#squeezing and heavy and ahhhh

[sleepymarimo]

𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣!

summary: the first time you make their heart skip a beat, w/ monster trio + law! pairing(s): luffy x gn!reader, zoro x gn!reader, sanji x gn!reader, law x gn!reader cw: none! an: ahhhh idk how to feel about this one but i hope you enjoy :') 👐

luffy

there are a lot of things that get luffy's heart racing.

a good meal. a cool looking fish. a killer party. all of it makes this captain happy, because he revels in the adventure. he lives for the moment. he feels deeply and strongly, a trait that acts as a double edged sword.

like now, as a torrent of anger and worry swirl in his chest and weigh him down. he's running through some dense woods, bursting through trees and falling down hills, a look of determination on his face.

an enemy had managed to sneak up on the crew.

what's worse? they ran off. with you.

luffy doesn't think twice. he pushes through anything in his way for the sake of finding you before things got too rough. as he runs, he finds the enemy's actions cowardly. someone using you to draw him out makes him irritate. he doesn't care if he's falling into some trap; he'd deal with whatever was put in front of him so long as he could rescue you.

he's worried for your well being, of course he is. even though he can't see you, he can feel you. his observation haki lets him know how frightened you are, a fact that makes him all the more angry.

then finally, in the distance, he catches sight of you.

you're in a clearing, the enemy looming over you. they're raising a weapon in your direction, much too close.

luffy feels his blood boil. he grabs ahold of some trees, running backwards and preparing to launch himself in your direction as fast as he can. his rubber arms grow taut as he stretches, his mind set on rescuing you.

an annoyed huff leaves him when he hears the enemy taunting you, threatening your life and mocking your ambitions. it has luffy's anger rising, because there was no way he'd let your dreams get made fun of. by anyone.

his thoughts become hazy, his strong feelings taking hold of his actions.

then, luffy hears it. it's like a melody, absolute music to his ears.

your laugh.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his head clears.

he can feel a big smile curling at his lips. his grin is all teeth, his eyes shining with equal parts pride and mischief. it's like a fire has been lit in his soul, like he's a toy that's just been wound up to the max.

even in your current predicament, even when you're utterly terrified, you have faith in yourself. in him.

if you can laugh, then so can he.

finally, he yells out his signature move, launching himself at the enemy and landing a punch so hard that it makes the air itself tremble.

"luffy!" you call with some tears prickling in your eyes, your limbs still shaky from the adrenaline. your smile falters at the edges, relief flooding your body. "you made it!"

your captain comes to life upon seeing your smile up close, his heart beating like a drum. his rubber arms wrap around you and he squeezes you to his chest, his laughter ringing in your ears.

"of course i did!" he grins, grabbing you by the hand and urging you to run with him to the ship. his grip on you is tight and secure. glancing back at you, he can't help but feel grateful to have you with him on this journey.

he snickers, letting emotion run through him without restriction. "you made my heart feel funny!"

zoro

after another victory, the straw hat pirates found themselves reveling in drinks, food and company.

for a while, the swordsman finds himself amidst the other heavy drinkers. he grins and knocks back bottle after bottle, content with listening to the animated conversations around him and observing the party.

eventually though, he craves some solitude. and so, he heads off towards a less occupied area where he can drink in peace.

he basks in isolation, until you manage to find your way to him. a big grin is on your face and he can't help but reciprocate with a small smirk when he notices your inebriated state. unceremoniously, you plop down next to him at a respectable distance.

“hey zo', gimme some!” you nod towards the large bottle he holds, completely immersed in the light, upbeat atmosphere. one of your hands even reaches out, making a sort of grabbing motion.

he possessively tightens his grip on the bottle, his expression hardening slightly as his brows furrowed. "hah? this is mine, go grab your own bottle."

"i don't wanna full drink, jus' need a little more and i'll be good." you answer, well aware of your limits. your tone becomes pleading as you look up at him with puppy dog eyes. "one sip. please?"

with a groan, he relents. he grumbles something about you being lucky that he's in such a good mood, before extending the bottle in your direction.

yet, it appears that you have some more tricks up your sleeve.

instead of grabbing the bottle, you simply tilt your head back and let your mouth hang open. you make an 'ah' sound, waiting for him to bestow you with the gift of alcohol.

he's a little taken aback at first. seriously? you wanted him to pour it for you? ugh, fine...

he rolls his eye and uses his free hand to firmly hold your jaw steady and open, bringing the bottle up and pouring the sake into your mouth.

your hand rests on his, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over his knuckles.

it's all fine at first, until his eyes lock with yours. in that moment, he seems to acknowledge the intimacy of the act, something primal stirring in his gut as he looked down at you. his cheeks redden.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his muscles tense and he goes almost still. he gets so distracted that his hand moves upwards, effectively drowning your face with sake. your head snaps back into its natural position and you start to cough, the alcohol burning your nostrils.

you give the swordsman an incredulous look, wiping the excess sake from your face. “what the hell was that for?”

“you’re the one that moved!” he sharply replies, even though he knows damn well that you were sitting good and still for him.

focusing inward, he seems pleased to feel that his heart is once again thumping steadily. unwavering. what an odd feeling it was, to have his strong heart skip a beat.

i'll deal with that later. he thinks, not at all wanting to open that can of worms.

so, he takes another swig from the bottle and uses one of his large hands to pat you on the back as you continued to cough up sake.

“oi, don’t waste good booze.”

sanji

the cook wasn't used to being spoiled. he's always been a giver, someone who provides and never takes.

he basked in the smiles that formed on the faces of his crew mates, his family, whenever he made them a good meal or protected them. he never asks for anything in return. however, that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t be shown appreciation every now and then.

currently, he's on night watch.

a thick blanket is wrapped around his shoulders, the cold wind nipping at his cheeks and painting them a reddish color. a cigarette hangs from his lips, his breaths coming out as white puffs against the dark sky.

out of the corner of his eye, he can see light pouring out from the kitchen window. how long has that been on? his brows furrow in suspicion as he makes his way over, half-expecting to see luffy attempting to crack open the pantry.

yet when he opens the door, his posture immediately relaxes and he practically melts as he sees you. you're in your pajamas, hunched over the stove with a focused expression. he takes note of the cookbook laid out on the counter, guiding you as you prepared a dish.

he calls your name, his limbs turning to mush as he approached you. "what are you doing here so late? if you're hungry, i'll make you some-"

his nose twitches as he catches the scent of what you're making.

he knows it well because it happens to be one of his favorite dishes. coincidentally, it was one of your least favorites, the scent of it rather unbearable to you.

"you're... you're making..." his cigarette threatens to tumble out of his lips as he gives you a bewildered expression.

he can see your nose briefly scrunch up before you give him a smile, one of your hands holding a wooden spoon and mixing up ingredients on a pan. "yeah. i hope i'm making it right. i mean, it won't be as good as yours anyway, but still."

"mon amour, you shouldn't. i know how much you can't stand the smell of it." he tries to usher you away, placing a hand on yours and insisting that he didn't want you to be queasy. "why're you making this, mon amour? did someone ask you to?"

you shrug and keep a firm hold on the wooden spoon, replying like the answer was obvious. "because i thought it'd make you happy."

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his cigarette does fall to the floor. the hand that's over yours tightens, perhaps his way of grounding himself. he's speechless for a moment, something shaking him down to his very center.

he could almost cry.

"sanji?" you ask, a little concerned for the chef as his eyes seemed to glaze over.

the blond snaps out of it, giving you a smile that's so warm it makes you wonder if the sun had just come up. there's none of that surface level attraction or lust in his gaze, only an authentic appreciation.

thank you. he thinks, feeling light. thank you for caring.

his eyes close as he once again takes in the scent of the dish you're preparing. "it smells great, mon amour. better than anything i've ever made, i’m sure of it."

"i doubt that." you laugh, downplaying his compliment. with a nod, you resume cooking. "it'll be finished by the time you're done with your watch. i can handle it."

sanji thanks you once more, his heart feeling full. returning to his post, he allows you to do something kind for him. he allows himself to take, without worrying about having to repay you.

he quells any lingering thoughts of insecurity and self-doubt, focusing instead on the meal that's sure to be waiting for him in the morning.

law

it was a couple weeks ago that law made the decision to educate the crew a bit more on medical practices.

the surgeon knew that he couldn’t always be around to provide assistance to the crew, so it was only logical that he trained everyone in basic first aid, including you. day after day, he trained everyone, one at a time.

was it a lot? yes. however, law liked to be prepared and felt comfort in being thorough with his teachings, regardless of how tedious it was.

so, finally it was your day to be trained under his watchful eye.

you could tell how passionate he was about his work, how knowledgeable. if you had any questions or wanted to know more about a topic, he took the time to explain it to you properly.

he was quite patient, something you were thankful for since you knew he could sometimes grow frustrated.

when it's all said and done, he quizzes you. he sits atop the exam table, his expression apathetic.

"i'm a patient suffering from shortness of breath, chest pain and dizziness." he flatly says, watching your every move. "what comes to mind? what do you check first?"

you bite at your lip, your head scrambling to come up with any ideas of what your 'patient' could be suffering from. "arrhythmia?" you answer, uncertain. he gives you a pressing look, urging you to continue. "and i... check your heartbeat?"

"good." with a nod of his head, he gestures towards the stethoscope. "go ahead, then. check it and let's see if you get the reading right."

pushing past your initial hesitance, you grab the stethoscope and put it on, gently holding the bell in your hand. placing it on his clothed chest, your expression turns frustrated as you struggle to hear a beat.

he rolls his eyes and calls your name lightly. "you can't place it over fabric. it needs to go directly on the skin."

oh yeah, you needed to place it directly on his chest.

you click your tongue, embarrassed by your slight error. "yeah, yeah, i got it."

with that, your hand slips under the hem of his shirt.

however, instead of holding up his shirt and and placing the stethoscope directly over his heart, your hand slides upward from his abdomen and all the way to his chest.

your fingers inadvertently graze along his skin, tracing a warm path from his navel to his heart.

you're too focused on your task to notice his widening eyes and how his breath hitches.

a content smile forms on your face when you catch the sound of his heartbeat.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

you look up at him, slightly concerned. “i think there's something weird-"

"you're hearing things." he's quick to say, placing a hand over yours and promptly removing it from his person. standing from the exam table, he adjusts his shirt and takes a step back to put some much needed distance between the two of you. "good job today, you did well."

he turns in the opposite direction, not wanting to let his cracked composure show. steeling himself, he takes a deep breath and shakes off any residual feelings of unease.

it was just a fluke. he's quick to think, wanting to be rational.

in the end, he looks over his shoulder and gives you a nod before heading to his study.

[kurooh]

OOO OMG I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRTIE FOR DENKI, but if you do, could we PLEASE get some morning wood action. im talking denki wakes up and its full shaft bro. he either grinds into you, or jerks off cause ur away, creative freedom! 😇 LMAKDOAOAA okay im leaving now

⊹₊˚. SNOOZE ! — mornings with kaminari denki

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, gn! reader, consensual somnophilia, grinding, light fluff, pet names.

xoxo, juno: nonnie come back 😭 this is like a month late ahhhh, i hope you see this

“babyyy, you just look so good,” denki murmurs into the slope of your shoulder, voice sleepy and soft. “it’s too early to be losing my mind right now.”

engrossed in your dream, you let out a sigh and barely shift against him. he thinks your quiet snores and even breaths are so cute, but his palm coasts down your side and lands on your hip. it’s late enough for the sounds of the morning rush to have passed already, but too early to get out of bed just yet.

denki probably couldn’t even get out of bed in this condition, though—neglected and heavy, his cock is as hard as a steel flagpole between his legs. it’s just so sensitive this morning that he’s too aware of the precum bubbling at the tip and the extra heartbeat that can’t seem to stop increasing.

he experimentally tickles your stomach with his fingers, light as the brush of a feather—and you shift again, pressing your ass into him before moving away. it’s only a simple touch, the kind that would ordinarily do everything but make him sick to his stomach with desire, but denki chokes out a gasp.

“if you just—if you knew,” he says dumbly, curling his fingers into your hip and pressing his crotch into your ass, “how easy it is for you to make me crazy. i never used to be this hard when i woke up, but you fucking—ooh, you changed me.”

truthfully, denki doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s saying.

he’s still half asleep and just disoriented from such a rush of testosterone through his body, but he still feels the need to talk to you. it’s difficult to understand what’s coming out of his own mouth with the way all of his brain cells are exploding with bliss—in an attempt to keep himself grounded, he nibbles at your shoulder and tucks his nose into your skin.

of course, this does nothing but make the friction on his cock feel even better. your natural smell mixed with faint traces of your soap makes him nothing short of feral.

“babe, babyyy,” denki cries, fingers digging into your skin as he humps your ass more desperately, “‘m no good at talking, really. that’s your job—haa, shit—i know it’s not good to assign jobs during sex unless it’s for a blowjob, but it’s your thing! i don’t even know how you don’t get confused in the middle of it, but that’s why it’s your thing, i—fuck!”

denki knows he’s absolutely done for when he feels that familiar tightness taking root in his balls. your ass is just so perfect, so plump and perky and wonderful to get off on. it’s good, so damn good, and the relief that washes over him in warm waves with every stroke is even better—denki’s gonna cum, and he’s gonna cum hard.

stray tears fall down his cheeks as it occurs to him, just how fucking filthy he’s being—so desperate, all for you and only for you. denki’s actually about to cum, and he just needs one final push to successfully make it over the edge. although he’s hazy with so much lust that it’s excruciating, he does notice the intentional press of your ass against him.

you’re awake, and you’re helping him out. oh god, you’re even whispering sweet, sleepy nothings to him to encourage him to cum—denki squeezes his wet eyes shut and emits a whine so loud it may not even be considered human.

“oh fuck, oh fuck,” denki’s sobbing now, fingernails digging into your skin as if you’ll fade away like a dream, “gonna cum, baby—ugh, you feel so fucking good—can’t hold it..”

with one final rut of his hips into your ass, denki cums. a series of shudders rock his whole body and leave his hands shaking uncontrollably, until you envelop them in your own to calm him. spent and too weak to get up and change his soaked boxers, denki curls into your side, still coming down from his hysteric euphoria.

“sorry i . . made a mess,” he heaves out, chest working hard to breathe, “i’ll clean it up.”

an easy laugh slips out of you as you fully turn to cuddle him. “you better. anyway, would now be the right time to ask what the hell got into you?”

he’s falling asleep again. “it’s always you. like, just seeing you beside me when i wake up—i can’t.”

“denki, i think it’s time to get up. alarm’s going off in less than five minutes.”

“don’t care,” he huffs, pulling you in with the last of his strength before you can pull away. “if you stay, i’ll make it worth your while when i can feel my legs again. they’re numb.”

“okay, but what does that have to do with—”

denki clears his throat and peels an eye open. “silent snuggling time. just snooze the alarm and relax with me, babe.”

[miange1]

I NEED MORE BRIAN MOSER AHHHH

Brian Moser, with a lover that's "too sweet"

male leaning reader, brian is a freak, being nervous more than shy, arguments, accidental guilt tripping, manipulation(at first), reader gives off innocence but they're not they're just a virgin, fake names, being overly touchy, blow jobs

note: had an idea so i just used this ask as an excuse to finally post it. also if you notice typos no you don't im not fixing them

— You were his first actual relationship in which didn't involve murder or trying to get closer to Dexter. Or so he remembers, he probably had that intention at first yet completely forgot about it due to his own feelings.

— Meeting you felt like a bunch of perfumes and flowers were thrown at his face— you were smiling and speaking with him like he was your long lost friend or your boyfriend, like you knew him since forever.

"Oh! Rudy!" He instantly felt his heart speed up, feeling more nervous than he's ever been in his entire life and you weren't even calling out his real name. He needs to calm down, seriously he's sweating way too much.

"I missed you so much, how have you been?" He felt your arms wrap around him tightly, yet ater the hug your hands took his and held them as if they were the most delicate things in the world, besides you.

The man could barely get his words out, stuttering every now and then and looking away from you often. Your thumb was swiping softly over the top of his knuckles, why were you looking at him like that.

— Getting with you was the most romantic thing he has ever thought of. Taking you out to a place where it was peaceful yet beautiful, and he could confess to you and actually mean it.

— It was the best place he could find, it was hot but lovely. When he confessed, you stayed quiet for far too long and he thought you didn't want him. You were just in so much shock, it's been a bit since someone was this genuine to you.

— Floating on air is what he felt like each time he was with you. When you were able to visit his work, you showed him with kisses each and every single time even after arguments which was something he would have a heavy weight on his shoulders about.

"Debra doesn't at all have a thing for me, what the hell are you talking about!" You were blinking back heavy tears trying to see his side as best as you could, yet everything just went a bit too far. From understanding to a plain bicker.

"It's obvious she does, and she's in your office more than I am!" He rolled his eyes, his fingers on his nose and pinching the bridge. He knew Debra had a thing for him, but what he didn't know was why he lied seeing you fight for him like this. He liked seeing you get jealous.

"Because it's her job." Yet you protested, "I understand that but.." you couldn't get the rest out, starting to cry and you instantly felt embarrassed. "Sorry— shit, I'm sorry.." His upset look rested, sighing as he went closer to you for an embrace.

"No, it's my fault." He admitted, his arms squeezing your frame in a comforting manner as you cried into his chest.

He was so turned on right now.

— Brian had a bunch in which you were a virgin, he just would have never guess he was actually right about it.

— All he wanted was a small make out for a bit, yet it had escalated and you were on your knees. God, you looked so pretty.

"Ah, ah, your teeth.. Good..that's it." He leaned his head back, the warmth of your mouth and tongue working at his girth. For your first time even giving head you were real good at following his directions. You did it just how he liked it. Tongue swirling, spit mixing with what leaked from him, it was heaven.

He jutted his hips forward a bit, catching you by surprise and giving you the urge to wanna pull back, which didn't happen due to Brian's fingers tangling in your hair— and pushing your head back forward. "Doing so well, fuck.." you practically weren't evenoving anymore, and if you were you had just been going ragdoll and moving along with Brian's pulls.

His dick twitched in your mouth as he heard a gargled moan, fuck he was gonna cum just from hearing that alone. Then he'd hear you whine, almost impatiently. "Hush you're fine, just keep on— God, yes.." eyes rolling back, feeling your nose poke at his pelvis the deeper he pushed you down when he came. Letting go of your hair, he let your head fall back a bit before he forced your mouth closed.

"Swallow."

— Sooner or later he would then wonder why you were a virgin in the first place, yet you did date people for long periods of time.

"I don't know, when I asked after break up they said they just couldn't."

— He got the hint for himself.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 kunoichi

synopsis: the story of how you met the strawhat crew (and your swordsman)

cw: lots of fluff, comfort, angst if you squint, slightest hint of simp zoro, you're a bad-ass, luffy saves you.

a/n: reposted from another account

'I can't believe I let this happen... I'm such an idiot...'

You knew the creak of a disembarking ship all too well, which only told you that the Strawhats were back way before the estimated time.

'S'what I get for trusting Kovu with gathering intel...'

With a sigh, you placed the rolled up poneglyph prints in their respective tubes and tied them to your back, silently ducking into the shadows when you heard footsteps outside the door.

You were currently aboard the Thousand Sunny, the flagship of the Strawhats, trying to steal their poneglyph prints for your boss.

It was a simple job, too. They were docked at some random island for supplies, and the reindeer who was left behind to watch the ship had fallen asleep.

No one would suspect a thing.

You should've been back on land by now, handing over the prints and finally breaking free from his abusive reign.

This job was your ticket to freedom.

Yet Kovu just had to fuck shit up.

'I can't stay holed up in this room forever. They'll get too far from land.'

With a huff, you slowly opened the door, happy to sense that no one was around.

'I need to find a way to get to the back of the ship. I can jump from there, and probably swim back.'

Quietly, you ran toward the stairs, happy you went barefoot for this mission instead of using your getas.

There was no possible way to get back there without being seen, so the least you could do was be fast about it.

You were up the stairs in the blink of an eye, and now sprinting straight for the gigantic, cannon-looking thing attached to the back of the boat.

'Almost home free...'

For the first time in years, you smiled, freedom just in reach.

Until it wasn't.

"YOHOHOHO! Um, guys! There's a lovely lady trying to sneak off the ship!" a skeleton man shrieked, landing in front of you and blocking your easy exit, drawing a sword from his cane. "AHHHH! SHE HAS THE PONEGYLPHS!"

Soul King Brook

'Dammit! Time to try the front!'

You back flipped, twisting yourself in the air so you landed the oposite way, allowing you to book it in the other direction.

"You can't be serious!" a redheaded woman exclaimed, running up the steps and to the back deck with a small orange and white staff in hand.

Cat Burgler Nami.

She ran at you, the staff extending into something much larger.

She swung, aiming for your head, but you dropped into a split just in time, using your extended leg to sweep her feet and knock her on her ass.

You grabbed her staff as he was distracted, squeezing it by accident. Out of nowhere, it extended impossibly long, shooting you into the air.

'Luck may be on my side today.'

You smirked as you flew up the side of the mast, getting about halfway up before planting your feet on it, running up the rest.

You managed to get to the yard, perching yourself so you could look for another form of escape, when you sensed something.

Nico Robin.

You jumped off the yard, grabbing onto it like a monkey bar just as four pale arms sprouted from the wood, attempting to grab you.

"Whoa! That's so cool!" a giddy voice exclaimed from below.

Your gaze quickly shifted to the deck below, only to see that trademark hat, and the notorious man that it rested on.

'Strawhat!'

You could sense another attack coming your way so you swung yourself as if you were on uneven bars and let go, flying into the air.

"Is she nuts?! She's gonna kill herself from that height!" a large man with weirdly shaped blue hair exclaimed from below.

Cyborg Franky.

The swing was too short.

You wouldn't go overboard.

'Curse these heavy cuffs!'

One silver cuff was attached to each of your ankles, their being there out of your control.

Noticing you were getting dangerously close to the ground, you imbued your legs with some haki and landed safely, creating a small crater on the grassy deck.

As the dust settled, you realized you were surrounded by Strawhat, the Pirate Hunter, and Blackfoot.

'Shit.'

"GAHHHH! SHE'S SO GORGEOUS! LOOK AT HER SHORT KIMONO!" Sanji squealed as his eyes turned into hearts, blood shooting from his nose.

Despite the blonde man's... awkward display, you sensed another pair of eyes on you, so much so that it practically burned.

The Pirate Hunter?

The second you turned to him, your heart caught in your throat.

You had seen his face on his wanted poster a few times before, and you'd be stupid to deny that he wasn't a handsome man, but looking at him in the flesh...

The pictures didn't even begin to do him justice.

And before you realized, the two of you locked eyes, and in an instant, it felt as if your legs turned to jelly.

A warm, fluttery feeling spread throughout your stomach, and it felt as if everything else in the world had stopped.

'What is feeling? Have I been poisoned?'

Just going off his glare, you could already tell that most cowered under his gaze.

So why were you reacting this way?

Shaking your head, you snapped yourself out of it, focusing on the task at hand.

'No time to gawk... back to work.'

"You... what are you doing on my ship? And why are you stealing Robin's ponegylphs?" Strawhat asked seriously, his face quite the contrast from his giddy expression before.

You sighed.

There was no way you could lie out of this mess.

"I am a kunoichi of the Iguro clan. And I have been ordered to steal your ponegylph prints," you stated, tone firm.

"Any idea why?" Nami asked, her and the rest of the crew walking over.

"None. I am left completely in the dark," you shook your head.

Your expression quickly turned determined.

"But I do know that this final job is my one way ticket out of hell, so peacefully or not, I'm leaving."

You lowered yourself into an offensive stance, glaring at Strawhat as his lips grew a smirk.

He cracked his knuckles, "Alright, then."

"Luffy, you better not hurt her!" Sanji fumed from the sidelines.

Using your haki, you peered into the near future to see him punch you with an extended arm.

'Can't have that.'

"Gum Gum Pistol!"

You tilted to the side, avoiding his hit with ease.

The entire group gasped, save for Zoro.

Strawhat's grin grew even larger, if that was possible, and he wound up both arms.

'A barrage of fists.'

"Gum Gum Gatling!"

The attack came quickly, but you dodged just like the first, flipping, lunging, and performing splits to dodge.

Imbuing your arms with haki, you grabbed one of his arms, harshly pulling him toward you.

And like a bungee cord, he came, and you slammed a flattened hand into the pressure point on his neck, knocking him out.

"Luffy!" the crew exclaimed.

Without hesitation, Zoro drew two of his swords and broke into a sprint, so you dropped his captain and drew your own katana, meeting his two with a sharp clash.

He smirked, which made that fluttery feeling return to your stomach.

"I see you use Ittoryu," he remarked with a slight rumble.

You smirked right back.

"I'm knowledgeable in the style, yes."

The both of you pushed off, returning to your stances before running at each other again.

Swords flew through the air as the both of you met the other's attack perfectly.

You lunged into an attack, but he blocked it yet again, so you hooked your outstretched foot on his ankle, deepening your lunge to pull him down.

He grunted, doing everything he could to keep his stance planted and balanced; so, you imbued your foot with haki, and he did the same for his.

He seemed almost surprised by the fact that you were still pushing your sword against his—despite your compromising position—openly demonstrating your strength, and proving it was comparable to his.

No even Tashigi could do that.

And not only was he impressed by the woman in front of him, but in silent awe.

Sure, your beauty was what caught his attention first—he was a man, after all.

Smooth, chestnut skin...

Plump lips...

Beautiful hip dips and curves...

Sparkling, (e/c) eyes, which looked as if they held stars in your gaze...

But now that he saw your fighting prowess, and raw strength along with it...

Well, you could say you had him hook, line, and sinker.

Still, you kept strong, holding your sword firm in its place as the Pirate Hunter continued to push down.

That is... until the pain equivalent to a thousand lightning bolts stemmed from your ankles.

'No! Not now!'

As you let out a cry of pain, Zoro quickly pulled away his swords, moving before the electricity could be conducted to him.

You dropped your katana, falling over as you held yourself in agony, muffling your shouts of pain on your forearm.

"What's wrong? What did you do to her, moss for brains?!" Sanji asked, yelling at the green-hared swordsman.

"I didn't do anything to her!" Zoro fired back, glaring at the cook.

He didn't know why, but seeing you in so much pain made him hurt.

It was a sharp, pulling feeling, as if his heart was on a string connected to you.

"The shocks seem to be coming from her ankles," Robin pointed out, everyone's attention turning to the cuffs that adorned your feet.

"How do we git it off her? 'Cause that looks super painful," Franky asked, grimacing at the sight of you writhing in pain.

It was then that Strawhat got back up from the ground, looking at you with a blank face.

"Oi, (y/n)? Can you hear me?" your bossed asked, his voice coming from the cuffs.

"Shit," you cursed, weakly trying to get up.

"I'll take that as a yes," you could practically hear his smirk from the other side. "Lemme cut to the chase... you failed your mission, plain and simple. So, you know the consequences."

"No!" you let out a choking gasp, trying to speak through the pain. "I've... I've worked with you for ten years! My debt is paid! We had an agreement!"

"You stupid girl!" he cackled. "I was never going to honor our agreement! You're too good of an asset to pass up! You will work under me for the rest of your pathetic, little life!"

The ship went dead silent, the Strawhat crew looking at you sorrily as tears poured down your cheeks.

Ten years of your life... gone.

All because you believed in the word of a pirate.

He was right... you really were stupid.

Painfully, you turned to Strawhat, who looked over the situation intently.

That's when you got an idea, and settled on it instantly.

Down on your hands and knees, you bowed your head to the captain, the rest of the crew letting out quiet gasps.

"Strawhat, I... hnnggh... I apologize for knocking you out earlier and... un-understand that I am in no place to ask you for such a favor but..."

You lowered your head to the ground, accepting that you would have to die in a state of embarrassment and weakness.

"Please kill me."

If you thought the crew was shocked before, they were flabbergasted now.

Even Zoro.

"I've wasted the last ten years of my life with that monster. And now that there's no end in sight, I do not wish to live."

Strawhat kept the same neutral face as he slowly approached.

You took a deep breath, smiling as you realized your suffering would soon be over, and the bliss of nothingness would welcome you.

But it never came.

Strawhat instead walked past you, silently, and you understood.

'I should've known...'

Such a favor couldn't be done for someone who just stole from him.

Suddenly, you felt the weight release form your ankles, and the shocks stop.

Your eyes shot wide as you lifted your head, snapping around to see that Strawhat had broken the cuffs off for you.

"Hey, guy!" he shouted, leaning down to the broken pieces. "I don't know if you can hear me anymore, but know that (y/n) is under my protection! And she won't be paying back your stupid debt anymore!"

You breath was trapped in your chest, unable to comprehend the words coming out of his mouth.

In one motion, a man you had just met—a man that you tried to steal from—had set you free.

After ten years of hellish torture, you were finally free.

But you still tried to compose yourself, sniffling as he turned back around to face you.

"Why didn't you kill me?" you quietly asked, looking away from the man.

His smile grew into a full on grin, "All you needed was a little help. There was no reason to kill you."

Your eyes went wide.

There was no way.

This had to be a trick.

"Next time just ask."

Your ears perked at that part.

"Next time?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah! I meant to ask," he cheesed. "Do ya wanna join my crew? It'd be so cool if we had a kunoichi!"

You were shocked to say the least, looking over the rest of the crew's faces to see that they were smiling as well.

Never before had you been met with such kindness.

They weren't even getting anything in return.

You sniffled, clearing your throat.

"I would like that," you smiled, looking down at the ground.

As he cheered, and ordered Black Leg to cook a banquet in celebration, you wiped a stray tear from your cheek, looking up at the clear, blue sky.

Strawhat Luffy would never know the bounds of your thanks.

You could never repay him.

[nhmkhnh]

i love the jinx hyena mini fic u wrote but fun fact about female hyenas is that they have both female and male genitalia 😋 not trying to hint at anything buuuuut

ahhhh new knowledge!! and now i can't stop thinking about hyena!jinx with breeding kink...

drabble || dom!jinx x sub!f!reader || smut (minors & men dni)

tags: hyena-hybrid!jinx ;; heat ;; breeding kink ;; possessiveness ;; teasing ;; marking ;; unhinged praise ;; slight predator/prey vibes ;; scent kink ;; knotting, overstimulation.

she’s been pacing for hours.

you feel it before you hear it—heavy steps, animalistic in rhythm, claws dragging against the floor like a warning bell. and then the laughter.

that feral little cackle she always lets out when she’s in heat and knows you’re trying to pretend you don’t notice.

the doorknob rattles. then silence.

then jinx breathes against the crack in the door like she can smell how worked up you already are.

“bunny,” she purrs, voice wrecked with heat, “you hidin’ again?”

you don’t answer.

she pushes it open anyway.

and there she is—sweaty, trembling, pupils blown wide and teeth sharp. her canines peek out like she’s trying not to grin too wide, her matted blue hair sticking to her neck. her cock’s already hard, leaking against her abdomen, angry red and throbbing with need. her tail lashes behind her, agitated. starved.

she grabs you before you can run, pinning you to the mattress with a growl so low it rattles your ribs. “s’too late now,” she mutters against your skin, tongue dragging up your throat. “shouldn’t’ve smelled so sweet. you know what that does to me.”

her body burns hot like firewood, hips already grinding against your bare core, teasing your folds with the blunt head of her cock. you’re soaked and she hasn’t even slipped in yet.

“wanna put a baby in you,” she hisses, panting as her claws dig into your hips. “wanna ruin you so fuckin’ deep you laugh like me.” she giggles wildly, shaking against your body, then slams in—one brutal thrust, no mercy, no pause.

you scream.

she moans. loud. shameless. “yesss, fuck, just like that, bunny, tight little pussy just for me, yeah? gonna breed you, gonna keep you full—hah, hahh, c’mon, squeeze down on it—fuckin’ hell—”

her pace is devastating, rapid and deep, forcing you up the mattress. her knot swells at the base already, grinding against your clit every time she slams into you. she keeps laughing, a choked hyena giggle like she’s lost her mind, slurring praise and filth right against your ear.

“mine, mine, mine—your hole’s made for me—no one else gets this, right? just me? just your stupid hyena girl—hah—s-so good, baby, so f-fucking good—gonna knock you up so bad they’ll smell me on you for weeks—”

she bites into your shoulder hard enough to bruise, licking over it like she’s claiming you. you sob her name, clinging to her back as your orgasm builds fast and violent under the pressure of her knot.

you cum.

she loses it.

jinx howls, slamming in one final time before her cock bursts inside you, hot and thick, her knot locking her in place. you feel it flood your insides—ropes and ropes of thick, messy cum, twitching and pulsing until you’re stuffed full. you whimper from the pressure. she doesn’t stop.

she wraps herself around you like a rabid animal gone soft—kissing your tears, licking your cheek, nuzzling your throat with a low, wild purr.

“good girl,” she croons. “took it so well. gonna fill you again soon. gotta make sure it takes.”

and then she giggles again.

right into your skin.

like it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

I CAN DEFINITELY TAKE IT JINX PLS GIVE ME A CHANCE.

[angelltheninth]

Ahhhh we need more bashful Clark. Clark is a known, sweetie, okay? With that said…

Imagine coming up to Clark from behind, one greedy hand clasped around his left bouncy pectoral, one hand grabbing onto one of his firm ass cheeks (or maybe even grabbing onto his dick), and while giving each a little squeeze you say, "Is this all for me?"

Clark doesn't say anything at first, but the small gasp he lets out is proof you surprised him with your boldness. His face isn't visible from this angle, especially since he is 6’4, though you can see his ears turn red from your actions. After a pause, he responds with a soft and cute "...Yes." He can’t deny all of him is yours, and he loves that you give him all this attention, and it turns him into a puddle.

Anyway my request is body worship/praise kink for a soft and sweet Clark 😭 I want to make that man melt

I see your vision Anon, I trully do and you are so right.

Pairing: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, domestic fluff, muscles, praise kink, handjob, cum shot, broken furniture, height difference, whimpering

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Men who whimper... fuck... you know what I mean? Excuse me I blacked out and suddenly this was written.

He definately heard you walking up behind him but he had no idea that you would grab his chest and his cock like you did, that was a very bold move even for you. "This all for me, big guy?" You asked against his broad back, feeling his whole body shiver at the words as much as your actions.

Clark was silent for a few moments that in this tense situation felt longer. Then, barely audible, "Yes."

Even though you couldn't see his face from this angle you could easily imagine how red he was right now, as much as his cape if not more. His large cock pulsed under your hand, straining to hardness against your hand. It was very easy to rile him up.

"You want me right now?" He grunted as you unzipped his pants in response and pushed his pants and boxers below his balls.

"I always want you, Clark. You and this perfect cock, these perfect muscles, your sweet nature. Seriously, how you be so soft on the inside and so hard on the outside at the same time." His cock was so thick you couldn't wrap your hand around it, it was hot, pulsing and fucking heavy in your hand. "Can you pull your shirt up for me, handsome?"

Nodding he pulled it up and held it with his teeth, which also helped him stiffle his gasps when you fondled his pecks and pinched his nipples. He was always embaressed at how easily he got flustered.

Your hand moved up and down his cock, his full balls slapping against your tight fist at every stoke. "You're so cute. I love you so much, you big softie." You pressed your forehead against his flexing back.

Broken moans and whimpers sounded from his mouth, his whole body shaking more and more with each stroke and word you uttered.

He grabbed the end of the counter, needing something to ground himself with. Right before... a loud crack stopped you both.

"Oh shit. Clark..." You laughed as you leaned over to look at the broken off pieces of the kitchen counter now in his hands, and his still hard cock, dripping, overflowing with cum brought on by his sudden release. "You're still cute, by the way!" You heard him mumbling apologies into his shirt before he started laughing along with you. "Guess we have more than one mess to clean up. But I'll be using my mouth only for one."

[skelly-words]

Hey! If cool I was wondering if you could write tentacle smut. I’m not too sure on the plot but wanted reader to be very much in some sort of public setting with loads of people just watching as she gets railed by a tentacle. The kinks I wanted to ask if they could be in there is Voyourism (public sex), public nudity, squirting and/ watersports and overstimulation.

If not that is totally okay! I just wanted to ask :) and am exited to see what you come up with if your comfortable with writing this

okay cool so....

Not proofread, tags in the ask + spit a lil bit, ass eating, idk futa shenanigans, ahhhh milk (i kinda scared myself w/ this at the end)

My brain immediately went to big networking conventions that businesses have where the important people from the different corporate branches come together to drink, schmooze, and brag about sales numbers to each other.

Your boss asks you to come with her to help with the demonstration. The travel expenses and hotel costs are all covered, so you agree to spend the weekend on Wall Street with her.

I hate this, but there's the slightest bit of lore, so i ECOURAGE you to read the other parts first -> masterlist

MINORS DNI, stay away 18+ only

The presentation room of the hotel caters to corporate mixers like this. Circular dinner tables decorated with charcuterie fill out the hall. Your knee bounces nervously as people begin to file in. Saturday had been boring, spent bumming around the all-inclusive spa while your boss attended other company presentations not too dissimilar from this one.

"Relax." Your boss whispers. She sits in the squeaky folding chair beside you. Her hand lands comfortably on your thigh, stilling your knee with her warm touch. "All you have to do is bend over the podium."

You nod and try to emulate her flippant attitude. The bounce returns to your knee anyway because nerves are impossible to hide. The minutes slip by as people settle into their seats. The dimming lights act as a cue to hush the small talk and side conversations.

“Ready?” She gives your thigh a heady squeeze.

“Yea, ‘m ready,” you mumble.

Her gait is steady and comfortable up to the front of the room, and you trail behind in the shelter of her shadow. You smiled unsteadily at the sea of unfamiliar faces. Your boss tapped her knuckles on the podium, clearing her throat to get the rooms attention.

“Thank you all for coming,” she begins. “My branch is testing a few new methods of increasing productivity today. It’s all based on the same principle, ‘a happy mind is profitable one.’

“Of course, we’ll begin with the demonstration, just to prove how much it’ll help you focus on the rest of the presentation.”

An interested hum sweeps through the crowd as she leads you around the front of the podium. You aren’t wearing panties, only a skirt, which immediately becomes apparent as she lifts your waist up to the podium. The sturdy wooden surface slopes slightly up toward the room, propped up for dozens of eyes ogle your bare skin.

The position makes blood rush to your head, almost dizzy from the heavy heartbeat in your ears. Your skin feels hot and sensitive. The skirt tickles, sliding down the gentle slope of your back. You wonder if they can see how wet you are, cunt aching from all the attention.

The speech sounds so far away, like all your senses are dulling to make way for the electricity running beneath your skin. From the corner of your eye, you see a couple workers wheel three tanks up to the front of the podium.

The terrariums are large and damp, too fogged up from humidity to see anything through the glass. They're pushed into a neat line, starting at your side and progressing to the front of the stage in single file. The tank closest to you is the smallest. It's the only one you can properly look into because the creatures have suctioned themselves to the wet panes. Their round bodies flatten into mounds on the glass, little mouths busily opening and closing. You watch them, mindlessly observing them inch in little circles, around and round, maybe spirals if you spent enough time staring. You shiver, imagining the pattern it could suck into your skin. From your position now, you wonder if you look anything like that mouth on the glass to that polite crowd of people.

You feel a warm hand skim over your ass, inviting your neatly pleated skirt to drape over your back completely. The gauzy brown fabric went well with your blouse, and you remember packing it for this conference a week in advance. It feels silly now, to think what you're wearing matters when it's really the demonstration that's important.

The first tank slides open with a squeak, and your boss pulls a writhing blue tentacle out with a cloud of steam following it. You can barely see what's happening in your peripheral vision and only when you turn your head to the side. She wastes no time at all, taking the companies limited resources into account, the conference room was only reserved for an hour. Her other hand traces up and down your back, nails first, to scratch gently through the layers of fabric.

"You're doing great, hun." She whispers the reassurance into your ear, low and husky so only you can hear it. In one motion, she presses the end of the tentacle into your butt. It's bigger than what you had at home, which is what you prepped for. Her hand flattens to soothing circles when the pain comes through in your groans. You quiet to a whimper as the thing flails, twisting to orient itself inside you. It still hurt, but you were adjusting quickly to the pressure in your ass as it slithers down to find your pussy.

Now, no matter how you turn, you can't see what's going on. The suckers drag against you, that much is easy to discern from the sense of touch. The rest of your senses besides that have gone totally useless, so you watch the hypnotic pattern that the specimens in the last tank trace in the condensation.

The blue tentacle pushes into you. It's fat, thick and showy so the people in the back can see. Your eyes might be crossing from the way it slowly stretches you out. A shiny blue slime drips from every pore, sucker, and gland on the thing, making you squish obscenely from every movement. In. Out. In. Out. And your boss is still talking, you can even see the slides she flicks through when your eyes roll back, but it all sounds like white noise as the monstrous size shoves into your cunt, slipping out to momentarily attach an oozing sucker to your clit. Then it squirms right back into your hole, so slick that it runs down the inside of your thighs.

It's hopeless to imagine paying attention to anything else.

"But that's when we ran into the issue of hygiene. Clearly, this doesn't fit corporate dress-code."

That cuts through your thoughts, followed by light chuckles. The second tank slides open with a thunk, and you don't have to crane as much to see the pink tentacle calmy wrap around her arm.

"Oh, f-fuck," you finally make a sound audible over the disgusting squelch of that blue monster. She's trying to press the thick bulb at the end of the pink one into you, leaning real close, almost cheek to cheek as she forces it further past your rim. A glob of spit falls from her lips, you groan as she smears it around with her tongue.

"Just relax for me." And you're not even sure she's talking to you in that raspy tone. The hand on your back has inched lower to keep you pinned in place, and it's making you sore from how the podium’s edge digs into your hips.

Your sounds fall freely now, turning to whines as she licks you to ease the stretch. The hand on your back lightens up as the fat plug slides into place alongside the blue one. An affectionate smack lands on your ass, rubbing her warm palm over the spot as she watches the pink tentacle unfurl and flatten.

You can't see it, only whine as the weight shifts and adjusts inside you. The blue tentacle stops moving as if to behave and play nice with a friend. The gummy feelers attach as the pink tentacle latches on. It cups your swollen pussy, cleaning up the appearance quite nicely to the audience's disappointment. But your moans grow louder, echoing to let you know the sound made it to the back of the room. The little fingerlings lining the pink tentacles interior are so active. They pinch at your clit, making it slip between the soft jelly limbs while the others started playing with the rest of you.

"...And when properly stimulated, this specimen can be prompted to release its reproductive material on command." That faint comment reminds you of the eggs.

Your gasp is mixed between startled and concerned when her hand begins to brush the tentacle wrapped around your crotch. Being stuffed with the twitching blue tentacle makes you wonder where all the slimy eggs will go.

At her light brushes, the tendrils start to pull you apart. They slip inside you, just barely, enough to make your legs start to shake. You can feel them start to pour in as her thumb pushes down, squeezing out the soft spawn like horrific toothpaste as she slides the digit up from the base.

The blue tentacle comes back to life now, helping push the pink jelly into your poor pussy. You can feel the tiny limbs scoop and blue suckers fuck the eggs up against your sore cervix. And still, nobody can see. Your boss stands over you. Her hand trails between your thighs, tapping in the drying slick that's become tacky. She tugs at the tip of the tentacle, pinching firmly at the pink appendage and peeling it back.

Not all the eggs made it inside, rolling down your thighs as the mess is exposed. She's slow with her reveal, trailing her fingers through the juices to try the combination. You've gotten quieter, trying to keep your whimpers silent now that it's easier to hear. She starts to pull at the plug, and you have to bite your lip to keep it down. It doesn't wanna come out of your ass, still pulsing from so recently releasing eggs. Still, she tugs, making you squirm and clench your cunt. You've been on the edge for so long, and feeling the stretch to your rim makes your thighs squeeze together. They can barely shut to rub around your throbbing clit.

"I might as well introduce the last one then." She gives up on freeing the pink tentacle with a frustrated sigh and finally steps behind the podium to reach the tank in your eyeline. "They fit perfectly under your bra, so we'll both be demonstrating."

Your eyes follow her hand, from the lid, to inside the tank, to the buttons on her shirt. You strain to look up at her because she's standing so close, watching with jealousy as that thing sucks on her nipple. Her breasts look bigger too, spilling from her bra when she tries to squish them back into her shirt. A glance back down makes you blush. A bulge starts to bubble from her pencil skirt. It wouldn't be very noticeable if it wasn't a few inches from your nose.

"My turn?" You look up at her from between watery lashes, bending to smiling crescents when she nods. She lifts your chest just enough from the podium to let the green lump latch onto you. It doesn't seem to mind being squashed against the wood when she lowers you back down. They feel good, sucking at your breasts in a perfectly alternating rhythm. You start to feel weird, hotter as your tits get sore. The mouths pinch a little, not enough to hurt, barely more than a warning bite. You groan, the throbbing in your ruined pussy is getting worse. It makes you imagine what your boss is feeling. The pre dripping into her underwear. You probably could take her cock too if she asked you. She's still giving a presentation, talking through a slide as the buttons on her dress shirt strain. Her hand slips back to your butt, where it was yanking the bigger plug out of you.

She braces the opposite hand on your asscheek, rocking the pink tentacle back and forth to coax it out. You can barely hold sound back, dissolving into pitchy breaths when the fat blue fucker decides to start up again. It starts slow, but that pace doesn't last. After packing you with eggs, it's eager to let its cum out. Every loud thrust makes the eggs probe deeper. You can feel it in your tummy, pressed flat to the uncomfortably hard podium.

Your sensitive nipples pulse in time with the relentless suckers. You can't even care to be surprised as they spurt milk, moaning instead from the toy twisting in your ass.

The pink tentacle finally slips out of you, put back in its tank where it belongs. But you're sore, hole left gaping for the blue one to fill in as it swells. It gets bigger in your pussy too, larger with each beat. Even as she talks, her fingers can't stop playing with you, either pinching at your skin or dragging a digit through your slit. Her microphone is ther only thing keeping her intelligible over your cries, strung out from the pleasure.

Her fingers swirl around your clit, so sensitive. The touch isn't any more than light nibbles on your chest, but it makes you gasp and jump against her hand. You start to cum when she twists harder. The moans inside you spill out in one cry as you squirt. The pinch to your clit makes you spurt all over the front of her clothes.

She gasps in disgust and yanks you off the podium. The flooring is carpet, soft enough for your sore ass when you slump against the sturdy wood.

Your boss brushes off the interruption like nothing, simply indicating the conclusion of the demonstration as the slides flick to a new segment. She steps carefully between your legs when walking back to her place behind the podium.

The front of your blouse is halfway unbuttoned, however much was needed to get those creatures on, and now you notice how swollen they made your tits. You whine as the blue thing keeps moving between your thighs. There's more leverage at this angle and you don't know if you should moan or cry. In a few stunted thrusts, cum starts to fill you up, thick ropes of it that still somehow leak out from between all the eggs and the fat tentacle.

The pretty blue sheen coats your inner-thighs and the conference room floor. Something’s still wrong though. The ache between your legs isn't gone, not completely no matter how much your sore body begs to stop. It's the milk, or the hormones that come with it asking for just a little more. The demonstration portion is over. You're done, everyone's supposed to be focused on the woman speaking.

You slip a hand to your clit, circling the bud with shaking fingers. Just one more, and you'll be fine. Your boss doesn't even notice the room's eyes drifting lower. The blue tentacle indulges you, lazily moving in your cunny along with a few pumps of its warm seed. You can look at the lump it makes in your stomach from this angle.

This time, the orgasm builds fast and you have to muffle soft pants against your hand as you cum. Your poor pussy hurts, but you still need another and the tight circles on your clit don't let up.

There can't be that much more time before the hour is up and she has to get these things off you. Yet, your wrist is getting sore and weak dribbles of piss leak out of you at each peak. You notice people in the crowd hiding their arousal, and that somehow makes your crazy mind even hornier. Your abused clitty gives a heartbeat to your thumb each time someone palms their crotch or crosses their legs, still trying to be politely discreet.

The lights brighten as the presentation ends and a few odd bursts of scattered applause break out at a few tables. You still don't have the decency to leave your needy cunt alone, finally closing your legs around the blue tendril still curled up inside you as the people leave the room to pick a brochure up.

I had another anon ask abt going to find a new tentacle with the coworker from pt.2, but I kinda decided they were aliens (pink and blue both would normally use a host for mating and the suckers kinda do the same thing but for food, ig they're all just parasites sorry if that's gross), so i added a new variety into this one for you <3

A/N- how'd she do that? i would've gone ngh~ *squish* IMMEDIATLY, sry can you tell idk anything about an office job? oh well, stfu and enjoy the smut then (this is way over the top 😭) Also why did i give myself the displeasure of two (2) unnamed characters, give me names for Ms. boss or i'll start adding y/n (a threat)

[skibasyndrome]

You’re phenomenal! Thank you for all the ficlets!

wall sex?? 🫶

“Wrap your legs around my waist, baby.”

ahhhh, you're so so lovely, thank YOU for being lovely and for reading 🥺🥰and also thank you so much for sending me this prompt, dearest anon!!! like DAMN 👀👀👀

I hope you like what i did with it, enjoyyy 💜

cw: very much nsfw

Read down below or over on ao3

With a low groan, and a tremendous amount of willpower, Simon pushes Wille off him. He exhales deeply, pressing his eyes shut to block out the sinful sight in front of him.

Wille kneeling for him will never not affect Simon, Wille's mouth and tongue and his noises and his eyes will never not drive him to the drink of sanity. But Simon needs more, needs him differently right now. "Up...," he begs, fingers detangling from Wille's hair, stroking down his neck, grabbing at his shoulder, his stupidly firm and stupidly strong shoulder. He thinks he can hear Wille smile where he's pressing wet kisses into the quivering skin of Simon's belly, still too close to Simon's cock for Simon to think straight. He digs his fingertips into the strong muscles of Wille's shoulder, trying to get him up here finally. In retaliation, Wille squeezes Simon's hips again, presses him against their bedroom wall even harder. Simon's stomach swoops dangerously. "Please," he tries again, uselessly struggling against Wille's wonderfully firm grip. That seems to do the trick, has Wille get back to his feet, has him loosening his grip on Simon. And he can't have that. As soon as Wille bends down, crashes their mouths together, Simon searches for his hands, pulls them close, puts them right back where they were, right where Simon hopes Wille's fingertips have left indents. He moans, partially at the taste of himself on Wille's tongue, partially at the way Wille gets it and grabs him again, possessive and firm and strong and rendering Simon deliciously immobile. Simon feels him when he presses closer, working his hips in tiny circles, grinding his clothed erection against Simon's thigh. God. Simon needs this. "Fuck me," he gets out between kisses and drags an uncoordinated hand up Wille's back and into his hair, then over his shoulder, pulling him even closer. He feels Wille nod against him. And feels the way Wille's muscles move under his fingers, warm and solid and strong. He pushes down with his fingertips, suddenly desperate to feel more of them. He has been working out more ever since he got back into rowing at the beginning of the semester. And Simon has noticed, has been taken by surprise once, twice, a couple times, by the way his shirts stretch around his shoulders these days. Has traced the divots of his shoulders and back again and again. When Wille pulls away, it drags a desperate noise out of Simon. He scrambles to get him close again, keep his hands pressed against Wille's back. But no luck.

Wille grabs his hand, tugs, tries to pull him off the wall. "Come on," Wille says, smiling as he's inclining his head to gesture towards the bed. But Simon stays, swallows hard, drags his eyes from Wille's face down to his naked chest and to the bulge in his shorts. And makes a decision. Wordlessly, he pulls his hand back, looks up to meet Wille's eyes again. After a moment, the turns around, props his arms up against the wall, widens his stance and curves his back a little, just enough so Wille understands. Just enough to make an offer that he hopes Wille will take. Wille sucks in a sharp breath behind him. "Fuck, baby...," he hums and Simon smiles to himself, knowing he's got him. Wille's palm lands on the small of his back, warm and heavy and moving so slowly that Simon's skin pebbles into goose bumps. He lets out a sigh and leans further into it, angling his ass out when Wille moves his hands down over his ass cheeks, thumbs sliding in and spreading him slowly, almost reverently. It's just enough to make heat pool in Simon's stomach, enough to make him even more desperate. "Wille..." He knows he sounds needy, but Wille complies. Simon braves the loss when Wille suddenly lets go of him. He immediately returns, the familiar snap of the bottle cap making the heat in Simon's stomach well up. Yes, he thinks when he hears Wille slick up his fingers. "Yes...," Simon sighs, long and drawn out, when Wille's fingers return, gently rubbing lube down his crack, teasing at his rim. In spite of the air leaving his lungs at the touch, Simon speaks again. "Can start with two," he says, feeling his face flush. But Wille lets out a low groan and does, breaching Simon, giving him exactly the stretch he's been waiting for. His knees buckle when Wille pulls them out again immediately after, tapping the fluttering muscle before he slides back home.

Wille doesn't ask, but Simon feels like telling. "Got ready for you," he says, suppressing a moan when Wille starts working his fingers in slow, measured thrusts. "Thought of you when I was in the shower earlier," he continues, lowering his head and licking his lips. "Wanted you to come home and take me right away." Wille's movements falter and he groans. "Simon...," he says, sounding awestruck and appreciative. Simon just nods, not caring whether Wille is watching. Too busy concentrating on the way Wille's fingers feel when he twists them and scissors them and- Simon's knees buckle when Wille presses against that spot inside of him. "Fuck..." He needs him, oh he needs him badly. He needs Wille to push into him, he needs Wille to hold him up, he needs Wille to press him up against the wall and have his way with him. Carefully, fighting off his impatience, Simon moves his hips forward, regretfully moving away from Wille's fingers. Simon quickly turns, soothing the loss by searching Wille's mouth again, hot and eager and biting and gorgeous. "How do you want me to-" "Wall," Simon immediately shoots back, before he can think about it. He's desperate for it to work, desperate to at least try. Desperate for the thought that has made him come into his own fist earlier to become a reality. Wille pulls away, roaming Simon's face with wild eyes. "Like...?" Simon flushes again, having to spell it out. He gets to work at Wille's waistband to distract himself, untying the bow and immediately shoving the fabric down along with Wille's briefs. He takes the small plastic container from Wille's hand, pumps a generous amount into his hand. "Think you could lift me?" Simon asks as he wraps his fist around Wille's cock for the first time today, pumping him slowly. Slicking him up. "Think we can- that you can press me up against it while you fuck me?" he says, thumb circling the leaking head of Wille's cock. Wille's hips jerk, pushing himself further into Simon's fist with a surprised moan. His hands immediately find Simon's hips again, pushing him the last bit and slamming him up against the wall. Wille immediately bends down to kiss Simon again.

"Yes," he says, completely breathless. "God," he moans then, hands sliding back and down towards Simon's thighs. "Wrap your legs around my waist, baby" he coos, squeezing the flesh and rutting into Simon's hand at the same time. "Arms around my neck." God. Simon loves the assertiveness, loves the confidence, loves that Wille wants to give him this. He quickly crosses his arms behind Wille's neck, presses his back more firmly against the wall. Then, with nothing more than a short grunt, Wille lifts him up, large strong hands under Simon's thighs and crowding into the space between his legs. This might be better than Simon has imagined. Wille is looking at him with those big, dark eyes, with kiss-bitten lips, with his tongue coming out to lick over them. Simon is surprised by how effortless this seems, by how easily Wille pins him down, in between the hard wall and his firm body. He's equally surprised when Wille's hands slide further up and onto his ass, fingers dipping into his taint and stretching to pat at his fluttering hole. He blinks against the feeling, squeezing his legs more tightly around Wille's middle, sinking further into Wille's hold of him. He's deliciously weightless in Wille's arms, feeling so open and ready in a way he can't remember ever feeling before. The thought that Wille can seemingly lift him onto his cock, just like that, is making him doubt his own stamina, afraid this could be over more more quickly than he'd like. Wille has really been working up some muscles. It makes Simon swallow hard when he meets Wille's eyes again. "Hold on tight," Wille says. His voice is low and breathy, he's similarly in awe as Simon. Simon nods, locks his arms.

Wille shifts, moves so he's only supporting him with one hand, using the other to angle and hold his cock to sink into Simon. Simon can feel him, brushing up against his hole and a jolt of renewed heat shoots through him. "Gotta help me, baby," Wille's eyes meet Simon's. "Can you lower down for me?" Simon moans, nodding again, arm muscles straining and then, finally, slowly, in a joint effort of holding and lifting and thrusting and sinking down, Wille slides home. The feeling chases all the air out of Simon's lungs, has him gasping and pressing his eyes shut. He loves the stretch, the flares of heat up his spine, the feeling of delicious, all-encompassing fullness that comes with it. Always loves it. But with his arms shaking and legs tightly wrapped around Wille, with him trapped between a wall and a solid body, it's nearly overwhelming. His eyes water at the onslaught of pleasure washing through him. "Oh god..." He hears Wille's voice closer than before, realizes that he's slumped forward, forehead landing on Simon's shoulder. Willing his body to get used to it, willing himself back from the looming edge, Simon's tries to find his voice again. "Too heavy?" He feels Wille move his head against his shoulder, feels Wille's other hand return to his ass, to hold him, to stabilize him, to... Simon doesn't have to hope for more than a fleeting moment, because Wille moves a few fingers further down, carefully feeling where their bodies are joint. Simon's heart is about to jump right out of his chest when Wille's fingers slide along the slick skin, gently pressing, massaging, teasing, stoking the flames higher and higher. He mouths a few sloppy kisses into the crook of Simon's neck. He doesn't stop the tiny movements of his fingers when he lifts his head again to look right at Simon. Simon doesn't know how he's going to survive this. "Don't know how long I can," Wille says, strained. "Don't know if," he interrupts his own sentence with a groan when Simon flexes his thighs to move against him, "if I can last." He sounds desperate, broken, apologetic and Simon wants to laugh and cry and kiss him, and never ever let go. But all he can do is nod. "Yeah," he agrees, stroking rubbing the back of Wille's neck. "Just... however long is fine." He means it, wholeheartedly. There's something about the thought of Wille holding him up like this, rutting into him until Wille comes that sends a shiver down Simon's spine.

He suddenly needs his mouth again, uses his hand on the back of Wille's neck to urge him closer. When he does, come closer, folding Simon in half to kiss him, both of them moan. Just as their tongues brush, almost too languid for just how long urgently Simon needs them to do more, Wille starts moving against him. Tiny thrusts, barely pulling back. "Can't move a lot," he pants against Simon's mouth, as if that's a problem. "'s good," Simon says, because there are no words for just how strangely amazing he feels. Wille is lifting him the tiniest bit with every thrust, is digging his fingers into the squish of Simon's legs and ass, is holding him up and pinning him down and taking him apart with the tiniest ruts of his hips. There's a possessiveness to it that is playing dangerous tricks on Simon's mind. There's something in the way Simon gets to watch Wille's arm muscles bulge and flex. There's something about Wille's sounds, getting louder and louder and less and less coherent as he's more grinding than thrusting into Simon. It feels like more, feels like so much more, gravity and Wille's fighting against it for Simon making him feel so utterly, wonderfully at Wille's mercy. "Fuck...," he pants out, just as Wille's hips stutter against him. Simon's fingers dig harder into Wille's shoulder and his back, fingers slipping on his damp skin. There's a bead of sweat forming on Wille's face, starting at his hairline, and in a split second Simon decides to lurch forward and lick it off his cheek bone. Wille's next moan mixes with a breathy laugh. Simon is absolutely sickeningly in love with this man. He wonders just how long they've got until they have to stop, until Simon becomes too heavy, until Wille loses his grip, but then Wille's movements stutter again, and he sinks impossibly further against Simon. "Touch yourself," Wille says, quick and confident and with an edge to it that Simon wants to sink his teeth into. The command lodges itself firmly in the pit of his stomach, makes his blood rush faster, makes him clench down harder where he's split open. Simon does't have it in him to nod, simply wedges a hand between them, moaning when he gives himself some much-needed friction. "You think you can?" Wille's panting is a tell-tale sign, one that makes Simon swallow hard. Oh fuck. He's going to- It's a heady realization. "Yeah," he moans, squeezing himself harder, twisting his wrist in a way that makes him shudder against Wille's body. It's like they're stuck in a unrelenting cycle, pushing each other further along. Because Wille is rushing forward, is pressing himself against Simon in a way that makes any movement difficult, but only serves to make Simon's head spin faster. Pinned down. Entirely at his mercy. Wille is pressing sloppy kisses to the side of his neck, nibbling here and there and grunting in between. He curses. "Can't believe I am-," he can't finish, shifts a little to readjust and- Simon sobs out a broken moan when Wille hits right there. He's barely making sense, Simon is barely listening, too focused on moving his straining wrist and breathing through the hot sparks of heat that shot through him with Wille's cock nudging that spot inside him.

"Simon, you're so-" Simon doesn't get to hear what he is. He just feels Wille's body go rigid against his, feels and sees and hears him fall over the edge, spilling deep inside. And for a breathtaking moment, that's all there is. Simon's body still held up, held close, held tight, and Wille falling apart against him, in him. Just a second later, Wille claims Simon's gaping mouth and reaches between them, bats Simon's stilled hand away, to pull him along. A few hurried strokes later, Simon's lips go slack against Wille's, as he comes between their sweaty bodies. He doesn't know who's the first to laugh. He just knows that a few moments, seconds, a minute or two later, both of them are laughing breathlessly, foreheads and noses bumping. Simon only stops laughing when Wille grows too soft, winces when he slips out of him. But Wille quickly kisses it better, lowers Simon down as gracefully and carefully as he's still able to. He immediately slumps against Wille, lets Wille wrap a supporting arm around his middle as they wordlessly make their way towards the bathroom. Simon trails a lazy finger over Wille's biceps.

Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here

also pls let me know what you think <3

[agustdsluv]

when it happened to them.

summary | He thinks she’s moved on. She thinks he’s forgotten. But the truth? The world ended for them both. Three months pass. Another chance encounter. This time, no more pretending. He tells her he never stopped loving her. She tells him he still lives in her dreams. They kiss like the past never ended. “We don’t hug now. But we do. And we always should’ve.”

“And in that dream, I will say everything I wanted”

Inspired by Sydney Rose’s “we hug now”

paring | jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings | angst, second chance romance, best friends to lovers to strangers to lovers again, emotional hurt/comfort, poetic realism, soft contemporary, emotional heartbreak, themes of miscommunication / growing apart, unspoken feelings, grief over lost connection, lingering attachment / unresolved tension, heavy nostalgia, bittersweet flashbacks, kissing / implied emotional intimacy (no explicit content), (emotional repression, sadness, regret)

word count : 1.8K

notes: ahhhh I’m so sorry this is so late. I lost the original version of this and it didn’t back up to my cloud for some reason. I had to re write the whole thing and it isn’t as good as the original version plus it’s actually shorter than the original….but l tried my best to write it from what l could remember! hope you guys liked it!

MAIN M.LIST

part 1. | part 2. | part. 3

It’s been three months since the last time she saw him.

Three months since that strange, aching moment outside the 7-Eleven. Since she hugged him and almost cried into his shoulder just because it still smelled the same—faint laundry detergent and memory. Three months since he looked at her like he was holding something back. Something heavy. Something he didn’t trust her with anymore.

The world didn’t end, but it tilted. Slightly. Quietly. Everything has felt a little sideways since.

She’s gone through the motions. School. Work. Sleep. She’s talked about him in therapy—carefully, vaguely, like he was a ghost instead of a person. She’s written his name in poems and deleted it in drafts. She’s told herself she’s fine more times than she can count.

But she still dreams about him.

Still wonders if he ever thinks about her.

Still watches the sky for signs that something—anything—is about to shift.

And tonight, for the first time in what feels like forever, the sky above Seoul is clear. Only slightly. Only barely. But enough.

She pauses outside her apartment building, her paper grocery bag digging into her arm, and tilts her head up. A single star. Dim. Flickering. Fighting to be seen through the haze.

And she thinks of him immediately.

“Are you seeing this too?” she whispers, barely audible, barely brave.

She doesn’t know if she means the moon… or him.

It’s a Wednesday night, and the rain hasn’t stopped for hours.

The world outside the bookstore windows is slick and gray, with streetlight halos bleeding into puddles. The shop is quiet—most people staying home, warm under blankets, far from cracked sidewalks and old regrets.

Y/N is working the closing shift. She’s behind the counter with her sleeves rolled up and her fingers stained with black ink from a broken pen. The shop smells like dust and cinnamon tea. The soft hum of lo-fi music plays low through the overhead speakers.

She’s halfway through writing a note for a customer order when the door opens with a soft chime.

She doesn’t look up at first. “Hey, welcome in,” she says automatically, scribbling, “Let me know if you need anyth—”

“Y/N.”

Her hand freezes mid-word.

That voice.

Her stomach drops and rises all at once. Her heart, too. Like someone just grabbed it in their palm and squeezed. Her pen clatters onto the desk as she slowly lifts her gaze.

He’s there.

Jungkook.

Standing in the doorway like a dream that forgot how to stay gone.

His hoodie’s damp at the shoulders, rain catching in the curls of his hair. His shoes squeak softly on the floor. He looks the same, and not the same. Older somehow. Softer. Sadder. Like he’s been carrying something too big for too long.

“I didn’t think I’d find you here,” he says, a little breathless. “But I hoped.”

She blinks, slowly.

“I didn’t think you’d be looking.”

He takes a step closer, cautious.

“I wasn’t sure if I should. But I’ve been thinking about that night outside the 7-Eleven for three months straight. About everything I didn’t say. Everything I didn’t do.”

Her breath hitches. “Me too.”

He searches her face, then gestures to the empty reading corner in the back.

“Can we talk?”

She hesitates.

Then nods once, tightly.

“Yeah. We should.”

The reading nook is still her favorite place in the world. A small corner of comfort carved out between forgotten books and flickering yellow lamps. She brings him there, heart thudding like a drum inside her chest.

They sit on the floor. Not too close. Not too far. A quiet limbo between the past and whatever comes next.

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. She tugs her sleeves over her fingers and stares at the cracked spine of a poetry book on the shelf across from her.

“I’ve been running through this in my head,” he says softly. “Trying to figure out what to say. How to say it.”

She swallows. “Start anywhere.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t okay. That night. When you asked me. I lied.”

She stays still, but something in her chest pulls taut.

“I haven’t been okay since we… since it all fell apart,” he continues, voice shaking slightly. “I tried to be. I thought it’d pass. But it hasn’t. Not even for a second.”

Her lips part, but no sound comes out.

He looks at her now—really looks.

“I didn’t move on, Y/N. I went on dates, I smiled in interviews, I posted pictures with people who didn’t mean anything. But none of it stuck. Because no one was ever you.”

She blinks hard, eyes glassy.

“I didn’t want to hope,” she whispers. “I kept telling myself you were over it. That it was just me holding on.”

He shakes his head. “You weren’t alone.”

A breath.

“I still think about that night on the porch,” he says. “That kiss. The way everything felt so clear and terrifying all at once. I’ve replayed it more times than I can count.”

“I check the porch light,” she blurts, before she can stop herself. “Every time I visit home. I just… I look. I don’t even know what I’m hoping for.”

His throat works. “You’re hoping I’d still be there.”

She nods. “Yeah.”

And then, quietly—

“I was scared you’d forgotten.”

“Y/N,” he says, voice full of something raw. “I could never forget you. You’re in every lyric I never released. Every night I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes and go back to being seventeen.”

Her voice breaks. “You were it for me. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I didn’t know how to stay,” he admits. “And I hated myself for that.”

There’s silence.

Not empty silence.

Loaded silence.

And then she whispers: “I’m still in love with you.”

He exhales like she just opened every locked door inside him.

He inches closer, slowly.

“I never stopped.”

He leans in.

Not with urgency. Not with desperation.

With certainty.

Y/N’s breath catches as his hand rises—tenderly, reverently—to her cheek. She leans into it without thinking. It feels like gravity. Like instinct.

Their foreheads touch first. A soft exhale between them.

“This time,” she whispers, voice trembling, “don’t disappear.”

His thumb brushes under her eye. “I won’t. Not now. Not ever.”

And then—finally—they kiss.

It’s slow. Careful. Like flipping through a box of old photographs with trembling hands. Like trying not to ruin something fragile.

But it deepens quickly.

Because it’s not just a kiss.

It’s years of silence collapsing. It’s seventeen. It’s porch lights. It’s the way she smelled like jasmine and sugar in the summer. It’s every ‘what if’ finally answered.

Her hands slide into his hair. His other hand presses to the small of her back. They don’t rush it. They let it build. Let it breathe.

And when they pull back, they’re both trembling slightly.

He presses his forehead to hers.

“I missed you so much it made me sick,” she breathes.

“I never stopped loving you,” he says, chest rising hard. “Not even for a second.”

By the time they step outside, the rain has stopped.

The city feels reborn—wet asphalt gleaming, puddles catching reflections like mirrors, the scent of petrichor thick in the air. The world is quiet in the way only nighttime can be. Like it’s holding its breath.

Jungkook takes her hand, his fingers threading through hers like they never unlearned it.

They walk in silence until they reach the corner.

Y/N pauses. Looks up.

Between the power lines and buildings and light pollution, a handful of stars peek through the sky.

Faint. Flickering. But there.

“You see that?” he asks.

She nods slowly, her smile soft and small.

“I haven’t seen stars here in months.”

“I think it means something,” he says, eyes not leaving the sky.

She turns to him. “What?”

“That it’s not over.”

She watches him for a beat.

Then steps in close.

“It never really was.”

He cups her face again, slower this time, no hesitation.

And they kiss beneath the stars—quiet, full, knowing.

The city moves around them. But they are still.

Still seventeen.

Still in love.

Still here.

[snowseasonmademe]

Slow burn, Deep strokes

word count: 5,238

pairing: aurelien tchouameni x famous black female reader

warning ‼️: smut!!

summary: your little “meaningless flirting” game doesn’t go over well with aurélien

tag list: @sucredreamer @irishmanwhore @dexastres @coffeevacation @goldenngt @btslover117 @kennaskorner

@leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

@jessnotwiththemess @thepointlessideas

@amirawrah

note: ahhhh it’s great to be back with an aurelien smut. back to my root, yes gaaawwwdddd! a little makeup sex ;) i had sooo much fun writing this and i hope you love it just as much as i do. thank you to the anon that requested this. as always, enjoy and tell ‘em what you think❤️‍🔥!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

YSL Fall/Winter 2025, Paris.

The air outside the venue buzzed with electricity, camera flashes like lightning against the night. You stepped out of the black SUV like it was your runway. You didn’t need a red carpet—your presence turned concrete into velvet. Black 30 inch middle part bussdown laid like silk, body hugged by a custom YSL matching three peice set. A vision.

And right next to you? Your man. Aurélien in custom Yves Saint Laurent: smooth black turtleneck, tailored overcoat, strong shoulders, glinting chain peeking from under his collar. He looked like wealth and warning.

Together, you were art.

You clutched his hand, confident in your stride, soaking up the attention as you made your way into the venue. Front row seats, of course—nothing less.

You slid into your seat, legs crossed, fingers grazing the inside of Aurélien’s wrist. His head tilted toward you, dark eyes dragging down your figure like he was memorizing every inch.

“You look so sexy tonight bébé” he murmured, voice a low curl of smoke in your ear.

You turned to him with a slow, smug smile. “You make this outfit illegal. We should’ve just stayed home”

The corners of his mouth curved upward, but his gaze stayed trained on you—watching, simmering. You turned your attention back toward the aisle, grinning to yourself. You were feeling bold tonight. Flirty. Teasing.

Every person who came to greet you got a dose of charm. Your compliments were slick and sweet, and your eyes sparkled just a little more than usual. A well-known model greeted you with a soft “Hey beautiful” and you replied with a slow up-and-down gaze and a sly, “You’re lucky I’m taken.”

Aurélien chuckled once under his breath. “You’re in a mood”

“I’m always in a mood” you purred, brushing your nails down his thigh. “And you love it”

He did. But tonight, that mood was running hot enough to stir the air.

Then he appeared.

“Damson!” you exclaimed, eyes widening as your good friend strode toward you.

Damson Idris. Actor. Trouble. One of your favorite people in the industry—charming, familiar, and someone who always made you feel seen. You’d worked with him before—just a couple episodes on Snowfall, but the bond had clicked instantly. The playful banter, the creative chemistry, the late-night rehearsals with wine and playlists. You kept in touch here and there, a few DMs, liking each other’s stories, the occasional FaceTime. But it had been months since you’d seen him in person.

You stood up before he even reached your row, arms already out. He pulled you into a tight hug, scent warm and familiar. You curled your arms around his shoulders, letting your hand linger a little on his bicep as you squeezed. “I’ve missed your fine ass” you said under your breath, teasingly.

He laughed against your ear. “Still got the slick mouth, huh?”

You both pulled back with matching grins, giving each other a cheek kiss.

Then you remembered your man. You turned, still holding Damson’s arm, and reached for Aurélien’s hand.

“Come here baby, this is Damson” you said sweetly, almost too sweet.

Then to Damson: “Damson, this is my man, Aurélien.”

The handshake was firm. Respectful. But heavy with unspoken weight.

Aurélien didn’t like men who stood too close. Damson didn’t like men who got defensive too quick. And you? You just stood there smiling like nothing was amiss, your hand still on Damson’s arm, the other laced with Aurélien’s.

All three of you sat. You in the middle. Aurélien shifted closer to your left. Possessive.

You placed a calming hand on his knee, still smiling.

But the real show hadn’t even started yet.

You leaned toward Damson during the first walk. Whispered about the velvet coats. Complimented the men’s loafers. Your knees brushed. He made you laugh a few times—those inside jokes still hit. You touched his wrist once, just a friendly little nudge.

You didn’t think it was that serious.

But Aurélien noticed everything.

“I really like Damson’s shirt” you said, your voice light, looking over at your man. “It would look so good on you baby.”

That was it.

No words from Aurélien. No expression. Just stillness.

He didn’t speak to you for the rest of the show. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t nod. Just watched the models walk like it was any other night. Cold.

When the final walk happened and the house lights came up, you hugged Damson goodbye, promising to catch up soon. Then you turned back to Aurélien.

“Are you ready to g—?”

But he had already grabbed your hand, firm, not rough, but tight. He led you toward the exit with purpose, not aggression—controlled, composed.

Outside, before you could reach the car, a familiar voice called out.

“Hey gorgeous”

You turned to see Devin Booker approaching, hands in his pockets, smile boyish and soft. Longtime friend. Another one who always gave you light.

You greeted him warmly, the way you always had. “Did you get a new skincare routine or something? Your skin is glowing Dev.”

He laughed low. “Stop playing. I’m always glowing like this.”

Behind you, Aurélien’s hand moved from your waist to the curve of your ass, grip steady.

Devin gave him a nod. “Saw your goal the other day. You did your thing, bro.”

Aurélien replied without a flicker. “ Preciate it.”

You said your goodbyes and barely made it five steps before Aurélien was pulling you toward the car again. You looked down at your intertwined hands—his grip was tighter than usual.

“You don’t have to squeeze my hand like that.”

No answer.

Just the sound of your heels clicking along the sidewalk.

When you reached the car, he opened the door for you, stepping aside without meeting your eyes.

You stood in front of it, unmoving.

“What the hell are you mad about right now?”

Still no response.

“Hello??......Aurélien?........Baby—”

“In the car”

His voice was dry. Still. Like water right before it boils.

You blinked.

The look he gave you—calm, unreadable, a quiet warning. You knew that look. The one that said, Push me again, and you’ll find out.

You didn’t argue. You slid into the passenger seat with a shaky sigh, pulled your seatbelt across your chest, and turned your face to the window.

And then the silence grew thick.

He didn’t start the engine with a growl. No sharp turns. No speeding. No dramatic tension.

Just a slow, easy roll onto the road.

He drove like he had nowhere to be. One hand on the wheel, the other on the gearshift. His knuckles calm. Not tense. Not flexed.

The kind of stillness that comes from restraint, not peace.

No music.

No thigh touches.

No usual post-show analysis. Nothing.

He didn’t even glance at you.

And that scared you more than yelling ever could.

The soft click of the gear shift into park was the loudest sound either of you had heard in the last thirty minutes.

No music.

No talking.

Just the eerie stillness of the drive home.

Aurélien hadn’t looked at you once the whole way. Not a glance at your thighs crossed beside him. Not a hand drifting to your leg like usual. He didn’t even ask if you wanted food, which he always did—whether you were full or not. That kind of silence from him wasn’t loud—it was surgical. Measured. It was intention.

He drove like he had nowhere to be, like every red light was a meditation session. No sharp turns. No deep sighs or wheel gripping. Just one hand steady at 10 o’clock, the other resting on his thigh, his eyes calm but unreadable as they watched the road.

And that made it worse.

The way he wasn’t showing his hand.

Wasn’t raising his voice.

Wasn’t giving you anything.

It was eating you alive.

You sat in the passenger seat, stiff and trying not to fidget, your fresh hair swaying every time you turned your head toward him. But he didn’t bite. Not once.

When he finally pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine, he didn’t immediately hop out. He just sat there for a moment, hand still on the wheel like he was winding down from something… or preparing to start something.

Then he moved. Slowly. Calmly.

He stepped out of the car, his tailored YSL pants hugging his thighs just right as he rounded the vehicle. You swallowed. Every step he took felt like a countdown. Not to an explosion—but to a reckoning.

He opened your door and extended his hand, and though you wanted to keep up the attitude, you slipped your hand into his too fast, drawn to the warmth and quiet dominance of his touch. He helped you out with that same effortless grace he always had, but tonight, it wasn’t affectionate. It was possessive.

Still no words.

Inside, he let you enter first and followed behind without so much as a glance. His pace didn’t change. His energy didn’t spike. He didn’t drop his keys angrily on the counter or throw off his jacket. No.

He walked past you, pulled off his watch with silent precision, then made his way into the living room and sank into the couch like a man settling into control.

You watched him like he was a stranger. Mouth parted. Brow furrowed.

What the hell kind of crime did you commit to get this kind of response from Captain Tchouaméni?

He was cooler than when he got benched. Cooler than when a ref gave him a red card. And that scared you more than yelling ever could.

You followed, standing just outside the living room, arms crossed tightly under your chest.

He looked… too relaxed. Legs wide, arm draped across the back of the couch, like he was lounging after a long day. His face, though—that was where the fire sat. Not blazing. Not wild. Controlled.

You stepped closer.

“What the hell was that about?” you asked, sharp with attitude but laced with confusion.

He didn’t blink. “I should be asking you that.”

You scoffed lightly, trying to stay grounded. “Aurélien, what are you talking about?”

Then came the tap on his thigh. That silent demand.

“Come here.”

The way he said it was quiet. Casual. Like he wasn’t asking. Like you were already going to obey.

And you did. You walked slowly, pretending to be unaffected, pretending your thighs weren’t pressing together with every step. You sat across his right thigh, back straight, gaze fixed forward like you were watching a commercial break.

But you could feel his eyes piercing into the side of your face.

“You want to play games?” he said, low and even, his fingers sliding up to your jaw. “We can play games.”

He turned your head to the left gently but without room to resist. You were eye to eye now, and the look on his face? Calm. Focused. Like a man who had already decided how this would end.

You swallowed hard. His thigh beneath you was too relaxed. Too steady. And that told you everything.

“Ugh, are you mad at me for some meaningless flirting, Aurélien? Seriously?” you bit out, trying to reclaim the upper hand.

“I didn’t say that” he said, jaw tightening just slightly, eyes still on yours. That stare? It was so sharp it felt like he was peeling the truth off you.

Shit.

You stiffened. You had just told on yourself.

“O-okay well… what do you want me to say? I was just playing. It’s fine.” Your voice dropped into something softer. Less sure. He could feel the shift. You could feel it too.

His hand slid up your back, warm and firm. Then he wrapped it around the back of your neck, just tight enough to steal your breath. He pulled you an inch closer, his voice low, heat curling off every word.

“You love to play” he murmured. “Why don’t we play together, hm?”

You rolled your eyes, growing irritated, even though your thighs were already tightening from the tension.

“Aurélien, I’m not about to play stupid games with you right now. Come on.”

You made a move to stand, shifting your weight and placing your hand on his other leg in front of you for leverage. But he didn’t budge. Instead, his grip locked around you, holding you firm in place—one large, warm palm spreading over your thigh, fingers curling into the flesh possessively. His other hand stayed at the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair, applying just enough pressure to make you remember who was in control.

You stilled.

“No?” he said, voice like smooth velvet stretched over fire. “You’ve already been playing this whole time.”

Then his head moved forward, and his lips—full, soft, but commanding—pressed against your neck.

The first kiss was featherlight. Teasing.

The second… slower. Wetter.

He kissed like he was unwrapping you. Not with lust alone, but with intention. With memory. His thick tongue made slow, deliberate strokes up the curve of your neck, the kind that left a warm trail even after he pulled away. Your breath caught in your throat.

You tried to hold on to your frustration. Tried to stay sharp. “Are we gonna talk about this or—”

“Shhhh.” His interruption was low and gentle, but it silenced you completely. “Enough talking. You got yourself into enough trouble”

The finality in his voice made your stomach flutter. You swallowed hard.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. You were just trying to breathe evenly now, trying to resist the way his lips and tongue made your body ache. He continued moving, mouth painting slow circles into your skin as if he had all night.

“Aurélien…” you whispered, your hips beginning to move instinctively, rolling in subtle circles against his thigh. You felt the muscle tense beneath you—just slightly—but he didn’t stop.

“No talking, I said”

He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t shift in tone. But something about the calm way he said it made you freeze. You obeyed. Your chest rose and fell faster as you realized what kind of night this would be.

Oh, he’s serious, you thought, pulse fluttering in your throat.

And then he moved.

With maddening slowness, he shifted you off his lap. You didn’t even notice the transition until your back was against the couch cushions, and he was hovering above you—those deep, intense eyes studying your body like it was something to be solved.

And then… he started undressing you.

One. Piece. At. A. Time.

First, your jacket.

He peeled it away like he was revealing something sacred. When your arms were free, he took your hands in his, brought them to his lips, and kissed your knuckles, your palms, your wrists—his breath warming your skin in the most delicate way. Then he traced his mouth up your arms, over your shoulders, and across your collarbones. Slow. Methodical.

Then your shoes.

He slid down to the edge of the couch, unbuckling each strap as if it mattered, and placed your heels neatly to the side. Then he lifted your foot gently into his hand, kissing the arch, the top, the ankle. Worshipping. Devouring.

You were already starting to tremble.

Next, your pants.

He looked at you the entire time, never breaking the tension. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled them down, inch by inch. Your breath hitched when his knuckles brushed your thighs. Once they were gone, his mouth replaced them—sinking into the soft, thick flesh of your inner thighs. He kissed, licked, and gently bit, leaving no part untouched. Then he reached your panties.

He didn’t move them. Didn’t pull them aside.

He just kissed over them. Soft, deliberate pressure against your heat.

You gasped, your hips twitching upward. His hands pinned them down.

Last, your top.

He sat back, tugging the fabric up your torso, watching every inch of skin appear. When your top was fully gone, he leaned in again. He kissed your stomach, your ribs, your waist. He pressed his mouth to your lower abdomen, slow and possessive. When he reached your breasts, he didn’t touch. He hovered, let his breath drag across your nipples, and then pulled back to watch you squirm.

Your whole body was buzzing.

And then—he stood up.

It took everything in you not to beg.

He began undressing himself, just as torturously slow. Untying his shoes with perfect control. Removing his tailored black jacket and revealing the fitted turtleneck beneath, snug across his chest and arms. Your eyes were glued to his biceps, thick and veiny, flexing slightly as he adjusted the sleeves.

He rolled them up to his elbows. Slowly. You licked your lips without meaning to.

Then the belt.

He unbuckled it with one hand, each sound echoing in the silence. Then the zipper. You sucked in a sharp breath. When he pushed his pants down, your eyes dropped to his thighs—powerful and thick, every step of muscle flexing as he shifted his stance.

He stood there in just his grey briefs.

Already hard.

Your mouth watered. You clenched your thighs together, desperate for friction, for him—anything.

And then finally, he pulled them down.

He let them fall, exposing every hard, beautiful inch of himself to you. Full, heavy, throbbing. Your eyes locked there, a tremble spreading across your legs.

But he didn’t step forward. He didn’t move.

He just stood there. Letting you see him. Letting the weight of anticipation grow unbearable.

Because somehow, you knew—

It wouldn’t be that easy.

He came back to you like he never meant to leave, his tall frame casting a slow-moving shadow as he leaned over, wrapping your legs around his waist. His skin was warm, flushed, his body heavy with tension and hunger he refused to release. You could feel the full weight of his dick pressed against your lower stomach, thick and pulsing, a dark promise he still wouldn’t deliver on. It was maddening.

His kiss felt like a curse—like it carried a spell meant to make you forget how to breathe. He moved with excruciating control, soft lips dragging over yours, deep and slow, as if he wanted you to feel every millimeter of contact. No urgency. Just tension and the taste of punishment.

He touched your thighs like they were made of velvet—squeezing, stroking, dragging his palms up and down with reverence and control. Every movement was thought out. Intentional. He was worshipping you… while withholding you.

You arched your back instinctively, trying to grind against him, hoping for just the slightest hint of friction—but he shifted his hips and pressed his full weight into you, anchoring you down into the couch cushions. His restraint was terrifying. Sexy. Cruel.

“No. Stay still” he said, low and sharp, like a warning wrapped in honey.

Then he dipped back into your neck, mouth warm and open, tongue slow and wet, tasting you like you were his last meal. The pace. The pressure. The way he lingered. He was savoring you.

“But baby please—” you begged, voice small, broken by need.

He cut you off without even looking up. “No. Talking. Do I need to make you be quiet?”

The cold authority in his voice sent a shiver up your spine. You blinked, speechless, throat dry. All you could do was reach for him, pulling him back into your mouth, letting him kiss you again, needing to feel some part of him where he allowed it.

He didn’t stop. He was everywhere now—his mouth branding your neck with hickeys that felt like bruised memories, raw and fresh. Each one more possessive than the last. Your mind briefly flashed to the press run you were starting in two days. Hair. Makeup. Stylist. Publicist. All of them asking how you were going to hide the evidence of the man who was fucking you like his heart would stop if he didn’t.

You tried to keep quiet, but your breath betrayed you—coming out in short, high-pitched moans, shivering through your throat. You could feel the wetness dripping down between your legs, soaking through to the cushion. It was humiliating, how much he could make you need him without even being inside you.

Then, like he was done playing with his food, he flipped you over effortlessly, and you found yourself facedown, ass arched for him. He didn’t say a word. Just looked. You could feel his eyes on you, dragging heat up your spine.

He pressed one hand to the back of your neck, the other gripping both your wrists together like he was locking you into place. You could barely move. Barely breathe.

You expected him to take you. Ravish you. Finally give in.

But instead… you felt the heavy, teasing slide of his tip running through your folds, slow and slick. He dragged it up and down, letting it graze over your clit, circling your entrance, never entering.

It was unbearable. You whimpered.

“You want it, bébé? Take it. Go ahead and take it.”

You blinked. Was he serious?

You pushed your hips back, trying to line him up, trying to take it—and just when you thought you had him, he moved his hips back. Taunting. Laughing silently.

“Ah, not quite. Try again.”

Your eyes stung with frustrated tears. You clenched your fists. If he wasn’t holding you down, you might’ve flipped over and cursed him out. But instead, you tried again. Pushed back harder. Still missed. Another denied entry.

He chuckled low in his throat. A breathy, cruel little sound.

“You can do it. Try again. You want it, so take it.”

Your heart was pounding. You were overheating. Dripping. Shaking. You took a deep breath, exhaled sharply, and threw your hips back with more force—and this time… finally… he let you take him.

“Auuhhhh shit” he moaned behind you, his voice rough and desperate, like he hadn’t expected how good it would feel either. That sound made your walls clench tight around him, welcoming him home.

You moaned, too. Loud and messy. The sound of him sliding in echoed—slick, obscene. You were soaked, stretched, filled. Every nerve ending lit up.

And then he started to move—slow. So goddamn slow.

There was no slamming, no pounding. Just deep, luxurious strokes that made you feel every inch of him.

He leaned down, his lips right by your ear.

“Putain. Si humide pour moi. Est-ce que Damson se sent si bien ?” (Fuck. So wet for me. Does Damson feel this good?)

You froze. Every part of you went still, trembling.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The question punched the air out of you.

He stopped. Entirely.

“When I ask a question, you answer.”

The silence stretched until you finally forced the words out.

“I don’t know how Damson feels, Aurélien. Please just keep going.”

His grip on your wrists tightened. His other hand curled harder around the back of your neck.

“You were acting like you know exactly how he feels” he murmured, his tone chilling even as his hips began to move again—slow, even slower than before.

Every word, every stroke, was punishment. And you loved it.

He let go of your wrists slowly, with a kind of terrifying calm, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you. Your arms dropped limply against the couch, trembling, weak from restraint and overstimulation. But he wasn’t done—not even close.

His grip shifted—one hand wrapped firm and possessive around your neck, thumb resting just beneath your jaw while his other hand dropped to your hip. He grabbed it like he owned it. Like it was his hip. His body. His to take.

Then he pulled you back into him with a brutal snap of his hips.

Faster.

Harder.

Louder.

There was no buildup this time. He went straight to punishment. And it felt so good you almost blacked out. The lewd sound of his hips slamming into your soaked, swollen core echoed through the living room like music made of sin. Your mouth dropped open, the couch cushions catching your desperate moans as you gripped at anything—his thigh, the cushion, your own flesh.

“I— I’m sorry, baby—fuck—I’m sorry, please—oh my god—” you gasped between every deep thrust.

“Don’t apologize now” he snapped. His voice was low, like a growl coming from somewhere deep in his chest. You could feel it vibrate against your back when he leaned in, fucking you so deeply you saw stars behind your eyes.

You screamed into the couch, body writhing from the inside out. You were moaning, crying, gasping—completely undone. Then suddenly, just like that, the rhythm shifted. Slowed. Slowed way down.

You cried out in pure frustration. The loss of that brutal pace felt like physical pain. His dick still filled you to the brim, but now it moved achingly slow, grinding with such teasing softness that it felt like he was mocking your desperation.

“No—no no no, baby don’t do this, please” you whimpered, your face damp with sweat and tears. “I need you so bad.”

But he didn’t give in. He wasn’t done toying with you yet.

“What about Devin, hm?” he murmured right into your ear. His voice was silk-wrapped steel. Cruel in how soft it was. “You don’t need him?”

The mention of another man’s name from his lips, at a moment like this, made you feel completely raw. You could barely speak.

“No, Aurélien” you choked. “I don’t need him. I need you. Only you. Please.”

His breath hitched behind you. He liked hearing it. Needed it.

“You need me” he repeated slowly, savoring every word like a sweet piece of fruit.

Then the snap.

His hips collided with your ass again, and again, and again. Hard. He was back to that punishing pace, but somehow deeper this time. Wilder.

“Yes—ahhhh—I need you!” you moaned, louder, more open, more desperate.

“That’s right. You need me. Remember that shit.” His voice was strained now, laced with pleasure, his hands anchoring you in place while his thick dick dragged in and out of you, perfectly hitting every swollen nerve inside your walls.

You were wrecked.

The wet, sticky sounds of your bodies filled the air—filthy, obscene. His hips slapped against your ass like waves crashing against the shore. Your legs couldn’t hold your body up anymore, but it didn’t matter—he was doing all the work, gripping your hips tighter and dragging you back onto him with perfect, relentless control.

His strokes got longer. Still hard, still just as deep. You weren’t thinking. Not about Damson. Not about Devin. Not about your hair, your image, your press tour. The only thing in the world was how deep Aurélien was inside your guts.

Then he collapsed over you, body pressing you flat against the couch. His chest against your back. His skin sticky and warm. His moans right in your ear. You could feel his abs flex and roll with every grind of his hips. His weight—solid, hot, heavy—felt like a blanket you never wanted to crawl out from under.

You pushed your ass back, trying to feel more, needing all of him.

“You want me to cum in this pussy bébé?” he whispered into your ear, voice rough, thick with lust.

“Yes baby” you cried. “It’s yours. Cum inside me.”

One final, deep, soul-shattering thrust—and he was there. You could feel it. His release flooding into you, hot and thick, painting your insides in wave after wave as he groaned your name into your neck.

You came with him. Hard. Violently. Your whole body shook like an earthquake, moans raw and broken. You didn’t even realize you were crying again until his lips kissed your shoulder.

He stayed deep inside you. Kept moving. Kept fucking you through your orgasm until the aftershocks made your toes curl and your brain go blank.

He didn’t just fill you.

He claimed you.

You couldn’t hear.

You couldn’t see.

You could only feel.

The room around you was blurred into silence. Your ears were ringing faintly, like you’d just come up from underwater. Your eyes fluttered open and closed, lashes sticking together from sweat. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was the body above you. The man still wrapped around you like a blanket of heat and muscle and dominance.

Aurélien’s lingering moans vibrated through his chest, pressed against your back. You could feel the way his voice rumbled in your bones. It was like he was still inside you in more ways than one. His hips were flush against your ass, barely twitching as aftershocks rolled through both of you.

His lips moved slowly over your temple—kissing, not just touching. Full, plush lips planting small, hot promises into your skin. You could taste salt on your lips, unsure whether it was your own sweat or his.

Then his body shifted.

His weight lifted off your back inch by inch, peeling away like a warm, weighted blanket. You immediately missed the pressure, the fullness, the suffocating closeness that had held you together through all that pleasure. Cool air licked at your damp skin, making you shiver even in the heat of the room.

His big hands slid back down to your hips.

Firm. Possessive. Gentle now, but still in control. His fingertips flexed as he held you steady and slowly pulled out of you. You gasped—your body clenched in protest at the loss. But even that couldn’t prepare you for the next sensation.

His cum.

Spilling out of you.

Warm and thick, it leaked down your thighs in heavy drips, slow and sticky like maple syrup sliding down the bark of a tree. You twitched with each droplet, your oversensitive core pulsing as his release oozed from your swollen folds.

You barely had time to whimper before you felt him again. Not inside, not commanding—but there. His arms wrapped around you like a balm. Solid and grounding. He pulled you in so close, your cheek met his slick chest. His heart was still beating like a war drum under your ear, but softer now, fading.

You hummed. You couldn’t help it. The vibration of your contentment made his arms tighten around you in response, like he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

This embrace was different.

No tension.

No heat.

Just warmth.

Like he needed you close as much as you needed him.

You melted into him, fully limp, legs trembling with aftershocks and thighs still sticky with the mess he made of you. Your breath slowly synced with his. His fingertips traced random patterns along your spine—up your back, over your shoulder blades, across the curve of your waist. Like he was still learning your body, even after owning it completely.

The couch was a mess—pillows thrown, cushions damp, the scent of sex thick in the air—but you didn’t care. You were wrapped in his arms. Safe. Loved. Fucked out and satisfied in a way that felt like more than just physical.

Aurélien’s lips brushed against your hair again.

“No more of that” he murmured, low and gravelly. “I won’t be so nice next time.”

The words rolled down your spine like thunder.

You knew he was serious. That wasn’t a threat—it was a promise. Next time, there wouldn’t be any teasing. No patience. No letting you off the hook.

And honestly?

You’d worry about that tomorrow.

For now, you just exhaled, let your body melt into his, and let the night hold you both still.

[selfloverrrrrr]

Gurl i love your yandere jjk fics ❤️❤️can you maybe do a noncon/babytrap with megumi or yuta?

Both won't be that bad~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference, Yandere, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

I'm a student of jujutsu high Tokyo. I'm a first year.... in grade four. Gojo satoru is the one who took the responsibility to make me understand my cursed energy and how to use it. Cause I can't use it properly. So we're best friends... Me, Yuji, Megumi and Nobara. The second year students are also good friends with me. I trust them too.

It was just a normal day at school. It was raining so heavily. I didn't brought umbrella with me. I was late for returning to the droom because of some work. Every students left. I was the one. I was standing in the front door of jujutsu high. Suddenly heard a voice "hey y/n... you need help?" The voice said. I looked at my side. It was Megumi. "Oh... actually I forgot my umbrella today" I replied. "We did too" another voice said. I looked at other side and it was Yuta.

" but we have to go you know... cause it's almost the droom closing time" Megumi said. " OMG really?" I asked. " Yeah... and we have to go without the umbrella you know " Yuta replied. "Then I have to go without umbrella too" I said. Then three of us went out of the school.

We just reached the droom. We were infront of my room. We all were drenched in water. "Thank you guys for coming with me" I said to them. Then I turned around to unlock the door. My dress and specially my skirt was sticking with my body. They started at my ass when I was unlocking the door. When I unlocked the door they both looked at each other and pushed me inside and locked the door.

I looked at them confusedly. " Y/n...sit on the bed and do whatever we want you to do" Yuta said. My body automatically did what Yuta said. I was confused then I saw Yuta copied inumaki's technique. No no no.... that's bad.... it's bad!!!

They both came towards me. Suddenly Megumi took off my skirt. "W-what are you doing" I spoke. "Spread your legs" Yuta said. My legs automatically spread. I looked away with shame. I don't know why is this happening.... Why are they doing it. They were too fast. I didn't even noticed when they took off my and their clothes.

"get on your four" Yuta said and my body did. "Please I don't want this" I said. Megumi stand infront of me and Yuta stand behind me. " now be a good girl and give Megumi a blow job" Yuta continued " Do. It." He said. I squeezed my eyes. Tears flowing down. I opened my mouth shakingly and took Megumi's dick inside my mouth taking the whole length in slowly. It was too big. Megumi's breath hitched. He threw his head back mouth wide open. I slowly sucked his dick and his legs shook. I bobbed my head up and down. His tip was poking the back of my throat. He grabbed my hair and started bobbing my head up and down faster. "Oh god...oh god.... don't...ahhhh... don't stop!!!!" Megumi moaned out loudly. He was bobbing my head up and down faster and faster. He suddenly felt that Megumi was close. In a few minutes he came inside my mouth. He grabbed my chin "Yuta senpai....tell her to swallow" Megumi said. "Swallow it y/n" Yuta said. I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed Megumi's cum.

Yuta flipped me over. Then he lined himself with my entrance. Yuta pushed his whole length in one slide and I scremed with pain. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. I was screming loudly. His huge dick was giving me too much pain. He started giving me hickeys on my neck and chest. His thursting getting faster and harder. My whole body was shaking. He was moaning too. The way his dick was touching my g-spot make my back arch. It didn't take much time and I came. As I came that smirk again played on his lips.

I felt his dick started throbbing inside me. " Senpai please...not....not inside" I begged in a whisper because I didn't have the power to speak. It was too much for me. When my warm walls clenched around him he moaned loudly. In a few minutes he came inside me. He slowly pull out.

They both came towards me. Yuta stroked my hair and Megumi cupped my face. "Don't worry y/n we'll protect you and love you... We both loved you so much. Then we thought why don't we both have you.... We'll love you and now... you are ours" they whispered in my ear.

Ik it was a short story...but I was running out of ideas...lol💀 I'm sorry...but I'll post like this more...and not gonna make those this short

Give me your requests guys...

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 11 (In Heat)

Asgore x Male!reader

You honestly blame the others for this.

How come no one warned you that Asgore was susceptible to going into heat? Looking back at it now, Undyne laughing at you, when you mentioned how extra touchy Asgore was acting this month, was probably your only heads-up.

You were hoping to get some practice baking in today, but you honestly suck ass at it. There was flour everywhere, some egg on the floor, and even some batter in your hair. So when Asgore walked in, you were hoping to get some help...not dick.

You guess seeing you bake really did it for him. He hugged you from behind as he muttered how cute you looked. You thought he was being his regular cute self until you felt him harden against your ass.

You swear you'll get the others for this. But for now, you have a large horny goat man to deal with.

"Hnnng!" You groaned softly, feeling the warmth of Asgore's body pressing against you. The goat man's hands moved over your shoulders, squeezing gently as he helped guide you through baking. His large furry hands were on yours as he helped you knead the dough.

"Mmm..." Asgore hummed lowly in agreement, leaning down to place a kiss on the base of your neck. His breath was hot against sensitive skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your flesh.

"Yes, yes," he murmured approvingly, "that's it. Just like that."

You tried to focus on the task at hand, but the sensation of being filled by Asgore's thick cock made it difficult to concentrate. Every time he shifted slightly, sending ripples of pleasure through your core.

Asgore leaned over you to pick up the bowl of chocolate chips, causing his cock to slide deeper inside you. You gasped at the sudden thrust, nearly losing your balance as your knees became jelly. His furry arm wrapped around your waist, holding you steady.

The goat man chuckled quietly, a low rumble in his throat that sent shivers down your spine. "Sorry," he murmured, leaning in closer to nuzzle your neck with his wet nose. "Didn't mean to surprise you like that."

You try to shake off your lightheadedness as you focus on the task. "It's okay," you managed to say between shallow breaths. You were determined to push through and make this damn choco-bread.

At some point, Asgore stopped helping.

Asgore's movements grew slower as he gave in to the heat. His heavy breathing mixed with yours, creating a steamy atmosphere around the both of you. With every lazy thrust, he pushed further inside, claiming your hole for himself.

You could feel yourself develop a new kink. Despite the mess, this was pretty fun. It was almost like a game to see if you could handle doing this mundane task while being fucked.

Asgoore's strong arms wrapped securely around your waist, holding onto you like you were his entire world. The goat man rested his chin on your head as his tongued lolled out of his mouth.

"Ahhhh...," he whimpered, thrusting harder yet again. "So good...my sweet boy..."

He moaned and grunted, his voice growing rougher with each passing moment. Tiny droplets of saliva dripped from his bottom lip, landing on your head.

He was definitely drunk off a mixture of his heat and your body.

"Please...," he pleaded desperately. "More...I need...more."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he buried his face in the back of your neck. He wrapped his arms around you as if he thought you would disappear if he stopped fucking you

"Pregnant..." he chanted hoarsely, each syllable punctuated by a lazy thrust. His hands gripped your hips possessively, leaving bruises in their wake. "Get pregnant...get pregnant...".

"Pregnant, please," he whispered hoarsely between ragged breaths. "Become pregnant...with my child...oh god..."

Each thrust drove the message home; he wanted you to give him a child despite you being male. But you couldn't help but wonder how flustered he'll be when you tell him about this once he's clear-headed. You groan and push the mixing bowl aside.

Baking can wait.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[cyber-mari]

suamizi doomed yuri fic now ✌️ pronto! asap!

“if you would let me give you pinky promise kisses.”

contents; gut wrenching mizisua angst , mizi and sua are in a established relationship before sua’s death , this is kinda buns

a/n; first alnst request ahhhh!!! i hope this is to your standards oomf! i don’t usually write for ships but all my homies love mizisua so might as well

Mizi feels like she’s drowning.

She physically can’t stop sobbing. Hyperventilating, Mizi buries her head into the palms of her trembling hands, wiping tears in a desperate, futile attempt to calm herself just for more to flow out. Even Shine couldn’t do anything to help. This was the most upset she’d seen her in a long time.

She tries to imagine Sua next to her in an attempt to calm down. She used to bury her head into her chest whenever she got upset. Even if it was something trivial, Sua would gingerly run her hands through her baby pink strands in an effort to soothe her, murmuring soft reassurances to her in the softest and most precious way. In Mizi’s eyes, Sua was sublime.

Through choked out sobs, Mizi babbles her name like a mantra, as if maybe the nth time she said it, Sua would suddenly come back. Come back to her and wrap her arms around her, telling her everything is okay. Yet, no matter how many times Mizi uttered her name, no one was there to answer her.

Why wouldn’t Sua tell her? For her own good? To protect her? She tries to understand as hard as she can, how she could see things from Sua’s point of view, but right now to her, it doesn’t matter why Sua left her. The fact is she did leave, and it’s tearing Mizi apart. It doesn’t matter what Sua’s reasons or motives were, the pain is still there, and there’s no simple way to get rid of it. She just wants her girlfriend back.

Her throat feels dry and raw from crying for so long. She slowly curls tighter into the same fetal position and hugs her pillow tight, her right arm subconsciously hugging herself, trying to simulate the feeling of Sua being there. But a part of Mizi knows it’s not her. It doesn't have the same warmth as Sua's body. It doesn't have the same sweet, comforting smell of vanilla Sua always had. No matter how hard she squeezes the pillow, it'll never come close to the real thing. Yet she still hopes.

With Sua still on her mind, her brain replays some of the best memories she had with her, which is basically all the time they spent in each other’s presence.

Memories of them playing around in the ANAKT GARDEN flood into her head. Mizi bringing the black-haired girl the flowers there, or vaguely heart-shaped rocks. Catching that odd-looking fish in the river and crying over it. Chasing each other in various games of tag, the feeling of the grass underfoot when she and Sua were running through it together. The feel of her girlfriend’s skin under her own when she’d hold her hand. The sound of her laugh earned by Mizi doing non-sensical things just to hear it once more. Mizi holding up her dress up to Sua, seeing how the cream-colored dress would look against her complexion.

As fatigue from her crying begins to take over her, Mizi slowly drifts off to sleep with the feeling of emptiness still heavy in her chest. Hoping, wishing, praying that when she wakes up, she’ll see that familiar face and hear that beautiful laugh of her love, right next to her.

[writingjourney]

Hey there! I’m not sure if you take requests, but I saw that others do and you are my favorite so far. 😅 I have some pretty nasty skinned up knees because I fell yesterday, totally embarrassing myself in front of a bunch of clients! I was wondering if you could write a short Copia/reader fic that would give me a way better story for my skinned knees. (Papa or Cardinal!) 😂

on your knees | papa emeritus iv x gn!reader

I can most certainly give you a more thrilling story for those skinned knees 👀 I chose Papa because who wouldn't like to fall to their knees for the antipope?

content: 1.3k words, gn!reader, alcohol mention, biting, semi-public blowjob, spit kink, choking mention, taint tickling, he gets whimpery, blood/minor injury, papas tight-ass pants

Masterlist – Ao3 link

You are both a little tipsy, the warm, giggly kind that has you clinging to each other as you stumble across the street. Copia’s arm is slung around your shoulder, gloved fingers spread over your upper arm in an attempt to keep you steady. You still feel all warm inside after your dinner date in town, the walk home taking you twice as long as you stop for needy kisses every few steps. By the time you reach the abbey’s courtyard, you’re both out of breath.

“Mhm, I want you so much, amore,” Copia whispers into your ear as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. His free hand slowly crawls from your hip to your ass where he squeezes the soft flesh appreciatively. Your fingers search for his but before you can link them together he grabs your hand and brings it to his crotch with a moan. “I’m so hard for you.”

You shudder at the feeling of his cock in your palm, only separated by the strained fabric of his pants that allows his heat to radiate into your skin. His lips trail from your cheekbone down to your jaw where he gently nibbles before pressing another wet kiss to your mouth.

“Be careful or I bite back,” you whisper as you break away, squeezing his cock until it jumps in your hand.

“Oh, do you, my little vampire?” His teeth graze your skin from your lips down to your chin where he bites down gently. “Care to show your Papa?”

“Mhm.”

You reach for his hand and pull him further along until you find a dark spot at the edge of the courtyard, the abbey’s high stone walls casting deep shadows over your bodies. Your shared giggles echo in the hollow between buildings as you both stumble over your uncoordinated limbs. Copia’s back crashes into the wall and takes you with it so fast that your knees give out. The momentum gives your drop more speed than anticipated and you connect with the cobblestone in a painful crunch.

“Ow, amore, your knees,” Copia exclaims, trying to pull you up again.

“‘m fine,” you say, shaking off his hand as well as the pain. “I’m just where I need to be.”

“Are you s– Ahhhh.”

His question is interrupted by you pressing your mouth to his cock, growling playfully as you bring it between your teeth. You close them just the tiniest bit, a kitten bite really, and Copia chuckles under his breath. One of his gloved hands strokes your hair, the other lovingly caressing your jaw. You nuzzle the tent in his pants for a moment, take in the smell of his arousal as you feel him twitching against your face. With practiced fingers you open his belt and zipper, a little more clumsily than usual in your tipsy excitement. After he forwent his underwear to fit into the tightest pants he owns, his semi-hard cock springs out immediately. Your mouth is watering at the sight, a needy throb vibrating through your lower body when you press your cheek to his length. The burning pain in your knees is pushed to the back of your mind as you look at your Papa through heavy eyelids, allowing him to admire you.

“Che bellezza,” he whispers, cradling your other cheek in his gloved hand. “Seeing you on your knees for your Papa, amore. Hold out your hand, sì?”

You do as he says, stretching your hand skyward. Copia’s tongue works inside of his painted cheeks, the black lines shifting back and forth before he spits into your palm.

“Go on,” he says. “Don’t tease.”

You look up at him, watching his expression darken as you spit into your hand as well. The tight lines on his face melt in pleasure as you wrap your fist around his cock, spreading your combined spit over his length and stroking him to full hardness. You press a gentle kiss to his tip, lapping up the pearls of precum that drip from his slit and onto your lips. At the contact he sighs, pushing his hand in your hair for a better hold on your head.

“Amore–” he warns. “I said no– ohhh.”

You fully wrap your lips around him, letting him slide in so deep that he chokes on his words when you hollow out your cheeks. His grip on your hair tightens until his tugs are almost painful and you blink up at him, watching his eyes roll back in his head. The corners of your mouth twitch at the sight. He’s already whimpering and moaning, always so needy, so eager for any warm hole he can get. You can feel his cock flexing as you gently cup his balls and give them more room over the tightness of his pants. When you slowly move your head back and forth, keeping your tongue pressed to the veiny underside of his cock, he shallowly rocks his hips to meet your rhythm. 

It doesn’t take a lot to turn him into a mess. You slide your fingers over his taint with gentle but persistent pressure and take him in as deep as you can. He keens when you swallow around him, pushing your head into his groin until you choke. Spit runs down the corners of your mouth and drips from his cock to your chin.

“So good,” he whispers. “So good, amore. K-keep going. ‘m so close, s-so close.”

He’s anything but quiet, not that you mind, as he continues to ramble in between moans. You only take a few seconds of respite to breathe before you suck at his tip, using your hand to pump the rest of him between spit-slick fingers. His hips buck involuntarily, fingers so tight in your hair that the lingering pain in your knees fades in contrast. All it takes is for you to moan around him and the vibrations push him over the edge. His cock is twitching helplessly as thick ropes of cum shoot into your mouth and trickle down your throat. 

Copia groans into the quiet vacuum of the night around you, his eyes glazed over in bliss as he gazes down at you. When he finds you staring at his slack-jawed face, he loosens his grip on your head. As soon as you know he’s watching, you swallow all that he had to give and lick him clean until he whimpers in overstimulation.

“Amore, cuore mio,” he whispers, wiping some of the spit and cum from the corners of your mouth before his thumb pushes between your lips. “You always make your Papa feel so good. So generous, my baby.”

You smile and lick his thumb clean, nibbling at it for a moment until he chuckles. You press a kiss to each of his knuckles, then, the leather soft and warm against your lips before you use his hand to slowly pull yourself up. Copia helps you and gently cradles you against his solid chest until you can properly stand on your own again. He leans in for a soft kiss to your mouth, his ragged exhales brushing over your face until your lips meet. In the meantime, you carefully tuck his softening dick back into his pants and zip them up.

“Now, let me see your knees,” he says and you step back on wobbly legs.

It still hurts like a bitch and you can feel the wetness of blood seeping into the ripped fabric at your joints, some leftover gravel stuck in the softer skin around it that you have to clean out. From the outside it looks half as bad, but you know that once your pants come off, the sight won’t be pleasant.

“We have to get you inside now and clean this, amore,” Copia says with with a pained expression on his face before he presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead. “And then I will make sure this was worth it, eh?”

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3

[bunnyboyjuice]

You tell him you’re too heavy

Synopsis: Nanami being your husband means he has to take care of you no matter what and that means even if you don’t yourself the way he sees you.

CW:Nanami x fem! reader - explicit content: minors DNI pussy eating,clitoral play, creampie ,mating press,fingering, nicknames (Angel,princess,sweetheart),mentions of weight gain

Authors Note: Writing this for my own good because Nanami has been in my thoughts and he’s clouding my mind also this is a Nanami x black reader

It was your date night with Nanami just a normal night as you did your make up adding your favorite lip combo on you were almost ready to go. You hummed softly to yourself walking over to your closet to pick out a dress you remembered that you put on a little weight since Nanami has been spoiling your everytime you both go to the bakery.

You pick out your favorite dress the one that Nanami likes the best. You slip into the dress and look at yourself in the mirror with a pout you look at yourself seeing your stomach poke put a little more than it usual does. You sighed as you tried to suck your stomach in or maybe change into a dress that didn’t show it as much. —KNOCK KNOCK— “Come in!” You mumble out as you turn and see Nanami. Your heart fluttering as you ogled him he always looked great in his suits no matter what.

“Angel we’re gonna be late if you don’t hurrying normally you’re ready by now.” Nanami face had a concerned look on it as he walked a bit closer to you. The heat in your face rising as you could only admire the man standing before you, your eyes only on him the butterflies in you stomach start to flutter, as you sigh. Nanami do you think I’m too heavy. God, your heart pounding in your ears the heart rising up to your face looking away from him to the mirror back to a second. “Do I think you’re what Angel.” “Too…heavy I saw that I gained a bit more weight… and I was nervous that I was becoming too heavy for you.”

Nanami could only let out a slight chuckle what you didn’t know that he was so infatuated with you he didn’t even notice it he could care less. Nanami came behind you kissing your neck as his voice dropped to a husky octave “Mmm but I think you look so good Angel let me show you how good you look to me.” Nanami said running his hand down your back snaking it under your dress to pull it up squeezing a hand against your plump ass. “Fuuck sweetheart look at you..what a pretty girl y/n.” He purrs making that wet spot in your panties grown more by the second.

He picks you up and hoisted you over his shoulder like you weight nothing walking you over to the bed as he chuckles to himself noticing how you still pout. “Not to heavy for me now huh,Angel?” He says with a sly grin plastered on his face as he lays you down on the bed his hand running down you stomach to the hem of your dress pulling it up to reveal your pretty laced panties. “All this is just for me sweetheart mmm.” He hisses pulling those panties off discarding them somewhere on the bed room floor.

“Mmphh…Ahhhh,Kento w-wait—Mmmngh! Nanami playing with your glistening folds his thick digits running small circles over your swollen clit, your sensitive bud being played causing you you to jolt. God,Nanami could always make you were the prettiest girl in the world.

The way his thick digits prods at your leaky entrance stuffing his pointer finger into your chasm sending a shiver up your spine. Another finger squeezing inside you gently scraping at your velvety walls. “Ouuh, oh goood, Kento.” Your eyes screwed shut as you grasp at Nanami’s wrist trying to slow him down. “Hmmm my pretty Angel,” he groaned,laying down kissing your inner thighs gently nibbling at your soft skin before planting a kiss to your southern lips.

Your soft whimpers and moans grow as his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt. His tongue eagerly attacking your clit the wet sounds and squelching of his fingers deep inside your gummy walls, his mouth latching to your pussy eating it like it was his last meal. “I’m gonna—mmmngh!!” Your legs quivering wrapping around Nanami’s head as his tongue is ravaging your clit and his fingers pumping in and out of you. Oh,this was heaven for you, you felt your body tremble a hoarse cry escaped from your pouty lips as you released your essences painting his face and your walls squeeze around his fingers.”Haaah..mmngh Kento,please.”

You look down at him your hooded glossy eyes gazing at him you feel yourself coming down from you high Nanami removed his face from between your thighs, he wipes his chin clean while gazing back down at you. “God you taste so good princess I can never get enough of you.” A deep chuckle escapes his lips while you look up at him undoing his belt watching his pants pool at his feet.

His erection pressing at boxers pre cum leaving a damp patch his finger snaking into his briefs pulling out his dick pumping the aching limb, your eyes trailing his manhood your mind racing with thoughts with your eyes glued to his thick limb. “Mmm it looks like you missed me,Angel?” God his voice was just making you wetter than ever Nanami starts to unbutton his blue button up discarding it as he reveal’s his tanned well built body to you.

He towers over you as he pushes your knees up to touch your chest with you legs now draped over his shoulders. Nanami gently rubs his dick between your folds as he pushes the tip of his dick between your plump pussy. “Angel take a deep breath for me it’s gonna hurt a little.” You follow his directions and take a few deep breaths as you felt him gently thrust into you. You could feel how perfect his fit inside you, your walls eagerly squeezing at his dick as all you could do is gasp and whimper underneath him and with one quick thrust his bottoms out filling you all the way up.

“M’..so full,you’re too big.” “You can do princess you’ve done it before.” He teases as you take all of his length you tremble and squirm underneath him feeling his cock pumping in and out at a slow pace driving you wild while you adjust to his size and length.

“I’m gonna move now.” His thrust beginning to pick up the pace your pussy still a bit sensitive from earlier sending you into a euphoric state as you grip at the sheets beneath you mewling and moaning trying not to come early. Nanami drilling into your gummy walls kissing your insides the thrust keep getting harder and harder as the moans you let out were something pornographic.

Your brain turning into mush as Nanami ruts into your cunt your insides grasping at his cock as he plows into your puffy wet pussy. “Haaah,mmmgh.Oh yes,yes,yeees…” the squelching noises growing louder by the second “Damn you feel so good y/n—Hnngh!” Nanami pressing himself into you his hips stuttering as you contract around him. Oh Lord the way Nanami was pounding into you made your mind go blank as all you could do was whimper and babble. And just like that Nanami came his length twitch filling you with his stick gooey seed as he chuckled looking down at you.

“See sweetheart I can show you better than I can tell you.” He says with ragged breath as he pants a kiss on your forehead.

God I need him so badly.

[breedingprincessjackie]

A Naruto pregnancy kink story:

Uchiha Fugaku, his wife, and Hyuuga Hiashi's wife spent some time together eight months ago...

They had really thought her infertile. 

Idiots and fools, all of them. 

The former wife of the Hyuuga clan head is anything but lacking in fertility 

Her swollen pregnant belly is heavy and round. It sticks out, a massive and obscene sphere, hanging from her torso. It heaves with each movement and holds up her voluptuous breasts. Veiny and soft and full of milk; they're Mikoto's favorite 

She takes a thick brown nipple into her mouth and sucks. She grinds her own wet pussy against the thick thigh beneath her. Fugaku revels in watching his wife’s nimble fingers thrust into what was once Hyuuga Hiashi's wife. Her swollen pregnant pussy gushes ready to be filled more. 

That mountain of flesh, He'd done that to her. The swollen mound enveloping her curvaceous body is because he knocked her up so good. 

Hiashi couldn't, but he did.

Nearly, Eight months ago, although it feels longer. When Mikoto had told him of her attraction and flirtatiousness, were became less and less innocent.

She looks bigger than Mikoto had with either Itachi or Sasuke.

It fills Fugaku with immense pride.

Those are his active babies growing bigger inside her. Her womb is stuffed with not one, not two but---four. He put four children into the Hyuuga clan head’s former wife.

“Please fill me with your cock! Please, I need it again!” 

She doesn't need to beg, not when she looks like that. 

He grabs her by her massive womb and thrusts inside. It’s as tight as a drum, and her body accommodates beautifully. Her pussy is still tight, already slick, and so warm. His hard cock easily slips in. He slowly slides every inch forward, 

“Nnnngh, ahhh ahhhhhh.”

Mikoto twists her fingers around her nipple, “How does it feel? My husband's thick cock is spreading your fat pregnant pussy open. Your slutty hole takes it so good, sweetheart.” 

Her overtaxed womb is in full display, a huge massive domb. Mikoto rub it soothingly as Hyuuga Hanako high pitched whine makes his cock twitch inside her. 

“How does it feel? Being so full of my cock and full my babies?” 

“I'll take every inch! I'm so HEAVY. I ACHE I'M SO FULL! SOO SO, BIG! AHHHHHH OH GODS ABOVE, FUGAKU!” 

Her pussy squeezed his cock tightly, every slack of his balls only sent her own hips into a thrusting frenzy. He grips one of her gigantic tits in his hands. It's nearly as big as her own belly.  They slap and bounce against her pregnant stomach 

“HAAAAAAAAHAHAA, AHHHH, OHHHHH, my titties are so full of milk. You did this to me! I can't get enough!” 

“We'll see about that.” Fugaku mutters. 

Mikoto didn't want any more children. Pregnancy hadn’t suited her well. 

Hyuuga Hanako is the opposite.

“Are you gonna cum, daddy! Please, give me more of your hot cum. Please, I can't get enough! I'll grow so big for you, again and again.”

Mikoto links her tongue into the woman's panting mouth. “You're a slutty little broodmother who wants to be breed again and again” 

“YES YES YES OHHH YES. I WANNA BE TOO BIG TOO WALK. KNOCK ME UP, OVER AND OVER!” 

He switches thrusting into Mikoto's pink and shining pussy arched towards him. Pounding in and out of her, he enjoys the pleasure moan Mikoto lets out.

“UOHHHH, OH YES, Fuck me, darling. Give me a taste of that fat cock! You're poking me so deep.” 

He thrusts his fingers into Hanako's sopping wet folds. Every squelch sends her hips pressing back. 

“I should knock you up for how mouthy you are, Miko. I know you wanna be filled up with my cum too.” 

Hyuuga Hiashi would never see his former wife wailing on the Uchiha clan head's cock. 

 “SO GOOD, OHHH OHH, YOU MAKE ME FEEL SO GOOD. I'm so pregnant, so full of babies and you made me this way.” 

“FUKU, fuck me harder. YES, YES, right there! Ughhhhhhhh, you make my pussy so wet darling. You're so good to me.” 

Fugaku slaps her ass, enjoying the pink his hands leaves behind on her ivory skin. He hastily pulls out and fucks Hanako again. Mikoto is his astounding wife; strong sexy 

She's not too fond of motherhood. Gripping Hyuuga Hanako's fat round ass, she thrusts wildly back against him, her pussy eating up his cock. 

He thinks if it were possible. She'd want to get even more pregnant than she is now. 

Fugaku doesn't mind it. 

He doesn't intend to keep her womb empty, not for a long while.

Her giant belly is shiny and red, painful and heavy and round and he plans to keep it that way. It hangs so beautifully against legs, forcing them to spread wide to accommodate her womb. 

“OHHHHH, YES! I'll keep having babies for you! I won't stop! I'll keep being breed by you, however many times.” 

Mikoto's eyes shine a bright red as she gives the Hyuuga a wet kiss. “That's what I like to hear.”