provide any hands-on design consultation you require.”

Max sucks in a sharp breath, eyes blazing. The temperature between you two has risen about fifty degrees in the last few seconds. Suddenly you want nothing more than to leave this horribly designed restaurant and get him alone.

Immediately.

***

“A good mattress is crucial for proper sleep and recovery,” Max declares as you walk into the upscale furniture store together. “We need to test them thoroughly.”

You allow him to lead you to the mattress section, hiding a smile. When Max asked you to come mattress shopping with him for his new bedroom, you’d naively thought it would be a quick errand. But knowing Max, you should have guessed he’d take the task of “testing” mattresses very seriously.

An eager salesperson appears. “Welcome! Are we looking for any mattress in particular today?”

“We want to try them all,” Max announces, eyeing the rows of display beds keenly.

The salesperson falters. “Er, all of them?”

“How else will we know which is best?” Max shrugs as if this is obvious.

You squeeze his arm, charmed by his matter-of-fact logic. The salesperson forces a professional smile.

“Of course, take all the time you need.” He gestures expansively at the floor models. “I’ll be right here if you have any questions.”

“Excellent.” Max wastes no time striding over to the nearest bed. He sits, then lies back experimentally. “Hmm, decent firmness.” He pats the empty space beside him. “Come try it out.”

You curl up next to him, hiding your smile at the salesperson’s raised eyebrows. When you said you’d help Max pick out a mattress, this wasn’t what you pictured. But you have to admit, lying here with him is fun.

Max frowns. “Too much motion transfer when you move.” He sits up abruptly. “Next!”

You have to smother a laugh as you follow him to the next display. This no-nonsense methodism is peak Max. Systematic and entertainingly stubborn.

At the second bed, Max immediately starfishes spread-eagle. “Well? Get over here and test it with me. It’s the only way we’ll know.” He pats the mattress insistently.

You note the salesperson observing this display with thinly veiled disapproval. But Max just looks so irresistibly eager, you can’t help but indulge him.

You crawl onto the bed and cuddle up to him happily. “Mmm, this one’s nice. Great hugability.” You pretend to grab Max in a koala hold.

He laughs. “Agreed, good hugging potential.” Wrapping his arms around you, he shifts experimentally. “But the bounce is all wrong.” He releases you and sits up. “Next!”

And so it goes for the next hour as you enthusiastically demo mattress after mattress with Max. You try them on your backs, sides, fronts, analyzing the firmness levels and motion transfer. At one point you even test out the edge support — whatever that is — with Max insisting you sit together on the very side of the mattress frame.

“Considerable sag here,” Max murmurs against your ear, his arm firmly around your waist. You have to hide your shiver at his warm breath so close. “Could be problematic.”

The salesperson looks like he’s one demo away from throwing you both out. But Max either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He cheerfully drags you from bed to bed, ticking off pros and cons on his fingers.

“Decent lumbar support, but it sleeps too hot.”

“Great responsiveness, but poor motion isolation.”

You’re having the time of your life. Testing mattresses was benign enough, but the excuse to crawl into bed with Max over and over has you both giddy. Each demo seems to involve increasingly creative configurations of your interlocked bodies as you evaluate firmness and ergonomics.

“I’m just not sure this is a good fit,” Max eventually concludes, frowning up at you from where you straddle his hips. His hands rest casually on your thighs, as if finding yourself atop a handsome man in a public place is perfectly routine mattress research.

You smother a laugh and climb off. “Valid analysis. Though some of the testing scenarios still need more data, I’d say.” You shoot him a coy look.

Max grins. “Agreed. Further testing required.”

The salesperson pointedly avoids looking at you both. “Perhaps you’d like to narrow down your top choices? I’m sure you have plenty of notes by now.” There’s a tautness to his professionalism that suggests you’ve stretched his patience to its limit.

But Max seems oblivious. “We’re not done yet! There are still at least half a dozen models we haven’t tried.” He takes your hand, pulling you toward a plush, pillow-topped display. “Now this one looks perfect for spooning. You little spoon first this time ...”

Mattress testing with Max, you’ve learned, is a delightful mix of structured analysis and shameless flirtation. You can’t remember ever having so much fun shopping. And based on Max’s boyish smile and lingering touches, the feeling is mutual.

“Too much dip in the middle,” Max tuts later, rolling you both gently across yet another mattress surface. “Though the close contact isn’t terrible.” His low voice in your ear makes you shiver.

You grin up at him coyly. “We should do an in-depth pressure point analysis next.”

Max smirks. “Crucial data to collect.”

Eventually, however, even Max’s enthusiasm starts to wane. “I think we have sufficient consumer testing results now,” he decides, pulling you up to sit beside him on the edge of a low platform bed.

You laugh. “That poor salesperson was ready to toss us out an hour ago.”

“Hey, we were conducting necessary R&D!” Max’s grey eyes twinkle. “But I am rather tired now ...”

He lies back, resting his head in your lap. You automatically begin stroking his hair and he sighs, eyes slipping closed. You take the opportunity to admire how sweet he looks, lips slightly parted and lashes fanned on his cheeks. Testing mattresses all afternoon seems to have worn him out.

You lean down to murmur in his ear. “Ready to take this mattress research home to really compare notes?”

One grey eye peeks open. “Mmm, home analysis does sound optimal.” His voice is raspy with fatigue in a way that melts you. “Wake me when it’s time to go?”

You brush a soft kiss to his forehead. “Of course.”

He nuzzles into your lap with a contented noise. Watching his breath deepen into sleep, you feel your heart overflow. There are a thousand reasons you adore Max, but these unexpectedly tender moments might top them all.

The salesperson reappears, offering you a pained smile. “So were you able to decide on a mattress today?”

You grin, fingers still carding through Max’s hair. “You know, I think we need to sleep on it a little longer.”

***

“Well, what do you think?” Max gestures with pride around his freshly competed penthouse.

You take it all in — the sleek but cozy furniture, the warm lighting, the pops of color — and smile. “It’s perfect. You have an incredible home now.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, gazing around. “I really couldn’t have done it without you. This place was a disaster before you came along.”

You lean into him happily. It’s been months since you first met Max and began working with him on decorating his new space. It was a battle at times, but you’re immensely proud of the final result.

“I’m honored I could help bring your vision to life,” you say sincerely. Though if you’re honest, the best part of this project was getting to know Max himself. The way his smile makes your heart flutter hasn’t diminished one bit.

Max turns you to face him, his expression soft. “I didn’t just get a beautifully designed home out of this. I got you.”

Your breath catches at the open affection in his eyes. Before you can respond, he dips his head and kisses you tenderly. You melt against him, the feel of his lips erasing any coherent thought.

When he finally draws back, his eyes are darker. “You know, there’s still one part of the place we haven’t officially christened yet.” He cocks his head toward the bedroom.

You bite your lip, pulse already quickening. “Is that so? Well, we should definitely perform a final inspection to confirm everything meets our standards.”

Max grins wolfishly, pulling you toward the bedroom. “Thorough testing is required.”

You laugh as he tugs you down onto the plush king mattress you’d finally agreed on after extensive “research.” The two of you bounce slightly from the momentum, causing you both to dissolve into giggles.

“Well, motion transfer still seems acceptable,” you quip. Max chuckles and silences you with another heated kiss.

You hum approvingly as his hands begin to roam your body. “Mmm, responsiveness is excellent too ...”

Clothes are quickly shed as you reacquaint yourselves with each other’s forms. When you’re finally skin-to-skin, Max sighs in satisfaction.

“I’ve been waiting months to get you in this bed.” His voice is low and gravelly in a way that makes you shiver.

“It was the longest mattress testing phase ever,” you breathe as his lips kiss down your neck.

Max laughs against your shoulder. “Worth it though, right?”

In answer, you flip him onto his back, straddling his hips. “Absolutely.”

You take your time exploring each other, hands and mouths worshiping every inch. Until late afternoon sun filters through the curtains, bathing the room in an almost ethereal glow.

When Max finally sinks into you, you moan softly at the exquisite fullness. “Oh yes, this mattress has great ergonomics,” you sigh dreamily.

Max huffs a laugh, his chest vibrating against yours. “I’ll be sure to mention that in my product review.”

You grin and shift your hips experimentally, making him groan. “The responsiveness really is top-notch.”

“We should still test a few more positions though,” Max murmurs. “Just to be thorough.”

You happily comply, indulging in acrobatic mattress testing that leaves you both blissfully satisfied and out of breath. As you lay tangled together afterwards, endorphins still flooding your systems, Max presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Well, I’d say the new bed passes inspection with flying colors,” he declares with sleepy satisfaction.

You laugh and stroke his hair. “Agreed. You chose an excellent mattress.” You snuggle closer. “Though the company in it is what I really enjoy.”

Max tightens his arms around you. “Think you can put up with me and my high-maintenance decor demands a while longer?” His voice holds a vulnerable note beneath the teasing.

Your heart swells and you cup his face. “Max Verstappen, I’ll critique mattresses and furniture with you any day. As long as at the end of it, I get to fall asleep next to you.”

His smile outshines the lowering sun. “Deal.”

***

“You know what I love most about how our place looks now?” Max murmurs, his arms wrapped around you on the couch.

You tear your eyes from the awful reality show you’re watching to glance up at him. “Hmm?”

His gaze sweeps over the living room, a small smile on his lips. “All the little touches that are just so you.”

You follow his look around the penthouse that over the past year has transformed from Max’s bachelor pad to your shared home. It’s still sleek and modern overall, but with warm accents reflecting both your styles.

And yes, you realize, your personal influence shows in the decor now that you live here full time. The mugs hung on hooks in the kitchen, the plush blankets tossed artfully on the chairs, the bowls of sea glass collected from beach walks that adorn the tables.

Your heart swells looking at the traces of yourself woven into Max’s space. “It does feel more like home now, doesn’t it?”

Max nods, dropping a kiss to your hair. “It’s perfect. I love coming back after a race and being surrounded by reminders of you.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace, incredibly touched. “Well, I promise to keep leaving my clutter around to make you feel at home.”

He chuckles. “Please do. It’s my favorite kind of clutter.”

Smiling softly, you think back to when you first started dating Max after working on his penthouse makeover. Who could have guessed that would lead to sharing this life together?

Your gaze lands on a shelf displaying photos of the two of you, and your throat grows tight. There’s you and Max laughing on vacation, kissing right after he won his fourth world championship, curled up with hot chocolate on a ski trip. So many beautiful memories.

“It’s hard to remember what this place even looked like before,” you murmur. And not just the decor — it’s hard to recall your life before Max.

He rubs your shoulder idly, eyes faraway. “I know what you mean. It’s like you’ve always been here.” His voice holds a note of wonder.

You lift your head to meet his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Max’s eyes shine. He bends to kiss you, soft and heartfelt. Your lips curve against his.

When you reluctantly draw back, the television screen catches your eye. You cringe at the fake drama unfolding.

“Ugh, this show is terrible,” you groan. “Can we watch something else?”

Max grins and grabs the remote, flipping through channels. He eventually lands on a home renovation program you both enjoy analyzing and critiquing together. Some things never change.

You settle in eagerly as the show starts, scrutinizing the design choices. Max wraps an arm around you, idly playing with your hair as you watch.

Despite the show’s flaws, being curled up with Max like this fills you with utter contentment. You can’t imagine anything better than coming home to his smile and laugh each day.

During commercials, you fetch snacks from the kitchen, navigating the space with ease. Max trails behind to steal bites, ever drawn to food.

You swat his hand away from the chocolate you’re preparing and laugh. “Get your paws off, those are for sharing!”

Max just tugs you close and kisses the protest from your lips. You happily let him devour the sweetness from your mouth instead, the chocolate forgotten.

Finally you collapse back on the couch together, munching and critiquing the show’s poor tile work. Max throws popcorn for you to catch, his aim as impressive as his racing lines.

Your eyes droop as the evening wears on. The cozy penthouse, tasty snacks, and Max’s warmth — it’s the perfect recipe for relaxation.

When your head nods against Max’s shoulder for the third time, he chuckles and clicks the tv off. “Alright sleepyhead, time for bed.”

You make a half-hearted noise of protest but let him pull you up. Max keeps an arm securely around you as he leads the way to the bedroom, knowing you’re prone to stumbling when tired. It makes you feel so cared for.

He even helps you change into your nightgown, his hands impossibly gentle. As you finally crawl under the blankets, you let out a massive yawn.

“Night Maxie,” you mumble, already mostly asleep. He gathers you close and presses a kiss to your hair.

“Sweet dreams, liefje.” His voice is impossibly soft. You float away cradled in his warmth and the knowledge you’re home.

The next morning, you wake slowly to sunlight streaming in the windows and the smell of coffee. Stretching languorously, you take a moment just to soak it in.

Muffled sounds drift in from the kitchen signaling Max is already up and at ‘em. You smile sleepily. The man has the energy of a hyper puppy.

Before you can muster the will to leave bed, Max appears holding two mugs. “Morning schatje,” he greets with a smile. “Thought you might need some caffeine.”

You beam and make grabby hands until he passes you a mug. The rich aroma instantly perks you up.

Max slides in next to you, sipping his own coffee. His hair is adorably mussed and you gently smooth it down before cupping his face and bringing him in for a long, thorough good morning kiss.

When you finally separate, Max looks pleasingly dazed. “Well, that’s certainly one way to wake up.”

You grin cheekily and go back to your coffee. Max wraps an arm around you and you lean into his solid warmth, trading occasional lazy kisses between sips.

Sun streams over your entwined forms as you bask in contented silence. Eventually you stretch and make your way to the bathroom to start the day, dropping a kiss to Max’s hair as you pass.

You smile seeing your hairbrush by the sink, pink toothbrush next to Max’s blue one. Such small signs of your merged lives, but they mean the world.

Refreshed, you return to Max sprawled on the bed with his phone. He immediately opens his arms in clear demand for more cuddles. Laughing, you collapse into them happily.

Nuzzling into his chest, you sigh. “I know I was practically unconscious last night, but just wanted to say again how special it is having pieces of us both around the place now.”

Max’s arms tighten around you. “You being here makes it a home, not just an apartment.” His voice catches slightly. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, your own suddenly misty. No words can encapsulate what it means to build a life and home with this incredible man.

So you tell him silently instead, with a kiss overflowing with love and promise: I’ll stay by your side as long as I’m welcome.

Judging by Max’s arm anchoring you fiercely to him, that will be a good long while. You melt into his embrace, spirits soaring.

No fancy penthouse or perfect decor could compare to what you’ve found with Max — a home rooted in love, laughter, and devotion.

One look at his tender smile and you know he feels it too. This is everything.

So you’ll happily leave your mugs around the sink and blankets on the chairs, weaving threads of yourself into his space. With each passing day, it matters less whose belongings lie where.

Because home isn’t things — it’s the man gazing at you like you’re his whole world. And you know as long as you’re together, any place will feel just right.

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slytherinslut0 · 4 months

Note

I CAN'T stop thinking about mattheo riddle with shy reader and edging nd overstimulation! please!!! 🥹

TAGS: 18+, smut, overstim, fingering/oral fem receiving, multi orgasm, begging, daddy kink (mattheo calls himself daddy (rightfully so), slight edging but heavier on the multi orgasm, dirty talk, praise kink.

well, anon, aren’t you so cute. begging for me so nicely like that hmm?🤭

Which is similar to what Matty would say as he’s kneeled in front of you, his fingers buried knuckle deep inside your cunt and thumb swirling over your clit—his movements slow, methodical, precise—since you’ve already cum twice and now he’s just teasing you for the fun of it, unable to pull away from you regardless of how much you squirm because your noises are just so fucking sexy and you’re so wrecked for him he’s never seen you look so beautiful.

“Matty, m’gonna—ohh—“

Your words are sliced by a whimper, your voice shattered cracked and fucking split into a million tiny pleasured pieces, back arching off the desk and eyes squeezing shut as he pumps you agonizingly slowly, his lips moving closer to your clit, teasing you with his breath until his tongue darts out to replace his thumb.

“That’s it, princess—give it all to me, baby..”

His words, muttered huskily against your dripping cunt, only add to your already mindblowing experience and the string inside you snaps in an instant, your third orgasm rolling through you so hard you damn near scream—and normally you’d be thankful that Mattheo had the presence of a mind to cast a silencing charm before all of this started, but at the moment you can’t find it in you to give a shit who the hell hears you.

You almost wished people could hear how fucking good he was making you feel—how fucking unhinged he'd driven you. You grip onto his hair so hard it feels like you’re trying to pry it from his scalp, your face burning and your body shaking. However, unfazed, Mattheo continues pumping and licking you through your high—only slowing slightly when your whimpers turn to pleas and you begin pushing him away.

He pulls his fingers out to lap up your release, and your ears ring, a shattered cry clogging in your throat. “Matty!—s’too much..t-too much—fuck…”

Both hands shift to your hips, gripping you tight and holding you in place as he mutters; “Mm—not yet..”

“Please—“ you moan, entirely against your fucking will, overstimulation making your head spin as you try to wriggle away from him but he doesn’t relent, determined to push you through it. “I—I can’t—Matty, I…ohhh…”

“Yes you can.” He grumbles against your cunt, the deep vibration of his voice making you gasp. “You can take it, for me…”

“Matty—“ your toes curl and your thighs clench around his head as he gives you a slow, languid, drawn-out lick before sealing his lips around your clit again and suckling gently. He’s attuned to your body, knowing exactly how to work you through overstimulation. “Mattheo—fuck—“

“That’s it…give me a little more, princess..I know you can…” he murmurs as he shifts his hold on you, palm pressing down on your pelvis, other hand moving back to tease your core again, gently pushing a finger into you while swirling over your clit. “You taste so fucking good…don’t wanna’ stop…”

Your head rolls back the second he eases his finger into you, clenching hard around it as he gently pumps in and out—dragging at your walls, pushing into the knuckle and curling slightly—everything he knows will drive you utterly fucking insane.

“Gods! Mattheo! fuck—“ oxygen was no longer in the room and you weren’t even sure if it existed anymore at all, unable to focus on anything other then his ministrations, his tongue rolling over your clit. “I-I-can’t—I can’t cum again—s’too soon…s’too much…”

“Shh, I got you…you’re okay, princess…” he cooes into your cunt, kissing at your clit as if attempting to soothe you, his breath warm and his voice low. Slowly, he adds a second digit inside you, his fingers curling just right to keep building the pleasure with an agonizing, deliberate slowness. “Daddy’s got you, baby…”

“Matt—“ there’s an edge to your voice now, frustrated and overwhelmed, your words tangling with the sheer intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. You don’t know what to do with it all, your hands shifting to clutch at the desk beneath you, knuckles cracking with the force of your grip. “It’s so fucking much, Matty—m’so sensitive—“

“I know, baby…” he mumbles, eyes fixed on his fingers disappearing into your soaked, aching cunt. You were one hundred percent certain he had no idea what you just said until he proves you wrong. “I know you’re sensitive, princess…but you’re doing so good f’me…”

And before you can even consider a response his lips are back on you, sealing around your clit and turning your vision blank—your hands shooting into his hair as though it could somehow ground you to reality—even though you knew you were long, long past that.

You can't control a single noise leaving your throat at this point. You're at the mercy of Mattheo Riddle—every swirl of his tongue and slow thrust of his fingers sending sparks shooting through every last nerve ending in your system. You're caught between pushing him away and bucking your hips toward him for more. Your brain is a scrambled mess, unable to effectively decipher and relay what it is that you want or need.

“M-Matt-y…G-gods!…”

Your fourth orgasm charges through you without mercy. You're gasping, whimpering, moaning, and crying out his name—all in a frequency barely coherent. Mattheo grins against your cunt, eagerly chasing your release, holding you tight as you squirm and shake, groaning against you as he relishes every last noise you make.

"That's it, baby...mm, good girl.." he coos through a choked groan, unable to get enough of how deliciously you break for him, how perfectly responsive to him you are. "Always so fucking good f'me..."

He pulls his fingers out slowly, the slick sound of your arousal filling the room until his groan overpowers it when he draws them into his mouth. He meets your eyes from between your thighs and you whimper, still twitching from the aftershocks—your body a trembling mess of overstimulated nerves.

“Look at you,” Mattheo's gaze never wavers, dark and hungry, as if he's already plotting how to bring you to the brink again. His fingers slip from his mouth with a soft pop, and he leans in to place a tender kiss on the inside of your thigh. “So fucking pretty…completely wrecked just f’me..”

Coming down from your high, a wave of embarrassment crashes over you as you realize the absolute mess you've made. Mattheo did a good job of containing it, but you can feel your wetness soaking the desk beneath you and the thought of meeting his eyes becomes almost unbearable. You whinge as he leans in, giving your pussy soft kisses, your hands shooting up to hide your face from him.

“Hey…hey…don’t look away from me..” he murmurs almost instantly, his voice deep and firm but soft and low. He softly nips at your inner thigh, planting gentle kisses over your mound as he trails to the other. One of his hands reaches up to remove your hands from your face. "Why are you getting shy on me, baby...hm? You embarrassed of the mess daddy's made of you?"

“Matty…” you whine, still trying to look away from him until he shifts his hand to your jaw and forces your eyes to his. “Please..”

“I’ll make you messier, princess…” he mutters, holding your gaze as he presses another kiss to your swollen clit. “I think you’ve got a few more in you.”

His fingers gently part your folds, testing your sensitivity with a deliberate slowness designed to provoke your rawest reactions. You groan, your back arching involuntarily, a helpless response to his touch. Your hands instinctively fly up to your face again, attempting to shield your embarrassment—but he intercepts them with a firm grip, pinning your wrists against your chest with one of his strong hands.

“No hiding, baby…I wanna’ see you…wanna’ see you break f’me…” he coaxes tenderly. “So perfect…pussys’ so perfect…”

His thumb finds your clit, circling it slowly, while his fingers continue their maddeningly slow movements, toying with you, enjoying the sounds of your arousal. His praise and possessiveness works to chip away at your embarrassment, though your face burns as you moan again.

"See? Nothing to be shy about," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your thigh. "You're perfect just like this, falling apart for me…fucking love seeing what I do to you..."

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

Text

SOMETIMES I LONG TO EAT YOU UP ; RYŌMEN SUKUNA

synopsis; sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you. he cooks for you, instead.

word count; 6.0k

contents; ryōmen sukuna/reader, gn!reader, househusband!sukuna, no curses au, fluff fluff fluff!!, sukuna is Whipped bc i say so, (he bullies you a bit but he does so lovingly), lots of cooking and descriptions of food, implied reincarnation au if you reeaalllyyyyy squint (but feel free to ignore it if that’s not your thing!!), reader is a silly goose, sukuna vs human emotion (he loses), he’s ooc but he’s Free

a/n; >:3 is anyone shocked….. that’s right. ari is in fact capable of writing for characters who aren’t stsg….. this one has been in my wips for Many Months now but i finally finished it!! i just think being in a nice warm kitchen could fix him. (super cute dividers by @/enchanthings !!)

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you.

throughout the years you've been together, it's something you've grown used to. words like love must feel foreign in his mouth — even more so when they slip into the air, voiced, manifested.

discomforting, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.

he only says it under certain conditions, little moments here and there, all of them memorable; a particularly sentimental midnight drive, that time you broke down sobbing into his chest after a rough day, the night he proposed. and so on. little moments, precious moments, few and far between.

that’s just how sukuna is. unaccustomed to being loved, even more unaccustomed to being in love. swallowing the words down, afraid of what could happen if he spoke them aloud, through more than a mere whisper. as if they could burn you.

you don’t mind, because you know him. and you know that he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it nearly as often as you do.

sukuna shows his love for you in other ways. driving you wherever you need to be, holding you to his chest when you’re sleepy, watching reality shows with you even though he hates them; always watching over you, making sure you’re safe and happy, almost hunting for anything that could disturb your peace. you can feel that love, almost reach out and touch it — a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through large crowds, a bouquet of camellias waiting for you on the kitchen table as soon as you get home. it’s there. concrete.

but, above all else… sukuna translates his boundless love into food.

the sun rises outside the walls of your apartment, slow and steady, hazy sunlight flitting through the windows of your kitchen and dyeing the open space in a golden glow — like something out of a summery daydream. you rub the tender skin beneath your bleary eyes, as your feet move you forward. slowly, groggily.

stumbling towards your target.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you wrap your arms around his waist, forehead bumping into his broad back, practically tackling him into a hug. he’s become attuned to the sound of your clumsy footsteps. he makes a tiny noise, acknowledging your presence, and that’s all.

the low purr of the espresso machine buzzes in the air, as he watches over the process, dutiful as ever. the same drawn out, thoughtful process he goes through every morning; picking out the beans himself, grinding them into grounds, and making a cup for you with his beloved, expensive coffee machine. making sure every setting is exactly as it should be. it gives him peace of mind.

and it needs to be perfect, in every possible way — so sukuna tries his best not to let you distract him.

(he never quite succeeds.)

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you squeeze his waist. hands wandering, feeling him up, buzzing with the warmth the contact gives you. he’s always so cozy, like this. all you want is to smush your face into his plush chest. but sukuna clicks his tongue, and places a palm on your forearm. keeping it still.

his voice comes out raspy, excruciatingly deep. a gruff kind of tilt to it that makes you shiver.

”assaulting me first thing in the morning, are we?”

you’re a little too sleepy to respond, too out of it. still reeling with the hazy remnants of your deep sleep, stretching your limbs out groggily and making a little mrm sound that makes his lips twitch up. unwillingly, might he add.

the two of you do this every morning. it’s a ritual, of sorts, one that you need to function properly — he always makes you a morning cup of coffee, and you always cling to him through the process. he always huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue, but never actually pushes you off. all sukuna does is absently caress your arm, where it rests around his midsection, still watching over the slow brew of the coffee. attentive.

you try not to disturb him too much, you do. because you know he loves this, deep down; the morning sunlight kissing up his nape, the sense of peace sinking into his bones. the feeling of your chest against his back, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his apron. but eventually, you always give in to the temptation of speaking — of coaxing a response from that deep, raspy morning voice.

so you part your lips.

”did you have nice dreams?” is murmured into his back, your cheek smooshed against the soft, dark fabric of his tight turtleneck.

sukuna hums. listening, always, even when he pretends to tune you out. then comes his response.

”i never dream.”

a moment passes.

you bite down on your lip, struggling to withhold a giggle. it doesn’t really work — but you tactfully pretend not to hear his displeased grumble.

”right,” you smile. ”my bad.”

another soft silence washes over you. just for a couple of moments, as you drowsily blink, and sukuna puts two ceramic cups on the counter. blissful, until you break it again.

”i think i dreamt of you.”

sukuna stills. only barely, just for a second, a brief twitch of his fingers; waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try. ones he never fails to pick up, tuck into his pockets, chew between his teeth.

(sometimes, he envies how freely affection seems to spill from your lips.)

it’s touching, in a way. the idea that he never quite leaves your mind. that he’s there, always, even in your dreams. it’s… sweet. he supposes.

a little yawn leaves your lips, as you stretch your limbs out, akin to a sleepy cat — and he strains his ears to hear what you’ll say next.

”you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.”

…

a click of his tongue — his hand slipping from its position on your forearm. ”get out of my kitchen.”

and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside your throat. muffled into the cotton of his sweater, a sound that makes his heart feel a little too big for his body. ”noooo…” you whine, nails digging into the fabric so he can’t shake you off. clinging to him tighter when he tries, no real intent behind it. ”’m sorry. don’t get mad!”

”i would never work there,” he scoffs. ”frankly, the thought is insulting.”

you quirk a brow. ”what kind of beef do you have with mcdonalds?”

”don't ask me stupid questions,” he huffs, clicking his tongue, a bitter lilt to his voice. ”they don’t make food. it’s practically contaminated — poisonous. i don’t want you eating that plastic.”

(why would you want to, when you have me to make you anything you want?)

you bite down on your lip, trying to hide a teasing smile. endeared, by how grumpy he’s getting. ”aw. i like it, though...”

sukuna sighs.

”alright, then.” his voice is controlled, hiding every single tinge of his carefully concealed frustration. he must have been an actor in a past life, to sound so effortlessly unbothered. ”go buy yourself one of those cheap, awful, bland cappuccinos you love so much. i’ll pay.”

your lips twitch upward. he’s just being snarky, you know he is, but you still bundle up his sweater with your fists. shaking your head. ”i’m just kidding,” you purr, biting back another yawn. ”only want yours.”

sukuna stills. silent, once more. trying not to acknowledge how your words tug at his heartstrings, chew at the bones of his ribcage. something like pride sprouts in his chest, and it’s enough to get him to smooth his thumb over your knuckle again. content. finally, the kitchen falls silent, only the low purring of the coffee machine to fill your ears — until that dwindles out too.

a kind of peace settles in the air. something holy, sukuna thinks.

something that makes him feel human.

he moves his hands delicately, tenderly. attentive, as he pours hot espresso into your cup, slowly and gracefully, a delicate rhythm to his steady hands. just thinking of how warm you feel, like this, how you touch him like he’s harmless, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. how your voice sounds so pretty in the wake of a new morning, when it’s just a little raspy, unguarded in a way that makes him feel like he’s cradling a wounded bird in his arms. something fragile and majestic. he pretends not to like the sound of it, the way it distracts him from his extensive brewing process; but sukuna thinks he’d do just about anything to hear it once more.

absolutely anything.

”what are you thinking about, sukuna?”

”nothing,” he’s quick to hum. maybe a little too quick, but before you can question it, he scoffs. ”are you gonna cling to me all day, you little brat?”

”… can i?”

sukuna clicks his tongue.

(he’s awfully lucky you don’t look up to see the cherry red tint of his pierced ears.)

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far. busying himself with the clinking of coffee cups and stirring of silver spoons. then he’s turning around, to face you properly. blowing on the cup, a fragrance of espresso spreading throughout the kitchen, blending with the blooming flowers by the windowsill.

he hands you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it. glancing at your forehead; wondering if he should pair it with a kiss.

(maybe later.)

”careful. it’s hot,” he hums. then he’s turning around to prepare his own cup, while you murmur your thanks, squeezing affectionately at his waist. taking a sip of the bitter brew. a warm cup of coffee, thoughtfully crafted, only to be passed into your awaiting hands. the same transaction you repeat every single morning.

the same act, conveying the same sentiment; those three little unspoken words.

you take another sip, and a smile blooms on your lips.

your stomach is growling.

it’s been ten minutes since it started. ten minutes since you noticed the pit of hunger in your gut, growing more and more for every passing second; and you’re trying to ignore it, valiantly, sitting in your cubicle and mentally cursing yourself for being so scatterbrained.

how on earth could you forget your own lunch?

a pang of ache bubbles up in your stomach, and you curl into yourself. sitting on a not-so-comfy chair, doing your best to survive, staring at the clock on the wall and watching the minutes tick down. only twenty minutes left of your lunch break.

in hindsight, it was inevitable. inevitable that you’d burn yourself out, eventually, that it’d make you lose sleep, that your fatigued brain would forget something so important. so fundamental to your peace of mind. you need your lunch to focus properly — there’s no way in hell that you’ll make it through the work day otherwise.

you could accept your fate and go buy a sandwich and a can of coffee, but…

(dammit.)

sukuna always makes your lunches himself. tailored to suit your tastes, to give you the nutrients and energy you need not to lose your mind or set the building on fire, with all the hours you spend staring into your computer screen and writing until your brain turns to mush. they’re always delicious, always lovingly made, and you think you might break down and cry if you have to settle for a cheap sandwich instead. you’d rather swallow crushed glass.

a sigh slips from your lips.

your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance, hearing yet another of your stomach’s agonized growls. she taps at your desk, to get your attention, and you look up to meet her kind eyes. ”my offer still stands, you know?”

you give her a smile. ”no, it’s fine,” you murmur, rubbing the back of your neck. ”eating someone else’s handmade food just wouldn’t feel right…”

”… he spoils you, huh?”

a huff. you pout a little, and she chuckles, going back to eating from her bento. it’s hard not to feel jealous. it’s even harder not to think of the bento still waiting for you in your fridge.

finally, you resign yourself to your tragic fate. putting both palms on your desk, ready to lift yourself up; doomed to survive on a cheaply made sandwich and a too-sweet can of coffee. it’s not ideal, not at all. but it is what it is.

(if only you hadn’t forgotten it…)

”you’re a klutz.”

something is placed directly in front of you. two boxes, stacked on top of each other, wrapped up in a pink cloth — neatly tied, smelling just slightly of food. tantalizing.

you raise your head.

sukuna has one eyebrow raised, a mild expression of disbelief painted on his face. unimpressed, as he gazes down at you, hair tousled and slicked back. wearing a leather jacket, black like the tattoos etched into his skin, on his face, a larger one running in streams of ink from his shoulder down to his forearm. you can see a tiny bit of it, crawling towards his collarbone. equally tantalizing.

a click of his tongue breaks you out of your stupor — stuck in place, staring at him silently. like he just fell out of the sky.

”sukuna,” you sputter, finally, glancing down at the bento and then back up at him. ”you —”

”you’re lucky i noticed,” he cuts you off. ”almost didn't make it in time.” one glance at the clock on the wall, and he’s placing a can of peach tea on your desk; it’s still covered in condensation, his fingers leaving prints on the aluminium. ”i should go. doubt your bosses will be very thrilled to have a motorcycle parked outside.”

”ah.” you fall silent. looking down at your lap, wearing a weak smile, a little too ashamed for his liking. ”… sorry, ’kuna. i know you’re busy.”

he gazes down at you, slumped in your chair, bags beneath your weary eyes. an apologetic smile on your lips, a little dejected. like you’re being scolded.

(his eyes soften.)

sukuna shakes his head. only slightly, by a hair, but enough to put you at ease — to let you know he isn’t upset, that grumpy is simply his default state. his voice shifts into a lower, softer tone. ”just don’t forget it next time.”

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting.

”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment. a smile sprouts on your lips.

you sit up straight, eyes crinkling as you look at him, before falling down on the bento in front of you — practically drooling as you think about the meal you’re about to have. ”thank you,” you coo, a sweet grin on your lips as you meet his gaze. voice tingling with barely contained fondness, expression and posture brightening as you tap your feet beneath your desk. ”i love you.”

something smooths over sukuna’s face; something you can’t quite put your finger on. his lips are pursed, and his amber eyes simmer with something awfully fond. swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind him. it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

his hand reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he brushes through your bangs; adjusting them. and you know it’s just an excuse to touch you, that he’d let himself be greedy and ruffle your hair if you weren’t in public. he doesn’t like having an audience, small as it may be. but he can’t really control himself, when it comes to you.

”make sure to eat all of it,” he hums, glancing out the window, towards the motorcycle parked outside. ”i’ll come pick you up later.”

you smile, and sukuna leaves. elegant, even in the way he moves, collected and confident. languid, long legs and a broad back. the warmth of his palm on your head remains, as you wave after him with a cheery see you soon!

and it’s finally time.

with an eager kind of giddiness, you unwrap your bento — ignoring your still growling stomach, the jealous mutters of your coworker, the ticking of the clock on the wall. from outside the window comes a ray of sunshine, a streak of gold falling across the floorboards. it illuminates the contents of your lunch, and you swallow down a gulp. the presentation is lovely, as always. the top layer carries a mouth-watering cutlet, a wide array of little vegetables, fresh and clean, while the bottom one has a couple perfectly formed onigiri; they’re awfully cute, shaped into little pandas, decorated with dried seaweed and sesame seeds.

you pick one up, holding it in the light of the glittering sun. it’s so cute you almost don’t want to eat it at all.

”did he really make that..?” your coworker mumbles, still chewing on her own food. you’re too hungry to respond.

you fish out a tiny note, tucked between the boxes. that’s where he usually puts them. you don’t remember when it started, but you know he enjoys it; writing down little reminders or words of encouragement. his handwriting is beautiful, clear and concise. your eyes trail over every little word, every letter, the little smudged scribble in the middle. it makes you smile.

you’ve been working hard lately. don’t overdo it. the company won’t fall apart if you slack off every once in a while. i lo we can watch that show you like when you get home.

a warmth spreads throughout your body, from the pit of your stomach down to the tips of your fingers; your heart constricting to make room for the love that blooms between your ribs. you barely even notice the wide smile on your lips, leaning forward to leave a little kiss on the paper. it’ll have to do, since he isn’t here to receive it himself.

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue. the cutlet is perfectly crispy, juicy on the inside, practically melting on your tongue. seasoned thoroughly, cooked to completion, so tasty it makes your mouth water. the onigiri are stuffed with a wide array of fillings, fluffy rice blending nicely together with the contents, little grains sticking to the corners of your mouth. and the veggies are cut into cute little star shapes, light and refreshing, balancing the meal and making you wolf everything down with a bright smile.

there’s love, in this. in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients, all the seasonings you like, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue. the peach tea tastes sweet and fruity, and you gulp it down eagerly, bento left empty.

there are only five minutes left until you have to start working again, but you feel nowhere near as spent as before. you think of his hands, his eyes.

his love.

(god, you can’t wait to get home.)

a soft, orange glow simmers in the kitchen — an atmosphere too sweet not to savour.

your dining room table is covered in a white cloth, burdened by the weight of one burning candle and an expensive vase; stuffed with camellias in all hues, jasmine buds and pretty bluebells, floral scents mingling with the cinnamon-like one of the scented candle. every inhale fills your senses with pure bliss.

not to mention the food.

you’re drooling. you’re sure of it. eyes darting from plate to plate, dish to dish, overwhelmed by the delicacies; trays of sushi, perfect cuts of salmon and tuna cushioned by soft rice, maki rolls stuffed with all your favorite toppings, plenty of soy sauce in tiny cups. fried shrimp, a golden colour, fluffy and crispy, and miso soup topped with garlic and cubes of tofu, steam rising from the ceramic bowls.

and then, of course, his infamous dumplings, grilled on both sides — a perfect golden brown.

all your favorites.

sukuna takes hold of a teapot. made of glass, stuffed with a blooming chrysanthemum, petals stretching out like rays of sunlight in the golden water. he pours it into two ceramic cups, and then promptly drags a chair out for you; a silent beckoning.

but all you can do is stare.

”sukuna…”

he quirks a brow, meeting your astonished stare, eyes round and confused like a puppy’s; painfully cute. he could eat you up. ”what?”

you open your mouth, then close it again. silent, furrowing your brows as if in deep contemplation. ”our anniversary is in august, right?” something panicked smooths over your face. ”i didn’t forget?”

a sigh spills from his lips. ”don’t be dumb,” he clicks his tongue, glancing away for no more than a moment. ”we haven’t had much time to eat together, lately. that’s all.”

(he missed you. he wanted to spoil you, a bit.

he could say it out loud; but he chooses not to.)

either way, he knows you get the message. because suddenly your eyes glimmer, and a full smile blooms on your pretty lips. you waste no time in plopping down on the seat in front of you, right across from sukuna. ”hehe. thank you, baby.”

he huffs. tiny, more of a shy little breath. ”alright, already. eat. before it gets cold.”

”okay, okay!”

he watches as you grab your chopsticks, hungrily eyeing all the dishes on display. listening to his own heartbeat; thrumming, softly, just behind his ribs. pulsating like a fish gasping for air.

”gosh. when did you even do all this?” you ask, soaking in the intimate atmosphere, as he runs an absent hand through his hair. still smelling lightly of coconut oil from the shower he barely had time to take — but he’d rather die than soil this moment with the smell of his cooking-induced sweat.

”when you were away.” he reaches for the cup in front of him, tracing the tips of his fingers against the ceramic. ”jin helped. not with the cooking, obviously, thank god. but…” he raises it to his lips, before taking a sip. ”the ambience. i suppose.”

a hum. you raise your hand, reaching for the bouquet of flowers. ”did he bring these, too?” a curt nod is all you get; it’s enough to have your lips raising up into a smile, fingertips brushing against the petals, pink and yellow, cupping the flowers like they’re made of glass. ”no wonder. do you know what bluebells symbolize?”

sukuna stills. he meets your gaze, eyes trailing towards your knuckles, your fingers, how they blend together with the petals. how he could almost mistake them for stalks. he leans back in his chair, and mutters under his breath;

”… why else would i ask him to buy them?”

you blink. not in surprise, but realization. the sweet kind, like a splash of citrus blooming on your tongue, refreshing.

(he’s always been a bit of a sap, hasn’t he.)

”… that’s true,” your lips split into a sheepish smile, hoping he won’t feel the heat of your cheeks from this distance. ”they’re pretty. thank you.”

another little furrow of his brows. ”enough of that,” comes a sigh. ”if you really want to thank me, make sure the food doesn’t go to waste.”

you stifle a giggle, reaching for the bowl of miso soup. following his advice. sukuna watches you dig in with a certain look in his eyes, something alert and attentive, soft in the corners. resting his chin on the heel of his palm, waiting patiently for those little blissful sighs to start spilling from your lips. wallowing in the finely crafted atmosphere, pleasant scents and soft lighting, the air brimming with something tender and raw.

he spent all day preparing this. planning out every single meal, waiting for jin to arrive with the scented candles and flowers, cleaning the kitchen until not a single speck of dust remained. cathartic, to immerse himself into cooking for you, cutting tofu and vegetables into little cubes and slices, fiddling with the temperature settings and watching blue flames lick at the stove like hungry snakes. gutting the fish he bought fresh from the market, dipping large shrimps into boiling oil. there’s something powerful about it, something he can’t quite put his finger on. something that makes him feel at ease.

and it’s tender — the act of creation, of feeding someone you care for. he didn’t appreciate that part of the process until you came into his life. he didn’t truly love cooking, either.

(he doubts he’ll ever tell you, but he won’t ever stop being grateful for that.)

you continue to eat, sipping from the soup, dipping sushi into soy sauce, munching at the tempura, humming happily to yourself. you look so pleased, so content, like the cat that got the cream. sukuna watches. his eyes stay glued to your fingers, the way you hold your chopsticks, the grain of rice that sticks to the corner of your lip after a particularly big bite. his ears stay keen, intent on picking up on every little joyous hum behind your teeth. even while eating, he’s feeding off your reactions; every expression you bless him with.

he fell in love with the way you eat many years ago.

”so good,” you moan, closing your eyes in pure bliss, and he has to take a sip of his tea to cover the smug smile on his face.

”make sure to finish what’s on your plate,” is all he says, but the honeyed note in his voice gives his satisfaction away. awfully pleased by your approval. ”i made dessert, too.”

at that, your eyes light up even further, swirling with something excited and sweet, and he fails to hold back an amused little huff.

the evening continues. you eat your fill, warm soup and fried food and sugary ice cream, and promptly fall asleep on the couch in the middle of a romcom he only watches for your commentary. snoozing on his shoulder, all tuckered out. always so sleepy after eating. he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers gliding across your soft skin. he spares a moment to admire you, under the soft glow of the living room lights — unable to shake away that greedy vein beneath his skin. if it was possible, he’d admire you forever.

but there’s no way you’d ever manage to sit still for so long, so he carries you to bed instead. big, strong, tattooed arms, lifting you up with ease, like a baby bird in the maw of a rottweiler. handling you with the utmost care, tucking you in under the covers, leaning forward to press a single kiss between your brows —

and then you smile.

…

sukuna stills. he watches you, watches you, watches you, every single miniscule motion of your stiff facial features.

then he pinches your cheek.

”owww!”

your eyes flutter open, flashing with betrayal, and sukuna only gives you that signature click of his tongue. ”did you really think you could trick me so easily?”

”i did! you carried me here!” your lips fall into a petulant frown, as you scramble to sit up straight against the fluffy pillows. he only rolls his eyes.

”i wanted to appease you,” he says, and you almost fall for it because it’s not quite a lie. ”such a brat. can’t even walk on your own, huh?”

”well, pardon me for wanting my sweet fiancé to hold me.”

”i hold you all the time.”

”it’s not the same,” you sigh, two little shakes of your head. ”whatever. you wouldn't get it.”

sukuna quirks a brow, but doesn’t push it. instead, he releases the slightest exhale, eyes blooming with amusement, his palm finding its way to your tousled hair. smoothing down your skull.

”go back to sleep,” he beckons, softly, almost hypnotically. his voice is at its most tender when it’s late at night; a little too exhausted to sharpen his syllables properly. ”i’ll hold you later.”

”… you’re not joining me?” you ask, eyes filling with confusion, and he feels a slight tug at his heart — a little string that ties him to you.

”i need to plan next week’s meals,” he mutters, watching as you furrow your brows, meeting his gaze with a pair of disappointed puppy dog eyes.

you know he’s weak to them.

”don’t pout,” he scoffs, looking away for the briefest little moment. weak. ”i'll do it quickly.”

”you always say that,” comes a heavy sigh. you bundle up the covers with your fists, shooting him a bitter little glance. ”but it always takes forever.”

”don’t complain,” he tuts. tilting his head, pink locks falling across his forehead, his maroon eyes. ”haven’t i pampered you enough tonight?”

at that, you fall silent. still pouting.

he tries not to feel bad. he wants to sleep with you; but he can’t. sunday nights are for meal planning. they have been since you first moved in together, and he’s not planning to put a fork in the road of his carefully nurtured routine anytime soon. he needs to make sure you eat balanced meals, get all the vitamins you need — it’s practically life and death.

still, it itches at him. the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, curl in on yourself. you look sleepy and disappointed, and the bed looks empty, which only makes you look smaller in comparison. you look small and lonely and sad. it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe.

(he brushes the thought away.)

for a moment, he’s entirely still. then his pinkie twitches, beckoning him to you. there it goes, again — that invisible string. he takes a step forward, crouching down to meet you at eye level.

”… sorry,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. the word feels foreign on his tongue, but he swallows the discomfort. ”i’ll hurry. you have my word.”

you blink.

then you’re smiling, again. flipping to your side, sluggishly, just to face him fully. ”’kay.” you reach out for his hand. ”don’t complain if i’m knocked out when you get back, though.”

he looks at your intertwined fingers, brushing his thumb across your skin, a hum buzzing in his throat. affectionate, despite his teasing. ”i wont have to listen to your nightly tangents, then.”

”you love my nightly tangents!”

a snort pushes past his lips. ”sure,” he smirks, ever so slightly, snarky enough to make it sound like a lie. because he does love them. he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails. a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy.

(far more grueling than any of the bloodshed.)

sukuna does love your nightly tangents. they chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life, one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit. but you don’t need to know that. so he doesn’t say it — he keeps it locked behind his teeth, under his tongue.

he squeezes your palm.

and then he’s rising to his feet. you follow him with your eyes, blinking drowsily, cheek smooshed against the soft mattress. he resists an uncharacteristic coo.

you muster up a sweetened grin, teeth shining like stars. ”g’night, honey. don’t stay up too late, okay?”

he hums. a silent i won’t. there are some things he won’t speak aloud, because he knows you’ll hear them anyway. ”pleasant sleep,” he murmurs, raising a hand up to card through his hair. blinking away the fatigue — until a soft bout of laughter spills from out your throat.

”pleasant sleep?” you echo, grin teetering on something mischievous, a sleepy snort pushing past your lips. ”what are you, a fucking vampire?”

sukuna blinks.

then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate. ”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning. your giggles don’t fade away, even when he’s turning on his heel and walking out of your bedroom.

”sweet dreams, count dracula!”

”you’re not getting any breakfast tomorrow.”

ignoring your muffled, distressed whine, sukuna hides a fond smile behind his palm. biting down on his bottom lip to keep it at bay — absently deciding what to make for your breakfast tomorrow. pancakes or waffles? maybe he’ll skip the vanilla ice cream, this time. just to teach you a lesson.

when he returns, forty minutes later, you’re fast asleep. curled up under the covers, drool slipping down your bottom lip. he tucks you into his neck, and mouths them into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure. but his breath fans against the shell of your ear, and you absently nuzzle into your arms. as if you understand. that silent language between you.

he wonders if you realize, if you’ll ever realize, just how much you mean to him.

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you, but you know. you know, because it’s in everything he does.

you know that he loves you because he actually allows you into his kitchen, when anyone else would be chased out with a pitchfork. because he doesn’t push you away when you wrap your arms around his waist, over his cream-coloured apron, even though you know it distracts him while he’s cooking dinner — only ever clicking his tongue or making a noise of disapproval, placing a palm over your forearm. muttering little harmless grumbles of it’s like you want to get first degree oil burns.

you know that he loves you because you’re always the first to taste his food, without fail, the first person he goes to when he tries a new recipe. and you appreciate it, even when you joke about how honoured you are to test your king’s meals for poison. he quirks a brow and threatens to take the food away, sure, but then there’s always that one flicker of amusement in the amber of his eyes.

you know because he grills his dumplings extra on both sides, just how you like it, because he forms his onigiri into pandas just to see you smile. because he knows how to make your perfect cup of coffee by heart, and refuses to use anything less than an absurdly expensive coffee machine, beans he grinded into powder with his own two hands. because he believes you deserve nothing but the best, nothing less than the finest delicacies this world has to offer. wholeheartedly.

you know that he loves you because it’s there. you can feel it, in every stolen glance, every slight smile when you finally dig in. in the way the cutlet melts on your tongue, the way the bitter espresso runs down your throat, the warmth that blossoms in your chest when you catch him watching you with the faintest glimmer of a content smile.

a silent declaration, a hymn you can always hear if you strain your ears enough —

i love you, i love you, i love you.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jjk fluff #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader

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minarinnn · 8 months

Text

“notice me” pt2

luke castellan x aphrodite!reader | pt1

content/trigger warnings: fem!reader, SMUTT, p in v, virgin!luke, unprotected sex, rough sex, bold!reader

it’s been a week since that day and you haven’t spoken to luke at all. if he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were ignoring him

you were. but this was all part of your twisted game. he made you wait for months, now it’s his time to wait. you wanted him to feel how you felt, maybe then you’ll give into your desires

you’d pretend not to see him, or be busy with studying or teaching your younger half-siblings. luke grew more and more impatient by the minute. he knew that you had always been a master at playing with peoples feelings, being aphrodite’s daughter and all, but this was going too far. he didn't understand why you were ignoring him when it was you who wanted his attention in the first place

every time he saw that you were free, you would leave. you wouldn’t even shoot him your flirty smile like you always did, all you did was spare him a simple glance

he felt like he was going insane, he’s never had to fight for your attention. it just came naturally. how you’d bat your eyelashes at him while complimenting his fighting style, or how you’d place your hand on his bicep as you spoke to him

he never thought he’d be the one doing the chasing. so, finally, after what felt like an eternity of being ignored, luke had had enough. he walked up to your dining table, interrupting your conversation with your half-sister, drew. “hey, can we talk?” he spoke, voice low and almost sounding desperate

“sure” you agree, watching as he bites the inside of his cheek. “in private” he mutters out, eyes boring into your own. you nod, following him to the storage shed just outside his cabin.

you enter the small, dark shed, feeling luke’s intense gaze on you. it feels almost like it's burning holes into your skin, like he's trying to see right through you. he leaned on the wall, crossing his arms under his chest, his muscles subconsciously flexing showing just how toned his muscles actually are

luke took a deep breath before speaking, his voice low and serious. "so, why’ve you been ignoring me all week?" his eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of an explanation. you remained composed, not wanting to give away the game you were playing. "my world doesn’t revolve around you, castellan” you said with a playful smile

luke clicked his tongue, clearly frustrated. "dont play games with me, you know exactly what I'm talking about” he took a step closer to you, eyes locked on yours “answer my question”

you felt your heart pound in your chest as luke steadily closed the distance between you. his presence was inescapable, and the tension between you was palpable. you felt yourself getting needier by the second. the way your pussy throbbed at just his words had you weak

you looked at him through hooded eyes, a playful smile still tugging at your lips. “you wanna know that bad, huh?” you said, putting your hands to his toned chest. “you drive me insane” he whispered, lust practically pouring out of his body

“i know” you chuckled softly. luke just looks at you, his expression unreadable. leaning in, he finally kisses you. the kiss is sudden and fierce, his lips pressing against yours with a hunger that you haven't seen in him before. you wrap your arms around luke’s neck, pulling him closer to you. the kiss becomes more desperate as he pushes you against the wall, it was more urgent, as if neither of you could get enough of the other

his hands are quick to find their way under your shirt, groping your breast over your bra. he was desperate to get the fabric off of you, desperate to feel you

he takes his own shirt off, you following suit. you giggle as his fingers fumble on the clip of your bra, fingers stumbling against each other as he blindly tries to take it off. you help him, of course.

his mouth quickly latches on to one of your perky nipples, groaning with a sense of satisfaction while his fingers pinch the other, making you squirm under his touch

your fingers pull and scratch on his scalp, a feeling he’s seeming to enjoy to the fullest, given the way he’s moaning against your skin. your free hand undoes his belt, efficiently pulling his pants down under his hips. a voice in the back of his head wanted to ask you if you’ve done this before, but he was too fucking horny to wanna do anything else in that moment

he’s panting, face flushed as he pull don’t your shorts along with your panties, biting his lip to prevent the whine he was gonna let out once he saw the mess you’ve made on your panties. he hasn’t even done much, talk about an ego boost

he’s snapped out from his thought when he feels your cold manicured fingers wrap around his length giving it a few strokes. the tip of his dick flushed a bright reddish pink, feeling the veins throb in your hand at the newly found sensation

“first time?” you tease, knowing full well that it was. “i’ll be gentle, promise” he replied smugly, raising on of your legs to his hip, tip aligning with your entrance. the moment he pushes the tip in, you both gasp. he’s much bigger than you expected, and you’re much tighter than he expected

“fuck” he panted out “s’tight”. your nails dug crescent moons on his shoulders as he sunk the rest of his length into your throbbing cunt. he’s quick to pull out and slam back into you, making you shamelessly moan out his name and your eyes rolling back

he might not have done this before, but he knows how sex works. he promised he’d be gentle, but luke castellan isn’t know for keeping promises, is he? and after you made him wait a whole week, you more than deserve a little punishment

so he’s thrusting up into you, giving you little to no time to adjust to his cock. and you’re so loud about it too. so he puts his middle and index finger into your mouth. “suck” is the only thing he says before your cheeks hollow out and your tongue wraps around his fingers. he can feel the vibrations of your moans through his arms and it’s coursing straight to his dick, making it throb inside of you

“good girl” he mutters into your neck, making you tighten impossibly tighter around his dick. a few more thrust and your cumming on his cock. he doesn’t let you come down from your high, his thrust maintain the same quick and rough pace they had before, making you whine against his fingers at the overstimulation

tears pooling in your eyes as he’s kissing your forehead. “you’re doing s’good f’me baby” he’d grunt out “im gonna fuckin’ ruin you”

#luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan smut #pjo luke castellan #luke smut #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x reader smut

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taifenggg · 4 months

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hi! 🌷 i love your scenarios so i instantly came to rq here <3

could you write about mc and the brothers having possessive s3x for the first time? their relationship is relatively new and they did it a few times, but for some reason they got jealous and the way they deal with it is by having somewhat angry / possessive s3x with reader (which is very different from what they're used to do

for example: belphie is usually lazy or slow, satan is a gentleman and spends a lot of time on foreplay, reader notices how their usual this time is almost the opposite bc the brother in question is SO jealous

idk if it made sense </3 if writing the 7 of them feels too much for you, then would mammon + satan + barbatos be okay? they're my favorites!

have an amazing day btw i love your content

Content Warning(s): NSFW obviously LMAO, hairpulling(Lucifer, Belphie), semi-public(Mammon, Asmo), overstimulation(Satan), slight degradation(Belphie), not proofread LOL

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie, Barbatos

Authors Notes: hi there! i'm so flattered you love my writing, it means a lot! and dw I saw your other ask, so you're all good no worries about verification. nonnie, I'll do you one better and I ended up writing all the bros plus barbs as a bonus lol. enjoy!

nsfw under the cut! minors dni or i will block you :)

Reminder to abide by my guidelines for NSFW content tysm :]

Guidelines for NSFW Content [ ◇ ]

Lucifer [🦚💙]

Others keep occupying your time.

"Remind me again, who exactly do you belong to?"

Your moans are stifled as you press your face against the pillow. Lucifer's pace is relentless and although he can be rough in general, tonight feels different. There's something far more carnal and possessive in the way Lucifer thrusts into you. His movements are done so with reckless abandon, a stark contrast to how he usually takes you.

"Y-you Lucifer!" you gasp, body shaking from the intense pleasure coursing through your body. You yelp and moan out his name as he runs a hand through your scalp, pulling your face so that you're staring at him, his hands having a firm grip on your hair. "I can't hear you, louder," he commands you, your faces practically centimeters away from each other.

"You Lucifer!" you sob, feeling his large hand pressing into the small of your back, pushing you down against the mattress. Lucifer smirks, his other hand trailing down to your neck, holding you there firmly. "That's right my love, me. Not my brothers and certainly not that shady sorcerer," he practically spits out those last words. Lucifer's head falls back as he continues to thrust roughly into you, feeling himself close to his release.

You can feel yourself tightening around him, and you arch your back, body shaking as your orgasm washes over you. Lucifer lets out a low moan, making a few more shallow thrusts into you before spilling his seed into your hole. Chest heaving, he pulls out, watching with satisfaction as his release trickles out of you. Taking two fingers, he trails them up your inner thighs, causing you to jump from how sensitive you were after your high. Lucifer takes his fingers and takes the excess that spills out, prodding it back in.

"Keep that in there my love, it's proof that you're mine after all, if not, I'll have to punish you a bit more unfortunately. You can do that, can't you?"

Mammon [💰💛]

Someone thought flirting with you at the casino was a good idea.

"Dammit, you drive me crazy y'know?"

Your legs are currently wrapped around Mammon's waist, goosebumps littering your skin as you feel the wall against your back, your shirt long discarded. Your arms are wrapped securely around Mammon's neck for support. Mammon kisses you roughly, hungrily, as if he were scared of you running away or disappearing from right in front of him.

"That damn incubus," he hisses, pushing into you, "Thinking they have anything on the Great Mammon. You're my lucky charm, no one else's." His teeth scrape at your neck as he leaves mark after mark. You're pretty sure your back is rubbed raw from how fast and hard Mammon is thrusting into you, and your legs shake around Mammon's waist, but despite this Mammon holds you securely, his grip on your thighs giving you enough support.

"Mammon!" you whine, your hands tangled in his hair. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and you can hear Mammon gasp, groan, and curse with each thrust he makes. Judging by how loud the two of you were being, you had no doubt that the entire casino knew that you were getting fucked hard by Mammon.

"You're mine alright? Mine, mine, mine, my treasure," he whispers in your ear, and he accentuates each of his words with a slap of his hips against yours. Your moans become louder and you can practically feel yourself on the verge of releasing onto him.

"Mine." And with one last word, Mammon makes one last thrust up into you, hitting your most sensitive spot and you practically go limp in his arms as your orgasm washes over you. Mammon's hips slowly still, and he checks over you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I won't let anyone take you from me alright? Much less some random incubus who thinks they can steal my treasure from me."

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

You showed him your duo in an online game.

"Levi, they're just a friend!" You gasp softly as he pushes you into his bathtub, a pout on his face. Immediately, he presses himself up against you, rubbing his cheek against your exposed collarbone. "I don't care," he grumbles softly, one hand snaking up to pin your hands above your head, his other hand trailing underneath your shirt, caressing your sides. "I should be the only one to carry you, not anyone else. You're my player 2, my Henry," he nips at your shoulder and you shudder, feeling yourself grow aroused from the close proximity and from his touches.

"I don't care if they're ranked number one, I'll prove I'm better than them by beating them!" His pupils are dilated as he looks at you below him, and he can't help the sudden ache and the growing tent in his pants. Gasping softly, he starts grinding up against you, and you can't help but reach up for him, pulling his hips flush against yours, in search of some very much needed friction to relieve the tension you're feeling.

Both of your gasps can be heard, and you're pretty sure that if Levi didn't soundproof his room, anyone walking outside could probably hear just how heated the two of you were getting. You tighten your grasp on him, your hands snaking up to tug at the back of his hair cause Levi to moan against you as he kisses you roughly.

You stare up at him blearily, not even realizing when he shifted into his demon form. Shivering, one of your hands move from the back of his head, down to his abdomen and Levi jerks in your grasp, a flush painting his pale face.

"Do you know how badly I want you? Please don't give your attention to others, just stay focused on me."

Satan [😾💚]

Gets riled up because he sees Lucifer closer to you than he'd like.

Your chest heaves from exertion as Satan brings you to your umpteenth release. Your legs are shaking from overstimulation and you're pretty sure you've lost count of how many times Satan has made you come. His bangs stick to his forehead as he dives back between your legs, sucking marks along your inner thighs, his grip digging into the flesh of your thighs.

Your hands make their way to his hair, tugging on the golden strands and you feel Satan groan, his moans sending vibrations down your core. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. "Satan no more please! I can't take it anymore," you whimper softly, feeling tears prick at the edge of your vision. Satan only laughs looking up at you, using a hand to push his hair out of his eyes. "Nono, we're not finished yet," his voice is dangerously soft as he stares at you, body trembling underneath his gaze. His nose wrinkles and his eyes narrow as he pulls your bottom closer to him, once again positioning himself between your legs. "I can still smell him on you and I intend to erase every trace of Lucifer from you, from your mind, and from your body. Understand?"

You slowly nod, your thighs quivering either from anticipation or overstimulation, you weren't sure at this point anymore.

Satan smiles as he licks a stripe up where you're most sensitive, and your body jerks still sensitive from all your orgasming from earlier. You squirm to get your body away from him but his grip holds tight to you.

"Stay right where you are. I thoroughly intend to take my time with you tonight."

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

Your fans started getting too touchy with you.

Asmo isn't one to get jealous easily....not usually.

However, today was supposed to be about just you and him and it frustrated him to no end seeing your fans flock over to you, occupying all of your time. Asmo's eyes narrow as he watches them practically latch themselves onto you, and you barely pushing them away, laughing it off lightly. You're shocked by his sudden actions, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the crowd and down a secluded alleyway. His silence is rather unsettling, and there's a strange gleam in his eyes.

.....

"A-Asmo slow down!" You gasp out, feeling your back pressed against the wall, and Asmo's gaze trained on you, his hands sliding up your arms, pinning them above your head. You shiver, feeling his breath grace the outer shell of your ear, and you unintentionally tilt your head to the side, giving him more room to slot his face into your neck.

"Do you love me?" His question catches you off guard and you stare at him quizzically. "What? Of course I do." you frown slightly pulling on your hands, but Asmo holds your hands in place firmly. He presses his body against yours, and you gasp slightly, feeling his knee pressing against your crotch. "You sure seemed to be having fun entertaining those fans of yours. While I don't mind everyone fawning over you, today was just supposed to be about me and you was it not?" He has a slight pout on his face, lip jutting out.

You stare at him incredulously, eyes wide. If you were being honest, Asmo was adorable, especially with that little pout on his face. "It's not like you to be this jealous," you laugh a little, your face flushing. You feel him press your body more against the wall, and you have to suppress the urge to let out a moan as he continues grinding his leg against where you're most sensitive. His hand snakes past the waistband of your pants and you nearly keel over from his touch, leaning against him for support.

"I'm only like this for you, and no one else."

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

His Fangol teammates were far friendlier to you than he'd like.

Your throat is sore, but that's a given considering you had spent the good part of the last few hours screaming out Beel's name, cheering him on after he scored point after point. What you certainly didn't forsee was you practically folded over one of the benches in the locker room, Beel holding one of your legs wide open as he thrusts into you roughly. The way you're positioned, if someone were to open the door to the locker room would end up seeing you sprawled out as Beel rammed himself against you.

"S-slow down Beel! It's too much!" Your head falls back, and you feel like you're being split apart by how big he is. Normally, Beel is much more gentle, taking his time with you but it seems that in the heat of the moment, he chose to forgo any sense of moderation.

"I don't like that my teammates got too close to you," he grunts, hips stuttering as he pulls you closer, his chest heaving from exertion. Ah that's right, he's referring to his teammates that immediately crowded around you to thank you for cheering so fervently for them. You remember the way Beel watched you from outside the crowd, his expression unreadable. You can recall conversing with his fellow teammates before feeling a pair of hands loop around your waist, pulling you towards them....which somehow led to the situation that you were currently in.

Beel's grip on your thigh is borderline painful, and you're sure that there'll be marks there come tomorrow from how roughly he's currently manhandling you. You reach up grasping at his arm, momentarily causing his movements to falter as he looks at you, temporarily shaken out of his frenzy. "Beel slow down please, I swear I only have eyes for you," you whimper softly, your legs shaking. His expression softens as he stares down at you, leaning over to press an apologetic kiss to your forehead. His motions are slower now, you notice, and there's a tenderness in the way he holds onto you now, one hand pressed against your waist, the other still holding onto your thigh but much less tight now.

"Sorry, you drive me crazy. I promise I'll make this up to you later."

Belphegor [🐮💜]

Your project partner was getting too buddy-buddy with you.

"Hahh, fuck you're so tight~"

Belphie practically hisses this in your ear as he sinks into you, bent over one of the desks in an empty classroom. The surface is cold against your front, your RAD uniform unbuttoned, and shirt pushed up as Belphie leans entirely against you. Your knuckles are white from how hard they're gripping the desk, meanwhile, Belphie has a good grasp on you from behind, his hand tugging at your scalp.

Your back arches as he thrusts into you, using your head as leverage, and you're pretty sure everyone outside has a pretty good idea of what's going on, based on how loudly the desk is scraping against the floor. Your gasp, shoulders hunched as you hold onto desperately to the desk. Belphie's tail flicks irritably as he watches your expression. "Enjoying this are you? Do you really like everyone outside knowing how I'm using you right now? Let them know how desperate you are for me to fuck you dumb like this. Go on, moan louder why don't you."

Your heart pounds in your chest and you let out shuddering breaths as Belphie's hips snap against you, hitting your most sensitive spots. He leans over, whispering in your ear, "The door's unlocked, and anyone could walk in right now and see the two of us like this. Are you getting off to this? To the idea of others seeing what a mess you are right now? Well, that's too damn bad because no one can have you like I can, and certainly not your project partner....what's their face?" He practically spits out, and you can feel the jealousy practically dripping off of him.

"Thinking they're better than me, too bad they'll never get the chance to see you like this. Oh well, you'll behave for me won't you?"

+ Bonus

Barbatos [⌛🖤]

The Young Master was occupying too much of your time.

"Apologies, I'm afraid I won't be able to restrain myself tonight."

You stare at Barbatos confused, watching as he approaches you at the foot of the bed, smoothly pushing you down in one swift moment with one hand. The other lifted to his mouth as he bites at the finger, and pulls it off just as swiftly. Your mouth is agape as he switches hands, holding you down with ease as he removes his other glove.

"As much as I'd like to thank the young master for consistently inviting you over for tea, I will admit there are times when it was just the two of us without his presence." His hands trail your figure, and you're not quite sure what it is about him tonight but he seems.....different. He's far more forward, taking the initiative rather than waiting for you to take the lead. You gasp as you feel his mouth on you, his teeth scraping along your neck. You gasp, leaning away so he has more room to do as he pleases.

"Barbatos-" He presses a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. There's just something that turns him on so much, seeing you underneath him so helpless and pliant. His nose is wrinkled slightly as he gazes at you. You lay there, back arching as Barbatos has his way with you, cold hands caressing you, but not touching you where you ached for him the most.

"Hush now, let me take care of you, my love."

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